Leigh!fic- Breaking Glass (1/1) (Katie/Stewart)
Title: Breaking Glass
Pairing: Stewart Ackerly/Katie Bell
Prompt: facing tomorrow alone
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,392
Summary: Could this really be happening again?
Author's Notes: My ninth Katie/Stewart fic for rarepair_shorts
Link to Prompt Table: Prompt table
Katie’s heart was beating wildly in her chest as she stared at the offending picture. Front page of the Daily Prophet: Katie Bell: Has She Done It Again? It wasn’t the headline that had her heart pounding; no, she was far too used to derogatory catchphrases used by the media in conjunction with her name and character. It was picture that accompanied said headline. She didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to see it and feel her heart shatter into a thousand pieces, but there was evidential support. Again.
It was a picture of Stewart with some petite little blonde, his hand on the small of her back with his head ducked down, closer to hers. They were both smiling, and every so often the woman would toss her head back and laugh, showing off her rippling blonde hair. It was so painfully intimate that it made Katie want to scream.
It was like déjà vu for her. Were the papers right? Had it really happened to her again? Memories flashed through her mind simultaneously: the first time Marshall had kissed her, overlapping her first kiss with Stewart. Laughing at some self-deprecating comment Stewart made while a similar, earlier memory played out in her mind. Marshall had ‘loved’ her, wooed her, made her feel like she was something special…while at the same time, he was shagging that slag who worked for the New Orleans Owl. Her name had been drug through the mud, and it’d been made out that it was her fault. She was the frigid ice bitch, a British alien with the heart of stone, and her duplicitous ex was only looking for someone to love him, to treat him right. Was it any wonder she’d had her contract with the Voodoo terminated and had fled home to England?
Could this really be happening again?
Her heart was telling her no, that this wasn’t possible. Stewart, despite his slightly inflated ego and general cockiness, was a good man. He wouldn’t cheat on her, especially in such a public manner. But her mind was reminding her heart of what it’d already gone through. And Stewart was four years her junior. Even though he lived his life in the spotlight, as she did, he hadn’t yet endured a media hailstorm. He wasn’t as seasoned as she was in that regard.
The word ‘cougar’ flashed through her mind again, making her lip twitch upwards despite the tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes. It had become his pet name for her, his constant ribbing about ‘cradle robbing’ a sort of ritual for them. He’d tease, she’d shoot back some insult, they’d snog; it was just how they operated.
Or was it how they used to operate?
Calm down, Katie, it’s just a picture, a little voice in her head, which sounded suspiciously like Romy, said. You don’t even know who the woman is. It could be his sister for all you know.
“He’s an only child,” she said.
Alright then, his cousin.
Fuck that! another voice, this time a dead ringer for Angelina’s, sounded. Don’t let this happen again, Kates. Cut his bollocks off!
Angelina, violence isn’t always the answer…
Don’t you have like, fifteen children to mother, Romilda?
“Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, shut the hell up!” Katie screamed, jerking at her hair in irritation. Merlin, it was just like her friends. They were constantly on her about finding a man, and then as soon as she did, they brought up everything that was wrong with him. It was enough to drive her barking mad!
There was a pause of silence until the ghostly voice of Romy said tentatively, Katie, dear?
“What?” she barked.
Angelina’s voice snickered. We’re in your head. You’re yelling at yourself, wench.
Fuck. Maybe she was already barking mad. There was only one thing to do, really.
Drive the voices away with wine.
Lots of wine.
*~*~*~*~*
A bottle of pinot noir later, Katie was well on her way to being as drunk as a sailor. Currently, she was lying on her back in the middle of the living room, staring up at the chandelier with a sense of drunken wonderment. Who knew that the light made such pretty pictures?
“I see a hippogriff,” she murmured contentedly, pointing at said shape on the ceiling. “Is like Buckybeak. Buck-buck-buck-buck-buckybeak.”
The doorbell rang, but she ignored it. Wasn’t that why she had a house elf, to answer the door? And to do the cooking and the cleaning and all the other chores that Katie detested doing. Nïx would get it; she was a good elf like that.
She could hear two heavy footsteps following the old elf up the stairs from the front entry hall to the living room. Maybe it was Jonathan; her brother had promised to bring Lizzie by to see her favorite aunty.
“Mizzy Katie,” Nïx said, the barest hint of hesitation in her voice, “is Master Stewie.”
It took ten seconds and two long blinks for her elf’s words to sink in. Katie propped herself up on her elbows and tilted her head back, regarding her visitor through an upside-down glare. Sure enough, it was Stewart behind her elf.
“You m’go, Nïx,” she slurred, waving the empty bottle at the tiny little creature.
The elf gave a low bow before she disappeared with a ‘crack!’
As soon as she was gone, Katie plopped back down on the rug. “What th’fuck are you doing here?”
Stewart, who had started over to her, paused mid-step. “Um, I came by to see my girlfriend. What do you think I’m doing here?”
“Your girlfriend?” Katie snorted. “She dun live here.”
He raised one brow at that. “Unless Katie Bell, whom I’m staring at- at least in her intoxicated form- has suddenly moved from No. 54 Flood Street, the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, London SW3 5SY, United Kingdom to another residence; which, by the way, she clearly hasn’t, I’d say she does indeed live here.”
“Nope,” Katie growled, rolling onto her stomach and fixing him with a glare, “m’not you girlfriend.”
“Since when?” Stewart was obviously confused.
“Since you started running round on me with blonde little slags!” she shouted, summoning her copy of the Prophet and thrusting it towards him. “What the fuck?!?”
Snagging the paper, he glanced down at the damning evidence of his supposed infidelity. One brow rose before his lips twitched upwards in a smile. To Katie’s shock, he started to laugh. Great, big bursts of laughter passed from his lips, further infuriating her drunken ire.
“Katie, this isn’t-“ he was cut off by a silencing spell, aimed expertly at his mouth.
“Get out,” she growled as she rose to her knees, her wand in her right hand and the empty bottle in her left.
Stewart shook his head and mouthed Not until you let me explain.
“Get out!” she screamed, hurling the bottle at his head.
He ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding a sure concussion by wine bottle. It hit the wall behind him and shattered into a thousand little pieces, which were flung all over the room. His eyes were wide with surprise, his mouth parted as he looked at her, as if he were seeing her, really seeing her, for the first time.
When Katie shot off a quick round of Stinging hexes, he held up his hands in defeat and dropped the paper. I can explain, he mouthed.
“Explain what? How you’re cheating on me?” she hissed. Her mind, suddenly clear, was full of hurt and anger and other strong emotions. If he didn’t leave soon, she was bound to make something explode, as her magic was wont to do when she was extremely angry.
I’m not cheating on you! His lips were moving, but no sounds were coming out; a fact which deeply satisfied her.
“Like hell you aren’t,” Katie growled. “Get the hell out before I make you bleed.”
Stewart needed no more encouragement; with wide eyes, he pulled out his wand and Disapperated with a loud ‘crack!’
Nicely done, Kates. Angelina’s voice was back. I still think you should’ve castrated him, but you can save that for later.
Oh, Katie, her mind’s incarnation of Romy sighed, what if he was telling the truth?
“Piss off, both of you.” Bloody hell, it was time for the liquor.
Pairing: Stewart Ackerly/Katie Bell
Prompt: facing tomorrow alone
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,392
Summary: Could this really be happening again?
Author's Notes: My ninth Katie/Stewart fic for rarepair_shorts
Link to Prompt Table: Prompt table
Katie’s heart was beating wildly in her chest as she stared at the offending picture. Front page of the Daily Prophet: Katie Bell: Has She Done It Again? It wasn’t the headline that had her heart pounding; no, she was far too used to derogatory catchphrases used by the media in conjunction with her name and character. It was picture that accompanied said headline. She didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to see it and feel her heart shatter into a thousand pieces, but there was evidential support. Again.
It was a picture of Stewart with some petite little blonde, his hand on the small of her back with his head ducked down, closer to hers. They were both smiling, and every so often the woman would toss her head back and laugh, showing off her rippling blonde hair. It was so painfully intimate that it made Katie want to scream.
It was like déjà vu for her. Were the papers right? Had it really happened to her again? Memories flashed through her mind simultaneously: the first time Marshall had kissed her, overlapping her first kiss with Stewart. Laughing at some self-deprecating comment Stewart made while a similar, earlier memory played out in her mind. Marshall had ‘loved’ her, wooed her, made her feel like she was something special…while at the same time, he was shagging that slag who worked for the New Orleans Owl. Her name had been drug through the mud, and it’d been made out that it was her fault. She was the frigid ice bitch, a British alien with the heart of stone, and her duplicitous ex was only looking for someone to love him, to treat him right. Was it any wonder she’d had her contract with the Voodoo terminated and had fled home to England?
Could this really be happening again?
Her heart was telling her no, that this wasn’t possible. Stewart, despite his slightly inflated ego and general cockiness, was a good man. He wouldn’t cheat on her, especially in such a public manner. But her mind was reminding her heart of what it’d already gone through. And Stewart was four years her junior. Even though he lived his life in the spotlight, as she did, he hadn’t yet endured a media hailstorm. He wasn’t as seasoned as she was in that regard.
The word ‘cougar’ flashed through her mind again, making her lip twitch upwards despite the tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes. It had become his pet name for her, his constant ribbing about ‘cradle robbing’ a sort of ritual for them. He’d tease, she’d shoot back some insult, they’d snog; it was just how they operated.
Or was it how they used to operate?
Calm down, Katie, it’s just a picture, a little voice in her head, which sounded suspiciously like Romy, said. You don’t even know who the woman is. It could be his sister for all you know.
“He’s an only child,” she said.
Alright then, his cousin.
Fuck that! another voice, this time a dead ringer for Angelina’s, sounded. Don’t let this happen again, Kates. Cut his bollocks off!
Angelina, violence isn’t always the answer…
Don’t you have like, fifteen children to mother, Romilda?
“Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, shut the hell up!” Katie screamed, jerking at her hair in irritation. Merlin, it was just like her friends. They were constantly on her about finding a man, and then as soon as she did, they brought up everything that was wrong with him. It was enough to drive her barking mad!
There was a pause of silence until the ghostly voice of Romy said tentatively, Katie, dear?
“What?” she barked.
Angelina’s voice snickered. We’re in your head. You’re yelling at yourself, wench.
Fuck. Maybe she was already barking mad. There was only one thing to do, really.
Drive the voices away with wine.
Lots of wine.
*~*~*~*~*
A bottle of pinot noir later, Katie was well on her way to being as drunk as a sailor. Currently, she was lying on her back in the middle of the living room, staring up at the chandelier with a sense of drunken wonderment. Who knew that the light made such pretty pictures?
“I see a hippogriff,” she murmured contentedly, pointing at said shape on the ceiling. “Is like Buckybeak. Buck-buck-buck-buck-buckybeak.”
The doorbell rang, but she ignored it. Wasn’t that why she had a house elf, to answer the door? And to do the cooking and the cleaning and all the other chores that Katie detested doing. Nïx would get it; she was a good elf like that.
She could hear two heavy footsteps following the old elf up the stairs from the front entry hall to the living room. Maybe it was Jonathan; her brother had promised to bring Lizzie by to see her favorite aunty.
“Mizzy Katie,” Nïx said, the barest hint of hesitation in her voice, “is Master Stewie.”
It took ten seconds and two long blinks for her elf’s words to sink in. Katie propped herself up on her elbows and tilted her head back, regarding her visitor through an upside-down glare. Sure enough, it was Stewart behind her elf.
“You m’go, Nïx,” she slurred, waving the empty bottle at the tiny little creature.
The elf gave a low bow before she disappeared with a ‘crack!’
As soon as she was gone, Katie plopped back down on the rug. “What th’fuck are you doing here?”
Stewart, who had started over to her, paused mid-step. “Um, I came by to see my girlfriend. What do you think I’m doing here?”
“Your girlfriend?” Katie snorted. “She dun live here.”
He raised one brow at that. “Unless Katie Bell, whom I’m staring at- at least in her intoxicated form- has suddenly moved from No. 54 Flood Street, the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, London SW3 5SY, United Kingdom to another residence; which, by the way, she clearly hasn’t, I’d say she does indeed live here.”
“Nope,” Katie growled, rolling onto her stomach and fixing him with a glare, “m’not you girlfriend.”
“Since when?” Stewart was obviously confused.
“Since you started running round on me with blonde little slags!” she shouted, summoning her copy of the Prophet and thrusting it towards him. “What the fuck?!?”
Snagging the paper, he glanced down at the damning evidence of his supposed infidelity. One brow rose before his lips twitched upwards in a smile. To Katie’s shock, he started to laugh. Great, big bursts of laughter passed from his lips, further infuriating her drunken ire.
“Katie, this isn’t-“ he was cut off by a silencing spell, aimed expertly at his mouth.
“Get out,” she growled as she rose to her knees, her wand in her right hand and the empty bottle in her left.
Stewart shook his head and mouthed Not until you let me explain.
“Get out!” she screamed, hurling the bottle at his head.
He ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding a sure concussion by wine bottle. It hit the wall behind him and shattered into a thousand little pieces, which were flung all over the room. His eyes were wide with surprise, his mouth parted as he looked at her, as if he were seeing her, really seeing her, for the first time.
When Katie shot off a quick round of Stinging hexes, he held up his hands in defeat and dropped the paper. I can explain, he mouthed.
“Explain what? How you’re cheating on me?” she hissed. Her mind, suddenly clear, was full of hurt and anger and other strong emotions. If he didn’t leave soon, she was bound to make something explode, as her magic was wont to do when she was extremely angry.
I’m not cheating on you! His lips were moving, but no sounds were coming out; a fact which deeply satisfied her.
“Like hell you aren’t,” Katie growled. “Get the hell out before I make you bleed.”
Stewart needed no more encouragement; with wide eyes, he pulled out his wand and Disapperated with a loud ‘crack!’
Nicely done, Kates. Angelina’s voice was back. I still think you should’ve castrated him, but you can save that for later.
Oh, Katie, her mind’s incarnation of Romy sighed, what if he was telling the truth?
“Piss off, both of you.” Bloody hell, it was time for the liquor.