Tuesday
November 18, 2008
7:18 am

By this time of the year, seven am was still dark.  Chilly blue light filtered into Niobe Thursby's bedroom between the layers of brightly colored sarongs she used as curtains.  She rolled over to find her bra when she bumped into a big, fleshy lump.

She groaned.  She'd forgotten about Dominik.  She elbowed him in the side. 

"Out. I have work."

On Halloween, Niobe Thursby had made a very silly choice and had given into Dominik Wiedman's flattering affections.  His tousled dark hair, his dark eyebrows, his standing record as the Quidditch League's most violent player... it was all too much temptation.  And since Halloween, she'd been making bad decisions with him three or four nights a week.

She turned in the bed and pushed at him with both feet.  "Come on, Dom. Up.  Up up up!  Don't you need to be somewhere?  Don't you Falcons ever practice?"

Jarred out of sleep, . . . Dominik smiled lazily, his dark eyes opened a sliver to look upon Niobe and her endearing frenzy.  What the girl wouldn't do for a... productive day.  He grabbed hold of the cold feet pressing against his side, and gave them a good tickle.

"I don't need practice," he bragged, sleep still clinging to his deep voice.  "Owl in sick.  We'll have pancakes with... berries and... syrup."  Dominik yawned and cast his gaze at the window.  Groaning, he looked back at Niobe and pushed himself up.  "It's not even light yet, Niobids.  Aarrgh, come 'ere!"  He grabbed her in a bear hug and reoriented her position on the bed, playfully pinning her down.

It had been a good deal harder to get past the front door last night, but that he had was a testament to how much Niobe had missed him, right?  As strange as it was, they just belonged together.  They were made of the same stuff.  They were -- birds of a feather or, feathers of a bird or, however the saying went.  Why was he awake again?

"Is this your way of saying you're a morning person?  You're not really leaving now are you?  Why don't we just... play some more."

Niobe yelped with annoyance as Dominik tickled her feet then flopped her down again.  His heaviness had been cute last night, but now all he was was in her way. 

"This is my way of saying 'Out!', silly boy," she said with a frown, and then open-hand slapped him on his forehead.

"I have more exciting things to do today than mess around with you," she insisted rolling her eyes.  Gods, Dominik had been clingy lately.  She'd thought it had been pretty clear that they were not exclusive.  They were not dating each other.  They were not eating meals together, going places, or speaking to each other.  They were sleeping together and it was fun that way.  They were enjoying themselves.  Dom came over, they messed around and he left.  It really helped keep this all out of Maggie and Collette's business.  If they saw him hanging around their neighborhood, she'd catch hell from the other witches. 

They knew what she knew.  Dominik and Niobe were terrible for each other. 

"Cuffe is working on getting me an interview with Koujirou Nakamura.  Plus that Hogwarts student's going to trial.  Too good to miss, Dom."

She pushed him off with a look that said No. and stood up out of the bed.  She took her dreadlocks in handfuls, loosening them from the night's tangle, and separating them from one another. She shook them out and fluffled them up, in her common morning ritual.

"Oh don't look at me like that."

Dominik acquiesced to Niobe's pointed smack and push with a roll of his eyes, falling backward on the bed and subsequently bouncing a few times on his bum.  He stared at her then, his expression completely blank but for his big doe eyes.  Dominik just sat there stubbornly, watching the way that she fluffed her hair, interested, absorbed, his eyes making only subtle movements.

What was this creature with the sphinx's mane?  Some chemistry sparked even years afterward, after their past had dimmed; it spoke some volumes on their lust for limbs.  Like a hunger.  She'd been the spark that followed his fall into the shadow life, cursed and blessed at once, so that the idea of her became linked with his strange birth out of Hogwarts and the Dark Arts -- into fame, into debt to society, and into the irreversible morbidity that pulled him down from within.  She was like a guardian somewhat, yeah.  His little she-demon guardian with the lust for limbs.

But like most things that he couldn't pummel his way out of, Dominik wasn't ace at relationships.  He didn't add up to anything near perfect in their year-long romance. 

Dom suspected she did it all then because his was a right good story.  And now he was dark, he was rough, he was worth a good tumble, but he was nothing more than that -- nothing more than yesterday's news.

"Koujirou Nakamura," he said, his voice dripping with boredom at the thought.  "I remember when I was your catch of the morning, number one story....  How about that?  I'll give you an exclusive.  Answer anything."  He grinned cheekily, but still moved to the edge of the bed, obediently pulling on some clothing that had been -- unceremoniously tossed here and there the night before.  "Have you seen my -- shirt --"  He found it underneath her pillow.  Dominik looked side-long at her.

"At least stay for a cup of coffee.  Don't be heartless."  He muttered beneath his breath, "Weren't so heartless last night, luv."

Though the start of Winter was.  Heartless.  Empty is what it was.  Dominik was sick of his lot and his loneliness, walking the wet streets, playing hero or villain to a bunch of vacuous strangers.  Niobe was a breath of life -- he could get lost in her.  If only she'd let him.  Salazar knew he'd try.  Not even thinking of the pain he'd inevitably cause her -- being deficient.  Being naive enough to think that the two of them could ever complete each other. 

He walked over to her and nuzzled her cheek. 

"One cup of coffee, luv.  Unless you are... too scared."

Niobe had barked a laugh at Dom when he pined for those better days when she'd followed him around, her arm in his, both of them grinning defiantly for camaras flashing in their face.  And the resentment, the fights, her ego, his temper. 

She slipped on fresh underthings and then stepped into trousers.

"You're not scary, Dom," she assured him, not pulling away yet.  She petted his hair.

"You're stinky."  Now she walked away from him and trotted to the spiral staircase and down from the lofted bedding area.  Downstairs, she found a bell-sleeved tunic and pulled it on. 

"But let's talk about that, shall we?" she called back up to him in the open area of her single-chamber flat.  "Let's talk about that.  Let's talk about the press release when Augustus won that award.  What were you doing while I was trying to get you up on that podium so we could write you in as well? What were you doing when I was trying to make you famous?"

Her tone was chiding, quizzical.  Naturally, she was remembering the event differently than he would.  She, playing the part of loyal mate, nearly compromising herself for his career.  Him - well she'd make him say where he'd been and what he'd been doing.  But she needed to hear it as much as he needed to say it.  Dominik was the most tempting thing in her life.  He was night and day, making her feel like a queen, making her head swim with pleasure, and his exciting playfulness, his animal aggression, his - NO! He was a scoundrel, ruffian, thug.  And he nearly ruined everything.

At the little table, there was coffee ready.  And there were a few coffee cups on the stone counter. 

What little bit of a grin had started swiftly pulled away from him along with Niobe.  Dominik knotted his brow in confusion, watching her descend before lifting his arm to sniff his pit.  Ahh -- pungent, earthy old sweat, the result of more vigorous activity.  It was so frequent as to be Dom's signature scent.

She didn't like it?

Dominik leaned against the staircase, looking down upon her darkening demeanor with a true expression of aporia upon his face.

He refrained from answering her accusations at first, becoming a dozy lump as he plodded down the staircase, causing its spiral frame to creak and quiver beneath his weight.  It didn't matter because she just kept going on and on.  And what was she on about.  Well that was ages ago.  What had he... he'd been....  Dom's mind went blank:  A dose of denial.  His thoughts stopped one second short of acknowledging the fact that during their tryst (and well beyond into the now) he'd been drinking overtime, picking fights with hairy men, avoiding press calls, and not showing up all the time because he was passed out on the floor in his underwear with wads of parchment crumpled up all around him.

"Oh bollocks," said Dominik, remembering suddenly her penchant for harping on his past wrongs.  "I was already famous luv."  He took up the coffee pot and turned to face her as he poured into their cups.  "What -- you really wanna know?"  She'd been giving him a look as though she really wanted him to say.  Were they already having a lovers' quarrel?

"Fine.  I was pummeling that Tim O'Brien outside the front gate.  That what you really wanna know?  Breaking his face like a down n' out Muggle, all fists n' bones.  Yeah.  You could never take me as I am.  All that's trite luv.  I don't wanna be their poster child on the road to redemption."  He gave a heavy shrug of his shoulder and with a pained face said, "You knew what I was."

He jutted a full coffee cup out toward her, giving Niobe a look that said C'mon then, take it.  Take me as I am was the undertone.  Don't try and change me was the vibe.

"I'm an animal Niobe, you know it.  I thought you liked that."

Niobe listened to Dominik with an intentionally hurtful, unimpressed look.  As if to ask if she should be surprised that he was in a fight when he should have been in front of the reports and camaras.  He was already famous, but if he didn't keep getting in the paper, he'd have lost momentum.  And that would have been desperately boring. She'd thought he enjoyed riding that wave of attention as much as she did.  She, a white knight reporter having tamed a wizard no one else could handle. A man barely confined by laws or Quidditch rules.  They'd been dangerous. But he'd been a slob about all of it, forgetting that fame like that took work.  Nurturing.  And a headline every week.

She took the coffee he thrust at her, just after rolling her eyes.  She took it slowly, deliberately contrasting his forceful shove.

She put it down in front of herself, and then hoisted a booted foot onto the table next to it.  As she laced, "I do like it.  I like it when we go wild up on the loft.  But I'm not going to date an animal.  Certainly wouldn't marry an animal."

Thump, foot down.  Thump, other one up.

"Animals are good for one thing.  You knew what this was.  You want more than that, then man up and use your head."

Thump, foot down, then on her feet.  She slugged her cofffe.  In those seconds when her eyes closed to take a drink, she knew she needed to play this careful.  If she gave him too much affection, he'd take it as leave to keep pestering.  But on the other hand, the last thing she wanted was for him to sulk off permanantly.   She'd been getting a thrill out of their secret somersault contests.

"Otherwise, totter off.  I've got work."

 

Dom tuned in to the subtle way she took the cup, stilling him in an odd way while still managing to set him into an infuriating inner fire.  She was chiding him, looking incredible and playing the part of perfect specimen.  He just took the smallest sip he could off his coffee, with a jaw that was starting to tighten and tense, energy rising behind his rigidly still frame.  This was him controlling his emotions, holding it inside.  He was leaned heavily upon the back of a chair, hunched forward with one strong, hairy arm supporting his weight as he half-glared at Niobe in waiting for her next punch.
 
When she kicked her first boot up on the table, Dominik roughly pulled the chair out and sat himself down in it decidedly.  He draped himself over the table so that he was leaned across it with one arm, fist closed, the other also extended and wrapped around his still full coffee cup.

Dom spied a tattered notebook on the counter's top behind Niobe, and was instantly reminded of days gone past.  All the various she had toted around like faithful teddies.  Always jotting something down, always looking fervent, pouring over notes and papers.

It was bloody hot.

Use your head?  Now what was that supposed to mean.  Whatever it was, it was something.  Some grain of hope in achieving satisfaction, ending his frustration and gratifying his desire to have her in totality.  Told him there was something she wanted, and when he figured out what that was and provided it for her, she'd be satiated.  But their words about his animal nature only reinforced his deep-seated belief that he was incapable of change -- a belief that, reinforced time and again by the world, completely validated his next (inevitable) act of violence.

He believed suddenly that there was some mysterious and redeeming thing that he could do, but any notion of this having to do with himself or his behavior was readily missed.  His behavior, after all, was out of his control.  He had no say over what he did or didn't do.  It just happened.  And because of that aggressive instinct, he was highly rewarded by society -- with money, with fame, and with worship.  It easily balanced the more negative reactions he received from the temperamental public, at least giving him an identity to cling to in the face of repeated disasters.

Alright though, he thought.  He'd use his head.  If that's what she wanted -- She Who Must Be Obeyed! -- he'd use it, and that negated her "otherwise" and meant that he didn't have to totter off!  Defiantly, Dom took another minuscule sip off his coffee, set it down, and lounged back in his chair.

"Alright then," he said, looking at her side-long.  "Don't forget your notebook."

Dominik's rag doll posture belied his strength and heft, reminded her of what it was like to have that long heave arm draped over her stomach.  How docile and languid he was at this moment also belied his angry temper.  He was supple now, but he wasn't always.  His pleasure always came with pain.  He'd never hurt her, she stated hotly in her mind's voice - not like Cinaed.  But he was a destructive force all the same.

She was up and resentfully snatched up her notebook on the counter.  She didn't need his reminding and she felt that childish tinge that he might think she'd just obeyed him.  As she stowed it away in a bustled she raised her eyebrows again.  He wasn't getting up and he was barely touching the coffee, and that look on his face made her worry.  He didn't look at all spurned.  He looked somehow satisfied.  What the hell did he think she said that made him think she wasn't shuttling him off after using him for sex?

"You can't be intending to stay here," she said impatiently and flicking her hand.  "Up and out, Dominik.  Can't have you sulking about my flat."

If she left him here, surely he'd just still be here when she got home.  Perhaps having eaten all her Nutella and taking up her mail from the owl drop in his underwear.  And expecting more fun.

No, absolutely not.  They were not playing house, absolutely fecking not.  She rubbed her eyes with her thumb and finger and when she opened them after, she was not joking.

"Not taking the piss, Dom.  Out."

He was up so fast and with such force that his chair toppled over backward and the table shook.  He lurched at the pile of cloak laying on the floor and shrugged it on in a mean hurry, then took up his coffee cup and chugged it down in a single swallow.  He made a loud thump with it as he put it down, empty.  Each motion he made now was in pointed contrast to his prior stillness.  He was abuzz with angry movement, quick and strong and with an indignant determination.  It wasn't two seconds before the door was thrown open with Dominik on his way out, yet he stopped in the doorway momentarily to glare back at Niobe. 

"Have it your way, pet," he said grittily.  "I'll just see you when you have another itch, then."  He slammed the door behind him, careful not to let it hit him on the arse on his way out.

Inside him it was hurricane-force winds and dirty dust storms.  Loud-pitched and wailing.  All for naught.  All for naught!  Kite strings tripping over pointless Muggle power lines and tree branches tumbling down, umbrellas turning inside out and the harsh absence of a warm hearth.  What an insufferable woman!  What a cannibalistic, spiteful, nasty woman!  What a joyless woman!  What a prideful, what a cutting, what a --

What a woman.

What a woman.

As Dominik speed-walked down the street wearing a scowl of self-loathing with his hands plunged deep into the black wool pockets of his cloak, he again wondered what on earth she'd meant by use your head.  He had no idea where to start, but he was going to impress the bloody hell out of that woman if it was the last thing he did!  He was going to fix it.  He was going to have her Hope and her Notebooks back in his life.  Bloody hell right he was, with all her fervor, too.