Who: Hippocrates Smethwyck and Rachel Englewood
What: A tell-all
Where: Haxton Manor (country inn)
When: Backdated to December 29 1979
A trip to the country had been alternatively a good and bad idea.
It was a good idea, being that the events of the past few days had been exceedingly stressful, the two of them had spent barely any time together in the rough month and a half they'd been seeing each other (they'd never done anything to make it official, either), and Rachel's family had been rather troublesome, so she was more than happy to get away with Healer Smethwyck.
But it was a bad idea, because while she and Hippocrates Smethwyck were on very good terms, and having been fast friends prior to actually seeing one another romantically, he knew relatively little about her. About
all of her. Oh, she knew she had to tell him. In fact, Rachel knew she should have told him everything about her before they'd even become half so committed as they were right now, in terms of getting to know one another.
Naturally, of course, she didn't. She couldn't, she was much too scared that he'd be too alarmed and/or disgusted to continue things and then just
leave. Which he could easily do, since they wouldn't even have to see each other at work, if he didn't wish it.
But during their first day of legitimately staying in, Rachel couldn't pretend like she wasn't being bothered by it anymore, and after some silent deliberation, decided that it was now, or never. What other way to tell your current significant other of your illegitimate child than on holiday, boxed in a cozy little room, suspecting absolutely nothing.
"There was some old Muggle apothecary they've turned into a display, the housekeeper was telling me. Perhaps we should go tomorrow."
Well, she'd--er--have to... work up to it first.
When planning his vacations, Smeth preferred to plan months ahead in advance. Not weeks, or, God forbid, days. That way, he could have an entire itinerary available. However, after the St. Mungo's attack, with he and Rachel nearly caught in the crossfire, he had to just. Leave! With Rachel. After a bit of research, he booked a room for them in a quaint country bed and breakfast, in a part of England he and Rachel had never seen before. He had always wanted to explore the countryside of his motherland, but as a city boy, he had never had the chance.
So they packed up, marveled over the quaint charms the tiny village had to offer, and spent even more getting acquainted with their bedroom.
He was lolling on the bed, reading the evening newspaper that he had previously discarded when Rachel suggested that they explore in the morning. He propped himself up on his elbows, pushing his wire reading glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"Ooh, that sounds good. I brought my camera, so perhaps I can snap some of Nurse Englewood standing about the displays." He raised his eyebrows hopefully at Rachel.
She averted her gaze somewhat bashfully, as she always did whenever he called her by her title, and feeling wholeheartedly undeserving of it at this moment in time.
Sitting as she was, on the floor by the fire and window, Rachel tried to reason with how Healer Smethwyck simply didn't need to know about her previous blunders. The number of valid reasons amounted to exactly none, with all of the reasons why he
did deserve to know positively screaming within her head.
Things like logic, as much as Rachel wished, and may have attempted to do on previous occasions, could not be ignored.
"Do you remember what I was like much, in school?" she asked, casting her eyes below to pointedly avoid looking at him whilst she talked, tugging at the fibers of the rug to occupy her fingers before they took to twisting nervously.
Smeth peered curiously at his girlfriend (Hehe
girlfriend! If he was a girl, or years younger, he would have giggled with delight.) The sudden subject change made him blink with surprise and he sat up. Of course, he would never stop marveling at how swiftly they had become friends, and then even closer, but he was good with that; they were at a good place.
"What you were like at school," he mused, squinting his eyes in mock hard concentration. "Well! You were - and still are! - very, very pretty. But very... regal? Like a princess." He shrugged almost bashfully. "It was kind of like us mere mortals could not approach you." That was true. In his time at Hogwarts, Smeth could nearly count the number of times he had had actual encounters with Rachel Englewood the student on his hands. "But! The times we did talk, or ran into each other, you were always polite."
Pursing her lips, she pulled harder at the rug, starting to unravel one of the fibers. Rachel hadn't hoped to hear that sort of observation from him. It was true, of course, much more so (and much less polite) than he had phrased it, but he had begun to paint a very accurate description of her. Did that signify that it would be easier, or more difficult, to enlighten him of her true nature?
"I suppose that is very true. I didn't have what I considered to be many true friends in school. I was... a bit of a handful," Rachel began, carefully. "I wasn't exactly what you'd call a
wild child," she hated that phrase and the image of unwashed heathens it conjured, "but I certainly caused a lot of problems... particularly after school."
Smeth bit the inside of his thumb, a little known quirk that he did whenever he was feeling nervous or uneasy. He slid off the bed to sit next to Rachel. It was almost as if he could feel it coming, the upcoming other shoe that was about to drop, although he certainly could not have predicted what was to come, exactly. His mind whirred after her gingerly proclamation, wondering how a rich, respected, pureblood (well, before the Ministry had claimed otherwise) girl who was in his House could have been a "wild child."
He reached for her hand, not saying anything, only listening intently.
If she gave this another second of thought, there was no way she was going to tell him. Because really, who had she told about any of this? Bertram, obviously, and whomever else he had deigned to enlighten. Giada knew, naturally, as she was one of the few people--the only person, really--that Rachel could have come to for help. And what happened? They ended up not speaking for
months because Rachel couldn't be bothered to act like a human being.
And that was it. If she told him now, there was a chance that any future happiness she had within her grasp could just--vanish. Rachel was making an effort--a strenuous, honest, hard-working effort--to turn over a new leaf, but things were being made progressively harder for her, and she knew that she could fall back onto her old ways with just a snap of the fingers.
"Do you remember that boy," was that even an appropriate term for him? 'Father of her child' should denote a bit more maturity than that, but none that she was inclined to give, "from that small birthday party of mine, back when I first started at St. Mungo's? Bertram Aubrey?" Oh, Merlin, she was never going to spit this out if she kept prolonging things.
Smeth squeezed her hand slightly with his, nodding. "Yes, I remember him," he said. "He was the one with the adorable daughter in her angel costume, right?" He had bent down and played with her for a good while, introducing himself and helping her pronounce his rather formidable and lengthy name. He had finally got her to settle on "Hippo."
Rachel's hand involuntarily spasmed around his, her heart rate spiking, fairly confident he could hear the thuds. "I--Amissa--that's her name, that baby girl. That's--she was there because she's mine--my daughter."
It should have gone away, that horrible thumping of her heart, but it didn't. That miraculous feeling of relief she'd been selfishly expecting did the exact opposite. "I--it happened a
long time ago, the summer I left school," she explained hurriedly, tripping over her words as Rachel tried her best to justify something that really couldn't be justified, "and I didn't--I wasn't a good person, Hippocrates Smethwyck, and I am
still not. Of all the people in the world, I am the one who does not deserve to be with someone as caring and generous as you are, I
don't. If you knew--if you knew half of the things I'd done in my past, I doubt very much that you'd still associate with me. I can't even tell you them, because I've tried so hard to cultivate a better image than that for you, but I can't--there is a point where running away from it just causes more problems, and I--"
The tears started to fall freely, and there was really no words to express the sort of humiliation she felt. Karmic retribution, she thought grimly. How satisfying to knock spoilt and selfish witches from self-implemented pedestals.
Throughout her entire unraveling of this tale, Smeth had been biting the inside of his thumb, a straight session; longer than he had done a long time. He rarely did this habit anymore (save for a few minutes ago), and consequently, his thumb was rather raw and red. He didn't take his eyes off of Rachel one second, not even to straighten the reading glasses that always slipped down the bridge of his nose.
To be honest, Smeth really hadn't expected something like this. Actually, he didn't know what he had expected - a secret drug ring, a cheating ring, a... well, there were a lot of 'ring' possibilities that were floating around in his mind before the actual confession. But the announcement that Amissa was actually
her child... that was, admittedly, a definite curveball that he did
not see coming.
Smeth knew that the admission of a child would have sent many men running, especially with a confession
this late into the relationship game. He was ashamed to say that he knew guys that would have a plethora of lame excuses at the ready, such as, "I didn't sign up for a child," "I'm going to have to end this because you were dishonest with me," et cetera, et cetera.
Fortunately, dear readers, Hippocrates A. Smethwyck was not, for lack of a more eloquent term, a scumbag.
He had been holding her hand, but simply holding hands would not suffice. His heart reaching out to her, he instantly put his arms around her, and held her tightly, for a few long moments. He then pulled back slightly, and with one hand, tilted her chin up slightly so that she can look into his eyes, clear green windows of utter sincerity. "Rachel, it doesn't matter what kind of indiscretions you got yourself into in the past." Gently, he wiped away her tears, and he noted how pretty she still looked, even when she was crying. "It must have been
incredibly hard to gather up the courage to tell me. You could have stayed quiet, because you didn't want to scare me away, but you did so anyway. And that, is truly admirable."
He kissed her gently on her lips. "And besides, Amissa is adorable. I rather like her nickname for me, I think 'Hippo' suits me just fine."
She almost felt even worse. Well, it wasn't as if Rachel hadn't known the man was essentially perfect. She just kept waiting for him to act human like the rest of the world, which he was showing no signs of wanting to do any time soon.
Letting out a shaky laugh, she wiped her tears away as delicately as she could, shifting herself just slightly so she was resting against his shoulder--still touching, but she wouldn't have to look him in the eye. There was a lot Rachel would have to come to terms with, and having him by her side--it just made things much easier. And as much as his reaction unsettled her, embarrassed her, made her feel worse about her past decisions, Rachel was more thankful than she could even comprehend that he hadn't chosen to make a break for it.
"I'm--I'm glad you find it appropriate," was all she could manage to say, holding one of his hands in her own and fiddling with it.
Perhaps they hadn't been together for so long. But they had to have what it took to make it. They just had to.
