Notes: This is from Lysandra Black nee Yaxley's perspective. She's the mother of Cedrella Weasley nee Black, and the grandmother of Arthur Weasley.
So many thanks to Bex who fixed my tense issues.
It starts off with a quiet rebellion, you suppose. You couldn't quite pretend that your daughter never existed like your husband, not when you carried her for eight and a half months and prayed to Salazar, to Merlin, to anyone who would listen that your baby girl would survive. Not when you looked at her and saw yourself in her sandy blonde curls and sapphire eyes. Cedrella was always too soft-hearted to be a Black, always too much like you.
You received a letter from Cedrella three days after Charis was swept away by her husband. You know you should've burnt it without reading, but you couldn't bring yourself to. You were a Yaxley by birth and a Black by marriage, but you found that neither of those identities trumped your desire to know. You just needed to know how your daughter was so you tore into the letter and read every word. Twice. Holding it to your chest, you cried for the daughter you had to pretend never existed. Afterward, you hid the letter, believing it would be the only one she would send. You were wrong.
Cedrella is clever, though; the letters would always arrive when Arcturus was at work, despite the fact you never reply. You never had to worry about him finding out. You kept the letters Cedrella sent, hidden in a drawer under a disillusionment spell where your husband would never find them.
Then came the letter announcing her pregnancy. It was the first time you wrote back, wanting to be a part of Cedrella's life, of your grandchild's life. Of course, it wasn't that easy; you didn't expect it to be. Not after you stood by silently as Arcturus dragged her to the front door by her sandy hair while she begged you to do something, anything. You worked hard to mend your relationship with your daughter throughout her pregnancy.
All of the effort paid off when Cedrella allowed you to visit. You furtively waited until Arcturus left for work to dress. Donning your thickest jacket, you Apparated to the address your daughter sent—it's the only letter you burned.
Cedrella's house is tiny comparatively. For a moment, you wondered if this was really where she lived, wondered how she could degrade herself from the fancy and extravagant houses the Blacks own to this place that could easily fit inside the ballroom of your house. Then Cedrella answers the door.
The last time you set eyes on you daughter was four years ago. You drink her appearance in like it was water and you were dying of thirst. While Cedrella still holds herself with the same grace she always has, there's something different about it. You look into her sapphire eyes and, for the first time, realize that her eyes were always lifeless compared to the sheer joy in them now.
She ushers you inside. You step in and take off your coat, hanging it on the coat rack near the door. The inside of the house is just as small as it appears. From the doorway, you can see the tiny kitchen, the living room, and a dining table.
There's a wail from the bassinet and Cedrella rushes to pick up the baby. She bounces the baby gently and makes shushing sounds, cooing out his name every now and again. You stare at the scene in awe. You've never taken care of a baby before, not even your own children; Arcturus had always been strict about having the house-elves tend to the children and his temper has always been nasty.
You take a seat in the armchair, by the small fireplace. The fire takes the late February chill out of the air. Once the baby isn't crying anymore, Cedrella passes him into your arms. It feels awkward holding a baby. You're not quite sure where to put your hands. Cedrella returns with hot chocolate in mix match cups, and laughs. She sets the cups on the dining table.
She rearranges your arms without comment so you're supporting his head more securely. It no longer feels like you're going to drop him. You look down at Arthur. He's almost as small as Cedrella was, with her sapphire eyes, but his head is covered with bright red hair, no doubt inherited from his father. You wonder if this is what true motherhood feels like.
Cedrella sips at her hot chocolate. You can smell the cinnamon she sprinkles on top from where you're sitting. She eventually takes a seat across from you and just talks and talks and talks. You didn't realize how much you missed hearing her voice until now. In return, you tell her about her sisters and her niece, Augusta, and how Callidora is pregnant with her second child, and how you wouldn't be surprised if Charis announced a pregnancy soon. She listens raptly to the news and you realize she hasn't chanced writing to her sisters.
Arthur, who had been content just to sleep in your arms, starts to cry again. You try mimicking Cedrella's earlier movements and sounds, but it does nothing to soothe him. Cedrella swoops in, apologizing as she takes Arthur from your arms. He may look small, but your arms are tired from holding him so long; you only slipped one hand away to drink the cinnamon sprinkled hot chocolate occasionally.
Begrudgingly, you know if you don't leave now, you won't leave at all. You've tested your luck long enough today. Cedrella gives you a sad smile when you announce you're leaving. There's a small part of you that is thankful she doesn't try to convince you to stay.
You put on your coat, readying yourself for the journey home. You give Cedrella and Arthur one last look before you step outside into the cold. They stay on your mind the rest of the afternoon. Then the door opens, and you are forced to pretend they never existed and pray that Arcturus never finds out otherwise. There will be nothing to save you from his rage if he does.
You make a tradition of it—rebelling, if only for three days a year. You wait until Arcturus is gone before gathering your coat and the bag you hid under the floorboard. Inside the accessory is a small bag of gold you've saved since the last birthday and a small gift for Arthur.
Once you're ready, you Apparate to Cedrella's small house. There's white smoke from the chimney and the door is answered almost immediately when you knock. Arthur answers the door with a wide, toothy grin. He has grown over the years, but he is still rather small for his age. You think he'll be short like Cedrella, whereas at four, Billus is showing signs of being tall like Cedrella's husband, and there's only guessing which one little Cadmus will take after.
The house is much the same as it always is when you visit—small, with toys spread out across the living room. You don't quite know how the family of five manages to stay in such close quarters but they always seem content when you come.
Arthur pulls you over to something at the dining table. There's a soft melodic sound coming from the wireless radio in the kitchen. He proudly shows you what he calls a 'Magic 8-Ball'. He's demonstrating the toy when Cedrella passes with a tub of dry laundry, and ruffles Arthur's shocking red hair fondly as she does.
There's so many things on the tip of your tongue to say about blood status and Muggles, but you bite them back. Arthur looks so...joyful as he talks about the Muggle item, and you can't bring yourself to ruin it. He hands it to you and talks you through using it. It feels a little silly asking a ball a question and shaking it for an answer, but it makes Arthur happy.
Eventually, Cadmus wanders over, unsteadily, and holds his hands up for Arthur's toy. Without hesitation, he lets his youngest brother have the toy. You take the opportunity to give him your gift. It's nothing compared to the Muggle toy he received from his parents but he grins broadly and hugs you tight. Seven years of this type of affection, and it still makes you freeze. He takes the toy broom to his younger brothers and then, the three of them head out to the tiny garden to play together.
You look at the Magic 8-Ball that lays forgotten on the floor apprehensively. You've been told your whole life that Muggles are beneath you, that those creatures weren't worth a stray thought. But here's Arthur, who is so fascinated by Muggles and their inventions, and like with Cedrella, you can't seem to make yourself believe Arthur's wrong.
Cedrella comes to sit next to you at the table, after the laundry is put away. She asks about Callidora and Charis and her nieces and nephews like she always does. She listens to your stories and offers some of her own that she hasn't written about. After a while, she calls the boys back inside with promises of ice cream.
Billus is the first in, followed by Arthur who is making sure Cadmus doesn't fall over. Cedrella spells the ice cream into bowls, and bowls into the boys' hands. Arthur takes his bowl and picks up the Magic 8-Ball from the living room. He eats with one hand and shakes the ball with the other.
You watch them; watch the way Cedrella looks at Arthur with a grin, and the way that the seven year old grins when he reads the answer to his question aloud, and the way that Billus tries to peak over Arthur's shoulder, and the way Arthur lets Cadmus take the toy again. There's an ache in your chest. You don't even know if your children were as close as the three boys are.
Maybe blood purity isn't the only important thing in the world.
Scavenger: 1. Write about a member of the Black family
Film: 12. Ice Cream
Photography: Use no dialogue whatsoever in your story.
Cooking: Cinnamon - Food: Hot chocolate, Action: Sitting by a fire
Geek: Stand 4 - accessory, fancy, gold
Insane: 399. Furtive
365: 296. Second person
Character Appreciation: 7. (word) Last
Disney: T4 - Write about blood status
Book club: Tala: (plot point) teaching someone something, (action) smiling, (word) burn
Showtime: 39. (word) Journey
Buttons: W5 - Melodic
Lyrics: 20. My own secret ceremonials
Ami's Audio: 1. (object) Wireless Radio
Sophie's Shelf: 3. write about a woman with no maternal instinct.