June 3rd, 1888 - Pettigrew Home, Bartonburg

But why do I feel this party's over?

Arthur's watch, which had once belonged to his father, told him it was past 2 o'clock A.M. That sounded about right. The bartender at the Three Broomsticks had told him to get out a little after 1, and after that Arthur wandered the village, sobering up. His head no longer thrummed with the alcohol, just a low buzz fading into a headache, and he was tired. A few years ago, this would have brought him to a friend's couch, or a bench. But now he was older. He was going to be a father. So he turned away from Padmore Park and started walking home as the post-midnight mist settled in fully. His hands were shoved deep in his trouser pockets as it started to drizzle. He sighed audibly as he turned onto the lower Bartonburg street his and Dezzie's little house - although he did not own it - was wedged upon.

He glanced again at his watch. 2:15, and nowhere to go. Dezzie's words were stuck on replay in his head, and he paused on the front step before pulling his house key out of his pocket. Arthur unlocked the door and stepped inside. He sighed again, as if that would make this feel any better, and locked the front door behind him.

He pushed open the door of their shared bedroom. Arthur toed his way out of his shoes and left them to the side of the door. He unbuttoned his sleeves and pushed them up, but sat down on his side of the mattress, shoulders hunched. "I came back," he said. It was obvious that he had come back, obvious that it was too late, obvious that he smelled faintly of whiskey and had been just a few steps from a proper bender. He didn't know how else to open this conversation, a conversation that had very much to do with the fear that started to plague him after their conversation.

She could leave me.

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set by MJ <3

Was it possible to feel alone when one was pregnant? If so, Desdemona Pettigrew was sure she felt more alone than she ever had before.

Guilt gnawed at her entrails, making her queasy as she lay in the dark, staring unseeing up at the ceiling above her bed. Dezzie was keenly aware of Arthur’s absence on the mattress beside her. Hesitantly, a hand reached out to rest on the bedspread: it was cool, though not as cool as she had been to him earlier.

Once she had gotten her head together enough to stand once more—and hastily dismiss their part-time housemaid for the evening—Desdemona had gone through the motions of a wife concerned for her husband. She had written letters that would never be sent, had sat in the parlour with an eye to the clock, and had ultimately gone to bed early for lack of a useful occupation. If she told anyone what had happened, Dezzie knew she would have to explain why, a truth she was not yet ready to tell. Besides, the spectre of guilt hung over her like a shroud, and the witch did not feel as though she was deserving of help, of reassurance.

She cried and, at some point, fell asleep.

Dezzie didn’t know what time it was when a stirring outside the door woke her, and she remained silent as a figure—presumably her husband, though to be frank, she had not expected to see him tonight or perhaps ever—moved gradually to sit on the other side of the bed. The smell of smoke and whiskey clung to him enough that she would have been certain of his presence even if he hadn’t spoken, but he had.

I came back.

It was a low bar to meet, admittedly, but the witch could not help but feel an overwhelming sense of relief that he had, that her tongue-lashing and the prospect of her quadroupling in size had not scared him off forever. She remained quiet for a long moment before scooting into a sitting position, undone curls pooling down around the shoulders of her nightdress.

“Are you well?” she asked softly, a question with seemingly infinite meanings in that moment.

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   Cassius Lestrange

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Arthur felt the mattress move as she sat up, but didn't move. He was scared to look at her, scared that if he moved from his slumped position the fragile atmosphere in the bedroom would shatter. He should have come home earlier. But his heart was pounding in his chest, a shadow of the panicked beat it had picked up when he left earlier. A part of him wished that he was still out, delaying this conversation. She could leave. She could yell at him again, too, and that was nearly as frightening.

"I love you," he said, which was like answering her question. The truth was that he didn't know - was not sure how to handle their conversation from earlier, was not sure how to handle anything. She ought to be the unwell one - she was the one who was pregnant, and didn't want to be, because it was his baby and he was going to be a terrible father. And because of Quidditch. He should have remembered that earlier.

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   Desdemona Pettigrew

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His words were immediately reassuring, but then…Desdemona thought she caught a hint of reluctance to them, as though they might be offered by rote. As though they might no longer be true. She shifted, now hugging her knees to her chest, almost too afraid to breathe lest she chase him away again.

He’s left once now, he’s got a taste for it. What’s to stop him leaving again?

The answer to that had to be Dezzie herself, a fact that made the witch at once both uncomfortable and insecure.

“I’m glad,” came her quiet response as she glanced at him, able to make out only his outline in the darkened bedroom. And she was glad that he loved her, for she loved him dearly, but that did not do anything to soothe her regarding the present predicament.

And loving her wasn’t the same as understanding her, as Arthur had proven earlier.

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Arthur shifted, pulling his legs up onto the bed and turning so that he faced the foot of it and could look at her properly. In the dark, he couldn't read her expression. "I'm sorry," he said, although he was not sure what he was apologizing for: impregnating her, marrying her, not understanding.

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set by MJ <3

As am I.

The words formed in her mind, on her tongue, but somehow did not leave her mouth. Instead, the best that Dezzie could do was nod mutely in the dark, keenly aware of how inadequate such an action was under the circumstances. She had quite literally said that her husband, the man she loved more than she loved even herself, was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. At the very least, such an awful slight deserved an apology, but the words continued to die on her lips.

“I didn’t want any of this—not so soon,” she was able to say after several long moments. It was not the apology she had hoped for, but perhaps if she could help him understand, make him understand, he would not hate her so much, and he would see how ardently she loved him in return.

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Arthur blew a breath out of his cheeks, nice and slow, as if that would help slow his pulse. It did, at least a little - or maybe it was the measured tone of Dezzie's voice, the gentle embrace of the darkness.

He still didn't know what to say to her. Instead Arthur reached clumsily for Dezzie's hand.

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set by MJ <3

Instinctively, Desdemona flinched as his hand made contact with her own, but she didn’t pull away. She had done and said enough already that day—she would overcome any small discomfort to mollify her husband now. Her returning grasp, though, was loose, as fragile as their relationship felt in that moment.

“You cannot leave again,” Dezzie said after several moments, voice more accusatory than she intended—or than she felt.

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Arthur nodded in the dark; aware that she might not be able to see, he said a beat later, "Yes." He wasn't going to leave again, or at least he did not intend to leave again. (He had not intended to leave in the first place.)

"I thought you didn't..." He had thought that she did not love him anymore, in the shock of being pregnant, but it was too terrible to say out loud, and he trailed off.

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set by MJ <3

Merlin, that sentence could end in so many ways—so many ways that she would rather it did not. Desdemona remained silent, both hopeful and afraid that he would finish it.

  

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Arthur exhaled in the silence. He pushed the remainder of the sentence out of his lungs after: "I thought you didn't want me to come back." It was the kinder version of the sentence, but it was by no means kind - a kindness would have been to pretend this episode had never happened at all.

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set by MJ <3

She looked at him as though he was a madman. Yes, she had said some harsh words, but to think she didn't want to see him again—did Arthur really believe she thought so little of their marriage?

"Don't be foolish," she answered softly, biting back further tears.

  

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Arthur was a touch-oriented person; his grip on Dezzie's hand was tenuous but felt like the only thing anchoring him. He had never been good at words. This was a words conversation, but he was not good at them, especially not when pulling them out of his chest felt like mining for a resource that did not exist.

"I'm not going to fuck this up," Arthur said. It felt like a lie as soon as he said it. "I'm going to - try not to. I promise."

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   Desdemona Pettigrew

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set by MJ <3

Try. It was not a word that held much promise, but Dezzie knew she could ask no more of him. She had known, for as long as she'd known him, that Arthur would not be the exemplary husband. Had fallen in love with him in spite of this, had married him in spite of this. For all his shortcomings, though, she genuinely believed that he had done his best throughout. She could not condemn him for being the man she knew him to be, and she should not punish him for it, however much it stung.

"I know you will," she said quietly, cheeks damp with tears invisible in the low light. "I know."

Cassius Lestrange

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   Arthur Pettigrew

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