the trial ; d.m

19

3rd February 2003

Strange as the past few days have been for Geneva due to the feeling of unease around her husband, subtly avoiding Malfoy and occasionally sneering at him whenever their eyes should meet, she's found it surprisingly easy to deal with.

It's become so normal to her now, feeling tense within her own house. Not threatened. Not anymore. But tense, nevertheless.

The abnormal silence between herself and Theodore has become unbearable, as if their marriage is currently held together by a single thread, but neither will admit that fact. They speak, they act like nothing is wrong, when truthfully everything probably is. Geneva feels it anyway.

She feels it each time Theodore looks at her. It's as if he's glancing upon something as mundane as a brick in the wall when his eyes fall upon her face. And it's like a crippling fist around her heart. Every time. Drowning her lungs in her body's own blood. Suffocating. Killing.

But all the same, they act as if nothing is the matter. All except for Malfoy, of course.

He observes them, he takes his spite out on Geneva, smug in her face behind Theodore's back. And each time reminding her of the irrevocable, inescapable desire for more than the taste of those stupid, soft lips.

But she mustn't think of it. She knows all too well by now that forbidden desires are the ones that are to be desired most. And she won't let them win her.

She loves Theodore. She will make things thrive between the two of them, even if she has to kill in order to protect what they have. Even if that means ridding their lives of any other parties.

Because this is all she has. It's all she'll ever have.

On this particularly crisp February morning, Geneva takes to travelling into Appleby to grab herself some more seeds for their gardens, and when she shares this with Theodore over breakfast, he makes the bold suggestion that she takes Malfoy with her.

"That's not necessary, is it?" she asks, evident bother in her tone. "I'm only popping there for an hour or so."

"Come on, Gen, he hasn't left the Manor in a while. You'll be alright with him."

"I know that. But can't you come along at least?" she pleads, subtly, truthfully not wanting to be left alone with Malfoy in the middle of Appleby.

He gives her a disappointed look which just makes her feel stupid.

"You know I can't. I'm working until late tonight. Please just— be reasonable."

She rolls her eyes and a disgusted sound escapes her. There's that tone again. That irritating parental tone.

"Theo, please don't speak to me as if I'm a child."

"I'm not, darling, I—" he shakes his head, grabbing gently onto her hand. "I just think it would be good. For both of you."

"Why are you so adamant for Malfoy and I to be friendly? Is it not enough that I tolerate him, that I can be civil?"

Before he can make any reply, Malfoy strolls into the room, clearly having just been listening outside to their conversation. Theo turns to him immediately.

"How would you feel about going into Appleby today?" he asks, a civilised smile on his face.

Malfoy glances at Geneva, assessing her expression and grins. "I would be delighted."