Oscar Whitman tended to dislike Christmas time. It equated to family time in the Whitman home and he wasn't particularly fond of most of the people in his family. Sure, they shared blood with him, but more often than not, stuffing that many conceited, ambitious or successful purebloods in one place at one time--even a place as gargantuan as Ceinwein Plas--was often unbearable.

Of course, Oz's mood had been soured of the holiday season long ago when his marriage to Aileen had failed. He had hoped that his contribution to family gatherings would include a happy marriage (which was all relative in the pureblood world), beautiful children to carry on the Whitman name, and a successful career. So far, he only had the last one down pat, as he recently secured a seat on the Wizengamot. And he would continue moving up the pecking order if he had anything to say or do about it.

At least Oz had had it. The potential for a perfect life. And he was confident that he would have it again. Only now he was pickier and hand no plans to settle for less.
 
Reflecting back on his marriage, Oz truly believed that he had loved Aileen, as delusional as that notion was for a pureblooded marriage. He had been prepared to dote on her night and day and do whatever would have made her happy. Clearly, that had not been enough. Women like Aileen craved more. What exactly still baffled him even now. Was it more adventure that would take her away from home? Or maybe it was more variety in men that she had not been able to experience before settling down. Those capable of charming her out of her pants in her beloved runic languages.
 
Irritably, Oz wondered what had the man she had cheated on him with had given her that he had been incapable of? Drawing the runic alphabet on her naked flesh with his tongue? He silently scoffed at that. Of course he could have done that, even with his lack of interest in the subject. He could have faked it admirably.

As Oz walked through the festively decorated home, drink in hand, he tried to keep a smile on his face. He was doing well enough until he spotted something that drew an unhappy scowl from him.

Myrni Levartian.

Oz could not believe that his only brother, Nathan, was going to be happy with her. For one, she was a muggleborn. That distinction offered no enhancement to the Whitman line. She could be the most gorgeous and talented woman on the planet and it wouldn't have made a difference. She was less and always would be. Her purity and lack of culture would always be the topic for conversation. Even Oz's failed marriage had at least offered his dear mother some shred of happiness while it lasted. Some shred of hope that she would get a leg up on longtime rival, Sarah.

And now this woman was going to ruin the Whitman name forever. Nathan might be willing to overlook it, but Oscar wasn't.

Spotting his brother's fiancee in a rare moment on her own, Oz made his way over to where she was making herself a plate of food. Glancing around, Oz's expression became smug as he immediately realized that she was now essentially cornered. She would not be able to leave without first hearing all that he had to say to her, which was never pleasant.

"Haven't you grown tired of being someplace you're not wanted?"

Myrni Levartian did not consider herself to be a wallflower in most of her social interactions. She actually enjoyed meeting new people and getting to know them. And since she was a genuinely nice person, she often got along with practically anyone. But her presence at the Whitman holiday dinner was enough to diminish her confidence in the role of a social butterfly. The combination of the location filled with wizarding history and the company of pureblooded elite kept her from feeling comfortable.

When she was younger and a student at  Hogwarts, she had attended a few parties at the mansion, but she had not been dating Nathan at the time. There had been less of stigma then, but even an observant Myrni was able to pick up on their discerning eye. Back then, the likes of Sylvia Whitman and Nathan's brother, Oscar, had made little effort to hide the fact that they did not feel a person of Myrni's breeding was a suitable friend for Nathan, let alone a potential romantic interest.

Though she had eventually given in to Nathan's pursuit of her, dealing with the extreme dislike from his family had been enough for her to walk away from the relationship once before, uncertain if she had it in her to endure such negativity and prejudice for the rest of her life, no matter how much she might like the man she was romantically linked to.

The distance between herself and Nathan (and ultimately his family) had done their relationship well. In the time she had spent overseas, she kept in contact with him and on the occasion that she visited England or he visited the States, they did meet up. It had always been clear to Myrni that there were sparks between them which were hard to pass off completely. He was an intimidatingly handsome man and he, like her, was adventurous and independent. They shared similar views of the world and had often spent hours just laying in each other's arms talking into the wee hours of the night.

Roughly around 2005, Nathan began to make more frequent trips to the states to see her, even though he was working diligently in the Auror office. He was a hard worker in his profession, even if he never fished for responsibility or higher position.

But clearly he was feeling the need to settle down. And he proved he was willing to pursue her in order to achieve it. Myrni still balked at the idea of them together. She worried about his family. She worried about what others would think of her marrying one of pureblood society's most eligible bachelors. And she worried about her freedom. She never worried about how much she loved him. She just didn't know if that was enough.

Though she might not be able to put her finger on it because her mind was clouded with so many other thoughts, this was likely how Myrni still felt now about her relationship with Nathan and his family.

And so here she was now, at the ancestral home doing her best to be pleasant while still avoiding as many of the Whitmans as possible. She was  about to help herself to a plate of food before finding Nathan and a place to eat. She rarely sat alone or allowed herself to be left alone for long for the very situation that presented itself now.

Oscar Whitman materialized by her side almost immediately and the disdain that dripped from his expression as well as from his words was enough to make her cringe.

This was not the first time that her fiancee's brother had succeeded in cornering her and postulating his views on his family, the expectations of pureblooded society and the world at large. The first time he had done it, Myrni remembered her exact thinking: Who was this heartless man? And what had happened to make him this way?

She no longer needed to wonder. Myrni had a much broader scope of Oscar's life story and she had also spent more time with the nefarious Whitman clan. The whole lot of them were exhausting. But he was more so than most.

Myrni clenched her jaw at his biting words and at first was content to ignore him. She continued to fill her plate with food. But when it was clear that he was not going to leave her alone until she engaged him in conversation, albeit confrontational in nature, she set the plate on the table with a thud and set her hand on her hip.

"I am here because Nathan wants me to be," she said evenly. She looked him straight in his crystalline eyes, refusing to waver for a moment.

She had fight. He would give her that. Little Miss Myrni Levartian, current holder of the 'Dorothy Complex' in his book, was a fighter. Maybe it was spawned from the fact that her kind had to constantly struggle for equality in resources and opportunity, even though she would always be inferior. Even if she refused to see it, everyone else around her would know. And Oscar Whitman was the type to keep that information at the fore, constantly reminding everyone of how shameful and despicable it was for her to be even considered a plausible connection to his family.

Oscar's blue eyes blazed with a deeper hue and an angry color filled his face as he stepped closer to her. He snatched up a plate from the table and began to thump heaping spoonfuls of food onto it. When he finished, he pointed the spoon towards her and seethed, "He invited you here, I'm certain. And to that end I cannot do much. But do not think that you are welcome here, Myrni." He practically slammed the spoon back into the potatoes and leaned in closer still. "You may have my brother mesmerized by all of this--" He jerked his hand in a motion that indicated from her head to her toes. "But that is not enough to win the affections of this family."

Myrni stared, wide-eyed, at the adversary before her. It was not a reaction spawned from innocent surprise. Rather, it was one resulting from disgust.

The way that Oscar Whitman acted was almost barbaric. Myrni did not know how people with his line of thinking still existed and what was more, it baffled her how it was still perfectly acceptable in the wizarding community. People seemed to have no problem turning a blind eye to the prejudice that he spouted or, they passed it off in a laughing manner as if it were completely harmless.

Even some of his more decent family members were guilty of this and that included her soon-to-be husband. Or if they professed to dislike it, they did little to dissuade it. As far as Myrni was concerned, someone in his family should have the guts to stand up to it.

They might laugh it off, but Myrni Levartian was not going to do so.

In fact, for a woman who considered herself to be a pacifist and beyond the concept of hatred and violence, her eyes were now latched onto Oscar Whitman in such a violently hateful way. One thing was quite clear from that look: she absolutely, positively detested him.

"Someday, you'll have to accept that Nathan and I want to be together."

Inasmuch as Myrni regarded him with dislike in that moment, so too did Oscar in regards to her. Despite his feelings of abhorance at the mere thought of touching her mudblooded skin, Oscar swiftly closed any remaining distance between them and took hold of her arm. He jerked her closer to him so that their faces were inches apart. "Listen to me," he commanded with such a raspy forcefulness that it almost took notice away from his more painful grip on her arm. "That is NEVER going to be something that I will accept. Ever. You should never get your hopes up that my feelings--or those of most in this family--will change."

He paused, a smug smirk befalling his lips. "And if you've been talking to Julie--" The contempt with which he spoke the name of his cousin might be surprising for most people to hear, given how civil the Whitmans tended to be when the public was watching them. But the truth was that Oz regarded his cousin Julie almost as unfavorably as any muggle, for the simple fact that she had dared to do what his brother was doing now--love a muggle or halfblood. Oz continued on with his searing tirade, "--Who has been letting you believe that it will happen, let me save you some heartbreak."

Gripping her arm a little more harshly, Oscar finished with the declaration, "For as long as I am alive, it will never be okay for someone like you to become a Whitman. And I will do whatever I can to make sure that yours and Nathan's marriage will never come into fruition."