Esprit d'Elle
The room was crowded, but I was all alone. No one would talk to me. I was being ignored, and I didn't like it. I wouldn't stand for it.
I stood up for the sofa and walked over to the beautiful, black grand piano. It was a
favorite of mine. Always had been since my husband and I had moved into our home. I placed my long fingers over the hard, ivory keys and played a chord. Confident in my ability to play, I opened the music book to one of my favorite songs. I was very fond of Beethoven's 5 Symphony.
The people around me stepped back in surprise. I was ignored, as you may or may not remember. I was ignored in my own home.
I didn't look at anyone as I played. I was too busy concentrating on the music. It relaxed me in a way real life didn't. I was at peace for one once in my life.
The music ended, much to my disappointment. If only the music could go on and on. I looked up only to see Harry with Ginny hanging on his arm talking to Ron and a few others.
How dare she! How dare Ginny come into our happy life and think that she can be
Harry's! He's my husband and she's knows that. I loath that woman with every fiber of my being. I would take care of her.
I left the piano, not that anyone cared. I grabbed a drink from the buffet table. It was a glass of red wine, sure to stain Ginny's yellow gown. I walked over to her and spilled the wine down the front of her dress. It stained immediately.
Ginny gasped with terror. Ron and Harry watched, bewildered. I turned around and left the crowded room before I did anything drastic.
I walked to the door, out onto the porch. The summer breeze struck me as sat down on the step, but skirt fanned out along my slender legs. I loved my gown, yet cursed it. It was heavy. And in the summer it was an inferno contraption. The skirt was full, poofed out by many petticoats. The pattern on it was my favorite feature. The deep blue, with white swirls made the skirt. The sleeves were long and poofed out, in white, as was the shirt. My shoes were black boots, laced up.
My children were out playing. Anna and Michael were their names. Anna was the eldest by 3 years. She was 11, soon to receive her letter to Hogwarts. Harry and I had decided to send them to Hogwarts, though we live in the southern part of the U.S. I suppose I should describe were we live. It's a plantation home, rich with history. I should know, but we'll get into that later. The home used to belong to wealthy slave owners. Most of the decorations in it are original. That's why I fell in love with this house ten years ago. It was the perfect place for us to raise our first children whom I was pregnant with at the time. It was also perfect to spend our millions on. Harry and I were both successful, each rich by doing our on things. Harry in his broomstick company, I in my writing and spell-making.
I curse this house. I curse my love of this house. I wish we had never bought it. But, even I wish too much. It'll never get me anywhere.
There's Lavender. Lavender Weasley with her youngest daughter, born just a few
months ago, named Hermione, after myself. I'll never understand why she did this, but she did. The other Weasley children run by now, playing among Anna and Michael. I long to talk with Lavender, but as I said before, I am being ignored.
I think it's okay for me to return to the party which Ginny decided to have for Harry
because he's been depressed lately.
When I return to the hall, I find Oliver Wood talking to Harry.
"I'm so sorry about---"
"Thank you."
"What happened?"
"I don't care to talk about it." Harry nodded to Oliver and walked away.
"You can't ask him about," Ron said, walking over.
"Why not?" Oliver asked.
"He won't talk about. It hurts too much."
"They were close."
"Yes, he was crushed when it happened."
"Poor man," Oliver said, shaking his head. "So young, too. What a shame. How did it happen, anyway?"
"Your guess is as good as mine," Ron said honestly.
"I would've thought he would've told you."
"So did I."
I turned back out of the hall, not wanting to hear more. It hurt. I walked over to the parlor, my skirts swishing. The parlor was hardly visited by Harry or I. Anna and Michael spent their time studying there, but no more than that. They sensed tension in the air.
The room was decorated with green sofas, with antique wood edges. The paneling on the walls was a French style popular at the time the house was built. The fireplace was beautiful, with the marble mantel. It was easily one of my favorite rooms, which is why I never went there.
The pictures by the fireplace showed happy times, when we were all together. Those times didn't exist anymore. Harry kept to his work now more than ever since it happened. Anna and Michael were watched by a sitter, or Ginny. She had been making her appearance more and more and I didn't like it.
Ginny and I were the best of friends. She was the girl I could tell anything to. She told me all her secrets too. Especially her crush on Harry. I was very aware of that. She wasn't the only one, though. I myself adored him, but would never say anything to him or her. Then Harry told me how he felt. That he liked me a lot and that he wanted me to be his girlfriend. He asked me if I would. Of course I would! Ginny found out. She wasn't happy, but pretended to support it. She was jealous, I knew. I knew all to well.
Two years after school had ended for us, Harry and I got married. Ginny hated me after that. She had been sure that we would break up, leaving room for her. But when she found out that I was pregnant with Anna, she was loathed me. I was having Harry Potter's child, and that made me enemy number one.
I heard something. Ginny. Ginny talking to Harry, obviously begging him for something.
"Harry, I need to go change my dress."
"Why don't you just use magic to fix the stain?"
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"I don't have my wand."
"You can change your dress, but leave Hermione's dresses and clothes alone," he said, sternly. If there was one thing he was picking about was who touched my things. He knew Ginny would just love to get her hands on them. I knew that. I've known that for years now.
Not that they would fit her. My dresses were all custom made to fit by body alone. Ginny and I aren't even the same size. She shorter than I am by four inches. She barely has a chest, and those dresses were made to fit a woman with a chest. And believe me, I've got one. Those dresses were made to fit a curvy figured woman, which Ginny is not. She's a board. Even from chest to waist to hips. She's been jealous of me since she realized that she wasn't going to get anything like that like I have.
"Fine," I heard Ginny say and she stomped off.
I shook my head.
The room was crowded, but I was all alone. No one would talk to me. I was being ignored, and I didn't like it. I wouldn't stand for it.
I stood up for the sofa and walked over to the beautiful, black grand piano. It was a
favorite of mine. Always had been since my husband and I had moved into our home. I placed my long fingers over the hard, ivory keys and played a chord. Confident in my ability to play, I opened the music book to one of my favorite songs. I was very fond of Beethoven's 5 Symphony.
The people around me stepped back in surprise. I was ignored, as you may or may not remember. I was ignored in my own home.
I didn't look at anyone as I played. I was too busy concentrating on the music. It relaxed me in a way real life didn't. I was at peace for one once in my life.
The music ended, much to my disappointment. If only the music could go on and on. I looked up only to see Harry with Ginny hanging on his arm talking to Ron and a few others.
How dare she! How dare Ginny come into our happy life and think that she can be
Harry's! He's my husband and she's knows that. I loath that woman with every fiber of my being. I would take care of her.
I left the piano, not that anyone cared. I grabbed a drink from the buffet table. It was a glass of red wine, sure to stain Ginny's yellow gown. I walked over to her and spilled the wine down the front of her dress. It stained immediately.
Ginny gasped with terror. Ron and Harry watched, bewildered. I turned around and left the crowded room before I did anything drastic.
I walked to the door, out onto the porch. The summer breeze struck me as sat down on the step, but skirt fanned out along my slender legs. I loved my gown, yet cursed it. It was heavy. And in the summer it was an inferno contraption. The skirt was full, poofed out by many petticoats. The pattern on it was my favorite feature. The deep blue, with white swirls made the skirt. The sleeves were long and poofed out, in white, as was the shirt. My shoes were black boots, laced up.
My children were out playing. Anna and Michael were their names. Anna was the eldest by 3 years. She was 11, soon to receive her letter to Hogwarts. Harry and I had decided to send them to Hogwarts, though we live in the southern part of the U.S. I suppose I should describe were we live. It's a plantation home, rich with history. I should know, but we'll get into that later. The home used to belong to wealthy slave owners. Most of the decorations in it are original. That's why I fell in love with this house ten years ago. It was the perfect place for us to raise our first children whom I was pregnant with at the time. It was also perfect to spend our millions on. Harry and I were both successful, each rich by doing our on things. Harry in his broomstick company, I in my writing and spell-making.
I curse this house. I curse my love of this house. I wish we had never bought it. But, even I wish too much. It'll never get me anywhere.
There's Lavender. Lavender Weasley with her youngest daughter, born just a few
months ago, named Hermione, after myself. I'll never understand why she did this, but she did. The other Weasley children run by now, playing among Anna and Michael. I long to talk with Lavender, but as I said before, I am being ignored.
I think it's okay for me to return to the party which Ginny decided to have for Harry
because he's been depressed lately.
When I return to the hall, I find Oliver Wood talking to Harry.
"I'm so sorry about---"
"Thank you."
"What happened?"
"I don't care to talk about it." Harry nodded to Oliver and walked away.
"You can't ask him about," Ron said, walking over.
"Why not?" Oliver asked.
"He won't talk about. It hurts too much."
"They were close."
"Yes, he was crushed when it happened."
"Poor man," Oliver said, shaking his head. "So young, too. What a shame. How did it happen, anyway?"
"Your guess is as good as mine," Ron said honestly.
"I would've thought he would've told you."
"So did I."
I turned back out of the hall, not wanting to hear more. It hurt. I walked over to the parlor, my skirts swishing. The parlor was hardly visited by Harry or I. Anna and Michael spent their time studying there, but no more than that. They sensed tension in the air.
The room was decorated with green sofas, with antique wood edges. The paneling on the walls was a French style popular at the time the house was built. The fireplace was beautiful, with the marble mantel. It was easily one of my favorite rooms, which is why I never went there.
The pictures by the fireplace showed happy times, when we were all together. Those times didn't exist anymore. Harry kept to his work now more than ever since it happened. Anna and Michael were watched by a sitter, or Ginny. She had been making her appearance more and more and I didn't like it.
Ginny and I were the best of friends. She was the girl I could tell anything to. She told me all her secrets too. Especially her crush on Harry. I was very aware of that. She wasn't the only one, though. I myself adored him, but would never say anything to him or her. Then Harry told me how he felt. That he liked me a lot and that he wanted me to be his girlfriend. He asked me if I would. Of course I would! Ginny found out. She wasn't happy, but pretended to support it. She was jealous, I knew. I knew all to well.
Two years after school had ended for us, Harry and I got married. Ginny hated me after that. She had been sure that we would break up, leaving room for her. But when she found out that I was pregnant with Anna, she was loathed me. I was having Harry Potter's child, and that made me enemy number one.
I heard something. Ginny. Ginny talking to Harry, obviously begging him for something.
"Harry, I need to go change my dress."
"Why don't you just use magic to fix the stain?"
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"I don't have my wand."
"You can change your dress, but leave Hermione's dresses and clothes alone," he said, sternly. If there was one thing he was picking about was who touched my things. He knew Ginny would just love to get her hands on them. I knew that. I've known that for years now.
Not that they would fit her. My dresses were all custom made to fit by body alone. Ginny and I aren't even the same size. She shorter than I am by four inches. She barely has a chest, and those dresses were made to fit a woman with a chest. And believe me, I've got one. Those dresses were made to fit a curvy figured woman, which Ginny is not. She's a board. Even from chest to waist to hips. She's been jealous of me since she realized that she wasn't going to get anything like that like I have.
"Fine," I heard Ginny say and she stomped off.
I shook my head.