December 22nd, 1888 - Honeyduke's
Tybalt Kirke

Elsie was decidedly not a last minute shopper. In fact she'd been done with her Christmas shopping at large, by the middle of November. There were some things however, that could not be bought or made months in advance, sweets included. So as Elsie stepped into the busy sweet shop, greeted by a rush of warm air and delicious scents, she had a strict plan to get Owen's favorite treats and get right back out.

Of course that was nearly impossible, as the store itself was packed with people doing exactly the same thing. Taking a deep breath and sliding toward the edges of the room, Els picked up a little basket Mr. Honeyduke had available for shopping around and tried not to bump into anybody. That was easier said than done in the throng of people sampling treats and milling about chatting. She couldn't blame them though, the renovations to the shop seemed to have made it even more cozy and inviting, as if that had been possible previously.

Perhaps she'd get herself some hot cocoa if she could manage it, but first she needed to get her hands on some sugar quills for her brother. Squeezing by a pair of girls not too much younger than herself, she managed to find the shelf with the sugar quills and tucked a couple into the basket on her arm. She turned on a whim, thinking Lottie might like something too, when the little boxes of chocolate frogs caught her eye.

Any other year she'd be picking up a few of those to send off as well, but not this year. Plucking one of the little boxes off the shelf, she ran her fingers around the edges slowly, a soft, sad sort of smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she looked it over. Sighing quietly, she tucked it neatly back on the shelf where she'd found it, oblivious to those around her as she quickly wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye and moved to find something for her sister- right into a little display of lollipops, sending a good portion of them cascading to the floor. Mortified, Elsie righted the stand and hurried to start picking them up, blushing a deep shade of red as she tried not to look around at anybody who was gawking at her.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

Just because he waited until the last minute didn't mean Tybalt didn't like buying people presents. The opposite, indeed: any excuse was fine to get a gift, and the choosing them was very much part of the fun. But he had faith in his abilities to find things, so never did stress; the only problem with present-picking was how terribly easy it was to get distracted.

Which was how he had found himself in Honeydukes for a good forty minutes already, tossing things in a basket left right and centre, for family and friends (and himself, sure; why not, he was miserable enough to deserve it!) and marvelling at his clever idea of saving money by sticking to sweets. (He may have done better to not, you know, buy up half the shop, but.)

There was one gift he wouldn't get to look for this year. Wouldn't have to, Tybalt told himself ruthlessly, just like he hadn't had to get anything for the middle of May, and good. This was easier. Not caring was a breeze.

Engrossed as he was in his shopping, an earnest deliberation between fizzing whizzbees and fudge, Tyb heard the clattering of some sweets from a stand and whirled about, reactions quick as he might've been on the pitch. He'd dropped to the floor to start rescuing the lollipops well before he registered the rest of the scene, and he spent an excruciatingly long moment trying and failing to scrape up one of the lollipop sticks with a fumbling hand when his stare settled on Elsie Beauregard, of all people.  

"Always trying to be the centre of attention, aren't you -" Beauregard, Tybalt heard himself begin to say - blurt out, unthinking, automatically - a fond, teasing sentiment that didn't work anymore, a relic of redundant times. Once he realised what he was doing - what he couldn't be doing anymore - he promptly shut his mouth, and tried to play it off by pretending to focus resolutely on picking up another lollipop, hope she hadn't heard. (Two seconds in to an encounter he had spent months trying to even decide whether or not it was one he wanted to have, and he already desperately needed a do-over.)  

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   Elsie Kirke

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In her embarrassment, Elsie had simply sped though trying to scoop up at many pops as she could to get them back in their little basket, that she hadn't noticed another pair of hands helping. It wasn't until an all-too-familiar voice broke through the embarrassment that she looked up, clearly startled. The teasing tone that had once caused a warm flutter of recognition in her chest now cut right through, leaving her winded. She winced at how casual he sounded, like nothing had happened, but he seemed to have caught himself and that hurt even more. The dull ache that was ever-present suddenly felt like a fresh wound as she tried to collect herself.

This was bound to happen, they still lived in the same town after all, and Elsie had given herself many a pep talk about how this would go, but none of them had ever prepared her for this. Once upon a time, in what felt like another lifetime entirely, running into one another unprompted and unplanned would have been the best possible surprise in her day; now she was heartbroken all over again, cracked and hurting. What on Earth did she do now, already teary-eyed and blushing? Was there any way to escape this with some semblance of grace?

"Thank you," She managed sincerely, albeit quietly, as she straightened up and put the last few lollipops in her hands back into their basket. She moved to collect her own shopping, knuckles white around the handle as she floundered on what to do next.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

It occurred to him, a fraction too late, that if he hadn't opened his mouth and hadn't drawn any attention to himself, he might've deposited his share of the lollipops back into place entirely wordlessly. Spotted her but said nothing, made a discreet exit and just watched her go through the glass, quietly weathered that involuntary spasm of his heart.

She looked the same as she always did. Tybalt didn't know why he was expecting any different - he supposed he looked the same, too. Would she see it in his face, the furrows in his brow, the tautness of his mouth? It was taking concerted effort, already, not to crumble, wishing that they could go back to before, tell her aloud how much he still missed her. She hadn't wanted to try - to wait for him, or marry him, he knew that well enough - but that was only half the ache, wasn't it? The grief was ever-present; the loss had been worse than that. For the last six years, after all, Elsie had also been his closest friend.

Her cheeks were flushed and her face otherwise white, the same way she might have been in any awkward situation. And this was awkward: the clumsiness aside, this was unfamiliar territory, and Tybalt would be damned if he knew how to navigate it. She'd said thank you, which was - fine - Tyb brushed it off with a shrug, wondering whether she would cut things short, just turn on her heel and leave. She hadn't. (He wasn't sure whether this was better or worse. It was a swell of relief just to see her after so long of not, but all too fast the relief plummeted, sent him into freefall.)

"Could've happened to anyone," Tyb remarked, with a sympathetic smile-grimace, as though the statement would make either of them actually feel better, as if it could soothe the awkwardness of this. Could have happened to anyone... She could be anyone. Better pretend she was anyone else in the world than Elsie Beauregard. "Christmas shopping?" He asked, falsely cheerful, clearing the lump from his throat and trying for casual, carefree, unaffected, and knowing, in his heart, that small talk wasn't going to rescue anything.

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   Benevolence Crouch

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Elsie nodded, simply to have a reply, though all she could think was that, no this didn't happen to anyone, it was always her. Who else would put themselves through this? This whole thing was her fault, yet she couldn't just walk away like she should. It wasn't fair, to either of them, but after months of not seeing him and the heartache that persisted because of it, she was, just a tiny bit relieved he hadn't just stormed off.

That would have been easier though, than standing here trying to make small talk like nothing was wrong, like she wasn't coming apart at the seams. Again, she nodded in response, this time to his question, unable to find her voice, knowing it would be shaky and betray the flood of emotions hiding just under the surface. She had to say something, but she could already feel the tears springing into the corners of her eyes. She felt like she was crumbling all over again, how could simply seeing him like this this get her resolve to crack so quickly? Merlin she was a mess.

Taking a deep breath, Elsie tried to dig up the courage to continue the conversation, but couldn't find it within herself to put them both through that. She chanced a glance more directly at his handsome face (she'd been resolutely looking at a shelf just behind him), despite feeling that breathless ache in her chest. Ignoring the tears that threatened to fall was impossible- and that was the last straw. "Tyb, I can't-". Dissolving into tears, into an explanation, wasn't something that could happen, not right now, not ever. "I'm sorry," The catch in her voice was clear as she turned to put back the things in her basket and attempt a quiet escape.

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   Benevolence Crouch, Elias Grimstone

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MJ always makes her so pretty

It didn't take long to realise he was clinging to the shreds of something that wasn't even there. Even the tatters of what they'd had were dissolving in his grasp as soon as Tybalt could clutch at them. So - this was it. They had nothing left, absolutely nothing. Not even the pretence of knowing each other or of once having been friends, because already she was looking for an out from this encounter; had said she was sorry; her blue eyes had welled with tears that sent a pang of guilt through him, like he was entirely responsible for her anguish.

But that wasn't fair. He may have been the one to start the conversation, all those months ago, but it had been her to end things. Her to tell him it wasn't worth it. It was Elsie who had made it clear that they didn't want the same things, and could never work. It was Elsie who had broken his heart, not the other way around, and she thought she was the one who couldn't face seeing him again?  

"You can't?" He repeated, in a low, incredulous tone, his face contorted, all hint of his smile vanished. No sense in deluding himself then, or trying to patch up the surface of a chasm between them that now ran so deep, right to the centre of the earth - if he understood her now, Elsie would rather never see him or talk to him again as long as they lived. Maybe that was the smarter option in the long run, maybe she was right and it was what was easier, but... Tyb had gone months of that already, and it wasn't easier. It would never be easier. He was still in love with her, he couldn't lie to himself about that. He was in love with her, hopelessly, and unless he moved out of Hogsmeade - out of the country, maybe - he would have to live the rest of his life agonisingly aware that he might bump into her at any moment, tomorrow or the next day or a month or a year or ten years from now, and nothing would have changed. She would look past him blankly, and turn on her heel, and there would be the same twist of a knife in his chest that there was now.  

"You won't even try," he murmured, frustration bubbling up incoherently - mostly at himself, because there was no use in her trying, was there, when they had already concluded that he wasn't enough for her. She didn't want this. That was why they were over, in the end. Maybe if he weren't so thick, he would have already come to terms with the fact that trying would only make this worse, draw out the torture.

But maybe he just needed telling again.

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Having made is as far as the sugar quills- thankfully the only thing she'd managed to pick up, Elsie flinched when she heard him. Wiping away the errant tears, she sighed slowly knowing it was deserved. She'd earned anything he could throw at her and she would just have to take it. Clearly neither one of them was capable of moving on, not even in the months since everything had happened and it left Elsie questioning herself yet again, like she did every single day.

Els chanced another glance his way when he spoke again, against her better judgement, knowing the look on his face would just cause her even more heartache, but it was what he said that really hit home. She wanted nothing more than to try, to figure this out, to give them a real chance, but she didn't know how to do that, how to make it work without one of them giving up something they loved. As much as she tried to tell herself that she was trying to protect his quidditch career- and that was a large part of it, it really was, but part of it was self-preservation. Elsie knew, she just knew that her mother would never approve and family was everything to her. It was selfish, every choice she'd made was selfish, but it didn't change her fears.

"You won't understand," She found herself saying, tone quiet and pained, before she realized what had slipped. Elsie covered her mouth as soon as the words tumbled out, eyes wide. This was going to go downhill and fast. This was not the place; it shouldn't happen at all. "I shouldn't have-" She really shouldn't have said anything at all. "I need to go." She managed, the recovery weak at best, but she didn't wait for a response as she started for the door again.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

He half expected her not to say anything, because this meeting had not been planned, they oughtn't be speaking at all, never mind that this - Honeyduke's - was neither the time nor the place for it. Sparing her the public humiliation had been half the reason he'd resolved to stop seeing her in the first place, so making a public spectacle of themselves in a crowded sweetshop over the holidays was clearly not the best course of action.

He could see her wiping at her eyes, even when she was turned towards the sugar quills. He knew he ought to let her go before things got worse. But then, her answer. You won't understand. True, maybe, but Tybalt couldn't imagine anything worse that she possibly could have said (and maybe she regretted it, the way her hand leapt to her mouth). Too late. The condescension stung, knocked him further off-kilter than he had ever been. He wouldn't understand. No, he wouldn't. He didn't know what she was thinking - didn't know what had happened to her in the time they'd had apart - didn't know her life or her reasons or the future she envisioned for herself, only that it was nothing like the one in his mind.

Maybe he'd always been a real fool to think he could keep up with her. In the meantime, Elsie's comment had sent him reeling so far, wounded and dizzy with bewilderment, that she had started moving before he had gathered himself well enough to react. He blinked, breathed deep, left his shopping where he'd set it down and paced after her in a long stride. With any luck, it might only look like she'd forgotten something - Tyb tried to make his movements discreet as he caught up to her before she could leave, his fingers curling hastily around her wrist to keep her there, just for a moment more -

He had meant to try and meet her eyes to see if he could read her any better there, but he could barely bring himself to - and she was a different person now, already, someone he felt he didn't know at all. "Then make me understand, Elsie," Tybalt breathed, shaking his head at her in fractional, furious disbelief. If she was trying to spare his feelings - well, she had already failed at that pretty staggeringly. She wouldn't explain, he supposed, and that was probably for the best. Maybe she hadn't moved on just yet - she was still hurting, too - but it looked to Tybalt like she, at least, had resolved to.

Well, good for her.

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With a lifetime of navigating crowds under her belt, Elsie managed to weave her way through the mass of people in the store all the way to the door before he caught up. The jolt that shot through her at the feeling of his hand on her wrist sent her reeling in another direction entirely. She stopped automatically, his words catching up to her just as fast,  leaving her frozen.

Elsie closed her eyes briefly, trying to push down the next wave of tears that threatened, and took a deep breath. "Please don't make me do this here," She whispered quietly, unable to look at him, though she took a quick look around then to see if anybody had noticed them yet. It would be easier to avoid a big upset here in public, but she'd be a huge mess either way, so she may as well do it without anybody else looking on.

Her next movements were made without much conscious thought, as she gently pulled her wrist free and curled her fingers into his sleeve. It felt odd, not to simply take his hand, but Elsie wasn't so sure he'd appreciate that. Either way, she started to pull him from the shop before she could stop herself. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing or what good it could possibly do, or if she could even make him understand, but maybe she should at least try.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

For a glorious, irrational skip of the heartbeat, this could be old times. Stumble across Elsie on the High Street, casually abandon Honeyduke's, maybe steal a private moment, the day derailed in the best way. It had been near a year since they'd last done this, and painfully aware as Tyb was of this, his chest seemed slower to catch on, and his heartbeat skipped all the same. Hope sprang up like a weed, a jungle, as she took hold of his sleeve and led him across the threshold.

The cold rush of air out from the sultry, close scent of masses upon masses of sugar of the shop was warning weather, at least, woke him up to the present state of things. Making him understand; he shouldn't have asked for that. None of this was going to change her mind. And making her do this, whatever it was that he had demanded of her, well. That sounded like the call to the hangman's noose if ever there had been one - but it was still a siren song, and he wasn't deterred from being pulled along by her.

"Yeah?" He murmured, voicing the word as a challenge and a little of a plea, still clinging to some grand delusion that she would have had a change of heart in the months they had been apart and minutes they had been together again. So much for feigning carelessness.

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   Benevolence Crouch

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The brisk wind of outside helped the tears to ebb a little, the sting on her cheeks helping her find a moment of clarity as she'd clearly lost her mind. Elsie still hadn't decided if this was a terrible idea or not, but she'd already started and he was coming along, almost too easily. Nine long months of this dull ache in her chest was enough to at least try to explain herself. Who knew how it would go, but she supposed her last attempt had failed miserably, could it be any worse this time? Probably. However she wasn't doing anything on the crowded street, that was asking for a disaster.

Without another word, Elsie pulled him along, taking his compliance as the only answer she needed for the moment. Up the street, toward the alley that cut through toward her house, knowing nobody else was home at the moment could at least give her a little time to explain and without any prying ears. Her thoughts were scattered in a thousand different directions, but as she took the corner into the alley, one more glance over her shoulder to make sure nobody was paying attention to them, she focused on home, sliding her hand down to his, and disapparated.

One tight squeeze later and they landed square in the middle of her bedroom. The small room was sunny and tidy, books crammed into every available space, bed neatly made and on her desk sat her neglected journal. The rush caught up with her and the first thing she did was let go of his hand and cross the room to close the door with a soft click. It took a moment and a deep breath, but she finally turned to face him, cheeks flushed and eyes still brimming with unshed tears as she leaned back against the door, trying to collect her thoughts.

"I don't-" She started, barely above a whisper. She bit her lip, looking down at the floor before back up at him. "I don't know where to start," Elsie didn't know what to say any more today than she had back in March, but she supposed he had some questions at the very least.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

He didn't know what her plans were until she grasped his hand. He was torn between the urge to wrench his hand away or to cling on tight; luckily, the latter was what he'd begun to do, just before they were pulled out of the alleyway altogether.

Tybalt blinked at the sudden stillness of the place, slower to adjust than Elsie as she let go and moved over to the door. He drank in the space, entirely foreign to him - he could not remember ever having been here before - but also no different to the room he would've imagined. It was soft and cosy and neat and brimming with books, and even the scent of the room and the gentle sunlight streaming through the window fit, were perfectly Elsie.

If this had been another time, he would have taken his time taking it in, revelling in it, running his hands over the surfaces, leafing teasingly through a book or two, peering through the window or perching jovially on her desk. If this had been another time, he would have followed her to the door, waited for her to turn towards him again and then leaned in to kiss her where she was.

He still wanted to kiss her now. After everything he had promised and all she had already said to him, though, he knew he shouldn't still feel this way.

So instead he pushed down the feeling, or maybe let it go, and remained where he was, loitering awkwardly in the middle of the room. The tension was so thick around him that it was almost a relief when she began to speak. Best cut to the chase, Tybalt supposed, and fell those old feelings for good. "Why don't you start with what I won't understand?" He suggested, a touch of belligerence in his stare. Anything to cover the desperation.

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Elsie nearly flinched at his tone, panic starting to rise now that she realized what she'd gone and done, what she still had to do; though explaining herself would not be any kind of easy, she owed him the truth.

After a deep breath, she tried to collect her thoughts into some semblance of rationality, but truthfully, she didn't expect him to understand. She hadn't meant to say anything, but it wasn't any less true. "I don't expect you to understand because it was a selfish choice," She admitted with a soft sigh, hating how that sounded. "I thought maybe, if I," Elsie agonized over how to phrase this, but the more she spoke, the easier things were falling into place. "If I made it look like I couldn't wait, then you wouldn't have to quit quidditch." She looked down at the floor for a minute, letting it resonate around the quiet room.

"I couldn't be the reason you left, I'm not worth that, not after all the hard work you've put in." She added quietly, brushing away the tears that finally started to fall.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

A selfish choice, she said, and Tybalt floundered in confusion. What had been selfish about it? If she didn't want to get married, she didn't want to get married, and it was best for both of their sakes that she was honest about it. But that was - that was not what she went on to say.

He stared at her, more wide-eyed than before. If she made it look like she couldn't wait - wouldn't wait - then he wouldn't have to quit quidditch. So she had been doing this for him, after all.

Tybalt swallowed, watching her silently battle her tears and blinking back his own in sheer astonishment. There was so much he wanted to say, all at once, so much that he needed to contest, to digest - she thought she wasn't worth it, the sacrifice? - but his throat was closed up, feeling as though all he could do was look at her and sigh.

"And you call that selfish?" He finally got out, biting his lip against an overwhelming tide of relief, that maybe this meant she still cared about him after all, cared enough that she even cared about his quidditch. Amidst this relief was a notion that creased his brow again, despite himself, and he fought off the temptation to stride over and fold her gratefully into his arms until he had brought it up, because the air had not yet cleared between them. She had been selfless, and brave, self-sacrificing and sensible, see, he understood that a little better now, but - she must not think him capable of the same.

"Did you not think," Tyb added, frowning suddenly, "that maybe that was a choice I could make for myself?" How easily she could just dismiss herself as not worth it, without giving him any say at all.

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Elsie had been slowly curling into herself, arms wrapped around her middle under her cloak, trying to hold herself together physically as much as she could. She couldn't really see through the tears, but she mopped up some of the flood with her sleeve when he finally said something.

All she could do was shrug a little at the first part; she hadn't really explained the selfish part of it, but would now in response to his question. "You already had, or were thinking about it, back in the library, I could tell. I meant it when I asked you not to do anything you'd regret," She managed, voice catching every now and then. It had been the deciding factor, or part of it anyway, to push her to try and end things as gently as she could, which had clearly backfired.

"What if, in five years, when you could still be playing, you're miserable and it's my fault? I couldn't, can't stand the thought of you resenting me for having to give it up." That was the selfish part of it. She looked up at him finally, blue eyes hopeless, all of the fears streaming out like the tears rolling down her cheeks. "What if you gave it up and I still couldn't marry you, couldn't convince my parents that's all I want? Then what? How can I just walk away from my family; no matter how much I love you?"

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   Tybalt Kirke

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MJ always makes her so pretty

He gave a fractional nod, half weary and half defiant, confirming what she already knew. What she had known instantly, the decision he had not even needed to announce. She didn't want him to do anything he regretted, but he had been sure then and he was surer now, and even in knowing the plan for the looming end of this season all year without her, though he had dreaded it from time to time, he was nowhere near regret. He'd made his peace with it.

She evidently hadn't yet, and he understood what she was afraid of, only...

"I'm still playing quidditch and I'm miserable now, Elsie," Tybalt declared pointedly, with a ridiculous, helpless sort of laugh at how truly awful he had felt being apart from her for this many months and how ludicrous she was not to see that - and he couldn't help himself here, had not been able to help himself as soon as he'd said her name, as soon as he'd mentioned being miserable and looked again at the tears streaming down her face. He moved in towards her, unthinkingly, caught one side of her face in his hand now that she had at last looked up, and cupped it there, brushing some of the tears from her cheek and doing his best, in his look, to beg her not to cry any more. They had both been miserable enough.

She did not seem entirely convinced by their chances, even if he did quit quidditch. Perhaps she was right to expect the worst; perhaps she was only trying to save them more heartbreak later. But maybe she had forgotten just how they had left things before - how much more hopeless things had seemed to Tybalt half a minute ago today, before her last few remarks kickstarted the universe to life again.

He waited until she had finished, spent a moment in a silent daze. "But you do -" his voice hitched in the middle of his question, hardly daring to ask it in case he had heard her wrong, "- you do want to marry me?" Nothing was solved by her wanting it; he'd heard the rest of her sentence too, after all. It might never happen. He was in no position to ask her to marry him. Even if he did, and it came to it, she would not give up her family - and he would rather die than ask her to. But still. The fact that there was a chance that what she had said to him in the library might not be the whole story changed it all, made all the difference in the world.

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   Benevolence Crouch

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