Peroxide for the Wound
Part One
Subtitled: What you've found sure upsets you
Quote: Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one.
Jane Howard, "Families"
a/n – This is story idea I've been playing with for sometime. Adelle, from my 'Let It Snow' series with be in this as many of you asked for the continuation of her character. I own nothing in this, this is just for fun. Please Review. All characters you recognize are from JK Rowling's Harry Potter Series and the subtitles are from Dashboard Confessionals song, "if you cant let it be, might as well make it bleed.
"There must be some mistake." Mrs. Tralia said staring at the severe lawyer in front of her.
"My father's name is not Remus Lupin!" Sixteen year old Isabelle Walker cried, her dirty blonde curls toppling into her eyes. "His name is —" she swallowed painfully. "was – Jonathan Walker." She finished quietly.
"I'm afraid that's just not true." Jane Bloom a young lawyer of 28, who hadn't yet learned that her brand of professionalism alienated her clients, said smoothly without even blinking. "It says quite clearly in your mother's will that in the event of her untimely death," Isabelle shivered at Ms. Bloom's casual reference to her mother's death. "That custody was to fall to your stepfather Jonathan Walker, should Mr. Walker be incapacitated," Isabelle grimaced at the word but Ms. Bloom ploughed on unfeelingly "custody then falls to your biological father, a Mr. Remus Lupin."
Isabelle stared out the window, shaking her head angrily as tears filled her eyes. "How kind of her to mention that to me before she died." Isabelle said bitterly. An awkward silence followed and Ms. Bloom looked quite undone by this unexpected show of emotion. She began to pat her hair nervously and looked to Mrs. Tralia for some assistance. Mrs. Tralia, however, was watching Isabelle with a pained expression.
"I want to see some kind of proof." Isabelle cried suddenly, ripping her gaze from the pristine parking lot four stories below that was lined with posies and small trees.
"Proof?" Ms. Bloom asked incredulously. The will, in her mind as a statement of the law, was all the proof anyone could ask for.
"I want to see a birth certificate or some kind of blood test!" Isabelle was undeterred by the expression on Ms. Bloom's kind. "or something. You can't really expect me to move to another country to live with a complete stranger without some kind of proof. I mean this guy could be a serial killer!"
Ms. Bloom turned to Mrs. Tralia in alarm. "Really now." She said clucking with disapproval. "I understand you've just experienced a great loss, but this behavior is completely unacceptable."
In her minds eye Isabelle heard the shrieking of tires and she saw the blinking lights through the rain, she felt her brother's clammy, little hand on her own. She shook her head violently and looked at Ms. Bloom with a quiet intensity that was most unsettling. "You have no idea of my loss," she spit the word out as though the poison might infect her if she kept it in her any longer.
"Surely you can procure some kind of birth certificate." Mrs. Tralia said reasonably. "I mean Isabelle's right, I can't very well send her two thousand miles away from everything she's ever known without some more substantial evidence."
Ms. Bloom rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Oh, very well." She huffed and pulled out her want. She mumbled a few words and immediately a slip of paper appeared down the length of her wand. She tugged near the middle and the slip grew to the size of a piece of paper. "There you have it." She thrust it resentfully at Mrs. Tralia.
"Thank you." Mrs. Tralia said calmly and handed the paper to Isabelle.
Father: Remus Lupin
Mother's Maiden Name: Sarah Cummings
Name: Isabelle Ann Lupin
Date of Birth: September 5
Place of Birth: Raven Grove, KentUK
Isabelle suddenly felt very sick. This wasn't a dream. Her entire family was dead. Of all the people to come back from the dead, this biological father was her last choice. She stared at the sheet, her hands shaking.
"Now Mr. Lupin has been informed and has agreed to take the girl at the conclusion of this school year. I assume she shall stay with you, Mrs. Tralia, until that time?" Ms. Bloom said, getting back to business.
Mrs. Tralia nodded. "Of course." She said watching Isabelle carefully out of the corner of her eye. "It's been a very long day, Ms. Bloom, if we could wrap this up…"
"Yes all that's left is the discussion of Isabelle's inheritance." Ms. Bloom shifted some papers in her folder.
All the fire had gone out of Isabelle as she half listened to Ms. Bloom talk about her financial future. She didn't care how much was hers. She didn't care that she was well provided for. She felt like she might collapse any moment.
She heard Ms. Bloom's voice at a very great distance and all she could see and feel was that one slip of paper that seemed to weigh a hole in her hands. Suddenly she had the urge to rip it violently to pieces, to will this all to be a dream. She suddenly had a desperate thought. If only she could throw it into the fire, she could have everything back as it was. She could have her parents. Her real parents. She could have her baby brother.
She could visit Alex at daycare on her lunch break again instead of eating sandwiches by his grave with it's beautiful stone that she hated with every fiber in her being. A stone that read her reality indelibly.
Like this paper.
Suddenly her attention shifted back to the paper in her hand. She couldn't destroy a grave stone, but a piece of paper….
Ms. Bloom snatched the paper from her hands, a strange look on her face. Isabelle snapped back to reality with a blush. With a tap of Ms. Bloom's wand, the paper disappeared.
"Thank you Ms. Bloom, for everything." Mrs. Tralia said, pulling Isabelle to the door. Isabelle glanced back mournfully to fire before following Mrs. Tralia out the door.
The trees were beginning to blossom and all around Isabelle, the brown that had once filled the graveyard was slowly beginning to be replaced by pale greens and yellows. Isabelle was bitter about their appearance. She'd found the brown comforting and there was something disrespectful about rebirth in a graveyard. She glanced at her watch and knew she was expected back at the Tralia's very soon. She took a deep breath and laid flowers in front of the middle stone, her mother's.
Her heart was filled with anger and bitterness and an overwhelming sadness that threatened to overtake her.
"I hate you." She said passionately to the gravestones. "I hate you all! I hate you for lying to me." She threw a rose at her mother's grave,
"I hate you for leaving me here!" She cried at her father's gravestone.
"I hate you for being so young." She cried at her brother's gravestone. Suddenly she remembered his little blond curls and his big blue eyes and she fell to her knees.
"and I hate myself for living." She whispered and laid the last of the roses as tears streamed down her cheeks.