Going to be lazy and convert this into Bella’s blog
Going to be lazy and convert this into Bella’s blog
“Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye.”
“Greta! Get up damn you!” She opened her eyes to the sound of someone yelling her name, sitting up a bit in her bed to see Benjy standing over her bed, eyes bright. Curse him for being a morning person. Curse him. Greta groaned and sank back under her covers, pulling the blankets over her head once more. “No,” She mumbled, “Go away, Benjy.” He responded by jumping onto her bed, sitting on his knees and tickling her.
“Its quiz day!” He told her as she shrieked in a fit of laughter and tried to get away from him, kicking in his general direction and missing. “Stop!” She yelled, arms flailing out from under the covers and trying to push his hands away. “Can’t you wake Emmeline up?” She wailed when he finally stopped, pushing the covers away from her head.
“She’s up, unhappy, but up.” Benjy told Greta with a shrug, making her reach over and swat at him once more. He dodged with a laugh and jumped up, grabbing her hand and then her other and pulling her upwards, forcing her to sit up.
“Nooooooo,” Greta protested, sitting up anyways and pulling her hands away from him. She rubbed at her eyes, a signal that she’d be up and ready in about ten minutes. Aka: a signal for Benjy to get out before she murdered him.
About the time she’d predicted, Greta was walking alone down the corridor to her first class, hoping to get her quiz over with and then bombarding the kitchens for food. She opened the door to Transfiguration and nearly collided with someone coming out, making her jump aside, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She let out a breath when she saw it was only Amelia, no one to be afraid of. She gave the blonde an uneasy, apologetic smile and rushed into the classroom.
She was ready to fall asleep with her cheek balanced in her hand as Mcgonogall paced in front of the classroom, giving instructions. Her quill doodled a flower on the quiz’s parchment absently, trying to keep herself awake and failing. Finally, the woman instructed them to begin, and Greta was able to actually focus on something.
Greta felt a bit miserable when she turned in the quiz. She’d known everything on it, but now she felt drowsy, not tired. She’d never get to sleep after this.
Her plead always seem to have a way with him. There was something in her voice that tugs at him and forces him to stop wherever he was. But this time, it was filled with sadness. He had made her sad, he will continue to make her sad because that is what he do. “I destroy, Greta.” He said, his back still turned to her so he does not have to see her pleading eyes, her trembling lips-if they were even trembling. “I break things, people, and I will only destroy you. This is just a fleeting thing.”
A fleeting thing that you will get over in no time. He sighed, digging his hands into his pocket more as he finally glanced over his shoulder at her. She was standing there, looking so small and this was all his doing. Somewhere along the lines of being forced together, he found himself caring about her more than usual. When she was sick, he went over. When she needed him, he was there. When she flirted with someone else, he got jealous. They were self destructive.
“You deserve someone who will make you smile everyday. Someone who will do whatever it takes to be with you. Someone who will make a good husband and father. Someone who will be able to love you. And that person is not me. I am incapable.”
“You’re only destroying something by walking away right now.” Greta told him, aware she was being stubborn, and also aware of how little she cared. She shook her head in protest, though he was refusing to look at her now. “If this was fleeting, I would have forgotten it by now.”
Cautiously, she took a step towards him, not reaching out for fear he might reject her in a way to accept what he was saying. In a way, he looked miserable. Even with his mask set neatly into place. Greta wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold onto him like a child, ask him not to go. Not now. Not like this.
“You’re capable of all of that,” Another step towards him, just as cautious as the first, as though approaching a very large bear, “You just won’t let yourself do it.” Another step. Then another. Another. And then she was close enough that she had to tilt her chin up to look at him, her breathing swift but quiet.
Her hand felt soft over his, and he briefly wondered what it would be like to hold her fragile appendage within his own. Her words was needed, but it made it harder. Nicholas had long came to the conclusion that Greta Catchlove was an angel sent to safe his unstable soul. But it all will come with a price. Mulciber men do not deserve sweet girls like her, like his mother. They will only be destroyed in the future, teared to pieces by the hands of the men they loved so much. It will happen all over again. He is his father’s son.
So he did the only thing he can think of at the moment. As if to thank her for caring about someone like him-a monster-he leaned down. His breathe hitting her face, his eyes exploring hers as he made his move. Nicholas place his lips on her soft one as he kissed her with passion. This is all he can give her. A short fleeting moment. His lips molding against hers for a few seconds before he broke apart the kiss. Taking in the site of her breathless self, her eyes closed, he made sure to store this image at the back of his head-only allowing it to resurface when he most needed it to.
She deserves better than him. So he turned his back towards her. “Goodbye Greta.” She deserves someone who can truly love her, someone who she can make a family with, someone who makes her happy.
Someone unlike him.
So, obviously the two of them had no self control. Greta had to use humor to keep herself from bursting into tears. He’d told her he’d never kiss her again after doing so in front of his father, and here he was. Her eyes drank him in as he leaned down to her, having to force herself not to move an inch until he touched her first.
Before she could reach up to him, he was gone, and she breathed in disappointingly, eyes blinking open to see him turning away. “Please don’t,” the words had stopped him before, and she thought she might at least try. “Please stop running away from me.” Was she someone horrible? Was that why he did this to her? He saw some of the good, and was rewarded with bad. That was the only way she could explain it. Her palms stung where her nails bit into them, this time more upset than angry.
Greta didn’t understand. That was what made it so hard. He never explained anything to her, just showed her these bits of kindness, got angry or blank, and then left her. “At least tell me why.” She wouldn’t ever be happy with his answer, but she needed to know that it wasn’t because she had ‘served a purpose.’
Her words came out soft, but it hit him hard. Somewhere along the lines of hurting her, of forcing her to do his will, of playing along, she had been curious about him. And that curiosity led to other things. For the most unknown reason, he was not angry. He felt a sort of…relieve and he does not know why.
Nicholas walked up to her again, this time not so menacing. His expression remain unreadable, his walk slow, and his eyes transfixed on her face. As soon as he neared her, he placed his hand upon her face again-this time to cup her cheeks with the upmost care. As if she will break at any moment. He peered down her in thought, his thumb running across her soft cheek in an act so unlike him. Greta makes him act acts that he does not normally do. It was infuriating, it frustrates him to no ends, and he cannot stop himself from doing it. She destroys him.
“I’m a monster, Greta.” He said using her name for the first time. “You can’t fall for a monster.” Retreating his hand back, he stared at her for a couple of seconds, eyes sweeping her face as if this is the last time he will be seeing it. “It is best for you to forget about me.”
Part of her wanted to careen into the bookshelf, knock it over and run as soon as he started walking towards her. Everything she’d known from him had been something bad. Every touch had been something strange, sometimes causing pain. Greta was frozen to the spot. Not like she could actually knock a bookshelf over in the first place.
Without thinking, she reached up and held his hand there against her face, not wanting him to move. Her heart was trying to jump out of her throat, and she wasn’t sure if it was fear or something else. A monster. Maybe that was mostly true, but she didn’t see a monster at the moment. She saw someone human. Someone afraid of what they didn’t know.
“I tried.” Greta’s hand fell to her side as his own retreated. “I tried to forget. Tried to forget everything.” Her voice cracked. She didn’t know why. “Obviously it didn’t work very well,” She laughed shortly, her hand reaching up and pushing her hair away from her face as it attempted to fall forward when she looked down slightly, not wanting to look at that expression on his face. He looked like he was about to say goodbye, and she didn’t want it.
Mulciber did not respond, not to the her statement about his father. In fact, whatever amusement he had written on his face disappeared, only to be replaced by a deep frown. She knew nothing about him, knew nothing about his father, so what gives her the right to mock him like that? Instead of words, he decided to use action. In a blink of an eye, Nicholas pressed himself against her to trap her against him and the bookshelf. His big hands wrapping around her chin so he can force her face upwards to look at him. “Do not speak about my father.” He warned, his fingers tightening as a warning.
As quick as it came, it was gone. He ghosted away from her with a quick pace, his back now turned towards her as she answered his question. She was intrigued by him. That, that news shocked him. His shoulders stiffened as he looked at her over his shoulder. The little smile she had one was adorable, but it was not really fitting for her. “Cat, mouse, still an animal.”
“Are you curious or is it something else?” He raised both of his eyebrows at her, looking at her with an unreadable expression. “If it is just curiousity, stop. If it is something else, also stop.”
Her cheeks flared up indignantly when he pressed himself to her again, eyes glowering down at her, one hand holding her chin in a painfully tight grip. Greta said nothing, knowing she’d been out of line. That had been out of line for anyone, really, especially since she really knew nothing about his family or what might happen between them behind closed doors. Judging by his reaction, it wasn’t playing wizard chess.
Rubbing a little resentfully at her chin where he’d grabbed her, she looked up to see the surprise in his face that he hadn’t bothered to hide. As soon as he began to speak, however, it was gone and replaced with his normal, almost blank, look. “But in this game you play, you’re the cat.” Greta told him softly, looking around once more for something else to look at that wasn’t him.
What was it, anyways? She felt dread in her chest, suffocating and pressing hard against her heart. “Something else.” Greta echoed, voice hardly a breath, eyes flickering back to him, her hands at her sides, nails digging into her palms. “I suppose you could call it that.”
Her question came as no surprise to Nicholas. She was an intellect, someone who would constantly seek answers if she had the chance to. The questions she had shot at him in the past prepared him for the question she shot at him right now. Did he have an answer? Yes. Will it satisfy her? No. But he will tell her, not because he truly and deeply cares about her, but because she deserves an answer. Even if it is a hurtful one. “That’s easy.” He drawled out, purposely taking his sweet time. “I needed you to serve a purpose.” To protect his back in case of questionable people. ”And when that was done, I didn’t need you anymore.”
She had served her purpose, that was that. There is no other reason as to why he kept her around for so long-at least none that he would allow himself to think of. Cold eyes setting on her warm ones. He was not sure why it had mattered to her so much. He had given her the chance to leave and yet she had refused. He does not understand Greta Catchlove.
And now, he deserves an answer. Straightening up his stance, Nicholas glanced around the room as if he was in no hurry. His face as blank as it can get. “Tell me, why are you still so stuck on this whole thing? I gave you freedom, you should be thanking me.”
Mulciber’s blank look fell on her and she forced herself to look away, eyes narrowing slightly at his answer. Spending this type of time with him was bringing out her temper that she’d used to hide oh so well behind false laughter and a smile even when she was being insulted. What had she expected? There wasn’t a heart under the thick skin. All he succeeded in doing was infuriating her.
“And what purpose was that? To impress your daddy?” She wouldn’t look at him, but her feet shifted, trying to bring herself closer to the bookshelf and further away from him. She didn’t understand his relationship with his father, nor did she think she ever did. Greta had slipped right under the man’s nose like it was a limbo stick and she planned to keep it that way, and for good reason, she should think.
Still, there was something. Something that was there that she just couldn’t explain no matter how she tried. It sat deep in the pit of her stomach, a dull ache that hurt whenever she thought of him or the things that had happened. “Because.” She picked her words as carefully as she could. She didn’t need him laughing at her, “Because of how you reacted at my house. How you react any time you see me. Every time, you can never seem to decide if your disgusted or amused by me. Its strange, and I’m curious. Besides,” Greta turned her head slightly to look at him, one corner of her mouth turned up in a crooked smile, “It was the cat who was killed by curiosity, not the mouse.”
“And you are the foolish little girl who stuck around with a bipolar man.” He responded with indifference, not letting her words bother him as his dark eyes sweep across her delicate features. Was he a bit bipolar? One would be completely blind not to see that, and he embraces it. He was a violent man by nature; all Mulciber men were. Violence runs in his blood and snapping is not uncommon for him. He is temperamental, angry, and he is willing to take it out on someone, something if he needed to. She was not wrong, but she had no idea about his inner mind, inner demons.
She does not need to know.
“What is it that you want, Catchlove?” Her last name escaping his lips like a foreign invasion. Not once had her real name been said by him. Always been one to call people by degrading nicknames, he had never said her name. It sounded weird to him. His hands pushing into his front pockets, his back leaning more comfortably against the bookshelf as if he is indicating that he can be here all night waiting for her to answer the golden question that both of them were probably wondering.
What does she want?
He was probably right. She was foolish for staying near him for as long as she had, going along with that silly little idea of hers. What had she been thinking? Greta pressed herself into the bookshelf opposite him as though she might sink into it and be gone. That was the thing, she was convinced she hadn’t been thinking at all.
Hearing her surname in his voice sounded wrong. Entirely wrong. Her hazel eyes looked up at him curiously, searching his dark gaze for something besides the obvious distaste for saying her name. He’d only said it when involuntarily introducing her to the others at the Pureblood ball, and he’d had a certain mask around his face that revealed nothing at that time. Catchlove was something Sirius and James called her when they were teasing her. It had never been used…almost against her like this.
Plus, she was a little surprised he had spontaneously combusted at the word ‘love.’
So what did she want? Answers. Some things that he would never give. A rainbow to live on, perhaps, as he seemed so fond to refer to one every time she was around him. “I want to know why you stuck around for so long, and then freaked out on me.” It was one of her less personal questions, though not phrased as a question at all, and frankly the only one she could say without worrying that he might storm off.