Outfit

Liadán could not sleep. It was past one in the morning, and while she should be curled up in her satin sheets, having a peaceful, dreamless sleep- it wasn't happening. The last month had been stressful and agitating (to say the very least). She felt incredibly horrid about the letters she had sent Christian, and to top it all off, Tawse had been very difficult about letting her probe for information. You're not part of the WBA, I can't tell you anything seemed to be his only excuse. Eventually, sick of being denied (considering that no one ever told her no) Liadán had caved. She would be a part of anything he wanted, so long as he told her what she wanted to know.

What would posess her to do such a stupid thing? But she had found out part of what she wanted to know. And Tawse had been very successful in making her guilt ridden (who would have thought it, Liadán being guilt ridden over anything?). His snide comments about telling Christian to move on and his comments about that hideous ministry worker had been driving Liadán batty.

Christian was, in Liadán's opinion, hers. He had been her pet in school, and Liadán didn't like the idea of any other woman with her paws all over him. But why? Why should it matter? Liadán did not want to face the truth- the fact of the matter being that perhaps, just maybe, she was a little more fond of Christian Colburn than she let on. When she was in Hogwarts, she thought nothing of it. He was a boy that helped her, someone she helped in return. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. She had not realized, until afterward, she had truly enjoyed his company and that he was, indeed, a very nice young man.

Eventually she had given up. There was no way to avoid it, the confused feelings or the fact that she had lost enough sleep. Tawse wasn't the sort she would generally take advice from, but he was correct in insinuating it was time for her to talk to Christian about what had happened. Liadán couldn't keep worrying herself over it. For one thing, her constant worry had caused her to turn to comfort foods- and she had gained weight. The trip to the designer had proved that to be true, and since then she gained more. If she didn't manage to find a way to relax and quit eating her feelings, she was going to balloon up even more. That was not acceptable.

Crawling out of bed, Liadán wrapped a robe around her body and threw her hair up into a messy bun before apparating from her bedroom to Chris' door step. It wasn't safe, to apparate into a muggle area, but Liadán hoped that the hour would be on her side. Who would be lurking outside, in the dark, so late at night? Reaching up, she knocked on his door- loudly, and hugged her arms around her. Foresight was not her strong point. It was cold outside, and her pajamas and thin silk robe did nothing to shield her from the cold. "You open this door right now, Christian Colburn!" she yelled, not caring about the neighbors. If anyone saw her, they would assume it was a lover's quarrel- and Liadán would let them think that. Living amongst muggles. Disgusting. Who gave a damn what they thought, anyway?

Chris was having no trouble sleeping.  For all the time he spent making fun of Aurors for their worthlessness he had to hand it to them.  They sure did work a lot.  Chris had never been one to shirk work, he was a Ravenclaw after all, but it wasn't until he was in the throws of training that he realized how ... leisurely ... things were when working for Cinaed.  Luckily, his couple of months at the Ministry before being taken on by the Auror office had helped shift his internal clock to a more diurnal one, rather than the more nocturnal clock Cinaed preferred. 

The day had been a long boring one with hours hunched over pages and pages of departmental protocols, operational memoranda procedures and how-to-fill-out-paperwork tutorials.  He was currently knee deep in what was bound to be the tedium of the job and he had had plenty of practice laid out in front of him.  Being the low man on the totem pole, the brunt of the paperwork from the Hogwarts investigation had landed on his shoulders.  Not that he really minded; that sort of tedium rarely bothered him and it gave him the perfect opportunity to tuck a few notes away for Cinaed's records on the matter.  Why the man cared was beyond Chris - as far as Chris was concern, Blake was a complete non-threat. 

After an entirely unexciting trip home and an equally unexciting dinner (kidney pie and a salad), Christian had watched the evening news before bathing and slipping into bed.  For all intents and purposes, the night should have continued undisturbed and unexciting. 

The unexciting pattern broke about the time a loud knock echoed through the dark apartment.  He threw himself out of his bed, tugging a shirt over his head as he hurried to the door, his first assumption being that the disturbance was work related.  Some Auror emergency.  He was halfway to the door when the familiar voice yelled through the wood.  Christian hesitated, not sure he was interested with another round of 'sorry, you're just not good enough' at this hour.  But, he knew Liadan all too well.  She wasn't going to stop knocking on her own.  Chris tugged the door open and stepped aside doing what he could to encourage the woman in the house as quickly as possible. 

"Right away," he said, quietly, taking a moment to close the door behind her.  "What can I help you with?"  What have I done wrong this time? was the question he was more inclined to ask.  He was wise enough to know that wasn't the best approach to take.

There really wasn't anything that Christian could help Liadán with, unless he could build a time machine and let her rewind everything so that she wouldn't find herself in the current situation. The idea of having to actually be honest about feelings made her skin crawl. Liadán had built her entire reputation off the premise that she didn't have feelings, and that she lacked both heart and soul. This was not the way in which she had intended to prove that theory wrong.

"Thank you, Christian," she told him, coming in when he opened the door. Liadán gave his sleeping attire a quick once over before settling herself onto his couch. She tucked her knees beneath her, carefully arranging the robe so as not to expose anything to the man. He probably wasn't happy about her showing up at such an ungodly hour, and then her showing up and teasing him by flashing something he didn't need to see (however accidentally) would likely only make things worse. "I'm sorry, to bother you so late. I know it's incredibly rude for me to just show up at this time of night, demanding entrance, especially given..."

Liadán trailed off then, dropping her gaze to her lap, where she was twisting the silky fabric of her robe. It wasn't like her to show weakness or insecurity, but at the moment that was exactly how she felt. No matter how hard she tried, it wasn't easy to shake the beliefs and ideals that she had been raised on. Christian was a good man, they got along, and they believed in the same things. But he wasn't pure. Though it was by no fault of his own, it was a very difficult fact to swallow. He was a half-blood, and she had... these things called feelings for him. Feelings which had not only distracted her from pursuing Sergei Morozov, but had also caused her to find herself turning to Tawse for help and advice. What sane person did that?

"Well, considering the horrible way I treated you." That was the only way to word it. It had been horrible, and Liadán had known it at the time. But after letting him know she had dressed up, and been made miserable because of him, Liadán had to do something about it. Apparently, the problem was, that she did not do the right thing. If there was a "right" thing. Morality never had been Liadán's strong suit. But at least she had admitted she was... well, not necessarily wrong, but she had acknowledged that it wasn't very nice. Hopefully that would constitute as the same thing.

"I promise this is very important, Christian. And... It's just going to take a few minutes for me to say what it is that I need to say. It's not easy for me to... do things like this." In fact, Liadán could not remember the last time she made any sort of genuine, heart felt apology. It might not be far from the truth to venture that she never had. "And even though I am fully aware that I am likely the last person you want to see, and that you are probably very disinclined to hear what it is I need to say, it's very important you show me some patience and compassion while I try to figure out exactly how to go about this." Liadán had thought she was ready. She'd been rehearsing what she wanted to say, but now that she was here, it wasn't quite as easy. "I'm guessing that the best way to start everything out, is to say... that I'm sorry."

What the hell was it about this woman?  Cinaed was right about one thing: she was going to drive him crazy.  For years she'd casually toyed with him - probably entirely unintentionally, he'd convinced himself.  Five years he'd waited in vain, hoping for a woman that would never have him.  She was straight-edged, proud and unquestionably attractive.  With blood as pure as any he'd find.  Which, of course, was his own downfall.  The generations of purebloodedness in the Ashwin line was as worthless to him as a melted galleon - his father, Eric Ashwin, had robbed him of any pureblooded claim the day he eloped with a muggle and changed his name.  To this day, neither Eric Colburn nor his wife had any clue of the resentment and bitterness their son held. 

Move on, give up, just go find some young, naive halfblood tail to chase and enjoy yourself.  For years, Christian had endured the hairy ex-con's colorful advice.  He'd even gone as far one day as to try to convince Chris that he ought to do so for Mannie's sake.  It's like sitting on a bench with a bag full of gold next to a homeless man without a knut to his name and complaining that you were too frugal to spend seven sickles to buy yourself a firewhiskey. To be as young and non-hideous looking as he was (compared to the likes of Mannie), it was too cruel to the older ex-con to not use what he had. 

But, Christian had never moved on.  And, not a breadth of complaint or contradiction left his lips as he held his door open for the woman.  "It's not a bother," he offered with full graciousness.  He leaned against the edge of the open door.  As she walked through his flat towards the couch, her back to him, he took the opportunity to watch her, trying to decipher in her posture or gait the reason for the late hour, emergency visit.  He was careful to make sure he was dutifully occupied by the time she reached the couch and turned back in his direction. 

"Can I get you some tea?  Or wine?"  He offered.  What beverage was appropriate to offer at ... whatever time it was?  He had yet to look at a clock. 

"Well, considering the horrible way I treated you."

As he crossed the room to the kitchen, he waved his hand dismissively.  His mind had already worked through and come to terms with those awkward letters.  She'd been misleading and, as Cinaed had put it, exceedingly cruel but he'd also been blinded by stupid optimism and out of line.  "I'd been inappropriate as well.  There's really no need to worry; I'm as much at fault as you are."  He paused in the kitchen and glanced back at Liadan, the surprised etched plainly across his newly-awakened features.  "Is that why you're here?  Worrying about that?"  That seemed exceedingly un-Liadan like.

Then, Liadan got on one of her usual rolls and Christian knew better than to interrupt.  Even when habit made him feel compelled to ensure her she wasn't the last person he wanted to see nor to reiterate that this really wasn't necessary.  He didn't hesitate to show her all the patience and compassion she might have expected.  "Alright," he said, after she'd grown quiet.  Couldn't she have said that in a letter?  Or, at least, let it wait until morning?  "I'm ... of course, apology accepted.  After all, I owe you one myself.  I was inappropriate."

"But the thing is that you weren't inappropriate. I was baiting you. If a woman tells you she dressed just for you on Halloween, and then tells you that she can't enjoy the company of a man she's been chasing for close to a year because you snubbed her, that's ample reason to assume that there is something going on and to prompt you to admit things you might otherwise have kept to yourself. It's not often I'm feeling selfless or inclined to take the blame, Christian, but this is one of those times, and I think..." She took a deep breath, and focused her gaze on him. "I think that I need to be wrong this time."

Because she was wrong, and she knew that she was wrong. It was unfair to play with him like a toy on a string. The cat and mouse game was pathetic, and it wasn't fair to him. Liadán knew that, and she had many of the same comments as Cin had- suggesting he find other women, even offering to help him look. Yet, the second he turned up with a woman on his arm that wasn't her, it had driven her mad with jealousy. Chris was hers. If she had been willing to go fight Tawse to ensure his safety, she was able to do anything it took to fix this. Right?

"And that's only part of why I'm here. It's the basis, I suppose. If it weren't for that exchange, then this exchange would not be happening. I've been wrought with guilt for the last month, Christian. Me, feeling guilty. Do you have any idea how unsettling that was? Not only how unsettling, but exactly how hard it was to cope with? No doubt you know by now I turned to Tawse for advice on what to do. I've basically been haunting his little pub, badgering him about you..."

She trailed off, making a face. Liadán generally had no problem with Tawse. Apart from his inclination to push her buttons, she enjoyed his company and often times even found him charming. He'd been unwilling to part with any information about Christian until he had his own way, and even then what little he had given her had not seemed worth it.

"Do you know what all this guilt has done to me?" she asked him. "I've gained weight, for one thing. I've gone up almost a half size because I've been so worried about the way that I treated you. I didn't want to hurt your feelings, or hurt you. Despite the way it seems, the way I present myself, I do..." She had to say it, didn't she? Liadán felt her chest tighten as she closed her eyes. "I do care about you." There, it was out.

Apparently, at this hour, nothing was the beverage of choice.  With a slight (and well hidden) sigh, Christian moved out from behind the kitchenette counter and leaned against the other side as he gave the woman opposite him his full attention. 

It was an awkward, tricky situation.  Everything Liadán was saying was true though, normally Chris would never have admitted such.  The things she'd told him in the letter had been provocative and he'd taken them as an invitation to take up the pursuit.  He knew full well he would never have imagined seeing any flirting in the woman's words if they weren't there quite blatantly.  He knew better than that.  But, he had seen it - he'd responded - she was here apologizing.  She was demanding he give her the opportunity to fully apologize.  It was just so unlike how things were supposed to go, Chris was having to improvise more than he was comfortable doing. 

He let her say her piece and remained quiet throughout, again.  When she finally grew quiet again, he couldn't help but stand in complete silence for several moments.  She cared about him.  Those words ... on some level, he'd spent years dreaming of hearing those words.  However, of course, the context had often been different - their meaning had been different.  It was impossible to tell by that exactly what she meant?  And, in what manner she cared about him?  Friend?  Brother?  Here, again, like the letters, it was far too easy to read way too into the comment.  And far too tempting to come to the wrong conclusion.  It felt like he was treading on very thin ice.  It was a Japanese game show - he was facing three doors.  Two led to something painful; one led to a fantasitc prize. 

Knowing he had to say something, Chris took a deep breath and tried to sort his thoughts. 

"I've cared about you as well.  I suspect you know that," he admitted, watching her.  Somehow, he couldn't imagine she hadn't noticed.  He always assumed she had but that she just opted not to notice.  "But, I've been well aware of the complications.  Of my shortcomings.  I'm well aware of what that means.  I'm sure you could guess but, I don't have any inappropriate or unreasonable expectations." 

This was all said, of course, under the assumption that that was Liadán's expectations.  That this was all being said to clear Liadán's conscience and alleviate her guilt. 

Liadán sighed quietly, dropping her gaze to her lap. She had known that Christian thought of her as more than a friend. She had also known that he knew better than to try, and as such she had gone on pretending it wasn't so. While they were in Hogwarts, it was no big deal. She didn't show any interest in anyone while they were in school. She wasn't there for that reason, and was still under the assumption her parents were going to arrange a marriage for her. Then they had died, and she was left to fend for herself.

So she had done what she thought was right- she feigned interest in good looking men of the proper heritage. She had chased after Sergei as her friends had done, and just a week ago she had gone on a double date with him, his brother, and Melanthe. Gregory was an equally breath taking specimen of pureblooded man. But she hadn't been interested genuinely in him. He didn't seem to understand or appreciate the fact that she was quiet, and mild mannered. Liadán needed someone who complimented that fact well, and wouldn't put her out of her comfort zone. If only Christian were a pureblood, then things would be perfect.­­

He seemed to know that, too. The way he talked about his short comings, that he had no expectations. Liadán knew that he did. And this was not what she wanted to hear. Liadán didn't want Christian to give up so easily. She frowned, looking at him again. It was wrong of her to expect him to fight for her, when she had told him that it would never happen and to give up. But she hadn't really expected him to. Liadán had never been pursued by anyone, and it would nice, for once, to be chased.

"I know what I said, Christian. And I will not lie, it does bother me that you're not a pureblood. You know how I was raised. Always my mother, my father, my family have set the expectations of what I am to be. I am to marry the right man, and have perfect little children. I want that future. Contrary to popular belief, I am capable of feeling. And it isn't easy to ignore a belief that has been drilled into your skull since you were a child. Regardless of the circumstances or my inclination to make an exception."

"But seeing you, at that party, with that ministry whore, made me jealous. Because, as ridiculous as it sounds, and as much as it might offend you, I have always felt as though I've some sort of claim on you. An entitlement. It bothered me to find out you were Tawse's puppet, because I have always had you as my puppet. It sounds cruel, I know, but if I'm feeling honest, I'm not going to sugar coat things. The fact of the matter remains that I do not want some other woman pawing you, or someone else bossing you around. You're better than her, and you're better than Tawse."

She was still not coming out with it, exactly saying what she wanted to say, telling Christian exactly in what way she cared about him. It was easier to talk about everything else, the circumstances, and all other feelings than those exact ones.

It took an immense amount of effort to will his eyes to remain stationary underneath the short-cropped head of hair.  The urge to roll them was almost painful.  Why was she here, in the middle of the night, reminding him of all those little things that were, frankly, quite obvious?  Sure, the words had never been presented so succinctly.  For years, they'd danced around them, finding polite ways to not point out what they both knew they were pointing out.  He knew all that - she knew all that - he had to be at the office early tomorrow to finish that paperwork. 

But, in the midst of her reminding him of the very shortcomings he'd pointed out himself (why - oh why were the doing this, again?) a cluster of words stood out.  Regardless of the circumstances or my inclination to make an exception.  Still leaning against the edge of the counter, Chris' eyes lifted to meet Liadan's as he tried, desperately, to understand what she meant by that.  Exception.  And, what was he supposed to take from 'the inclination to make an exception.' 

"Tabitha's a nice girl," Chris offered, carefully.  Chances were, starting off with her name wasn't the way to go but there just wasn't anything there to be jealous of.  "I took her because it'd look good at the Ministry.  In addition, she's the front desk in the werewolf division.  Information from is useful to Cinaed.  Taking her was strategy.  Nothing more."

Christian ran his fingers through his short cropped hair.  There was no shortage to the number of times he'd thought about this very situation - whether it would happen; what he would think if it did; what he would do.  In the privacy of his quiet flat, it had always seemed easy to know exactly what to do in those instances.  Of course, there were no ramifications if he did the wrong thing.  Now, facing her, he knew what he he always did in those fantasies and knew what he wanted to do (which, coincidentally, were the same thing) but he was so uncertain. 

He wanted to ask her what she wanted him to do - to have her just tell him what he was supposed to do.  But, he could hear Cinaed's voice in the back of his head chiding him.  You've got to step up to the plate.  The lion that waits for the lioness to come to him's going to die a lonely, lonely cat.  You only live once - gotta take a risk.  Better to die young at the hands of a beautiful witch your chasing than to die an old man after a lifetime of regretting a missed chance.  Which was probably why Chris would be amazed if Cinaed saw his fortieth birthday. 

Chris pushed himself off the counter and crossed the room to lower himself on the couch next to Liadan.  "I'm not Cinaed's puppet.  I'm - he may actually be able to make this WBA thing work.  And, if he can - a lot of good could come from it.  He never really intended on taking the lead ... it just ... happened.  I'm just doing my part because there aren't many who can.  Not in our circle at least."  Chris watched the woman next to him a moment.  He reached a hand out to brush her cheek, lightly, a slight smile tugging the corners of his mouth.  With a slight chuckle, he added.  "If it were just up to me, you'd be the only one I'd let paw over me.  But, it's not."

Liadán turned on the couch to face Christian when he sat down next to her, tugging the hair band from her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders. She took it in her hands, twisting it awkwardly, incapable of resisting the smile that happened when he said he would let her paw over him. She wouldn't, naturally. Liadán had never allowed any man to paw at her, and she had never pawed at any man in return. "I..." She didn't really now what to say.

Both of them had to be aware of why she was here. Why else would she be at his house at such an ungodly hour in her nightie and a robe? She began to run fingers through her hair, tugging out little tangles to distract herself for a few moments. Anything, really, to put it off. Never was Liadán incapable of finding her spine, until now. She was always able to reach out, and take whatever she wanted. Ins chool she did it, in life she did it, and never had she worried about the consequences. Liadán always got what she wanted, it was a plain and simple fact of life.

She finally pulled her hands from her hair, throwing it behind her shoulders and reached out, gently taking Christian's hands in her own. She ran her thumbs across the backs of them, sighing quietly. "You can't imagine, Christian, how difficult all of this is for me. And I can't even explain why it is. I'm not a person who is afraid of anything. I always take the erumpent by the horn and I never take no for an answer. Never." Instead of looking at his face, she kept her eyes glued on their hands. It was easier that way. Eyes held too much in them, and she couldn't look at his.

"You are so proud to be who you are, Christian. You have no doubts about what you stand for, and why you believe the things that you do. You've the courage to put yourself in this precarious situation, to fight for those of us who are too afraid to fight for ourselves." Liadán was one of those people who tried not to rock the boat. It was easier to walk on eggshells than it was to take on the government. Besides, she liked sitting in her cushy estate making money from the family business, and not having to worry too much about any interference.

"And it is up to you, isn't it? You don't have to paw at someone you don't want to paw at. And if you are going to be pawing at me, then you sure as hell won't be pawing at other women. I won't tolerate it." Her face lit up when she suggested he could paw at her. It was an embarassing admission, but one that apparently was necessary given the current circumstances. Without some encouragement on her part, she couldn't expect anything to happen. Not that she really meant to let him "paw" at her, not in the technical definition of the term. This was all metaphorical. To an extent. Mostly because Liadán highly doubted that Christian even had the guts to try to paw at her.

The Liadan most people faced was confident, quiet and reserved.  The essence of a well-bred and well-raised lady.  Not weak, of course.  Those who jumped to that confusion based solely on first observations were usually quickly (and fully) proven wrong.  It was a rare occurrence to find the woman who shifted on the couch to face Chris struggling to find words. 

The obvious vulnerability was, simultaneously, unnerving and endearing. 

In stark contrast to the woman's fidgeting uncertainty, Chris leaned his side against the back of the couch.  With one arm hooked over the back of the couch he was able to turn, partially, towards the woman.  He shared little of her unease and uncertainty.  He knew what he wanted and he knew what the stakes were.  If love was a poker game, Liadan was playing the risky hand.  From where he sat, Christian knew he only stood to gain.  The only thing of value he risked loosing was something he simply didn't have to begin with. 

Surprise flickered, briefly, across Chris' features as her fingers closed around his hand but it was quickly replaced with a small smirk.  "No, I can't," he agreed without hesitation.  He couldn't and wouldn't even try to put himself in her shoes - or slippers - right now.  "But, I think I've got some idea about why and I think we both know."  He'd been acquaintances and, eventually, friends with the woman sitting next to him since Hogwarts.  He'd accepted, years ago, that his blood status eliminated, rightfully so, any chances on his part for any long term relationship with Liadan.  Cinaed had been trying for several years to convince Chris otherwise.

"Proud?" Chris repeated, with a shake of his head.  Was that really how she saw him?  "I'm not as proud as you think," he admitted. "I do what I can - I try to contribute where I can but that doesn't change the fact that I'm impure."  Tainted.  Hundreds of years of purity on one side - wasted for his father's stupidity.  "For once, with what I'm doing now, my impurity is an advantage.  It's not courage, it's just logical." 

The surprise in his features was far more profound when he stared at Liadan, her last words cycling over and over in his head.  It was up to him.  If he was going to be pawing at her, he wouldn't be pawing at other women.  Had he heard her correctly?  Could he, somehow, be misinterpreting?  If it weren't for the obvious shift in her expression, he might have assumed he had misheard.  "I'd have no reason to paw at other women if I were with you.  If ... that's what you're offering." He added, just to be sure.

"I... am not sure what I am offering," she confessed slowly. It was the truth. Liadan did not want Christian with other women- that was fact. Whether or not she was ready to have any sort of relationship with Christian was another matter entirely. Her parents were dead, she was not close with her family, and as such she was far more free to make her own decisions. "I am not certain what the best course of action is, Christian. Your current employers would likely not be very pleased if they discovered any sort of relationship between the two of us. I understand your work there is important, and I do not want to be the reason that it falters." It was one very valid excuse that might help her put off making a final decision.

Liadan released his hands to go about twisting her hair and putting it back up, so that she could carefully choose her next words. "I am trying, right now, to not make this about your bloodline, Christian. I want to focus on the other facts." Stoicism was Liadan's strongsuit, and it seemed that now she had made some slight emotional progress that she was going to revert back to it. It was easier to pretend to be unaffected. Much easier.

"This is difficult for reasons other than that. I have never... been in any sort of relationship. So I don't know how they work, or if that is what I want. What I do know, Christian, is that I do not like the idea of any other woman being the object of your affections. I don't want other women touching you, looking at you, or thinking that they even have a chance with you. I admit it makes me jealous. I don't even like Cinaed having any control over you..."

Cinaed. What a horrid man, yet Liadan could not help but to admit that he was right about a lot of things. He was wiser than many gave him credit for, or perhaps his charm just made him seem that way. "But he is a good friend to you. And it is not fair for me to string you along, which is what I feel like I have been doing. Not wanting you, but not wanting anyone else to have you either isn't fair... I just don't know how."

"I'm not sure what I am ready for, Christian. I know that I do care about you- I think of you as more than a friend. I like knowing that you think the same of me. I just..." she sighed and looked down again, fighting the urge to groan loudly. Why was this so damned difficult? "I do not know where it goes from here, what steps to take next, because I'm not sure how these things go." And she wasn't sure she could last long in a relationship with a halfblood. Every part of her yelled against it. It was WRONG! He was a halfblood! "I feel ridiculous," she confessed. "I feel as though I am over analyzing and over dramatizing this entire situation..."