SnowSong
-Written for the Diagon Alley Christmas Challenge-
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The air is cold, frigid with tiny shards of ice forming from her misting breath as she knocks upon the door. A light dusting of snow framed her ruby hair, her cheeks tinged pink from the absence of heat, her heart beating painfully fast as she stood upon a porch that she hadn't seen in three years.
This was her parent's house, a home that had seen her family grow and then sunder like a glacier caught upon the sides of a volcano. The cracks and faults had always been there, spreading like lacy filigree till the day the eruption came.
Voices had risen to shake the heavens, magic had flared as had tempers and the very ground had become scorched by the ire of the warring family. Then the morning came and they were gone, the three children of the Potter household abandoning home and hearth in pursuit of happiness so long denied.
Lily Luna Potter was as fiery as she was independent, she loathed being mollycoddled and treated as a fragile shard of crystal that may break at any time. It was what had led her to leave, her father and brothers had been unable to contemplate that she was growing up and needed to carve out her own destiny . . .
For the briefest moment she had imagined that she had held the world in her hands before it all went trickling between her fingers like the sands through an hourglass. Her relationship with her lover had been torn to shreds, her brothers had clawed chunks out of each other as her father looked on in despair at what he had wrought.
She had left to see the world, eager to escape the broken home. Whole countries had she traversed, riding camels through the Sahara, swimming with the Beluga of the Arctic and walking length of The Great Wall of China. She reinvented herself, created a persona of indifference and solitude.
If no one ever heard her, how would they learn her song?
Lily had been alone all these years, believing that she could exist on her own, that she needed no other in her life. She had walked the path of shadows and swam the river of lost dreams, free from the suffocating overzealousness of her family. But like a chink in her armour, the memories of the family she loved slowly began to poison the hate created by the indentation of the family she had believed herself to hate.
A soft song echoed over the drifts of snow, a group of carollers passing by the darkened house that was invisible to muggles. The music filled her with a sense of purpose as she reached up and knocked harder, finally obtaining a response from the inhabitants of her family home and a faint smile creased her features.
What better time was there to come home, than Christmas Eve?
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The suffocating feeling that accompanied apparition faded away as quickly as the warm kiss of their fireplace, the lingering chill of the snow-strewn air chilling raising the hair on his hands and neck. His dishevelled black hair seemed not out of place in this garden, nor did the shock of similarly untidy platinum locks against his shoulder. Emerald green eyes surveyed the home standing before him, frosted glass windows and a few haphazard streams of tinsel dotting the deck. It brought a wistful smile to his lips, his mother had always loved to decorate and it seemed that she had not lost the habit, even now that she had precious little to celebrate.
A two-year old boy asleep on his shoulder, Albus Severus Potter began to walk up the garden path, his gloved fingers linked with those of his wife's. His movements were so distinctly unrecognizable from those of the boy who had once played in this garden, childish mischief and energetic gaits replaced with the gracefulness and regality of the pureblood family that he had married into.
She was the reason he had chosen to leave because when James and his father had told him to choose, he had chosen her over them. He would always choose her, the porcelain woman who walked beside him, her sleek blonde hair falling like a wave of silvered-ivory to the small of her black.
Cassiopeia Malfoy, now Potter, his lady who had cost him his world and then helped him build a new one in which the two of them could be happy and free from his family's meddling.
He had always been the black sheep of the Potters, a Slytherin in a house of Gryffindors. His parents had thought it a phase when he had first become friendly with Scorpius Malfoy, deluded themselves into thinking he would one day follow in their egotistical footsteps and be an auror or a quidditch star. It was never the case; Albus was a Healer with a knack for Potions and was now bound to the Malfoy family by more than friendship.
He was a little different, there's no need to be ashamed.
He hadn't felt the need to return till recently, when the nagging thoughts that his parents should know their grandson had begun to weigh upon his mind. Cassiopeia had supported his decisions as she always had and that had led them to leave the comfort of their penthouse.
The sound of humming seeped through the cracks around the door as a woman hummed within, the melody filling Albus with nostalgia. His mother had always hummed when she cooked, it was one of her little quirks that had breathed life into those final days before their fall, when they had all broken apart like the icicles falling to the ground.
He knocked, feeling his son stir against him as footsteps approached the door. He smiled, a trembling expression that betrayed the facade of finely dressed capriciousness that he had sculpted himself into.
What better time was there to forgive and forget, than Christmas Eve?
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Hazel eyes filled with longing as he knelt beside his three-year-old daughter, his nimble fingers deftly buttoning her coat as she giggled at the flecks of snow falling against the window. He stood, smiling at his wife as she came in through the bedroom door, heart shaped face framed by curls of chocolate brown.
He hadn't been home in three years, not since the pressure of being "The Son of Harry Potter" had become too much for one person to handle. His siblings had had it easier, he had charged in first and had a host of expectations and responsibilities dropped onto his shoulders, weighing his teenage years down as if he bore the weight of the world upon his back.
Then when the tensions had become too high, he had left with his wife to forge a new life for themselves in France, where the name Potter was respected but not revered. The years had passed and he had often felt remorse for abandoning his siblings and parents but it had been something that he needed to do, he couldn't go on living his life when the pressure to live up his father's name had grown a little more every day.
His parents had been unsympathetic to his plight, calling him boisterous and a drama queen. His brother had understood but had had his own problems to deal with, his sister had been the same. None could truly see how much he had had to sacrifice.
But now his daughter was asking questions, innocent inquiries about why he didn't have a mummy and daddy that he couldn't ignore any longer. He had been gone three years and it was past time that he returned home and introduced the senior Potters to the granddaughter they had never known, for Alison had been but three months pregnant when they had left.
A lifetime spent in silence, afraid to say something wrong.
Taking his girls by the hands, he stepped into the floo and the roaring jade flame was like music to his ears, in stark contrast to the powdery melody of the snow swirling like gossamer from the sky.
Stepping out of his parents fireplace he froze, his eyes widening at the shock of onyx hair, as dishevelled as his own brunette, and the waves of scarlet fire. His baby brother looked leaner and more aristocratic than ever, hands stuffed into pockets of an expensive winter coat. His sister seemed wind-burned and travel worn, but timid smiles were worn across their faces, lighting their faces like the star upon a tree. James broke into a broad grin because obviously his siblings had had the same thought as him.
No words were exchanged as he stepped forward, releasing the hands of his wife and daughter as he yanked his brother and sister into a hug that had been three years in the making.
Because what better time was there than to heal old hurts, than Christmas Eve?
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Three hearts as loud as lions so why let themselves be tamed?
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His hair was more salt than pepper, his eyes creased with wrinkles wrought by first joy and then sorrow as he leaned back into the worn armchair beside the fire, his first smile in years as he surveyed the room. His wife leaned sleepily against him, slightly plump figure drawn down to bones over the years of estrangement from their children, but the upward curve of his lips had caused the years to slide off her face and return the twinkle to her dull eyes. It was a few minutes to midnight and all were exhausted by the unexpected reunion.
Two children lay curled up upon the loveseat, already fast friends despite just meeting, exhausted from hours of cocoa, cookies and chatter. Lily's eyes were closed as she stretched out across the couch closest to the kitchen, truly a young woman now and not the girl with grandiose delusions she had been when she had left.
Albus leaned back on the two-seater, his Malfoy bride asleep with her head resting on his shoulder, his own eyes fluttering shut, their fingers clasped together. Harry swore under his breath to see them so happy and in love, had he accepted her into the family all those years ago he would never have lost his son. . . At that point in time though, all he had seen was that she was a Malfoy. His anger was directed at himself and his judgements, but he was happy that his son had finally found a place for himself.
James was the most awake, though Alison was as asleep as the sister-in-laws. Like his father, the brunette stared around the room as if not believing his eyes, often coming to rest on the platters of cookies and empty mugs upon the coffee table. Harry shook his head at the sight. Like him, his son was having difficulty contemplating that everything seemed to be finally getting better.
The clock struck twelve, a whimsical chorus of chimes sounding to signify the coming of the new day as Harry slowly succumbed to sleep. His family had breathed new life into the stagnant air of Grimmauld Place, effortlessly replacing the wan decorations Ginny had put up with festive cheer. The tree stood as tall as it had when they had been children, wreathes of holly adorning every surface as metallic baubles clung to the ceiling and banisters of the stairs.
They had the light to fight the shadows, so they stopped hiding it away. . .
Emerald eyes closed, the howl of the snow torn wind filling the home with its eerie lullaby. Across the room, a child stirred before falling back into the world of dreams, one small arm loped protectively around that of her younger cousin.
Because what better time was there for love and family, than Christmas?
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A/N: So this is my submission for the Christmas Challenge. I chose the theme "Family" and I hope you all enjoy.
Please do Read and Review.