WHO: Ingrid Catchlove & Christian Entwhistle
WHAT: Srs talkins.
WHEN: Backdated to the 19th
WHERE: Hogsmeade

All week Ingrid Catchlove had been looking forward to this day. All week she had been preparing words in her head, imagining what she would say to Christian when she finally saw him again and how she would apologize and then, possibly, how she would tell him about the--well... how she would tell him her news. That was the euphemism she'd been using lately to refer to this life she had growing inside of her, because it seemed a lot less real in her mind when she didn't have to use the word 'baby.' Gillian always used that word, which drove Ingrid halfway up the wall, but for Gillian 'baby' didn't mean anything bad. It meant the life she'd created with her husband, who was going to be there for her and wasn't--well, she was married, settled, and that was the point. It all seemed so very unfair that within one dorm there could be two polar opposite situations, and that she somehow had been the one to draw fate's short straw.

But for her own sanity, she had been ignoring it all; Ingrid couldn't get mad at one of her friends just because she wasn't as horribly stupid as she was. This had been her own fault, just like it was her own fault that she was standing at the Hogwarts gates now, waiting in impatience and anxiety to see her very ex-boyfriend so she could attempt to explain to him how absolutely bloody sorry she was for the things she'd said to him and the way she'd treated him.

She--it wasn't even the baby thing that had her here, although she couldn't get away admitting that hadn't been extra motivation. Actually, Ingrid didn't plan on saying anything about it if things didn't go well; if that was the case, she hadn't decided yet if she'd tell him at all, but she did know that she was definitely not telling him right then and there if he told her there was nothing left for them. It was just--stupid, stupid, she couldn't believe how unbelievably stupid she'd been lately with everything concerning Christian and bloody hell she really didn't know what she was going to do if he told her to get lost.

As she spotted a dark head of hair approaching her from the distance, her mouth suddenly went dry and everything she had prepared to say rushed from her head, leaving her standing there dumbly. Oh dear god, someone had just started the clock on what promised to be the worst afternoon of her life.

It would be a bit of an understatement to say that Christian was nervous. You couldn't really blame the poor bloke, seeing as how his last run-in with Ingrid had been decidedly disasterous. He'd spent the first week after their official breakup trying to wrap his mind around the complete rawness of his indignant frustration. It was during that time that she had owled to ask him to meet up with her in Hogsmeade again, and him, being the absolute sucker that he was, had agreed. What was he thinking? He'd never let a girl get to him like this. In a completely Ravenclaw assessment of his current situation, he was being a tosser. Afterall, once something had been given a proper ending, it was finished. That was logic.

But there was a completely illlogical side of him that was telling him that maybe it wasn't over. Maybe the finality in Ingrid's words had been a misinterpretation on his part, therefore ensuring that their relationship had never really ended. But that was stupid. Really bloody stupid, which was what he had grumbled at himself for over an hour, even as he got himself ready to go and see her anyway.

He sighed, nervously running the pad of his thumb over the rolled cigarette he held between his middle and fore fingers, expelling smoke from his nostrils as his eyes scanned the never-ending sea of Hogwarts uniforms. Hopefully today would go better. At the very least they could at least come to an agreement that what they'd had wasn't a complete waste of time, right? Because he highly doubted that 'staying friends' was really an option for them. Or was it?

Berating himself for being such a nancy, he took his anger at himself out of his fag and threw it hastily to the floor with a grunt of disgust. When he looked up, however... there she was. Looking just as fucking gorgeous as she always did, god help him. Gulping harshly, he jammed his hands into his jean pockets and finally closed the distance between them, offering a sheepish, uncertain grin. It was obvious that he was nervous about this, but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes from her face. "...Hey, Ing."

It was a good thing that he had taken the leap and spoken first, because otherwise they may have been standing there for a very long time in silence, just staring at each other. His voice, however, managed to snap Ingrid out of the cold rush of fear she'd just felt at seeing him and pick her stomach up off the floor; he sounded nervous, but the sound of his voice to her ears was as warming and comforting as it always had been. Merlin's beard, she was ridiculously crazy for him, how had she managed to fuck everything up so royally?

"Hey," she answered back, forcing up a shaky smile. "I... thanks for coming." In her voice it was evident that when she said thanks, she meant thanks all the way. She knew very well that it was a whole lot of luck on her part that he had even considered looking at her again, especially after their last meeting had crashed and burned so terribly.

Ingrid crossed her arms over her chest and nodded over to one of the benches sitting along the streets of Hogsmeade. "Want to sit, maybe? I think... well, it's not a normal thing for me, to blatantly apologize to a person, so if you want to faint in shock, might as well be sitting." The joke was awkward due to her nervousness, but it was about the best she could do at keeping the mood friendly.

He managed a weak upward tilt of his mouth at her joke, shrugging as he made his way towards the bench she had indicated with her in tow. "Well, I was a little surprised. By your letter, I mean. I just didn't think that you'd..." He cut himself off and glanced awkwardly around before bringing his gaze back to her face, letting it linger on her eyes for a moment before he sighed and shook his head. "To tell you the truth, I wanted to apologize too. Some of the things I said... I shouldn't have said them."

He carefully lowered himself down onto the bench, his suddenly moist palms wiped slowly down the fronts of his jeans. Why was this so nerve-wracking? Things seemed to be going well so far. Or as well as they could be expected to, he supposed. Clearing his throat, he forced himself to lean back against the back of the bench, his teeth worrying at the inside corner of his lip.

Ingrid couldn't help it but to let her eyes widen a bit as he said he had wanted to apologize as well. That was... unexpected, and while it should have made her feel better, it only made her heart clench with guilt. It just went to prove what a good person he was, that he was apologizing when he hadn't done anything wrong. The only thing he'd done wrong was saying he was sorry now, and she closed her eyes tightly and shook her head against it.

"How can you---don't apologize to me, please." Her voice was a quiet plea, and she looked back up at him, eyes full of guilt and upset to be hearing him saying that. "You didn't do anything, like you said a million times before, and whatever you might have said to me that you want to take back I probably deserved a thousandfold." A hand went back and ran through her hair and she took a deep breath. "I need to apologize, I should be bloody begging at your feet to forgive me because I've been an absolute idiot and beyond terrible to you and fuck, Christian, you're the last person that deserved all the shit I gave you.

"I was upset--and I'm not making excuses, I swear--and I was wrong to take what happened out on you when it was so evident that none of it was your fault and I'm so sorry that it was only after all of that that I realized that I can barely manage to live with myself knowing that I'd driven you away." Ingrid felt like she had rambled out that last sentence very quickly, but there was so much that she wanted to say to him, so much that she needed him to hear, that she was afraid if she didn't say it all now, the words were going to leave her again.

His own surprise was equally evident as she pleaded with him; he opened his mouth to argue with her, to tell her that was ridiculous, but she spoke right over him. And so he sat back and he listened, his brows slowly creasing above the intense stare of his dark eyes that was focused so intently on hers. He found that he didn't much like this apology as much as he thought he would. Never in a million years had he imagined that Ingrid had felt so much guilt about what had happened... he had assumed that she was incapable of the emotion, to be quite honest. She was just such a shameless thing, carefree and wild... so very unlike him, that it was strange and upsetting to see her so twisted over the results of her own actions.

Her last sentence, spoken so quickly that he almost didn't catch them, drew a sigh from him, a subtle slump of his shoulders. It was relief. The release of tension he hadn't even realized that had been building since she first started speaking. Looking away from her face so that he could regain some clarity, he stared down at the ground by his feet before he spoke again, his voice hushed and sincere. "I shouldn't have left. Back in Diagon. I completely lost it. I never do that." He drew a deep breath and looked at her, a small, wry smile gracing his features. "You just know how to drive a bloke completely crazy, don't you?" It was said playfully, a hopeful lift of his brows offered as he tentatively reached out to smooth down some of the disheveled strands of her hair left in the wake of her raking fingers. "I missed you, Ing. I really did."

She shook her head lightly, looking away from him as well. "No, I would have lost it way before you did--I mean, I'm not you, and I've got a huge temper, but... I was being ridiculous, I should probably give you a bloody award for dealing with it as long as you did," she said, her tone playful but with an inescapable undertone of seriousness. When Ingrid turned her gaze back to Christian again, feeling the tingle of his touch that she had missed so desperately, her only thought was that this man must be some kind of saint. To put up with her, to forgive her after everything that had happened, to be apologizing and finding his own fault in things although he had none... that was the only explanation; he was some kind of damn saint. Had to be.

"I missed you too," she answered back instantly, wondering wildly at how this had turned out well. She had thought for sure that he was going to tell her to get lost, that he didn't have the time or patience left to deal with some crazy, hotheaded girl that didn't know what she had until she'd lost it. Just in the realization that he hadn't, Ingrid reached out and pressed her face into his neck, wrapping her arms around him in a fierce embrace. "Merlin's fucking beard, you don't know how much."

She didn't let go for a while, trying to drink in this moment because it was the best that she'd felt in over a month now, but slowly, surely, reality began to eat away at the daydream-like state that she was in. Ingrid tensed just noticably as she remembered what she had decided upon... she had to tell him, she had to tell him about--fuck. Well, at least she'd gotten one good moment of bliss in.

He was quick to wrap her arms around her when she suddenly threw herself against him, relishing in the sensation of her body against his after going so long without it. His fingers idley played with the tips of her hair, winding in the golden strands as he inhaled the scent of her shampoo. He had hoped that this was how it would turn out, but hadn't honestly expected it. But now that they were here and she was in his arms, he would have been all to content to remain like this for the rest of his life. So what if she was a silly girl who jumped to conclusions and had a temper like a harpy and a vernacular to match? He was willing to forgive all of that just to be able to hold her and kiss her. Going for so long without it had almost driven him crazy.

The flinch of her body as it tensed caught his attention, drawing him from his blissful thoughts. Concern laced his voice as he gently pushed her from where her face was burrowed against his throat, continuing to hold her but only now so that he could look down into her face. "Alright?" he asked softly. She suddenly looked rather pale. "Are you feeling ok?"

He had noticed her hesitation--somewhere she'd hoped that he wouldn't, but she knew that she'd been obvious once all her thoughts had come back to her. At least now, as she listened to his quiet, concerned tones and was forced to stare into his face, she knew that she wasn't going to be able to get away with backing out at the last second. She couldn't lie to those eyes, not about something this big, and--she felt guilty for the second time today, because they had just been happy a second ago and now she was going to be the one who brought that crashing to the ground. She felt dread creep up on her too, now, as she realized how horrible this was going to look; she didn't want to make up with him because of this, but she knew that's exactly what it was going to look like.

"I actually--" She untangled herself from him, pretty sure that he wasn't so much going to want to hug her after this. "Before we get too cozy, I think I owe you... I think you should know something. And--" Ingrid glanced around, making sure that there was no one within hearing range; the last thing she needed was for this to get out to the whole Hogwarts population. "--I'm so sorry, first off, I didn't know if I was going to tell you this because I don't want us--I didn't want this to affect this--" She hopelessly motioned with her hands to the air around them, indicating their talk in some awkward way. "And I--fuck, I--this is--I didn't--" Ingrid gave up explaining, sighed deeply and leaned in just slightly, lowering her suddenly apprehensive, distressed voice a great deal so that only he could hear.

"I'm pregnant, Christian."

There. She had said it, it was out of her system... yet somehow she didn't feel any better than she had before.

He let her wrestle herself out of his embrace with some obvious reluctance, her sudden shift in behavior concerning him quite a bit. Of course, her hesitant stumbling only left room for his imagination to fill in the blanks: she had slept with someone else while they were apart. Or maybe her parents had found out about them afterall and had forbidden her from ever seen him again. Not like that would keep her from sneaking out to see him every chance she got, he thought with an inward smirk. But this was no time to be joking around; that much was made evident by the way she was already apologizing for whatever it was. He was now officially freaked out.

He leaned towards her, rolling his tongue nervously over his bottom lip before capturing it between his teeth. What the hell was this all ab-

Oh.

He froze, those three whispered words serving to send a jolt through his entire frame. It was like a forbidden curse. He was sure it had killed him, because his heart had completely stopped beating. But then it started right back up again, but it was pumping way too fast, and the saliva had completely gone from his mouth and the color went from his face and he looked about ready to faint. He slowly leaned away from her, looking for all the world like a man living a nightmare before he tilted back towards her, his voice cracking slightly under all the stress. "...What? I-I mean.... what?" This was certainly not what he had expected. He almost wished it was something else, because what could be worse than this? Running both hands over his face, he pulled at the corners of his lips, turned his eyes skywards, then ever so slowly let those dark orbs roll back to regard her.

"...You're...sure?"

Ingrid swallowed harshly and balled the fabric of her skirt in her fists, not finding it hard to focus her eyes on the ground and away from the shock--and what she reckoned were probably several other emotions that she would be better off not seeing--on his face. She hadn't thought his reaction would be good, but that didn't mean she wanted to see it. She could hear enough of it in his voice to make things sufficently painful.

"I'm sure," she answered. "I wasn't feeling well and Greta was with me, I took a... It was blue. Like, you know... for a--for a boy."

She pursed her lips together and took a deep, shuddering breath as she turned her gaze upwards to the clouds above them. "I know that we were never... but somehow I never expected that I could--never thought about it, and that's the problem. And lately I've had a lot of time to do that thinking... after the fact, to think about what's going to happen, what I'm going to..." Ingrid closed her eyes and then opened them again, finally turning to regard his face, apology written all over her features. "I don't want to derail your life, but... I'm not going to get rid of it, so--so I don't know. I guess what I'm saying is, if you don't want anything to do with it or me, then that's up to you. It's not fair to you and I won't--I'm not going to hold it against you."

It hurt terribly to say that, but she meant it. The last thing she wanted was him staying with her or taking care of a child out of obligation. She wanted to be that girl that gave him the choice, because she knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself otherwise, and because she knew that there was no way that Christian was ready emotionally for this, nor financially--of course, she was in a worse boat than he was, still being in bloody school and all, but as much as she told herself that this situation was half his fault too, it had been her decision to keep it. He shouldn't have to live with a decision she'd made, and even though she didn't know what in the hell she'd do if he didn't want to, even though she wanted more than anything to have him there. He shouldn't have to live with a decision she'd made alone.

Blue. A boy? Oh christ. He grimaced and promptly leaned forward and pressed his face into his palms, digging his palms against his tightly screwed eyelids. Merlin, how did this- well, no, he knew exactly how this had happened. But this was the last bloody thing he ever expected. Hadn't things just been going miraculously well less than a minute ago?! Her voice was like a dull hum in the background of his rapid thought process, her words not really registering. It wasn't that he was intentionally trying to ignore her, of course... it was that he was incapable of processing anything right now.

He was silent for a long time before he rose again to lean back against the back of the bench, gathering what little was left of his composure so that he could manage to look at her again. "Christ, Ing," he grumbled, his throat feeling suddenly very tight. What was he supposed to say? There was no way that he could just abandon her. He knew what it was like to grow up without a father, and it had been bloody awful. And his dad hadn't even been given a choice like he did. So how could he do that to his kid?

The simple answer of it was, he couldn't.

Of course he was a bit taken aback by her adamant decision to keep it.. but he just nodded, looking deflated and scared out of his bloody mind. "Alright," he croaked, tearing his gaze from her again and staring down at his trembling fingers, which he promptly hid by folding his arms across his chest. "I couldn't let you do this by yourself. It was... it was both of us, yea? And..." He took a deep, shuddering breath nervously began to bounce his knee. "I'm in. I'll do... whatever I can."

Oh god. He'd knocked up a girl who was still in school. His mum was going to murder him. Her parents were going to castrate him and then kill him! He suddenly felt even more nauseous.

This time around, Ingrid did watch Christian's reactions, the changes in his face and all his nervous movements, because the answer she was waiting for him to mutter out was basically going to affect the next seventeen or so years of her life. It wasn't like it would be easy either way that it went, but to have him around and involved would still have meant the world in so many ways.

Merlin's beard, the next seventeen years. That was her whole lifetime up to this point! So for another one of her lifetimes, her life was going to be devoted entirely to someone else--holy hell, how old would she be then? Thirty four, thirty five? No matter how many times she thought that number over in her head, she couldn't quite fathom the reality of it all. But still, as terrifying as that all was, she couldn't bring herself to just--to get rid of this baby. It seemed wrong in so many ways, to end an innocent life just because it was unexpected and highly inconvenient; her parents hadn't raised her to believe in things like that. You lived with your mistakes, even if they were this huge and this life-altering. She had just never imagined that all the times they'd preached that to her, that she'd actually have to be in a situation to follow it.

Ingrid exhaled a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding as the man beside her finally spoke, and nodded. "Okay... okay, I--" She realized that she really shouldn't have expected anything else from Christian, but when you were laying up in your dorm room, staring at the top of a crimson-covered four-poster and thinking about things for hours on end, all the what-ifs seemed to like to take over your mind and push out rationality. But Jesus, she was so relieved that he wasn't running away. "Thank you." She leaned back into the bench and wondered why, even though the hard part was over, that she had suddenly lost her ability to speak again. Ingrid ran her hands over her face and breathed out shakily. "I--really... you don't even... just--thank you. And I... I'm sorry."

She shook her head several times, pushing her palms against her closed eyelids and muttered the apology over and over, apparently lost in a state of her own despairing thoughts. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." This really was the last thing she had wanted to have to tell him.

He watched her; he wasn't even sure how to comfort her or draw her from the depression that she seemed to be succumbing to. How could he be of much help when he was feeling the same thing? When all he wanted to do was run away? He tentatively reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, sliding it back until it rested at the back of her neck, where he forced his fingers to squeeze in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. Her apologizing wasn't helping him at all. If anything, it was making him feel even worse. Why was she apologizing? Bloody hell, he should never have let her drag him into that hotel room in the first place. What had he been thinking, shagging a teenager? Lot of bloody good it'd done the both of them. He'd ruined her damn life, and his own too for that matter.

A soft shushing noise came from him almost of its own accord, and with numb arms he reached out and drew her against him, burying his lips against her hair; where once the scent of her comforted him, now it only served to engorge his growing feelings of guilt. "We'll think of something," he muttered, a sudden thought dawning on him. "Do... I mean, your parents, you didn't tell them, did you?"

The feeling of his arms around her, while no solution to anything, was still some sort of relief in and of itself. Greta and Eliza could hug her and let her cry as much as they wanted, but she had never felt any degree of actual comfort until it was him. It may have been because half of the crying she'd done in the past month had been about him and how he wasn't around, but Ingrid also knew it had something to do simply with his presence. She didn't feel better about what had happened in the least, but she at least felt... not as scared? No, she was still terrified as ever, but there was something good there in that embrace. Even if she couldn't describe it, she could still feel it very distinctly, and whatever it was finally shushed her voice. Her arms went around him, tightly, hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt like it would kill her to let go.

Ingrid shook her head against his chest at the question. Hah, tell her parents? Not before she had to--and she knew it would just get worse and worse the longer she waited, but she had no idea how she was going to tell them yet. They were going to throw a fit, a big fit, because Catchlove girls didn't do this kind of stuff and--and they didn't even know about Christian, which was just going to be another strike against her. 'How did you get pregnant?' 'Oh, this older man I've been dating who I never told you about.' She could see it in her mind right now--that was going to go over really well.

"No, I... Greta and Eliza--my friend--they're the only ones that know. My parents, they--I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know what I'm going to say. I don't know what they're going to do."

He grimaced. Christ. This was just getting worse, wasn't it? How the hell was she planning on telling her parents? Did that mean that... he had to go with her? He groaned against her hair and muttered a few choice swearwords under his breath, his panic rising to new levels. It was only after he had reminded himself that he had just agreed to stick with her that he spoke again, his voice low and shaky. "Well... how... I mean... fuck, Ingrid. I can't exactly see you keeping this a secret very long, can you? I don't even know how long you've got until... you know..." He reached down and kind of poked her stomach gently with his finger. However, it was hardly a playful gesture. There was nothing short of terror in his expression.

"And what about school?" he asked suddenly, pulling back so that he could meet her gaze. It was clear that it was a subject that made him uncomfortable; when they were together, it was usually easy for him to conveniently forget that what they were doing was technically wrong. But now there it was, glaring him in the face. She was a student. A pregnant student.

She was surprised when he poked her stomach, but instantly got a sick feeling from the gesture. Nothing that he'd done physically, but it reminded her that there was a--a person in there and--oh jesus, she'd barely even thought so far about that whole thing about how it'd be growing and this was so not right, she wasn't meant to be a mum at all because now she was worrying about what he had just said about--how long did it take to start showing? She and Greta were the youngest in the family, so it wasn't like she had any siblings to go off of and it wasn't like she sat around and thought about this kind of stuff prior to now and she was going to absolutely fail at this, oh this poor child.

"I---I've only got a couple months left of school, so I don't know," she answered, pulling away just a little to look at him. "Maybe I'll be able to hide it until then, I mean from everyone at Hogwarts. I have to finish school, I mean I can't just quit. I have to finish school now, I can't just not and then expect to support a---" Child. She didn't want to say it aloud. "Even if everyone does find out, I've... No, I've got to finish. I've got to get a job."

He didn't bother by expressing his doubts concerning how well she'd be able to hide her pregnancy from her peers. Teenagers were cruel, and in Hogwarts it seemed like secrets never stayed secrets for very long. But he knew that she couldn't stop going, and so nodded and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her brow. "Alright," he mumbled, his Ravenclaw-worthy brain sifting carefully through all the facts regarding their unfortunate situation. "So you go to school... try and keep it hidden for as long as possible... graduate... and then..." He made a sort of grunting noise under his breath. "And then we'll have to tell your parents."

He let his dark orbs float upwards to stare at the sky, a thoughtful crease appearing between his brows. "While you're in school I'll look for a new job. Or another job. I'll just... do something." How could he be expected to support a kid on the salary he made now? The simple fact of the matter was that he couldn't. This was already turning his world upside down.

She nodded along with him as he walked himself through everything that was going to happen. It sounded easier coming out of his mouth in such a logical fashion, like there wasn't so much complexity and chaos attached to it all. But the fact of the matter was that this was much more complex than it sounded now. It was going to take a whole hell of a lot of work, and it was going to properly turn their lives inside out. Still, she rather liked his logical approach. If she didn't think about everything else, it almost for a second made things feel like they could work out alright after all.

Ingrid glanced down at the watch on her wrist and frowned, looking back up to him. "I've got to go," she said. "I promised to meet my friends at the Three Broomsticks." She didn't actually want to leave now, because it seemed like there was so much more that they should be discussing, but maybe it was for the best that they left it there for today. Too much more of this talk and their brains might explode from being forced to think about the absolute craziness of it all.

Leaning forward, she kissed him softly on the lips, but there was a tentativeness in the action. "Thank you, though..." she said as she pulled back. "For coming. And for not... running away, or any of that. I don't know if I can say that enough, but--thank you."