the world, tipped over ~ Drama

02 December 1922
after this

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The effects of the sweets still lingered, fainter but unmistakable now that he knew. Everything inside him felt softer, more tender, too open. His brain was still a little frayed at the edges, not quite itself. His chest pulsed with emotion, too intense, too sensitive. Not how he usually felt. Not even in the face of disappointment and shame.

It was raw, it was desperate, cutting deep, drenched in panic and regret. He had steered for the greenhouses right away, knowing she’d come here. She always came here. He needed to talk to her and he needed to set this right, even though she likely wouldn’t want to see him. The thought dropped his stomach even further.

But he had to talk to her. Had to explain.

When the door clicked shut, warmth and humidity rushing to cling to his skin like sweat, his insides flipped themselves out entirely. Her red-rimmed eyes meeting his rammed another dagger into his guts, the tears on her face, the tremble to her body. He’d never seen her like this and it hurt. More than he thought possible.

He didn’t know how much of it he could blame on the candy.

Matilda’s words halted him before he could walk up to her, before he could say anything to try and explain. Everything she said made him feel worse because none of it was true but all of it was exactly what it must have looked like. He let her speak though, knowing he deserved every ounce of her anger and disappointment. He'd done this, even though he couldn't say why.

When she said Go Away though, using the Russian she'd been practicing — because of him— his face he'd tried so hard to keep neutral finally crumbled.

Drago let a beat pass before taking a step closer, still out of reach. “I am sorry, Matilda,” he said, grasping for words, for composure. “I did not— That is not—” He stopped, closing his eyes for a second to take a breath, forcing himself to slow down. His mind was a hazy, jumbled mess, running on overdrive and nothing seemed to align. After a moment he found her eyes again, voice heavy as he continued. “Alice came back from Hogsmeade looking upset and I asked her what happened. We talked and ate strange chocolates. I don’t know why we were kissing, it came out of nowhere and I—”

He paused, sighed. It sounded totally absurd, incomplete and like a pile of excuses, but he had no idea what else to say. It was the only way he knew how to word it. Running a hand over his head he looked back at Matilda, almost pleading.

“The sweets made my brain fuzzy,” he said, voice muted. “It is not what I wanted, I do not understand how it happened. I do not want Alice, I want you, I'm sorry.”

Matilda stared at him.

Every instinct told her not to believe him. People lied. People made excuses. People hurt you and then found ways to explain why it wasn't really their fault. But standing there in the greenhouse, her safe space, Drago didn't look like someone trying to talk his way out of trouble.

He looked miserable. And somehow that made everything worse. "You kissed her."

The words came out quieter this time. Not angry, just hurt. Her eyes burned as she looked away. "I walked out there and saw my cousin kissing the boy I'm supposed to marry."

The last word caught in her throat. The greenhouse felt too warm, too small, too full of emotions she didn't know what to do with.

"You don't get to just say you want me, that you're sorry, and make that image disappear. I keep seeing it every time I close my eyes." This wasn’t just a small peck on the lips. This was a passionate makeout session. If she hadn’t walked up when she did, things would have only gotten worse. She scrubbed at her face with the heel of her hand, frustrated by the tears that refused to stop.

"And the worst part is I hate how much this hurts. It’d be easier if I was just angry." The words quietly escaped before she could stop them.

"When my grandfather first told me about the arrangement, I spent months trying to figure out how to get out of it. I was angry all the time. At my grandmother, Bertram, at you. I kept waiting for a reason to hate you."

Her eyes dropped to the floor. Looking into his brown eyes, full of emotion and apology made her heart hurt.

"It would've made everything easier." Because hating him would have solved all her problems. There would have been no guilt, no confusion, no wondering about a future that wouldn’t happen. She could end things cleanly, walk away from the entire arrangement with no hesitation. One letter to Bram about the kiss, the betrayal, and he would take care of everything.

Instead she'd gotten to know him. Somewhere between studying together in the common room, stupid arguments, Russian words, honey cakes, birthday presents, walks around the lake, and him showing up in every greenhouse she tried to hide in, something had changed. She hadn't let herself notice until now.

A tear slipped down her cheek. "Somewhere along the way… You stopped being this catastrophic arrangement that happened to me. You became someone I actually cared about."

"The stupid thing is I want to believe you."

She hated admitting it, but there had been rumblings around the castle about how the candies were causing emotional outbursts and odd behavior. "I want to believe that those sweets did something to both of you. I want to believe that my cousin and the man I’m to marry didn’t just go behind my back and cheat, but there will always be that seed of doubt."

Matilda shook her head, the anger burning hotter. It was easier to be mad, pushing the pain deeper. ”What will it be next time? Had too much to drink? It meant nothing, it was just a one time thing? If you think for one second that I'll marry you and quietly look the other way while you step out on me, then you don't know me at all."

There was steel in her voice now. Hurt. Anger. Determination.

"If that's the kind of marriage you want, don't be surprised when you come looking for me one day and I've disappeared."

She wasn’t trying to be dramatic, it wasn’t even out of anger. It was honesty. Because if he expected her to live a life of affairs and mistresses, he would quickly learn what it felt like to be alone.

"You kissed her. I walked out there and saw my cousin kissing the boy I'm supposed to marry. You don't get to just say you want me, that you're sorry, and make that image disappear. I keep seeing it every time I close my eyes."

Drago sighed through his nose, shoulders sagging.

He fucked up. This was bad. Not just because it gutted him to see her hurt and crying, not just because he was the reason for her distress, but because every inch of progress he’d made to fulfil his father’s instructions now laid shattered at his feet. Failed. To get her to agree, to get her to comply, so they could make use of the connections tied to her name. Just when he’d thought he was getting close to proving he was capable, he’d fucked it up.

He had chosen to approach her defiance with softness and it had worked, her reaction made this clear enough. She had opened up to him and this arrangement, she was learning Russian, she was getting accustomed to the idea of marrying him. It had all been going to plan but what he hadn’t planned for was the vulnerability that came along with making her like him. That something meaningless could twist into something catastrophic, that it would elicit such an emotional collapse.

Now he stood in the wake of his own doings.

It twisted his insides not only because it felt like a loss. The thought of the consequences, of his father’s disapproval and disappointment, the punishment that would inevitably follow if Matilda changed her mind, if Mr. Nordstrom pulled back from their contract —

Drago tried to push the thought away.

"The stupid thing is I want to believe you. I want to believe that those sweets did something to both of you. I want to believe that my cousin and the man I’m to marry didn’t just go behind my back and cheat, but there will always be that seed of doubt."

The word cheat bored through the frizzled edges of his mind, straight to the centre of his brain, clicking something back into place.

Cheat? That didn’t sound right. It wasn't even possible and the accusation sat askew.

The last time he checked they weren’t married yet. They hadn’t even declared themselves a couple, nothing that justified the label. Technically he had the freedom to do however he pleased up until that very day they’d say their vows. Of course many men decided to ignore the word they gave but Drago valued his promises. Unrelated to that however was the fact that he wasn't the type to entertain a multitude of women, never had been and never would be. It went against everything he believed in.

Still, he hadn’t made any promises to Matilda yet and the insinuation he'd somehow broken his word was enough to get him bristled, were this any other situation. But he knew she viewed the world through a different lens, that she was different, so he swallowed his protests, continuing to listen.

”What will it be next time? Had too much to drink? It meant nothing, it was just a one time thing? If you think for one second that I'll marry you and quietly look the other way while you step out on me, then you don't know me at all. If that's the kind of marriage you want, don't be surprised when you come looking for me one day and I've disappeared."

Her sadness rolled into anger and Drago wordlessly accepted the emotional spiral she twisted into, supressing the tiny flicker of candy-induced amusement trying to break through. Maybe his plan had been a little more successful than he'd initially thought.

He regarded her for a moment before taking a step closer, trying to catch her eyes.

“Matilda." His voice was firm but gentle, gaze insistent. “I understand that this hurt you. I am sorry. I did not kiss Alice because I wanted to, I would not have done it if it hadn’t been for the crazy chocolates. I do not know what they put into them but I swear — no amount of alcohol has ever made me feel like this.” Not that he was a big drinker at all, but even he had had his adventures at Durmstrang.

Another small sigh escaped his nose, the waning effects of the candy leaving him drained. Carefully he reached out for her hand but when she didn’t pull back, he gently tightened his grip. “I am not a cheater, Matilda. I have no interest in other women, not now, not when we will be married. It is not who I am.”

His eyes travelled over her face for a moment, the trail of her tears. Lifting his free hand he wiped at her cheek as another one slipped free. “I am not tossing you aside, Matilda."

A feeling of shame spread for having made her feel this way after the things she’d told him. He hadn’t truly understood at first but he thought maybe now he did.

Matilda wanted to be angry. Anger was an emotion she knew. It was easier, familiar. Anger meant she could blame him, blame Alice, blame the arrangement. It felt better to pass the blame onto others. But as Drago stood there, holding her hand, apologizing and looking miserable, something inside her cracked.

It hit her, the worst part wasn’t the kiss. A horrible realization settled into her stomach like a rock. If she didn’t care about him, didn’t have actual feelings for him, she wouldn’t be this hurt. If it was truly just an arrangement, a contract signed by adults with too much power, she would have laughed at the kiss. Rolled her eyes, called him an idiot, sent a letter to Bram and moved on.

Instead, she cried. She ran, because the site of him kissing someone else felt like a vice around her heart. Her eyes dropped to their joined hands. The one spot on her body that felt warm.

Merlin. This was a problem.

Somewhere between the great hall and the greenhouse. Between Russian words and birthday presents. Between late-night studying and walks around the lake. Somewhere between him finding her every single time she hid and her eventually stopping trying to run away… She'd fallen for him.

The realization was horrifying. Mortifying. Because now he had the ability to crush her. She had given him the power to devastate her.

“Matilda." His voice brought her back to the present. Her heart pounding in her chest. “I understand that this hurt you. I am sorry. I did not kiss Alice because I wanted to, I would not have done it if it hadn’t been for the crazy chocolates. I do not know what they put into them but I swear — no amount of alcohol has ever made me feel like this.”

She couldn’t look away from his brown eyes. The warmth of his hand seeping into hers.

“I am not a cheater, Matilda. I have no interest in other women, not now, not when we will be married. It is not who I am.”

Matilda was a good judge of character. Her gut never led her astray. And right now, her gut was telling her that she believed him. His hand came up, cradling her cheek, wiping away the traderous tears that wouldn’t stop.

Her eyes shut as she leaned into his touch. A small sob escaping.

[i]“I am not tossing you aside, Matilda."[/b] Those words stitched something in her soul back together. A shaky breath escaped her.

"Do you know what's really awful?" she asked quietly. Blue eyes finding his again.
"I don't think I'm this upset because of the arrangement anymore."

The admission felt like jumping off a cliff, her stomach bottoming out. For months she had fought it. Denied it every chance she got. But she was tired.

Tired of pretending. Tired of running. Tired of lying to herself.

"I think I'm upset because I actually like you. And I hate that."

Her mouth twisted into a watery smile, her eyes falling away from his.

"I hate that you've somehow managed to worm your way into every part of my life. I hate that I look for you in the Great Hall. I hate that I know exactly where you'll be in the common room. I hate that I started learning Russian because I wanted to see that stupid smile when I got the pronunciation right. And I really hate that seeing you kiss someone else hurt this much."

The greenhouse was quiet. For a moment she simply looked at him, then sighed.

"I believe you. I believe the candy had something to do with it. I believe neither of you were thinking clearly." Her eyes dropped to their joined hands.

"But I don't think the candy created something from nothing. If there wasn’t at least a little attraction between you and Alice, I don’t think this would have happened."

Matilda took a deep, shaky breath. It would have been so much easier if she hated him. "I don't know if I can trust you right now. Or trust myself." Silence stretched between them.

"I need time. I need space to sort through my feelings." Her fingers tightened around his hand despite needing space. Not forever. Just enough to stop feeling like her heart was being squeezed every time she looked at him.

"Do you know what's really awful? I don't think I'm this upset because of the arrangement anymore. I think I'm upset because I actually like you. And I hate that."

His heart quickened and then twinged. It was the outcome he’d been hoping for and at the same time it wasn’t.

He’d known the idea of an arrangement in and of itself had irked her — because of her grandmother and because of her upbringing. He had tried to weasel his way around all those feelings of defiance and mistrust anyway, he hardly had another choice, and somewhere along the way he had succeeded.

Only he hadn’t considered she might resent that as well. Why did that feel strange?

In his head it had all seemed so easy and logical. A concise plan he would follow and eventually things would fall into place. She would like him, she would agree to the arrangement, she would become who she needed to be.

But standing face to face with the tangled mess of her emotions and his actions made everything look complicated now. Complex in a way he hadn’t realized possible. Silently he let her words wash over him, trying to understand, searching her eyes when they looked back up to his.

"I believe you. I believe the candy had something to do with it. I believe neither of you were thinking clearly. But I don't think the candy created something from nothing. If there wasn’t at least a little attraction between you and Alice, I don’t think this would have happened."

His hand around hers tightened briefly and for a moment he stood on the verge of protest, the need to defend himself overriding his addled mind. Ultimately he didn’t know what to say though, would it have been a lie? Alice was pleasant to be around, they had had a nice conversation during their project, she was pretty. Was that enough to call it attraction? Did it matter? They had kissed, chocolates or not, maybe Matilda was right.

Still, it sounded hollow but Drago swallowed the confusion, tightening his jaw.

"I don't know if I can trust you right now. Or trust myself. I need time. I need space to sort through my feelings."

For the first time, his gaze dropped away form her face, finding their hands instead, feeling hers squeezing around his. Her statement left an inexplainable reluctance behind, a feeling like something in his chest pulled to taught, uncomfortable. He found he didn’t want space. Or time. He didn’t want to give it to her and he wasn’t entirely sure why it suddenly felt so hard to honour her request. It hadn’t been like this the first time, when she’d asked to take it slow.

For a moment he didn’t move, just looked at their hands, brushing his thumb over her knuckles.

At last he nodded, finding back to her eyes. “Okay.” He pulled himself a little straighter, trying to keep hold of his frayed edges. The sight of her like this still made him want to crack down the middle but he supressed the urge to reach out. Giving her hand one last squeeze he let go.

“I am sorry, Matilda,” he repeated, not knowing what else to say. Every thought in his brain was a melted, muddled swirl of incoherence. He wanted to say more but nothing came, his feet like rooted to the floor. After another second he almost blurted, "Perhaps I will see you at dinner. Or breakfast. If you want."

He was so close. Her breaths came out in fast pants, matching the beat of her heart. The feel of his thumb caressing her knuckles almost had her retracting her wish for time.

“Okay.”

The simple word sounded loud and final in the greenhouse. The brown in his eyes melted her slightly. His hand squeezing hers before letting it drop. She instantly missed the feel of his skin, the warmth that once seeped in quickly escaped. Shivering at the lack of contact, Matilda crossed her arms over her chest, so that she wouldn’t reach out and pull him closer. Looking at her feet, she played with a small dead leaf on the ground, moving it slightly as she tried to get her breathing under control.

“I am sorry, Matilda,” he said in his Russian accent. What was first strange was now beautiful and mysterious. Her eyes still focused on the leaf, blurred without her consent. Shutting her eyes, she took a deep breath

He was giving her what she asked for. Time and space. Her brain knew this was a good thing, her heart disagreed.

"Perhaps I will see you at dinner. Or breakfast. If you want." A small puff of air escaped her, almost sounding like a laugh. Maybe he wouldn’t be. Nodding her head, eyes still downcast, arms still crossed Matilda allowed herself another few seconds before she looked up and answered.

“I will be there for meals, but please don’t expect me to go back to how I was yesterday. Time Drago, I need time.”

As he left the greenhouse Matilda relaxed her body, feeling exhausted. The feeling of betrayal rushed forward with no warning. Grabbing the nearest projectile, Matilda took a garden trowel in her hand and threw it with force at the nearest wall. A scream came out as the sharp metal object embedded itself into the wood wall.

It was probably good he left, in no way was her current behaviour befitting that of a Pureblood woman of society.