A Funeral and a Façade
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Folklore: (Task 6) Write about someone who has been married more than once.
WC: (407)
Sophia admired herself in the mirror as she applied her makeup. She'd always been a vain woman, and to be fair, she had a lot to be arrogant about. Her luscious raven locks cascaded like a waterfall down to her waist. She had a perfect hourglass shape and worked hard to obtain it. Men always stopped to stare at her, amazed by her beauty. Sophia rarely paid any attention to them unless they were rich. Her one true love was galleons and lots of them.
Her now dead husband had generously left her everything in his will. Now she had the easy job of playing the grieving widow to perfection. She cast a perceptive eye over her face in the mirror, feeling satisfied when she found no blemishes or imperfections. Sophia stood up and looked approvingly at her outfit. Black suited her well, which was good considering she'd be wearing it often for the next few months.
"Ah, the grieving widow herself, looking crippled with sorrow."
Sophia turned to look at her son angrily. "Show some respect, Blaise! Your stepfather has died, and we're burying him today."
Blaise treated her with his usual smirk as he drawled his reply. "So sorry, my dear Mother, I know how devastating this is for you. Husband number seven now, isn't it? Let's hope that next time, you find happiness and manage to keep it."
It was impossible for her to miss the sarcasm dripping from his voice, but she bit her tongue. "Thank you for your comforting words, my darling son. Now, we should make our way downstairs. Our guests will soon be arriving."
"Of course, Mother. What fun would your little façade be without witnesses?" Blaise asked her dryly before sauntering out of the room like he owned the world. Sophia hoped he wouldn't give the game away. Sophia cast a final glance around the room she once shared with her late husband, smiling as she imagines the galleons she'll get from selling his things. He wouldn't need them anymore, and the man had an eccentric taste. Her eyes landed on an expensive watch that was lying on the bedside table.
Arriving at the bottom of the stairs, Sophia saw that her guests were waiting. She plastered on a small, mournful smile and bowed her head; the very picture of a woman torn apart by loss, but doing her best to be dignified. She'd perfected the art, after all.
