Ficlet: Apologia
I was clearing things from hard drive when I found this. It's a rough little piece that I don't think needs a context or a "real" ending, whatever that is.
Title: Apologia
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Angelina Johnson/Montague, Angelina Johnson/Arthur Weasley
Rating: All
Summary: In her defense...
Apologia
“I’m not going to apologize if that’s what you’re waiting for.” Angelina didn’t smile at him when she said this, but she might as well have. Like a villain in a cheap novel, she lit a finely wrapped cigarillo, inhaled sharply, and exhaled a dense cloud of smoke.
Montague couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Were her words a goad or plain truth? He shouldn’t have had to ask such a question. When they were first married he’d repeatedly scolded her for displaying her emotions for all to see. It was an attempt to protect her from the less than approving relatives and friends, who made a point of shunning and insulting her, albeit politely. They took pleasure in her fits of emotion. It had become a contest between them to see who could upset Angelina the most.
Montague had considered the matter resolved when Angelina had finally managed to control herself. He had noticed her growing coldness, but refused to believe it would affect him. Control was only possible for Angelina in the company of others. The nature of their relationship would not permit indifference or even the illusion of it on both their parts.
Or so he’d believed.
Angelina was smiling now. A little knowing grin that told him she knew she’d tangled him up fine silken threads he couldn’t free himself from.
For a second time that day the world tilted off its axis for Montague. Seeing that smirk he was reminded of how Angelina had smiled earlier that day. Perched on the edge of the desk, she’d put on an expression of coyness, manufacturing a blush and a shy smile. It hadn’t been an act but a means of seduction. Angelina had continued to smile as she’d leaned forward to run her tongue along Arthur Weasley’s lips.
Discretion always at the fore, Montague’s first thought was to thank whoever had shuffled Weasley to the offices in the recesses of the Ministry. There were few people on the floor, most of them respected workers who needed the income but had no purpose after the post-war restructuring of the Ministry. They were all past their primes and rarely ventured from their offices unless necessary. Angelina could have been carrying on with Weasley for years and no one would’ve noticed. Montague wouldn’t have known if he hadn’t needed something from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts archives.
Incomprehension had prevented him from revealing himself. It superseded his anger and led him to review the last five years of his marriage. He’d given Angelina everything she’d wanted and needed. It was ridiculous for her to have an affair with a man that could give her nothing. He might have understood if it had been one of the younger Weasley’s, but not the thin, balding old man, who’d become even more pathetic after his wife’s death.
Once the elder Weasley had been the laughingstock of the Ministry, now he was an example of what loss could to do a person. It would strip one bare until there was nothing left but a husk performing the daily routines of life.
But Weasley had smiled as well when Angelina’s lips touched his. It was not an affair empty of feelings. What was Weasley giving his wife that Montague couldn’t? The need for an answer was the only reason he hadn’t attempted to curse her yet.
“I don’t want an apology if you don’t mean it,” Montague said. “I want to know why?”
Angelina exhaled, cold eyes meeting his. “Why not?”
end
Title: Apologia
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Angelina Johnson/Montague, Angelina Johnson/Arthur Weasley
Rating: All
Summary: In her defense...
Apologia
“I’m not going to apologize if that’s what you’re waiting for.” Angelina didn’t smile at him when she said this, but she might as well have. Like a villain in a cheap novel, she lit a finely wrapped cigarillo, inhaled sharply, and exhaled a dense cloud of smoke.
Montague couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Were her words a goad or plain truth? He shouldn’t have had to ask such a question. When they were first married he’d repeatedly scolded her for displaying her emotions for all to see. It was an attempt to protect her from the less than approving relatives and friends, who made a point of shunning and insulting her, albeit politely. They took pleasure in her fits of emotion. It had become a contest between them to see who could upset Angelina the most.
Montague had considered the matter resolved when Angelina had finally managed to control herself. He had noticed her growing coldness, but refused to believe it would affect him. Control was only possible for Angelina in the company of others. The nature of their relationship would not permit indifference or even the illusion of it on both their parts.
Or so he’d believed.
Angelina was smiling now. A little knowing grin that told him she knew she’d tangled him up fine silken threads he couldn’t free himself from.
For a second time that day the world tilted off its axis for Montague. Seeing that smirk he was reminded of how Angelina had smiled earlier that day. Perched on the edge of the desk, she’d put on an expression of coyness, manufacturing a blush and a shy smile. It hadn’t been an act but a means of seduction. Angelina had continued to smile as she’d leaned forward to run her tongue along Arthur Weasley’s lips.
Discretion always at the fore, Montague’s first thought was to thank whoever had shuffled Weasley to the offices in the recesses of the Ministry. There were few people on the floor, most of them respected workers who needed the income but had no purpose after the post-war restructuring of the Ministry. They were all past their primes and rarely ventured from their offices unless necessary. Angelina could have been carrying on with Weasley for years and no one would’ve noticed. Montague wouldn’t have known if he hadn’t needed something from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts archives.
Incomprehension had prevented him from revealing himself. It superseded his anger and led him to review the last five years of his marriage. He’d given Angelina everything she’d wanted and needed. It was ridiculous for her to have an affair with a man that could give her nothing. He might have understood if it had been one of the younger Weasley’s, but not the thin, balding old man, who’d become even more pathetic after his wife’s death.
Once the elder Weasley had been the laughingstock of the Ministry, now he was an example of what loss could to do a person. It would strip one bare until there was nothing left but a husk performing the daily routines of life.
But Weasley had smiled as well when Angelina’s lips touched his. It was not an affair empty of feelings. What was Weasley giving his wife that Montague couldn’t? The need for an answer was the only reason he hadn’t attempted to curse her yet.
“I don’t want an apology if you don’t mean it,” Montague said. “I want to know why?”
Angelina exhaled, cold eyes meeting his. “Why not?”
end