[mp] ships were never meant to have a harbor

May 2004

His fist curled, loud, persistent knocks on the door making the knocker rattle, the hinges squeaking as it opened, and all Circenn could say was: "Did you see this shit?"

He shouldered past Roxy without the usual hello or civility or warmth that he usually had when he showed up on his girlfriend's doorstep. He was all rage and fury and frustration as he clutched an issue of The Daily Prophet in his hands. He was still dressed in his training clothes, dark pants with a dark tank and a Magpies logo on the front. He hadn't even grabbed a jacket before he had apparated away from the pitch when practice had just wrapped up and his manager Bec had approached with an expression that he didn't like. He had railed against her, his angry quick and unbridled as he asked how the hell the reporter had gotten photos in the 'secure' practice facility. How could this have possibly happened? After a couple of months of them being so careful. A whole column on his dating life in the Prophet for anyone to peruse.

He had been here before and he had known just how disastrously it could end. That's why he was so insistent about keeping his relationship with Roxy private. He barely told anyone.

"What the fuck," he cursed again as he tossed the paper across her kitchen counter, it slid closer to her when all he wanted to do was rip it to shreds. But he knew if he did that he'd be charming it back together moments later to read it again, knowing it would fuel his anger but not able to resist. He didn't want to say it, he knew he shouldn't, but Circenn couldn't hold on to rationality when his blood was pumping like this.

"You didn't tell anyone did you?" he asked.

@Roxanna Rathbone

Roxanna hopped off the last two steps to reach the landing and the front door of her tiny house. “For fuck’s sake,” she muttered as she grabbed the sweater draped over the banister and threw it over her sports bra and basketball shorts. Roxanna flipped the locks on the door with her wand and pulled it open. “What?” The last person she expected to be beating down her door was Circenn, but as he pushed past her and straight down the narrow hall to the tiny kitchen, Roxanna realized she had no time to ask questions.

Following him to the kitchen, Roxy eyed the Daily Prophet he’d thrown at her and wondered if it was the one from her front porch or if he’d brought his own. She’d stepped over it this morning when she went to practice and hadn’t bothered to grab it when she returned. It didn’t matter, she supposed.
 â€œWhat the fuck, what?” She replied, matching his energy easily. As if the anger had been there, just waiting for a reason to escape her lips. Roxanna was always quick to the offense; it was her job. She reached for the paper and skimmed over the articles on the front page until she saw one that had her name.

Merlin’s beard, her publicist was going to kill her, but Roxanna didn’t give a sickle about that now. “Me? You serious right now?” Roxanna had been in total agreement with Circenn when they had decided not to tell anyone about their relationship. Partly because she wasn’t sure how long it’d last, but mostly because it would just confuse things. Incredibly this close to the finals. She didn’t want the drama, and neither one of them needed to be tied to a bunch of nonsense rumors. They had been careful, she supposed, but they could have been more cautious.

“You’re the one who told me your training facility was secure, so?” She spat back, setting the newspaper back on the counter and leaning against it. “No reporters allowed, you said,” Roxanna was always quick to throw things around, to place the blame anywhere else, and since he did it first, she felt even more justified. Circenn had told her they would be safe training together at the Magpie facility, and she had trusted him.

"Just read it," Circenn bit out, every word costing him a lot in the restraint department. Bec had managed to talk him off a ledge of going down to seek out the reporter who had written about him, but even Bec's rationale couldn't save him from the fury he felt building.

He lifted one shoulder at her, his fingertips beating out an angry rhythm on her countertop. "I didn't tell anyone," he told her. Not anyone that would blab to the bloody Prophet. He hated this, hated it, mostly because he knew what it did to relationships. He had been there one too many times. He didn't need the whole country prying or judging him on his personal life, he already to deal with enough of that on the pitch and while Roxy and the Griffins had been having a great year, it was not the same case for Circenn and the Magpies. This stung even more because of that.

"It was supposed to be," he told her, his hands curling into a fist as his knuckles tapped the counter, miming the punch he wanted to throw at the world, but restraining himself. "Bec is looking into it, but I don't understand how they even knew to snoop around. I'm going to have this reporter, this woman banned from the stadium if it's the last thing I do."

He paced in her kitchen, the words from the paper, circling around his mind. "It's fucking bullshit!" he cursed under his breath as he paced, more crass with his language than was usual for him, but his anger had no limits. 'And did you see what they said about you? Ridiculous!" he added, mad on her behalf as well.

Roxanna felt that heat rising in her chest, anger clouded out the other emotions, and she crunched the prophet into her fist. “Well, I guess it wasn’t as fucking private as you thought, then, huh?” If she were rational, the woman probably would have seen that Circenn was just as furious as she was. And that would have satiated some of her anger. But Roxanna was never rational in these situations. And instead, as she looked upon this man she’d trusted, she felt betrayed, and that made her feel even more upset.

“They will write anything to sell this shit,” She tossed the crumpled paper at the counter next to him, and it bounced off the wall before settling by the sink. In situations like these, Roxanna was never very much fun to be around. She hated the press part of playing professional quidditch, enough sometimes that she had considered quitting altogether. But in the end, her love for the game had always won out. It was hard to remember that right now.

“I am so sick of this bull,” Roxanna wound her curls behind her head tightly and slipped an elastic band around the messy bun. “Since when did we sign up to be this kind of entertainment?” Every press conference, every article pushed Roxy further away from the childhood dream she’d had of playing professionally.

"Don't pin this on me, Rox," Circenn threw right back at her, desperately trying to hold on the last strings of his temper even though he felt like he wanted to blow up into a million splinters and take the whole institution of the Daily Prophet with him. "You know I wouldn't have chanced you coming if I thought this would happen." That was the honest truth and yet it had still found a way to bite him in the ass. He fucking hated the insinuation from her that he would have risked it. After everything they had done lately to keep this from leaking. Fuck!

He watched the paper slide to the sink, glaring at it from underneath heavy brows, the words swimming up into his vision. He couldn't let it go. Circenn strode over to the paper and snapped it open again, the words reigniting the fury and fire inside him. "We didn't, that's the whole fucking point. I'm going to the Prophet to talk to her," he said, shoving the paper under his arm and snatching his wand off the table and barreling his way towards the front door.

If this is the kind of entertainment they wanted, Circenn was going to give it to them while also demanding they fucking own up to what they did.

Instinctually, Roxanna did know that Circenn would never forsake her like this. And while some part of her trusted him completely, it almost didn't matter right now. They were both furious and feeling betrayed, and the tension was so heavy Roxy wished she could smash it with her beater's bat.

She watched him grab the paper from the sink and half hoped he'd set it on fire, but she was far more prone to unhelpful violent outbursts. And yet, Roxanna felt a twinge in her neck as she spun to watch him stalk toward the front door. With Beater instincts, Roxanna rushed after him with a burst of energy. "No, wait," She called before placing herself between the door and Circenn. The doorknob pressed into her hip as she stared up at the mountain of the man before her.

"It'll just prove the story," Roxanna heard what she'd just told him, realized she sounded like her dodgy publicist, and immediately began cursing at herself. "Fuck, you know I hate subterfuge and nonsense, but if you go down there, it will just be another stupid fucking bit of gossip for them to use against you."