"A well-wishing on the birthday of our savior! To Amaryllis Potter!"
The guests raised a cheer, their glasses held high in a toast. A man with a curled mustache and too large dress pants grinned brightly at the guest of the hour. The salute lasted only a few moments, the champagne-filled glasses soon empty as the party continued to move. Hundreds of witches and wizards in dress robes floated around the venue, chatting to one another but their eyes always flittered back to the family on the podium.
The magicals lined up, one by one racing to shake hands with the Girl-Who-Lived. A birthday bash planned in her honor, hundreds had attended. Lords and Ladies of all walks of life come to give their greetings. The said girl smiled amicably, a tense smile on her young face as she faced the strangers. A long table rested behind them, piled high with neatly wrapped presents, colorful papers, and strings.
Exhaustion was hidden behind the girl's gaze. Her cheeks red with exertion, her eyes watering from the effort of staring into cameras too long. At this moment, Amaryllis Potter wished she was anywhere else. She looked glassy-eyed into the camera, emptiness in her polite smile. The Photographer displayed the magical pictures of the family, balloons of white, red, and pink in the background.
Lily Potter smiled her lips tinted red, her long red hair gathered in a beautiful updo, her face painted with exact shades of color to highlight the colors of her long gown. One arm delicately placed on her daughter's shoulder, a feather of touch as she had her other wrapped around her husband's waist. James Potter kept one arm around his wife's shoulder, and his other clamped around his daughter's shoulder. He had a proud grin, showcasing all of his pearly white teeth.
Every detail was perfectly in place.
The photographer moved on, choosing to photograph the happy guests, loaded up on hor d'oeuvres and gift bags that cost more than their salaries. For the first time in hours, no eyes watched every move of the eleven-year-old.
Like a doll with its strings cut, Amaryllis Potter slumped over. Her shoulders bent under the world's weight, losing two inches on her height as she balanced in the too-tall heels which dug into the back of her soles. Irritation and exhaustion bundled in her throat, refusing to be swallowed away. Her palms stung from shaking too many times, her head dizzy from the flood of half-hearted compliments thrown her way.
Her graces were too shallow for these guests to bury themselves in.
For the thousandth time that afternoon, the girl's hazel-colored eyes searched through the crowds, hoping to catch of a glimpse of emerald green. Left with a bad taste in her mouth, the young now eleven-year-old unsure if the expensive fourteen-layer cake was the cause or the pleasantries she'd been forced to spit out.
With a small sigh, barely noticeable, she shuffled on her feet, dropping any hint of politeness for a single moment. She attempted to relieve the tension in her poor swollen feet, a reprieve from the high heeled monstrosities she'd been shoved in for the last nine hours. Her aching feet deserved rest but the puff pastry shoes digging into her blistered skin held no comfort.
Her father's hand sharply dug into her shoulder, catching her attention as she immediately returned to her perfected smile. 'Smile and you're always a winner,' She recited. Perfect was the only picture in this dollhouse.
An older, posh man with a delicate mustache approached them, his hands wrinkled and calloused from use as he shook her own smaller ones. His eyes twinkled in delight, as if holding a secret she wouldn't know.
"Finally eleven, eh? You'll be heading to Hogwarts then?" He asked, a slimy grin crossing his features. He was missing several of his yellowed teeth she noticed.
She kept her polite look, happy to respond. "Yes, sir. I am very excited."
The man's smiled dropped half a centimeter, his eyes narrowing onto her form. His hand clenched a fraction tighter around her smaller hand. Warningly, her father's hand squeezed her shoulder and she could feel his eyes on her back.
Realizing she had come off too dry, she snapped her mouth shut, intent on never speaking again. She didn't succeed in convincing the man, who now looked suspiciously between her parents as if accusing them with his eyes.
Drawing a breath, she placated him with a kindly smile, "I apologize, sir. It has been a long day. I admit to being a bit tired."
The man mollified if only a bit at the sight of her charming smile. "It certainly has, hasn't it. I wish you a happy birthday, Miss Potter."
"Thank you for coming, Lord Pruitt," Her mother said, her voice honeyed as the man finally dropped Mara's hand to take the Lady Potter's.
The pushy cameraman was back now, a huge grin on his slimy face as he snapped picture after picture of the happy family, joined hands with a Lower Noble house. Pruitt was an Elder House, if Mara remembered correctly, one who had stayed neutral in the war. Of course, after the war was over and bodies had piled up, they'd claimed to be on the winning side the whole time.
Mara tuned out of the conversation, allowing her parents to take over as she gave a bright smile, trying to keep the resentment and distaste off her face. Mara had taken etiquette lessons for seven years but had yet to learn how to perfect the pureblood mask.
The next stranger was up now. One she actually recognized.
"Congratulations on reaching your eleventh birthday, Miss Potter," The Grimy man smirked, his teeth on display like a threat as he crowded her. He was much taller than the other guests, towering over her short form. His platform shoes giving him a lift, she thought with a bitter smile.
He took her wrist into his hand, as if touching something dirty but squeezed tightly. Enough that she had to hide a wince and knew there would be a blooming bruise tomorrow.
A shiver went up to her spine as Mara forced herself to still, to not pull away from his forceful grin, not to shrink back from his leering eyes or his commanding grip on her wrist.
Instead, she smiled. "Thank you, Lord Maynard, for your kind wishes. I'm glad you could be here to celebrate my achievements."
'Like destroying your master,' Mara thought inwardly. Her smile dipped just a bit to the right, a little too sharp to be innocent.
Maynard's eyes narrowed on her form, his nostrils flaring at the hidden meaning of her words. Mara knew he couldn't call her out on it, as did he but that didn't stop him from inwardly seething about it.
He retracted his hand, not saying anything further but Mara knew with the support of her parents behind her, he could do nothing. He ducked his head, barely a tilt before storming off into the crowd.
Mara inwardly smirked at her win. She caught her mother's stern glance, her hand squeezing her shoulder a bit but not in anger. Her father winked at her, his shoulders shaking a bit from his silent laughter.
To her delight, Lucius Malfoy had not attended this year. Mara had first met when she was six. He had given her the creeps as he implied her to be a good bride for his son. She'd never met the so-called son but seeing her father's face lit up in a rage, she knew he would not even be a candidate.
Her mind wandered as she searched the crowds once more. She had hoped after the hours of standing her, she'd spot the emerald green she wanted but there was nothing.
Her exhaustion finally winning against her, Mara looked up at her mother's emerald green eyes, the same color as the ones she had been searching for. She gave her a plastic smile, trying to remain calm.
"May I be excused, mother?"
Her mother shot her a stern look but the exhaustion must've been showing on Mara's face as she silently nodded. Her father squeezed her shoulder in support before letting her go.
After hours of standing in the same place, It was a miracle she didn't stumble as she made her way off the podium. Pictures continued to flash in the peripheral vision but all Mara was focused on was the doors leading inside.
She left the backyard, the party raging in the background as she around, avoiding the straggling guests. At last, she entered the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her.
She took a moment to breathe, to splash water on her face. She caught her own reflection in the mirror and her face scrunched up in disgust. She looked like a big, fluffy pink cupcake with red icing. Her skin was pale but her cheeks were bright red, as they usually wore during hot events like these. Her red hair, having been curled delicately down her back in a style that took her mother hours to do, was messy and coming undone now. Drips of water dropped off her nose, her eyes, hazel with flecks of green and amber, were tired, dimmer than normal.
She was dressed in a lacy bright pink dress with a white bow on the back, somehow making her look even younger than she already was. She shifted in the dress, pulling at the delicate fabric to make it more comfortable but there was nothing to be done. She wouldn't be happy until she was in her pajamas, snug and tight in her warm bed.
She sighed deeply and leaned down to unlatched the buckle around her ankles, allowing her to slip off the dreaded death traps her mother called shoes.
The relief was palpable as she sighed, leaning her head back. Her feet ached, her legs are wobbly from standing so long.
All she wanted was a nap, a very, long nap.
And maybe some chocolate.
Mara left her shoes in the bathroom, slipping out into the memorized halls of the Manor. She managed to avoid the guests, heading to one of the varying back doors. She stepped outside, facing towards the green forests surrounding their property.
A trail led deep into the forest and Mara knew this is exactly the path he had taken. She lifted up one of her mother's upside flower pots, slipping her worn-out sneakers from under them. It took a moment to slip them on and tie them.
'If the purebloods out there sipping champagne could see her wonderful, dirty muggle shoes,' she thought smugly, 'then they wouldn't come back here at all.'
Honestly, she was tempted but she had also taken etiquette lessons and been drilled about the importance of public image. Despite how much she hated it, she had influence, and taking that away meant giving more power to the aristocrats.
That didn't mean she couldn't be bitter about it though.
Mara grinned as she grabbed the purse hidden behind the mounds of fabric in her dress, slipping carefully in a pocket her mother didn't know she had crafted. Inside the little change purse, was a handful of sweets she had stolen from the party, snuck into the bag when her parents weren't looking and the cameras too busy with the decorations.
She slipped out a perfect cupcake with pink frosting, slightly smushed from where it had been crammed but tasty all the same. She bit into it, ignoring the frosting getting on her face as she finally, finally, headed to the woods.
She couldn't bring herself any bit of remorse for leaving the party early, even if it was her own. Today was her birthday and she wasn't spending a single minute more with the slimy, sly purebloods or the pushy, loud press.
No, instead, Mara escaped her duties and took off into the forest, her feet taking her along the familiar road to the one person she desperately wanted to see right now.
Though the sun was just beginning to set, the light still glittered through the branches of the forest. Animals and birds scurried through the woods, none paying mind to the young boy, who sat poised and still on a tree branch three feet high, his nose stuck in a book.
He seemed undisturbed, relax, and at home in the flurry of noises around him. His foot tapped on the ground absent-mindedly as he leaned into the trunk of the tree. Beside him on the forest floor, sat a grey backpack, opened slightly.
His eyes flickered down the pages, lazily turning them once he had absorbed their words. His concentration kept only for the literature he held.
A fluttering of wings nearby disturbed him as he looked up from his book. A small robin on the forest floor, colors faded, her head titled as she viewed him as if waiting for something.
His lips quirked into a smile at the audacity, only a few steps from where he rested. Slowly and openly, he shut his book, slipping his thumb into the page he was on. With his other hand, he reached down into the backpack. There was a rustle of paper, something crackling as the little bird took a few steps back, wary but too curious to fly away.
He pulled out a piece of a cracker and threw it towards the bird. She fluttered briefly to avoid it but didn't move too far. The bird looked at him once more before picking up the cracker with its beak and taking off into the trees with only a beat of it's wings.
The boy was about to turn back to his book when he heard a distant shout. He pulled a bookmark from behind his ear, replacing his thumb with it, and shut his book. He slid it into his bag, quickly gathering any other objects he had, zipping it up, and threw it onto his back. He stood on the tree branch, reaching up to climb up the tree, limb by limb.
Almost effortlessly, he grabbed the tree branches, hauling himself up with dexterity. Once feet from the ground, he pulled himself up, hiding in the branches as he heard the rustling of something big.
He stilled, making no noise except for the still fumbling creature and the slight rustle of the branches from the wind. He focused on the voice, not able to hear clearly but a suspicion already burrowing into his mind.
The creature stumbled into the clearing with a loud, "Harry!"
Harry let a smile grace his features as he saw what looked oddly enough like a pink cupcake with red icing below his feet.
"Ow," The figure stopped and began attempting to tear away from what looked like a bramble bush. She shouted his name once more, slightly more urgently as she pulled from the shrub she was caught in.
Harry rolled his eyes fondly and cautiously slipped down the branch. The figure paused, looking up as he climbed down easily like a swimmer cutting through the water.
He jumped a few feet down, landing solidly and the girl in front of him jumped in fright, barely managing to keep upright by holding onto a nearby tree.
"Mara," He mocked, annoyingly at her, amusement clear on his face at her predicament. She glared at him, her frilly pink dress caught in, sure enough, a bramble bush. She struggled a bit more, much to his amusement before sending him a look that clearly screamed for help.
Rolling his eyes, he helped her out, untangling the fabric from the bush though he couldn't help a few parts ripping. They'd both get a stern lecture for that but that was a future Harry problem.
She hugged, glaring at the dress once she was free. She smoothed it down, avoiding any rips or tears the struggle had caused. She looked at the dress as if it had personally offended her and he was pretty sure more than one person had today. She turned her glare on him, crossing her arms.
"You didn't show up. Again," She accused.
"Don't be such a drama queen," He told her, turning to walk the way she came, out of the forest.
"I'm not a drama queen!" She proved his point, "And you abandoned me with all those old geezers." She pouted, following him, holding the frilly fabric of her dress in both hands. She paused a few times to escape the tree branches and bushes.
"Those old geezers came to wish you a happy birthday," Harry grinned as she narrowed her eyes, "The-Girl-Who-Lived finally turns eleven, about to attend Hogwarts for her very first year! Oh, such a momentous occasion, will she finally surpass Merlin himself?" Harry cried dramatically, giving her a huge teasing grin.
She glared at him halfheartedly but the laugh was already escaping her. "I already told Mum I wasn't doing this next year."
"Why not?" He hummed, "Free presents. You only need two more brooms to have every cloudsweep."
He felt her smack his arm and chuckled, shoving his arm around her in a one-armed hug. "I'm just hugging. The public is going to throw a fit if you don't though."
She sighed and nodded. "Yeah, but at least I can have a proper party with you and Neville next year instead of this. Can't we just pretend all three of us were born on the 30th?" She pouted up at him.
He shook his head, "Sadly, it's not to be, little sister."
"But that makes it so much easier, Harry," She whined, sounding like a spoiled toddler.
Harry rolled his eyes as the path suddenly cut off, the manor in the brief distance as the two siblings approached. The sun was beginning to set, just barely above the manor's tall peak's, more shadows spanning across the manicured lawn. Lost in thought, Harry didn't spot his mother's signature flaming hair until it was too late.
"Harry James Potter! Amaryllis Lilian Potter! What do you think you two are doing?" She practically screamed as she stormed across the lawn. Somehow, the setting sun behind her made her look like a ball of fire coming at them.
Their father was nowhere to be found but that didn't mean they weren't in trouble.
Instinctively, Harry raised his hands in innocence.
Her hands on her hips and her green eyes narrowed at the two of the, Harry risked a glance at his twin who was frozen, her fingers picking at her nails in nervous habit.
He'd be the one to answer then.
"I was reading in the forest and Mara came looking for me." He knew it sounded like he threw his twin under the bus as she shot him a glare but Harry was more worried about his mother's reaction.
Their mother turned on Mara, narrowing her eyes dangerously.
"You left me and your father to clean up after you, Amaryllis. He's still trying to placate them after your disappearance. What on earth were you thinking?" She demanded. Mara avoided their mother's eyes.
"I-" She briefly opened her mouth to defend herself but their Mum cut her off.
"No, I don't even know want to know! You have no excuse for your behavior." Their mum's face scrunched up in horror as she finally caught sight of Mara's appearance. Her hair out of sorts, curls wild and everywhere and her dress ripped and torn up.
"What did you do to your dress?" Mum said horrified, reaching forward to brush dirt off of the dress and then licking her thumb and rubbing it along a dirt spot on Mara's cheek.
"Mum!" Mara complained, trying to duck away but their mum only sent her a harsh look and the girl huffed, allowing her mum to clean her face off.
Their mum groaned in exasperation, looking over Mara's attire, "This is the sixth dress you've ruined this year. Go get cleaned up."
Mara opened her mouth to protest but Their mum shot her a glare.
"No buts. Go. Now." Their mum pointed to the door, firm in her stance.
Mara grumbled but sulkily crossed the lawn, heading into the house.
"Shoes!" Their mum called out, watching her move with exasperation.
Mara silently plucked her shoes off her feet, her white tights now splattered with mud. Their Mum groaned at the sight.
Mara slipped into the house, sending Harry a grimace as she vanished from sight.
Harry knew he was in trouble as their Mum whirled on him now. She crossed her arms, turning to him demandingly.
Harry shuffled, avoiding the green of her eyes.
"You skipped the party again," Mum stated.
Harry smartly decided not to reply.
Lily sighed, her anger replaced now by exhaustion and acceptance. "Come on. Tilly made dinner. She thought you would enjoy some Treacle tart."
Harry shot up, suppressing a smile at the kind house-elves actions.
Lily smiled, rolling her eyes as she slipped an arm around his shoulders, the tension fleeing off her as she hugged him close. The two of them walked back to the house in comfortable silence.
Mara sat at the dinner table, clutching a steaming mug in her fingers. Sipping the dark-colored drink, she sighed once more. The chocolatey flavor was simply divine to her cocoa riddled brain. On the table in front of her lay the remnants of wrappers that used to contain chocolate frogs. She idly used one hand to search through them, attempting to find one she hadn't eaten to bits.
She pouted when she didn't find any, turning her pleading look to her mother.
"You've had enough, Mara," Their Mum said sternly.
Mara gave her an offended look, "You can never enough chocolate frogs!"
"I'm going to kill Remus," She sighed.
"Long Live Chocolate Frogs!"
"I'm going to double kill him."
"Viva la Chocolate!"
Harry smirked, finishing up the slice of dessert he was eating.
"Kill who?" Their Dad yawned as he walked into the kitchen. He paused at Mara's pleading, wide eyes, her face covered in melted chocolate and his wife's exasperated look. He chuckled, sliding into the free seat next to Harry.
"Moony didn't mean to get her hooked on chocolate, it just-"
At Mum's warning glance, he wisely shut up. He slumped down, digging into the dinner plate at his spot.
"Where were you, Dad?" Mara asked, sipping once more on her hot chocolate.
"Since somebody," He pointedly look at Mara, "decided to run out of the party, I had to close it out. It took forever to get some of them out. Diggle can talk forever, I swear to Merlin."
Harry and Mara snickered into their desserts.
"Then I tried to call Sirius or Remus but Sirius is on a date," He pouted, stuffing a forkful of treacle tart into his mouth.
"We just saw him yesterday," Mara giggled.
"You'll get your husband back later, James," Their mum told him, her lips quirking into a smile.
Mara shared a look of amusement with Harry. Silence reigned across the table, only the sound of their scraping forks and Mara's obnoxious slurping of her drink.
"That reminds me," Their Dad said suddenly, "Somebody was missing during today's party."
He looked directly at Harry, who ducked his head to avoid his father's expectant eyes.
After a few minutes of silence, it was clear his dad wasn't going to give up on this. Harry sighed loudly, giving in.
"I was out reading," He muttered sullenly.
"So you decided to skip your birthday party again?" Their Dad frowned. Their mum sighed, sharing a look with her daughter as they both knew where this was going.
"You mean Mara's party," Harry muttered bitterly, scraping his fork purposeful on the plate. Mara winced at the noise and shrunk into her chair as their Dad's face darkened.
"Both of you. We've been over this, Harry. You have expectations as a Potter, especially the heir to attend these-"
"I don't care!" Harry finally snapped back, "I'm not going to stand around with those conceited dolts who only care about how much money we have!"
James narrowed his eyes as they both glared at one another, neither backing down.
"James-" Their mum tried to intervene but fot cut off by her husband's anger.
"Nobody likes it anymore than you do but it's just how it is," Dad growled out, standing from his chair.
Harry glared up at him, "I'm not the special one so why should I go? None of them even know I exist!"
There was a sudden jump as Harry stood up from his chair and stormed away.
"Harry!" Their Dad growled out after him. Harry ran out of the kitchen, his footsteps echoing as he climbed the staircase.
Distantly, a door slammed shut.
Mum turned to Dad, worriedly. She reached out her hand towards his arm but he pulled away and stormed out as well.
Mara looked at the table, her nails scratching at her nails. She winced as she pulled too hard, blood welling up in the injury. Her lips trembled as she fought the urge to cry, not from the pain. Staring at the few drops of blood, Mara cursed everything. She cursed her birthdays and Voldemort, the press, and the wizarding world.
Most of all, she cursed herself. Shame and guilt welled into her stomach, her brain repeated spilling into thoughts that everything was her own fault.
Their Mum took a seat next to Mara and sighed as she spied Mara's injured finger. She took Mara's hand in one hand, her wand in the other as she cast a few spells to fix her injury right up.
Once done, it was like she had never picked at it at all. A brand new canvas for horrid self to ruin.
"Don't worry, love," Mum sighed, pulling Mara into a hug. She rubbed Mara's shoulder back and forth with her thumb. "They love each other. It'll work itself out."
Mara only nodded, hoping that her words were true.
Moonlight glimmered through the open curtains of the second-floor bedroom.
'There's no greater bond than family, that was what he thought.'
Harry had reread the sentence in his book nine times. He laid in bed in the darkness of the night, only a single light left as he read and reread the same sentence. It wasn't that the sentence was so thought provoking that he had to read it multiple times.
No, it was his drifting thoughts that kept him on the same paragraph. Every time he read it, the words didn't seem register and he had to read it again to try to remember where he was in the book.
Harry sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back into his bed. Books weren't a welcome distraction at the moment, much to his dismay.
After what seemed like hours of pondering his life choices, Harry marked his place in the book and shut it closed. The book and his glasses were soon lying on the nightstand and the lamp he had been using shut off.
He laid down in the bed, staring at the empty ceiling as he willed his eyes to close, for sleep to come for him but he remained awake.
He counted sheep, recited math equations and even sang his mother's lullaby for him in his head but none of it was enough.
In the darkness, it was hard to forget how solitary it was. He grumbled to himself, rolling over to his side.
Slowly, softly, he heard the soft pitter of footsteps outside his door. Harry stayed still, already knowing who it was as he didn't stop the relief from relaxing his tense muscles.
The door creaked open, socked feet pattering into the room nervously. It shut quietly once more and Harry could practically see the figure standing next to his bed, twindling their fingers together in nervousness.
"Harry?" Mara whispered. Having done this hundreds of times, Harry knew what he would see behind him. Mara, dressed in her favorite parajams, Wolfie, her stuffed animal clutched in her arms as she waited for his permission.
He scooted more to the edge of the bed, closer to the wall that he could feel the slight chill fro the cold of the night.
Mara wasted no time, fabric rustling as she climbed in beside him.
It was comforting to feel the her heat on his back as she got comfortable. There was enough space that neither one was touching but close enough that Harry knew she was there.
There was a moment of silence, where Harry's eyes slid shut, beginning to relax now.
"Do you remember when Dad first taught us to fly?"
Her innocent question slipped out and despite knowing she had an ulterior motive, he didn't stop himself from imagining the day she spoke of.
They were six. Mum had finally let Dad teach them to fly on their own. They'd gone up with him countless times but it was whole other thing to fly by themselves. Harry had been excited as Dad had taken them to the mini quidditch pitch in their backyard, two brooms held in his hand.
Harry's lips quirked up at the memory.
"You were terrified," He chuckled.
He could practically feel her smiling.
"I was. I was terrified I was going to fall off. Dad promised to ride with me at first until I felt comfortable. I was scared. But you…" She trailed off.
Harry remembered, of course.
"You were a natural. You got on the broom and just took off. You weren't scared in the slightest."
It'd been like releasing a fish into water. As soon as he had took off, he'd felt nothing but elation at the sensation. Air rushing past his hair and ears, the nothingness below him, only him and the air.
In his mind, he could still hear his Dad and Uncles cheers as they watched him. Dad glowing with pride as he recounted Harry's escapade to anyone who would listen. He count recount their massive smiles, Neville and Mara's awestruck faces as he did loops around the gardens.
His Mum's ire when he later crashed into the tulips, having lost his grip. Not even his broken arm could've stopped him from chasing the high that flying gave him. He'd been back on the broom only hours later.
Harry's heart clenched at the memories. Once the door had opened, a flood had poured through as he recalled the memories he usually kept locked away.
How his Dad would transform into Prongs when they were toddlers, letting the twins ride him around the house like a horse. Every Quidditch world cup they'd attended, when his Dad had lifted them onto his shoulders, balancing them both so they could see over the roaring crowds.
"I know it's hard for you," Mara whispered to him, "I remember you and Neville had to sit away from me at our birthday party because the press wanted pictures of the Girl-Who-Lived with her cake."
Her voice was bitter as she recalled the memory.
"You're my best friend, Harry, not just my twin," Mara said honestly. "I'd skip a thousand parties for you."
Harry couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. It was times like these that his sister really reminded him just how much she was like their parents. Yet, she was also the most vulnerable. It was his job, as her big brother to protect her.
No matter what happened or who he had to go up against.
"You're my best friend, too," Harry whispered. "I'll always be there to protect you."
A soft snore answered him.
Harry hid his grin into his pillow, the ache in his chest finally dissipating as he drifted off to sleep.
Somewhere, in the back of his head, he thought he heard someone calling his name.