Hello everyone! Thank you for choosing my story to read. I hope you enjoy it. I am looking for a beta, so if someone is interested, please message me. I would really appreciate reviews.

This story is set during the Weasley grandchildren era, and a few will have an important role, though, none of them are the protagonist.

Enjoy!


Painting Nimwe

Chapter 1: Goodbye

Thursday, the fourth day of the week, the one to last day before the weekend, all in all a normal day for most people. So it seemed for Nimwe la Fay: an eight-year old girl with thick brown hair and bright blue eyes that watched the world with interest.

She was at home downstairs, sitting on the couch wit a book in her hands. Her eyes howere were not reading the letters on the pages. No, they were set on the window that gave her a view on the street. She was evidently waiting for someone or something outside. The girl was so fixed on the street that she didn't react to the tall, red-dyed haired woman that entered the living room. Her robes were dark blue and made here dyed hair look even more flaming red.

"He will be home soon, I'm sure," Violet White said to the girl.

Nimwe did not seem convinced. "He's never late, or he would send an owl or a patronus to let us know he is running late." It was almost as if Violet was talking to a teenager, not a girl of just eight springs young.

"Why don't we play a game?" Clearly an attempt of distraction. "We could play Exploding Snap?"

Nimwe threw one last look at the street and then stood reluctantly up. She sat at the big dark wooden table across Violet. Her back was now to the window, but her ears were highly sensitive to catch the smallest hint of the front door opening and thus revealing the homecoming of her father, the man she was waiting for.

Nimwe lived with her father Conor la Faye in the city Ness Docks in the north of Great Britain. The city was a half muggle/half wizard community and Nimwe enjoyed living there. She went to the public muggle school, but she knew that she would attend Hogwart, school for Witchcraft and Wizardry at the age of eleven and become a full educated witch. Her father had also attended Hogwarts and was now working with dragons; creatures he was highly fascinated with. He had worked in Romania, until his girlfriend, Maeve, had become pregnant and they had moved back to Britain. Conor had foreseen a happy future with his wife and a bunch of healthy children; how wrong had he been. The day Nimwe was born in the hospital in Edinburgh, May 1st, Maeve had fled the scene and never returned. Conor was left alone with a beautiful daughter and a broken heart. He continued working with dragons, although now in Britain and got help from his colleague's wife Violet to take care of Nimwe.

Nimwe had a happy life: she loved her father, got along well with her muggle and wizards friends and enjoyed going to school. She didn't miss her mother, if she were missing something it was more a mother figure, but Violet played that role and did it well, however not day and night. Sometimes there was this pang of jealousy when she saw her friends with their mothers, but she didn't want Maeve back. She left them and Nimwe was happy with living alone with her father.

The clock struck seven. Conor was supposed to have come home an hour ago. Nimwe looked at Violet, who grabbed her hand reassuringly. I'll send an…" Violet was interrupted by the door bell.

"Oh, who could that be?" She stood up from her chair and walked through the doorway that separated the living room from the hallway. Nimwe heard the front door open and then Violet said: "Honey? I didn't expect to see you here." A pause. "What's wrong? Where's Conor?" Nimwe heard Simon, Violet's husband and Conor's fellow worker, say something softly. He was too far away to hear what he had just mumbled. Then suddenly Violet began to whimper and sob. Nimwe rose from her chair, but then could not decide between walking to the hall and remaining where she was. She had been having a bad feeling the whole day and at this moment it had reached its peak. Just when Nimwe thought that she should go to the hall, Violeet and Simon, a bulky tall man with a bald head walked into the room. Violet was white as chalk and her eyes were red and glistering with tears that she tried to hold in. Her husband looked solemn and walked slowly to the girl.

"Come, sit down," He pushed her gently down to the chair, grabbed the chair next to her and turned it so he was facing her directly. He looked Nimwe deeply in the eyes and gave the news every person hoped to never hear: "I'm sorry, but your father has passed away this afternoon. He got hit by the tail of a Green Horned Dragon and…" He paused for a moment, checking how the girl was doing. "the damage done was too severe for Healers to help him. They did everything they could, but he didn't make it. I'm so sorry."

Nimwe had looked directly in his eyes and not one moment did she doubt his words; his eyes showed that. The moment he stopped talking the light in her dimmed and her eyes were unfocused. Someone must have put plugs in her ears, because Simon's words were hard to hear. She heard "Charlie", "as soon as possible" and "Romania", but she did not hear the connection nor did she care. The most important thing she had heard and registered: her father, the gentle and strong Conor la Faye was killed by his passion, a dragon. Did she tell him she loved him? Yes, she thought back, last night as a greet op sleep well. He had kissed her good night and she had told him she loved him. He had returned the love, not knowing it was for the last time.

No more Dad. No family anymore: her grandparents had been killed in the Second War and Conor had been an only child.

Nimwe stood up, her motions robotically and without saying a thing or listening to Violets words of comfort she walked out of the room, up the stairs, to her room, where she lay on her bed the whole night without sleeping for a minute.

The next morning Nimwe was still laying fully dressed on her bed, when Violet knocked on her door. Without waiting the witch opened it and entered the room. She walked to the bed and sat down. Nimwe did not give a sign of recognition; the ceiling had her full attention.

"Nimwe, honey, please come down. Have some breakfast."

Nimwe shook her head and turned facing the wall, because Violet wanted eye contact with her. She felt Violet's hand shortly on her shoulder and her brown hair, before the woman left the room. A click told her that the door was closed again.

Hours crawled by and Nimwe didn't leave her room. She stayed on her bed staring at the ceiling or at a picture of her and her father taken last year during Christmas. Nimwe wanted to burn this image in her mind: her father: tall, muscled, lightly scarred with the same thick dark brown hair as his daughter and grey gently eyes. He was smiling, causing some wrinkles at the side of his eyes and his right arm was tightly draped around Nimwe's shoulders, who was smiling an even bigger smile. The Christmas tree was in the background and on the back of the couch, on the left side of Conor's head, sat Gwyndion, Conor's owl.

Nimwe could not stop looking at it, taking in all the details of the man who had raised her.

Violet had visited the bedroom a few times, but still could not persuade Nimwe to come down. Whatever she said, it did not get through to the girl. The last time she had come to Nimwe, it was around one o'clock, she had brought some sandwiches and milk with her. One hour later she was back and found the food untouched and the glass just emptied half.

She sat down on the bed again. "Nimwe, please come downstairs. We are organising the funeral, which will be on Tuesday. Your father's will has been found and Simon and I want to read it together with you."

Nimwe shook her head. "I don't want to. I will read it alone." She said softly.

Violet began to speak, but her husband, who was standing in the doorway, stopped her with a headshake. He walked forward, put a envelope in Nimwe's hand and exited the room again, taking Violet with him.

Nimwe sat right up against the headboard and opened the parchment envelope with shaking hands. Two pieces of parchment slid out of it. She unfolded them and began to read the first one with the smallest text.

I, Conor Patrick la Faye, hereby give all my possessions and money to my daughter Nimwe Aislin la Faye, to maker her life a little easier now I'm gone. In case I've passed away before her seventeenth birthday I have arranged that Charles Fabian Weasley will take custody of Nimwe.

The will was closed with the scribbling that was Conor la Faye's autograph.

Nimwe lay the will aside and began reading the second page, which appeared to be a personal letter.

Dear Nimwe,

It seems the day has come that we have to say goodbye. I love you, Nimwe. You are the best thing that happened to me and it hurts imagining you reading this, because it means that I won't be able see you grow up and that you lost me.

Nimwe as your father I can't resist giving some words of (hopefully) wisdom. I'm sure you'll grow into a strong and intelligent woman, however I can't resist. Be kind, little girl, and keep the ones you love close. The best way is not always the easiest way, but don't be afraid to fail. Your experiences help to become you and learn about the world. Please do your best at school and enjoy your seven years at Hogwarts.

Make friends, search for love, live life. Do what your heart tells you. Make sure that at the end of the day you can look yourself in the eyes.

From now on you'll live with your godfather; let him take care of you. However, don't forget that I will always be with you. I'm an angel know and I will still take care of you, although you won't see me anymore.

Take care, sweety, and think occasionally of your Dad.

With all love in the world,

Dad

She had not shed a tear since she had heard the devastating news, but now her eyes were overflowing with big tears of grief. The letter broke her.

The tears made red paths on her cheek and her body could not stop shaking.

Silently Violet entered the room and took the girl in her arms; shushing and stroking her dark hair.

It seemed endless to Nimwe, but after a half hour all her tears had left her body and all she was left to do was hiccupping and gasping for air.

"Easy, honey. Breathe in and breathe out again." Violet guided her. When Nimwe was breathing normally again, occasionally hiccupping, Violet asked: "Will you come down now? You need to eat."

Nimwe nodded and followed the witch silently downstairs, the will, the letter and the photo clutching with her hand.

The days passed in a haze for Nimwe. Charlie Weasley, an average height, well build red head and her godfather, arrived on Saturday. She said hello to him, but other than that she did not pay attention to him. Charlie had looked with despair at Violet, who had taken him to the kitchen and had talked to him. They decided on leaving Nimwe be, there was enough time for him to get more acquainted with her. They had met regularly when Conor would take his daughter on holiday to Romania and the dragons.

On Sunday friends and colleagues of her father visited the house to giver their condolences. At first Nimwe sat downstairs in the living room in the red arm chair; she did not pay much attention to the visitors and was almost non-responsive. After a while she could not take the well-meant words of comfort and she fled to her bedroom. Violet and Charlie let her be and took care of the guests and good as they could.

On Tuesday morning Violet dressed Nimwe in a black dress, tied her hair with a black ribbon and took her to the funeral. It was outside at the graveyard. The tombstone that Violet, Simon and Charlie had chosen was light grey and a Chinese dragon was carved into it. Conor Patrick la Faye was written Loving Dad, Great Friend, Caretaker of Dragons followed by the data of birth and death. Some people made a speech, but Nimwe just let the words flow past her ears. Her eyes were fixed on the coffin, where her father's body was in. When the ceremony ended, the people stood up and in small groups said goodbye for the last time to Conor. Nimwe stood next to Charlie and grabbed his robes partly to hide herself, but also to hold onto something. Her legs suddenly felt very week. When the graveyard was empty again and only Nimwe, Charlie, Violet and Simon were left, they walked to the grave. Charlie held the girl's hand. His hand was rough and clearly an important tool in his work. She felt safe with her tiny hand in his big one.

Violet had been sobbing from the start of the funeral and tears were still dripping down her cheeks. She took one step forward and lay her right hand on the wood. "Goodbye, dear Conor," she mumbled. Simon came to stand next to her, put his arm around Violet's shoulders and mumbled his goodbye to. They quietly walked away.

Charlie stepped to the grave and looked down at Nimwe. She didn't look back; her eyes were fixed on the last resting place of her father. Charlie bend down and picked her up, so she did not have to stand anymore. He had seen her shaking legs.

"You want to say something to your dad, Nimwe?" His voice was soft, careful.

Nimwe nodded and took a great gulp of air. Her voice was broken, but still clear in the silence. "I will miss you, Dad. I love you. Never leave me." She blew a kiss to the coffin and then rested her head against Charlie's shoulder, who stroke her hair.

"Bye Conor. I was an honour to have known you. I will take good care of her, I promise." When Nimwe heard those last words she nestled her head deeper in to his shoulder, indicating that she knew that those words were true.

Charlie said goodbye and then walked with Nimwe still on his arm away to go home and put Nimwe in her bed. It had been an exhausting day for the girl and he did not want her on the reception.

He had been worried about her since he had arrived at her home. She would sit on the couch in the living room or on her bed in her room and stare at the photo of her and her father. She only responded when necessary and even then it would take one of the adults a few times before she heard one of them talking to hear. Since Charlie had arrived she had been forced to do something else: packing. Charlie had been living in Romania to work with dragons up till now, but now that Nimwe was left in his care, he had decided that living in Britain would be better for her. He had arranged, so he had told her, that they would move to Ottery st Catchpole in Devon. They would live in the Burrow, the house where he had grown up and where his parents were still living. He was not used to taking a care of a child, so he had asked his parents, especially his mother, to help him with that.

Nimwe had asked about his work, because obviously he had to quit his job in Romania.

"There are dragons in Britain and I have already been transferred to here, so that is no problem," Charlie had explained. Nimwe had nodded and had begun packing, not only her own things, but also the objects that were once her father's. She especially wanted the books and the bookcase that contained both her books and the books of her father. Both books for just recreation and books full of useful information about dragons and spells were stocked in it. Charlie had promised that he would set the bookcase up in her new room at the Burrow. Packing kept her busy, although every time she found something with a special memory of her father, the pain came back hard.

Charlie and Violet helped as good as they could, magicking the things to fit into the boxes perfectly. They had not attempted to talk with her again, feeling that Nimwe didn't want to. Those few days had passed in silence.