Year/Job
The Quibbler
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Two words about furniture: KILLING MACHINES |
Travis
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Post by Theodore Platt on Apr 12, 2015 12:34:42 GMT -8
The day Theodore realized that he’d grown to trust the people around him, he decided that it was time to leave Belize. There was a time when he would drop anyone for laying a finger on him, but now he was trusting strangers to give him back massages, totally exposed to attack. That was the effect Anya had on him. Theodore spent his whole life worried about staying alive. Anya made him feel safe, or at least she made him forget about staying alive, just enjoy the moment. He had quit resisting her a long time ago, that night so many months ago when they’d shared a drink in her hotel room. Miss Quinn, he had called her then.
Returning wasn’t only Theodore’s decision. The time away had left both of them out of shape, and with the new Quidditch season rapidly approaching, Anya had to make a decision about her future with Puddlemere. Theodore hoped that she would hang it up, reserve herself to a life more personal. But that was kind of the thing about Anya. She wasn’t like the other women he had protected. Opheliya was timid, she wouldn’t want a public life, and Piper talked to birds. That’s hardly relevant but I couldn’t think of any other things Piper did but take life advice from birds in dreams. The point is that Anya was dangerous, and though Theodore wasn’t matching wits with Archie Larkin anymore, Anya’s chaotic life provided Theodore with plenty of challenges. He wouldn’t admit it, but it was exciting following her back to Britain, doubling (tripling?) as her husband, body guard, and publicist.
Going home also meant going public with their relationship. Any privacy Anya might have had disappeared when she became the face of Puddlemere United. She had been under a tabloid microscope for the better part of five years now, it was one of the reasons they had decided to elope. Theodore wanted to be with Anya, that was true, but he didn’t want the attention that it would bring. He hadn’t published a single article at the Quibbler under his own name. Despite hundreds of devoted readers, they were all following Frank Miller, not Theodore Platt. As far as Theo was concerned, he wasn’t just off the radar, there never even was a radar to begin with. One of Theodore’s greatest fears was that Anya was the ultimate leverage to get to him. That was the problem with falling in love—it made him feel so weak. “We’ve always just had each other,” Theodore said. “We don’t need anyone else. Why ruin what we have?”
Their privacy didn’t stop the tabloids from talking. It was hard not to miss the old, hard-partying Anya, and the new beau who seemed to follow her around wherever she went. Theodore was there for every match, every Puddlemere related event. There were rumors of Anya settling down in Bournemouth with her handsome stranger. Together, Anya and Theodore had found a way to make it work. They could continue their old lives while also moving forward together as a married couple, their secrecy in tact.
Maybe things started to change with the Gable marriage. Anya never said anything, it was just one of those things he could sense. They hadn’t had a real wedding like Lawrence and Brielle, and though they were happy, he wondered if Anya was missing that part of their marriage. Theodore couldn’t shake this terrible feeling like he had denied Anya something that every girl dreamed up from their childhood. First he told himself that Anya knew what she was doing when she married him, she knew that there would have to be sacrifices. But after a while, even he began to feel a little envy toward the Gable union. It was an odd feeling, Theodore was in love with Anya and he figured that was all that should matter. But the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to share his love for Anya to the world. Was it pride that made him feel this way? Certainly he was proud to have a passionate, caring, and beautiful woman like Anya. Sometimes he caught himself staring at his hand, staring at the wedding ring that wasn’t on his finger.
For their anniversary they spent the weekend away at the hotel where everything had begun. Checked in under the false name “Mr. and Mrs. Keller,” their fake identities once used to protect Anya from a number of dangers including the magic police, was now a playful reminder of the old days. Theodore had proposed, more or less, in the very same room two years ago. It wasn’t a traditional proposal then, more like a drunken suggestion that both had taken far too seriously. Theodore had always considered himself a man of his word, especially when his word was to a lady. For Theodore, a drunken promise was a very serious thing.
They stood outside on the balcony, looking across the London skyline. Theodore said, “I didn’t just bring you here because of the significance of the date,” he turned to see Anya’s face, felt a lump in his throat like the words were fighting their way back down. “I wanted tonight to be meaningful. I never thought of myself as a husband, Anya, I never thought I could do this. But it’s something about you that drives me completely crazy. I guess I’ve learned in the last couple years that there’s no point in living if you don’t have someone else to share your life with. I know I’m betraying everything that I used to believe in, but I just don’t care anymore.”
Theodore’s hand came down to rest on Anya’s, his free one digging into his pocket. He pulled out the engagement ring and carefully slid it onto her finger. “Mrs. Platt, the former Miss Quinn,” he continued. “It would be the greatest honor if you would marry me. I want to give you a real wedding, with your family, and your friends. And Witch Weekly if they feel the need to crash it. I know it’s dangerous, but I’m ready. I want the world to know how we feel about each other, and if my enemies should take notice, then I’ll double my efforts to keep us safe. But I feel that this means too much to keep locked away in the secrecy of our home. So what do you think? Will you marry me?”
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