Three Little Words

[Ruth Lockhart]

Ruth wanted to believe him, really she did, but how could she argue with what was right in front of her? It wasn't like some garden gnome had planted it in his house just to watch the chaos ensue. He denied it so fiercely that she had no idea what to think. She hugged herself tighter, trying to rationalize, trying to think this through. Rue had two very different versions of herself vying for control. The old, mostly forgotten logical side said she'd be an idiot to take that at face value, that she'd just be setting herself up for more heartbreak if she believed him. The other half told her that she should believe him just because she loved him. Neither side was winning.

She opened her mouth to say something, but found no words. Nothing was coming to her, no refusal, no acceptance, nothing. The indecision was fraying whatever resolve she had left holding her up. All she wanted to do was fall into herself and try to forget it, but she couldn't, not yet.

"You have to understand how this looks to me." She had to be logical, there wasn't any more room for anything else. "You ask for courting permission and take it back, I still don't understand why; we fight constantly, misinterpret and misunderstand everything; you say you have other people, other obligations to think about," Even in his explanation earlier about priorities and everything else, he hadn't really explained much. Quidditch, other obligations, other people, it was all so vague she had no idea what to think. All she knew was that she could count the number of times she'd cried as an adult on one had and two of them were because of him and how she felt about him, which was what made everything so difficult.

"And now that," She gestured to the poem with one hand, automatically wrapping it back around herself again, holding tight. "It's like I was missing a piece of a puzzle I wasn't sure I wanted to solve, but there it is and now I don't know what to do." She really didn't There was no clear answer, no way for her to stand here and sort out everything. Even in ten years she wasn't sure she could ever sort this out.

  

[Magnus Lockhart]

Lock shook his head, refusing to let this go so simply. He'd been working up to this conversation for half a week. It wasn't going to end this way, he simply refused to let it. They were going to fix this... Somehow.

"You're putting together the wrong puzzle," he said in exasperation. Without even realizing what he was doing, he crumbled the poem in his hand, the wrinkling sound of crushed paper crackling through the air for a moment like a whip crack. He did understand how this looked to her, of course he did, but he didn't know what to say to make her think otherwise. How could he refute the impossibility of that poem?

And it wasn't even a good poem. Somehow that made it even worse.

"This isn't about Anne Primpernelle,".he said desperately. "Please."

  

[Ruth Lockhart]

Watching him crumple the paper, something about the desperation in his voice reached her, pushed her one way when she knew it was going to lead to heartbreak and she pushed back. "I wa-" Saying she wanted to believe him was basically saying she did and she couldn't even say that honestly. Pressing her lips together to hold it back, Rue could feel herself falling apart. No matter how hard she tried to keep it together, everything inside was fractured, splitting at the seams and she couldn't hold it together. How she was still standing was a mystery to her. Her legs were weak, her knees shaking. She couldn't hold herself any tighter, trying to keep her heart from spilling right there on the floor.

The hollowness she'd been feeling previously was slowly filling up, every emotion leaking in through the cracks and making everything worse. Having nothing there had been easy, mindless, but now the indecision, the hope, the fear, everything was conspiring against her.

"What is it about?"

What could he possibly say to change her mind at this point? Even though Miss Primpernelle was gone, Rue couldn't replace her. How on earth did you walk into a relationship knowing that you were only there because the person who had come first wasn't around any more? It didn't even have anything to do with her pride, she just couldn't do that to herself or him either; she wasn't strong enough.

  

[Magnus Lockhart]

Lock thought for a moment he could see her start to break, and that momentary hesitation gave him hope. He could fix this--was going to fix this. He just needed to find the right words. Words had never been his strong suit, but he'd find them somewhere for her sake. He had to.

"Us," he said, letting the crumbled poem fall to the floor. "It's about us. Because I had all these reasons--that's what I was trying to say before. I had all these things that were in the way, and I thought I wanted all these things but then--since--since it happened I realized I don't," he said, wondering if any of that made any sense.

"I'm terrible with words," he said apologetically. "What I mean is, that thinking about things, after--after Annie died--I realized that I don't care about any of those other things. Not anymore."

  

[Ruth Lockhart]

Us. One little word and she was leaning one way again, the logical half of her struggling to come up with something to counteract it and leave her again in a state of indecision.

Awful with words. Yes, this she knew and she almost wanted to laugh, but it died in her throat. Ruth had never been very good with them either, until lately. Until she'd had to start explaining herself, without giving herself away. It was tougher than she would care to admit and he was either too oblivious to notice how much she'd let slip already or she was getting better at it.

Her hands were shaking, clutching desperately at the fabric of her dress as she battled internally about what to do. Those things didn't matter any more, he didn't care about those other things. It sounded sincere, but she couldn't get that poem out of her head. But why would he go through the trouble of saying all of this if he didn't mean it?

Her shoulders slumped, her body trying to give in as she stubbornly stayed rooted where she was. "What about us Lock, I can't go back to being friends. I can't." She laid it out between them. Once upon a time she had meant they could just be friends, she could have made that work, but now she knew she couldn't.

  

[Magnus Lockhart]

"No," Lock agreed. He was pretty thick, but even he knew that would never work. He'd known that in March, when he'd run away to Egypt. The two of them had never been meant to be friends. It was either more than that, or nothing at all, and after having lost Annie, Lock knew he could never bear to lose Ruth too. Which left only one possibility.It was time for the question.

Lock suddenly felt rather defeated. He looked at the ground, and protested weakly, "This wasn't how it was supposed to go. I thought--I thought we'd have dinner and talk and you'd forgive me and then I could ask. And everything else was going so well. My father approved. He never approves. But he's letting me have the ring and everything, and I got all this great food from the cook--"

Merlin, the food! The ham was still in the oven! Lock grabbed the potholders, with a noise that was not really a word, and disappeared into the kitchen in a cloud of frustration. Predictably enough, the ham was burnt, and Lock pulled it out of the oven quickly, managing to burn himself in the process. "MERLIN," he swore, throwing the whole ham into the sink . The potholders also were thrown, hitting the wall with dull thwaps as he turned and slammed the oven shut. His thumb was burnt, but he just ignored the throbbing for the moment, consumed in frustration at how quickly what would have been a perfect night could go downhill.

He sulked out to the doorway again, cradling his burnt thumb in one hand and looking at the ground. "I ruin everything," he said in despair.

  

[Ruth Lockhart]

Wasn't how this was supposed to go? Dinner, talk, forgiveness, father's approval, ask a question, ring. Out of everything he'd just uttered, ring stood out in her head.

Ask a question involving a ring.

Oh... oh! That's what this whole thing had been about? If her heart hadn't been hammering in her chest before, it was now and she looked at him with wide, unsure eyes. Before she could manage to say anything, he suddenly remembered the food, whirling around back into the kitchen.

With him out of the room, even though she could hear him crashing and cursing in the kitchen, everything hit Ruth all at once and she couldn't keep herself up any more. She collapsed to the floor, not entirely unlike that time in her kitchen, though the thoughts whirling around in her head were beyond courting, beyond trips to Egypt and her brother listening to them yell in the basement

A ring. Merlin's beard he was planning proposing tonight. That was all the fuss and again they'd almost lost it. What the hell was wrong with them? Honestly. No wonder Lucinda was frustrated with them.

Finally able to breathe, she stayed put on the ground in his living room, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she looked at her hands in her lap. She sat there for a minute, trying to piece together what on earth had happened in the time it took to burn the ham. Seeing him in the doorway again, cradling his hand, she would have jumped up to make sure he was alright, but she couldn't, she was pretty sure her legs had turned to jelly. "Are you alright?" She asked, looking up at him, eyes questioning, curious about both his hand and what he'd started to say before getting interrupted yet again.

  

[Magnus Lockhart]

"Fine," he said, pulling his eyes up to look at her. When he saw where she was, on the ground, he immediately forgot the burn. He forgot the ham, the dinner that was getting slowly colder on the table, everything except her, and whatever had brought her to her knees. Before he had a chance to think it through he was on the floor next to her, watching with wide blue eyes as he tried to determine what was the matter.

"Are you okay?" he asked, wanting to reach out and touch her, but not sure if she would let him. He didn't know if he'd earned that yet.

  

[Ruth Lockhart]

Ruth blew out a slow breath knowing before answering. "I think so..." She said slowly, looking up at him now that he was next to her on the floor. She felt silly sitting there like that, like it was a habit of her's, but she honestly knew she couldn't stand up if she tried.

"Are we alright?" She added after a quick moment, completely unsure of the answer. After the giant circle they'd just gone in, she couldn't' be sure of anything and wasn't going to be completely sure until she heard him say it. After that whole crazy argument, if that's even what it was, discussion was more like it, she supposed, whatever it was, she wasn't any more sure of herself than when she'd gotten here. More confused yes, a little more hopeful, yes, but no less sure.

Despite that, she was worried he'd really burned himself and she held her hands out so she could look at it. "Let me see." It was most likely something she could take care of.

  

[Magnus Lockhart]

Lock watched her carefully as she answered. The question was an important one--far mutter important than his burned thumb--so Lock didn't give her his hand right away. They were going to deal with one thing at a time, he decided, because multitasking was clearly not his best skill tonight. And the only thing he wanted to do, the only thing he needed to do, was figure out the answer to that question. Everything else could wait, however long it took.

He'd wanted things to go so differently, but he couldn't help that now. He had what he had, and they weren't going to go back to friends, so his options, really, were to let the things get in the way again--the mystery of the poem, the burnt ham, all the things--or whether he was going to push through them. He'd promised himself he wasn't going to lose her again. Never again.

"That depends," he said, blue eyes fixed on hers. "On whether you're going to marry me or not."

  

[Ruth Lockhart]

Furrowing her brows at him when he didn't let her see his hand, she quickly wiped that expression off her face. Everything else faded away, the ham, the argument, the fact that they were yet again sitting on the floor.

"That depends, on whether you're going to marry me or not."

Her eyes widened as she met his and she had to wonder if he could see her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest. She didn't waste any time, it didn't require thinking. She'd already married him once and she'd been aching to do it for real ever since.

"Yes," Rue nodded, feeling tears prickling at the corners of her eyes and she didn't even have the heart to try and hide them this time. Merlin, she felt like she was going to explode. "I think we'll be alright."

  

[Magnus Lockhart]

A smile broke out on his face, possibly the widest smile that had ever found its way onto his face. He reached out to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and hugging her tightly. His thumb protested sharply, but he didn't care. It had been hard enough to get them to this point. Lock was hardly going to let go just because his thumb was a little sore.

I knew you'd say yes, he thought triumphantly. And now they were together, finally, and Lock was happy. Very happy. Happy enough that he wanted to do something, something he didn't think he'd ever done before. Pulling back from the embrace just an inch or two, leaned his head towards her, and pressed his lips against hers for the briefest of moments.

Almost immediately, he pulled back. His cheeks were bright red, as if he were stunned and embarrassed by his own temerity. "I'm sorry," he blurted. "I should have asked."

  

[Ruth Lockhart]

Ruth smiled as he did, feeling positively elated, everything else long forgotten when he pulled her in. It was absolutely unbelievable. Of all of the things she'd been imagining going on tonight, this was not one of them. She would have never envisioned this. Wrapping her arms around him automatically she was sure that nothing would ever beat this feeling right here.... until he kissed her.

Caught off guard, she softened instantly, happy tears leaking from her eyes. He pulled away quickly, before she'd even found a place for her hands to settle. He apologized and she laughed wiping away a tear that had escaped, impatiently. She didn't say anything, just framed his face with her hands, eyes on his as she leaned in again, lips on his. No hesitation, no second thoughts. It was soft and slow, but eager and she found herself with the butterflies in her stomach again.

"I'm not sorry." She said as she pulled back, smile still in place.

  

[Magnus Lockhart]

Lock didn't think he'd ever felt anything like the feeling he experienced when she touched his face, when her lips were against his. It was as if all of his insides just exploded into a flutter of nervous, happy energy. It was hard to think, because the only thing that existed in that moment was her, and their kiss. It was slow and strong and perfect, perfect the way nothing else had been so far that day.

Ruth was going to marry him and he'd get to kiss her all the time.

"Wow," was all he could manage.