You Say That It's Hard Standing Still

"Excuse you," Keiran chided sleepily, his voice rough still from not using it for several hours. "That 'beautiful' better be directed at your daughter. I think you have a different word for my looks, besides," he added, a smirk lighting his face in memory of her comment and the low, bemused laugh that had followed it. "'Beautiful' is a bit of a let down after last night."

Pushing his teasing aside, Keiran rolled towards the three of them and reveled in the fact that he wasn't waking at five in the morning for a change, and wasn't quietly gathering his things as he tossed a look back at Millie before heading to his mum's. Instead, he was looking at Millie as she hovered over the twins, and they made all manner of babbling noises to whomever would listen. Kelly's head lolled towards him and Liam's followed, each seemingly becoming alerted to the fact that their father was still lying there and wasn't rushing off somewhere without them. Ironically, he was going to drop them off with the Ivanovs for the morning and steal their mother away as well. But Keiran had to suppose that it would be all right, because Millie had agreed. And they would convince Avery to give them Ariadne for the evening and it would be quite comfortable.

"Missie," he beckoned, a hand reaching towards her as he leaned across the twins to greet her, properly this time (and without the sass). Ignoring the wiggles of Kelly, the Hayes patriarch snuck his hand around to the back her torso, fingers darting beneath the hem of Millie's top. Not a breath later, Keiran's lips quirked up in a smile and caught Millie's in a curious mix of taking and giving, until Liam complained.

"Really, mate?" He grumbled at his son, pulling away and allowing his hand to retreat to his side. Turning to Millie once more, Keiran pouted briefly. "These two are determined to keep your attention away from me, love. Kelly, and now Liam, too."

Shaking his head, Keiran sighed and rested his cheek on his arm. His eyes closed as Kelly extended a tiny hand to poke at his face, but when she slowed, he leaned forward and chased her fingers away with kisses. A little bubble of a laugh escaped her and Keiran smiled in return, threatening another kiss as he leaned forward once more. A delighted squeal left her, shocking him with the high pitch of it, and he backed off warily, glancing up at Millie.

"Right. Let's get these two ready, yeah? Big day ahead."

A while later, the Hayeses had stopped in at the Ivanovs' place in Dublin, and finally popped in on their house, the day set and planned properly. It had taken surprisingly little effort on Keiran's part to convince the other two parents to take on the twins, and something told him they would not be opposed to a grand family, despite Avery's original fears of being a mother. How terrifyingly similar she was to Keiran some days.

Now, Keiran looked up at the house, vastly larger than his flat, and seemingly bigger than his mother's home. Even though he assumed Millie would be determined to rush in and see everything again, Keiran crossed his arms around her shoulders from behind, fingers curling over her sides. "This is ours," he mumbled into the top of her head, pressing a kiss to the crown of it through her hair. "Really really," Keiran added with a smile, again thinking back to the night before, only this time it was for her reply to his surprise. "Still like it?"

Despite herself, Millie couldn’t help but laugh at him. She leaned forward, her hand reaching for his cheek, stroking her fingers across his cheekbone as his lips took hers. She returned the affection eagerly and smirked against his mouth when she heard Liam beginning to fuss. She leaned back and peered down at the children whose own lips had curled up into dopey smiles as they looked between their parents. She reached down, tickling her fingers under Kelly’s chin, and smiled at Keiran, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he spoke to the babies. She brushed her hand across his arm fondly and then slowly but surely the two got to moving.

It was easy enough to get the twins washed and dressed. Millie’s policy against all things related to miniature clothes for children hadn’t gone on deaf ears and so anyone who had delighted in purchasing clothes for the twins did so without buying little pairs of jeans and jumpers and other ridiculous things. T-shirts had been fine but she was highly reluctant to put them in things they couldn’t relax in. Thus, once they were doused down, patted dry and given an inordinate amount of kisses from their parents they were plopped into two fresh, warm baby grows and packed off to Avery and Robin’s – something which somewhat unnerved Millie a touch. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them, it was that it was so infrequent that they weren’t with her it felt strange all of a sudden to not have her hands curled around the handle of the buggy or to be cooing at them whimsically about anything and everything as she shopped or was just outside for once. Then, to be with Keiran – it was doubly strange.

Then, suddenly, they were at the house again and it was as though nothing terrible or bad had ever happened. Millie pressed forward but before she could bolt off, Keiran’s arms came around her and she hung back into his grasp, turning her head into his, reaching a kiss to his jaw. Millie sighed contentedly, snaking her fingers around his, and she squeezed his hand. Wiggling out of his arms, she turned around and grinned brightly, bouncing across the grass. Twirling a little, she bobbed back around and looked at the house, taking in the veranda, the steps down to the grass, the large windows and the big front door. She knew out back they find the little outhouse that she’d make hers eventually. There was room for swing sets, everything and anything the children would ever want. It was perfect.

“Of course I love it!” She exclaimed brightly, tossing her arms around his neck, again. “This house is so wonderful. You have no idea. Well, you probably do but gosh…” she bounced off once more and plopped herself down in the grass by a lush patch of daisies. Her hands instantly went out, picking a palm full to begin to make the chains. Then, for a minute she was ten again in Hyde Park. Her father was buying ice creams and she and Elliot, out of breath, flopped down in the grass to rest. Everything was fine. And nothing bad had ever happened at all.

Something almost desperate seemed to flood the air as Millie flounced off towards the patches of flowers inhabiting the - their - yard. It was like she wasn't quite with him for a while there. But she looked happy and that was a huge accomplishment for him lately. So Keiran just strolled around the yard, taking it in as Millie toyed with the daisies she held.

After a few minutes, though, Keiran grew impatient and strayed back to her side, eyes following her movements with vague interest. When he simply couldn't manage staying quiet and still - and, of course, outside of their new house - any longer, he bent down and stole away the flower she had intended to use next. "I promise you, Mills, you'll have loads of time for this. Right now, though, how can you manage staying out here when our very future is rested in those walls?"

Standing properly, he turned his back to her and gazed up the delicate incline of yard to their front door. It felt almost daunting, this move they would take, but only because it ensured that they would have to get used to new things all over again. Hadn't that gone so very sour last time? Keiran wasn't entirely sure they would manage it properly, and he knew his pulse was incredibly quick due to his worrying after everything. But he had offered and promised and reassured and everything else he couldn't take back, even if he wanted to. And he wasn't at all sure that he would choose to take things back, even given a chance.

"Well," he started, stepping towards the house as he threw a look over his shoulder at his wife. "I'll be inside when you're set. Hopefully you'll find me before I grow bored and take to the study to do some reading. I'm sure there are many more interesting things we could find to do in... Other rooms."

A slight smirk broke out across his face as he directed his gaze towards the house once more, strides carrying him quickly across the lawn. Pushing the front door open, Keiran wondered briefly if he were meant to carry her across the threshold or something, but he supposed that having done so the last time they were there, he had fulfilled that unneccessary want. So he stepped in and ambled around with his hands in his pant pockets, taking in the feel of it once more and waiting for Millie to decide to join him.

The persuasion was good, Millie would have to give him that. Yet, at the same time she would have retorted that why on earth would he want to go inside when the sunshine was so content to blaze across the Irish skies whereas normally it ran off elsewhere at the expense of leaving them with torrential rain. She couldn’t imagine what the draw was of going inside when outside was so glorious, when the bed of grass was so soft and the light so warm and enveloping it could almost send her to a comfortable sleep amongst the daisies. However, she was sure that wasn’t entirely the point of the trip and whilst doing her sleeping beauty routine was something she had indulged in for months now, it was time to be wakeful and time to be with Keiran – because how often was that going to happen, even though they’d more or less resolved their problems?

Grabbing herself to her feet, Millie fixed her daisy chain around her neck and she slowly began to walk across to the steps, hopping up behind him onto the veranda. He’d already gone into the house by the time she got there and so she followed, unconsciously mirroring his body language by sliding her hands into the pockets of the soft shorts she’d elected to wear. The sound of her sandals clipping on the tiles and wood was pleasant enough and as Millie twirled around in the small foyer, taking in the beam work and the upper story that was swept up towards by a set of beautiful carved stairs she found herself conceding that yes, this was the kind of home she wanted to be in but of course she knew that far more of her time, especially when the twins started to walk, would be spent either outside or in the large living room that she knew awaited them.

“Hey, wait for me,” she called out, smiling a little as she hurried after her husband.

There was still something plainly absurd about the height difference between them. At best, Millie, with the aid of heels, bobbed up somewhere just above his shoulder and could, if she rose up onto her tip toes steady him with a glare straight between their two gazes. Yet, when she was barefoot or in sandals she was just beneath his shoulder – or, level with it if you wanted to listen to her point of view but it was flawed, of course. So, she scrabbled after him and finally found his side, tucking her arm around his with a cheeky grin. It was an endearing sight, the two of them stood together for she had the habit of leaning her head against his arm, he ever the strange sort of fleshy apparatus from which she had a tendency to suspend herself. They were sweet, to cut a long-ish story short.

“It’s still so beautiful,” she commented, lifting her eyes around. “Can we afford this?” She asked after a moment. They’d already bought it, of course, but it seemed to the girl of the narrow two – the third was once a study – bedroom house in the middle of London completely barking mad. It was absurd to her to think that their children would be amongst the fragrance of the flowers, lolloping about a bright, airy house that was completely and utterly theirs. It was so far removed from anything she’d imagined for herself – the best being a small open-plan, beach bungalow she’d fill with books and live in with Lucius. This was entirely, completely different and it really was the kind of life she wanted to lead. Or, rather, it was the kind of life she wanted for their children, at least. No cars, no thrumming sound of London beating against the windows, no bang and crash of parties, no shady dealers loitering on street corners – none of that, this was the idyll.

“I love you,” she said softly, turning her head and looking up at him. “So much. You are absolutely one in a million, Keiran. And I am so not deserving of you.”

Looking back on the night before, Keiran had to wonder for a moment why he wasn't angrier. Why he wasn't still furious with Millie. Why he was standing in this house when by all accounts he should have been at Robin's, explaining and apologizing and getting help from a source that used to make sense but was now sadly unlikely. The problem, he decided as he took everything in, had been that she had twisted his words, and never told him the extent of things. If Millie hadn't broken down or drank so damn much, Keiran knew he would have had into her or just up and left sooner than attempt reconciliation. But that was past and he shoved the traitorous thoughts away as Millie came up behind him.

A light snort left him, the only real evidence of his mental battle, before he covered his cynicism with, "Of course we can." Shrugging, Keiran let his hands escape his pockets and relax at his sides when her arms encircled his. He turned his head as they entered the kitchen before continuing. "Nothing has changed, money wise. Mum just gave me half of the inheritance early to cover my leaving the school. And with our family situation as it is, now - rather, now that we know about mum's side - it's even less worrisome."

She spoke again and Keiran felt her eyes on his profile, guilting him away from his darker musings from moments before. Would he have done the same in her position?

.... No, he decided finally, swiveling slightly where he stood to gaze down at her. He wouldn't have done it.

But he could sooth himself just slightly for knowing that Melissa felt bad about it, and he could hope she hadn't lied about the lack of intimacy between her and the man in question. If he ever found out otherwise, Keiran was quite sure it would break him, and be that last tap against cracked glass, sending his faith clattering to the floor in pieces of glimmer that should have reflected her own. But she had lost faith in him regardless, at least to some extent. For she had been unable to fathom how to tell her own husband she missed him.

It wasn't lost on Keiran how very painful being away from home was for him, and thus how much trouble his absence would have caused. But she had supported him - or pretended to - throughout her delving into other potentially more appealing pots outside of his. If she had been given a shot with that man - a right, total shot with him - what about Keiran could have made her decide not to go for it full tilt? His family and their money? Hardly. She wasn't that sort. His subconscious snapped at him, suggesting that he wasn't the only one who thought he knew the blonde at his side. It was obviously gnawing at him, the unknowns of her relationship with Alfie - regardless of the man's stupid name - and Keiran bit the inside of his cheek to find a proper reply before opening his mouth.

"I love you too, Mills. It still stings, knowing you were afraid to talk to me. But maybe this house was one of those things you wanted that I hadn't managed to figure out." Swallowing once, Keiran fought against his tightening throat, his frustration betraying him as his tone became more constricted and tense. "I just... Millie, I won't ever do anything like that to you. I promise."

It was a stab, and he knew it. He wasn't talking about the house or not talking, either. Quite unable to stop it from coming out, he added, "I can guarantee, though, that if it happens again, I won't be so understanding. I consider it a sign that I've failed you somehow, and knowing that I have makes it harder to think rationally. But I'm not as angry as I should be, because you really don't see how important you are to so many people. You don't. And while I'm not the same in that aspect, I liked to think I was that sort of person at least for you. Melissa, if you do that again I won't be staying. You can have the house and whatever else, but you won't have me."

(OOC: It's a miracle I managed to end this post. I could've gone on forever.)

Surely there had been enough time for her to be able to sense a change in mood, to perceive an oncoming storm. Surely not. Most assuredly not, for her smile was genuine, airy and affectionate but slowly but surely her lips turned down at the sides and she lost the ability to hold the curl of her mouth and the sparkle of her eyes and it slipped like a broken façade chip by chip from her mouth, her cheeks, her eyes, her brows – her face. It was gone and she stared at him with wide, doe eyes, hurt coming in to replace the brimming happiness. It lidded the pot, shut her down and she stole her hands away, taking a step back.

If he had struck her she could not have looked any more appalled. She averted her gaze, her cheeks emblazing themselves scarlet as she considered his words and the gall of him to darken the morning with his words and then, too, to alienate her from a room she’d remember and one she’d seek to avoid at all cost at least in the early days before she could reconcile it once more with happier memories. She swallowed and reached for her necklace, twisting the pendant between her thumb and forefinger. It had been picked up, that habit, at the expense of playing with her lighters which had been abandoned, left to gather dust.

At that thought, for the first time in months she could feel the absent taste of tobacco in her mouth and everything she associated it with. The Sugar, the Spice, the hash in little bags strewn across a trashed living room that was made a multitude of colours by swirling party lights. The harder things dotted along the stomachs of girls no one even knew or recognised but they lapped it up nonetheless. It had been her liberation. It had later been Elliot’s coping mechanism. She’d run away completely – to paradise to serve drinks to over-wealthy tourists and their wives. Once the tourists were drunk, the wives were hers for everyone liked the taste of a bartender. Now what? They were both painfully sober, the light of day somewhat offensive and reality? Intolerable.

Smoothing her lips together, Millie listened as Keiran went on. She found herself nodding, shrugging her shoulders intermittently, and feeling for all the world as though she was a child again on her last warning. Only, she wasn’t quite a child. No, she was in the intervening stages when she was old enough to be treated adult enough to get the third degree when she’d least expect it. She’d gotten used to it from her mother. Never had she thought it would manifest in Keiran who perhaps, yes, she did look at through rose-tinted glasses because he smoothed over the cracks in her – didn’t fix them, but he smoothed them over. Maybe that was why, then. When he was gone the soft cement broke up and she was her again, flawed as she was. It was inevitable, wasn’t it? That she’d carry on as she always had done. They were default, factory settings. Flawed as they were.

Millie looked up, picking out the last handful of words. She narrowed her eyes, her brows furrowing deep over the sunken arches of her gaze and she scoffed. She scoffed, rolling air across of her mouth, exhaling a sharp, quick breath of air through her nose. She scoffed at him. At the sincerity. At everything. She shook her head, once to the left, once to the right and then she lifted her gaze. She had always been a woman who believed she had to lie in the bed she made for herself. Hence she’d spent the majority of her time running, hiding, trying to nurse insecurity. In the event he was proposing, it would be no different.

“I wouldn’t want anything from you,” she told him simply as though she was talking about something simple without as much gravity as their conversation held.

The house would not be a place she could live in. She doubted she could even be able to look at their children thereafter. In fact, in pursuing a Gryffindor sensibility she’d probably leave them with him because strength of will was something the house of lion cherished and by that point in time she would have failed in that so thus, she’d have no right to them. Just as Lavender hadn’t when she made her bad choices. Collectively, Millie had made more than her life’s share of bad ones but they’d not affected anyone but her up until this point. If she couldn’t even look after her own interests, in what mind would it be considered a noble idea to leave their children with her? No mind.

It was a fallacy of the Ministry to think they could net down a woman who had made a life out of aiming below expectation. It was a delusion to think that it would be honey and rainbows and unicorns – she was as guilty of this as anyone else. It was also a misinterpretation of her character for them to assume that she would want to be boxed up and set to rights so early. She wasn’t born to wear an apron and run around after children. The fact that she had made it that far as a testament to love for them rather than anything else. She had a duty to them – one that she shouldn’t have had to have harboured at such an early age. Yet, there were her cards. She had to play them somehow. They were the only ones she had after all.

“We should figure out which room upstairs gets the best natural light,” Millie declared, steeling herself. “Then that could be the nursery, couldn’t it?”

Then with that she took herself off, departing from his side and electing to take two steps at a time, launching herself upstairs and momentarily out of his presence. She took a breath at the top of the stairs, throwing her arms around herself. She closed her else, squeezed painfully at her upper arms, and then dropped them all together, reopening her eyes and resuming an airy, half-disinterested expression. It was neutral, at least. It would help her console the betrayal she felt – completely unfounded though it was. He’d caught her off guard. Played dirty. Played Slytherin. Really, she shouldn’t have been so surprised.

The first door she found would do, she knew. The windows were tall and narrow but there were plenty of them on each wall. They were framed with soft, light curtains and as she reached for one she found the tiebacks, sliding them around the curtains, hooking them back to see what it looked like when it was set to rights. She lifted one of the windows, pushing it out. She knew that there would need to be a few wards placed there to prevent the curiosity of the twins sending them flailing onto the grass down below but that could be done without much worry and she knew she could get the opinion of Elijah should she feel a touch unsure about what she’d set up.

Millie took a seat on the windowsill and opened the window out fully. The tops of the tall, willows that framed the landscape, interspersed with a flash of scarlet from the whitebeams and snowy blossom from the bird cherries were ones she could see from that vantage point there. A cacophony of sound was rising up from the thicket and it served to fill her with a little bit of hope. Even with the poison between herself and Keiran, there was still a world going on outside. It served to provide a little bit of perspective even if it only went so far as to remind her what she’d failed to do. She supposed he’d been looking for her to say she wouldn’t. Really, she shouldn’t have done it at all. But then what was she if she wasn’t weak?

She loosened the daisy chain from around her throat and turned it over in her hands before rolling it all roughly together, breaking up the flowers and spreading petal and stamen across her palms. She then dropped it out of the window and clapped her hands together, pushing the debris from her skin. She rested her head back against the wall and continued to look out, her eyes dancing over the landscape. The creak of floorboards, indicative of a house unfurnished, alerted her to Keiran’s presence but she didn’t bother to look up. Instead she looked into the room and gestured to it.

“They’ll like this,” she said softly. “I expect it glitters like gold in the mornings and just before sunset.” She smudged her lips together again and pushed the window open a little further. She turned her legs out, brought her hands up to brace herself on the wall and dangled her legs over the sill, deciding that perhaps it would be best to put more than a cursory ward on the windows – even if magic would no doubt catch the two children.

Again she was plunged back into what she considered to be a distant memory. It was of one night, when she had holed herself up in her room, her desk up against her door the last defence against her mother. Stephen was in the garden outside, stood on the wall and garnering more than his fair share of odd looks from the neighbours as he continued to encourage the wrought iron gate to swing with an idle kick of his foot. She’d shoved the window open then and sat on the sill the way she did now in this moment. It had been concrete that floor, though the distance was the same and when she launched herself out, she was sure she’d end up breaking her neck but she sailed to the floor, magic ever a saviour, and the pair took off at a run. That was when she’d left. Moved out. Ran away, as it were.

This was slightly different though the rush would be the same. She wasn’t going to run, she was just going to sail. It was better than dissolving into what she knew best. A smidgen of headache – wine head, as her father would accuse her of having – lingered but who was to deny a hungry man a meal and an addict to misery one last gasp at being ridiculous, at being young. She’d wither and go grey at the edges prematurely she was sure. But youth was emblazoned in black ink on her back. It was in the metal in her ears, in the smooth plains of her face. It was in stupidity. It was in desperation. It was in the launch of her body through and open window.

Her excited scream rose up into the air and as she imagined she flailed her arms, shook at her legs and then just as she neared the ground, a shot of magic sent her back up into the air as though she had just planted her feet on a trampoline ready to spring back. Then, the base of her sandals found the long grass and she slipped in the lingering dew, landing roughly on her bum with a laugh. She flopped down onto the grass, throwing her legs up into the air uselessly and they bumped down onto the ground again like a belated one-two sound at the end of a music piece.

With the air shoved up out of her lungs she’d felt free. With the wind whistling through her hair, prising it out of the band she’d put it in she felt liberated. When she’d landed, knees bent, only to slip and fall she couldn’t help but breathlessly laugh for she could still do it. Perhaps she couldn’t exist quite in the same way – she didn’t feel she wanted to – but she could jump from a second story window and land to tell the tale. And she could still run away in a roundabout sort of way without going anywhere at all.

Even after he’d spoken, Keiran wasn’t sure if he had been fishing for anything specific, or if he had just wanted reassurance that she wouldn’t change her mind about him again. It seemed like a valid enough reason to be worried, when Keiran felt just so little and Millie seemed to be everything for so many people. As sadistic as it was, he couldn’t find it in him to imagine that the man had been using Millie right back, because that would’ve meant that he didn’t care about Keiran’s wife at all and in some broken way that offended him.

Regardless, her words did nothing to settle him. In fact, they merely made him more concerned. For someone so averse to her leaving, Keiran was going through the potential of her leaving without any support from him, and he just felt sick to his stomach at the thought. He hadn’t been trying to make any point about possessions or anything. Clearly that wasn’t something he pondered after in the night or worried over at his sort-of-job-but-not-really-a-job job during the day. But again, Millie had managed to pick and choose, to take out the parts that he threw in to cover his real motives, and twist those into larger problems than the real ones. He assumed it was so she could avoid the real issues at hand, but that just got them more and more angry in the end.

When she spoke again, taking off up the stairs, Keiran hesitated for a moment before shaking his head and wandering into the back rooms to look out at the yard. An image of three blondes danced before him, one much taller than the other two as they joked around and tossed toys around. Ironically, in this picture he created for himself, the father of that family was standing just where he was, uninvolved and innately less of a father than a man who his children grew to hate rather than love. For, in his heart of hearts Keiran knew that he was heading in that direction without breaks on the train, and soon enough it wouldn’t be just the kids but the mother, too, that couldn’t love him.

His entire torso lifted and fell as he drew in a large breath, releasing it shakily before drawing up to his full height and making his way upstairs.

He recalled, as he climbed, that their choice of vacation home had been one that Millie had finally settled on, but also one that Keiran couldn’t help but love. He did like the house, regardless of his apparent indifference to it once they walked through the doors. The colors were warmer than any flat could ever possess, he decided at random, grasping at anything that would lighten his mood into one Millie would find suitable enough. One that would keep her from leaving the room once he stepped inside.

Apparently, however, it didn’t work that way. Or maybe it was Millie who didn’t work that way. For she was already sitting on the window edge, essentially out of the room already, when he stepped foot inside and leaned against the doorjamb.  Following her movements, Keiran looked at the room for the first time, rather than at her. Letting out a quiet hum of agreement, he nodded even as he knew she wouldn’t see him.

The twins probably would like the room, she was right. Once they grew up, though, it would hardly be a problem, as the home had extra bits they could turn into bedrooms with no issues, and then each one could have their own spot. His mind did not jump to future additions to their family as any normal, rational half of a couple’s mind would. Frankly, he wouldn’t be overtly opposed to another, but he couldn’t see how they would manage to settle on anything, nonetheless an agreement that they wanted to try for another. Then again, they hadn’t intended it the first time around, had they? And now look where they were. Keiran brooding by the doorway and Millie –

“What the fuck?”

Millie’s scream pierced the air as he bolted across the room to peer out of the window and down to the grass below. Of all the stupid things. She was laughing, which either implied that she couldn’t believe what she had done, or that she had landed without issue. Either way, Keiran didn’t wait for her to catch his worried look, ducking back inside and shoving his hands into his hair in frustration. That woman was seriously going to kill him if he didn’t figure her out properly. She probably would manage it, even then.

Keiran wanted to storm out into the yard and just yell at her until he couldn’t stand it any more, but that sort of thing had never gone well for the pair of them. Had never ended well. Why would it start now, after what had happened and what he’d said? After what she had failed to say?

No, screw that. Keiran refused to give Millie another chance to shout right back, to try and prove him wrong when he could never be swayed about the differences between the pair of them and the differences between how others viewed the pair of them individually. Never. Because he was convinced, and once the Slytherin managed to tell himself as much, very little could cause him to reconsider. And so, in this, he was convinced of what he had told her time and again: She mattered more.

But what did she do about it? Toss herself out of a damn window.

His wife was inexplicably bonkers, he concluded, and no amount of telling her his opinion over again would help or suffice. No explaining would be allowed without retribution for it, so Keiran wasn’t quite sure he wanted to try again. Nothing he said, it seemed, would be taken at face value or be allowed to rest. The air would hardly recognize the words before Millie tore them apart and altered to fit whatever she wanted to yell at him about.

Maybe he should have just started a fight a long time ago so she would have said whatever was wrong back then. Then perhaps she wouldn’t have had the affair. Wouldn’t have cheated. Then his warning would not have been given and this house could already have furniture and little kids running amok at all hours. Yes, that would have been far more appealing than this broken semblance of a family they created in the real world. Thoughts about changing the past never helped, Keiran knew well, so he shook his head in an attempt to clear it, leaving the would-be nursery and making his way further down the upper hallway.

He was probably supposed to follow her, now that he thought about it. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do so when he could only see himself hurting her somehow once he got down there. So he found his way back into the study, which – thankfully, he decided, was the last room of the hallway and thus a safe distance from the rest of the house. It would mean peace and quiet when he needed it or wanted it, and yet could also mean kids doing some reading nearby while Keiran worked on whatever it was that he would find himself getting into down the road. Writing more textbooks, probably.

As the house was officially theirs, he had no qualms about moving the furniture around. So Keiran stood in the open doorway, back to the hall and the stairs, lifting up desks and shelves and re-arranging them to fit the picture in his mind of what must have been the most perfect place in the world. It wouldn’t be exactly right, this room, because it wasn’t the actual place in question. But it would be close enough that it could settle his nerves and give some much-needed relief for his exhausted mind and muscles.

He could call it lack of imagination, or just needing to be back in that study with his father, but either way, the room was set in only a minute or two, and Keiran found himself staring at the room. Desperate though he was to go in, his head tilted against the doorframe as his mind conjured up a film of the last time he had see his father in their library. Tired, refusing to eat except sporadically, spouting off everything he had to do and all the reasons he had to do it. If only the man hadn’t been so vague. Then Keiran might have pieced it together exactly right instead of guessing over what his father had been planning. About what had gotten the man killed.

A grumble that was more like a pained groan left him as he moved inside, heading for the two bookshelves that sat on either side of the window bench. The desk backed up to one of them as it had in his childhood home, and Keiran settled into the chair there, the real, empty bookshelf in front of him blurring and replacing itself with the shadow-covered titles of the books from home, his head falling into his palm as it had that night before Christmas Eve.

It was stupid, in that aspect, to have done up the study as he had. But the differences in the room – from the type of desk to the wood that made up the bookshelves – would no doubt rescue him from any delving into the past. His hand tracing the desk, for example, found none of the scratches that it should have, and it alerted him to the fact that he was not in the past at all, but rather in the present, which felt almost as dreadful as his memories.

The bed of grass was endlessly soft and the barest bit tickly. As she laid there, her hair splayed out around her head like a golden fan, she found herself waiting, wondering when the whistle of air would whip past her ears and when the thud of her husband landing beside her would step down from window to ground. But it didn’t come. She twitched a little, arching her back and tipping her eyes to see, to look, to hope that perhaps at the very least he’d stuck his head out of the window to laugh at her. But he wasn’t there. By all accounts, he was gone.

Sighing, Millie moved her gaze back to the sky, watching for a few moments as the clouds began to pepper by intermittently. Then, eventually, she sat up. She rubbed the back of her head, her hair fluffing up a little. She turned, squinted up at the window again and sighed once more. Nothing, just the light curtains blowing in the breeze. She groaned, rubbing her hand over her face and pinched at the bridge of her nose while her other hand reached up to rub at her eyes. This had decidedly not been the plan but evidently her husband had other ideas – and so had she.

Taking themselves out of themselves was always going to prove difficult because they would never quite find the middle road. Somehow though, they needed to find a compromise and Millie had a feeling that it would have to come with her because she didn’t have the moral high ground. No, in terms of righteousness she was exactly where she belonged – outside. He had the house, the esteemed ground. She had real ground, but no grounding in her argument, although granted she had no clue what her argument actually was.

So Millie got up. She brushed the grass off of her bum and plodded forth into the house through the patio doors. She looked about herself and listened for a few moments to the movement upstairs before leaping off, hopping back up the stairs and onto the landing. She trailed her hand idly across the bannister and followed the noise, finding the study where inevitably her husband would be. He was typical in his habits, just as she was. She couldn’t have expected to find him elsewhere, really.

“Bare bones of an office,” she murmured, leaning against the doorframe.

She looked around, recognising, too, that it was awfully familiar even though her time in the office it mirrored had been fleeting – there to ferry cups of tea from the kitchen to there or empty cups out, depending on what needed to be done. She smiled a little, the tiniest of bits, because for a moment she felt as though this wasn’t actually going to be a home enough for them. Perhaps once there was furniture and life about the place, maybe. But for each other? She didn’t want to be the only one populating the master bedroom only for him to call the office home.

“You’ll fill it though, won’t you?” She added. “With books and random bits of paper you’ll forget you wrote on and you’ll find later and can laugh about. Pictures, maybe?”

She didn’t step inside. She almost felt like a vampire from one of the old movies – she couldn’t go in until she was invited. There was a rueful part of her that thought he probably wouldn’t invite her in. It was spiteful, that bit. Perhaps she just wanted another opportunity to shout at him. That was a lie that bit. Millie looked about herself, bumping back against the doorframe, before glancing up at him.

“That’s my olive branch, Keiran,” she told him. “Take it.”

"For now, yeah," Keiran mumbled absently, barely registering the fact that Millie had come back inside and was no longer giggling to herself on the grass. At least she didn't look like she was going to jump out of the window at Keiran's shoulder. Not yet, anyways.

She continued, drawing Keiran's attention more properly as he turned his head to look at her. His arms were propped on the table, as if directing his shoulder at her as well could work as some sort of shield. It was useless, of course, because her words seemed to beg a reply that he didn't know how to give. "Just depends," he mused aloud. "I've not got many pictures, so I dunno about that one."

As careful as his reply was, the statement was honest and held no tone implying malice. It was just simple fact, and Keiran found it odd how much easier it was to push those words out than any that could hurt Millie. That also struck him as being a good thing, though, so he accepted it without complaint.

Take it?

"I will if you can somehow convince me it's safe to trust you with my faith."

"I will if you assure me my emotions aren't being handled by the wrong person."

"I will if you remind me why I'm so set on this. On you."

"I will."

He blinked once before adding, "I do," the agreement coming without qualifiers or requests.

Because he knew what would happen if he said any of those other things. A fight even more impressive than their past ones. One of them leaving. Both of them hating the house more than they could stand. Until, before long, neither remained in the house, nonetheless in the relationship. And Keiran was pretty set on keeping Melissa around. He was. That was why his fears didn't feel as ungrounded as they perhaps were. He loved her, therefore he was afraid.

If your heart can break, that means it still works.

While Keiran's hadn't exactly broken, it was bruised and his soul seemed near-black in the aftermath. What would be left of him if Millie, too, was taken away like the other factors had been which made him who he was? He didn't have the potential for promotions or the dream job, didn't have his most important, most valued friends.

Then again, Keiran wasn't sure what he was, even with her still there. The other large chunks of him had been stolen along with his father in one sudden burst of mayhem that night. He had lost himself the way one does when their house burns down with everyone and everything important stuck inside. His lot should have been less dramatic, but it somehow felt the same.

He gave in so easily when it came to Millie. He supposed it was based on the fact that while he was at 'work' he was wondering after her. And probably the whole thing where he just wanted to get up and just walk over, take both hands to push her hair out of her face, and promise that it would work itself out. But there was no guarantee, so he didn't want to lie to her. They would inevitably fight, but one thing Keiran refused to do to his wife was be dishonest. It didn't necessarily fit his MO, as his house said it should be, but then Keiran had never been totally suited to Slytherin. Maybe if he had been sorted somewhere else...

Keiran pushed his chair back suddenly, watching Millie where she remained in the doorway. He had attempted to take her advice after Aiden's death, and tried to stop his innate desire to compartmentalise and organize himself as each situation needed. But it was time for his to give up the fight against it and stuff himself away. Because that would mean he reverted to worrying about everyone instead of what his duty should be. At least, then, he could manage both parties equally instead of smothering the kids and leaving Millie and the twins out to dry.

Crossing the room in purposeful strides, he halted in front of her and let a sad expression crease his forehead. Words refused to come to mind, so Keiran just reached out, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her to his chest. His free arm followed, curling about her waist loosely, the worry that she might take back her offer pushing at him nonetheless.

It was hard to think that there had been a time when it had been easy. It was strange to think that at a point in time when they should have been most broken they had been at their strongest. The house was too big for the two of them. The flat was too small for the four of them. She mourned the loss of his rooms at Hogwarts and the way they wrapped around them. She missed the little bubble of excitement in knowing that if she kissed him there for long enough she could draw him away from his marking. They were a real married couple then, in those weeks. Or maybe they were just a real couple. When she felt a bit more like herself and thus stole him out of himself. They’d been happy, playful, charming and boisterously witty towards one another, teasing with every other word. Now? Now, she had no clue and there weren’t enough synonyms for ambivalence to go around.

She could be forgiven, perhaps, for not really believing him when he said he would take her olive branch. His amendment didn’t make her feel any better but it echoed their wedding all the same and whether that was an intended parody or not she didn’t know. Aside from that, she continued to stand. She continued to look and she continued to wonder to herself whether she had sealed the envelope on an inevitable post-repeal divorce. It was the last thing in the world she wanted it but the thought served to articulate that perhaps they weren’t meant to be together. Perhaps one moment of dizzying stupidity had laid bare the fact that they didn’t work, that children together meant nothing because they were broken people and two broken halves didn’t make a whole.

Millie nigh fell into his arms, abandoning herself into his grasp, her arms lacing around to grasp at the back of his shirt. She buried her face into his chest, clinging herself to him, hoping upon hope that perhaps if she’d get lucky she’d disappear into him, never to be found again. She managed to keep her tears to herself, consoling her with his smell, his arms wrapped around her and the fact that there she could imagine for a moment that things weren’t as bad as they were that at a time when they should have been at their pinnacle, happier than anyone else in the world. There she could think for a moment or two that they were just overcome with that happiness, excited to call the house they’d fallen in love with home. But it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t like that at all.

“I’m sorry,” she said into his chest, her voice coming out mumbled and stricken. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

It was as though they hadn’t even left the kitchen from the night before. They were still having this discussion though she was naïve for thinking that it would go away at her behest. No, indeed, she had known better but the third degree so suddenly and belatedly had scared her as much as it had shocked her, provoked ridiculousness in her. She hadn’t expected it when they had been so good that morning, cooperative and pleasant. Pitifully she thought about the tea she’d made, wondering if it hadn’t been very nice, wondering whether somehow her loose endearments had offended him somehow, weather he would have preferred the children to have been dressed in something else, whether she was dressed wrongly. She’d acted wrongly, sure enough. But was there anything else, she wondered?

The embrace came to its natural end and she felt her arms slip from around him, trailing absently around his middle in the hope she could stay near to him. Millie reached up hesitantly, sliding her fingers across his cheek, reaching down to cup his jaw. She swallowed, trying to find some words, any words, but instead she moved up onto her tiptoes, her other hand tightening her grip on his shirt to steady herself and she slowly took his lips with her own. Once their lips drifted away from each other she reached up, smoothing her thumb across his forehead, across the lines that had gathered there.

“I didn’t mean to do what I did, Keiran,” she whispered to him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t want to hurt you. I love you. I wouldn’t have … I didn’t mean to … I just, I didn’t mean to betray that. I thought… I don’t know what I thought but I know that whatever it was it wasn’t good enough. I can’t do this. I can’t have this cold war with you. I don’t want it. I want to go back to the time when you would have ducked out of that window after me and we could have gotten covered in grass stains and it wouldn’t have mattered because it was just us and I know I mucked that up but I want to make it up to you please… please don’t freeze me out. I didn’t want to do this to us.”

I wasn’t meant to ruin our family.