Charming is a Victorian Era Harry Potter roleplay set primarily in the village of Hogsmeade, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the non-canon village of Irvingly. Characters of all classes, both magical and muggle — and even non-human! — are welcome.
With a member driven story line, monthly games and events, and a friendly and drama-free community focused on quality over quantity, the only thing you can be sure of is fun!
"Are you always this forward?" He asked teasingly since it would be a very short thread if he just ignored her entirely. — Tobin Cartwright in Take A Peek
Did you know? Churchgoers and worshippers had to endure a foul stench during prayers due to the amount of bodies often stored within the vaults of churches and chapels.
Thaddeus had proposed only two days ago, and Idelle was already having doubts. She didn't love him, Dell was uncertain if she could ever love her American fiancà like she loved the pompous arse who rules her mind for the better part of six years. Throughout her entire education, she thought that she'd one day marry Ned. He was her knight in shining armor, her best friend, her confidant, and now Idelle would be marrying someone else. However, none of this was her fault; Benedict left her the Ning of the dance. Benedict chose to be with someone else. Idelle couldn't be blamed for any of this.
So why did she feel so bloody guilty?
Leaning against on of the few oak trees in the garden, Idelle fought hard to fight off the physical and emotional chill that was slowly swarming around her. The newspaper had already published a lengthy engagement announcement written by her own mother, the news of her engagement was already spreading around Dellie's social circle like a rapid fire. Personally, Dell wished she had more time to process the development. For, even though she hadn't been single for the better part of six months, it still hadn't dawned on he that Benedict wasn't coming back. He'd truly walked away from her and not come back. For hours she'd stood where he left her on the side of the dance floor waiting, and Ned hadn't come back.
What could she have done, though? Benedict had stood in front of Idelle with his eyes on some other debutant, and had asked to go. Five years of friendship and two years of hopeful love were destroyed in the matter of hours. Try as she might, Dellie couldn't wrap her head around the massive betrayal.
Snow fell softly around her, and Idelle knew she ought to go inside shortly. She had to be on top of everything, there were so many things to do now. So many people to see, so many events to plan, so many letters to write. Dell could no longer afford to get the sniffles. Twirling her engagement ring, which still felt entirely foreign on her finger, in slow circles, she made to turn and walk back inside. However, a figure approaching made her pause in her tracks. "Mr. Bates?" Idelle's voice rang out to him, disbelief laced in both words.
February the fifteenth; the day after Valentine's day. He had everything planned out. Though his training had become a major factor in his life, Benedict had not forgotten about her. He still thought about her every day; still longed for her to be Mrs Bates but it wasn't going to happen. He didn't think it was but he had a plan.
He would make everything right; everything better. Forget the past. That night, at the ball, when they danced. Before he made the wrong choice; before they stopped talking. There was a song; it stuck in his head. It played when the two danced. It made him hate himself now but then? Then it made them forget; it made everything right. Everything was better. Now would be no different.
But the fourteenth came and he didn't see her. He had a last-minute assignment to do and it was one of the last he was going to do. So na´ve to the future and so hopeful for it, too. So he was to set everything right and do it on this day. It was a nice day, too; it was snowy. It was clear; not too cold and not too warm. Perfect. Today was going to be perfect.
He got out of bed, anxious for the day. He would find her, prove to her parents that was making a name for himself and, eventually, she would be his forever. Every piece of the puzzle was coming together to create the most magnificent of pictures; a marvel to behold. But one part got lost. Her heart; where was it?
On the table lay a paper. The Daily Prophet. On the front, her name; engaged to him. The thief. He stole it. His parents were sorry but he was fine with that. Benedict wasn't fine, however, with her actions. How could she be so heartless? His sorrow quickly turned to anger and his anger quickly turned to her. And he apparated away.
He stood there now, dressed in a smart outfit, in the snow, watching. This was her place; her safety. His safety was knowing that some-when, sometime in the future, she'd be Mrs Idelle Bates. But no; not anymore. His safety had gone. Snow gathered atop his hair and suit; the beautiful white droplets so full of laughter and happiness, perched on his black jacket.
He spoke not a word but watched with angered eyes that were so alone and wishful. But his wish would no longer come true and he hated her for that; the breaker of dreams, the destroyer of hopes and the maker of pain. It was so painful watching her, knowing she was his and not Benedicts'.
He held the paper tightly in his hands and looked at the back of her head perched against one of the trees. He didn't care about the cold. He didn't care if she wanted this; all he cared about was if she was happy. With him; forever.
She hadn't noticed him and he didn't want a fight. Not another one. The first was horrible enough. Thisà This was much worse. There was no coming back from this. He took a step forward, still contemplating whether or not he should apparate away right now. She wouldn't have even known he was there.
But she turned around and saw him. His eyes looked to her ring and back to her eyes. Those beautiful eyes. He missed those; looking into them. They made his worries go away.
"Mr. Bates?" She asked. She didn't believe he was there. He didn't either.
He dropped the paper and it landed headline up. His gaze didn't avert from her. He didn't want to read it a second time.
There was a pause that, in reality, lasted only a brief second or two but to Benedict? It lasted a long time. A minute, perhaps? He could feel his anger building up. He loved her so dearly so how could she even think of marrying another? Words didn't û couldn't û express what he was feeling. His emotions were so conflicting. Soà different. It was hard to fathom. He opened his mouth, not knowing the words he spoke.
In those seconds before Benedict spoke. Idelle's heart pounded wildly in her chest. What was he doing here--why was he here? Ned had absolutely no fight to demand anything of her after the way everything had gone down. Benedict had absolutely no right to even linger on her parents' property. He lost the right to think of her as his own when he willingly chose to walk away with some bimbo.
Her gaze drifted from his face (which she was still hideously in love with) down to the newspaper on the ground. The picture of Idelle and Thaddeus glared up at her, as well as the headline 'Yaxley and Echelon-Arnost to wed'. The headline was so unoriginal, that she almost had to have a laugh at her mother's expense. There were so many other clever ways to announce an engagement, and yet Jena had gone with the tackiest way. Of course. Idelle thought bitterly, it is my mother after all.
Hardly moving except to shift her feet every couple of seconds, Idelle's eyes ventured back up to his own. How dare he call her selfish? Idelle had always known that Ned thought himself better than the rest of the world (she always thought he was better suited to the Lestrange family than the Bates) but his ire had never been directed towards her; even the single time they sincerely fought. Never once had Benedict glared at Idelle the way he was now.
Everything was changed, and there was not a single thing the blind teen could do to change a damn thing back.
Her gaze turned into a glare to match his own, yet another thing Idelle had never imagined herself doing, and she crossed her arms righty over her chest with her ring hand on the outside (and her ring sparkling brightly despite the lack of sun) "How dare you?" Dell spat back, no longer paying any attention to the falling snowflakes on her shoulders and hair. "I'm selfish? You don't get to call me that." Anger was in her every word, her every subtle movement, her unchanging glare. Ned had ruined everything; Idelle would never have even met Thaddeus had she not been abandoned on the night of her coming out ball.
"How dare you!" She reiterated, "who do you think you are--you pompous arse! You show up at my parents' home--uninvited nevermind you--after months of no word? You don't get to call me selfish. You don't get to call me anything, not anymore." She wouldn't cry, she wouldn't cry, she wouldn't cry. There was no way in Merlin's pants Idelle was going to allow Benedict bloody Bates to make her cry again.
He could see her beautiful eyes and gorgeous hair. Everything she was was exactly how he remembered it to be. She was still a glistening angel descended from the heavens with a halo as bright as the sun and wings as large as the galaxy itself. And she was his angel; his escape. Everything he wanted was with her. He could not see a future if she wasn't a part of it. But now that was gone and what was left of him but the shell of a man torn by emotion. He let an impulse control him that night and not one second did he live where he didn't regret it. Every waking moment, every living second and breathing minute was time he wished he never had to witness; if he hadn't opened his eyes from the embrace of their dance, he wouldn't have seen Victoria. If he hadn't had been a silly little boy, he wouldn't have lost Idelle. He wouldn't have lost the final piece to his puzzle.
And his puzzle was so close to being complete; so near completion. Just that one piece remained. One small, miniscule piece that would forever complete his life. It was such a small item to make such a huge difference and the difference was big; it was life-changing. And he'd lost it. That piece; her heart. Her heart was someone else's now. His eyes were glazed over with the wet of his tears and his face was red with the ever saturating stench of anger. He was confused; he didn't know what to think. What to do. He just looked. And spoke those words. He wished he hadn't. He didn't mean it. He was selfish, not her. He made all the mistakes, not her. But she decided to wed someone. Someone who surely didn't deserve her; not like Benedict did. She was his and nobody else's. How selfish she was. But she wasn't. He didn't know; he couldn't comprehend what he knew. What he felt: - his emotions. There were so many.
So he just looked at her ever caring eyes and watched as they turned as cold as the snow that landed on her soft hair. Her hair that always smelt nice. Never, not even when she forgot about him in school, did she see those piercing eyes that penetrated his heart and split it in two. He didn't like it. Not one bit.
And it hurt him. So much. Like a dagger to his heart. He felt like he could drop dead at any second. Those hateful eyes made him realize two things. Just two; he loved her. More than anything. And he had ruined all hope of ever having a wife named Idelle Bates. It was the sudden realisation that made a broken breath escape his lips, his eyes ready to weep. But he would not cry; not now. No. He couldn't.
"How dare you?", "I'm selfish? You don't get to call me that."
She didn't stop. She even insulted him. He deserved everything he got butà but a part of him û a small part û knew she had no right to be saying these things.
"You know I've been training to become an auror." He sighed, "I came to that ball to see you. You should û" He looked at her ring before swallowing, "You truly are an idiot, Delilah." His feet shuffled uncomfortably in the snow, "Why?" He shook his head, looking at the hate in her eyes. "Youà " He raised his right hand and pointed at her before clenching his fist and breathing in, his lips curled downward and shaking his head once more. His eyes saw pain and nothing else, "... stupid girl." He let out another shaky breath, looking to the sky. He bit his nail, his left hand in his pocket. That seemed like the only comfortable thing they could do. The only comfort of this day.
If Idelle was allowing herself to feel anything for the man in front if her, she would've been able to see his agonizing pain, she would've been able to see his regret, and she would've been able to see his love lingering behind his eyes. But she wasn't. Idelle Echelon-Arnost wasn't allowing herself to feel anything but hatred for Benedict because all other emotions hurt too much. Ever since May all she'd wanted was to talk to him, never once did an owl arrive. Eight months of waiting, eight months of wondering, eight months of constant disappointment, and now Benedict was eight months too late.
Her love for Ned eight months ago had been absolute. If he would asked her to elope, she would've. He was her world then, her light, her other half, and she could no longer afford to allow herself to feel anything other than complete disdain for the bastard.
Idelle wasn't seeing him anymore. Her stare never wavered, but she was trapped in the memories of the ball. She hadn't been expecting him to come. Their fight from months ago had left things awkward, and now they were barely corresponding. When he'd walked in and moved directly towards her, Idelle could hardly contain her excitement. Ned had immediately spun her out to the dance floor,clanging and joking as they went through the steps. Had Dellie known that was the last good moment they were to have, she would've forced herself to remember his smile and laugh, and how ridiculous he looked in his overly dressy suit. "I have to make an impression on your parents." Ned had said with a chuckle when she'd commented. Funnily enough, Idelle could no longer remember what she'd said in response.
It amazed Idelle to find that Benedict looked as though he might cry. What did he have to cry about? Ned had his new love, surely that was enough for him? Surely he'd spare Idelle of having to shatter her own heart in order to do what was right? But no, Ned was selfish and cruel, and he only wished to get every possible dig he could.
"And what did you do at that ball, Mr. Bates?" Idelle asked harshly, purposely ignoring his use of his very own pet name for her. She could remember all too well what had happened that night. They were dancing, Ned's eyes were closed in a joyous moment and Idelle was laughing heartily at their fun. The next steps required them to do a twinge of a twirl, and as they did it Benedict's eyes opened. That was the exact moment he saw his bimbo. Dellie knew in the matter of minutes something had changed, especially when Benedict had looked at her with such pleading eyes and asked to dance with the bimbo. "I'll be right back," he'd promised her, "stay right here." And so Idelle stayed and watched as her heart crumbled into a thousand little pieces.
Stepping closer to him so that she was only a little further than an arm's reach away, Idelle's fingers twitched with the urge to slap him. "I'm stupid for moving on with my life." She replied with cold amusement, "I'm stupid for not waiting for some loser who abandons girls at their very own debutant balls. Mr. Yaxley may not be a lot of things, but at least I can say that he is a better person than you."
He could see her cold, bitter stare as the pure white snow fell atop their clothing, covering them in the innocence of life. But no; there was no innocence. He could see that now. Her eyes told a story and they laid out the memories they had shared. All those years they had shared.
The first time he saw her in her robes that didn't quite fit right. The first time they laid eyes on each other after the sorting hat decided she would be in Ravenclaw, "Hello." He had said and her ever-so-cute smile returned the greeting.
But there was no greeting now, in the garden, in the snow.
His third year when they started talking more and more, "Stop it!" She had pleaded when he kept charming her quill to make her misspell words.
No messing around anymore.
His fourth year, She was so sure of herself that she would be a wife and a mother; "The head auror." He stated as fact with so many hopes and dreams.
She was getting what she wanted.
When she became prefect in his sixth; "I knew you would, Delilah." He smiled with adoration.
Her name he would never forget. Her perfect face that he wanted to kiss so very badly.
Seventh, the year everything crashed and burned. Then, from the ashes, grew a beautiful rose, "I love youà " His heart skipped a beat, "à it's not appropriateà " he swallowed, "à you don't feel the sameà " and he looked to the floor,
"I do." He looked back at her beautiful blue eyes.
He still did.
His feelings wouldn't change and neither did her eyes. They were still as beautiful as the calm ocean. She would never cease to be an angel. Not to Benedict.
But things did change. Not this, though. No. He wouldn't accept it. He couldn't accept it. His jaw tensed as the memories flooded to the front of his mind and he stared her without any words to speak anymore.
It was so perfect at the ball. But he was a greedy man. A teenage boy; a child. He wasn't thinking. And that cost him dearly. He could still hear her giggling and their laughter. And he could see her bright smile so vividly. It both calmed and scared him.
"And what did you do at that ball, Mr. Bates?"
A sigh escaped his lips. He lost her at that ball.
What hurt more was that she refused to use his name; his first name.
His lips quivered but he wasn't going to cry. She stepped toward him and his heartbeat hastened. He didn't turn from her. He couldn't. He didn't want to. Those eyes were mesmerising.
But he could see. He could see the hate; the anger; the bitterness. Everything he had done: - had caused. He felt his life crumble before him. He was no longer angry. He was outraged, yes. But no; he was full of regret. That ring would be from him if he hadn't been stupid. She would have been his.
He wasn't really listening to what she was saying; he didn't bear to. Every word that left her lovely lips made him hate himself that little bit more. More than earlier; more than this morning. More than over seven months ago when he realized what he had done.
"Mr. Yaxley may not be a lot of things, but at least I can say that he is a better person than you."
He closed his eyes and a snowflake fell onto the newspaper. Upon opening them, he opened his mouth and slowly and quietly spoke, eyes filled with warm tears.
"Heà He doesn't deserve you to be his..." He didn't want to say wife. She was becoming Mr Yaxley's wife. He paused and looked at her ring, "à Do you remember what you said in your third year?" He turned back to her, "We were in the tower? Do you remember?" His voice was shaky, "Sitting by the window. You saidà You said all you wanted to be was a wife and mother. That is all. I adored you for that. You were to be mine, Delilah." He cussed at himself, "All that I am doing is for you, youà ignorant girl." Another sigh, "Everything. I am to be an auror for you." He raised his voice slightly and took a step toward her, his right hand rubbed his face, left perched on his elbow, "I could wed you if I made something of myself. That's what I'm doing." He shook his head, "And Mr. Yaxley doesn't love you like I. Don't do this."
Benedict inhaled deeply, "Please. Do not belittle yourself any more. You're being a fool."
For hours she'd stood still watching and waiting for Benedict to come ack like he'd promised. Hours upon hours passed with no change, hours upon hours passed where Idelle watched the love of her life laugh with someone else. Maybe Idelle could never love Thaddeus, maybe their marriage would be loveless, but at least Thaddeus was safe when it came down to it. At least Idelle could confidently say her fiancà would choose her out of a crowded room. "Why is a such a pretty girl so lonely?" Thaddeus had asked the night of the ball. "All the pretty girls deserve to be out on the dance floor." August would've been laughing at his American accent (which was likely from the south) but Delle could hardly manage more than a smile. "I'm sorry, I'm waiting for someone." She replied distractly, and hardly noticed when Thaddeus walked away.
Once upon a time, Idelle couldn't imagine her life without Ned. For years their children have been named in her head. They'd have nine of them-five Boyd and four girls. Their eldest son would be a junior just to boost Ned's ego, and their eldest daughter would be married after their mothers. None of that would be happening. Benedict had destroyed every hope Idelle had for their future. Benedict had released an outraged bull into the china shop of Idelle's dreams.
Did she remember sitting in the tower and speaking of the future? Of course she did. That was when Idelle had first started to imagine Ned as her future husband. However, Dellie couldn't see how such discussions were relevant anymore. She was getting married, Benedict couldn't matter to her anymore. "How do you know what my fiancà deserves?" She demanded, her fingers curling tightly around her arms. "How do you know anything about my life now? You've been gone. You-" Her voice cracked and Idelle abruptly turned from him. Steaming hot tears cascaded down her already red cheeks, and she felt so hurt and angry that he once again had managed to make her cry.
Wiping at her tears, Idelle let out a few shaky breaths before turning back to face Ned. Her cheeks were tear stained, and her complexion splotchy from the strain of stopping her tears. "You left. You chose to walk away. So you do not get to throw the past in my face, and tell me how everything you've been doing is all for me." Idelle's voice was shaky at best throughout her miniature rant. She let her words linger in the air for a minute before adding with a shrug of her shoulders, "You chose this, and now you're coming back eight months too late."
She had caught him off guard. He didn't; he had no idea what her fiancà deserved. He had no right to know. But he believed he knew. He believed Mr Yaxley was not good enough for her; Benedict was and she, to him. Benedict was the one who deserved Idelle, not this pretentious American arse who thought he could be snide by stealing Benedict's girl. Pathetic. Childish.
Heart-breaking.
The night everything changed was the night Benedict stopped at the split pathway and pondered on which route he'd choose. And now was the time for him to make that choice, to continue his journey.
A pathway filled with thistles and darkness; scary monsters and devilish fiends. A bad, bad path. Though, at the end of it all was happiness. Happiness with Idelle. He had to get past the brambles and the bushes and defeat the cruel beasts before he could fix everything.
Or a pathway clear and sunny; as bright as a summers morn. Free from obstruction and easy to get through. A nice path indeed. But at the end? Nothing of want. A family? Not what he wanted. A career? Not for who he wanted. A house? Not where he wanted. But it was easy. Easier than what was happening.
And however much he wanted to take the first path, it was the second that he was being pushed toward; an easy way out. But he knew û deep down û that there was no escape from what was chasing him: - his regrets; his sorrows. Everything he had done wrong was quickly approaching and he couldn't let it catch up to him so he had to run.
"I.." Words did not leave his lips. Her second question hit him, "Butà " Still no words. She turned around. No. Not again. The last time she cut her sentence so abruptly and the last time she turned to face away from himà no. He took a deep breath in. Please don't turn around, Please don't cry, Please don'tÃ
And she looked back at him.
His world was no more. He did leave. He did walk away. She was right in everything she said. Not one lie. But he was back. Surely that accounted for something?
"Ã and tell me how everything you've been doing is all for me."
Silence. A gulp.
Eight months too late. No. She was wrong. He wasn't late. She wasn't married. She was engaged.
But seeing her red cheeks, stained with the sadness of his actions made him realise, to its fullest and most frightful extent, what he had done. But he was determined; persistent. He would not let his demons catch up to him. He would jump the fence between the two pathways and fight across the brambles and fend of the creatures of darkness.
"You know how much you mean to me" His voice was soft and quiet, "û and I know how much I mean to you." He said, breathing in. He wiped his eyes, "We know each other and I know that you won't give up. I know you won't allow thisà uneducated American tat degrade your name. He will use you like a pet. An object." He sighed. He didn't even know if he was right; he just needed to say something to get her to see that what she was doing wrong, "I know you don't want to marry into his house." Benedict huffed, "Do you understand the mistake you are going to end up making?" His hurt was burying itself deeper and deeper into the pit of his stomach with each word he tossed at Idelle, "I care for you a lot Idelle and I will not û will not û stand idly by whilst you go wandering off with this man who, without a doubt in my eye, you've no love for." He closed his eyes; his rage had made its way back to the forefront of his ever so confused brain. His eyes opened once more, looking at her blankly. The tears had dissipated. His anger was dominant, "I beg of you not to try and humour yourself by getting with such a barbaric boy." He let out a breathed, single chuckle, "And I don't even care for your squib of a sister. Do you know how much pressure I have been under by my father because of her blood?" He shook his head, "And because of my feelings for you, you ignorant girl, I care not. How dare you not only claim that I chose for you to marry him but for I not to know my own motives?"
He was more than angry.
He was livid; perpetually so.
It was growing and never ending. His demons were gone. But where? Inside.
Inside his mind; his head. His very soul. They had caught up with him whilst he edged to that path. He just didn't understand why. Why she'd do this. Why she was trying to argue.
Why she chose him over Benedict.
"Do not marry him, Delilah. Marry me. Your parents would like it. I would like it. I know you love me." He let out a sigh, calming his voice, "Because I love you more than I'd ever cared to." His last few words had a tone to them. Not of anger or sadness. Not of regret but of realisation. Of knowing. Today, it seemed, had become a day full of understanding exactly who he was and what he wanted. So many things were becoming so clear to him that it scared him. Hurt him.
He loved her and now he knew how much. He knew he had loved her for a long while but now he knew the true extent of his emotions, "More than I could have imagined ever loving you." He continued and the anger had gone once more. He was back to regret, "You are all I want, Delilah. On that eve, when I left you to dance with Victoria, I wanted to be with you. I was a foolish young child who had made a mistake. I knew that straight away. But Delilah, see what a fool you are being in this moment. I was too proud to come back to you then but I am here now. Tell me you do not wish to marry me. Tell me with honest words. I beg of you." He didn't blink. He didn't turn. He looked; looked at her in the eye.
Idelle's heart felt shattered inside her chest. Everything ached. All she wanted to do was wrap her arms around Ned's taller form and make him promise to never hurt her like so again. All she wanted to was pretend nothing was wrong. All Idelle wanted was Ned, but she could never have him because she had to be safe. She had to know that her husband would be there for her at the end of the day. She had to know her husband would pick her.
And Ned had already proven that he wouldn't.
Endless streams of tears slipped down Idelle's warm cheeks despite her feeble attempts to keep them at bay. Ned didn't get it. He would never get it. Benedict would always be the selfish creature he was, and think that his actions had no consequences. He would believe she would always be standing idly by waiting. Ned would rather have Idelle stomping on her own heart than being happy with someone else. "You mean nothing to me," she mumbled. "You are nothing. You are simply someone I used to know." More tears, so many now that she had to bite on her lip sharply to keep from crying outloud. Eight months of crying taught you a few things about how to sob without making a sound.
"I love him." Idelle told Ned, though it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself. "I love him for being kind to me, and for all of the nice things he's done for me. An American Tat? Really? Have you a clue as to who my fiancà is? Or did you simply see my name splashed across the paper's and leaped to claim what you wrongfully thought was yours?" The tears were still falling, but she managed to get the fact of her anger thoroughly across. "What mistake!" Idelle screamed, stepping back from him and pushing her fingers through her hair. "What mistake can I possibly be making other than being here alone with the likes of you? Mr. Yaxley has a home to provide for me with, and he has a job that can support me and any children we may have. What do you have, Mr. Bates? You live with your parents and are still in training! I'm not sorry for progressing further with my life." Everything now was anger. Everything. Benedict thought himself entitled to things that never belonged to him. He made useless claims about how Mr. Yaxley thought her to be little more than a toy or an object, and yet wasn't that what Ned himself was doing?
Wasn't that how the love of her life was treating her?
Benedict speaking of Elsbeth made Idelle do the one thing she never fathomed herself doing: slapping him. Her hasty steps towards him, her hand flying, the immediate sting, it was all happening before she could sincerely process it. "Don't you dare speak of my family. Ever. We are not some muggleborn family that you're so frightened by. You disgusting, evil, purist, pig." Idelle wasn't sure if she'd ever been so angry in her entire life. Elsbeth may not even be considered a sister anymore, but Ned had absolutely no right commenting on her. "You're an ugly person inside and out."
Idelle could almost laugh when he pleaded with her to marry him. In fact, a few seriously dark chuckles escaped from her lips. How could she marry him? How could he even ask her to? Her engagement was already announced, plans were already being made. Ned was too late, what was too hard to comprehend about that? "I wanted to marry you eight months ago." She told him after regaining the distance between them. "Hell, I wanted to marry you last week. You let eight months go by, Ned. You let this happen. You did, not me. This is all on you. You think I want this? That I want to be here--screaming at you? I don't. This is hurtful, far more than you could possibly imagine." Damnit, Idelle could feel the tears falling again as she steadily got out each word. "I wanted you to tell me no, that you didn't want to go dance with some broad. I wanted you to pick me. But you didn't pick me. You picked her. I wonder if I hadn't gotten engaged would you be here now begging like you are? Or would you make me wait in another eight months of silence?" Pain flooded her heart, her fingernails caused impressions on her palms.
"I can't marry you, Ned. You waited too long." She whispered finally, feeling emotionally spent.
"You mean nothing to meà you are nothingà someone I used to know."
He could feel his gut turning and spiralling; the perplexing labyrinth in the maze of his puzzling mind continually confusing him with so many different emotions. None of which were fathomable.
And all he could do was speak words with which his mind did not grasp and look at her with eyes with which he wish not were open. It was painful. The very thought of turning himself blind with a simple hex had crossed his thoughts for a split second. Long enough to realize his eyes were too valuable to be hexed, though, and the idea was quickly dismissed.
As he spoke, she responded: A typical albeit heated and emotional conversation. He wasn't really listening. He knew she was being an absolute idiot, even if she didn't see it. He was American! Not good for her. Yes; he was nothing more than American tat. Rubbish; scrap. A useless pile of garbage. Benedict was right. He knew he was right. He just needed her to see reason.
"You are rightfully mine," he hissed quietly; barely audible. Then, as if not even thinking û as if Idelle could think û she belittled his training, "I beg your pardon? I am training to become an Auror. I am not some American ponce with a low paid, unskilled job as a shop boy." It seemed fitting for an American, "He's most likely some spoiled upper class urchin living solely off of his parent's funds. I saw him a few times in Hogwarts. Pathetic." Not sad. Not angry. Disappointed.
She did disappoint him. The pinpoint location on his mess of emotion; a web of intervening and entwining feelings all coming together in a perfect centre; disappointment. He was disappointed she chose him. Disappointed she was being an idiot. Disappointed he hadn't spoken to her sooner.
And Benedict spoke up again, talking of her sister û the tainted one û and she slapped him; a sharp, sincere slap stinging the side of his saddened face. She had never hit him. Not when they argued the first time; not when he jokingly annoyed her. Never. The simple contact of her skin on his made everything worse. He didn't know why and didn't wish to know why. But this was more painful than reading the headline from the paper on the floor.
She had hit him.
And insulted him more than anyone could. He was more than hurt now. He was emotionally broken and absolutely furious.
"Frightened by a mudblood? You stupid, pathetic child." That was what she was; a child. Nothing more. He could see that now. He had fallen in love with a child, "Why would I û a pureblood û be afraid of the murky, disgusting blood of a muggleborn? Youà impertinent being. I have waited for you since the day I met you and you intend to wed an American ponce? I do not even know why my heart asks for you anymore. And your family? If I recall, you and that squib can't even be civilised with one another. Your family is corrupt and I was a fool. You are traitorous andà " He looked down at her, "I can't comprehend you."
The anger brewing inside of him was becoming too much. She had degraded and belittled him too much. But he loved her.
Why did he love her?
Nothing anymore made any sense but there she was with angered eyes and there he was with a stinging cheek. So he had to do something; appease all of his emotions. He raised his hand and quickly drew it across her cheek with a forceful touch yet he didn't let his hand leave her cheek. He looked into her eyes. Those beautiful eyes that belonged to such a beautiful girl. He hated her; insulting him and belittling his lifestyle. And he loved her. So his lips met with hers for a brief moment before he realised what he was doing and he realised everything. Immediately he regretted his actions. His pride had dictated what he had done. But his emotions did, too. He was a confused little boy, deep down. And he wished he had only done one thing, not both.
Benedict took a step back and begged her not to marry the American. Told her how he felt.
"I can't marry you, Ned. You waited too long." She said; he did. Far too long.
What was he to do? He was in the middle of his labyrinth; filled with mixed feelings of anger and love, leading to nothing but disappointmentà He didn't know what to do. Life was complicated and Benedict knew he was in the wrong.
"I'm sorryà " He said, as if pleading. He was sorry for everything; that had transpired in the past eight months. And in the last few minutes, "Ià you insulted me, surely you must know this." He regretted hitting her but he knew he had good reason to; she had insulted him.
He stood back and ran his left hand through his hair, looking to the sky briefly with reddened eyes.
His gaze turned back to her.
"I know I have made the wrong choices and subsequently mistakes happened and I know you despise my being here û perhaps even more so after my outburst û but hear me now and heed my words. Please." He took a breath inward,
"I love you Idelle Echelon-Arnost and nothing will change that. I am sorry I waited too long to call you mine. But I am calling you mine now so please end this farce so we can marry."
After landing a singular slap, Idelle wanted nothing more than to land fifty more. Her fiancà worked for the ministry! He was a liaison for the British Ministry in America. The British Ministry of Magic trusted Mr. Yaxley to keep the relations between the countries relaxed. What did Ned know, if anything? He was just a bloody fool, and would always be a fool.
"Training being the keyword in your statement," Delle hissed back at him, "meaning you aren't quite yet an auror. Your employers couldn't care less about whether or not you exist. You are a speck of dirt on the window to them, an annoying fly." As she hurled these insults towards Ned, Idelle found it hard to believe she once planned her future with him. All the nights in the clock tower, the few letters they corresponded through during the summers. All the polite conversations in the common room, the snuck in smiles during classes. Everything. Everything was for naught now. Seven years of her life were utterly wasted because she'd spent far too much time invested in Ned.
Of course Benedict was afraid of muggleborns. Why else would he be so fiercely against them? What was the worse someone not of pureblood could do? Live? Breathe? Use the very magic that was engraved into their genes? Ned was afraid of not being special, of having to share, of having to be kind to people just for the sake of being kind. Or, at least, this was how Idelle understood it. It was the only way her mind could make sense of such hatred towards innocent people.
Laughing at the insanity of Ned's words, Idelle shook her head at him. "You're begging me to marry you as you call me a child. You've waited for me? Where have you been since May, Mr. Bates? Dancing in the arms of Victoria, right? Oh, it must have been pure misery waiting, huh?" More laughs at his expense. Merlin, he must have been truly off his rocker if he thought this a good way of wooing a woman. "And the inner workings of my family are none of your concern. We're traitorous? What about that brother of yours? The one who fell in love--the very same thing you're complaining to me of--with a muggleborn? My family is traitorous? I can say the very same of yours."
And then, he slapped her, causing Idelle to look at him with wide eyes as he gently cupped her stinging cheek. How could he? Thaddeus would use her as a toy? Wasn't that what Ned himself was doing as he played with her?
Idelle blinked and Benedict's lips were upon hers. Their first kiss and their last, all in one. Rapidly stepping back now, Idelle put as much distance between them as she could without tripping over anything. Had that really just happened? Had Ned really kissed her? After hitting her? Years of wondering what it would feel like to have his lips on hers, and it finally comes at the worse possible time. "No. No. I don't understand." She stuttered out, her hand still at her stinging cheek. "I'm a child, remember? I don't know anything." What on Earth had just happened?
Shaking her head no, Idelle turned to look at her house looming over the garden. "I'm sorry, Mr. Bates." She stated, and started walking towards her house. Turning back to look at the love of her life, Idelle gave him a deep frown. "I can't love you anymore." And with that, Idelle hastily moved until her feet were on the concrete of her porch.
Benedict's fire was burning brightly of the perpetual ire growing inside of him. She was belittling him. He was furious, livid, annoyed, outragedà Words could not explain this emotion for if there was a word for it, it would still be unable to describe accurately how he was feeling.
Yet, through all the unbearable and affronted emotions she was portraying, one stood out like a black sheep in a white flock; love: an unconditional feeling of great attraction similar to that of the largest magnets in the world; she was south and he was north.
However, his never-ending odium toward her speech supressed his love and he opened his mouth.
"Do not speak to me in that manner, you vile girl." No thought to his speech, a continuing pattern on this waterfall toward the rocks. Every moment of this scenario was unbearable; he'd wished not to have had it. He needn't have read the Daily Prophet this morning. He could have conditioned himself to not care for her prior to receiving the news, even. He didn't wish for it to be this way.
His next words were spat at her, "I haven't spoken to her since then. Perhaps I should marry her though. Someone I barely know; met at a dance. She'd be a good suitor. A stranger. Makes perfect sense." His words were directed more at Mr Yaxley than himself and he didn't expect a response.
He clenched his fist, a nerve pulsing on his forehead. Charles. A ghost of a name, "I have no brother." Benedict hissed, "I lost my brother when I was in Hogwarts studying. And that mudblood deserved what she got for trying to taint my family. You claim us traitors for keeping ourselves pure?" He didn't care anymore for sparing her emotions, "My sibling doesn't exist. My family corrected any mistake thatà that thing had made as soon as we became aware of the problem. We are not traitors; we are true to our own blood and wish for it to remain pure. Your pathetic little family, however opted toà accept the filthy little blood your sister had? It's worse than being a mudblood. Your squib is a dirty little muggle; nothing more. She can't even claim she's of half magical blood." He shook his head, "And you defend her? Why? She is not worth protecting and it seems yourà family isn't either. Your family are traitorous; I see why my father tried to plead it me now. The Bates family is pure, unlike your family so do not, under any circumstance; claim us to be blood traitors. You sickening little vermin."
There was an order to society; an order to life and that order had a hierarchy and upon reaching a certain point in that hierarchy, a certain amount of rules were to be adhered to and there was a degree of respect demanded by those on top. Benedict was higher than Idelle; he was a man. And she was being disrespectful. And his disgust for her words overrode his feelings for her. She needed to learn respect. And so he knew what he was to do; show her where she belonged. Butà he loved her. He needed her to know that, as well. He hit her and then kissed her.
And now she was the one who didn't understand. Neither of them truly understood the complexity of the story being told as they stood there, distanced apart from themselves stood in the snow with the paper on the floor, flapping in the wind. And for a brief moment, they were equal.
She turned around, "I'm sorry, Mr. Bates." Not Ned. Mr Bates; this signified the end. She began walking.
Her next words blew his anger away into nothingness and his love for her came to true comprehension to Benedict
"I can't love you anymore."
Her words echoed through his maze, smashing through every wall and tearing down every bush. The labyrinth was gone; no more. All that was left was the shadow of his former self surrounded in the rubble of his broken dreams and shattered memories. She couldn't love him anymore. It wasn't that she didn't û but she couldn't. That word screamed at him with a fury so fierce and strong that it ruined everything. Nothing was anything anymore; everything was nothing. He felt like an anchor was falling into the ground, burying itself in the sand and preventing Benedict from doing anything. And when he did nothing, his eyes were open.
Benedict could now see everything for what it was; a door had opened and with every door that opened, another closed and each time a door closed, a window was uncovered and through the looking-glass, he could see. He could see the choices he had made and the paths that he had taken. He could see the cracked cobblestone trails that he had so proudly strode down so many times in his life. He had been in front a forked pathway similar to this one before: - looking down each valley in the shadow of his life, eager to make a decision but that eagerness was zeal he'd care to not have in this moment.
He understood now. Eight months ago he had allowed his demons to control him and push him down the easy route. He had let faux beauty take control of his actions and right now, here is what stood true beauty. Idelle Echelon-Arnost; the figure of an angel with a halo as bright as the sun itself. A raven with long wings that was far too good for that pompous, purist pig from the year above; too good for Benedict Bates. She was everything he'd wanted and more; so he understood. He understood precisely what had happened.
And he didn't stay because of what he now knew. He didn't want to stay because he kept choosing the wrong path; doing what he wanted. He was going to break the pattern. He wanted to stay and hold her forever and forget about everything.
His mind warped and his body contorted around in a ball of spirals and impossible angles. His world stretched into a fusion of many colours that, ultimately, looked like just a dark mess. And he re-appeared where the he first read the paper; in his house. By the dining table.
"What happened?" His father asked with concern, "You look like you've been through the troubles. Did you--?"
"Yes." Benedict interjected; a shivery lip and quivering voice.
"What did she say to you? I told you her family isn't best suited for ours."
He didn't answer but the five words ceased to stop running around his broken fortress, causing havoc everywhere they went.
A single tear trailed down his cheek, coming to a silent splash on the wooden floor. He hated those five words and hated himself for everything he had done in the last eight months. He looked at his father and forced a smile but remained silent.
Those five words were screaming.
æI can't love you anymoreà '
Benedict was going to do what he didn't want to from now on; to ensure he didn't wander down the wrong paths in the hopeless dream that Idelle would be his, despite all her issues. His love for her was an unconditional feeling of great attraction similar to that of the largest magnets in the world, after all.
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