AN: Hello my fantastic humans! Welcome to Fir and Vinewood. It's been an idea that was floating around for a while now and I just recently started fleshing it all out. It is in its absolute baby stages so unfortunately it's not a finished work and, due to work and other muggle-life things, updates might be inconsistent. Anybody interested in being a lovely Beta for me and working on my abhorrent grammatical skills, send me a message.
Of course, the standard fanfiction creeds apply:
Harry Potter does not belong to me, but Bellamy Potter is mine and mine alone. Also, please leave a review because they are like water in a desert. ;)
After 3 miscarriages, Dorea Potter was anxiously awaiting her final healer appointment. Her due date was rapidly approaching and the healers were already discussing delivering early to prevent another complication. She had already been forced to take it easy, a feat not easily accomplished, but she could not stand laying in her bed feeling filthy any longer. The cleansing charms and changing clothes could only do so much.
Standing alone in her room, she walked to the large window and pulled back the crimson curtains. The window looked over the yard to the side of the house where a small creek wound across the property. Her mind wandered, picturing her husband out in the yard chasing a little boy on a toy broomstick. The faint sound of giggling and a small scream of delight and his father caught him and spun around, lifting him in the air. But there, at Charlus' leg, was another child. A small black head of hair fixed into a plait with a purple ribbon at the bottom and little hands grasping at his belt.
"Mistress should not be out of bed." The stern voice shook Dorea out of her daydream. She turned to see the short frame of Poppy, her house-elf, standing at the foot of the bed, hands on her hips and a pout on her lips.
"Poppy, you know I can't be confined to that bed forever."
"Yes yes, Mistress is headstrong, Mistress does what she wants, but Mistress must take care of Poppy's new master. Poppy demands it." She emphasized her point by stomping her foot indignantly.
Dorea gave in to the elf, but only slightly.
"Fine Poppy, but I must take a bath. These cleaning charms make me feel stale."
"Poppy will help Mistress. Mistress must not strain herself."
Helping her into the bath, Poppy set about washing her Mistress' hair.
Feeling much better, and finally truly clean, Dorea sat up and, with Poppy's help, exited the tub. Sitting in an armchair, she picked up her most recent book. It was a book she had found tucked into the bag with the books her husband had ordered from Flourish and Blotts on the volatility and viscosity of different potions ingredients. The book didn't seem to be written by a wizard, but this Shakespeare bloke seemed to be fairly competent and she found herself quite enjoying the compendium of plays.
Poppy started brushing through Dorea's hair as she picked up where she had left off in the middle of The Winter's Tale.
"Poppy is finished with Mistress Dorea's hair. She is going back to bed now, yes?" The small elf glared pointedly at the woman, not leaving much of an option.
"Yes Poppy." Dorea sighed. "Now help me up."
Poppy reached up and grasped Dorea's hand, pulling her into a standing position. Standing now, Dorea glanced at the window over the tub, hoping to get another glance of the little girl she saw earlier.
Poppy shuddered, and jumped up on the counter to look out the window also.
"What is Mistress looking at?"
"I thought I saw something earlier, Poppy; nothing to worry about." Poppy looked at her skeptically.
"Mistress is lying to Poppy." She pouted and turned up her nose. "But Poppy allows it just this once, for Mistress is carrying Poppy's new…" She trailed off and stared at Dorea's heavily pregnant stomach, tilting her head off to the side.
"Poppy, are you…" suddenly, a flash of pain shot through her stomach, bringing Dorea to her knees. With tears in her eyes, she looked up at her elf. "Poppy, get Charlus."
"Yes, Poppy will get the Master Potter. Must help new master and mistress. Must keep them safe." She vanished with a crack, returning moments later to find Dorea back in the chair, now dressed and having summoned a bag with several changes of clothes.
Poppy hurried them into the floo, demanding they return safely.
Seated next to her in the waiting room, Charlus was anxiously fidgeting with the wedding ring on his wife's left hand, but that was the only outward showing of emotion. Dorea had schooled her features into a vague expression of indifference, the war of emotions tearing through her body was not something to be shared with the public. Minutes passed as though the world was frozen, and Dorea was broken out of her stupor by a high, cold voice speaking her name.
"Aunt Dorea." She looked up and smiled thinly at her niece.
"Hello Walburga. How shocking we should be in our situation at the same time." Dorea spoke calmly, measuring out her words.
"Well yes. Of course, I am simply here visiting a dear friend. You remember Healer Bonavich, he's taking very good care of me at home. A shame you are not able to do the same." The veiled insult was not unexpected. Dorea was indeed older than one usually fell pregnant in pure blood circles, which was the reason the Potters were here in the first place. Tradition did not place pregnant pure bloods in the hospital, rather, they were cared for at home by personal healers employed by the family.
At that moment, a petite woman in sea green robes stepped into the waiting room.
"Potter?" Charlus helped Dorea to her feet, hyper aware of the large baby bump.
"I wish you well for your pregnancy, Walburga. The early months are the worst." Dorea said, holding her head high as she followed her husband through to the exam room.
The exam room was a brilliant white, with different depictions of infants at varying degrees of gestation. The petite healer introduced herself as Healer Dagworth-Granger, and began her exam.
"Several diagnostics spells, give me a mo'." Charlus was gripping his wife's hand tightly, his eyes locked on her face. Dorea was laying on the exam table with her eyes squeezed shut, praying to Merlin that she would not let her husband down again.
The healer frowned, and began to repeat her spells. Charlus felt the tears beginning to form, his throat tightening as he watched her finish her spells, and turn to consult Dorea's chart.
"So last time you were here, what did the healer tell you about the pregnancy?"
Charlus frowned, anger beginning to bubble in his chest.
"Surely everything is in the chart, why do we need to tell you?" He began to stand, but no sooner had he moved did his wife place a soft hand on his arm. She did not open her eyes as she answered the healer's question.
"It was a Thursday. We were told that I was about 20 weeks pregnant. They told me that it was healthy, that it looked absolutely perfect." Her voice hitched, "That he was absolutely perfect."
The healer frowned, looking back at the chart. Charlus couldn't take it anymore, he needed an answer.
"Tell me my son is okay." He growled, ignoring his wife's hand and standing, his right hand twitching to where his wand was holstered.
The healer jumped and dropped the chart, scattering papers across the floor. She righted herself and, with a flick of her wand, the papers reassembled themselves neatly on the counter.
"I apologize, I should've been more clear. Your pregnancy is perfectly healthy, right where they should be for 30 weeks."
Both Charlus and Dorea visibly relaxed, a small choking noise escaping Charlus' throat.
"Then what…" Charlus was cut off by Dorea's hand once more.
"They?"
"Mrs. Potter," the healer went to Dorea's side, taking the hand clenched in a fist gently. She waited a moment and Dorea opened her eyes, tears threatening to overflow any second. "Mrs. Potter, your baby boy is perfectly safe. Perfectly healthy," She paused, then continued, "and so is your baby girl."
Charlus froze. Dorea's eyes widened, not believing the healer. It was a dream.
"But, the last scan I had…"
"That's what confused me as well. According to your last healer appointment, you were only carrying a single child. Now it seems as though you have two, equally along babies. Both healthy as can be."
Dorea burst into tears, her regularly schooled emotions exploding out of her all at once. All she cared about was a healthy baby, but two. And a daughter. She had dreamed of having a daughter. A little bundle of joy she could dress up and do her hair. She had been almost certain she was to have a girl prior to her first healer appointment. Dreams and feelings in a magical pregnancy weren't without meaning, but now; now she had her baby girl.
She took several deep breaths to calm herself down and, once her emotions were fit back into their box, she looked at her husband, who was still frozen in shock.
"Dear, sit before your heart gives out." He complied shakily, reaching for his wife.
"Two? And they're healthy, they're okay?"
"They are perfectly healthy Mr. Potter. Now, are we still planning on an April 29th delivery?"
"Barring any complications, yes, April 29th." Dorea repeated, still in slight shock.
When they returned to Potter manor, Dorea called Poppy. With a crack, Poppy appeared before her mistress, a giant smile across her face and her bright green eyes staring up at Dorea with a twinkle.
"You sneaky Poppy, you knew! You knew this morning!"
"Of course Poppy knows, Poppy is knowing many things, yes. Poppy knows her new Master and Mistress will be oh so happy to has parents who are so wonderful."
Dorea smiled, and shook her head at the elf.
"Of course you knew."
The elf reached into the pocket of her red tunic and pulled out a brand new pink onesie.
"Poppy even made her new mistress Hermione clothes!"
At this Dorea stopped. They hadn't decided on a name, they just found out the girl existed, and yet Poppy was calling her by name.
"What did you call her?"
"Mistress Hermione. But, has Mistress decided upon a different name?" The elf's eyes shone brightly, her smirk daring Dorea to tell her she was wrong.
"I believe that was on our list of names before we found out it was a boy. But yes, Charlus was more in favor of Bellamy. Bellamy Dorea Potter. Where did…"
"Pay Poppy no mind. Mistress must return to bed."
With a sigh and an eye roll, Dorea decided she was much too tired to fight with the elf and proceeded up the stairs to lay down, followed by a bouncing Poppy.
Two weeks later, Poppy appeared at the side of the Potters' bed, a bag in one hand and a loose dress in the other.
"Mistress Dorea must wake up. Mistress Dorea, you must wake up."
Dorea opened her eyes slowly, then immediately sat bolt upright as a shooting pain exploded throughout her abdomen.
"Charlus, Charlus wake up."
He groaned and rolled over, away from his wife. She groaned again and swatted at her sleeping husband.
"Charlus Fleamont Potter, wake up."
He sat up quickly, nearly falling out of the bed in his haste. "Are they okay? Are you okay? Are we going?" He looked at his wife's pained grimace and he nodded jerkily, "Okay, we're going. I need to find the bag, I need… where is Poppy?" Poppy and Dorea watched as Charlus shoved his glasses on his face, rushing around the room gathering things together. He stopped suddenly, one shoe on, shirt on backwards, and one leg through his pants. Looking over to the bed, he saw Poppy helping his wife change into the loose gown she had brought, bag next to the bed.
"Right. Of course. We're fine, taking our bloody time." He muttered to himself and rushed into the bathroom to finish getting ready.
"Mistress married a crazy man." Poppy giggled, looking at the closed door of the bathroom.
"No Poppy, I married a Gryffindor."
"But this is what Poppy says." They shared a knowing look and by the time Charlus got out of the bathroom, Poppy had helped Dorea change and brought some tea and toast, stating that her mistress would not be starved to death by the evil people at St. Mungos.
10 minutes and 2 contractions later, the elf shoved Charlus through the floo, then carefully assisted Dorea through to the lobby of St. Mungos.
"I see we just couldn't wait, could we?" Healer Dagworth-Granger said as she entered the room.
"A whole month early is quite a lot, right? I mean, they'll be okay?" The two women looked at Charlus, one with an eyebrow raised and a smirk on her face, the other with a small, understanding smile.
"We will do our best, Mr. Potter. But based on the imaging we took upon your arrival, the twins are healthy. They just seem to be a little eager to greet the world."
March 27th at 11:05 pm, the mediwitch handed Charlus his son. He looked down at the shock of black hair and the open mouth of the screaming infant. 3 minutes later, he was handed his daughter, also with a vast amount of black hair, but she was not screaming or making a fuss. She just lay there, curled up in her pink blanket. The tiny girl rolled, and a small pink hand reached out of the blanket and touched her brother's arm. Immediately, the boy's screams turned into whimpering, and he slowly quieted.
"They're perfect Dorea." He whispered, carefully walking to the bed where his tired wife lay, not one hair out of place. Handing their children over to his wife, he couldn't take his eyes off of them. Finally looking up at his wife, he saw that she was smiling gently down at the twins.
"They're going to be a handful you know."
"Yes dear, but they're going to be our handful."
Three year later (Age 3)
Charlus gently closed the door of his son's bedroom and walked to the end of the corridor to his wife. They sat on a loveseat facing the twins' bedroom doors like they did so often and waited.
"So, do you think tonight will be any different?" He asked her and she laughed.
"Charlus, our children may be young, but I do believe they are predictable."
"Come on. I think it'll be Bellamy."
"You're a fool, Gryffindor."
"Make it interesting?"
"I could use some new robes."
"Well then we'll make it ten."
"Plus an additional ten if it's within the next five minutes."
"Dorea, have you no faith in our children?"
"No dear, I just know them better." He rolled his eyes.
The two sat in a comfortable silence, Charlus fiddling with the ring on Dorea's left hand. It didn't take long for James' door to open. His mess of black hair popped out, looking both ways down the hall before tip-toeing across the hallway, stuffed owl clutched to his chest. He opened his sister's door with the same amount of caution, closing it gently behind him.
Charlus muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'sneaky snake', before reaching into his robes and pulling out a handful of gold coins.
His wife counted the coins in her hand.
"Plus ten for your son's timely appearance, dear." He growled lightly, producing the extra galleons and depositing them in his wife's outstretched hand.
The pair made their way to their room, Charlus grumbling about his wife's obscene ability to predict their children's behavior and Dorea smirking at him.
One year later (Age 4)
The little girl sat in the library with her mother, both with books on their laps. Dorea wasn't reading so much as watching her daughter explore the picture book. The girl's legs were kicking back and forth as she watched the pictures dance and play out the story. Dorea smiled to herself as she watched her daughter's curious eyes widen when she turned the page and there was a cauldron bouncing around the page.
"Cauldrons don't do that mummy. They can't bounce." The little girl pouted up at her mother.
"Of course they don't, my dear. That is only a story."
"But…"
"You are thinking far too rationally for such a fantastical book, dear."
"Why would they even put it in then?"
Dorea sighed, smiling down at her precocious daughter.
"Isn't that one of your brother's favorite books?" She moved the cover slightly to examine the title. "The Cauldron on the Run."
"Well Jamie likes it." Her daughter frowned at the bouncing cauldron smiling up from the page.
"Yes, but whyever would that mean you need to like it? You may be twins, but you are very different from your brother." Dorea smirked to herself. "I like to think I've had some influence on you."
"So I don't have to read this?"
"Absolutely not. In fact I think our story time is over. I'm sure James and your father miss their princess."
The little girl pouted harder. "But I'm not a princess." She straightened out and lifted her nose, "I'm a lady." This made Dorea chuckle, and she bent down next to her daughter, pulling a curl that had escaped the plait Poppy had made that morning. "Yes of course. But Daddy and James don't understand that. Remember dear, they're Gryffindors. To them, every girl is a princess they need to rescue."
"But what if I want to rescue them?" Bellamy asked, her great big, hazel eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Well then I guess we shall have to go rescue them, shouldn't we?" Dorea took her daughter's book and placed it on the side table with her own novel, taking Bellamy's hand and walking together down to the kitchen.
One year later (Age 5)
"Mimi! Mimi! Come look what I made!" A little boy with a mop of black hair on his head came running up to the pair. Bellamy giggled at the sight of her brother's clothing.
"Jamie, you're all messy. What is that?" She pointed at the globs of everlasting glue and spell-o-tape holding glitter and sticks to his shirt. James looked down and when he looked back up there was a proud smile on his face, "That is the product of hard work and enginity!" A deep chuckle came from the dining room as the twins' father walked through the archway.
"Hard work and ingenuity, my boy. But you almost had it." Charlus reached down and hoisted the boy into the air and up onto his shoulders. James started waving a small stick around his head.
"Look Mimi! We made a broom! Daddy says we could get a real one for our birthday!"
"Oh, did he?" Dorea smirked, one eyebrow raised at her husband.
"The kids are turning 5, Dorea. I think it's time for them to graduate to a broom that actually raises more than a foot off the ground."
"Fly, daddy, fly!" James squealed from his father's shoulders. Charlus shrugged and smiled at his wife before jogging off down the hall, making swishing noises as he weaved around the furniture and off into the sitting room. Hermione giggled and slid her hand out of her mother's grasp, chasing her father and brother down the hall.
"Me next Daddy! Me next!"
Poppy cracked into being next to Dorea, brushing stray glitter off her yellow tunic. She looked up to her Mistress and smiled. "Poppy knows things, Miss." Dorea looked down at the small elf. "And one of the things she be knowing is that Miss Bellamy is to do great things." Dorea smiled slightly at the elf, then looked back at the archway where her daughter had disappeared. "Yes Poppy, that's what I'm scared of."
One year later (Age 6)
"Harry! Come on, we have to solve this puzzle!" Bellamy called to her brother. James ran up to his sister with his broom in his hand. "You need to catch the magic key attached to this quaffle. Otherwise we can't open the door!"
James saluted his sister and mounted his toy broom quickly. Their father had modified the quaffle to move lazily around the orchard, providing James with a small challenge to catch the red ball. Bellamy cheered from the side as her brother got closer and closer to the ball. A loud whistle came from the edge of the clearing and the twins turned to see Poppy standing there, a whistle pinched between her fingers.
"Master and Miss are to come inside, dinner is ready."
One year later (Age 7)
The Potters were gathered around the dining room table for the twins' birthday dinner. The twins had asked for the, now traditional, Poppy's Every Flavor Pancakes for dinner. These were, of course, not truly every flavor like their candy equivalent, but included chocolate, strawberry, blueberry, maple-walnut, and caramel (among several others). The twins sat on their bench seat, giggling to one another as they ate their syrup drenched pancakes.
Poppy appeared after the pancakes were gone and cleared the table, banishing any trace of syrup from the table top, and handing warm, wet washcloths to the twins. They cleaned up their faces and fingers and took off sprinting to the sitting room, followed by their parents. On the coffee table sat a large pile of red and gold wrapped presents. Poppy appeared and perched herself on a side table to watch the twins open their presents.
The twins tore through their presents, revealing lots of new clothing, including several formal outfits. James got a set of gobstones and a small quaffle charmed to hover in place, while Bellamy got a marble wizard's chess set and a beautifully illustrated children's copy of Hogwarts: A History. The twins squealed over their presents, until their father stood and knelt down in front of them.
"Now, each of you get two more presents, one from each of us. I believe I promised you this a while ago." He pulled two small, wrapped sticks from his pocket and tapped them with his wand. James' eyes grew comically wide as his father placed what was obviously a broom on his lap, handing the other to Bellamy. "You have to promise to be careful." He snuck a glance at his wife and then, in a dramatic stage whisper added, "at least until you've got the hang of it." He threw them both a wink and ruffled their black curls.
"And now for me." Their mother pulled two, rectangular packages from behind the sofa. It took a moment to pull James' attention away from his new broom, "I have a journal for each of you. This journal will never run out of room, and only you can open it." Bellamy's eyes got impossibly wide and her jaw dropped as she took the purple leather-bound journal from her mother, running her fingers over the black clasp in the front.
James took his navy one from his mother and flipped through the journal. He noted the journal was divided into two sections.
"That section is connected between the two journals. Writing in one journal will cause it to appear in the other."
"Wicked…" James whispered.
Bellamy flipped her journal over and noted the golden script along the bottom of the back cover.
'Novissima autem inimica destuetur mors'.
"What's this, mum?" James asked. Their mother smiled a particularly Slytherin smile.
"If you would do your latin, maybe you wouldn't need to ask, darling." He made a face, then turned his attention back to his new broomstick. Bellamy spent a little more time looking at her new journal, running her fingers over the clean paper.
The family was interrupted when a small, bluish wisp flew through the window, forming a cardinal on the arm of Charlus' red chair.
"There's been another incident in muggle London, Charlus. Alastor is already there." The female voice coming from the bird sounded exasperated. The twins looked up to their father, who gave an apologetic smile.
"Yes, well it seems as though the wizarding world is yet again, lost without me." He stood up and stretched. "Hopefully I'll be back in time for bed, if not I'll send you an owl." He kissed his wife before ruffling the twins' hair. "Be good for your mother. I'm sure I'll get a full report when I get back." He winked before making his way to the front hall where Poppy was standing with his briefcase and overcoat.
"Alright loves, why don't you take your new brooms for a spin; Poppy will come supervise." She narrowed her eyes. "It's just for a small bit, you will not go above the tree-line and if I hear otherwise from Poppy, you'll quickly be reminded of what it is like to go without a broom."
The small elf appeared behind the twins. "Alright, out! Master and Mistress must show Poppy their new toys." She pushed the twins out the back door and bounced behind them.
Dorea watched as the twins ran through the grass. What she wouldn't give to keep them this age forever; to preserve the innocence and carefree attitude of childhood. This was the third time this month that her husband had been called in to work for an incident.
She shook her head and began gathering up the twins' discarded presents. After cleaning up all of the paper, their youngest elf, Missy, popped into the living room.
"Mistress should be leaving messes for Missy. Missy will clean the messes, and Mistress will enjoy her children." Dorea smiled at the small elf.
"Missy, I was actually wondering if you would sit and talk with me for a moment." The elf's eyes blew wide and she blinked rapidly. "You've done nothing wrong, Missy. I simply would like to talk." The elf nodded and she hopped onto an ottoman, sitting with her legs crossed.
"As you are aware, the children and I have been primarily tended to by Poppy. Poppy is the elf that I was given when I was married and she will remain with me. The twins, however, are old enough now to require their own assistance." Missy sat in silence. "Now I know you've helped out with the twins when Poppy was otherwise occupied, and I've decided that I'd very much like it if you were to shift from general duties to specifically caring for the twins."
The elf blinked, eyes shining with unshed tears. Dorea smiled, and placed a hand on the elf's shoulder.
"You've served this family very well, Missy; and I do not doubt that you will excel in your new role. I would not have chosen you if I did not believe you were the best fit for my children."
"Mistress is very kind to Missy. Missy is very proud to serve the Potters and would consider it the greatest honor to mind the young miss and master. Missy will make Mistress proud."
"Oh I do not doubt this. I've already informed Poppy, or rather Poppy was already aware, of the change and I do believe the bonds should adjust at midnight tonight. I do appreciate your enthusiasm Missy and I apologize for taking you away from your duties."
"It is being no problem, Mistress Dorea. Missy will finish the cleaning up and perhaps tackle the jungles before the young master and miss returns." The elf gave a cheeky wink and cracked off. Dorea chuckled at the name the elves had given her childrens' rooms. They were indeed more of a jungle than a bedroom in some ways. While Bellamy's room was generally more neat than her brother's due to sudden bouts of cleanliness, they were both in constant need of a good tidying up. Dorea had managed to coral the elves into only doing light work in the rooms in order to prevent her children from turning out completely rotten, but every once in a while an elf managed to sneak into the room and do some organizing. The perfect little handfuls indeed.
Two years later (Age 9)
"Come ooon Mimi. The snow looks so nice out there! I bet it's perfect for making snowballs. You've been writing for ages, what is there even to write about?" The lanky boy flopped onto his sister's bed, watching her scratch away into her purple journal.
"If you must know, Mum thinks that writing down those funny dreams I've been having might help me make better sense of them."
"Wouldn't that just make them worse? I mean, dredging up all those memories can't really help, can it?" Bellamy giggled.
"I dunno Jamie. But at least this one was sort of funny. I mean really, how plausible is being trapped underwater only to be rescued by a half-man, half-shark. Plus, I'm pretty sure you were there in that one, so I was fine."
"Woah, half-man half-shark? That's awesome." He flipped over onto his back, throwing his winter hat up and catching it. "Though, sharks can't breathe air, can they? So that might get pretty awkward at your wedding." Bellamy's jaw dropped and she threw a pillow at her brother. "Oi! I'm just trying to be supportive. I'd still be up there, you know? Even if you got married to a half-man half-shark."
"You're absolutely mental, Jamie." She closed her notebook and stored it in her nightstand. "And mental people lose at snowball fights. Last one to the orchard is a pile of hippogriff dung!" She jumped up and sprinted down the hall, using the banister as a slide.
The pair blew past their mother, barely avoiding a collision as they raced to the back door.
"Inside well before dinner so you aren't dripping all over my dining room, please!" She called after them.
"Yes mum!" They replied in tandem, rushing to pull on their hats and gloves before rushing out to the orchard behind their house.
Bellamy began building a circular fort at her end of the battle field, crafting snowballs as she went. With a bit of focus, she was able to make the snowballs by hand while willing the snow to form a solid wall surrounding her.
Glancing over her slowly forming wall, she saw her brother's fort begin taking shape, though if she was being honest, it looked more like one of her father's training drills for the aurors than a snow fort. Small half walls were strategically placed at varying lengths and heights. Occasionally, his navy hat popped into view behind one of them, but it was never for more than a few seconds.
Bellamy glanced around her small circle of defense, analyzing any weak points and adjusting the snow as needed. Once she deemed the walls to be satisfactory, she set about organizing her snowballs at various points in the circle, as well as a few piles behind it.
"Jamie, you better be ready…" She called, crouching behind the wall and peering through a small, barely visible hole.
Her brother didn't respond.
"Very clever, Jamie. Don't answer so I can't figure out where you are." She smirked, recognizing the strategy from one of the training sessions their father had held for the aurors in their backyard.
Bellamy crawled over to the left side and peered through her other small vantage point. From this different angle, she was able to see the smallest bit of fluff from the pom-pom on James' hat. She used this new information to lob her first snowball.
"Bloody hell! Oh it is on, little sister!" He began flinging snowball after snowball towards her fort. For a moment there was no method to his madness until she caught a snowball in the face and shrieked. His shots became tailored to her location and she dodged out of the way, slinging her own snowballs back at him.
"I'm only your little sister by three minutes! I must have been stuck behind your obnoxiously large head!" She grabbed three snowballs and lobbed them at James using both of her hands. The snowballs never actually hit him, but upon impact with the fort they exploded into a fine mist of snow. He took a minute to clear his glasses and in that moment, Bellamy rushed his fort.
Letting out a loud battle cry, she jumped over one of the battlements James had constructed and tackled him into the snow.
"Eat snow!" She cried and scooped up a handful of nearby powder and smashed it into his face. He shook his head and overtook her, smashing his own handful of snow into her face. Her glasses pressed into her cheekbones and she tried to wiggle out from under him.
"Surrender! Surrender to the snow wizard!" James cried, reaching for another handful of snow.
While he was off balance, she pushed him off of her and sprinted towards the house, cackling the entire way. She could hear her brother behind her, the crunching of the snow getting closer and closer as the space between them shrunk.
"I win!" She cried as she touched the sliding glass door with her soaking wet glove.
"We weren't racing, Mimi. I was chasing you." James pouted.
"Well you obviously didn't catch me in time, because I got to the house first." She stuck her tongue out at him.
The door opened behind her and Bellamy jumped, turning to find Poppy standing there in a deep crimson apron and a wooden spatula.
The twins shrunk slightly under her stern gaze. With a snap of her fingers, the twins' clothing was dry.
"Hats, gloves and boots into the bin." She pointed at a wooden bin just inside the door. The twins followed the order quickly.
"Come on Pops! Didn't you see, I won!" James said, smirking at his sister who rolled her eyes.
"Poppy be seeing none of this. Poppy be busy making dinner. Dinner that Master and Mistress are already sitting at, waiting for young master and miss." The twins smiled at the small elf.
"We love you Poppy!" Bellamy said, giving the elf a tight squeeze.
"Poppy be knowing this. How could one not love Poppy." She smacked the girl lightly on the head with the spatula. "To the table." She smacked James on the leg as he passed, shaking her head at the giggling children.
Two perfect handfuls indeed.