Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or anything else belonging to JK
Rowling. Everything but the plot belongs to her and her publishers alone. I
am not earning any type of profit on this. No copyright infringement is
intended.
---
Silver Buckles
---
It's a beautiful, warm sunny day. The grass has never been greener; the sky never clearer. It's spring on the verge of summer, and everything seems perfect. The flowers are in bloom, and the leaves have finally grown back.
She's walking hand in hand with both of her parents, one on each side. They've just bought a balloon; Daddy has tied it to her tiny wrist, carefully. An ice cream is bought as well, and Mummy is ready with a napkin, should it slop down her dress. An hour or two is spent in the park, on that green grass, with a yellow blanket and a basket full of sweets. She begins to get sleepy, but knows that if she shuts her eyes, she'll miss everything.
She won't see the old man talk to his granddaughter on the bench, and she won't hear the girl giggle when she hugs him. She won't notice the woman with her hair tied in a bun, looking uptight and talking to that funny thing in her hand by her ear as she rushes past. She won't see the little boy with his mother walk up to the ice cream man, and she won't witness that little baby's first steps before she falls into her father's arms.
So she decides to stay awake.
Eventually, her parents want to take her out. They want to take her shopping and out to dinner, so she can witness what London is really like, and how Muggles live. (They couldn't ever raise her to be prejudiced.) So they go inside each and every little shop, and she tries on every dress and hugs every teddy bear. They eat in a fancy restaurant, while she drinks a Shirley Temple with a straw and a tiny pink umbrella, and her parents sip wine, and they have lobster and funny little lopsided breads and she listens to every conversation around their table.
She soon falls asleep, and her father carries her into bed. Her parents tuck her in, and she sees them blow her kisses and shut the door before closing her eyes once again.
---
Her vision blurs, and everything is unclear for a moment. She's floating in thin air, and she can't feel anything... until the door opens. The curtains are drawn, and a bright light heats up her face. It's sunny outside, even in December.
... December. It's spring, isn't it?
What? You know very well it isn't. You should; you spent all of yesterday afternoon rolling around in the snow when you were supposed to be locked up in here.
She laughs. The ladies who come in in the mornings are always funny. Especially when they hear her laugh at them and frown.
She finally opens her eyes. Four white walls, a window with drawn curtains, and a bed. She'd try to get up, but she knows she can't. Some mornings she forgets, and even calls for her mother, and they scold her. She'll disturb half the ward, if she keeps on as if she were a banshee.
---
But honestly, she thinks her bindings are pretty. A nice brown-beige strap, with silver-rimmed holes and buckles. And she even likes the white. In fact, she thinks it's her favourite colour. But the room with no windows is her definite favourite. The walls and the floors are soft, and she giggles when they carry her in as they do.
---
She smiles, and sighs. Home.
---
Silver Buckles
---
It's a beautiful, warm sunny day. The grass has never been greener; the sky never clearer. It's spring on the verge of summer, and everything seems perfect. The flowers are in bloom, and the leaves have finally grown back.
She's walking hand in hand with both of her parents, one on each side. They've just bought a balloon; Daddy has tied it to her tiny wrist, carefully. An ice cream is bought as well, and Mummy is ready with a napkin, should it slop down her dress. An hour or two is spent in the park, on that green grass, with a yellow blanket and a basket full of sweets. She begins to get sleepy, but knows that if she shuts her eyes, she'll miss everything.
She won't see the old man talk to his granddaughter on the bench, and she won't hear the girl giggle when she hugs him. She won't notice the woman with her hair tied in a bun, looking uptight and talking to that funny thing in her hand by her ear as she rushes past. She won't see the little boy with his mother walk up to the ice cream man, and she won't witness that little baby's first steps before she falls into her father's arms.
So she decides to stay awake.
Eventually, her parents want to take her out. They want to take her shopping and out to dinner, so she can witness what London is really like, and how Muggles live. (They couldn't ever raise her to be prejudiced.) So they go inside each and every little shop, and she tries on every dress and hugs every teddy bear. They eat in a fancy restaurant, while she drinks a Shirley Temple with a straw and a tiny pink umbrella, and her parents sip wine, and they have lobster and funny little lopsided breads and she listens to every conversation around their table.
She soon falls asleep, and her father carries her into bed. Her parents tuck her in, and she sees them blow her kisses and shut the door before closing her eyes once again.
---
Her vision blurs, and everything is unclear for a moment. She's floating in thin air, and she can't feel anything... until the door opens. The curtains are drawn, and a bright light heats up her face. It's sunny outside, even in December.
... December. It's spring, isn't it?
What? You know very well it isn't. You should; you spent all of yesterday afternoon rolling around in the snow when you were supposed to be locked up in here.
She laughs. The ladies who come in in the mornings are always funny. Especially when they hear her laugh at them and frown.
She finally opens her eyes. Four white walls, a window with drawn curtains, and a bed. She'd try to get up, but she knows she can't. Some mornings she forgets, and even calls for her mother, and they scold her. She'll disturb half the ward, if she keeps on as if she were a banshee.
---
But honestly, she thinks her bindings are pretty. A nice brown-beige strap, with silver-rimmed holes and buckles. And she even likes the white. In fact, she thinks it's her favourite colour. But the room with no windows is her definite favourite. The walls and the floors are soft, and she giggles when they carry her in as they do.
---
She smiles, and sighs. Home.