a point where it breaks {ingrid}

It was Valentine's Day--the first one that Kendrick and Jocasta were spending together as man and wife, not just in a relationship or even as fiancés. They'd spent their first Christmas as a married pair just two months ago. It was almost nine months since they'd been married, a fact that was still surprising and still just as welcome a realization every time. Marrying Jo had felt like their own victory, after the war had been won, and their home in Craven--not just a flat in London--always felt warm with his wife around, despite the very neutral decorations. Kendrick himself had reserved one small room out of the way of the main areas in their house to break from the color scheme, because the 28-year-old needed a little color in his life, but he spent less time there than anyone might have guessed. Craven was green, and that was often enough, and there was also Jo.

That being said, the both of them still had work on Valentine's Day, and although they had planned their romantic evening it was currently 1 pm. Although Ken had his wife on his mind, concern for another woman was intruding--but none other than his oldest friend, Ingrid Trickett. The two often encountered each other around lunchtime, but Ingrid had been nowhere to be found today. They hadn't made an appointment, so he didn't expect her to with any certainty, but he'd heard comments from a few people who knew they were friends about the fact that she'd taken the day off. They probably assumed that she was taking all the time to spend with a special someone. Kendrick knew better.

The way things had been going, Ingrid should have been married long before he and Jo. She had been engaged just over four years ago; Ken hadn't even been 25 at the time, and he and Jo had really only recently started dating for real. Kendrick hadn't...liked her fiancé. Marcus Wentworth had been a Slytherin he'd heard plenty of bad about, especially regarding his attitudes, but Ingrid had liked him so much that Kendrick hadn't interfered beyond making an off comment once or twice back when they had all been in school together. Their relationship hadn't ever really been like that, and how could he tell his friend that he didn't approve of the man she was engaged to? But when the Battle of Hogwarts had broken out, a year and a half later, Ingrid had found out just what kind of a person he was. It had been Kendrick's urgent Patronus, informing her about the Battle, that had spurred the conversation they'd never really had before, and the breakup on that fateful night. Sometimes, Kendrick felt guilty about it. It had been the right thing to do, and he knew she had wanted to know, and he was glad that she'd finally found out how horrible Marcus had been instead of marrying the guy. But a little bit of him felt responsible.

And so Kendrick knew that Ingrid had secreted herself away to be alone, and knew that she would be torturing herself with memories today, almost two years though it might have been. She had thrown herself into work after the battle, crashing with her brother Hal, and he hadn't been able to help much. As happy as he was, spending time with him was hard for her, and although things had gotten a little better, at this time of year they were worse. Ken's conscience nagged at him as he ate a sandwich in his office and shot off quips to a few of his passing coworkers, who were used to Ken's cheerful and joking attitude. Did she want to be alone? Almost certainly. Did he think she should be alone? No.

Kendrick checked his watch, which was more than ten years old now and, thanks to magic, still functioning. The man sighed. He still had another hour off until the afternoon shift, and he wasn't going to sit still and just think about it. Kendrick was a man of action, whether for better or worse. Ken exited the Ministry and turned on the spot, feeling his insides squeezing unpleasantly. He appeared at Ingrid's door a moment later. The former Gryffindor mustered his courage and knocked loudly on the door. "Ingrid?" he called for good measure, his voice carrying. "It's Kendrick."

Ingrid’s apartment was warm, which was more than she could say about the outdoors. Had it been any other day, she’d have already been at work, her robes covering the outfit she’d painstakingly picked out specifically for when she was off. She’d have her hair done up, her appearance on point so that she would look as composed and collected as possible. But it wasn’t any other day; it was Valentine’s Day. Of course she knew it would come eventually, but part of her had ignored that simple fact. Ignored it and buried it under mountains of work she had to get finished before her next trip out of the country.

Instead of doing that, though, she’d sent in an owl. I’m feeling under the weather and would not like to risk this developing into a full-blown sickness. As such, I will be taking the day off and returning when I feel better, most likely tomorrow. That’s what the note to her intern had said. Of course, she didn’t expect Michael to actually be able to get that information to everyone who needed it, but it was better than the alternative. Because as much as she loved working there, Marcus was there. Marcus was there and he worked in the same department as her cousin and why couldn’t she have anything nice for five seconds?

As she moved about the apartment, Ingrid noticed all the things that seemed off about the place; how her stuff was all where she left it, or how there were no jackets and ties in the closet anymore. A soft sigh passed her lips as she sat on the couch, hot chocolate in hand. The drink didn’t really help on its own, but there was no one around to judge her for adding some Bailey’s to the drink. The added alcohol did help, and she sipped it as she stared off into space and thought.

Ingrid’s eyes hadn’t moved from the spot on the floor where Marcus had been restrained before the battle at Hogwarts from the moment she sat down. Her mind replayed the events, the look on his face as he had sneered about mudbloods. A shudder ran down her as she thought the word; her grandmother had been a muggleborn witch. The idea that someone could hate an entire group for no reason other than their magical status was chilling, but the idea that someone could hide that for most of their life… That was what got Ingrid. She’d had no idea until he’d said something, and she’d been ready to marry the man. A loud knock at the door drew her out of her thoughts, and Ingrid frowned as she heard her friend’s voice come from the other side of the door. “Mmm, well… Shouldn’t you be at work Kendrick?” She called back to him, not bothering to move from her spot on the couch. While she didn’t know exactly why he was here, she did have an inkling and she didn’t want to deal with it.

Kendrick stared at the door while he waited for a response. It was white. For some reason, he thought that made it look like the paint would scratch easily if he knocked too hard, despite its current pristine condition, and he had no idea why he was noticing a door of all things, because he definitely wasn't the guy to know or care anything about the aesthetics of a house. Their house was all his wife's doing, which was probably to everyone's benefit. The man supposed he was somewhat nervous about this, because he knew Ingrid was definitely unsettled right now, at best. Volatile, even. But then, he was born and bred a Gryffindor, and he shoved all of that down. Sometimes you just had to go for it.

It wasn't too long, thankfully, before Ingrid's voice came back towards him, with, to his chagrin, no accompanying noise of movement. "I have a break," he responded, still loudly so she could hear through the door, and not caring if any passing people noticed the weird situation. He supposed it looked a little sketchy, a tall, decently built guy trying to get into someone's apartment, but at least he wasn't in robes or anything. He changed out of those whenever he had a break, because they really just got in the way. "You know we work in shifts, and my next one isn't till 2:30." After another moment of no response from his friend, he ventured a tentative "I know you're not sick, like your intern is reporting. Are you going to let me in?"

Still silence. He supposed she didn't want to encourage him or anything, but at this point it probably wasn't going to stop him. Kendrick looked at her doorknob, which was round and had a little lock on it. An Alohomora would do the trick, provided that Ingrid hadn't set up some wards that would tie him up or something if he tried to go inside. At this point, he could just back down and leave her. But for some reason, her reluctance to respond only made the man more certain that he ought to do something. Kendrick, by some miracle or more probably oversight of the powers of the universe, had somehow missed any directive to just let things be. He slid his oak wand out surreptitiously and performed the charm nonverbally before whisking it away again. Then he put his hand on the doorknob and turned it, letting himself in.

He wasn't immediately set upon by a jinx, which he was grateful for. Putting his head around the door, he saw Ingrid looking perhaps the most disheveled he'd ever seen her. Kendrick did feel the awkwardness of the situation, but it was overcome by his need to do something. "Ingrid? I, uh...sorry about breaking in, but...you shouldn't spend all of today alone, not after everything." Kendrick was just going to have to take whatever she dished out at him for this. She tended to do a lot of that anyway, and it was going to be worse. He should probably have come with something to give her to make this less of a problem...oh wait. "I brought you chocolate?" Actually he had gotten it at work, but at least it was charmed not to melt in his pocket.

The fact that Kendrick remained after everything was both comforting and annoying; had he been anyone else, Ingrid would have already opened the door to give him a good hexing. But it wasn’t anyone else… It was Kendrick, and that meant she was going to end up seeing him whether she liked it or not. IT was just how the man was. “So spend your break doing something productive.” She took a long sip of her hot chocolate, enjoying the warmth that came from it. It was better than spending the entire day moping about the office where she’d have to see just how much things have changed. Frankly, she just didn’t want to see Marcus’ smug face any more than she had to, but that was a moot point anyway. “I am very sick, dealing with a severe case of bronchitis.” It was a blatant lie, one that Kendrick would most likely call right away.

There was a moment of pause where she thought that perhaps he’d actually left. It would have been a miracle, and perhaps Ingrid was a fool for indulging in that particular thought, but it was an entertaining notion. Except the man was far too stubborn, and she wasn’t nearly that naïve. It wasn’t long before she heard the lock click out of place. A sigh escaped her and she casually picked her wand up from the table, keeping it tucked against her arm. There was no need for it yet but she wasn’t in a particularly good mood and Kendrick was technically trespassing at this point.

Her face was stoic, mouth set in a line as she stared at her friend. Ingrid was certain that he was taken aback by her appearance, but that didn’t matter. “Yes, I do believe that this is illegal. I’d have thought you of all people would know that, Kendrick.” The full name treatment wasn’t the worst thing in the world, sure, but it was enough to show her displeasure at the incident. “I’ll spend my day however I wish to spend it. I’m an adult; I’m fairly certain I’m allowed to make my own schedule.” She shifted slightly, taking a sip of her drink. A single eyebrow arched as he offered her some chocolate. Part of her wondered if it was meant for someone else, perhaps Jo for after work or something. It didn’t matter. “If you actually brought it, leave it on the table and promptly exit my abode. Otherwise, just do the latter.” A moment of silence between them sat for what felt like an eternity, but she soon spoke up again. “Just leave. Please.”

Productive? The skepticism and confusion probably showed on his face; it was a good thing she couldn't see him. The point of breaks was that they weren't supposed to be productive. Otherwise it wouldn't be a break. Kendrick knew that his wife didn't quite share his philosophy on breaks, and for that matter he wasn't sure his sister did either, but despite the fact that all the women in his life seemed inclined to push themselves past the point of exhaustion, Kendrick was a man who valued simple things, like a roast beef sandwich under the (nonexistent, currently, due to the time of year) sun at noon, in between shifts of running around the country fixing people who split their bodies between fifty miles and turned their wooden floors into sticky pitch that they promptly got stuck in. "This is productive," he replied, his voice carrying. "And bull. Your lungs sound remarkably clear for someone with a lung disease. I've heard so much coughing in the last two minutes." It was maybe a little aggressive, but Kendrick didn't want Ingrid to lie to him. He was quite sure she had lied to literally everyone else today.

Kendrick sighed, looking at the door. It would have been nice if Marcus had quit his job, or something. Kendrick saw him around once in a while in the Broom Regulation office--something that sounded horribly boring and not terribly useful at that. Rather like the man himself. In any case, if there had been no danger in seeing him, Ingrid just might have decided to go into work today, as driven as she was. Instead, she was here. And currently giving him a look that, had he been anyone else (or had she been anyone else) might have had him inching away slowly. He was tempted. But he also wanted to do the right thing, and at least in his mind, this was it...illegal or not.

"Jo's the one in Law Enforcement, not me," he said cheerfully, a sentiment which he didn't feel but which rather fit the statement. "I just fix things when they go wrong." There was no underlying meaning in that, although someone might read one into it. Unfortunately, there was no way to fix some wrongs, no matter how much Kendrick wished he could. This was one of them--there was no way to really fix people that were broken. You could fix their outsides, but you couldn't fix their insides. That was a lot of the conclusion he'd come to, spending time at St. Mungo's during the war. And of course, dealing with Death Eaters, who were broken in very different ways. This was a different type of breakage again, but the same rule applied. Oddly philosophical thought for him.

Kendrick wanted to cheekily reply that if she made her schedule, other adults could disrupt it, but he had probably already reached the limit of cheek that she was going to tolerate from him in this mood. Possibly the limit of his presence, too. He fished it out of his pocket--it was actually quite good quality, and ought to taste good. As everyone in the wizarding world knew, chocolate was a remedy. Kendrick moved forward to the table and set it down before looking at his friend again. She looked...well, she looked a lot of things that he expected her to look, but she also just looked tired. Maybe it was just his perception. But work couldn't compensate for people, and Ingrid hadn't been doing much to heal that part of herself. Two years was a long time, really, especially as they were still young. Not yet thirty. And yet, in those two years, he felt like she had done nothing but withdraw.

Kendrick almost left. He really did. But something made him want to stay. "Don't you want to talk about it?" bubbled up in his lungs and crossed his lips, and there wasn't much going back after that. They never talked about it, so why would he think that she would be more eager to do so today, when it was fresher, and worse? But there, the damage was done.