July 16, 1892 - Hogsmeade High Street, Apartment above Swann Law Firm
When Everett had purchased the house before their nuptials he had thought it quite well suited. It had never even occurred to him that it might need any improvements or updates. Verity, however, had quickly enlightened him on that front once they had arrived to their home from Italy. Everett still thought the house perfectly fine as it was, but he had bought it with the sole purpose of making Verity comfortable and given how their marriage had started he didn't really feel he could say no.
Of course he couldn't say no to his little sister either. And in a stroke of terribly bad planning, Everett had agreed to let Slyvie stay with them - at precisely the same time as Verity had planned the renovations on the house. So here they were, stuck in his small apartment over the law offices, with only one bedroom and his sister refusing to let them place her in it.
Not many newly married men would complain to being trapped in a room with their wife - but Everett and Verity weren't typical. They never had been. Yes, their marriage was amiable enough - but that was it. There was no love, no visits to her room. Only a gradual friendship that had formed. It was pleasant enough, but hardly what Everett had hoped to one day have. And here he was nervous to be stuck all night in a room with only one bed.
The door clicked shut behind him as they said goodnight to Slyvie and he found himself facing the stark reality that his wife and him were to spend the night in the same room for the first time. Really the thought shouldn't make him nervous. Yet it did.
He moved away from the door so that Slyvie wouldn't hear him through the thin wood and murmured, "
I'll take the floor." He and Verity certainly hadn't discussed sleeping arrangements when all this had come about. In fact he hadn't realized Slyvie would be staying with them (he had forgotten the dates mentioned in her letter) until that very morning. Despite that he still clearly remembered how skittish she had been the night he rescued her and on their honeymoon and he certainly didn't want to make her feel any more uncomfortable than the situtation had already made her.
Verity wasn't sure what part of this situation she was most uncomfortable with. For one, she hadn't spent much time with her husband's sister yet, so to be suddenly trapped in a tiny flat for an unknown length of time was stressful. Then, there was the added complication of having to be in such tight quarters with her husband, whom she'd kissed only once in their six months of marriage. Once Verity added in the stress of the conversation she knew they had to have soon, and it was a miracle she hadn't yet broken down into a mess of anxious sobs.
She was still dressed from dinner when they bid goodnight to Sylvie and retreated to the bedroom, a fact Verity wished she remembered as it would now be too awkward to excuse herself to undress. Truthfully, she would've felt more comfortable changing in front of his sister than him. Years of living amongst other women had her well accustomed to changing around them.
However, none of it mattered as her husband — who'd been nothing but kind and chivalrous towards her since the beginning — was suggesting that he might sleep on the floor. "Don't be ridiculous." Verity said in an equally low voice with a shake of her head. "We can share the bed. It's wide enough, I think."
Everett's eyebrows shot up in surprise at her response and his gaze fixed on Verity's face. Was she serious? But then she added about the bed size. Ah. So it wasn't that she wanted him in her bed, or to try and make it work - or perhaps that wasn't all of it - but rather that she figured they wouldn't even be near each other in the bed. He was skeptical about the bed giving her enough room for comfort, but it was her decision.
"Alright." Everett agreed with a nod. He really shouldn't question her motives, this should be a good sign. Nothing to do then but treat this normally. He began to undo the buttons on his shirt to change for the night, forgetting to consider what Verity might think of this.
She hadn't anticipated him agreeing so readily. Some sort of insisting that they could make the floor comfortable (magic existed, after all) or even that this wasn't how they were meant to share the bed for the first night together. Something — anything — aside from him agreeing and undressing. Oh, Merlin.
Flushing red, Verity released a surprised gasp and turned on her heel to face the wall and afford him some privacy. Did married people undress so casually often? It wasn't one of the questions she had thought to ask Mama and with them being married now for half a year she obviously couldn't ask now. Not only would her question raise a dozen others, but it ran the risk of her secrets instantly unveiling themselves.
"Tell me when you're in the bed." She instructed with her voice unknowingly shaking.
His eyes flew back to her face at her gasp, but she was already turning around before he could discern what had caused her distress. What had he done wrong? Everett wasn't sure but then her voice came sounding odd and upset. Oh.
Everett's fingers stilled on his shirt. "Verity?" He kept his voice gentle and low. "We don't have to do this." Perhaps she wasn't ready after all. "I'll be perfectly fine on the floor." It wouldn't be the most comfortable, but it was what it was. He'd rather that then distress his wife.
"Don't be ridiculous," she repeated, although this time she wasn't entirely sure who it was directed towards. Some women weren't afforded the privilege of a bedroom entirely to themselves, nor a husband as considerate as Everett had been. It was utterly ridiculous of her to be this nervous about sleeping next to him, for he most certainly wouldn't touch her with his sister only a few feet away. Would he?
"Sylvie might need something throughout the night. You should be in the bed too, just in case." She added, still facing the wall. "It'll be fine. We're married and you're a gentleman. You can't sleep on the floor." These were all the ways she was trying to rationalize insisting he not sleep on the floor; that she spoke them all aloud was something she wasn't entirely aware of.
Was she trying to convince him or herself? Everett wasn't quite sure. But at least she considered him a gentleman, so that was something. For a moment he wondered if he should try to dispute her, but then he stopped. Why was he determined to argue to sleep on the floor?
"If you change your mind let me know." He said instead as he finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled a nightshirt over his head. He shimmied out of his trousers as quickly as possible, almost falling over them as his foot got stuck and slid into the bed to abide by her directions. It was weird, but well, their whole marriage was weird so he was willing to concede what she needed as long as it kept her from .... well from him feeling like he'd done something to harm her.
"You can turn around now." Everett assured her.
There was almost no chance of her asking him to go sleep on the floor. In fact, she would likely excuse herself and return back to her family's house to spend the night there before she put Everett out. Merlin knew whatever confrontation she'd have to have with Ford as a result of that impulsive decision would be disastrous, but at least she wouldn't have given Everett more of a cause to resent her as a wife.
Verity waited another minute after he climbed into bed before turning back around. It seemed changing into her nightgown would require far more work than him and her hands were already trembling. The last time she'd required magic for undressing was before her wand had been replaced. How was she to do this? Escaping to the washroom wasn't possible when Sylvie was in the other room, and he hadn't ever touched her more than what was proper. More than that, she didn't even know if he'd ever unlaced a woman's gown before.
Trusting him to look away, Verity reached behind herself to undo her gown's laces. It was better to take a minute longer than it was to embarrass herself by failing at magic.
It was awkwardly quiet in the room, Verity didn't even turn around. Everett wondered what he had done wrong now. Seconds stretched out into a long moment of silence between them. Everett kept his gaze on the ceiling even when he heard the rustle of Verity turning around. Again the silence reached around them.
Not able to handle the quiet much longer Everett, gaze on ceiling still, asked, "Do you need a hand?" Women always had the most damnable outfits to get in and out of, after all, and Verity's maid wasn't here so perhaps she needed help and simply didn't want to bother him with asking for help? Or perhaps she simply loathed him enough that she didn't want him to touch even the fabric of her dress. Well perhaps loathe was too strong a word, they did have a tentative friendship in their marriage (or maybe that was wishful thinking), but still she certainly wasn't easy around him. Particularly not now.
Perhaps they should have gotten her undressed before him, for now the thought of him getting out of bed was enough to have her blushing scarlet again. It'd been well over a decade since she last saw a man — boy? — in any state of undress, and they were her brothers. Verity had even kept her eyes from her attacker last fall, choosing instead to keep her eyes screwed shut tight or up towards the ceiling.
She tugged harder at her back, desperately trying to loosen the first knot. "I - uhm - it's just stuck." She explained. "I can't seem to untie it."
There was an anxious note in her voice, Everett noted. "I'm coming over to help." He said gently as if he were approaching a scared animal, and slid back out from the covers. Looking at her, her face was red and there was that look on her face she got every so often when something that should have been normal but made her nervous came up.
With slow and deliberate movements, Everett stepped behind her, watching her fingers desperately clawing at the laces. "I'm going to unlace you." He warned gently before he moved her hands out of the way and set to work on the knot.
Sylvie was in the next room, Verity reminded herself again as he came to stand behind her. Of all the opportunities Everett had had to commit a heinous crime, now was hardly the one to take. Even if he did, she could reach her wand before he would reach his. Everett was kind, loving even. He wouldn't have married her to spare her the shame of the fall if he didn't care for her in some way.
This was fine.
"I'm sorry." Verity whispered. Whether she was apologizing for inconveniencing him or for how bizarrely she was acting, she didn't know. Still, it had to be said. "And thank you, for the help. It's been awhile since I last had to do it myself."
Everett had expected her to stiffen at his touch, but to her credit she didn't pull away or stiffen or anything else. Instead she stood there and apologized.
He let her speak as his fingers worked their way down her laces. "It's quite alright." Everett assured her. A moment lager he was done.
"There you go." Everett stepped back from her dress laces were finished. "Do you need help with the rest?" He found himself asking.
Her dress was only the first in a long list of layers she had on despite the summer heat, though, thankfully, most of those she could unlace from the front or they were tied more loosely than her dress was. Hopefully, she could manage the rest with little to no struggle. If she couldn't, well ... it wouldn't be the first time she slept without getting fully changed.
"I should be okay." Verity replied after turning to face him. They were suddenly closer than they'd been even on their wedding day, causing her to take a small step back to create more space between them. "Thank you, again. I didn't mean to make you get up."
As she turned to face him Everett realized they had never been this close before. He could see the various shades of brown in her eyes this close. Verity seemed to realize their proximity and backed away, narrowly missing the edge of the bed as she did so.
"It's alright." Everett realized as he said it that he meant it more than just a casual response to her. He wanted to help her, wanted her to realize she truly was alright around him. He doubted if she ever would, but he wished she would.
He should step away now, he knew that. Get back into bed and away from his wife, he was held there watching her for a beat longer than necessary. He cleared his throat. "It's really no problem if you'd like me to help." Did he mean with the clothes or in general?
Little by little Verity was beginning to truly believe she was safe with him. He'd purchased her a beautiful house (or one that would be beautiful once the renovations were complete), had taken her on a wonderful trip abroad with no conditions aside from enjoying it together (and that rather strange meeting with his business associates), and had even seemingly accepted without complaint that their marriage was to remain loveless. She was safe, protected even.
Verity looked at him fully for the first time since he began to undress and nodded once. "I'm still -" damaged, broken, possibly barren. She backed away from those thoughts almost instantly, already feeling too vulnerable tonight to approach him about anything meaningful. "Yes, it would be a great help. Thank you." At least until they got to her chemise, then she could shoo him away while she changed completely into her night dress.