I shouldn't have just left it like that, I couldn't help but think. The miserable look on his face haunted me for the entire train ride home. Jeff and I bid Ashley and Aria a sad farewell, and hopped into the taxi my father had sent for us. By the time we arrived at the picturesque Starlight Boarding House, it was already late evening. I inhaled deeply as I got out of the cab. The air was cold, dry, and completely devoid of magic. It was stale in comparison to the air at Hogwarts, yet to me it was still inviting, in a way that only a home could be. "It feels good to be home," I said. Jeff helped the driver remove our trunks from the trunk of the cab, and tipped the man before he drove off.
"Yeah, it does," Jeff said. It occurred to me that he now considered the Starlight Boarding House home, as well.
The two of us looked up at the large, Victorian house. Though we couldn't see it well underneath the thick layer of snow, the house was painted a pale shade of green, with a dull white trim around the windows. Smoke was puffing out of the tall, brick chimney – there was little electric heat in the house – and as we approached I could smell dinner cooking.
I should have at least kissed him goodbye, I thought as we pushed our trolleys up the sidewalk, which had been shoveled and salted. Tugging our trunks up the front steps was a bit of a pain, and when we reached the door, Jeff decided to be a gentleman – though he didn't look like it, wearing makeup, a frilly dress, and knee-high platform boots – and hold the door open for me.
"Hello?" I called, dusting myself off in the entryway. Jeff and I both removed our coats, scarves, and other winter garments, hanging them on the empty hooks. I cupped my hands over my mouth and called out again, louder this time, "We're here!"
"I heard you the first time!" Nana snapped from the living room.
"Nana!" I screamed excitedly, dashing into the living room. Nana wasn't my real grandmother, but when I was growing up, I assumed that she was. She'd been living in the boarding house since before I was born. I grinned when I saw her, hunched over in her favorite rocker, listening to the radio.
The walls in the living room were covered with the ugliest, rose-covered wallpaper, and I had never been so happy to see it in my life. Even the hideous, ratty carpet looked gorgeous to me.
"Hello, Violet," Nana said, offering me a tiny, wrinkled smile.
It was more than I deserved. Last Christmas, I had rudely discarded the sweater she had knitted me – she always knitted sweaters for everyone – as an ugly piece of trash. It was such a cruel thing to do, even if I was stressed out about school, and even though her sweaters were ugly as sin. We hadn't spoken much since.
"I made a sweater for you," she said. "It's under the tree."
I wandered over to the Christmas tree. It wasn't a particularly large tree, but it was taller than me. It hadn't been decorated yet; that would happen later. I picked up the soft, purple sweater and sighed, "Nana, what did I say about your sweaters?"
She gasped, her face growing red with fury, "Well, if all you're going to do is gripe and complain, then maybe I should just shove that sweater right up your-"
"They're always so soft," I said, holding the garment up to my face. "Nana, thank you so much!"
She blinked at me, completely shocked as I wrapped my arms around her. After a few uncomfortable moments, she hugged me back.
"I'm sorry I've been so nasty to you," I said, pulling back. I grabbed her old, wrinkled hands and smiled at her. "I'm sorry, Nana. I really mean it."
"Violet…" she said blankly.
"Hey Naners," Jeff said, leaning on her chair with a smug grin. "Where's my sweater?"
She grumbled, crossing her arms, "What makes you think you're getting anything from me?"
"Awww, come ooooon," Jeff teased, tugging on her ear. "I know you secretly love me, like a long lost daughter."
Nana sighed, swatting his hand away from her face, "It's under the tree, Jeffery. Now get away from me before I hurt you."
He squealed girlishly, diving under the tree to receive his present. As we tugged on our new sweaters, Bert, the combination groundskeeper-bellhop, came downstairs to carry our trunks up to our room. Bert was a tall, built man with a thick head of dark hair and thick eyebrows to match. He tipped his hat at us before he disappeared upstairs.
"Ah, Violet," my father said, looking at me as if he weren't sure what he should do. During the horrific events of my sixth year, my father and I had grown apart; he wanted me to stay home, but my stubborn streak would not allow me to leave Hogwarts, even if my life was in danger. It broke his heart to send be back, knowing that it could have been the last time he saw me alive.
I've got a lot of repairing to do, I realized suddenly. My perfectionism had caused a rift between myself and the people I cared about. The old me had been so hateful to all these people over the past several years. I prayed that the new me was strong enough to put this mess back together.
"Daddy!" I squealed in a very Jeffish manner, throwing my arms around my father. We looked nothing alike. His hair was as pale as the sun, and mine was a dark chestnut hue. His eyes were so blue, and mine were gray. I took after my mother. "I missed you."
"I… missed you, too," he said, and I received my second awkward hug of the evening. It was nice; I hadn't hugged my father in many years.
I pulled out of it, however, when I saw my three year old sister, Coral, tottering down the stairs to meet me. Following after her was Damien, the son of one of our boarders, and Coral's playmate. I pulled both of the children into my arms, bursting into tears as I kissed Coral's curly golden hair.
"Ewwww, let go," Damien screamed, pushing me away.
I laughed, deciding not to take his words too personally as I lifted my sister into the air. She wrapped her small, chubby arms around my head, and I felt her drooling in my hair. That's a sign of forgiveness, right?
"Hi, Violet," Lutie greeted from the top of the stairs. Lutie was a skinny, homely girl of thirteen. She had dull brown hair, dull brown eyes, and dull white skin. Her cheeks were covered with freckles, making her appear as if someone had accidently spilt pepper on her face. She always dressed very plainly – though I suppose that was my fault, since most of her clothes were my hand-me-downs – and her new, shoulder-length haircut framed her face in an awkward way.
Wordlessly, I handed Coral to my father and walked up the creaky staircase, until I was face-to-face with Lutie. I looked into her dull, yet somehow still stunning brown eyes, feeling my own spilling over with tears yet again as I pulled her into an embrace.
"Hey!" she said resentfully, though she made no move to fight me off. "Bloody hell Violet, what's gotten into you?"
"D'awwww!" Jeff cooed as he watched the scene from the bottom of the staircase. "How sweet."
Lutie groaned, "You brought that home with you again? I thought I told you to leave the homo at school with all the other magical freaks."
"I'm not homo!" Jeff protested, crossing his arms.
I laughed, "Oh Lutie, I've missed you so much. You know I miss you when I'm away at school, right?"
There was a brief pause before she said, "You do?"
"Of course I do," I said, letting her out of our embrace.
"Violet," Mora – my father's new wife – greeted me as she stepped out of her bedroom, dressed up for dinner, as always. Mora had never liked me. She was a muggle with no taste for anything magical. Instead of sharing a loving embrace, we shook hands. Her hands were bony and cold, and I was glad when she let go abruptly.
Oh well, I thought to myself. We've never exactly had a good relationship to begin with. Baby steps and all that… "Mora," I said politely. "Good to see you."
"Violet!" Uncle Jack's voice boomed from the entryway. "Is that my Violet I hear up there?"
At last, someone who was thrilled to see me. Uncle Jack was a wizard – the only other magical being in the house – and had been like a second father to me growing up. As soon as he found out I was a witch, he moved into the house with us, to help me keep my powers in control until I started school.
Or, Mora, always said, to eat us out of house and home. Uncle Jack was a short, heavyset man, who vaguely resembled the Monopoly guy. He met me at the bottom of the stairs, and almost crushed me with his strong, meaty arms.
"Why are you all standing on the staircase?" Mrs. O'Grady, our cook, asked, looking at us as if we were truly mad – that look was plastered across her face quite often. In keeping with all the stereotypes about chefs, Betsy O'Grady was a large woman. Everything about her was big. Even her wild black hair had more volume than you can possibly imagine; she always kept it died down by a head wrap to keep it under control. "Especially when dinner's waiting in the kitchen."
"Ah, I miss your home cooking, Mrs. O'Grady," I said, standing on my tip-toes to kiss her puffy cheek, the way I used to when I was a little girl.
She grinned, "Finally, some appreciation. You need to come home more often, dear. You're about as thin as a rail. Do they even feed you at that godforsaken magic school?"
I laughed, "They feed us, Mrs. O'Grady."
"Hey!" Nana screamed from the living room. "Someone help me into the dining room! Or do you want me to starve to death in here?"
"That would be one solution to the problem," Lutie muttered darkly. She and Professor Snape would have been the best of friends, I decided.
"Oh, I've got this!" Jeff volunteered, slipping back into the living room.
"Not you!" I heard Nana scream as the rest of us filtered into the dining room. "Get your hands off of me, you… abomination!"
In the dining room, dinner was already set out on the long, antique table: a large plate of roast beef, two huge bowls of mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, and a huge pile of wheat roles. The beautiful French doors that lead out to the garden gave us the perfect view of the snow, which I could swear was begging me to run outside and build a snowman with it. None of the chairs at the table were from the same set, and the table cloth was covered with snowflakes.
Waiting for us at the table were the rest of the boarders. Sarah McGuff, the housekeeper and Lutie's mother, sat in her chair quietly, fidgeting with her hands under the table. If at all possible, Sarah was even more simple-looking than her daughter. Bert, who had fancied Sarah for ages, sat across from her, eyeing her bashfully. There were also Damien's parents, Larry and Jane Keats; a businessman and concert pianist respectively. Our newest boarder was the tall, lanky Stephen Yates, the young poet, just out of college. I greeted all of them with a smile as I sat down. Jeff arrived moments later with Nana in tow, and once she was settled down, he slipped into the seat next to me.
"How am I doing?" I whispered while the boarders went at the food like a pack of hungry animals. There would be no leftovers. There were never any leftovers.
Jeff gave me a thumbs up, "You're doing great."
After a very lively dinner, we gathered in the living room to decorate the Christmas tree. Bert and Mrs. McGuff strung long chains of freshly popped popcorn, having to beat off Uncle Jack every now and then. Mora, Dad, and Ms. O'Grady were off decorating the rest of the house. The little children hung feeble, home-made ornaments on the tree, while Jeff and the other adults hung the more fragile ones. Mrs. Keats played Christmas tunes on the grand piano, with a tipsy Stephen singing along.
I sat on the window seat, watching my family from a distance. My mind drifted back to Hogwarts, and to a certain Professor who I was hoping to avoid thinking about. It was useless, of course, and I knew it. I sighed, allowing myself to close my eyes and imagine him; his faded hair, his handsome features, his blue eyes…
"Hey," Lutie grunted as she sat down next to me, practically shoving the hot, ceramic mug into my hand. "It's hot chocolate."
I smiled, taking the mug from her. "Thank you, Lutie."
She tucked her legs underneath her, staring down into her own mug. "I… I miss you too, you know. I just don't like getting all gushy in public. It's embarrassing."
I leaned over and ruffled her hair, "I know."
"Stop that," she spat. "I told you, it's embarrassing…"
"Hehe, sorry," I apologized, sipping at my hot chocolate. But the taste only reminded me of Professor Lupin, and as I looked out at my family, I couldn't help but wish he were with me.