Prologue
Have you ever gotten that feeling? You know... that feeling that warms your whole body like a mug of hot cocoa and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on the coldest day of winter? That feeling you get when you see the dusty brown Labrador puppy sitting under the Christmas tree with a green and red bow tied around its neck? That feeling when you believe that nothing can go wrong and everything in the world is perfect, even for that single moment in time? If so, then you know how I felt the day before my mother died.
My name is Mara Cerise Deltin. An odd name, not many people have it. My mom said that was what made me so special. I was five then, just turned five that is. It was one of the warmest days we had had since September. It was November now and warm days did not come often enough. The sun was shinning brightly in the sky and the blistering wind had taken a rest, leaving the autumn leaves to crumble beneath the weight of a thousand busy people. Children my age and older were playing merrily outside, savoring the last days before the snow came. I was one of them, save the playing part of course. I was walking down a busy London street, hand in hand with the most wonderful person to ever step foot in my world. My mom.
My mother had a way about her. From her long, wavy, perfectly shaped light brown hair to her green eyes. She had a warm and happy soul and was always willing to give advice, or take it in. She had graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry top in her class and Head Girl. Soon after she left school she became an Auror. A highly respected job in the wizarding community, might I add. She was looked up to and admired by many wizards and witches in the Ministry of Magic and articles about her amazing feats were featured in The Daily Prophet; she used to help me keep a scrapbook of them all. After a few years of being an Auror she got engaged to my father, her husband, Xenth. He had also graduated from Hogwarts top in the class and Head Boy. He was much more stern than mother but he loved me all the same. I never quite knew what his job was, but it kept him very busy during the day and drained him of all energy. I hardly ever saw him. While, mother had a busy life at the Ministry and father, she always found time for me. The one thing I loved about the time we spent together were the stories she told. She told me fairy tales, or read out of fiction novels. She always said the more I read the sharper my mind would become. She was right too.
As we walked, she was telling me a story. One she was making up off the top of her head of course, but I still absorbed it all as though if I did not, my life would be utterly incomplete. At the moment, her story was focused on a discarded piece of paper that was lying wet and falling apart in the gutter. To my mother however, that piece of paper had had an excellent life before it was savagely thrown in the gutter. Yes, even that piece of paper had a life of its own. That was something amazing about my mother. Her ability to see everything as a living, thinking creature, I suppose it made everyday a little bit more interesting.
Suddenly, I was being brought into a wonderful smelling building, a bakery. My mother said that she had to but some bread and that she would get me a special treat if I waited patiently and the play table in the corner. I was more than willing to go see what type of toys they had, and that I did. They had a plethora of blocks, crayons and paper. I remember it all well. As I was going about my business, coloring and stacking, folding and accidentally breaking I heard a high pitched screeching coming from across the bakery. I remember being terribly frightened, thinking someone was being hurt. Looking wildly around I then saw an odd, but slightly calming scene. My mother and another woman were embracing and chattering wildly as though they had not seen each other in years. Which was probably so.
The lady looked awfully familiar. As though I had seen her before, in a picture maybe? Yes, a picture that was it. She was in my mother's scrapbook. The last page. There was a picture of mother and her with there arms around each others shoulders and the words Friends For Life written in loopy words under it. So they were best friends. Makes sense, from the way they were acting. I then saw my mother bend down and fidget with something about her waist high. I was pondering weather or not to go over and see what it was when the 'it' emerged from the crowd of adults. It was a boy, a very good looking boy, as I can recall now. He had black hair and beautiful brown eyes. He was beautiful, recollecting that moment I can say that.
The boy came up and kneeled beside me, trying to flatten down the hair that my mother had obviously ruffled. Eventually, after a lot of flattening, and a lot of staring on my behalf he sighed with relief. He turned to me and I smiled. He smiled back. He then stuck out his hand in a very polite way and cleared his throat.
"Hello. My name is Black... Sirius Black."
He stated, trying to make himself sound manly. It was a very cute gesture and I took his hand shyly. He shook sort of forcefully for a little boy and went to playing. We spent the next ten minuets in silence, playing side by side as though we were the best of friends. Finally, both out mothers came back from the front of the store. They said extremely long good-byes, promising to owl each other and get together soon. Eventually I felt my mothers hand grasp mine and lead me out of the store. Sirius' mother did the same and she began leading him off in the opposite direction of me. He spun around quickly and called out, a little more childish than before.
"BYE! MAYBE I WILL SEE YOU SOMETIME!"
I blushed, hearing my mother and Sirius' mother giggle at this. He beamed at me before turning back and disappearing down a side street. I felt my mothers grip tighten slightly and she smiled. I smiled. That moment will forever be burned into my memory. Her smile, that perfect display of tender loving care. One of the last smiles I ever got.
I suppose that's how it works though. Lose one friend, and gain another. Unfair... but as my father would say later on 'Who ever said life was fair?"
Have you ever gotten that feeling? You know... that feeling that warms your whole body like a mug of hot cocoa and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on the coldest day of winter? That feeling you get when you see the dusty brown Labrador puppy sitting under the Christmas tree with a green and red bow tied around its neck? That feeling when you believe that nothing can go wrong and everything in the world is perfect, even for that single moment in time? If so, then you know how I felt the day before my mother died.
My name is Mara Cerise Deltin. An odd name, not many people have it. My mom said that was what made me so special. I was five then, just turned five that is. It was one of the warmest days we had had since September. It was November now and warm days did not come often enough. The sun was shinning brightly in the sky and the blistering wind had taken a rest, leaving the autumn leaves to crumble beneath the weight of a thousand busy people. Children my age and older were playing merrily outside, savoring the last days before the snow came. I was one of them, save the playing part of course. I was walking down a busy London street, hand in hand with the most wonderful person to ever step foot in my world. My mom.
My mother had a way about her. From her long, wavy, perfectly shaped light brown hair to her green eyes. She had a warm and happy soul and was always willing to give advice, or take it in. She had graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry top in her class and Head Girl. Soon after she left school she became an Auror. A highly respected job in the wizarding community, might I add. She was looked up to and admired by many wizards and witches in the Ministry of Magic and articles about her amazing feats were featured in The Daily Prophet; she used to help me keep a scrapbook of them all. After a few years of being an Auror she got engaged to my father, her husband, Xenth. He had also graduated from Hogwarts top in the class and Head Boy. He was much more stern than mother but he loved me all the same. I never quite knew what his job was, but it kept him very busy during the day and drained him of all energy. I hardly ever saw him. While, mother had a busy life at the Ministry and father, she always found time for me. The one thing I loved about the time we spent together were the stories she told. She told me fairy tales, or read out of fiction novels. She always said the more I read the sharper my mind would become. She was right too.
As we walked, she was telling me a story. One she was making up off the top of her head of course, but I still absorbed it all as though if I did not, my life would be utterly incomplete. At the moment, her story was focused on a discarded piece of paper that was lying wet and falling apart in the gutter. To my mother however, that piece of paper had had an excellent life before it was savagely thrown in the gutter. Yes, even that piece of paper had a life of its own. That was something amazing about my mother. Her ability to see everything as a living, thinking creature, I suppose it made everyday a little bit more interesting.
Suddenly, I was being brought into a wonderful smelling building, a bakery. My mother said that she had to but some bread and that she would get me a special treat if I waited patiently and the play table in the corner. I was more than willing to go see what type of toys they had, and that I did. They had a plethora of blocks, crayons and paper. I remember it all well. As I was going about my business, coloring and stacking, folding and accidentally breaking I heard a high pitched screeching coming from across the bakery. I remember being terribly frightened, thinking someone was being hurt. Looking wildly around I then saw an odd, but slightly calming scene. My mother and another woman were embracing and chattering wildly as though they had not seen each other in years. Which was probably so.
The lady looked awfully familiar. As though I had seen her before, in a picture maybe? Yes, a picture that was it. She was in my mother's scrapbook. The last page. There was a picture of mother and her with there arms around each others shoulders and the words Friends For Life written in loopy words under it. So they were best friends. Makes sense, from the way they were acting. I then saw my mother bend down and fidget with something about her waist high. I was pondering weather or not to go over and see what it was when the 'it' emerged from the crowd of adults. It was a boy, a very good looking boy, as I can recall now. He had black hair and beautiful brown eyes. He was beautiful, recollecting that moment I can say that.
The boy came up and kneeled beside me, trying to flatten down the hair that my mother had obviously ruffled. Eventually, after a lot of flattening, and a lot of staring on my behalf he sighed with relief. He turned to me and I smiled. He smiled back. He then stuck out his hand in a very polite way and cleared his throat.
"Hello. My name is Black... Sirius Black."
He stated, trying to make himself sound manly. It was a very cute gesture and I took his hand shyly. He shook sort of forcefully for a little boy and went to playing. We spent the next ten minuets in silence, playing side by side as though we were the best of friends. Finally, both out mothers came back from the front of the store. They said extremely long good-byes, promising to owl each other and get together soon. Eventually I felt my mothers hand grasp mine and lead me out of the store. Sirius' mother did the same and she began leading him off in the opposite direction of me. He spun around quickly and called out, a little more childish than before.
"BYE! MAYBE I WILL SEE YOU SOMETIME!"
I blushed, hearing my mother and Sirius' mother giggle at this. He beamed at me before turning back and disappearing down a side street. I felt my mothers grip tighten slightly and she smiled. I smiled. That moment will forever be burned into my memory. Her smile, that perfect display of tender loving care. One of the last smiles I ever got.
I suppose that's how it works though. Lose one friend, and gain another. Unfair... but as my father would say later on 'Who ever said life was fair?"