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Darcy Redmount

When the trust you had is broken and you're left to burn with your heart wide open

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Darcy Redmount

set term 2 last year

 

Darcy was nervous.

 

Nervousness, surprisingly, was a relatively new experience for her; it was strange to feel the surge of unsettled energy without it being accompanied by a sense of foreboding, or certainty that everything was about to go terribly and utterly wrong. It wasn't altogether completely unpleasant - although the daisy chain now lying mangled and forlorn between her clutched hands would probably disagree.

 

Darcy picked the remnants of the flowers from between her fingers, dusting them into the water gently lapping around her feet. She and Mercutio had arranged to meet out here after their last duel. They probably should have been inside, throwing paper darts at one another instead of studying and making Navi roll her eyes in despair, but responsibility towards academia had never been either of their strongest suits.

 

Instead she'd told the Hufflepuff she'd show him how to make a paper boat and they could race them.

 

A strand of hand fell across her face and Darcy brushed it back self-consciously. It had seemed like a good idea when she was in front of her mirror, letting her hair fall free from the regiments of its normal braid, but now she was outside and waiting and now she had discovered time for regret. But before she could bundle it back up, footsteps crunched along the shore behind her and she spun around with a beam.

 

"Merc! Hi!" Darcy flicked the water from her hands at him with an impish grin. "Wanna make boats?"

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Mercutio Bates

The good thing about falling in love during the spring time was that the weather often reflected your emotions. The rare Scotland sunshine hung about in the sky, only making the broadly built Hufflepuff even more cheerful. Following their very public snog and Mercutio’s confession to Desmond about his feelings, the jock had been walking about the castle with the most obnoxious spring in his step and whistle on his lips.

 

Despite being kept at arm’s length by the hesitant genius, Mercutio wasn’t deterred. He had vowed to make Desmond believe in the sincerity of his feelings and it was a promise he intended to keep for as much time as necessary. But, he understood Desmond’s need for his own space and so, when Darcy asked him to go sail paper boats together that afternoon, he was quick to agree.

 

 

“I’d love to!” Mercutio grinned as he joined her by the lake. “My origami skills aren’t very good though, so you’re going to have to help me a lot.” His big clumsy fingers were good for the more athletic kind of activities, not necessary for the fine crafts.

 

Post 2300 <3

Edited by Mercutio Bates

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Darcy Redmount

She blushed easier and laughed more often as of late - at least when she was around Mercutio, which she contrived to be more and more - and today was no exception. "You - you're good at everything, though," she replied, dashing to her discarded bag and retrieving the paper she had brought along for the occasion - red with gold trim for her, yellow with black for Mercutio - and quickly charming them to be waterproof.

 

"We, um, Mum used to - my house, where I live, there's a creek in the woods, and Mum and I would - we'd go and make these and sail them down and then I'd chase them." Her fingers moved as she talked and soon a miniature sailboat rested in her hands. Darcy beamed. "See?"

 

Seeing Mercutio still with his paper unfolded and barely touched, Darcy paused knee-deep in the water. Oh. Carefully, she set her boat down and splashed back towards the Hufflepuff, taking his hands in hers and gently moving them to make the first crease. "You - you start like this, see?"

 

Her cheeks burned red and her heart moved faster inside her chest.

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Mercutio Bates

“Don’t exaggerate,” Mercutio retorted with a disbelieving snort. He was good at a lot of things, but not at everything. He could go on and on about the things he wasn’t good at: school, writing, reading, being assertive, winning tournaments etc. But he figured Darcy wasn’t interested in hearing that list. “These fat fingers weren’t made for fine crafts,” he declared holding them out to the Gryffindor’s face

 

He beamed widely when Darcy helped him out with his boat, pointing out where to crease the paper and which way to fold the corners. He hummed cheerfully as they worked until he had a similarly folded (albeit a bit more clumsy looking) paper boat for her to waterproof with a charm.

 

“Thanks! How do we make them move though? Magic?” The lake was void of the push and pulls of the tides, the only ripples created usually from the creatures that lived below or from the children splashing about near the edge. Kicking off his shoes and socks and rolling up his trousers, Mercutio followed Darcy into the water.

Edited by Mercutio Bates

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Darcy Redmount

"It's not an exaggeration!" Darcy insisted, batting his hands away from her face with a laugh. "You're - okay, but almost everything! I could - I'll help you practise?" The last part was said at almost a whisper as she turned back to the lake to hide the blush suddenly pressing at her cheeks.

 

She was being silly. He probably didn't want to practise - it hardly seemed like it was the kind of thing that would grab the Quidditch captains attention when there were so many other more exciting things demanding his time and attention. But he'd still chosen to do this with her today - that counted for something, didn't it?

 

"Oh." Darcy had not thought far enough ahead to uncooperative weather. "We - we could - um..."

 

In truth, racing their boats had ceased to be at the forefront of her mind after she had started holding his hand. "M-Merc..." Her voice stuck in her throat and she felt almost light-headed in anticipation; she never had been very good with words. So she turned instead, her eyes wide and uncertain as she rose onto her tiptoes to press her lips to his.

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Mercutio Bates

Apparently Darcy didn’t have an answer to the problem at hand because she was preoccupied with other a whole other notion. Mercutio thought little of the way her small hand slipped into his, so used to the casual handholding from their younger years. But, when she pressed closer until there was a gentle weight against his lips, he couldn’t control the way his body tensed up in surprise. A sharp inhale, then he pulled away. His hand slipped from hers and he stared with wide eyes at the terrified expression she now had on her face.

 

“D-Darcy— wha—“

 

Oh.

 

Timing was important, as the two Fourth years would soon come to understand. Had Darcy approached him three weeks ago when Mercutio was still in his discovery phase, dating and fooling around with a list of people, he might have reciprocated the affection. Mercutio did, after all, possess very strong feelings for Darcy. He wanted to protect her, was willing to change his bigoted anti-werewolf opinions for her. If he dug deep enough, the jock knew he loved her enough that if Desmond had never been part of the picture, he’d be with her.

 

But, he’d chosen Desmond weeks ago. He was happy — elated, even. He couldn’t — wouldn’t — toss him aside even for Darcy.

 

“Darcy,” Mercutio whispered, swallowing the regretful lump in his throat for needing to do this in the first place. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I lo— I’m with Des now.” Not entirely true as they hadn’t agreed on being official yet, but Mercutio had made his intentions clear and was determined to court him until the other boy accepted his feelings.

Edited by Mercutio Bates
spacing T_T

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Darcy Redmount

She recognised this feeling by now. The sunshine froze against her skin and suddenly the water lapping around her calves wasn't refreshing or comforting or anything of that ilk, but knives stabbing into suddenly nerveless flesh. The way it felt like a cloud had obscured the sun, though the sky stretched blue from mountain to horizon. It had happened before, when Professor Carter spilled her secret in the middle of a crowd. But this was different. This time she had spilled her own secret and she had been terribly, terribly wrong. She knew as soon as their lips touched. Everything the storybooks said it would be, everything illusion she had held and dreamed of and hoped for crystalised and shattered in a heartbeat, fallling away against his cold and unresponsive lips. Darcy had made a horrible mistake and as Mercutio spoke it became so apparent how.

 

She was stupid, she was stupid, she was stupid. Girls like her didn't get boys like him. 

 

Desmond. Another stab in her heart. It wasn't as though she had lost to someone like Lillian, older and beautiful and unattainable. It wasn't like he was going on a date with Kaelyn again, or one of the many girls at Hogwarts swooning over the Quidditch heartthrob. She hadn't even lost him to another girl. No, she had lost him to Desmond, someone she had thought of as a friend, and now something strange and bitter rose up in her throat.

 

Or perhaps she had never really had him in the first place. Maybe there had never been any true affection between the two, but only his protective instinct, his yearn to be a hero that had led him to taking her under his wing and led to her misinterpreting absolutely everything. Every touch of his hand, every hug, every smile she had taken as just for her - chivalry, nothing more. And when she was shown to be not the damsel in distress but the monster lurking in the bushes... well, she had already seen how he reacted once. She was a fool to think that he could ever have truly gotten over that.

 

"No." She didn't know what she was denying, except perhaps the entire situation. "Don't - I don't - I don't care." It was a lie and a poor one at that, as each of the knives piercing her heart could attest. "I don't - I'm stupid - I should have known you'd never be able to like a werewolf."

 

She was stumbling back as she spat the words, her eyes filling with tears of humiliation and something else, and her throat aching from the sobs that threatened to burst forth and overwhelm her. "I just - don't."

Edited by Darcy Redmount

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Mercutio Bates

The words cut cruelly and deeply as they were meant to and Mercutio flinched, retracting further from her as she lashed out in a way he'd never seen her do before. Eyes wide, he stared in shock, hurt by the accusations she threw back in his face. "Th-That's not true! Darcy, it's not th--" It stung to have her take the very thing he'd struggled with the last few weeks -- his own ignorance and the very idea that he had been wrong to think that way about werewolves -- and dash it all to pieces. Him loving Desmond and not her had nothing to do with that other part of her character. But, she refused to listen, to see past her own selfishness. 

 

The thought would have lit his own rage if he wasn't currently still hurting from her cruel lashing. 

 

"Darcy," he called out as she began to back away from him, walls hastily building between them right in front of his eyes. "Darcy, please. It's not like that. I just--" but the Gryffindor's don't's held firm and she threw him one last betrayed look before fleeing. 

 

Perhaps in a romantic movie where they played leading roles, he might have had a moment of clarity, might had been forced to choose and choose her. Might have ran after her, collected her trembling, sobbing form into his arms and whispered words of assurance, of love. But, they were not living in such a fairytale story. Mercutio's feet stayed firmly planted in the banks of the lake, toes growing colder in the still water. 

 

Further down, the charms on the paper boats ceased and the waters took hold of the crisp material, leeching through the folds until it swallowed the creations whole.

 

The End.

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