December 25th, 1894 — 12 Grimmauld Place, London

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And then there were two. Ursula grimaced into her wine glass as she took a sip. Hopefully Elladora would be back, and sooner rather than later. In the meantime, it was just the two of them. That was fine, there was no need for them to interact, they'd probably only be alone for a few minutes at most anyway. She stared into the fireplace and tried to distract herself from the oppressive presence that was her husband. This was overall an unsuccessful endeavor. The silence only seemed to grow increasingly more suffocating as the minutes passed.

Finally, she broke. Today was tolerable. She really didn't feel like having any sort of conversation with Phineas, but she was sure if she'd let the silence stew any longer she would've screamed. She opened her mouth to make some vague comment about the children and presents and then decided she would sooner die than make such insipid smalltalk with her husband. How long are you staying for? She hadn't planned on sounding quite so blunt about it but she wasn't going to take it back either.

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Tolerable until now. Trust Ursula to have so little self-control as to ruin the peace mere minutes in. His wine was yet untouched on the side table; he had taken up a book but had scarcely found his page again before she had begun whinging.

He raised an eyebrow at her, relieved only that there was no one else to hear the insolent way she had spoken to him. “Three days and you already cannot tolerate me?” Phineas drawled, because she had certainly made it sound as though she meant to be rid of him as soon as possible. “I might remind you that this is my house.” He frowned at her – for if anyone were aligned with a guest who had overstayed their welcome, it was not him. “But if you have plans you suppose I will impede by being here,” Phineas added, acidly, “pray don’t let that stop you.” What did she mean to do with herself? Embark on another sordid affair?

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Like constellations imploding in the night
Everything is turning, everything is turning

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Despite the fact that she'd been unintentionally harsh, she didn't see that it justified the level of snottiness that came back at her. It filled her with such immediate helpless fury that she easily weep angry tears if she wasn't careful. As such, she felt incredibly defensive and absolutely no inclination to be anything at all resembling diplomatic. Three days and I ought to know by now how many more days my guest- sorry, husband, intends to stay, she snapped back. It was no reflection on how tolerable your company is, although I can now confirm it is significantly less tolerable than it was before. Ursula took an ample sip of her wine and doubled down on willing her sister-in-law back into the room. She could leave, but then why should she? It might be 'his house' but she spent more time there. As far as she was concerned 'his house' was Hogwarts.

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No reflection on how tolerable he was? “You might tell that to your tone,” he countered. Though Ursula’s instant aggravation at this only made him more secure in the conviction she could not wait to be rid of him again – she was trying to prod him into leaving.

Well: he could be just as perfectly intransigent, and see how she liked it. He would have to stay longer than he had planned. “Pupils return on the 4th,” Phineas declared – and while usually he would have gotten in several days of peace before they did, he might suffer to stay here instead. His lip curled, either at the thought of enduring that much time with her or at the generous gulp of wine she had just taken. “But if that is too long for you to bear my presence, you are at liberty to impose on a friend’s hospitality instead.” It would look dreadful, for her to flee her own family at Christmas – but then Ursula never deigned to make things easy.

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Like constellations imploding in the night
Everything is turning, everything is turning

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Was he implying that he intended to leave with the children and not before? How irregular, suspiciously so. She narrowed her eyes at him. Very thoughtful of you, but I shan't be going anywhere. If that disappoints you, you may want to reconsider your own plans. As she crisply delivered the last sentence, she felt a wave of unwelcome emotion that she was determined not to acknowledge and which immediately frustrated her for having been so easily provoked. An sudden realization came to her and quelled much of her emotional disturbance. If you are going to be here until the fourth, you shall have to accompany me to a dinner on the second. That would smoke him out.

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Every conversation they had seemed to fall to a stalemate – in what he supposed was a stalemate of a marriage.

He would have to lock himself in his study here as he did the Headmaster’s office at home Hogwarts to make it through to the end of the holidays, but Phineas had already resolved to endure it that way when Ursula mentioned a dinner. He didn’t ask her whose it was, because it didn’t matter in the slightest – he wasn’t going. Living in the same residence was one thing, but needlessly accompanying her to dinners?

“You mean to say you have not already sent the hosts my apologies?” Phineas challenged, cynically. He presumed Ursula leapt at the bit to return all her RSVPs without bothering to ask him to come, because she was so clearly glad when he wasn’t here. And if she had declined on his behalf, assuming he would not be here, well – evidently it would be rude to attend unexpectedly, and so he would be free to stay here in peace.

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Like constellations imploding in the night
Everything is turning, everything is turning

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In truth, she had already RSVP'd and had done so saying Phineas would likely be unable to make it. Even after all these years she was still reluctant to let on just how absent he was and how predictably so. Of course most people would be able to predict it for themselves at this point, but she didn't care to make it sound as though she too could expect her own husband, weeks in advance, to flee the family home as soon as he could. He didn't know how lucky he was that she still tried to publicly maintain the illusion that their marriage was anything but amicable.

I have not, though they will likely be surprised all the same. Not at surprised as she would be. She took another sip of her wine and wondered how, if he was to be home, that he could possibly excuse not accompanying her. Ursula suddenly frowned and looked down at her glass, disgusted to find it was empty.

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“And what do you expect me to gain from attending this dinner of yours, were I to?” Phineas asked, because if there was no objective other than socialising and merriment, he would rather feign illness, he thought. He was being intransigent for the mere sake of it, probably, because he was only half-paying attention to the conversation (– argument? –), and half-pretending to read his book.

He was not actually paying attention to the book, because he was too busy grimacing in distaste at how quickly she had polished off that wine. He sorely hoped she would not have another. He despised the propensity for overindulgence merely because it was a holiday.

(And he presumed the more glasses she drank, the less quiet she would be.)

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Her dinner! I expect our friends will be less likely to think you derelict of duty as a husband and gentleman of society if you attend. By now she was holding her empty glass out just far enough that it might look as though she was gesturing to him for a refill but not so blatantly as to be indecent. Especially if I arrive alone and am forced to mention that you're not yet back at Hogwarts, that would look rather like a snub. At this point she couldn't really bring herself to care, she'd attended more society events alone during their marriage than with him. One could only be sensitive about it for so long before the feeling scabbed over and scarred.

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“Me, derelict in my duties?” he scoffed. Duty was something he cared for... far more than Ursula did, at least; even if he did not so much mind snubbing people. Some people deserved to be snubbed.

But perhaps he should accept the invitation and endure an evening, just to prove his own superiority of character? To that end, Phineas made a grumbling noise in his throat that he supposed he would allow her to take as acquiescence.

What he would not allow her to do was become derelict of her remaining sense by imbibing any more in his presence, so he took the opportunity of confiscating her outstretched glass before she or a servant could do anything with it. Rather than pouring out more wine for her, he wordlessly performed a sort of anti-miracle, tapping his wand to the glass and refilling it with water before he proffered it back.

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Like constellations imploding in the night
Everything is turning, everything is turning

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Ursula was fairly certain she'd just won. The noise he'd made was as non-committal as one could get on the spectrum of agreement but if he disagreed he was hardly the type to stifle it. Unfortunately, she may now actually have to attend with him and as much as she might want to be seen in public with him, that was usually where the enjoyment of it ended. That was future Ursula's problem though, present Ursula would allow herself to be smug about it. After all, it was rare that she got her way with him.

Then, to her surprise, he took her empty. Was the festive season going to his head? This was even more shocking than winning an argument. Oh. Her hand automatically accepted the refilled glass back without her thinking about it. Of course he hadn't been doing something nice for her, what had she been thinking?! He couldn't let her win once without being a bastard about it, could he? She wasn't even intoxicated, who did he think he was?

Ursula rose to her feet. If Ella wanted to enjoy her company she'd have to find her in another part of the house because she was done here. As she stood, she noticed her legs felt as though she'd been hit by a jelly legs jinx that had now mostly worn off. Perhaps she was a little tipsy. Well, you're certainly derelict in your duties to me. On a sudden impulse, she thrust out her arm and upended her water onto his lap.

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“What don’t I give y—?” Phineas had begun to retort, at that remark; he did all that was required of a husband to a wife. And, Merlin, if Ursula were going to say something egregious about any lack of affection, well, the fault for that was entirely her own –

Only she did something still more egregious, and upended her refilled glass on his lap. He sprang up from his chair both in horror and humiliation (grateful only that at least it was water now, and not wine that would stain his clothes). Nevertheless, that was not an action he could tolerate. “How dare you,” Phineas hissed, affronted – and he might have kept his tone low in case anyone was nearby to overhear, but he grabbed at her forearm to keep her here and answerable, half-convinced she would swan right out of the room if he let her.

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Ursula couldn't stop herself from letting out a single cackle of laughter before clapping a hand over her mouth and merely smirking in amusement at what she'd done. It had certainly got a rise out of him, albeit not the kind that was likely to improve their marriage. Not that she wanted that, not from him, not anymore.

Although it had been a distressingly long time since anyone had... Her hand started to fall from her mouth and she looked down at her other arm to see his hand grasped around it. This was surely the most intimate he'd been with her in years! He was so put out, it was terribly amusing. It's not as though you were using it. You've probably forgotten how to - although you have to know something first to forget it. She laughed and the sound of it was sharp and rueful. She was probably going too far but wine had made her bold and he had made her bitter.

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At her cackling, his grip on her tightened in dismay. He ought to discipline her somehow – but unfortunately Ursula had never taken well once for the disciplining, and meanwhile Phineas was determined not to care enough about her to lose his temper, no matter how she mocked him. Or insinuated his impotence.

“Perhaps,” Phineas said stiffly, “you might find me more tempted by my wife, were she not always so – so cheap and whoreish and crude.” For that matter, he probably could have installed a halfpenny whore for his spouse all those years ago and found her better suited to the role of a gentleman’s wife than Ursula had proven. “I will wait for your apology.”

(If there was any disturbance in his trousers now, it was surely less to do with their closeness and her crudeness and more from the uncomfortable and ill-becoming damp patch with which she had blessed him. He wished he had dried it off first with a spell, but now that would mean letting go of her – and letting her get away with it.)

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Like constellations imploding in the night
Everything is turning, everything is turning

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Ursula's jaw clenched. Despite herself his words cut deep. She was determined not to let him know how much it affected her. For a horrific moment she felt the urge to brag how he didn't even know the half of what she'd gotten up to, just to humble him if only for a fleeting moment. Fortunately, she wasn't so lacking in her wits at present to know better. He might be amusingly shocked and horrified for a moment but it wasn't worth it for whatever consequences would follow.

That he thought she was going to apologize to him, however, was at least laughable. She wouldn't deign even to acknowledge it.

I'm sure I must seem so compared to a 900 year old castle. You'd prefer a nunnery to a nun, and you dare to suggest I'm the deficient one? She wasn't exactly sold on the theory that his sexual inclinations leaned towards buildings but she was almost convinced it was a more likely option than women. After all, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was nothing undesirable about her - if her reflection didn't prove it, she'd had it confirmed plenty enough by other men.

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She did not apologise – how low his expectations had been for her, and how effortlessly she managed not to even meet them – but Phineas’ raging resentment lessened to a more controlled simmering when she at least stopped smirking. He was standing too close to her not to have noticed how her lips had pursed slightly, how her jaw had tightened – but although she might be furious with him, Phineas rather thought she looked decidedly more dignified now. (And with that haughty dignity, it brought out all her best features again; those slate grey eyes, those full lips, her shapely eyebrows and nose and chin, the flawless arch of her neck...)

He released her forearm and let his hand and his gaze both fall away from her, only half-listening to her railing at him now. If he knew her less well, he could almost feign to himself that Ursula actually missed him, or was truly jealous of his commitments to the school over her. But the sad truth was she cared little for him in particular; no, he knew full well that all she cared about was whether she was being adequately smothered in attention at home, and whether she was admired by all outside it.

And the apology he wanted from her never would come, of course. His lip curled, more at himself for even bothering to ask her for so much as that. “I regret to inform you,” he said with a sigh, though of course this was an old, stale conversation, “that some of us do have other important duties in life for which we must divide our attentions. It is unfortunate that you, who has only ever had one,” (to him, as her present husband; even raising the children was hardly her absolute concern), “could not find the will to uphold it.”

It struck him that her constant baiting here might be all part of her ploy to make him to leave for Hogwarts sooner than he had just insinuated. Phineas was ashamed to admit it was working.

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