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"It's a funny word, you know. Incest . Like... like it's something you're supposed to hide away, hang your head and hate yourself for something. Except that I don't."
Blunt finger-tips thrum against the tabletop in an agitated manner.
"I thought for sure mum'd gave a heart attack. I'm not joking, either. One little kiss and suddenly you're the next dark lord on the rise. I think that... now that I know what we know now... that I can understand why Perce ran like hell the moment he could. Why Bill pretty much never visited before he married Fleur, and after only when he can't avoid it. As long as you do what's expected of you you get to belong. The moment you don't, you're out in the cold. You only get to be the good son as long as you fit the mould. As long as you fit expectations."
He makes a face, rubs the bridge of his nose in clear agitation.
"And then there's me. Befriended the right people, married the right girl, got the right job... and then I disappoint mummy dearest by turning my back on that to help out at the shop, you know? Ruining my whole future. But... But I like it. No, I love it. I love my job. Love my wife. But you know that, don't you?"
He smiles, that gentle, fond smile that makes him look just like his father.
"I just... I just love him more."
The smile disappears, along with his gaze somewhere far in the distance. The proud man is gone, and there is just a lost young boy wanting to know how many days are left until daddy comes home from the fighting.
"I can't remember a time I didn't. When we played pretend as kids, Gin and me, I never told her what I really pretended. That I was his, really his. Without being afraid what mum would say."
Silence. He stirs a mug of tea which is long cold.
"I heard Perce say this one thing once. I thought he was high or something. Teddy-bear dictator." he laughs, but it's a brittle noise. "You know? Do what I want you to and I love you, the moment you rebel you're not welcome anymore. I remember that one time. I think he was drunk. Or maybe he was just at the end of his rope. He screamed it. Was standing right there, by the door." He makes a vague gesture, then his hand falls uselessly back to the table.
"teddy-bear dictator."
he laughs again, bitter.
"I wonder how bad she'd freak if she knew I spread my legs for him every night those two months in fourth year around the first task. Like... like we were carving out this little piece of the world that was ours. Something to remember when reality came back. Every night. Like animals. He couldn’t resist and I couldn't say no. Snape caught me sneaking out once. I thought I'd get detention. But he... he just looked at me like he'd never seen me before."
He laughs, this time incredulous.
"Two days later he had me stay behind in class, you remember that time? You thought I'd fucked up somehow, never seen you that pissed at me but I guess I deserved it. i was a complete jerk to you then. But... I knew that if anyone would figure shit out it'd be you and I couldn't let you know. Not that secret. It was my secret. Our secret."
Perhaps there is a question, but we don't hear it.
"Oh, he just wanted to know if I was using contraceptives and then he lectured me for five minutes straight about the dangers of incestous relationships in general and hyperfertile ones in particular and sent me back to the dorms with some protection he'd made himself. And advice on a herb in the woods that could... take care of any consequences. I used to hate him, you know. thought he was the meanest bastard I'd ever met. In a way, he was. Maybe he had to be. But he... he understood things. And I don't think he ever in his life, at least as an adult, judged anyone for anything."
Silence. a lost look enters his eyes.
"I... I used that herb. Later. You thought I had the flu. You nursed me for five days. And I hated myself. I couldn't tell you, I was so damn scared. Part of me wants to ask you to forgive me, but I don't deserve to ask that. So I won't. I... You know I love you, right?"
His gaze turns pleading. His fingers thrum against the table again, agitated.
"Please" he whispers, his voice barely audible.
"Please. Don't... Don't tell Charlie."
He looks so lost. So impossibly young. The boy he was once.
"Don't... please don't tell him I killed our baby."
The screen turns dark.