You all make this a lot more special than it ever could be sitting in our drives collecting dust. Here is another chapter!

Disclaimer: We do not, and never will own the rights to any familiar characters or original Harry Potter world ideas. They belong respectively to the original author, J.K. Rowling.

26 August 2013

Burr, Ireland

The Riverwalk

My time at the Sudrach cottage was a mix of disorder, chaos, and life.

I woke up to the sound of pots, the waft of coffee, and the soft murmur of voices. The sun was just peaking its light through the airy, lace curtains of Cara's room, spilling over the floor. There was a warmth in the air that I'd never experienced before, even as my bare feet met the morning chilled floor. I made sure to make up Cara's blue sheets to perfection before throwing on a pair of denim shorts and tucking in a blouse. I spent a lot of time packing for this trip, trying not to appear as if I came from money, but also trying not to look like a mess. Spending time with Wynn's family was an entirely new experience for me, and not having even the slightest bit of control over the situation was putting me into a frazzled state.

With my wild waves tamed into a braid, I finally opened the door only to come face to face with Wynn.

"Oh, good morning."

His dimpled smile lit up the room, "Good morning! Coming down for breakfast? Mum is the best cook."

I merely nodded, smoothing my hair self consciously. I spoke with them very little yesterday. How did I need to act? How did I make them like me?

Why do you care?

I had asked myself that same question for almost two years, and the answer was always selfish.

Because I want to.

I wanted this. I wanted to be around genuine people with good intentions. I wanted a few days without grandmother breathing down my neck, or the cold walls of a hollow mansion surrounding me.

"You don't have to do that, you know."

"Huh?"

Wynn was leaning down to look me in the eyes, his eyebrows drawn together. He was searching for something, and gave me a frown when he found it. "You don't have to be perfect. Don't pretend to be anyone you aren't when you're here."

One problem: Who was I exactly? Without my family name, without my family's reputation, without the ideologies instilled inside my head, I wasn't anyone. Who was I becoming now that I was trying to move on from my blood hate, from my own self?

When Wynn's frown turned back into that familiar smile, the part of me that wanted this overshadowed my doubts, and I allowed him to take my hand and lead me down the stairs.

The smell of grease and home cooked food overwhelmed me, and strangely reminded me of the Great Hall during feasts. At home, the smell of cooking always stayed in the kitchen with the house elves. Grandmother didn't appreciate the smell of cooked food wafting through the manor. Wynn let go of my hand and all but raced to the kitchen. I watched as he snuck up behind his mother and reached his hand slowly around her side, aiming for the bacon currently resting on a plate ready to be taken to the dining room. His slim fingers just grazed the edge of the plate before the woman took notice and whirled on him, slapping his hand away.

"Ouch, Mum!"

Wynn looked pathetically wounded, clutching the tormented hand to his chest, tall form hunched over slightly. The petite woman held no sympathy in her blue eyes as she looked up at him. "Serves you right. I raised you better than to act like a starving animal."

I struggled to contain my giggles with a hand firmly over my mouth.

"I'm a growing boy!" He exclaimed, that quirky grin slipping back onto his face. I watched the mother son duo bicker, and wondered briefly if I would have had the same relationship with my mum.

The grin slid off my face as I contemplated the idea of a death eater showing compassion. Nevermind.

"Circe?" Wynn was in front of me again, still smiling, always smiling.

"I'm fine, just a bit hungry."

Mrs. Sudrach appeared behind her son, pan in hand, "I hope it's more than a bit. I've prepared enough food to feed a team of Aurors."

The dining room was just as cozy as the rest of the house, a simple handcarved table with a bench on the side against the wall and chairs of similar texture and style placed accordingly. I followed Wynn to the bench, and found comfort in the way his knee occasionally brushed against mine. Mrs. Sudrach began heaping food onto plates just as Colman came skidding around the corner with Mr. Sudrach hot on his heels. The small, auburn haired child slid in beside me eagerly, gazing up at me with a gap tooth smile. I smiled back as he began to chat with me about Muggle things I'd never heard of. Brigid came skipping into the room not long after, tugging a robe clad, sleepy eyed, and stumbling Cara into the room behind her. Out of all the Sudrachs, I would never have expected Cara to not be the morning person, considering her bright personality at any other given hour of the day.

Meals at the manor had always been filled with deafening silence, only broken by the small pinging of cutlery on a porcelain plate. I spent most meals alone at a table too big and in a room too cold. The chatter of the Sudrach's at their intimate family table filled me with warmth. They occasionally engaged me in their mass conversation, but somehow sensed that I was much more inclined to listen. Wynn's family was...unique. They weren't like anything I'd been raised to believe a family of half bloods would be.

After breakfast, Mrs. Sudrach even let me help with the dishes, or more appropriately taught me how to wash them.

"You know, Circe, I'm fully aware of the consequences you might endure if you were caught here."

My breath caught in my throat, and my washing ceased. How did she-

"I know the signs. Wynn doesn't tell us much, but he has voiced some of his concerns. Seeing you for the first time only furthered my assumptions."

I returned to washing, keeping my eyes averted. "I'm afraid," my voice betrayed me so I cleared it and started again. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

Mrs. Sudrach shifted to start cleaning the counters. "Your posture, your diction, your actions, they're from years of disciple and practice. The hesitance you have to be friends with my son, and the detached countenance you often wear when you feel you're being watched. I know what it's like."

Something akin to rage flashed through me, so hot and quick I didn't have time to suppress it. My hands clenched the cup I was washing and it shattered in my hands, "You don't have any idea what it's like to live in the hell I've been through."

Her rag came down a bit harshly on the counter next to me, and her blue eyes bore boldly into mine. "My maiden name is Shafiq, and my sister was a death eater."

I flinched visibly has her words hit me a little too close to home. My hands were starting to sting from the cuts the shattered cup had inflicted, but with a flick of her wrist, the cuts were gone. I stared at her silently, waiting for her to explain further.

"I grew up in a large Manor as you have, with two parents who cared more about appearances and their jobs within the ministry than they did about my sister and me. My family members were proud Ravenclaws, every last one of them, and I secretly hated that sorting hat for years after I was sorted into Hufflepuff. My sister had done everything right, which only furthered my cause to be perfect. I was prefect, Head Girl, and at the top of every class with OWLS that shined like gold compared to my fellow classmates. No matter how hard I fought against those Hufflepuff traits, I couldn't do it, even after I started working for the ministry." She sighed heavily, as if even telling this story drained her. "It was on a mass mission to the outskirts of Ireland in pursuit to obliviate a group of muggles that I met Declan. We fell in love fast, though he knew nothing of my wizarding heritage. I kept him a secret from my own family for as long as I could, but when I became pregnant with Wynn, I knew the truth had to come out at both ends. My family stripped my of my name and threw me out. Labeling me a blood traitor, a muggle lover. I expected no less mercy from Declan when I apparated into his living room that night, shivering and sobbing, but he accepted me fully, and proposed to me right then. When Voldemort began his coup, I had been devastated to hear that my own sister had joined his ranks. She and her husband were killed in battle. I wanted to fight, but Wynn was only six months at the time, so we stayed hidden in the muggle world until it was safe to settle down."

She stared at the far wall, lost in past memories. I gripped the edge of my shorts like a lifeline as I waited patiently for her to come out of it. The rage had subsided, leaving me slightly drained, but in its place something else washed over me. It was foreign, but I knew the word for it.

Relief.

I hadn't had anyone who knew what it was like to carry the burden of perfection after my brother left. Now I did.

Mrs. Sudrach turned her far away gaze on me, something flashing in her eyes. "You can be exactly who you are in the house," she finally told me. "And you can trust my son with your life. Remember that."

Screaming. Merlin it was so dark. Who was screaming? The pitch rose, piercing the darkness, ringing, haunting. The darkness was moving, swirling. An inky blot, resisting the darkness' unnatural flow, was coming forward. Closer, closer, it continued to draw closer, feeding off of the fear, the terror. Hopelessness, depression, anxiety.

I awoke with a gasp. Fear dug its claws into my chest cavity, but every tactic I had once used to chase away the panic wasn't working. The fluttering of lace curtains and dancing shadows only filled me with apprehension. Could I? The shuffle of footsteps above gave me the answer, and I flew out of Cara's bed and to the closet door which encased the stairs to the attic. Once I had quietly made my way up, I knocked lightly on the trap door. There was a small click before it swung open, and I was confronted with Wynn's face just a bit too close to mine for the second time that day.

"Circe? Are you alright?"

I thought about lying, already regretting having come here in my moment of weakness, but I thought back to what his mum had said to me earlier that day.

"You can trust my son with your life."

So, I did. "No," I breathed. "I'm not."

Surprise flickered in his warm blue eyes,"Oh, alright. Well, come on up." He offered his hand down to me and helped me up through the gap.

Wynn had conveniently left his room out of the tour, but I wasted no time in glancing around. It was unsurprisingly Hufflepuff. The walls were a soft yellow with a single black stripe running along the top and bottom, and his haphazardly made bed and pillows matched accordingly. Ryuu lounged in the corner, half in and half out of his open cage that rested atop Wynn's trunk. Pictures, some moving some still, covered his walls and any open surface, with photo albums and books occupying two book cases along the back wall. A blue and yellow painting hung above his bed, and a yellow scarf was peeking out from the doors of his wardrobe. There were two other doors in his room, but I decided not to be nosy.

"What's wrong?"

Wynn rubbed a hand through his curls, making them stand on end. I wondered if my intrusion was putting him on edge. I quit analysing his room.

"I had a nightmare. I mean, I get them all of the time, but this one felt different. Real, almost as if it was more of a memory than a dream."

His demeanor changed immediately, and he turned into the Wynn I only ever caught glimpses of: serious, attentive, quiet. It was always unnerving, but tonight I appreciated it. We moved to sit facing each other on the bed as I began to let him into the places of my mind no one else had been before.

"My parents...They're death eaters, locked up in Azkaban and have been for a very long time. According to my grandmother, when my father found out my mother was pregnant during the war with me, he couldn't fathom the idea of her hurt, so he ratted her out to some Aurors and they locked her up. I was born in a dark cell seven and a half months later, too early for this world and right in the heat of war. My mother she...she didn't even get the chance to hold me. I lived in an orphanage until the war ended and my grandmother claimed guardianship over my brother and me." I refused to look Wynn in the eye, keeping my focus on the mysterious painting behind him. "I don't remember that part of my life, but sometimes I think that's where my nightmares come from, that some subconscious part of me is still baring the scars of my infanthood."

We both remained quiet for a long time, but it wasn't a silence I minded. His even breathing and steady presence began to sooth my anxiety. When he did speak up, his question caught me off guard.

"What's your brother's name?"

I sighed. It had been so long since I even let myself think about him.

"Caesar. After that muggle warrior guy from Roman Mythology."

Wynn smiled, "What is he like? Where is he now?"

"Well, Caesar is...different. He always has been. He never fit in with any of the pureblood friends grandmother tried to set him up with. He refused to have a girlfriend or even fraternize with a girl, especially if she was on grandmother's radar. When he was sorted into Ravenclaw, she began to hate him. His grades were phenomenal, and he was Head Boy, but that didn't matter to her. When he refused any position offered to him at the ministry, grandmother disowned him and forbid me to speak with him. Caesar was determined, strong, and compassionate. He wanted to work with underprivileged wizards and witches around the world. Last I heard he was somewhere in South Africa, but that was a little more than a year ago."

He scooted closer to me, and threw his long arms across my shoulders, pulling me into his chest. If MacKendrick or any other boy had pulled something like this without my okay I would have had a wand to their throat, but this was Wynn, my best friend. For now, I let myself be held, breathing in him, and the smell I would forever associate with Ireland.