Reflections
Mons.17-05.May-Jul.2004

He pulled his sleeve over the palm of his hand and wiped the dust off the silver frame. With careful movements, he cleaned the glass. Sighing deeply, he traced his finger along the image before his hand dropped heavily to his side.
"Wait for me," he whispered, pressing two fingers to his lips, then touching the photograph.
He made his way down the hallway, dusting the oddly placed pictures frames in turn. When he'd finished, he went downstairs and sat in his armchair.
Moving to study the photograph he'd just spoken to, she watched a girl with blonde curls and bright blue eyes laugh and wave. Then she noticed her own visage superimposed over her mother's, mirrored in the glass.
They were almost identical.
Almost.
Her mother's eyes possessed a faraway, fantastical quality which, Lotus noted, her own did not.
Moving her gaze to the next picture, she frowned when she saw that half of the picture was left undusted. She looked further down the hall and realized that her father left himself covered, leaving the portion of glass covering his wife clean and clear.
Lotus turned her head and observed her father from the top of the stairs. Neville sat in his chair with his eyes closed, a faint smile on his lips. She knew he was lost in the photographs and returned her focus to the one before her. Softly, she blew the dust away from the younger glimpse of her dad and brushed her fingertips over his face.
The picture smiled at her; a familiar smile he reserved for her sister and herself – and their mother, she found.
The image of her mother was grinning at him from his side, kissing his cheek from time to time. Lotus locked eyes with the man in the photo.
His hazel eyes were smiling, but there was no dreamy glint in them.
Once again, she saw her own eyes in the glass and smiled to herself. While her eyes may have been the stunning blue of her mother's, her father was staring out of them.
"You cleaned me off."
Lotus started at his voice.
"Dad! Did you have to sneak up on me?" she demanded, one hand over her heart as if to slow it manually.
He chuckled and put an arm around her shoulders, admiring the photographs with her. She rested the side of her head against him.
"Why don't you dust them all?"
"I can look in the mirror and see myself any day."
"It makes mum look like she's kissing a dust bunny."
Neville nodded in agreement and absently brushed at a spot of dust he'd missed.
"Can't argue with that."
"When was this one taken?" she queried, blowing the dust from a portrait wherein Neville sported dark stubble on his cheeks and chin, smirking mischievously over Luna's shoulder as she laughed and he held her with one arm, the index finger of his free hand curled into a hook.
"Many, many years ago at Ron and Hermione's."
"Did you forget to shave?"
The man raised his eyebrows and put his hands in his pockets, seeming to contemplate his answer.
"Something like that," he answered quietly, pointing to another picture. "There's an old one. Graduation."
Lotus followed his gesture and giggled at the round-faced seventeen year-old with sandy-coloured hair flanked by a lanky red-head and a dark-haired young man with round spectacles and bright green eyes. The three of them were linked together, arms over each others' shoulders, grinning wildly in their school uniforms. The picture beside it showed her mother at sixteen on the left side of Hermione who was also graduating, and a copper-haired girl on her right.
"Mum looks a bit strange. Maybe it's that she's wearing blue and silver."
Neville quirked an eyebrow with a sidelong glance at his daughter.
"Are you sure it isn't the wand tucked behind her ear or the single radish earring in her ear?"
"Yes, I'm sure. But …" Lotus began, but left the question hanging as she frowned and cocked her head to the side.
"She could only find one and she thought this picture very special … and one is better than none, right?" The girl looked up at her father inquisitively and he shrugged, "Your mother had a different sort of logic. It worked for me."
Nodding, she agreed, "Me, too."
A frame just above the man's eye-level had captured his attention and again, his daughter found herself watching this behaviour. He straightened the frame carefully and took a deep breath. Suddenly, with a quick glance at the girl next to him, he knelt and gathered her into his arms.
"I love you Lotus Blossom," he whispered.
She was taken aback by the swiftness of the action, but managed, "I know you do, Dad. I love you, too."
He pulled away and held her in front of him.
"Tell them you love them," Neville commanded softly.
"Who?"
"The people you love. Always tell them."
She was a bit confused, but nodded, "Always."
"Don't wait until you only have time to say it once."
Lotus studied her father's eyes, somewhat puzzled by this instruction, and envisioned him cradling her mother in his arms, proclaiming his love in her final moments.
"Promise," he told her, bringing her out of her imaginations.
"I promise."
Neville pressed his lips to her forehead and hugged her once more.
"I'll be in the garden if you need me," he announced, standing and descending the steps.
The girl frowned thoughtfully and went to the bedroom she shared with her twin sister, finding her sprawled across the rug under the window, watching the clouds.
"Ivy?" she called, sitting on the floor nearby, legs folded.
The other child didn't respond verbally, but looked at her sister questioningly.
"You see her sometimes, right?"
Ivy sat up slowly and nodded, "Whenever she comes around."
"Daddy tells her he loves her right?"
"All the time. Just like he used to."
Lotus sighed in relief, and repeated to herself, "Just like he used to."
"That's what mum's and dad's do," Ivy went on, laying back and returning to her cloud-watching. "They say 'I love you' all the time."
Her sister smiled and reclined beside her, turning her eyes upward, content knowing that, at least in one way, her parents were no different than anyone else.

She found herself in the hallway, looking at the photographs. Realizing at once something very peculiar, she, then, meandered down the stairs on her way to the garden to find Neville.
Only he hadn't made it to the garden.
Alone in the kitchen, transfixed in another randomly placed portrait, Neville stood silently.
She watched him dust the glass and frame slowly, making sure it wasn't hung crookedly, and he paused.
"She's just like you," he said, his voice low, almost raspy.
"And you."
Neville coughed shakily, an attempt at removing the lump in his throat as he turned to face her.
"Would you like to step outside?" he offered, meeting her eyes.
"Only if you don't do that," she whispered, stepping to him.
"Do what?"
"That," she repeated, using her thumb to catch a tear that ran down his cheek. "It hurts."
"Sorry," he mumbled, taking her hand. She followed him outside and they sat together on a bench surrounded by white flowers, the tips of whose petals would come together like a set of puckered lips when someone got close. They all turned toward her and she smiled faintly. He put his arm on the back of the bench, behind her shoulders and looked at her left hand in his.
"Do you still have it?" Luna queried causing him to look at her.
"Of course I still have it," he told her, taking his hand away from hers and tugging on a small chain around his neck, hidden under his shirt. "Just like you left it."
A small diamond ring hung from the end and she smiled, slipping her finger through the band and placing her hand on his chest. He covered her hand with his and closed his eyes.
"Someone dusted my photographs," Luna stated.
Without opening his eyes, he remarked, "You looked like you were kissing a dust bunny."
They both chuckled and he peeked at her.
"I could conjure up some dust if you don't want to break routine; owl Ron and have him bring the kids over or something."
"It's nice to have a day away from cleaning," she disagreed, bending her head to look into the single eyes peering at her. He smiled and looked at her properly.
"Your daughter thought it very odd when I didn't dust all the frames."
"My daughter? No," she shook her head, "It must have been your daughter, as mine has watched me dust before."
"Is that so? I love how she tells me these things," he laughed lightly.
After a few moments, Luna asked, "So, what did you tell Lotus?"
Neville looked at her blankly.
"About what?"
Raising her eyebrows she told him, "The dusting."
"Oh, right," he mumbled, trying to remember. "Actually, I don't think she pursued it, really, but I said that I could see myself anyday."
She nodded and he took a deep breath, finding his hand still over hers.
"Ivy sees you all the time, doesn't she?"
"Yes."
"Does that mean she can See?" he wondered almost silently, eyes on the ground. Sucking in a breath, he looked at his wife with a scared look in his eyes. "Can she See … it all?"
Luna shook her head.
"I don't know, really … but I don't think so. I'm not sure, even, that I had enough to pass on. Ivy can see me because she looks."
He frowned.
"Lotus doesn't?"
"Ivy is curious with her eyes. Lotus is curious with her heart. She is content just to know me." She paused. "Just like you."
"No," Neville responded. "I'm selfish. I want to see you … hear you … hold you … feel you."
"You knew me first."
He was silent.
"She's a reflection of you, Neville."
"She looks nothing like me," he whispered.
Placing her other hand over his, she said, "In here, she does."