Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Again, I'm sorry—trying to write in passive is becoming a little bit easier but I'm sure I made some mistakes I didn't catch! Who would have ever thought that I'd end up with major verb tense confusion? It's making me feel like such an amateur! Haha. (: Hopefully you can bear with me as I get back into the habit!
ALSO: There's no romance in this chapter. It's mostly just plot. Sorry I'm not sorry. More romance in 22!
As soon as I entered the house, a house elf sent my suitcases to my room with snapped fingers. "Miss is requested in the formal sitting room."
I'd only been back for two minutes, and already Flint was here? Dreading being reunited with him so soon, when my mind was still so fluttered, I made my way down the hallway and to the sitting room. My mouth popped open in surprise when I arrived, a gasp of joy spilled from my lips. "Grandmummy! Whatever are you doing here?"
My Mother looked less than pleased, sitting stiffly with a tea cup in her hand. "She arrived yesterday."
"How could I miss any of the planning for my first Granddaughters wedding?" She stood from her chair, arms outstretched. I hurried over to her, and lacking propriety, launched myself into her hug.
Once seated again, she turned to my mother, "Your mother's ideas are rather archaic in their traditionalism."
I found it rather difficult to suppress my giggles, but ended up managing after all. My mother turned her beady gaze on my Grandmother, "It is what is expected of us and of her," She insisted.
"Perhaps a time ago, but times are changing, Isadora. Joining the modern age wouldn't hurt you."
"Mother! I can't believe you'd suggest such."
"I'm not suggesting anything outlandish," My grandmother's lips are pressed so tightly together they formed a line across her face, "I'm merely suggesting you take into consideration your daughter's opinion."
"We have time to decide all of this, I still have a year to go at Beauxbaton's." I pointed out the one thing I thought had slipped everyone's mind.
"You're not returning to that school," My mother seemed disgusted by the thought, "You're future is in motion. You don't need to finish your education. Kristin and I were discussing a possible September wedding."
"September…this September?" I was woozy at the thought, my knees buckled, sending me back onto the couch. "If we rush into anything, people will assume that the hurried date is for another reason." Was she trying to push me into this so I wouldn't have time to find a way out of this arrangement?
"No one expects you to return to school in the fall. Most of your peers will not be returning to Hogwarts in the fall."
"Who doesn't plan on going back?"
"I believe the Malfoy's plan to keep Draco at home."
"That's not the majority of my peers. And Draco hasn't said anything of the sort to me."
Sitting quiet for too long, my grandmother finally interjected herself, "Isadora, it would be beneficial to let her finish her education."
"She's been handpicked to join the Venice Asps this fall…I thought that was what you wanted?" My mother baited me.
"Verne hasn't said one way or the other whether or not I'm going to be on the lineup, and when it was discussed, he made it clear that school would not deter my waiting position for the team. The season wouldn't start until early spring, so by then we'd be able to figure out how to balance both." I clarified, pointing out the details my mother so obviously ignored.
"Darling, our world is on precipice. There are much more important things for you in store in the year to come than school. Soon, we will be victorious. And when that happens, your education will not matter. You'll be adored for the role you play in our new future. You will be rewarded for the efforts you make. The Dark Lord doesn't care if you finished your schooling or not, because he knows what you're capable of."
It was more than odd for my mother to sit here and give me this speech. She had never pledged her life to the dark lord, merely left that to my father. She supported his mission whole heartedly, but my mother's arm was as bare as the day she was born. So was my Grandmother's.
I turned to her for backup, but she seemed as much at a loss as I was. "I'll go through with a September wedding date if you promise you'll let me go to school."
"We'll discuss it, your father and I," and just like that—the subject is dropped. There is no more I could say on the matter to sway her opinion.
Back in my bedroom, I started to sort through my suitcases. All these clothes in pastel colors—there was nothing for me to do with them. I knew my mother expected me to toss them, have the house elves use them as rags. Perhaps she thought I'd put a curse on them and send them straight to a Muggle Born's door, but I couldn't find it in myself to get rid of them.
"Dopey," I called into the empty room. The room filled with a loud cracking sound as she appeared. "Do you know if there are any empty trunks in our storage room?"
"Dopey can check for misses." The little elf bowed, disappearing as quickly as she came.
Sitting on the floor, I stared off into space, waiting for her to return. My idle thoughts drifted to Draco…
"That can be our star," He pointed out a tiny ball of light in the heavens.
"What? We're never going to remember which one it is."
"I'm pointing to all of them," He said, me nestled into his chest as we looked up at the night sky from our balcony, "I couldn't stop at a single star for you, you're too bright of a light."
I'm disrupted by another loud crack as Dopey appeared with a medium sized black leather trunk. "Will this work?"
"Yes, perfect!"
Dopey doesn't leave immediately, she impatiently waited, watching me. "Thank you?" My voice veered upwards, making it a question. The house elf bowed, and then finally left. I really hoped my Mother never saw me interact with her…
I walked over to the trunk, trying to figure out who it belonged to before. There aren't any markings on the trunk…my hands jittered with nerves as I moved to lift the lid.
But I'm disrupted before I make it very far, my door banged open as a crying Blair runs into the room.
"What's wrong?"
She didn't bother to wipe the tears from her face as she turned to me, "Krum. His parents don't approve of our match."
"What? Why not?"
"Their objections exist solely within our parents." She confessed, falling onto my bed.
"What are their objections?"
"Our mother," I handed her the tissue box on my night stand and patiently waited for her to continue. "They don't like the stories that they're hearing, they live in Bulgaria, you know? And they're hearing all of these rumors about things people say Mummy did in the Emma situation."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, Viktor's parents aren't on a side. They're sympathetic to the Dark Lord's plans, so that's not an issue. They've heard some stuff that can't possibly be true about how our parents handled Emma. They don't like that they decided to disown her, either."
"What are the rumors, Blair?" How had we gone this long without hearing the truth before?
"He said," She stopped, blowing her nose loudly, "It doesn't make sense. He said that people are saying Mum used some kind of potion on Emma to try and make her not choose…him. But Mum wouldn't do that…" She shook her head back and forth repeatedly, like if she did it enough times it would toss the thought from her head entirely.
"I'm surprised you haven't heard it sooner, Blair. I've been back at home for a few weeks and already a few people have made hints about that. I don't know if it's true or not—but I wouldn't put it past our mother to do something like that."
Blair was only two years older than me, only having left France a year ago.
"You believe it?" Disbelief was clearly written in her voice.
"Blair," I tried to sound as sensitive as possible, "I heard it from Narcissa. They used to be so close, I don't think she would tell me something like that if it wasn't true."
Blair inhaled sharply, leaving her mouth open as she blinked, repeatedly, her eyes unfocused as she tried to make sense of it all. Her hands find her face, cupping her cheeks as she starts to rock back and forth, "But—she left for him."
It was my turn to shrug, "It didn't work."
The longer she sat in front of me, the more obvious it became that she had accepted what I said. I knew it had to be particularly hard for her, she had always been so close to our parents, whereas I had been so young when Grandmummy took over, she was more my mother in a lot of ways that counted.
"I don't know what to do now—I thought I might be able to prove Mummy's innocence and regain the good graces of Viktor's parents…but if it is true, then there's no hope."
"Blair…" I reached out to smooth back her hair, "There will be more internationally famous quidditch stars."
She laughed; her nose squeaking which only caused us both to laugh, harder. "I felt so different about him, Hayley. I've never believed in soulmates, but whatever his soul is made of—"
"Don't," I cut off, laughing. "Mother's got you pinned for Wuthering Heights? That's an awful love story to set yourself up for."
"It's not much better than being pinned for Pride and Prejudice," I was thankful to see a smile on Blair's face, even if it looked pained.
"Did I tell you that Flint quoted the book once? He said his mother told him too, but I know our mother had some hand in it." I rolled my eyes.
"Honestly? I'm starting to think she's capable of anything." It sent pangs of guilt, knowing that Blair's image of our mother had been dented if not shattered. She let out a long sigh and pushed herself from my bed. "I'm going to go mope around in my room."
"If you need anything, I'm just a room away."
She lingered in the doorway, "I know. Thanks."
"Of course."
Silently, I sat after she left—still struggling to believe what we'd uncovered myself. I only fret on it for a moment before I remembered the trunk. Scrambling to the floor, I scooted towards it my curiosity piqued about the contents.
I worked much quicker this time, popping the locks and tossing the lid open.
A blue and bronze scarf sat on top, beneath that—a set of black robes. Emma. She'd been the family outcast long before she had run away with the Weasley boy. I grabbed the scarf, pushed it up to my face—it smelled like honey and vanilla. Like her. After all this time, it still smelled like her.
Carefully, I sat it to the side, taking just as much care as I removed her robes. Next, I pulled out a photograph—she was smiling, her black curls bouncing. I looked just like her. The boy beside her was dressed in the Hogwarts uniform, a red and gold tie around his neck. His arm was wrapped around her as he gazed down. Atop his head was the most ridiculous carroty red hair I'd ever seen. Charlie.
Tears sprung to the back of my eyes—how could our parents have seen this and not been happy that their daughter had found someone who looked at her like that? He looked at her like she was the moon, and he was the sun. I had never met him, been too young to pay attention to Emma when she had spoken of him, but this picture was all the proof I needed to know that he loved her. More than anyone.
I set that to the side, already knowing that I won't put it back in the trunk.
Under the photograph was a stack of letters, all written in messy scrawl. It feels too personal to read these letters, undoubtedly from Charlie—I put them back with the robe.
There were a few old textbooks in the trunk—advanced potion making, transfiguration, charms, I handle them with care and placed them next to her robes.
I'm disappointed as I come to the bottom—all that remained is a small silver jewelry box and leather bound. I scooped the two up, setting the journal with the photograph.
What jewelry would she have left in the box? When she had run away, she'd packed lightly, only taking what she would need in that moment. In the back of her mind, I wondered if she thought our parents would have accepted the choice that she had made. And not for the first time, I wondered how Charlie Weasley's parents felt about Emma. Did they disown him the way my parents had disowned her?
As soon as I'd opened the box, I realized I could cherish this, but I'd never be able to wear it. My Mother would eventually have recognized the pieces, and asked questions I didn't want to have to answer.
Emma had always loved the stars, and there, in that box was the necklace Blair and I had gotten her for her seventeenth birthday. It was a lariat necklace, the moon and a star. Unable to resist, I looped the necklace around my neck.
I stashed everything back in the trunk, only leaving out the journal and the photograph. All of the contraband clothes were nestled into a single bag, and there's just enough room left for me to squeeze that in with Emma's old things. Not seeing another option, I grabbed my wand and applied a charm to the trunk so that in the future it would not open for anyone but me.
My closet is so large, as it should be for how many ball gowns I was expected to own, not to mention cocktail dresses and formal robes and shoes and accessories that finding a place to hide the trunk ends up being the easiest part.
Once I've returned to my room, I locked the door. After I felt secured, I walked out onto my balcony taking a seat in the balmy summer air. I cracked open the journal, letting it fall to an entry…