Wandering (Gin)

Sarcasm was laced through Darren’s voice as she released her breath with his answer. Naturally, her eyes narrowed directly back at him. They were no strangers when it came to arguing, but with Darren, it had always felt like as much as their heads could bump against each other, an overarching level of understanding was always lingering. Perhaps this was what had her comfort level stay consistent throughout the years, constantly pushing his boundaries and testing the values that his family had tried to engrain into him. ”Don’t give me that.” she quipped. It took everything in her to not point her finger at him as she replied. ”She doesn’t exactly seem like the type to do anything she doesn’t feel like.” including moving out, she finished in her head. Ginevra had not believed that Lucy would have stayed in the manor out of need, but instead out of pure spite.

Allowing him to guide her forward this time, she was only slightly more prepared to feel his body press against hers again seconds before their lips met. Gently applying pressure with a squeeze of his hand, her mouth opened for him. Thanking any higher power that could be watching as he pulled away, her brain felt hazy each time he initiated physical contact with her. Each moment felt like a dream and one she could not say had not crossed her mind before, only to find herself waking up next to someone who she had only willed herself to try and fill that void with.

What she wanted was not always what she needed and this scenario screamed that reminder down every muscle in her body. She wanted to take full advantage of Darren’s desire for her, but she needed answers. Real life had a handful of surprises in store for her and she was really hoping, just this one time, that it could be what she had been wishing for. Biting his lower lip as their lips separated, she whispered, ”Too bad.” in response to his request to not mention his ex-fiancée again. Did he really believe that he would not have to clarify a few gaps in their timeline? That she would willingly jump into his arms, no questions asked? When had she ever let him off so easily?

Entering the manor, she sucked in the reality that another female had lived in the home. Smiling at the house-elf, she knew enough about her own that a frown appeared as Blinky retreated so swiftly. Registering the elf’s response to a guest’s presence, the décor and changes to the manor, Ginevra felt momentarily overwhelmed.

Excusing herself to the bathroom, she didn’t wait for him to direct her. She had been in the manor before and knew enough to quicken her pace, only half shutting the door behind her. Stretching her hands out and leaning them against the cold countertop, she closed her eyes and took the minute to breathe. Twisting the tap and listening to the water run, Ginevra splashed her face with cold water. Allowing the water to momentarily drip down her face, she stared at herself in the mirror as the droplets moved, wondering how to proceed from here. Turning off the tap and turning to dry her face, a grimace lined her features as she noticed the shade of the towel, knowing instantly that this had not been a male’s touch.

Leaning against the wall behind her, she felt heat rush through her body. The more she allowed herself to take in the features; increased awareness of what his life had looked life without her sunk in. He had been living with another woman- he had not only considered marriage with someone, someone who was not her, but had presented her with a ring. Someone who had a personality with a vast number of qualities she personally never had a desire to see in herself. What else had he planned with her, what else had he.. done with her? In this house, possibly even in this bathroom? Feeling her respiration rate increase, she pulled her sweater over her head until she sat there in her leggings and sports bra. Ginevra was fairly certain that if she remained in the bathroom with only her thoughts she was going to vomit.

Exiting the room and returning to where she had left Darren, she hugged her sweater against her front, stopping beside one of the staircases that led upstairs. ”Can I borrow a shirt or something? I didn’t exactly leave the hospital prepared to feel like I was going to implode.” her voice came out very matter-of-fact, but her cheeks flushed with a slight red, both from the heat she felt coursing through her veins and the realization that she was not exactly showing the highest level of modesty only minutes after entering his house. ”Because we really need to talk, and I need to feel like I can breathe while we do.” taking this moment to look back into his eyes, she had always found comfort in the defined lines of his face, the brilliant blue of his eyes soothing her back into a familiar place she yearned to drown in.

“… Help yourself,” Darren quipped as Gin left to the washroom, without needing to be told where it was. It surprised him that she would still know, given how long it had been since she was here last. Perhaps then she had also noticed how much the place had changed, and no doubt how much of it reflected a woman’s touch. For Darren was clearly not an interior designer. Until this moment, it had never occurred to him just how much Lucretia had changed the place. Even the mirror near the entrance he now was gazing into at his reflection in was put up there by Lucretia, as was the pureblood supremacist figurine placed on the desk below it. In the years since Voldemort fell, purebloods had taken to collecting and proudly displaying this type of stuff as a symbol of their resistance and spite towards the new establishment. Darren had not even noticed the figurine before.

He sighed and cursed himself for having been such an idiot. In the heat of the moment, this had seemed like the best place to take her with its scenic beauty and comfy interior. Lucretia and everything about her had drifted from his mind. It wasn’t just that though, looking at his mother’s portrait was forcing some of the doubts that he had pushed down for the moment to surface again. He wondered again what his parents would think of him being with a half blood. Not just a half blood, but a girl whose father was a muggle and who wore that fact on her sleeve proudly. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she was a werewolf to boot. Darren’s father would have disowned him on the spot. His mother would have taken a more rational approach. It wasn’t hard to imagine what she’d say… “She might be a nice girl, but she doesn’t know the *old ways*. And your children will lose our roots.” ‘Old ways.’ His mom had always stressed that regularly, and Darren had always scoffed at it. It was only now as an adult that he understood the importance, especially in a world where the old pureblood ways were rapidly transitioning from rare to nonexistent.

Darren shook the thoughts out of his head again. They could wait, for now he had to do some damage control. “Blinky,” he said quietly. He needn’t have bothered keeping his voice down, as Blinky appeared in front of him with a loud CRACK.

“Yes, Master?” she responded, bowing low.

“Blinky, did Lucretia leave anything of hers here?” he asked urgently, but keeping his voice low enough that he was certain Gin wouldn’t hear. He knew Lucretia had taken most of her belongings with her, but with the amount of possessions she had, Darren was skeptical that she hadn’t left some things behind. He really should have done this before.

“Yes Master, Mistress Lucretia…” Blinky babbled loudly, not bothering to keep her voice down at all.

“Quiet!” Darren interrupted, alarmed. Gin certainly would have heard that. Blinky bowed again.

“My apologies Master. Blinky will punish herself for speaking too loudly!” Darren scowled in response, Blinky had started punishing herself a lot more after Lucretia had moved in. Darren had never encouraged it. “That won’t be necessary, stop being an idiot, just answer the goddamn question.”

“Yes sir! Blinky will answer Master! Mistress Lucretia brought many things, furniture, rugs, paintings…” Darren facepalmed. His patience was running thin, maybe the elf should punish herself after all. She clearly had trouble understanding the difference in personal possessions and things Lucretia had merely bought for the house. “No, I meant *her* things, like…” At that moment though, the bathroom door creaked open, and Blinky vanished with another loud crack. Darren wanted to facepalm again, this literally could not have gone any worse.

As Gin walked towards him, he noticed she had taken off her sweater and was not wearing too much underneath. Recovering from his momentary surprise at this, Darren felt his desire for her shoot even further up and, totally misreading her intentions, thought about whether he should take her to his bedroom. The next words out of her mouth put an end to that thought. “Shirt?” he said blankly, confused at first, and then irritated. Why did she have to wave the fact that she was half muggle in his face? “First of all, you are in a wizarding house, not a muggle one,” he said sternly. “I have robes, not shirts.” He probably did have a few shirts somewhere, after all he had to dress as a muggle occasionally. But her request had annoyed him.

“And secondly,” Darren added slowly, as he stepped towards her. He hesitated slightly, but then placed his hand on her hip, feeling her bare skin. “I don’t think you need either. You look great just like this.” He was running on pure desire at this point, and that was fine. Tomorrow no doubt he would wake up and feelings of regret, anxiety, and bitterness would resurface. For tonight though he focused on keeping the those thoughts at bay. Letting his desire take over was a good way to do so. But her wanting to talk wasn’t helping. Between making love to the girl he had loved for a decade, and being interrogated by her on his poor decisions, he knew which he'd prefer. Darren pulled her towards him again and, leaning down, his lips touched her neck. “And I definitely don’t think we need to talk. We’ve talked enough,” he murmured against her skin.

Ginevra had tried to ignore the CRACK as it echoed through the hall. Initially, she had wanted to stay in the bathroom a little longer to give the elf some space, but as she realized Darren had likely summoned Blinky when she had excused herself, curiosity struck. Why was he in such instant need of the elf? Only hearing snippets of the conversation, the words Lucretia and quiet rang clearly, contributing to her coming to the end stop at the staircase. Had he not been honest with her? Ginevra could not think of a reason he would claim she was no longer in the house if entering would have surely proved otherwise. Was this what contributed to the high presence of femininity around the house? There were so many questions swimming around her head that needed answers.

Raising her eyebrows, Ginevra glanced around as she stopped and registered that there was no house elf around. ”Have a good chat?” she inquired, blatantly not including what she had or had not heard. Thus far, she remained fairly clueless on what his intentions had been in summoning the house elf. As much as she would have loved to take in all the details when he thought she had not been around, her body rising to an internal temperature that felt equivalent to lighting on fire had taken precedence.

Having glanced towards Darren as she requested a shirt, Ginevra had not intentionally used muggle terminology, instead having defaulted out of habit. When she was not at work, she spent a fair amount of her time in the muggle world. Often, on days like today, she walked around among wizards in her muggle attire, rolling her eyes at anyone who suggested she carry two separate outfits if she planned to do any shopping prior to returning home. Catching the look in his eyes, Ginevra took in the look of confusion, followed far too closely with irritation. ”Dress me in a bed sheet for all I care. It’s bad enough having been a half-blood in this house, never mind a now half-naked werewolf.” clicking her tongue at the thought, her own reference to a bed sheet had her glance up the stairs for a moment, betraying her initial intention to do nothing other than retrieve answers.

Feeling his hand on her hip, she noted the hesitation. Tilting her head, Ginevra tried to process the side of the man she had known for so many years, the side that did not exude confident arrogance in everything he did. On instinct, her head stretched to the side and exposed more of her neck as his lips grazed her skin. Dropping her sweater to the floor, her hands moved to his robes, moving the fabric aside. She slowly traced the seam of his pants, her fingers grazing where the lining easily could reveal bare skin. Halting her movements in that moment, she was seconds away from wrapping her legs around him and caving to desire. It would be so easy to lean into his kiss, to find any barriers to furthering her exploration gone with half a thought and worry about the logistics of what that meant later.

One thing about Ginevra was, as impulsive as she could be, she was hyperaware of situations, especially in regards to her long-time best friend; Darren always counteracted the feelings she expressed when it came to acting on desire, to acting on love. It was this thought that had her scrunching her nose and squeezing her eyes shut, taking one step backward in an attempt to gather herself. His lack of resistance, his increase in desire- these were the reasons that she had questions, the reasons she needed to clarify what was going on in his head. ”Maybe you’ve talked enough. If you think any more of this,” she gestured to her clothing, ”is coming off for you, you’re going to have to let me in on why your taste has stayed real feminine. Still don’t think we need to talk?” She clicked her tongue, ensuring to keep her line of vision above his waistband, not trusting the tether held on her self-restraint if she saw how her removing one article of clothing had affected him. “I can find someone else who has no problem talking first and touching later.”

Ginevra was not sure exactly why she had made it seem like she would find alternatives to him. Every fibre of her being was begging to open for him, to let that guard down and forget every hiccup that they had experienced. Clearly, he had always been her number one. Her hand shook a little as she stood there, hoping that he would not ask her to leave for insinuating she had options. The mere thought that she did not need him was laughable, as it was less of a need to be one with him than a gravitation pull. Feeling slightly self-conscious for a moment, Ginevra tried to hold her head up high, aware that she went running on a regular basis back home in less clothing than she had on now. Darren had been living with a tall, beautiful woman up until recently. What must he be thinking now, as she insinuated other men existed, standing in a muggle sports bra and leggings? She truly was testing his patience, and it did compute that this could work against her. If he could not get passed her clothing choice, was sleeping with him really in her best interest? She had opened to vulnerability in the past and subsequently been disappointed about what followed. Ultimately, she was here to take a leap of faith. In that leap, there was the consideration that Darren deserved a chance to say his peace. The adult in Ginevra had her preference of talking done through his hips, but the inner teenager in her knew that there was enough history between them, history that had a bigger ask to ensure she maintained a level of self-respect.

Crossing her arms across her chest, she subtly pushed her forearms into her breasts, causing them to rise more prominently. She may need answers for self-respect to be ensured, but that didn't mean she couldn't have a little fun. If that punished him a little at the same time, all the power to her.

Darren was not surprised at all at Ginevra’s quippy remark. She had never been one to shy away from confrontation, and he was fully aware that she had heard some of what Blinky had said. He had racked his brains to form a quick lie but hadn’t been able to come up with anything that would still let him avoid mentioning Lucretia. “It’s nothing,” he said tersely. He didn’t want to get distracted right now with pointless bickering, nor did he want to think about her blood and her being a werewolf. Her casually bringing it up again annoyed him. Was she oblivious to the fact that he was doing everything in his power to shove that thought out of his mind, so that he could finally act on his desire for her? Refraining from thinking about it was difficult enough, confronting it right now would simply be impossible.

As she discarded her sweater, it seemed like Darren’s effort to deflect from any conflict and straight to what they both ultimately wanted seemed to be working. The manner in which she offered her neck to him, how her fingers hovered tantalisingly over the seams of his pants – it was one step away from what he desired. Just as he was about to suggest going upstairs though, she stepped back.

His eyes briefly followed her crossing her arms, and lingered there briefly as she teased him. Darren looked back to her eyes, irritation now mixed with desire in his expression. His lust for her was resoundingly obvious, and yet she seemed determined not to act on it. After years of having waited for this moment, it confounded and infuriated him that she would want to talk right now. As she mentioned she could find someone else, anger flared in him too, and he almost reached out to draw her back to him, to tell her he didn’t want to hear any of that again and that he wanted her.

Instead, Darren closed his eyes and took a moment to compose himself. Even in the heat of the moment, it was not lost on him how delicate the situation was. He didn’t have much left in the world except her, and the relationship needed to be dealt with more cautiously. He had tried to divert the topic, but she was clearly adamant about wanting to know. Had he took her to his room in the Leaky Cauldron instead, things might have ended differently. But now she was here, and despite her teasing, she had put her foot down and Darren knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t budge. She deserved to know everything, and to feel comfortable. Besides, for once it was able to recognize his hypocrisy, and he knew for a fact that if their roles were reversed, he would never have even stepped foot in the house until she was completely transparent with him.

“Fine,” he said, stepping back and taking a deep breath to compose himself. His passion and excitement had faded away, replaced by a resolute glare. “Fine,” he repeated, turning on his heel and marching to the living room. The living room was similar to the entry hall. Victorian in style, an unnecessarily and absurdly large seating area for a household of one. The Slytherin and House family crests were hung over the fireplace. Other than his favorite chair, the furniture had largely been replaced by a more modern décor by Lucretia. He picked up his pipe from a table nearby as he walked to his chair next to the fireplace, above which the Nott family Crest was hung. It had become a bad habit of his while living with Lucretia, a means of handling stress. “Lets talk then,” he said, taking a seat. He was clearly still irritated at the way this encounter had been derailed, but was resolved to deal with it.  “And while we’re at it, maybe you can also tell me the more about Matt, and any other men that may have been in your life.” Her comment, and the way she had reacted to his passions left it clear that this was not her first time. That was probably to be expected, but it annoyed him nonetheless.

Ginevra had remained generally unaware of her appearance and the effect it could have on men, as she had sparsely sought out the company. Sure, she was aware that she was attractive but beyond that, allowing herself to soak in Darren’s blatant desire was fueling her need for him exponentially. Waiting with baited breath as his eyes took in her chest, her felt heat rise in her cheeks as she anticipated a flinch, a grimace, something as his eyes would inevitably graze over the scar across her abdomen. The desire for her surely would not last when he started to take in the faults to her skin, the areas that were never to be as perfect or “well-kept” as his ex-fiancée surely had ensured. There had never been room in her schedule to ensure that she ate as healthy as she could, or exercised as frequently as others to keep the youth in her figure. She had weight on her stomach, on her hips, and she had scars throughout her body that told of her trauma. Ginevra was still convinced Darren was primarily feeling lust, and lust fueled passion had its limits.  

Deciding that it was best to take in all the truths, she did not cover herself up. Had he intentionally kissed up her right side? Had he been aware enough to know that if he had moved his mouth along her left side, that he would have traced the pink tinge across her collarbone, the ever so slight raise to the skin? Ginevra gritted her teeth, reminding herself that he would not know the lines of her body the way she had always sorted his in her mind. That she was overthinking the entire situation.

Ginevra wanted nothing more than to curl up into his arms, settling for the temporary satisfaction of the familiar flash in his eyes at the realization he was not going to get his way in that exact moment. Taking the moments his eyes were closed to release a small smirk, she had always had a twisted sense of allowing small victories. Watching as he led her into the living room, she could not help but admire the grace he naturally moved with. Wrinkling her nose as he picked up the pipe, she subtly flicked her wrist while his back was still turned and knew that his pipe would soon be filled with water. Meeting his eyes, Ginevra maintained a look of innocence as she gave up on any attempts to ask for any sort of additional clothing, instead sitting on the couch opposite to him, leaning forward and resting her forearms on her knees and lacing her fingers through each other.

Ginevra and Darren had a competitive streak when it had come to non-verbal and wandless magic. The blonde was well aware he knew of her abilities, she simply did not care to verbally tell him that his habit disgusted her. Healthy, verbal communication never had been their strong suit. Tapping her wrists against her leg, she listened as the rip in his robes exposed his bare chest, halting halfway down his chest as her concentration choked at the mention of Matt’s name. He really was jumping right in, wasn’t he? ”It’s only decent of you to be as exposed as I am.” she replied steadily, hoping the frog in her throat did not come through.

Shifting her gaze to the crest above his chair, she clicked her tongue and moved her eyes back to the male in front of her, stopping what surely would be another spiral questioning her own worth. ”What do you want to know about Matt, or as you seem to be assuming, all those other men clearly present in my life?” it took her nearly a full moment of silence to purposefully phrase her question, wanting to ensure that she also willingly gave information in return. She had nothing to hide. She owed him nothing for the time spent in between their years together. ”I started today off thinking you were engaged. Much to my surprise, we are blessed with the visit of that foul woman you presumably love, only to have her throw a knife in that. Next thing you know, here we are. I am asking that you fill in the gaps in my clearly gaping timeline.” Ginevra trailed off, mumbling something about luck with the knife being theoretical. Allowing her eyes to drop to his partially exposed chest, she shook her head her brain tried to wander back into the gutter, wondering what passion could come from irritation fuelled intimacy. Among all the years that she had been in love with Darren, his temper had never scared her. If anything, it had only goated her into testing him further, poking deeper and demanding more information. Physically shaking her head out of the gutter, she allowed her hair to drop in front of her face, obscuring her view of his body.

Darren watched Ginevra as she walked across the room. He had forgotten her request for clothing, but as he watched her now he noticed what he hadn’t paid attention to before. His lust had largely subsided, and his eyes now moved down to the clearly visible scar on his belly. He knew where she had gotten that, he had seen it before. He looked back to her eyes, and clearly sensed her discomfort and apprehension towards the scars that marked her flesh. She seemed so certain that he would be repulsed, but what Darren felt instead was guilt. Would she have these scars if he had always been with her? Would she have her condition at all? Surely he could have protected her if he had been around.

Darren closed his eyes, as if in an effort to dispel the guilt from his mind. Failing that, he drew the pipe to his mouth and used a finger to light it. Immediately, he inhaled foul water instead of smoke, and spat it out, coughing. That had never happened before, Blinky always cleaned it without issue. He winced at the foul odor in his mouth while drawing his wand to clean the pipe, glancing in Gin’s direction as he did so. Had she caused that somehow? He had a feeling that she wouldn’t approve of the habit, but he hadn’t noticed any movement by her to sabotage.

Feeling his robes rip as Gin displayed her impishness and her skill at wandless magic, Darren’s eyes briefly narrowed in irritation. However, sitting on his chair in his living room, and with his thoughts calmer and more ordered now, he was feeling more comfortable. Instead of mending them, he smiled. “Fair enough,” he responded casually. “I don’t have any cool scars to show off though.” His tone was casual, letting her know that he had seen it, and didn’t mind the imperfections on her body. Her being a werewolf as a result of that scar was another matter, though.

“Well since we are trading life stories, you should give me yours as well. You didn’t tell me much about Matt,” he responded, his tone less casual now despite his efforts. “And, is my assumption wrong?” He hoped so. He wondered glumy at what other Slytherin she had found to try to replace him with. Evidently it had failed, she would not be here otherwise, she wouldn’t have said the things she had said in Diagon Alley. But Darren was possessive to the last, and he couldn’t help feel the irritation that she had been with someone else.

“I didn’t love her,” Darren responded quickly, almost reactively as she brought up Lucretia. He had told Gin that already, that all the time he had spent with Lucretia had just reinforced Darren’s desire to be with Ginevra. Lucy merely represented Darren’s attempt to move on. To try to experience love with someone else. It hadn’t worked. “I know it seems strange, that I was engaged, that I proposed, to someone I didn’t love…” It took him a moment to even understand why he had proposed. It all seemed like a blur now, bad decision after bad decision. Darren had never been hot headed - he had always thought thrice before making decisions – and yet, he somehow still often ended up in positions that he never intended and retrospectively wondered how he had even gotten there. Attempting to articulate it now certainly was helping to reflect why, though.

Darren brought the now clean pipe to his mouth, and inhaled properly this time. Immediately, it felt like the majority of the stress had left his body, and he could articulate his thoughts again. “I suppose it’s because she did love me. In her own way, I think,” he said slowly, more to himself than to Gin. He wasn’t sure if what he was saying would hurt her, but she had wanted to know, and there was no getting around this. Not if he wanted to be honest with her. “And it felt good to be loved by someone.”

“So I proposed. Perhaps I thought if it was something more permanent I could truly fall in love with her. I didn’t. I told you already. It was never the same as the way I felt towards you.” He had said as much to her already Darren wasn’t sure if there was really such a thing as soul mates. But what he was sure about was that there were people who seemed like they were designed in a perfect way to complete each other. And coming across such a person was extremely rare. For him that person had always been Ginevra.

“Or perhaps I thought that love wasn’t important, carrying on my family’s legacy was. I met her at a pureblood party shortly after we met the last time…” That had been three years ago. Darren had never been one to go to parties and gatherings, but he had fit in there. With the other purebloods who had thrown their lot in with Voldemort and had suffered ostracization from society following that. “But whatever you might think of Lucretia, she didn’t deserve what I did to her. She didn’t deserve to be married to someone who didn’t love her. So, I broke up with her. I guess she didn’t deserve that either…” he added, closing his eyes again as he revisited that day in his memory. Lucretia had cried, she’d broken things, even begged him to reconsider. Ginevera was unlikely to feel sorry for her. Few would. Even among purebloods there were few who were as haughty, proud, and bigoted as Lucretia was. Darren, who shared those traits to some extent, didn’t hold it against her too much though. “Eventually she threw the ring down that cliff,” he said, nodding to the floor to ceiling window, where the late afternoon sun shone down on the cliffs and the sea. “And I hadn’t seen her since, until today.” He ended the story there, and raised the pipe for another round to clear his thoughts again. “So, that’s that. What else do you want to know?”

Ginevra tensed on instinct as Darren took in her body, tucking her hair behind her ear. Twirling her finger up twice, her hair lifted and tied itself in a messy bun. She had come quite skilled at pinning her hair up with minimal effort thanks to the long hours at the hospital when there was not much time to think between patient orders. Glancing away from Darren, she anticipated seeing any lust he had left disappear as he finished taking in her scars, and she had decided to skip that moment of realization for now.

Her mouth tipped up into a smirk as she heard Darren start to cough, switching her gaze from the details around the sitting room walls back to the male in front of her. Portraying feigned innocence, she was not going to admit fault that he had not seemed to register. Ginevra was keenly aware that her own wand was in her bag by the door, something she had started to do habitually after work, not having a convenient place to store her wand in her muggle attire. If she had not been capable at some wandless magic, this may never have been an option. The blonde was also aware that it did shift focus away from what fault could land on her for random bouts of magic that occurred.

As his eyes narrowed, Ginevra curled her fingers, blowing on her nails as if cooling them off. She was quite satisfied by the little reveal she had exposed, increasing so as he did not bother to mend the tear. ”If only this was the only one.” she forced a little smile, knowing that it did not meet her eyes. ”But I’m sure if you remember any of what it used to look like, you can at least acknowledge that it has healed pretty damn well.” Ginevra had taken years to practice acknowledging her trauma. The easy route would have involved suppression, taking the wolfsbane portion and shutting off the association to when her life had changed forever. This, again, was one of the reasons she had never allowed all of the scars to be healed away from existence. She needed the reminder. She wanted her reality to be the truth and the way Darren had not run after the initial discovery kept a place in her heart to this day. That being said, she did not take it lightly knowing he still had prejudice against her kind.

As he mentioned Matt, Ginevra decided this distance was too distracting for her to stay present in the conversation. Sitting there, so close to him, her body was screaming to close the gap. He spoke and her butt had only stayed in the seat she initially sat herself in due to sheer stubbornness. Deciding to cease a little bit of the control to be able to focus on giving and receiving answers, she stood and strode over to where he was in his chair. Planting herself directly in his lap, she swung her legs over the side of one arm, leaning her back against the other. Propping up her right arm, she rested her head against the palm of her hand. “You have nothing to worry about in regards to Matt. We kissed, that is all.” she replied, allowing a sigh to escape her lips. The attachment Matt had to Slytherin was one of the similarities that had made it difficult to detach him from memories of Darren.

Absentmindedly, her left hand reached up and toyed with the opening of his robes. ”So yes, your assumption is wrong. I have not been with a bunch of other men.” she paused briefly. “Only one.” Her tone decreased slightly at the admission, not out of guilt per say, but because she had definitely made the decision on impulse three years ago. Ginevra remembered parting from Darren’s manor, deciding that it was not fair to her to save herself for someone who seemed to give half a shit most days. A faint blush presented on her cheeks, realizing that she had also assumed he had meant sexually. “It was three years ago. Only happened a few times. I broke it off because he wasn’t you.” Ginevra didn’t believe she had to say more. He likely would put the time frame together and found in this moment that she did not care. It had happened, there was no taking any experience back. Impulsivity was a main drive in her personality and had been for years, regardless of practicing any sort of grasp when the need to do arose.

Ginevra intentionally left out that the male had been a muggle.

She stayed quiet, halting her fiddling on his chest, placing her hand on her thigh instead. Listening, Ginevra felt her heart tighten; trying to process the time he spent with another woman, the world felt numb. He had proposed to her, reached a point where he had resolved to presumably spend the rest of his life with her. Leaning her head back as he reached the pipe back up to his mouth, she let out a dramatic gagging sound. The last thing on her mind was trying to maintain any level of attractiveness. She did not kid herself into thinking she ever presented a lady-like front. “Either that” she gestured to his pipe “needs to go, or I need to excuse myself back to the couch.” In no world would she tell him he could not use the pipe, though she surely was not going to subject herself to stay in the vicinity with a habit she considered vile.

Ginevra let out a quiet laugh that came out more callous than intended as he mentioned how nice it was to be loved by someone. Had she not loved him, endlessly? Had she not told him more times than her pride should have allowed, trying to find any give in his altering approach to their friendship? Gritting her teeth, she allowed him to continue. It was hard to not embrace the feeling of bitterness that soaked her tongue. “It wasn’t the same as you felt towards me, yet you proposed.” She repeated, uncertainty lacing her voice. “You never once were able to tell me you even felt affection, never mind love. You could never kiss me, truly.” Her lips pursed and her eyes closed. “Darren, you lived with her. How am I supposed to believe that you are okay with moving away from what she represents.”

The reality of their worlds had always clashed. Ginevra may have had a pureblood mother but she often spat on tradition. She flaunted who she was and apart of that identity was muggle raised. Her eyes followed his gesture towards the cliff; the salty piece of her nature wishing Lucretia had disappeared off the cliff too. Ginevra knew as her heart constricted further, she didn’t mean it. There was pent up resentment towards the woman, jealousy towards what the pureblood had been able to provide Darren that she never would be able too, the feeling that life would be much easier if she cared less about morals and could settle into whatever Darren wanted to ensure his family name was maintained. That was not who she was though, nor would it ever be who she could or would morph into. Unable to help herself, she traced her finger lightly along the sharp edge of his jaw line, watching every inch it moved along. “I am a werewolf, that will not change.” It was not a question. They both knew what this meant to him, for them. Wiggling a little in his lap, she adjusted to a more comfortable position, subtly trying to lean into his chest.

His desire for her flared up again as Gin crossed over and sat on his lap. He was startled, but pleased, hoping that this meant their conversation would be short, and he adjusted himself in his seat to let her lean closer onto him. As she fiddled with his robes, Darren shrugged off the sleeves. With the tear she had created, the sleeves were barely staying on his arms. The top of the robe fell to his waist as he exposed his chest. Hopefully that would make her less interested in talking. “Good,” Darren responded gruffly, as she reassured him about Matt. He didn’t like the idea of Gin kissing Matt, but he’d take that, it was better than what he had been expecting. Wrapping a hand around her back, he pulled her closer to him, savoring the feel of her bare flesh on his. He traced his hand down her back, briefly fiddling with her strap before deciding against it. She was far too stubborn to not respond about Lucretia at least, and he was having a hard enough time focusing on their conversation as it was.

Darren’s eyes snapped back to hers as she mentioned that she had been with someone. “Three years ago,” he repeated. That had been the last time he had seen her. Had she been this guy before or after then? He didn’t need to wonder, for her eyes gave him the answer. The familiar feeling of guilt and regret surged within him. The way he had treated her had, no doubt, played a role in that decision. “And who was this guy?” Darren asked, trying his best to keep his tone casual.

The choice between having her on his lap or using the pipe wasn’t a difficult one. He placed the pipe on the table next to the chair and placed his hand on her lower thigh. He immediately missed it though as he heard her tone as she responded about Lucretia. He could think of a lot of things he’d rather be doing with her than talking about this right now.. Darren sighed. Not much to do about it then get it over with quickly. “I’m kissing you now. I want you now, you are the one bringing all this up,” he retorted, irritated. “I already explained. I apologized. I was stupid. I don’t know what else I can say…” Gathering his thoughts, he tried to calm down before continuing. “What did she represent? That I tried to move on? Like you tried. I thought you had moved on. So, I tried, and I told you, proposing was just a desperate attempt to make it feel real. Her living here didn’t change anything towards how I felt about her, or you.” He wasn’t sure what else he could say to reassure her. Although, although Darren wasn’t entertaining the thought, the truth was that what Lucretia represented was relevant. She was the type of girl that he and everyone else imagined him marrying. Not a proudly half muggle werewolf. “She’s out of my life now… She was out months before I met you today. She’s not relevant…”

Darren’s eyes inadvertently moved back to her scars as she mentioned her lycanthropy again. Without really thinking, his hand reached out to trace the scar on her belly. It had definitely healed over the years, but remained a painful reminder. Darren had been about to reassure her that it didn’t matter to him, but her being so near was forcing the thoughts he had been suppressing out, and he felt bitterness rise increasingly within him. It was one thing to have been cursed with the condition, but how could she say it so boldly, so casually, as if it was just some irrational bigotry he had to get over. His lust, having flared up again at her being right on top of him, had subsided entirely again, replaced with sourness and bubbling anger. At her, at their situation, at what he had been cursed to internally deal with.

“I know you are,” he said, attempting to sound casual but not able to keep his tone from reflecting his feelings. “Its hard to miss it, you wear it on your sleeve. That’s how Lucy-Lucretia knew.” Darren cursed himself for having inadvertently used Lucretia’s nickname. But he didn’t regret saying the rest. It wasn’t a huge factor for Darren, but he would be lying if he said the fact that a future with her would mean exclusion and mockery from the purebloods who he had become closer to didn’t matter to him. The very least she could have done was to keep it secret. “And I know it can’t change; I looked long enough to see if it could.” He stopped suddenly. He had not meant to say the second part. After Voldemort had gone, after he had come out of hiding, whenever he had entertained thoughts of being with Ginevra he had read if her werewolf condition could be reversed. He had scoured the libraries, searched the deepest tomes of the dark arts and found nothing. It was impossible.

Darren had not even found an answer to the burning question, the most important one of all for him. The one that would decide their future together, whether it would even happen and what it would be like. The events of the day would not have happened had he not locked the thought away, but tracing her scar with his finger, having her so near to him, and so casually mentioning her condition, it had flared back. “I don’t think you understand what that means to me. Or for us,” he said cryptically. Unable to look at her, he turned back to the view outside, briefly contemplating picking up the pipe again to deal with the stress.

He had accepted his love for her, confessed it, acted on it. Years of self-denial had been cast aside for the bliss of the moment, but now Darren found himself chastising himself over his lack of self-control. They should have had this conversation before. And now that he had said everything, he wondered whether she would ever move on again, or if he could. And yet… if his children would be werewolves… Could he even do this? He wasnt sure if he could move forward, or back, from here.

A part of Ginevra told her that maybe she should move; maybe she should give him space to sort of his own mixed emotions. As she glanced down at his now exposed child, her lips parting slightly. Delighted surprise crossed her features as he embraced her intension and shed his robes entirely. Responding by instinct alone, Ginevra’s body molded into his as she felt the tug his hand had guided her with. She welcomed the warmth of his touch as he traced idle lines around her waist, finding a comfort in not shying away from the subtle intimacy.

She had not expected much when it came to her admission of Matt and their limited interaction, relief perhaps, but it would have been pure naivety if she had even hoped for the same in regards to the mention of another male. Reaching out, she intertwined his fingers in her own before replying. “Three years ago.” She confirmed, moving her gaze to his. She had noted the tone he was trying to withhold and it did not scare her. Giving him a nod of thanks as he placed his pipe on the table, she continued, “You don’t know him. He was from my hometown and no, I will not tell you his name.” She knew Darren well enough to know that he had a possessive side and although she did not believe that he would find the male and cause him harm, she did not want to chance an interaction. Her goal was to keep the focus solely on them, providing as minimal detail about the choices she had made three years prior to a minimum.

Raising her eyebrows at him, she should not have been surprised that he had the audacity to try and dance around what his ex-fiancée symbolized. “Are you really going to sit here and act like she is not relevant? You know damn well what she represents.” Ginevra could feel her temper rising, her emotions raw and exposed. Her fingers unlocked from his as her lycanthropy came of topic, her fingers casually brushing against his chest as she sought a different form of physical touch amidst their volleying, turbulence of emotions. Ginevra was aware that if this interaction had happened in their teenage years, she likely would have stormed off in a fit of rage and returned hours later to find him in his dorm, angrier that he had not read her mind and followed her. Present day Ginevra, however, had learned to not expect people to know what she wanted. To sit in that discomfort and try and find resolution. She could also acknowledge that this was further than the two of them had ever reached in communicating feeling.

When Darren’s gaze shifted toward her abdominal scar, she sensed the change in his demeanor. There was a familiar sense of bitterness clouding his gaze and she could feel her heart sink. She had always known that her lycanthropy would be a barrier, but feeling it come to reality was difficult to accept and move forward despite it all. “I know that my.. affliction, is difficult for you.” Her tone was vulnerable but her tone held strong. “But if it is difficult for you accept, think about what I have had to go through to get to this point.” Her eyes tracked his movements, her teeth gently pulling at her bottom lip as he grazed over her scar. She had never let another person touch her scar. As physically intimate as she had been with another, there had been limits and a part of that was boundaries to what could and could not be touched; her scars were at the top of that list. It was not out of shame, per say, she wore them proudly. No, there was something different about allowing another person into the space of vulnerability, what those scars represented.

Darren was likely the first and the last person she would allow that honor. Safeguarding that information, her body stilled as he touched her, only realizing that she was holding her breath as his ex-fiancee’s name slipped out of his lips and it blew out slow and long. She decided against acknowledging what she mentally would consider a pet name, finding she did not have the energy in that moment to address it, as he had followed with information that was of higher interest. “You.. searched for a cure?” she questioned. Darren, like Ginevra, had been an exceptional student. It was well known that there was no cure for her condition, though if she was to understand him correctly, he had searched anyways. “Why would you do that?” her voice softened as genuine confusion crossed her features, surely obvious in that she had not even tried to find hope in changing what her life now was.

If she had been standing, her hand would have been placed on her hip. The attitude that his statement was throwing at her caused the need for returned snark to be returned. Finding that she was comfortable in his lap, she fought against the need to display the physical stance. “Most of my life I have known you are the reason my heart has broken and, quite likely, would continue to break. But I loved you anyway.” She took a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure. She paused, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of remorse and affection. Did he mean to imply that her being a werewolf could be a dealbreaker? Why, then, would he let it get to this point? It had not been a new development; this had been present for years! Ginevra was confused and she was frustrated. “What then, dear I ask, does that change for us? Please enlighten me, because as you so kindly pointed out, this is not information that I am only now gracing you with.” Ginevra was uncertain of what their future held, the difference in her world was that she had always pictured her life with Darren in it, in some form or another. She had also been stuck in her own daydream. She knew that she wanted to be married, she knew that she wanted kids. However, she had yet to consider what that meant given her situation.

“From your hometown,” Darren repeated thoughtfully. Darren had certainly not known everyone at Hogwarts, but the way she had phrased her response was curious. “Considering I wouldn’t know him, I’m assuming he wasn’t in Slytherin at least.” He was interested to know what she had seen in another man that would actually make her desire to be physically intimate with him, but she wasn’t giving him much information.

Darren had been delighted at their physical closeness, at her touch. His hand absentmindedly stroked her hair as he ignored the remark about Lucretia, and contemplated just ending their conversation, convincing her to just drop all her issues with Lucy, and making love to her. The discussion about her condition was not something he was keen on continuing. But it had to happen, he told himself fiercely, urging his desire for her away. He had already gone too far on pure impulse. He had enjoyed shoving all his problems and concerns with this relationship aside and purely acting on desire, but that wasn’t Darren. He had gone far enough on impulse, but his rational side was taking over now. But even then, it was complicated. He cared for Gin immensely, and time had shown that neither of them was quite able to let this go and move on. There seemed like no way back, but also no way forward.

Every sentence out of her mouth only served to increase his anger. Did she really not understand what he was talking about? There was simply no way. He prayed that perhaps it was simply that Darren had not been able to find this information, but Ginevra knew there were no complications. He turned back to her, searching her expression. Years of time spent together meant that he could read her to some extent, and to his horror he concluded that she had almost certainly not thought of it at all. How was that even possible? Did she just not intend to have children?

Unable to deal with the fury he felt towards her and their situation, and her being so close to him, Darren stood up suddenly. The robes fell to his feet, leaving just his pants, typically worn under the robes, on. Darren didn’t care though. “You’re right,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. “It’s not new information. It’s what I’ve been thinking for years. It’s why I proposed to Lucretia. It is what she ‘represents.” It wasn’t quite fair, to blame this all on her. She didn’t choose this. And he should have been there to protect her. But he had to say exactly what was on his mind. Her acting like it was simply a matter of loving her regardless of her imperfections had only added to his fury. She didn’t understand at all.

“You being a werewolf is one thing. My family would despise it. I’d be ostracized by my community. But… I could deal with that, for you,” Darren said. He had not accepted that until today, but knew that in his bones now. “But…” He turned away and closed his eyes, finding it difficult to go on. Opening them, he found himself staring at the Nott family crest. “Our family is as old as the walls of Hogwarts, and pureblood for the entire time” he said, pointing to the Crest as he turned to face her. The next room contained the family tree as proof. It was almost certainly to have been trimmed of names that would put doubt to that claim, but Darren didn’t think about that. “I’m the last descendant. Our family will not be pureblood if I marry you, and that matters to me. But I can deal with that too because I love you.” He didn’t think he had ever said those three words until now. But he needed her to understand his point of view.

“But… could we even have children?”

He looked straight in her eyes as he asked. Hoping that she would laugh, tell him he was an idiot for even thinking about it, that there were no complications at all. He held his breath, anxiously waiting for her response as she ditched him for the rest of the week to go to the United States.