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Charlie
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"I wish I was the Verb to trust and never let you down..."
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"Wake UP, Chuck!" A young female voice echoed through Charlie Podmore's distracted brain over the old, rough breakfast table. He blinked slowly on purpose, giving his younger sister a sleepy smile through his dark hair and over his porridge.
"I am awake, Stephanie," He yawned, sitting up a bit straighter, "And don't call me that," Actually, he was quite awake. He was up earlier than usual, but it was so that he could get something special done before work. It was the last day of August in London as well, and a Sunday morning at that. Outside the sky was cloudy, casting pearly grey light through the rather old windows of the studio flat. Charlie's mum was in the kitchen area behind him, bacon frying as she hummed some muggle rock song from a million years ago.
There was a knock on the front door of their apartment, before it opened to admit his significantly older sister, who lived one floor below them with her family and was clearly far too perky for such an early hour, "Morning, family!" Megan sang, hurrying inside with Zacharias in tow, their daughter Zoë yawning behind them. Hestia Podmore looked up from the stove with a bright smile,
"Morning, favorite daughter," Hestia called back, "Breakfast will be on soon enough,"
"Hey!" Stephanie pouted, to which her mother replied,
"Favorite oldest daughter with the last name Smith," She clarified. Stephanie was appeased.
Sunday morning breakfasts involving the entire family had been a tradition for a few years by now. The way their world was, survival at their social level demanded someone to always be working at some point. Charlie and his father both worked at the Finch-Fletchley's Apothecary, Megan at Madam Malkin's, Zacharias was a bar tender at the Leaky and Hestia worked at St. Mungo's most days of the week. Sunday mornings though, most all of them were home, until Charlie had to go to work. Thus, twas the only time the entire extended family got together.
"Morning, little brother," Megan wrapped an arm around Charlie's neck, kissing the top of his dark brown mop. The eighteen year old gave her a good-humored glare.
"Morning, ancient sister," He quipped back, while Megan sat down next to Zach across from him. She attempted a glare at him, but the fact that her daughter was plopping down next to him rather killed the argument. He was right, Megan was old enough to be his mum. But she was certainly not ancient. There was nary a line on her face or a grey hair in her brilliantly red tresses (at least, none that Zach hadn't given her, but even those had been there since she was seventeen so they were hardly testament to the passage of time). And she often still felt like the same bubbly, optimistic (albeit slightly dented) Hufflepuff she'd been when she was her younger brother's age.
"Where's dad?" Zach asked when Megan's mother brought the rest of the food to the table, frowning at Stephanie and Zoë as they started tossing dry cereal at each other. Hestia turned and gave Zach a smile as she sat down at the head of the table. Though she was much like her daughter in the aging well department, she had quite a few years on the 35 year old. Hestia's dark hair was liberally touched with grey and there were plenty of laugh lines on her face. But even those seemed well-placed, giving her a mature beauty that spoke of years blessed with laughter and amusing, often exasperating children and grandchildren.
"Give the poor man a few," She replied to her son-in-law with a smirk, dishing out the bacon, "His ancient knees aren't exactly the most agreeable these days,"
"I heard that!" Came a grumble from above, and all looked up as Sturgis Podmore made his way down the iron staircase and into the common living area, "And I could follow it up with a quip on your hearing woman, but we're not that old yet..."
"I should buy you both rocking chairs," Megan grinned, even as her stepfather tried and failed to glare at her. He simply gave a long-suffering sigh, kissing his wife good morning and mussing his daughter and grand-daughter's hair as he passed them, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table.
Charlie watched this all with a thoughtful, amused expression. When his entire family was seated though and started passing around plates, he cleared his throat, standing up as he did, "Before everyone got to eating," He said tentatively, when all eyes were turned to watch his lanky, slightly embarrassed form, "I had something I...wanted to give to Zoë," Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, Charlie pulled out an envelope, and handed it to Megan.
"Charlie, what's..." Megan's curious smile melted away, as she looked into the envelope, "Oh my Merlin, Charlie I can't accept...we can't...ZACH!" She looked at her husband with wide eyes, "This is enough money to..."
"Send Zoë to Hogwarts," Charlie grinned, as his parents gaped, his younger sister grinned, and his niece's eyes grew as big as bludgers, "I've been putting it away since I was fourteen, after Aunt Sally and Uncle Justin told us how they'd budgeted enough for Morgan to go," The boy paused anxiously, but when various adults began to protest, Charlie was firm in his resolve, "No, I want to do this. Mum and Dad have had to support four people and it was too late for me to start saving up for Stephanie..."
"Which I entirely understood," Steph added in, still grinning. Megan looked at her little sister sharply,
"You KNEW about this!"
"Of course," The fifteen year old said airily, "Charlie asked how I felt, and I said mum was a perfectly good teacher," She grinned again, "It is poor Zoë who would have had to get by on Meg and Zach teaching her, and do you really wish that on your own daughter sis?"
"Oh very funny," Megan replied weakly, as tears were now entering her eyes. Zoë was still unable to talk, and Zach looked much like his wife did. It was Hestia, who finally broke the silence,
"I was wondering why you hadn't gotten yourself new boots this winter," She noted softly. She remembered a day when the only cost Hogwarts came with was for books, robes and other supplies. The world had changed though. And while it was infinitely better now than it had been fifteen years ago, the rich still ruled the world and tried to keep the poor down by placing a price on the essential magical education. Even so, her children had chosen to work hard in this world, as opposed to going bitter. Both Hestia and Sturgis looked at their son with shining, rather proud eyes and Charlie, in turn, gave his mother a sheepish smile,
"My feet weren't growing any bigger," He answered, looking back at his sister, "There should be enough left over for a proper wand and maybe even some school robes..."
"There is," Megan sobbed, finally pushing herself up, hurrying around the table and enveloping her little brother in a bear hug, "Oh I...I don't even know! Thank you, Charlie, so much,"
"Any time, ancient sister," Charlie said lightly, even as he was clearly trying not to cry too, "Any time..."
From her seat, little Zoë Smith, who'd turned 11 that past June and had gotten a Hogwarts letter she'd never thought she'd be able to use, finally spoke. Twisting the ends of her dark brown braids in her fingers, she looked between her grandparents, and then at her uncle, "So," She asked in a tiny voice, "Who's taking me school shopping tomorrow?"
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Diagon Alley was a madhouse the next day. It was September 1st, and there was plenty to be done before all of the schoolchildren had to be at the gates of New Hogwarts. Fine skirts and robes swished through the street, with a few less frivolous individuals dotted amongst them. Among these were Zoë Smith and her parents, as they bought her a wand, robes, and second hand school books. And on the other side of the alley, Rodmilla and Oubliette were getting themselves fitted for new dress robes.
"I look like a blue cupcake," Oubby proclaimed, bustling out of the fitting rooms with a frown. Watching her from a small chair placed nearby, her mother Orla cracked up slightly,
"I've heard that one before," She grinned, tilting her head as the laughter faded and she inspected the poofy thing her poor daughter was wearing, "And you are absolutely right, you do look like a confection, but in a bad way," Orla stood up, standing behind her daughter as she inspected herself in the mirror, while Rodmilla floated over in something pink and flowy,
"See, now, why can't I look like Miss No-Hips over here in clothes?" Oubby asked of the cosmos in a wry tone, sighing. Orla laughed again, both looking and sounding much younger than her 32 years,
"Because," She sighed right back, "We are, sadly, cursed with curves. Lovely ones at that!" She tugged at the high waistline of the dress slightly, over the poofyness, "Still, this does nothing for them at all. Or any woman. You haven't a bit of fat on you and somehow this thing makes you look otherwise. I'm not even sure why we took it off the rack..."
"It was the ruffles," Rodmilla reminded them with a giggle, spinning in front of a mirror next to Oubliette's. Her best friend giggled right back,
"Ah yes, never could say no to ruffles, alas!"
"Are you ladies finding everything just fine?" A young witch asked, a woman who'd been hovering nearby after hearing Madam Malkin proclaim that 'The Notts and Lestranges are in!' in a manic tone. Orla grinned at her by way of the mirror,
"Well, we're looking at least, Oubby here got momentarily sidetracked by unflattering ruffles," She informed the young saleswoman, who in turn put on a convincing giggle,
"Oh, I see!" She gushed, turning to Oubliette, "It must be so nice, having an older sister around to give an honest opinion!" Rodmilla froze, knowing the woman had just said one of the worst things one could say to her best friend. Not that she'd meant to, but Oubby had been picked on quite enough as a child, by her own cousin and other peers, about her very young mother,
"She is not my sister," She said sharply, turning away from the mirror to give the young witch an icy glare, even as Orla rested a hand on the girl's elbow, "She is my mother, and The Lady Lestrange, and you will address her as such, lesser."
"I'm s..sorry," The witch tripped over her own tongue, stepping back, "I meant no disrespect I only..."
"Tarja!" The elderly Madam Malkin made her entrance then, sweeping over and tipping her head to her customers, "Madam Lestrange, Miss Lestrange, Miss Nott. Pardon my girl here. She's new!" The woman said this brightly, but it was with a harsh glare and a strong tug that she pulled the shaking sales girl away. Orla sighed, shaking her head,
"Oubliette, that was unnecessary," She murmured. Silently, Rodmilla agreed, but she said nothing, as she adjusted the petal-like sleeves of her dress, "It was an honest mistake and..."
"No, it wasn't," Oubliette said firmly, tilting her chin upwards, "You are the wife of Rabastan Lestrange and my mother, anyone with half a brain for politics...Merlin, anyone who reads the Daily Prophet should know who you are!" She shook her head, tossing her glossy brown curls, "Uneducated bint, I'll wager a galleon on her being a mudblood,"
"Now that I will not tolerate!" Orla said firmly, "I appreciate the family loyalty, Oubby love, but I won't have my daughter displaying an uncivil tongue. Your father wouldn't like it either,"
That stilled Oubliette's anger. She sighed, glaring into the mirror once more as a thousand childhood taunts returned to mind, before shaking her head again, "Forgive me," She said quietly, glancing down, "And ugh, let's find something...not this, yes?"
"Yes," Rodmilla smiled, walking over to a rack and pulling out something twirlly and green, "Here, matches your eyes, which I know my twin shall appreciate!" Both laughing, Orla and Oubliette returned to the fitting room with the dress in hand.
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Rodmilla returned to her mirror, tilting her head, pushing back her long blond hair and turning slightly, inspecting herself in the pink dress. Generally she was not a fan of pink, but this was growing on her. The door to the shop opened and, expecting her mother, Rodmilla looked up, only to see a redheaded woman greeting Madam Malkin like an old friend. Rodmilla recognized her, as one of the women who worked at the shop part time...and for another reason. She had her daughter in tow, and Zoë looked up as her mum talked, catching sight of Rodmilla in her dress. The young girl gave her a tiny wave, and Rodmilla waved back, cautiously, after making sure no one was watching.
Slipping away from her mum, Zoë crept between the racks, and Rodmilla bent down beside the rack closest to her, so that no one could see her from across the shop. Peering through the hanging robes, Zoë grinned, "You look really pretty in that dress, Milla."
"Yeah?" Rodmilla whispered back, looking around again to make sure her best friend wasn't coming back, before grinning back at the girl, "Think Charlie would like it on me?"
"Oh yeah," Zoë giggled, covering her mouth as she did so, "I'll make sure to take pictures at school so he can see..."
"Oooh," Rodmilla grinned wider, "So you got your surprise then, did you?"
"You knew too! I mean, I did!" Zoë whispered excitedly, showing Rodmilla her new wand, "And I'm getting a new school robe! And, and, an owl! And...he's just the best in the world, ever..."
"Yeah," Rodmilla sighed, still smiling softly even as her face turned pink and her voice sounded rather sad, "He really is..."
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Author's Notes: Yes, yes, I am still writing, never fear! Plotbunnies of doom attacked today for this fic, and I am enjoying it. More soon!