Andromeda looked into the mirror at her reflection and quietly smirked; her Ma was going to be horrified. Sighing she flipped her hair over one shoulder and ran her fingers deftly through it, picking apart some knots confounding her rhythmic curls and admiring the new color she'd dyed it. Since moving to Hogwarts and being swept away with the lure of magic and sultry mind games that consumed her, she'd missed the routine of a simple muggle life, and it tugged at her heart strings in a way she would never admit.
Back in her small room, it was hard to believe she was this young once. The ghostly pink walls still remain, even though her Da had been saying he'd replace it for years, and her snug bed looked so inviting curled in the corner among golden dust motes lulling around the simple room. Her bags were still in the doorway, filled with her holiday homework and books she couldn't leave behind in her new dorm room. And that confounded cauldron, she pouted at the thought, it had taken forever to squish it into her trunk. But she was adamant, her Da was going to watch her make a potion, and he was going to be so proud.
She just knew it.
With a quaint smile at her proud papa and caring mama she twirled around the room, stirring the motes into an action of frenzy that seemed to awake the room, and promptly flopped back onto the inviting duvet and snuggled into its' folds, not a care in the world. And there she stayed, sleeping soundly throughout the night, and even when her parents came giggling through the front door at an ungodly hour of the night, still tipsy with their last drink, she slept on soundly.
They slipped through her door when they saw her strewn luggage about the living room and looked at eachother in anticipation; their baby girl. She was stretched upon her bed, tangled in her sheets as ever. And cooing, they thought to themselves how some things never change. Martha looked down at the half unpacked trunk; completely filled with books, and smiled endearingly. She looked up at her husband and pointed silently, smile widening at the feeling of home she felt in her house once more.
He looked down at the sight and snorted in commendation. His little girl wasn't so little anymore, and the light catching his daughters hair from the window told him that she'd done her fair part of growing and experimenting. Her leant over and smoothed her wild hair, 'tame the beast' he thought smugly. The moonlight hit her face, and yet not a stir; always a deep sleeper, her eyes flickered behind her lids as she chased the tails of a dream fringing onto her.
Back in their room Martha and Jon Pendle slept across the bed from eachother, neither of them mentioning the distance between them. Martha's mind swam swimmingly with the thoughts that flitted about within it; she ached for her husband. A reassuring touch, a gentle hold of the elbow as they danced, a sweet caress. There'd been a long time since anything was there, and she shuddered at the thought that her child within her wasn't going to fix a thing, not that Jon knew yet.
Jon laid transfixed by his wife; she'd been pulling further and further apart from him, and it wasn't just lately. An overwhelming sense of inadequacy threatened to waver his resolve and he had to bite his trembling lip to stop from crying. It was so pathetic of him, a fully grown man, still in the throes of love when love was gone, and he felt it, he mightn't be magical like she was but she didn't need anymore magic; when she felt blue the house grew dark and cold and there wasn't a to do about it, and she'd sit there in her window seat with her kicks up against the pain again crying into the glass... and it killed him. Her drawings strewn across the floor again and they wouldn't move, the smiles she drew onto their faces looked just that; drawn on.
It filled him with an intrinsic longing for her, beyond the realms of physical gratification or emotional connection, he just wanted her to be happy again. So when he saw a tremor grasp her lithe frame and shudder her tremendously he was captivated by her sorrow, and in turn sorrowful at the woe astride them in this damned house; and held her. She gasped and he heard it, he heard the stifling of sobs and when he turned her into him she rocked with them as he held her.
Strong hands grasped her and when she met the comforting embrace he was giving her she let some of it go, just a little to be considered enough as tears rolled down her cheeks, she pressed herself into his shoulder and he held her with a slight trepidation. She hated that hesitation in him, it never used to be there and its existence alone filled her with bitterness which only fueled her tears as she rocked with him, and throughout it all, he held her.
That night they slept in each others clutches, and it was the first time in months.
The sunlight hit my nose and I crinkled at the warmth and leaned into it. Face pressed into the pillow I took a huge breath and inhaled the scent of home. Home.