Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.
Written for The Eurovision Competition
Beta'd by Sam, who is a love.
Word Count - 1329
TRIGGER - Miscarriage
Her Calm In Her Storm
The storm raging on outside was nothing to the one raging inside of her. Her emotions striking like lightning as her mind rumbled like the loudest thunder. Rain ran down the windows of her room as tears ran down her cheeks.
She'd never expected to be in this position.
Charis stood behind her, brushing her long hair using the sweeping movements their mother had taught them.
"Are you excited?" she asked, her eyes shining in the mirror in front of them.
Cedrella met her eyes, and a small smile lifted her lips. "A little, I suppose."
"You suppose?" Charis asked, her eyebrows raising. "Cedrella, you're fifteen in a few short hours! The betrothals will come rushing in with the morning post, I have no doubt about it!"
Her smile widened slightly as she eyed her little sister in the mirror. It was sweet, how much faith Charis had in her. She'd be surprised if there were any betrothals in the morning. As important as a fifteenth birthday was in a girls life, the betrothals were usually held until the year between their sixteenth and seventeenth birthdays, when it became more clear if the girl had the hips for 'breeding.'
That was the main point of a betrothal, after all.
"That's enough, Charis, thank you," she murmured, stalling her sister's hand with the brush. "Come. Mother will want to ensure that our dresses are perfectly fitted for the ball tomorrow."
Cedrella remembered her sister's excitement for her. If only she'd known what would follow. If only any of them had known.
But Cedrella couldn't say a word. If she did, she'd be the one to be punished. She'd be the one to be banished from the family tree and the family home.
Disgraced.
Abandoned.
Alone.
She knew that no matter how strong she believed herself to be, she wouldn't be strong enough to survive in the world alone.
Besides, the strength she'd always thought she had had fallen at the first hurdle.
"You are truly the most beautiful girl in the world," he whispered, pressing soft kisses against her neck. She pushed him away half heartedly.
She could not pretend that she didn't enjoy his attentions. But his words were not enough.
His hands were very slowly moving down her back, gracing the very top of the waistband of her skirt.
"Caspar," she warned. "You know that we cannot."
"Cedrella," he murmured against her ear. "With the very next post, I shall have my father offer for your hand, I swear it. Please, my love."
She'd given into his promises. Somebody wanted her, and that had been enough for her to allow him his way. Rubbing a hand over her flat stomach, more tears fell down her flawless cheeks.
He'd acted strange in the weeks following that evening. Kept her at arm's length, even on the few occasions they were together in private. He looked shifty, and he would never meet her eyes with his own.
She should have expected it, and yet, it still came as a complete surprise.
She was so stupid not to have realised that he was merely using her.
"Today marks a momentous occasion!" their father announced, one morning a week after the girls had returned from Hogwarts.
"A request for betrothal has come in from the House Crouch!"
Cedrella felt herself relax in her seat. All of that worry for nothing. She cursed herself for getting so worked up over Caspar's behaviour.
"You'll be wed the summer following your completion of schooling, Charis. The contract is graceful enough to allow you your last year at Hogwarts," he told her, a smile on his lips. "The Crouch's are a relatively new family, my dear, but they are most certainly gaining standing very quickly. It will be an advantageous match!"
Cedrella wanted to leave the table but she was frozen in place, listening to her father's speech. Charis? Caspar had offered for Charis?
She didn't understand and the words didn't seem to make sense in her mind.
"Aren't you going to congratulate your sister, Cedrella?" her mother, Lysandra asked, a warning glint in her eyes.
"Of course," Cedrella choked out, drawing on her upbringing to keep the pain hidden. "Many congratulations on your upcoming nuptials, sister."
Charis smiled at her sympathetically, clearly misunderstanding her anguish.
"I am sure a contract will arrive for you shortly, sister," she soothed.
Cedrella could only nod, forcing herself to not cry until she could abandon the table for the comfort and safety of her room.
Now she was left in a mess of her own making and she had no idea what to do about it. Tomorrow, she'd return to Hogwarts for her last term.
She was seventeen, pregnant, and alone, with no prospect of a husband on the horizon.
…
"You didn't actually believe me, did you?" he asked, a sneer in his voice. "Come now, Cedrella. Any woman that would give up her innocence quite as easily as you did isn't exactly wife material."
She could only stare at his retreating back as he walked away from her.
She didn't know what she'd expected of him, but such harshness had shocked her to the core. When she'd informed him that she needed to speak with him, he'd agreed quietly, allowing her to lead him to the privacy at the back of the library.
Only when she'd questioned his motives with Charis had he turned nasty.
It dawned on her that he'd followed her with the hope that she might want a repeat of their night together. The very thought was enough to make her want to vomit.
"Are you okay?"
A soft voice shocked her from her thoughts and she turned quickly, too quickly. Dizziness made her stumble, but gentle hands caught her, steadying her.
"I'm fine, Weasley," she replied imperiously, shaking him off. "Thank you."
"Are you sure?" he pressed, and she could see the doubt and concern in his voice and his eyes.
She nodded mutely, turning away more slowly this time. She wouldn't allow anyone to see her break.
…
Red.
It stained her underwear as it stained her mind.
She wondered if it was her fault. She'd had thoughts that her life would be simpler, if only she didn't have to worry about the baby growing inside of her.
Of course it was her fault.
She couldn't get anything right.
…
"I, uh, can I talk to you?"
Cedrella glanced up from the book she was reading. Septimus Weasley stood at the door to the carriage she'd been travelling alone in.
Only manners long instilled in her allowed her to close her book, waving him into the seat across from her. She'd noticed him watching her more and more over the term, though they hadn't spoken again after the episode in the library.
"I have considered asking my father to offer for your hand," he said, running a nervous hand through his hair. "But I, uh, wanted to ask if that was something you wanted first."
Cedrella raised an eyebrow. "It is for my father to decide upon a suitable betrothal for me."
His eyes widened. "I wouldn't want you to marry me, if you didn't think you could be happy," he replied after a moment's pause. "I would like a happy life, and a miserable wife would be counterproductive."
The train pulled into the station as she stared at him.
Standing, she pulled her cloak around her shoulders. "I would not be… unhappy, if such an offer were to be made," she said eventually, before pulling the door open.
Her parents would be awaiting her and Charis.
It would not do to keep them waiting. As she debarked the train, she caught sight of red hair on the other end of the platform, and a moment later, saw Septimus greeting his parents cheerfully.
Their eyes met for a brief moment.
Cedrella felt… hope.
Perhaps she had finally found her calm after her storm.