Work Text:
She just couldn’t understand it. In all of the possibilities, she never would have thought he was capable of this. She finds herself trying to justify it, maybe she was too overbearing or too concerned with her career and the new baby. Maybe this was preventable, and this was his way of telling her that the love she so readily gave was no longer satisfactory. Maybe he couldn’t do this anymore. That thought sent a wave of nausea through her. She watches the frantic expression of his face, but no longer sees him. She hears the desperate tone coloring his apologies and excuses, but no longer listens to them. All she can focus on at this moment is the pain in her heart and the burning of her eyes as she tries to hold back her tears.
The candles in the kitchen were still lit, flickering gently against the draft brought in by the open window. The flat was clean and smelled of jasmine and she had finally gathered up the energy to wash the baby smell out of her hair and change out the frumpy maternity clothes she had become so used to wearing. She figured special news like this required extra special effort and she had been so excited to tell him for weeks.
But, he had cheated. He cheated on her.
She gazes at his face, notices how the light of the evening sun makes his hair glow a fiery red and distantly acknowledges the light hazel of his eyes even though they are swollen with grief and red with regret. He kneels in front of where she sits at the edge of the bed and grips her hand and a wave of disgust washes over her. How dare he touch her after he has done what he has? She snatches her hand away from him and takes in the utter despair on his face. Good. She can’t make herself feel guilty for it.
“I know, okay? I know I shouldn’t have done it and I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry! I’ll never be able to show you how sorry I am,” he pleads with her.
But maybe that’s the problem. He’s always sorry. Ever since his brother died, he’s caused her pain and embarrassment all in the name of alleviating his own. Sometimes she feels as if he is punishing her, for some misguided insecurity that she’s settling for him in place of his brother or perhaps himself, for being alive without the presence of his twin. She was okay with being that crutch for a while, but she had figured he finally took her seriously with the birth of their son and when they eloped, despite the opposition from both of their families. She thought she could trust him. Angelina had thought that the days of drowning in alcohol and the fear of commitment and the days of hurting her were over. She had obviously thought wrong.
“I just don’t understand,” she whispered. She sounded so broken, so exhausted and hurt it made George wince. “I thought we were okay. You were happy. You, me, and Freddie. You said we were happy.”
There was a whine from the left side of the room, the sound of their son waking up and becoming disgruntled, probably from the tension in the atmosphere. The sound temporarily snapped both George and Angelina out of their fog and they looked over at the baby. She was overcome with anger. How could he do this to her? To their son? His grief and his resentment of the past was poisoning their future that she so desperately tried to bring him to. How could she ever look past this?
She got up and roughly moved passed him, grabbing the baby, and tried rocking him, a futile effort to calm both of them down and distract herself from the tears running down her face. She watched him sit down on the edge of the bed, putting his head in his hands and the urge to cry came back stronger than ever.
“You don’t see me. You never have. I waited for you to heal, and I kept you afloat when you did nothing but drag the rest of us down. You’ve embarrassed me and you’ve strung me along and like an idiot I sat here, and I waited for you! I waited for you to get your act together, to realize that I was in it for the long haul, to realize that we could do this. We could be in love, and we could be happy. And all you’ve done is take me and my love for granted! You don’t care about me, about this family! You don’t care at all,” she was sobbing by the end of her outburst, her tears loud and messy and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Freddie was bawling along with her, scared, and upset at the grief so plainly being emitted from his mother.
Angelina felt as though her heart was being ripped out of her chest. She couldn’t believe how stupid and gullible she had been. He was still the same insatiable boy he had been at Hogwarts, always on the hunt for something more exciting, never satisfied with what he had. He had never been satisfied with her and that realization left her with a coldness that she would never recover from.
George didn’t say anything. He just looked at her like he was being gutted from the inside out. How could he even stand to act like he cared about her when he probably hadn’t thought a thing about her the night he stormed out, upset and eager to drink away his problems. He didn’t try to get up and comfort her or apologize again. She wouldn’t have believed it anyway.
“I can’t stay here. I can’t stay in the pl-” she choked on her words. “I can’t stay in this place. You brought this woman into our home, George. What do I do with that?” she had never sounded so defeated.
He stared at her and for the first time he truly understood what a force his wife was. How he had chipped and withered her away until there wasn’t much left and for that he had never felt so disgusted with himself. He didn’t know how to fix this. He didn’t know if he could. He wanted to try though, despite the numerous times he had hurt her, and despite the already insurmountable requests for forgiveness he had become accustomed to asking for. He opened his mouth, to say what he wasn’t sure, but he was interrupted by her statement.
“I’m leaving.”
He looked up frantically and reached out to her, but the utter grief on her face made him pause. He had done this and now he had to deal with the consequences. She walked out, carrying Freddie and the sound of her grunt as she lifted something, more than likely Freddie’s overnight bag, rang in his ear before he heard the click of the front door and the sound of her walking away. She never felt comfortable apperating with the baby.
He glanced around the room and looked out into the kitchen, taking notice for the first time of the effort and hard work she put around the flat. The hard work she had put into him. Rubbing his face, he got up to clean up, a small pink box wrapped in a white bow caught his attention. He walked towards the chest it was sitting on and slowly opened it up before being overcome with the silent tears falling down his face.
In it was a stick showing a positive sign and a single pink bib, with only the words, Daddy’s Newest Invention, written across it.