Glory and Ashes
Empty
It feels wrong to be in the house when it is empty. Dorcas expects to hear her father's booming voice from the study, the French accent still discernible despite his years in England, "Is that my girl?" She expects her mother to come tip-tap-tapping from the kitchen in her high heels, her long dress protected by one of her flowery aprons, and her hands covered in flour. She expects to be feted and welcomed as she always has been, and instead there is emptiness.
Of course, she knew that that is how it would be. How could it be otherwise? Her parents are long gone, and she should be – she is – glad of it. In France with Tante Emilie and Oncle Jacques, they are safe, at least for the time being. And Dorcas understands why they left, why they would not stay and fight. Papa is old, even by wizarding standards. He remembers Grindelwald; he says he physically and mentally cannot face another war. And Mummy – well Mummy would follow Papa to the ends of the earth if he asked her to. Dorcas knew that she would not stay here alone.
They wanted her to go with them. She is their only child, their pride and joy. They want – need – her to be safe too. They cannot – or will not – see that if You-Know-Who prevails, they will not be safe for long, even in France. And Dorcas has to fight, as her father had to against Grindelwald. She has no choice, as he had no choice then.
Seeing the house dead and silent like this is almost more than she can bear. She goes to the study and fetches the papers she has come for as quickly as she can, and leaves without looking back. Her life is elsewhere now.
Dorcas is Dorcas Meadowes - and I know that I have made her father French and that Meadowes is not a French name. I think he had an English grandfather....
Calling your mother "Mummy" into adulthood is an English upper-class thing. I like to think that happens even in the wizarding world, and "my" Dorcas's mother comes from a definitely aristocratic family, despite the apron and the flour.