bess d. fawcett (bestzeller) wrote in valesco,
@ 2009-12-25 23:34:00

Entry tags:

Drystan!
She was finding men to be quite useless, or at least, terrible at doing things for themselves.

She and Sadie had dropped by Drystan's flat to drop off some cookies her daughter had been very proud of along with some presents for Stephen, and found that the place was completely void of Christmas decorations. How could he have not decorated for Stephen? For himself! It was Sadie that asked where the tree was, and after a few hours of struggling and order giving (by Sadie! Definitely not by Bess), there was some sort of Christmas cheer going on in the place.

Bess stretched to latch a red ornament to a high branch, wondering how on earth Drystan had thought it would be all right not to decorate when you had a child. Maybe he still wasn't used to the idea of being a father, but still. She also had no idea when she'd found herself comfortable enough with the man to nearly demand they go and purchase a tree, but---that's what friends did. Plus, Sadie really adored Drystan, and she would be going on and on about how sad his flat looked if Bess didn't do something about it.

Right.

Well---she liked decorating the muggle way, because that's what her father had always insisted on when they were growing up, so he could be involved. Bess didn't particularly care for her father anymore, but she did value traditions, and that was what Christmas was all about. She caught sight of Drystan as he entered the living room, and Bess dropped down to her feet, thrusting the ornament out to him, "Tall person. Come here and help."

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brythonichero
2009-12-28 06:26 am UTC (link)

To say that his life had turned topsy-turvy in the last month was a gross understatement. From the eldest son of a happy, whole family, leading the unassuming life of a Quidditch playing bachelor, Drystan was now playing father to his youngest sister and his nephew. Penelope, at least, was contented by money and the pretense of independence, but Stephen…

Well, to say Drystan wouldn't have the foggiest idea of what to do about Stephen, without the help of Bess, would be a gross understatement, too. He supposed it was helpful that Bess had raised her own child before this, and had a rough idea of what to expect with a baby boy, but it was less her expertise Drystan sought, than her company. And while he didn't feel that Bess remained through duplicitous means on his part, he did not find anything wrong with occasionally asking for her assistance or advice, as if to remind her that her constant attention towards him was needed.

Decorating for Christmas had been the last thing on his mind, largely due to the fact that Drystan had not even realized the holiday was around the corner. It was part of a defense mechanism, he supposed, wherein he tried not to think of anything family-related, since it was much too painful for him to even bear the thought of. But seeing Sadie's pouting, hopeful face, however, robbed him of any ability to say no, which he was certain her mother had been secretly hoping for.

After making sure Stephen was securely tucked into his bassinet, lulled into a sound sleep by the dulcet tones of Drystan and Bess's incessant bickering over which tree was the right one to bring home, he emerged from the newly-converted nursery with an amused expression on his face, taking the offered ornament.

"I'm beginning to believe the only relevance I have in this holiday scheme of yours is strength," since, naturally, he'd been lifting and pushing and otherwise situating the tree to the blonde's liking, "and height, since you insist on doing things the Muggle way." He tossed the ornament in the air, studying both the best branch to place it on, and the blonde beside it.

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bestzeller
2009-12-28 11:54 pm UTC (link)

"You mean more to me than that," Bess retorted with a quick roll of her eyes, and she immediately realized the serious connotations of that statement. She kept his gaze for a moment, as darting her eyes away immediately would make it look as if she was embarrassed. Which, she was, but she certainly did not want to look that way. Bess wasn't sure herself what she'd meant, but it could only lead to trouble if she pursued the thoughts.

Molly Weasley thought they were dating, she and Drystan. It was a very awkward conversation to have, bickering with your dead ex-boyfriend's sister about how you are not nor will you ever be snogging the ridiculously handsome, kind quidditch star that invites you over to his flat all the time. Bess refused to acknowledge anything that may remotely sound like evidence any sort of feelings outside of friendship she may have been growing for Drystan, even if Molly was able to see right through her lies.

Bess knew, and so did Molly she believed, that no matter how hard she and Fabian had tried, they had never gotten it right. Not to say that they didn't both try, desperately, but one of them always ended messing everything up and...somehow, in the late night talks Bess and Molly had been having in the kitchen of the Burrow, they'd both reconciled with the fact that they had not been meant to be.

...Wow. Bess blinked and looked toward the tree, hoping to find a spot for Drystan to place the ornament to get out of this awkward state she'd found herself in. She hated that he made her question every move she made, and it was all because she didn't want him to think strangely of her. She shouldn't care! Bess did not---she did not need a boyfriend, or--the men in her life were always only good for inducing headaches, so why the thoughts of snogging Drystan all the bloody time kept surfacing in her mind made absolutely no sense.

"Right there," she said, jabbing a finger at a high branch, stepping back. Bess locked her eyes on the branch, crossing her arms in a poor attempt to rid her mind of the insanely fast flurry of thoughts that had hit her. "Don't drop it."

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