TITLE: Old Friends
AUTHOR: Catriona Rhiannon
RATING: PG. Ratings may change in any subsequent chapters hereafter.
CATEGORIES: Angst and Romance
SPOILERS: SS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP
DISCLAIMER: Standard disclaimers apply. The characters of the Potter-verse belong to JK Rowling.
Unfamiliar characters and the entire plot of this story is based on "Merrily We Roll Along", a musical by
Stephen Sondheim, based on a play by George Furth.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: The updates are coming faster and faster! Whee-ness :) Lots of action in this bit;
it's quite long, as some of my chapters go. Thanks for all the reviews! I'm definitely glad that there are
constructive reviews, save for one, hem-hem. But we are all entitled to our own opinion, right? Right-o. This chapter
features an almighty row, and it speaks quite a lot about Deirdree. Her character in the musical, Gussie Carnegie,
isn't really as nefarious as my portrayal of her here. A lot of people may actually sympathize with her. She falls
in love with a talented, younger man, steals him away from his friends, yet fails to keep him because her looks and her
moxie is all she has to keep his attention, and eventually, he falls for another, younger starlet. Here, however,
she's just a big darn bee. ^_^
Ooh, in case anyone is wondering, I'm naming my titles according to song titles and/or lines from the musical.
Future chapters hereafter will show more Trio involvement. As always: read and review, please!
OLD FRIENDS
III. Like It Was
Harry placed the cigar on his lips and lit it, taking a long drag out of it. He watched the end of the cigar turn into ash, and he flicked it impatiently away. His eyes were furrowed, and his hair was disheveled, as if he had run his hands through it many times, which he had. His party clothes, pressed and ironed to perfection just that morning, were now wrinkled and untidy-looking. Had Deirdree been there, she would have thrown a fit.
He smiled wryly. It had been a long day.
His wife had thrown a tantrum once all the party guests had left, and she had stormed out, merely looking at him coldly as she left to go to a nearby pub with her closest friend, Catherine. He found that he didn't feel nearly as desperate to be with her as he had three years ago, when he turned his back on Ron and Hermione. All he felt was relieved that she had left, because it allowed him the time he needed to sort out his thoughts. He wouldn't have been able to do it with her twittering about, glaring at him as if he had murdered her puppy.
So… Ron was married. To Luna Lovegood, for that matter! Gods, he didn't see that one coming. Was he happy, he wondered. Were he and Hermione still best friends? Was Hermione married? Merlin, he didn't even think of asking her that.
It was true he had cancelled his subscription to the Daily Prophet. After leaving the wizarding world, a world he loved and grew up in, for the life he was leading now, any bit of news he would receive from it would only make his heart ache and make him feel more exiled. So he started ignoring the owl, ignored it even when it pecked his palm ferociously, asking for payment. Eventually, it stopped coming, and Harry had left the wizarding world for good.
If he had known what his life would become if he stayed with Deirdree - all form and no substance whatsoever - he wouldn't have let Ron walk out that door. And even after all that, he supposed he could have gathered the courage to ring up Ron and Hermione for a talk, just to have them back in his life, even if nothing was ever going to be the way it was.
But the thing was… he had his pride. It was juvenile and angsty, but the fact of the matter was that it was all he had left. All his dignity had evaporated the minute he saw Ron's disappointment in him all over his face, when he saw the sickened look that Greg had on when Deirdree turned away from him to run into Harry's arms. He had no love left in his life; at least, no love that felt truly meaningful and worthwhile. He hung onto Deirdree because he wanted to stand by the decision that cost him everything. The sex was still great, but that's all that Deirdree was to him now. A pretty face with a tireless body. He didn't even remember why he found her so utterly fascinating in the first place.
He looked over at the wall, where Deirdree hung all the posters of the movies she had starred in, and most of which he produced. Deirdree treated them as if they were their own children; she took an hour everyday to polish and clean them every afternoon, before she slipped out to have her daily massage. Ironically enough, all Harry felt at that moment was an intense urge to flick cigar ash at every single one of them. They were nothing to him. They didn't mean anything to him at all. And that was exactly how he felt about his so-called career as a film producer.
If he was being honest, he didn't really feel like a film producer. Basically, he was just Deirdree's moneybag. She was always making all the decisions about the films; the casting and crew choices, the budget, the shooting schedules… everything was her doing. She just did it in his name. He really had no interest in movies; initially, all he wanted to was be involved in whatever she was doing.
Suddenly, he felt so tired. He crushed the remainder of his cigar into an ashtray. Whenever he closed his eyes, it wasn't Deirdree on his mind anymore. All he could see was Hermione's look of disgust as he whirled around to face her. Oh gods, all he wanted to do then was embrace her, breathe in the familiar scent of her hair. He wanted to feel that she was really there; real, and not just a figment of his delusional imagination. He wanted to, but what held him back was the fear that she might recoil from his touch.
And who could blame her, really? He himself wanted to throttle Harry.
The door slammed open, shut, and Harry nearly groaned to himself. She was home.
Deirdree swept into the room and planted herself within his line of sight. "Well?" she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "Are you going to explain yourself, Harry?"
He looked at her dully, and turned away.
She threw up her hands in frustration, and begged for the gods to give her strength. God knew she loved this man, but for crying out loud, he had more emotional baggage than she had had to put on in all her drama roles combined. "Look Harry," she said, in the calmest voice she could possibly muster. "I know you miss them, but can't you see that they don't fit in this life? The media will have a field day if they find out you're associating with… you know. That kind of people."
"For your information," Harry retorted coldly. "Those kind of people are my friends. Were my friends. God, what was I thinking? I've been such a stupid, stupid prat."
Suddenly, Deirdree felt afraid. Was she losing Harry? Did she not have him in his thrall anymore? Were her charms not as effective as before? She saw him now, frustrated and lonely. He didn't even see her anymore. Clearly, he wasn't as star-struck with her presence as he used to be. Before, his eyes automatically sought hers out whenever they were even in the same room. Tonight, he barely looked at her.
"Harry, dear," she said softly, in what she hoped was a pacifying tone. "Talk to me, please. I love you, you know that. I just want what's best for you. I don't want the media all over your back. You know how relentless they are."
"You don't seem to think so."
Anger tightened her chest. "Well, that's what I'm supposed to do. It wouldn't be good for my image if I screamed at them every time they come calling at our door. And that's beside the point." When he refused to talk to her, she lost her temper. "Oh, do stop acting like an immature brat, Harry! You knew what you were getting into when you married me. Don't act resentful, it's unbecoming, not to mention childish."
Harry stood up all of a sudden, eyes flashing with a temper she hadn't seen in quite awhile. "You want to see childish, Deirdree? I may be younger than you, and I may not be as experienced as you are when it comes to your business, but don't you dare patronize me!"
"Well, don't give me a reason to! You're behaving as if you're twelve, instead of twenty-five! And you're losing the plot here, Harry! I should be the one screaming at you, instead of you blasting at me! What the hell were you thinking inviting that-that trash in this house?"
"Don't you DARE call her that!"
"Didn't you even see her today? She's a fat, drunken ghost from your past, who obviously wants to be let in on the action. All she wants from you in your money!"
"And if she is what you say she is, what makes her any different from you?"
She stopped and stared at him. Harry, who had never raised his voice to her until tonight, who had never said anything hurtful to her before, was saying these horrid words to her. And that ugly expression on his face! All of a sudden, she was wracked with shame.
"How can you think that?" she said, her voice tiny. When Harry looked up, he saw the tears welling in her eyes, and immediately, he felt remorse. "Don't you think that I really love you? We've been married for almost three months now. We've been together for more than four years! And you think that all I've been doing is using you?"
"Deirdree, darling-I'm sorry. It's just been a rough evening for me."
"Haven't I shown you that I loved you? Every night, I've shown you that my love has never wavered. And damn me for thinking that if you're sleeping with me, that means you must love me too!"
She was getting hysterical. Tears were moistening her eyes, and she was starting to shake-all signs of her impending breakdown. All of a sudden, however, before Harry could do anything, she threw herself into his arms and proceeded to kiss down his neck. She molded her body to his and her hands located the buckle of his trousers.
Immediately, he could feel a reaction coming from his own body. 'Damn it all to bloody fucking hell!' he swore to himself, and, trying to maintain a modicum of control, firmly pushed her away. "This isn't the way to resolve this, Deirdree."
She stared at him for a moment, then stomped her foot almost childishly. "Oh, blast it! Don't you want me anymore, Harry?" The tears that continued to stream down her cheeks, he could see, were more of frustration than actual despair.
"That's it! I do! But I can't help thinking that that's all I'm reduced to now. All I do is want. Doesn't it worry you that all we do is sleep together? We don't even talk anymore, like we used to."
"Well, I'm busy! I would expect you, of all people, to understand that."
"So is that all I am to you? A great lay, but after it's all over, out the door to film your next blockbuster? Gods, Dee, I'm not that shallow! That's not all I'm about! I thought you knew that."
"Dear god, Harry, if I had known you'd be as high-maintenance as Greg would be, I never would have let you into my pants in the first place!"
He stopped and stared at her. "What did you just say?"
"I said-" she sputtered and her eyes widened. "That's-that's not what I meant."
"Oh?" Harry said coldly. "And what did you mean by that? Because, silly pitiful me thought you let me into your pants because you cared about me."
"Harry! I was angry and irrational! I didn't mean what I said! Jesus, Harry, stop jumping to conclusions to suit your own frame of mind. I'm not the bad guy here!"
"Oh, then who is? Me? For misunderstanding your love as fucking charity? I threw away the most important things in my life for you and all this time, I was just this little boy you took pity on."
She couldn't believe how close he came to hitting the mark, really. "I love you Harry! For the boy you were, for the man you've become! But don't you see, Harry? If you had stayed that way, you wouldn't have gone on long in this business! Because of me, you're a powerful man! Don't deny that you wanted this! Fame, fortune, recognition! Your life is the life that everyone dreams of having!"
"Well, I don't want it for me! I wanted it because you did! I fucking hate this life, to tell you the truth. All this lack of privacy, this helplessness, this whole bloody business was what I wanted to escape from in the first place!"
"Oh bollocks Harry! You were just an empty shell when I first met you. I made you out to be something in this world. Something to be reckoned with! You would have just gone on living that empty life of yours, had I not intervened!"
"I'm not a bloody piece of clay for someone to mold, especially by the likes of you! Did you think that after I fell in love with you that you could easily manipulate me to suit your own needs? A vehicle for your own career-centered mind? And is it just a plus that I'm just filthy rich?"
She let out a scream of frustration. "I will not be spoken to in this manner! I'm your wife, dammit! Treat me with that respect!"
"What's the point? You never gave me that respect as your husband, just as you've never given that respect to Greg!"
She slapped him then, a hard smack to the face that he felt that he might have deserved, although not for the truth that he had just spoken.
"Don't insult me, you ungrateful brat. To think I divorced a man who worshipped the ground I walked on, to marry a pitiful excuse for a man like you. What the hell was I thinking?"
"Oh, don't worry. I'm thinking the exact same thing. I don't want to argue with you all night, Deirdree. Let's not talk about this right now. I'm going out for a walk," Harry said tightly. He started for the door, but Deirdree grabbed at him, nearly tearing away the buttons from his already wrinkled shirt.
"Don't you dare walk away from me, Potter!"
"I'll walk wherever I please!" Harry snarled back. Surprised, she let go of him, and he grabbed his coat and shrugged it on quickly. She followed him all the way to the foyer, but she stopped when he turned around abruptly in the doorframe to glare at her.
"Don't follow me. You owe me that much. Let me get my fucking life back."
And with a whirl, he turned slammed the door shut. He heard the Ming vase that stood on the coffee table in the far wall of the foyer crash against the wood behind him, and ironically, he smiled delightedly.