Chapter Six: Bittersweet
Their trip to Diagon Alley had been uneventful, for which Dinah was thankful. She had always been the woman who just wanted things done as quickly and with as few hitches as possible, though life wasn't always quite so simple.
It hadn't been easy the last couple of years since Rigel began his Hogwarts education. Trying to find money for school supplies was exceedingly difficult, especially considering all she owed to companies and money lenders.
Of course, they could fall back on Sirius' vault and the money that legally belonged to their son, though Dinah hated the very idea of living off her incarcerated partner. She would only get the bare minimum required for Rigel's school supplies, although this coming year he, as a third year student, now had the privilege of attending the village of Hogsmeade outside of school hours. It would be nice if he had some money for those weekends; she knew Sirius would want him to have some.
Once Rigel got his rather small amount of money from his father's vault, they had set off for the second-hand shops. They could often find used school textbooks and equipment in pretty good condition for a small fee, considering what they'd pay in the larger shops.
There was only one book that they hadn't been able to find there and had to venture into Diagon Alley's most famous of bookshops, Flourish and Blott's, to purchase.
Dinah wished she could have saved Sirius' bank account and given her old books to her son, but they'd been burned years ago in a fit of her father's rage. She may not have had a use for them now, but her son did.
She had needed some things from the Apothecary for the upcoming year, but what was she to pay with? That was Sirius' money; Rigel's money. Not hers. She'd simply have to wait and ask the Headmaster for an advance on her salary.
They had met up with Rigel's friends, the Weasleys, that day. They were doing some last-minute shopping themselves.
Dinah had never met the senior Weasleys, or indeed the two younger children, before that day, though she had come close to writing to Mrs. Weasley once or twice in the last two years. Her twin sons were rather mischievous. She couldn't fault their creativity, but pranks were, most definitely, not her favourite thing in the world. She'd had enough of that in her own school years without the next generation continuing the practice.
The Weasleys had invited the Potions Professor and her son to the Leaky Cauldron for a bite to eat with them.
It was improper to dine with students and their families, even outside of school hours, and Dinah had protested as such, though her attempts had turned out to be futile. There was no way she could win against Molly Weasley; the plump, ginger-haired witch simply wouldn't allow it. "You're all skin and bones, dear," she had scolded, kindly, to which three of her sons had snickered at the maternal reprimand.
It was hardly a description she could deny. With money so scarce in her house it wasn't often that she and her son ate, though when they were able to afford food she, naturally, gave Rigel all he required. He was still a growing boy; he needed it. She hadn't grown an inch in the last twenty years; what use did she have for food? As long as she at least had water she was unlikely to kick the bucket in the next five days.
That said, there was still the fact that she felt uncomfortable eating anyway; even in her private quarters at Hogwarts. Though it may have been true that she didn't appear to be the type of witch who was so self-conscious, those words had still played in her head, even from her first week at Hogwarts, and eating was certainly something she could barely think of doing without recalling her upbringing.
Truth be told, the last thing she really wanted at that moment was to eat dinner with the Weasleys in public.
"Merlin, she eats like an animal," he had said, completely disgusted. James Potter.
The first he saw of her after the Sorting Ceremony was from across the room that same night, and, with a clear line of sight of the oddball Slytherin, he watched her eat her tea. She was anything but ladylike. She tore into that drumstick like a child possessed; the poor chicken was hacked to pieces.
She had barely touched her cutlery, eating the contents of her plate with her fingers.
The curly-haired boy next to him responded. "Don't say that. It's unfair to animals," and he and James had laughed together. Two other boys had been in the vicinity at the time that they'd met on the Hogwarts Express, Remus and Peter, and even they found the humour in it.
However, the red-headed girl, Dinah's best friend Lily, had jumped in to defend the Slytherin.
"That's not very nice," she said. "How would you like it if someone said that about you?"
"Who'd ever say that about me?" the bespectacled boy scoffed. "I've actually heard of manners."
"Dinah has enough manners to not say nasty things about people," Lily retorted, fire in her eyes.
It never mattered to Lily that her friend wasn't the most… delicate of eaters; no one was perfect. She didn't know the reason why, but never questioned it.
Of course, Dinah had never been taught how to eat in a dignified manner. Her father had always eaten the way she had in the Great Hall that evening. He had kept his wife as far away from her daughter as possible, even when under the same roof, so Eileen couldn't teach her the etiquette she'd been taught herself as a child and Dinah deserved to know to avoid ridicule by her peers.
From the following day forward, Dinah was harassed by the boys. She would never defend herself, however, something Lily couldn't understand.
Lily hadn't known until several years later that her friend's upbringing had been anything less than desirable.
There had been one occasion when Dinah was five and tried to speak up for herself… to her father; the biggest mistake she had ever made to date at that point in time.
Fully-aware of the penalty following that confrontation, she didn't speak out in defence of herself anymore, for fear of upsetting anyone else in the same manner and having to live with the guilt every day of her life, which she would surely be reminded of on a daily basis.
Regardless, she sat with the family and watched her son socialise with the ginger-haired children.
Mrs. Weasley had tried talking to her, but Dinah wasn't quite so eager.
The older witch had also tried getting the teacher to eat something, but she wouldn't. Rigel offered her a solitary chip off his plate and she wouldn't even eat that.
When the children's plates were empty they had gone off to explore Diagon Alley, though not without a few words of warning from their mothers.
Mrs. Weasley had reiterated the same warning her children had memorised several years ago. The twins had even finished off her speech for her.
Dinah had turned to her own son. "Do not enter Gambol and Jape's," she said, slowly shaking her head. She hadn't forgotten what happened last year when she had given her son free reign in Diagon Alley and the mischief he got up to at Hogwarts.
The silvery-eyed teen feigned disappointment. "Oh, ple-e-e-ease,"he begged playfully in a sing-song voice. "I won't cause trouble, I promise."
"I seem to recall you saying that last year," she replied, in a monotone voice. "Stay out of trouble."
Turning to exit, Rigel rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mum," he sighed.
Before she could rebuke him for rolling his eyes at her, he had already gone off with the five redheads.
In the absence of youth, the senior Weasleys had once more attempted to strike up conversation with the woman, though without success; thus the trio wound up in something of an awkward silence.
When the youngsters had returned an hour later, the family of past, present and future Gryffindors had bid their farewells and made their way home, leaving the two dark-haired individuals standing face-to-face with one another.
Rigel smiled. "No pranks were pulled in that adventure, Mum. Don't worry," he chuckled. He then pulled from behind him a gift-wrapped box and handed it to his mother, who glanced at her son warily. "It's not a bomb; it's Christmas come early," he joked, and handed the present to his mother.
"You weren't to spend any money, except for the bare necessities," Dinah told the young man before her, as she gingerly took the package from his hands.
"This is a necessity, Mum. It's necessary for you."
Dinah wasn't quite so sure about that, but gently tugged on the purple velvet ribbon, allowing the gold paper to graciously fall from the box. Inside the box were two dozen brand new crystal phials.
As the woman raised her eyes to meet those of her son, he spoke again.
"Don't say anything. I know you needed new ones. I've seen the state of the ones on your classroom shelves. They're filthy and cracked. Last time I was in there I got covered in lovage juice." He grimaced at the memory, recollecting the befuddling ingredient. "I wasn't the only one confused that day."
Unsure of what to say, as she glanced from the contents of the box to the young man before her, Dinah had to settle for a "Thank you, Rigel."
Rigel had wanted to hug his mother, kiss her even, but he knew how uncomfortable she was with such contact, especially considering events of the last few years. In a somewhat bold move, however, he did take his mother's hand in his own.
Despite her discomfort, she had to admit to herself that she did feel slightly more secure at his touch than she had before.
As the pair made their way down the platform of King's Cross Station, an hour early, Dinah watched her son disappear through the brick wall, which led to the Hogwarts Express. She hoped muggles hadn't seen it happen. She'd never considered it to be the most discrete placement for a barrier between the worlds of the magical and non-magical.
Observing the muggles around her, Dinah chose her moment wisely, before casually striding straight through the wall. On the other side, Rigel was waiting patiently for her.
He was, one might say, the ever-dutiful son; the son many would wish for. The truth was, he didn't like the thought of his mother being alone; at least not for extended periods of time. While two minutes of solitude could scarcely make much of an impact, he'd seen first-hand that she sometimes closed herself off from the world. He didn't like it, but he'd grown used to it.
The two walked in the direction of the scarlet steam engine for Rigel to board.
"Have a safe journey," was the plain farewell from his mother.
It hurt him that she wouldn't hug or kiss him like other mothers did with their sons, even in their awkward teenage years, but he'd never been able to tell her.
"I will," he smiled, weakly, hoisting his luggage onto the train.
"Don't eat too many sweets. You'll spoil your dinner."
"I won't," the boy sighed, dejected by the lack of affection. "I'll see you at Hogwarts, Mum."
"See you at Hogwarts," she whispered, before turning and leaving the platform.