read all about it | renard

[Ondina Nell Weasley]

i dare you.

march 15th 2026

THE STACK OF NEWSPAPERS WERE HEAVY IN Ondina's slim, weak arms as she juggled them alongside a magicked shopping bag. Her face red from the mild exertion as she threw open the front door and rushed inside, heels clacking as she rushed through the dimly lit hallway in search of her husband-to-be. "Renard!" She very nearly screeched, dumping the shopping bag by the kitchen door and throwing the stack of newspapers on to the first countertop.

"Merlin- Get in here!" She called out of the door, grabbing one of the papers and breathing a little heavy from just the excitement of it all. Ondina had been determined to have her wedding announced with great fanfare, her mind wandering aimlessly back to that brief encounter with Grey Slater - in all his bitter glory. How he'd been sure she couldn't get a spread, maybe a footnote if she were lucky. Well, he'd certainly been shown, she thought. Reminding herself, as she straightened up the pile of Daily Prophet newspapers, to send one specifically to him when she found a moment.

Pouring herself a glass of filtered water, Ondina opened the first paper to the announcement, her picture spread wide under the headline. Though it gave her pause, she expected nothing less. Grey had been right, there was no reason for a wedding to be spread across the Daily Prophet. However, there was news in Blishwick's Matchmaking. Ondina's excitement soured slightly, but not a lot. Her picture soothed the slight just a little bit. Over her shoulder, she heard Renard enter the room. "Take a look at this." She slapped him on the chest with it, the paper crinkling as she slid past him to grab another for herself. "Do we get a discount on the match for advertising for him?" She drawled spitefully. 

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The absolute silence that typically filled the flat when its second inhabitant wasn’t inside it was potentially what Shangri-La was supposed to be. Pure, blissful, quiet. Aside from a tick-tock of an expensive grandfather clock he’d inherited from a deceased and independently wealthy uncle years ago, there was nothing. That made the click of the lock on the front door that much easier to hear, and Renard needed it that way. Because Ondina lived here, she had permissions through the magical barriers that had been put up by him when he first purchased the unit. Anyone else attempting to unlock the door, even his sister, would have triggered an alarm for him, albeit a fairly innocuous one. It functioned similar to a muggle’s security system sending a notification to their phone. That was the best way he could describe it when others asked what he used for home protection. But Ondina was allowed in without all of that and he hadn’t yet figured out a way to alter his charms to get it to still activate for her without tipping her off. He didn’t need an earful for that too on top of the rest of the shit she brought back home every day.

What he had been doing before she decided to come home (he still sometimes wished she would just fuck off and disappear forever, but that clearly hadn’t happened yet) was polishing an intricate set of self-floating gold orbs that had the ability to determine the temperature outside without any assistance. The only reason he had them was because they looked fancy and fit with the décor, and they functioned as an interesting conversational topic if anyone asked. But that also meant that he had to go through the process of polishing his balls, which the act alone had him begrudgingly doing because of how it was disseminated in his brain.

Those immature thoughts were dashed when the front door handle clicked and opened, his name quickly following it. Her screech was unbearable, though he’d lived his entire life hearing his mother screaming it out for the stupidest shit. ‘Renard! You won’t amount to anything in your career so just train trolls with me instead’, ‘Renard! Where’s your father’s golden plunger award he won for excellent janitorial work at the Ministry’, ‘Renard! Stop telling the house elves that I like my socks dyed pink!’ He had more than a lifetime of her incessant bellowing, and sometimes wished the old cow would accidentally get clubbed to death by one of her equally dullard security trolls. The gap in their IQ was not very far from one another, and he’d made sure to let her know that from the second he realized it. Unfortunately for him, his betrothed wasn’t an idiot. That didn’t stop her from screaming his name though. Most likely, one of these days Ondina would realize that he was immune to that sort of psychological torture. That or she’d put herself into a coughing fit doing it. He could relish something like that happening. And he would only help once it looked like he could be implicated in her murder.

He very carefully put the temperature balls back into their levitated state, setting the polishing materials on the floor to avoid spillage because there was no telling what objects could be launched in his direction if she was in a mood today. The screaming of his name and demands to enter the main room were fairly typical for day to day behavior, and it didn’t seem yet like anything was out of the ordinary. He realized how disturbing it was that he could tell that already, but there were worse women out there he could be hitched to. Somehow.

As he entered the kitchen, he spotted Ondina getting a glass of water and a pile of newspapers sitting on the counter. One of which was shoved into his hands as he approached her from behind. Across the page was a moving photograph of them with their engagement announcement. Much more fanfare than he really cared for, and with his head missing completely from the picture. Work was going to be fun tomorrow.

“I think he’s amenable enough for that,” Renard said stiffly. “Didn’t know you were such a penny-pincher though. Took you for more of a gold digger, believe it or not,” he added sarcastically as he read through the article that had been written under the photograph. The date for the wedding was mentioned in it, and a blurb from Blishwick at the end wrapped it all up nicely. The fact that he hadn’t been asked for a comment and his face was missing entirely was hilarious. If that didn’t scream sham or shotgun, he didn’t know what did. “You did a bang-up job getting them to write this much. Can almost convince myself that we look happy in that photo.” He couldn’t believe that Ondina actually knew how to smile without her fake, porcelain face from breaking into millions of tiny pieces. That was maybe the most shocking part of the article.

Flipping through the other pages of the paper, he didn’t see anything else mentioning either of their names, and paused only momentarily on the Quidditch scores to note that there was nothing newsworthy there either. “So, dear,” he said, forcing out the word in the most unnatural way possible, “One month left. We’ll have to visit Blishwick to get the prenuptials in order and I’ll need to rearrange my will in case of untimely death. Anything else I’m missing?” And by rearrange, he meant making sure she didn’t get any of his inheritance in his stead once he died. That sort of thing was supposed to be split between himself and Bryelle evenly upon the demise of their parents. He didn’t really give a damn about the current money in his Gringotts vault, because that was basically petty change to play around with. He was pretty sure that Ondina didn’t know there was a difference yet. Getting all of his ducks in a row prior to the wedding was important, and his sister was absolutely getting the Goyle treasury over his bride-to-be.

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[Ondina Nell Weasley]

i dare you.

march 15th 2026

RETRIEVING HER GLASS OF WATER ONDINA cringed at the damp condensation gathering on the glass as she grasped it. Despite this, she took a careful sip without leaving a lipstick print on the rim, rolling her eyes at her fiancé's dull reply. He was without inspiration, she thought in judgement. "That may well be true," She countered with a sinister cheer. Closing the space between them with a new newspaper rolled in her other hand. As she passed him, her chin grazed his shoulder as she gave a sultry whisper, "But you had to buy yourself a wife." The word 'wife' wielded like a sharpened weapon, white  eye teeth catching on her bottom lip.

Ondina dragged a breakfast stool out with her ankle and perched on it, placed just behind where Renard read the article standing. She crossed one leg over the other, her foot rocking where it hung as she unrolled the newspaper and flipped to the article with one hand. The paper draped over her knee, eyes hungrily devouring every word over and over again. Nobody loved Ondina like Ondina loved Ondina. When Renard spoke again, she lifted her head, glass slippery in her fingers as she sneered at the back of his shoulder. "Aren't we... darling?" She replied just as quickly, uncrossing her leg briefly to poke the toe of her shoe into the back of his knee.

Renard was as sharp as he was dull voiced, each barb shrouded in that monotone drawl that was perfunctory for him. There was only two instances when Renard appeared remotely animated, chiefly when he was sparring with Ondina verbally. Even then, it was a bit of a stretch, leaving her looking for that typical stiffness in his shoulders. The working of a sculpted jaw that told her he was grinding his back teeth to dust. It was perhaps a little sick that she enjoyed it so much, her eyes carefully examining his profile as he spoke of boring prenuptials. Anything to keep his pockets lined.

"If I didn't know any better," Ondina sipped from her glass. "I'd think you were concerned about your well-being." Looking up at him through her lashes, there was a dangerous humour in the curl of her mouth as she pulled the glass away from her chin and cupped it in both hands. "I think you're missing a heart." She told him cheerfully. "Aren't you pleased you'll be a very rich man in a very short time?" She asked him, a genuine curiosity seizing her. Ondina couldn't decide which answer would make her happier, if he revealed his bitter misery, or if he enjoyed the prospect of a marriage signed in galleons. 

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“Plenty of men buy their wives.” What a great conversation this was. He despised that sort of thing but getting on his hands and knees and practically begging her to help him was honestly worse. Especially because an institution like Blishwick’s existed where all the work would have been done for him. That was a fatal error in his process here, and now it was too late. Getting rid of Ondina would be more difficult than marrying her and he couldn’t believe that was a thought that had crossed his mind more than once. Merlin, more than once today. He wanted to add that he was different than the muggle men that had mail-order brides, but was there actually a difference? If anything, this was closer to an arranged marriage than that. Renard simply didn’t know where the line was drawn between what he had done and how both of those typically played out.

Being happy in this situation was sort of hard to convince himself of. Simply existing near one another was honestly better than whatever his parents had done in their relationship, and that ended up making his and Bryelle’s relationship better as they grew up. United against the evil parental powers. Like hell he was going to ever have children with Ondina though. As disagreeable as he found kids, forcing them to have her as their mother would be child abuse in itself. He could not do that. “We are.” He felt the foot to the back of the knee but ignored it. Flipping the paper back around so that their photograph was on the front, he neatly laid it out on the counter. “On paper.”

The fact that she even responded the way she did is the reason he was updating his will. And that’s probably why she was saying it in the first place. To scare him into making stupid moves with his paperwork. Why did everything have to be such an exhausting game with her? “Yes, because I’m definitely doing it for the love,” he stated sarcastically, a smile to match. He already was a rich man. Weasley money meant nothing to him. As for missing a heart? That made two of them.

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[Ondina Nell Weasley]

i dare you.

march 15th 2026

ONDINA ROLLED HER EYES HEAVENWARD AND wondered once again why she bothered. "Is it like a club?" She drawled sarcastically, brows lifting into her hairline as she tilted her head to catch his eye before he turned his back on her. "I bet you all meet up once a month," She continued, almost cheery in her ribbing. "Discuss your terrible luck and share purchase receipts." It wasn't fair, Ondina knew exactly what she had signed up for. It was simply the complete lack of reaction from Renard, his dull expression something she often fought to wipe clean. It was like a game.

Turning the glass in her hands between sips, Ondina tried not to think of the condensation seeping into the pads of her fingertips. How they might feel once it had dried and she touched anything remotely dry. Instead, she picked upon her precious, blank slate of a fiancé. "You're so romantic," She told him with her batting lashes, her smile pulled and squeezed into something that could be misconstrued as fond. Sometimes, it stung a little. That he vehemently refused to love her. "Whatever did I do to deserve you?"

Slipping from her chair, Ondina cleared her throat and set the glass on a nearby counter. She didn't actually intend to kill him, but she often wondered if he thought that was a genuine possibility. This, especially, amused her to no end. Once close enough, Ondina slid her arms very carefully around Renard's suit clad waist. Her hair draped along one of his arms as she twisted her head to peer around his shoulder at him. The paper was splayed out before them, a different couple entirely. One hand slid up his chest and her fingertip pressed into his smarmy, smirking cheek. "Darling, I do wish you'd smile more." She softly declared, with that  same sharpened cheer. "It makes this whole charade, well... almost bearable." Ondina grinned up at him, shifting her face close enough to very delicately kiss his cheek. Her grip on his waist was perhaps just a little too constricting as she did, at odds with the soft press of her lips. It would take a lot more than a prenup to get her to let go. 

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"You didn't have to sign the paperwork." That was about as basic of an answer as he needed. Renard knew that she only did it because he begged her to and that it would be advantageous to her social and monetary well-being. His mistake was groveling like a fool. All it did was buy him this. Entertaining her quip only gave her more ammunition and showed that he was bothered by the outcome. The fees for breaking the contract would ruin him, and he wanted to make sure he had all of his ducks in a row before doing anything too careless. Ondina was conniving and intelligent. Playing the stupid, exhausted, dutiful husband on paper would suit him for a short period of time. At least until he was ready to go through with a divorce. Maybe it was idiotic to follow through with the wedding but it would check off the necessary boxes that his parents were requiring of him and then they would stop their nagging. It would work out for everyone in the end. Except maybe Ondina if he got his way.

If Ondina was the devil and he'd sold his soul to her, then whatever she'd done to become the way she was, was ten times worse. "I try my best," he responded dryly. Quite literally. Enough that he didn't squirm nearly as much as he initially did when this charade began. Keeping his composure when she put her python-like grip around him from behind was difficult because he knew she was dragging it out for her own pleasure. Every single second of it was part of the game after all. "Of course I smile. You're just always taking my breath away." And in this instance, her vice grip on his waist as she kissed his cheek was terrifying. Hopefully there was a support group for divorcees.

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[Ondina Nell Weasley]

i dare you.

march 15th 2026

ONDINA WONDERED IF RENARD ENJOYED ruining things. If he got some sick satisfaction from cutting off her taunts with his dry, severe lack of humour. Familiar in the way that she enjoyed teasing him, pressing and digging until she was embedded under his skin. She frowned at the back of his head, his words nipping at something unnamed inside of her. "Do you think I'm complaining?" She replied shortly, crossing the room towards him. "I know exactly what I'm doing." As if to remind him that for all she kicked and screamed, she had no intention of backing out.

Wrapping her arms around Renard, Ondina wondered briefly if this was what 'real' couples did. Though obviously with less cruel intentions. She thought it felt quite nice, though she squeezed a little too tightly. Affection was something Ondina could mimic to an almost searing perfection, but she often despised the act of it. Unless it was passionate, or filled with desire. This was different, she did it because she could, because she wanted to see how Renard would react. Her lips leaving a faint pink impression on the sharp plain of his cold cheek.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, watching his mouth move as he spoke with an animal fascination. "Sometimes," She muttered softly, almost musing as her arms gradually began to loosen their grip. "I wonder if you ever say exactly what you're thinking." She told him, lifting her chin and letting go with a sigh. His body was colder than hers, Ondina's potions and allergies made it so that her skin was often flushed with an almost sickly heat. She turned and very delicately pulled herself onto the counter beside their newspaper article, hands gripping the counters edge as she forced Renard to look at her. "Renard," She addressed him seriously, a crease between her brows. "Have you ever actually been in love?" 

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Renard kept his mouth shut. She was right. If she was complaining, this would have been a completely different encounter right now. One filled with a rage that brought on her fit of coughing. That was the only time where he felt he had real power, as pathetic as it was. Watching her struggle to get oxygen made her pitiable, if only
momentarily. In reality, it gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling that there was a way to stifle and defeat Ondina. All he had to do was literally take her breath away.

He barely reacted to her snake-like arm drapes anymore. She clearly wanted to elicit something from him, whether it was to run in fear when she started to squeeze or to counter with words that gave her a winning argument. There were magical beasts he'd dealt with that gave him a more difficult time than her now. The ironic part was that the depressive mood she brought into the home made him swear that she was actually part pogrebin. The two were freakishly similar, and at times he wished he was just dealing with the creature instead of her.

The kiss on his cheek made him recoil only slightly despite knowing she was going to do that. Her lips were unnaturally warm, in the sickly sense. But that also meant he was free for now. Maybe if he was into being degraded and choked constantly this would actually work out. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't. He looked up at her as she addressed him, now seated squarely on the counter. She asked such funny questions sometimes. Obviously she wasn't looking for his usual bullshit that he spewed, like how what they had going was 'love', or whatever. That was the easy way out and he knew he'd used that too many times to escape this conversation with it again. It worked perfectly in public but not while it was just the two of them.

"Love? No," he answered flatly. "When you've been raised to care more about your career and obligations than personal relationships, I suppose it's difficult to make the time for such a thing as love." He couldn't even think of there had ever been anything more than a boyhood crush here or there, and by the time he entered his latter years at school all of his attention became focused on exams and his future career. That didn't mean he wasn't completely devoid of what a brief relationship meant. But he'd never consider any of those as love. Which was probably why things never lasted. Go figure. "A hold over from the old Pureblood way of thinking, if you will."

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[Ondina Nell Weasley]

i dare you.

march 15th 2026

IN THE COMFORT OF THEIR MARITAL HOME THE two could almost be themselves. Ondina with her cold glee at duping the public. Renard with his flattened disdain for everything he deemed as 'other'. She had come to almost appreciate his brittle disposition, though it often irked her when she found it aimed in her direction. She didn't need his 'love', or his 'affection'. She had his name and the money from his inheritance. And yet, she was still left wanting. Like a part of her wished that he would love her. She'd always liked that, the obsession of attraction.

Pulling herself onto the counter, she dug her heel into the wooden door beneath her and stared openly at Renard's profile. He gave no inclination that her stare made him uncomfortable, but he didn't really acknowledge it at all, which was worse. Ondina was used to compelling or repelling the people around her, depending on her intentions. Renard seemed to be the only creature that dared not to do either. It was almost offensive.

"Hm," She hummed in reply at Renard's cold explanation. It might have been sad, really, if she cared enough to pick it apart. But, Renard didn't seem as if he was lacking anything in particular. He had money, he had success. He had his hideously luxurious flat. "I suppose that's why this works so well for you," She mused, tearing her gaze away with a huff. "You've ticked all the appropriate boxes without having to put in any of the real hard work."

She curled her fingers around the counters edge and dug in her nails just for the fun of marking the woodwork. And maybe Renard's confession echoed a bit in her stomach with a hollow thud, the dissatisfaction of being wanted but not loved, nor even especially desired. Just a prop in a game she wasn't even the master of. She thought of a vault overflowing with gold and wondered if that might fill her hollow gut. 

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[renard walt goyle]

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Renard was not lost on the fact that this arrangement only worked because of who the participants were. Had he married anyone else, he would have probably done it out of ‘love’ instead of obligation. Maybe. There really was no telling though because that was the way these sorts of things worked. This happened to work for now, getting his imbecile parents off of his back long enough to formulate the next steps in his plan. He hoped Ondina would grow tired of the charade eventually and the two of them could go their separate ways with little to no effect on his finances. The prenuptials would solve that problem easily. The fact was, he didn’t really care about any of this outside of the optics. Could he have chosen better? Probably. Would he have been able to convince some normal, nice girl to go along with the plan? That was the part he doubted. Ultimately, Renard didn’t care whether or not Ondina was hurt by the end of all of this. If it had been anyone else, he may have thought twice about it.

”It didn’t need to be hard work to begin with,” he stated. ”My parents are idiots. As long as I married someone with a well-known name, they didn’t care. That was why some no name Ministry girl would have never worked.” The irony of it all being that he’d prefer some normal, no nonsense woman over Ondina. He could manage for now. It was all for optics after all. ”If you’re getting cold feet now, I have no qualms about calling it quits. Some things aren’t meant to be, after all. Though I will say, I don’t think anyone else could convince my parents as well as you have. You have them wrapped around your little finger. We’re truly meant to be together by that alone.” And she probably had him caught in her web too. Renard wasn’t completely ignorant of the position he’d put himself in. But for now, it felt like he had the upper-hand.

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[Ondina Nell Weasley]

i dare you.

march 15th 2026

FROM ONDINA'S SEAT ON THE COUNTER, SHE could see the careful twitches in Renard's expression. He was always thinking, she thought, in sharp consideration. Renard seemed to never say a single thing without having tasted every corner of each and every sentence before he opened his lips and let it go free. 'Calculated', she'd call it. 'Careful', he might have countered. Either way, it made for a poor partner in arguments, as he rarely screamed as she wished he might.

"Did you never think to... I dunno." She sighed and looked away, blinking across the state of the art kitchen, "Try and actually fall in love with a person of... good name?" She rolled the phrase around her mouth with a drawling sarcasm. The Weasley name had been mud for centuries before the Second Wizarding War. Luckily, with a family of war heroes and 'exceptional wizarding prowess', they had inadvertently climbed back into the ranks of the beloved for some of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Ondina thought it was absurd, but she never said as much, though her face at times betrayed her. Power was power, at the end of it all. "Was there ever a no-name Ministry girl?" Ondina asked quietly - carefully. She felt herself burrowing, digging at the outside of the cold brick wall of Renard's resolve.

When Renard switched the reigns, Ondina's feet stilled from their rhythmically rattling of the door beneath her feet. Her fingers clasping so hard to the countertop that she felt an ache deep in her knuckles. "Would you stop being such a frigid prick? I never said I had cold fucking feet." She snapped, pushing away from the counter to land with a quiet thud back on the ground. She closed the slither of space between them, facing opposite directions as she rose on her tip-toes to hiss into his chilly ear.

"You know, it's a good thing your parent's are no more animated than a bunch of rocks loose in a sack of sagging old skin." She drawled, her lip curled cruelly. "Because nobody with an ounce of good sense would believe you had a fucking soul if it wasn't for my exceptional acting abilities." And then she turned and stormed off, pausing only to swipe the nearest crystal vase of artificial flowers onto the ground in a great cacophony of shattering glass and crinkling plastic. "Happy fucking engagement, fiance!" She screamed hoarsely, already feeling the twinge of an attack closing around her useless lungs. 

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A snort erupted out of his nostrils as he scoffed at the mere idea of 'falling in love' the classic way. Renard knew himself better than anyone else did; things were never going to turn out that way. He very rarely believed in impossibilities, but what Ondina was asking was most certainly one of them. "Of course not," he laughed. She didn't need to know about his life prior. What was the point in that? All of their faces blended together when he had enough to drink, unfortunately. Whomever came his way whilst he was out was simply in the moment, and then promptly forgotten about. None of it mattered anyways. "They won't even assign me a junior, my personality is so shit. You think I'd be able to land a normal girl that way?" Hilarious. Merlin, this sham of a marriage was going to be even more entertaining than he realized! Ondina scared the absolute hell out of him, but at least there would be moments like this to make it worth it.

Renard continued to smirk at his fiancée. In their brief time together, getting under her skin hadn't happened often. Usually he was the one walking away from conversations feeling like he lost. Having the tables turned was fun for once. He didn't respond to her bite about not having second thoughts. Really, Renard wanted any excuse to escape what he'd created. It already seemed far too late for that. Instead, he latched onto her poor attempt at disparaging his parents. Silly Ondina. He agreed with her on all of that! "Well, we agree on all of those points at least," he said as she started to raise her voice. Storming off like a petulant toddler he waved at her back. "Don't forget to breathe!" Maybe she would do the opposite like always and choke to death. On the other hand, did monsters even need to breathe in the first place?

[Renard End]

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