put me on a pedestal, i'll only disappoint you [fflur / may 02]

She at least had had the sense this time not to storm to Hogwarts.

More than a year had passed since their last proper fight. Right about time, Nerys thought dryly to herself as she sat stiffly in the Three Broomsticks, awaiting her sister. The last months of friendship—or so she had thought it was—had been too good to be true. The dark red lipstick that normally coated her lips perfectly was uneven this morning, a result of her pursed lips. The longer Nerys sat, the more her heart raced, the adrenaline already pumping through her blood in anticipation of the confrontation.

As much as Nerys had hoped to deal with this maturely, she knew in the back of her mind that the calm lines she had rehearsed overnight were unlikely to ever actually be said. The evening alone at home ought to have given her time to get over the shock, or somehow get used to the idea, but she just couldn’t. It seemed neither she nor her sister could learn. Were they simply not meant to be friends? It at least appeared that Fflur didn’t care. No matter how hard Nerys tried to maintain their relationship, her sister seemed, almost intentionally, to ruin it.

So, Nerys had made the decision to not immediately confront Fflur. It would be her last attempt to be the bigger person. This was the last time she was going to try. She hadn’t stormed into Fflur’s home or place of work — obviously, that approach hadn’t been successful in the past. She would give her sister the chance to explain herself—not that Nerys could think of a single explanation that would make Fflur’s choices excusable.

At last, the former quidditch star walked through the door. The sounds of the May Day celebration leaked in through the door before it swung shut behind her sister, a jarring contrast to the tension surrounding her own stiff posture. Nerys closed her eyes as Fflur saw her and waved casually, willing herself to remain calm. Fflur didn’t know, then. It was hard enough to have kept their weekly date; Nerys couldn’t bring herself to wave back in that same casual way. Even the task of watching her approach was unmanageable.

She heard Fflur slide into the seat opposite her and opened her eyes in time to see Fflur settling in. “Good morning.” The formality and tension in her voice were obvious as she greeted her sister. “So, how are things?”

So much for a day off. Fflur Blevins didn’t have to work that day, but she was no less busy. It was her own fault, of course, but she didn’t want to lay blame on herself. She hadn’t meant to spend the night at the castle — it was such a rare occurrence these days, anyway — but she had finally started making friends with other teachers at the school, a symptom of Robin being in New York. She’d had a late night, but she hadn’t been drinking, she reminded herself as if it was some sort of grand accomplishment now that she had broken her sobriety. So she had slept in, waking with a start as she remembered today was a Nerys day and she still needed to feed the dog and she couldn’t very well excuse herself early from their standing breakfast date to hurry off to Robin’s house. It’d be easier to be late. Fflur’d be quick enough though. By now, she was an expert and putting herself together enough to look presentable in a limited amount of time.

With the dog and her own appearance tended to, Fflur hurried the last hundred yards to the Three Bromsticks; a glance at the clock outside the post office told her she had two minutes to spare. She caught her reflection in the window of the pub and even in its dullness she could make out her dark roots, which had grown out enough she could be properly wearing two-tone hair. Hopefully Nerys wouldn’t notice — or wouldn’t care too much when she did.

She pushed open the door to the pub with a smile on her face. It was better to be spending the last bits of morning with her sister than having to participate in any May Day festivities. She didn’t want to be social, but she didn’t want to be alone, either. Fflur and Nerys — it sounded so strange to say their names together in the same breath, like they belonged together again — were friends now. There was no other word for it. It was trying at times, of course, but Fflur expected that all of her sister’s friends had some difficulty dealing with her. Friends or not, though, she wasn’t going to be telling the younger witch about her relapse — no, ‘relapse’ was too harsh of a word — her return to drinking. She’d have to ease her into that information, if ever.

Nerys was already there, of course, but Fflur hid her bemusement at being late despite being a whole minute early behind a soft smile and a wave. She slid into the seat opposite her sister and offered a “Mornin’,” in return, her smile fading a bit as she took in the expression looking back at her. “Alright, thanks,” she replied again, though she leaned in with a furrowed brow. “Are—“ she started again in Welsh, as if her next question would be any less serious in their other shared language— “Are Mum and Dad alright? You sound so…blech.“ She couldn’t think of a better word, nor a better reason why Nerys would sound like it. She tried not to take offense that if anything had happened and she was finding out through Nerys — that was a problem for a different time.

The sight of Fflur’s smile slipping was a sign that her frosty tone hadn’t gone unnoticed. The sensible part of Nerys wanted to handle this conversation maturely, but the other part -- that is, the one that had always been outvoted in a desire to be the better person, the better sister -- was begging to have its turn.

“Mum and dad’re fine,” Nerys replied. “Everyone’s fine.” She let the words hang in the air, fiddling with the card on the table that showed the breakfast specials. The Welsh witch stared at the menu, seeing but struggling to comprehend the words upon it. Nerys blinked forcefully and implored herself to focus, delaying her next words, wondering if Fflur would break the silence first. The specials included a firewhisky sour with egg white; maybe she would order it just to spite her sister. But, no, she had Niall that afternoon. She had to be responsible.

“Are you eating?” Nerys asked abruptly as she spotted the elderly barkeeper hobbling over to check on a few customers. She pushed the miniature menu card across the scarred, wooden table toward her sister, probably more forcefully than was strictly necessary. It was hard to keep the tension out of her body, though, and the top edge tore slightly as it made its way over the bumps in the table's surface. Catching his eye, Nerys nodded to encourage him over. “Decide quick, he’s coming."

Switching back to English, Nerys ordered herself a tea, not looking at her sister to find out whether she was ready. A surprisingly nice cup with a dark blue trim appeared on the table before her. She watched silently as the barkeeper made boiling water spout out of the tip of his wand. As he shuffled away, Nerys reached over and poured a few teaspoons of cream into her cup. Her long fingers around the cup, Nerys let the near-painful heat soak into her palms. Taking one, last, slow inhale through her nose, Nerys spoke again, never breaking eye contact with the swirling, steeping tea in front of her.

“Can you guess who I saw yesterday?”

Fflur visibly relaxed when Nerys said Mum and Dad were fine; she exhaled when she said everyone was fine, too. Still, that would have helped explain her mood, so Fflur was no closer to figuring out what-- must have been that time of the month. “Oookay.” She didn’t push her any farther, watching her look at the menu instead of back at her. Fflur had been to the pub enough to not need to look over her options, but she almost grabbed a menu just to have something to do, since it looked like conversation was off the table.

“What?” She was more caught off guard that they were still speaking Welsh--even if she had started it--than by Nerys’s question. She pulled the menu toward her without looking at it and without answering; she had been planning to eat, but being asked if that was her plan made her a little uneasy. Decide quick, she said, and Fflur rolled her eyes. So she was in a hurry, on top of being hormonal; it all made for a very fun lunch. She considered getting a big meal simply so Nerys felt obligated to stay while she ate, but-- she ordered only tea when that was all her sister ordered. Best not to overstay her welcome, not when they were still tentatively friends.

She watched Nerys fix her tea, avoiding Fflur’s eye. This was classic mad-at-Fflur behavior, but Fflur hadn’t done anything to deserve it. Nothing Nerys could know about, anyway. There was no way she knew about the drinking. Fflur had been careful; minus that first time, she hadn’t had any drinks in public. She decided to let Nerys come out with it, whatever it was.

“Are you asking me or the tea?” Nerys still wasn’t looking at her. Fflur rolled her eyes one more time, crossing her arms across her chest as she leaned back. “Who?” She wasn’t about to play guessing games with her. They were too old for that (and when was the last time they’d had fun together?).

At Fflur’s words, a cloud of resentment began to build out of the feelings of panic and sadness. Fflur was going to be annoyed with her, when she was working so hard to have a calm chat? Nerys looked up and caught Fflur’s eyes for a moment, before quickly looking away. At the table behind her sister, a portly man was hunched over his plate of beans, the candlelight flickering and reflecting off of his bald spot. He might not be able to understand what Nerys said next, but he might pick up on the tone if she wasn’t careful to keep her volume in check.

“Your boyfriend,” Nerys finally replied in her best attempt at ‘easygoing,’ keeping her eyes on their neighbour’s shining bald spot, trying to focus on the light. Keeping her voice even was a challenge, and the words came out more choked than she would have liked. Part of Nerys wanted to watch Fflur’s face fill with embarrassment and regret, to hear her apologize profusely and promise never to see him again and beg for Nerys’ forgiveness. The other part wanted to march out without even giving Fflur the chance to (try to) explain. Her battling instincts kept her rooted to the spot, even as her emotions continued to build, weighing on her chest with an uncomfortable pressure.

“God, Fflur,” she finally muttered, the words barely coming out evenly as she felt tears beginning to gather in her eyes. “It was so embarrassing, acting like I knew what he was going on about. Even--” she hesitated for a moment over her ex-boyfriend’s name, “Even Robin thought you’d have the decency to tell me.”

Her boyfriend. Fflur opened her mouth to say something, but closed it a second later as she reconsidered. She wanted to ask who told, but Nerys had already said Robin had, which she couldn’t exactly be mad about because she hadn’t mentioned she just.. wasn’t telling Nerys anything. (But it would have been nice if he had read her mind and kept his mouth shut.) The Blevinses were rebuilding their relationship and Nerys was recently divorced and there was a little part of her that was still convinced Nerys couldn’t accept Fflur being happy about anything; she had always been able to do better whenever Fflur showed some semblance of success.

“It’s—“ new, she wanted to say, but Nerys had always been able to tell when she was lying, which was infuriating in and of itself. It wasn’t new; it had been months. Fflur spent most nights at his house, was taking care of the bloody dog while he was in New York. But he had dated her sister, eons ago-- Fflur didn’t think it was weird (it had been over a decade ago and they had all been kids), she knew Nerys had different standards. Expectations. Fflur was doing well coming up with reasons for not telling Nerys before now (not that she wanted to tell her now, but needs must).

Nerys cut her off--not that she knew what she was going to say, what excuse she was going to come up with--with a God, Fflur. She looked at her, properly, her eyes narrowing. She knew that look, that Nerys-was-trying-not-to-cry look, gaze averted.

She was so embarrassed; Fflur would have scoffed if she didn’t think it would send Nerys straight to tears and without that, this was just a tense chat, nothing more, to the casual listener, considering they were still going on in Welsh. She thought she might apologize--for not telling her, not for dating Robin--because she had been caught out and she knew she shouldn’t have kept it from her for so long, and she didn’t want whatever progress they had made to evaporate just like that but--

But that. Even Robin. “Listen to yourself,” she said, her hands curling into fists under the table as she leaned forward across it. “Even Robin,” she repeated. “You’ve clearly got a high opinion of him.” She leaned back and scoffed, finally. “You don’t know him anymore.” Fflur thought he was every bit as cool as she did fifteen years ago, but that was beside the point; he--and Fflur, up until a few weeks ago--were busy improving themselves and shit. That should have been Nerys’s main concern, anyway.