I'm back from my trip and should start updating quicker again.
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Ewald's arm helps me stay steady as I step out of the fireplace. Is it part of a pureblood child's training to exit a Floo journey with distinction? We arrive in a parlour different from the one I was greeted in during my first and only visit. This one is quite small (for a manor parlour, that is), decorated in softer shades of green than those of the Carter manor, and seems to be exclusively intended for welcoming Floo travellers. There is only one armchair, in a corner of the room, which looks fairly comfortable. A half-open door is situated opposite the fireplace we've just stepped out of.

Ewald's grandmother is handing her coat to a fairly young man I've never seen before. He must be in his thirties, with chestnut hair like Arthur's, though neater. He's wearing a fine Wizarding robe, fairly simple but trimmed with gold. This must be Arthur's older brother.

"An elf will take care of your coat, Lady Easton. I understand you've not yet had the chance to visit the manor?"

"Don't bother with such formalities, young man. I'm sure my dear Anna-Linde has already made the reasons as to why we avoid each other pretty clear."

"Very well. I'll guide you to the parlour once I've taken care of the rest of your family's coats," the young man replies, diplomatically ignoring the old woman's insinuations.

He greets Ewald's mother with a welcoming smile and a kiss on the hand, which she accepts graciously, as if finding such gestures perfectly normal. If he tries the same with me, we're going to have a problem...

"Good evening, milady. I am Elwin Clifford, Arthur's elder brother. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," Ewald's mother replies with a smile, letting him take her cloak. Her voice is steady, though it doesn't carry much.

Elwin then turns to us, greeting Ewald with stiff cordiality (don't ask me how he manages that). It feels like they've met before, probably at some pureblood event.

"Lord Slide, it's a pleasure to meet you in a less official setting than usual."

Ewald grimaces at the mention of his title and exchanges a firm handshake with him.

"Lord Clifford, that pleasure would be mutual if you refrained from mocking me."

The brunet's smile passes for a laugh, and he replies, "Welcome, Ewald."

He then turns to me, still smiling, and greets me without attempting a kiss on the hand, much to my relief.
"And you must be Vivian? I've heard a lot about you."

"Delighted," I reply, wondering if he's heard about me from Arthur, or from his mother after I killed a paedophile. Of course, I don't ask the question—proof of my immense talent for diplomacy—and follow the group as Elwin leads us through the corridors to the parlour where I was welcomed a few years ago.

The occupants of the room stand as we arrive. I recognise Arthur's mother, wearing a midnight-blue Wizarding dress adorned with swirling abstract patterns. Behind her stand Arthur and a man I don't know, who is probably his father. Finally, Arthur's grandmother is present as well, offering me a slight smile when our eyes meet.

The greetings are relatively informal, apart from those of the grandmothers, who exchange icy remarks before locking themselves in a silent battle of glares. This stand-off is interrupted by Arthur's father's invitation to sit on the room's large sofas. I find myself seated next to Arthur on a sofa facing the one occupied by Ewald and Elwin. The adults have divided themselves by age group, and it seems everyone is relieved to let the matriarchs bicker in peace without intervening.

The conversation lasts a good half-hour, during which I don't contribute much, though I maintain a polite demeanour. We start with the usual pleasantries—how everyone is doing, and our academic results at Hogwarts (for some unknown reason, mine seem to please Arthur's grandmother and fuel the passive-aggressive exchanges between the elders). After that, the "adults" converse among themselves while we share updates and anecdotes (or rather, the others do most of the talking). True to my impression, Ewald and Elwin seem to know each other quite well. Surprisingly, I feel a twinge of irritation at Ewald's lack of effort to explain their relationship to me. He doesn't owe me anything, but I can't help feeling this way. A stomach ache begins to brew, but I act as though nothing is wrong.
Speaking of Ewald, he throws one or two discreet glances toward his mother, likely out of concern, but he quickly seems reassured. She chats animatedly with Arthur's parents, and while she doesn't speak as loudly as they do, she appears quite relaxed. Watching her like this, you wouldn't think she's been living as a recluse for over a decade. More than that, it seems to be doing her good. When Ewald notices that I've caught on to his observations, he gives me a subtle nod before resuming his conversation. This small gesture of solidarity eases the feeling of isolation I hadn't dared acknowledge, born from witnessing the rapport between Elwin and Ewald. My stomach ache waxes and wanes, the pain reminiscent of a tearing sensation. It stirs a vague memory, though I can't pinpoint what it reminds me of.
When we finally move to the dining table, the seating arrangement mirrors that of the aperitif. The two matriarchs occupy one end of the table, while the parents' generation presides over the other, leaving my generation wedged between them. I end up seated between Arthur (on my right) and his grandmother. Ewald is directly across from me, flanked by Elwin and his own grandmother. As a result, my position is ideal for eavesdropping on the sharp exchanges between the grandmothers. I must admit, I let my ears wander—it's entertaining. No one speaks to me much anyway. Arthur and Ewald are engrossed in discussing their future plans with Elwin, who shares his university memories with them.

Arthur's parents occasionally interject to ask my friends about their grades, Hogwarts, and families they know. Ewald's mother even timidly asks Arthur what his girlfriend plans to do after Hogwarts, after the Hufflepuff goes on at great length about how adorable he finds her. Arthur's grandmother proudly declares that it would be a pleasure to see Cian Rosewater join their family. It seems she's a pure-blood too. Ewald's grandmother looks faintly displeased, though I can't quite tell why.
The meal continues in this fashion, and I keep a low profile. My stomach continues to ache. I exchange a few words with Arthur's grandmother, who addresses me informally and asks if I enjoy Hogwarts, what my favourite subject is, and whether I'm keeping up with my studies. Ewald's grandmother nods approvingly when I mention Charms, remarking that from what she's seen, I show promise. This unexpected compliment takes me by surprise, and Arthur's grandmother's next comment only adds to my confusion. She retorts that she isn't surprised and that I was already extremely clever at six years old. The conversation continues, and I realize they're using me as a new battleground for their rivalry. It's mildly amusing but also deeply awkward. To make things worse, Arthur seems oblivious to what's going on, and Ewald gives me an ironic smile when I look at him. Meanwhile, my stomachache persists.

It's not the kind of pain caused by hunger or overeating. It's lower. It ebbs and flows, its familiarity growing more insistent. I understand what's happening the moment I feel something wet between my legs. I've started my period. Why now? Why tonight, surrounded by strangers, in an unfamiliar place, wearing beautiful, pristine new clothes? My embarrassment must show on my face because my neighbour asks,
"Are you alright, Vivian?"
I blush. I glance around and feel relieved that the others don't seem to have noticed. Only Ewald's grandmother looks slightly intrigued. I have no idea how witches handle these things, and I'm not about to announce it. Still, I need to answer Arthur's grandmother; she's already figured out that something's wrong.
"I-I think I've started my period…" I whisper.

I feel my face flush even more. The old woman looks briefly surprised before a reassuring smile lights up her face.
"This is your first time, isn't it?"
"Yes," I reply, mortified.
"It's alright, my dear, there's nothing to worry about. Come with me."
She's still smiling gently as she stands and gestures for me to follow her. Arthur and Ewald exchange a glance, and Arthur asks his grandmother,
"What's going on?"
"Women's matters, don't worry about it."

The phrasing seems to put the adults at the table at ease, and Arthur refrains from asking more questions. I grimace inwardly at those words: women's matters. I suppress the wave of disgust rising in me. Getting my period doesn't bring back good memories. Ewald doesn't look pleased to see me leaving, but he hides it well; I only notice his unease because of how familiar I am with him (and perhaps because we've shared minds so much). In a way, I understand. He can't follow me or keep an eye on me. There might be something I could try if I could shake off Arthur's grandmother, but I'm not sure I'll have the time. Even so, I don't have any supplies.
I follow the old woman to a bathroom equipped with a toilet. I begin to dread that she might ask me to undress. Thankfully, she simply says kindly:
"I'll let you remove your undergarments. Let me know if your clothes are stained, alright? We'll clean everything, and then I'll teach you the spells all witches learn to take care of these things."

Embarrassed by the idea of her seeing my underwear, I try to tell her that I can handle the cleaning myself. She laughs and reassures me that it's not the first time she's had to deal with this and that there's no need to feel awkward.
"Everything will be fine. There are some things you need to learn, but there's nothing to be ashamed of, alright?"
I nod reluctantly. It's not that I feel ashamed of having my period—it's normal—but the situation is mortifying. I barely know this woman, and everyone saw me leave the room… I would have preferred to handle it on my own. Still, I'm curious to learn how this is managed in the Wizarding world.
Luckily, only my underwear is stained. Ewald's grandmother teaches me a spell to make the blood disappear. I can't help but think how useful it would have been to know this spell earlier, and the thought amuses me—it feels very murderess-esque. This morbid humour lightens my embarrassment a little, and the old woman's demeanour helps as well. She speaks to me as if I were her daughter, with the air of someone passing down ancient secrets. It feels like this moment is significant in a witch's life, something shared with one's elders. It's comforting in a way. At no point does she criticize me or imply that periods are dirty or shameful. Not that I think that way, but I've heard enough of those kinds of comments before. So, is Anna-Linde (as she's told me to call her) particularly relaxed about this, or is it a Wizarding thing...?
In any case, once my underwear is spotless, Arthur's grandmother teaches me two new spells. The first one alleviates period pain and is relatively easy to cast. Apparently, there's a more advanced version that soothes general pain, but this one is very specific. Like Glamour charms, it continuously draws on magical energy. Anna-Linde explains that this is why we're taught the simpler version: it's less taxing. Moreover, the advanced spell requires solid knowledge of healing magic, as it involves visualizing the pain (easier to do with periods when casting on oneself).
The second spell stops the blood flow. She notes that it must be released whenever you use the toilet to allow secretions to be expelled properly.
She urges me to replicate the spells to ensure I can manage them on my own. The problem is, Ewald confiscated my wands. Flushing with embarrassment, I admit:
"I don't have my wand with me. I left it at Ewald's family manor."
The old woman looks utterly shocked, and I can see suspicion flicker in her eyes.
"How did that happen?"
I need an excuse, fast.
"Uh, I thought it might be impolite to bring a wand to another wizard's house… As if I was expecting to need protection, you know? In the Muggle world, it's considered very rude to bring a weapon to a formal dinner…"

Anna-Linde rolls her eyes.
"A wizard's wand is an extension of their magic. You must never part with it. Your wand is part of you, and you can never know when you might need it. Merlin, even witches and wizards specializing in wandless magic rarely distance themselves from their wands… Promise me you won't make this mistake again. I thought you were more sensible than that, young lady."
I flush, feeling both embarrassed and furious. Of course, I would never willingly part with my wand! The old witch mutters under her breath:
"What kind of world is this, where the young feel so safe they think they can go about without their wands…?" She sighs and continues, louder: "Well, no matter. You're young, and I hope you've learned your lesson. In the meantime, I'll transfigure a wand for you so you can show me if you've mastered the movements and incantations."
With that, Anna-Linde points her wand at a glass on the sink, transforming it into a long, glass wand. She makes me practice the two spells over and over until she's satisfied that I can cast them perfectly, before advising me to always consult an adult if I ever feel unsure.
"It's better to be certain, alright? I imagine you've already learned in class about the unintended consequences of poorly cast spells."
My grimace must speak volumes because Anna-Linde regards me with a reassuring look.
"Do you feel ready to return to the dinner now?"
"I still need to use the bathroom, if that's alright."
"Of course," the old woman smiles. "Would you like me to wait for you?"
"Thank you, but I think I can find my way back just fine. Thank you so much."
"Very well. If you're unsure, just call for Kelly, one of our house-elves—she'll guide you."
"Thank you," I reply with a smile.

oOo

Finally alone, I quickly lock the door. I have a few moments of peace ahead of me; it's a chance to relieve my bladder, of course, but more importantly, to see if I can find anything interesting. I don't hold out much hope of finding blades—I imagine wizards have an entire array of shaving spells. On the other hand, they might have potentially toxic potions lying around, or better yet, a medicine cabinet? It would be an unreliable way to die, as the effects of potion combinations are quite unpredictable, but depending on what I find, you never know…
The sink's counter is devoid of any objects, and after a brief hesitation, I open the drawers underneath. I briefly wonder if there might be spells to secure them, but I push the thought aside. At worst, I'll say I was looking for tissues. The first drawer I open is empty, and I begin to wonder if anyone uses this bathroom. In the second, I finally find something: a simple tube of toothpaste accompanied by a toothbrush. It's in the third drawer that I finally strike gold: a can of shaving foam alongside a modern razor with three blades, complete with replacement blades. I'm surprised to find it, but I don't waste time questioning it. I've already lost quite a bit of time. I pocket two replacement blades, and it's a good thing I hurry because I hear hurried footsteps heading my way. I shut the drawer just as someone knocks on the door.
"Vivian? Are you alright?"
It's Arthur, and I can clearly hear the worry in his voice.
"Yes, what's going on?" I ask, playing innocent.
"Grandmother came back a good five minutes ago; I was starting to get worried."
"Everything's fine; I'm still capable of using the loo without drowning!" I say, ironically.
"You know perfectly well that—" I can hear the irritation creeping into my friend's voice and decide not to push his buttons too much. After all, I've already got what I wanted.
"I'm teasing you. I'm done; just let me wash my hands, and I'll be right out."
"Alright," Arthur sighs. "Hurry up."
I don't bother replying and just hope very strongly that he won't think about the blades I might have taken. Maybe he's not even aware of their presence? Actually, I hope no one notices my little theft before I've had the chance to use the blades. I flush the toilet, then turn on the tap to make him believe I'm doing what I said. I hide one of the blades in my shoe and the other in one of my pockets. Then I turn off the tap and rejoin Arthur before he grows impatient.
In the hallway, to avoid Arthur asking questions or having too much time to think, I ask him:
"So, how is having your period perceived in the wizarding world?"
I ask partly out of curiosity, but mostly because, in my experience, bringing up a slightly awkward topic is an effective way to divert attention. It works, as Arthur looks a bit embarrassed before replying:
"Uh, oh, is that what Grandmother meant with all her talk about 'women's matters'?"
I think I might blush a little. What an idiot!
"Well, I'm not really sure. I don't think it's a problem, but people don't really talk about it. I think it's mostly women who discuss it amongst themselves."
"You do know what it is, though, right?"
Arthur seems unable to look me in the eye as he responds, his face turning an interesting shade of red:
"Women bleed every month; it's part of their cycle, it's… natural?" His statement sounds more like a question. He licks his lips before continuing, "I'm sorry, we don't really talk about it much. I mean, Cian said she'd give me a little lesson on it, but we haven't had the chance yet…"
He blushes even more, which I wouldn't have thought possible. Interesting, from a scientific point of view. Luckily for him, we reach the door to the sitting room, and I don't continue the conversation, watching with amusement as he tries to compose himself before entering.

oOo

Our arrival doesn't go unnoticed, but thankfully no one comments. I take my place next to Arthur's grandmother, who gives me a knowing smile. Before long, I feel a faint brush at the edge of my mind. I reluctantly open myself to my connection with Ewald, unwilling to let him ask questions or suspect anything, and still annoyed about the whole wand issue.
"What have you done to Arthur?"
I glance at my companion, whose face is still a bit red, and who is ostentatiously avoiding my gaze. I resist the urge to burst out laughing, my worries momentarily dispelled, before answering:
"I just wanted to ask him a few questions about how periods are perceived by wizards."
"Periods? Oh, that explains it!"
I feel Ewald's amusement through our connection.
"How come he knows nothing? Isn't he supposed to be training to become a Healer?"
"I'm afraid that's a topic conveniently left in the shadows at Hogwarts…"
"Why? And how come you're not reacting the same way?"
"I think the teachers like to convince themselves that by avoiding any mention—direct or indirect—of human reproductive functions, they can stop the students from discovering the joys of sex. As for me, let's just say my grandmother didn't want the shame of an ignorant grandson."
I feel his mind shiver at the memory of an embarrassing moment, and I glance at him across the table.
"I don't feel like thinking about it right now, alright? Anyway, thanks for that. I'll be sure to bring it up with him at some point."
"A pleasure."

oOo

The rest of the meal goes smoothly and, thankfully for me, without any additional awkward moments. The grandmothers seem to have shifted their conversation to politics, and I don't even bother trying to follow along. It's completely over my head, and I can't even enjoy the subtle jabs and insinuations they're likely trading.

There's crystal cake for dessert, and I do it full justice—within the bounds of politeness, of course. Ewald can't help but smirk ironically as he watches me help myself to a third serving (gracefully, naturally). Arthur looks delighted to see me eating with such enthusiasm.

Eventually, the meal wraps up as Ewald's grandmother speaks up.
"I want to once again thank you for your hospitality, on behalf of the Easton and Carter-Slide families. Unfortunately, we must take our leave—" at this point, she manages to throw a glance at Arthur's grandmother that makes it clear she's eager to part ways "—as I no longer have the energy of my youth, and the delightful discussions I've had with my dear Anna-Linde have more than sated my thirst for dialogue this evening."
"I wouldn't dare doubt you, Lady Easton, and yet I'm certain you've enough vigour left to outlive us all!" declares Arthur's father with a smile, before continuing, "That said, we ourselves must admit that, despite our relative youth, we'd welcome a bit of rest. Thank you again for hosting Arthur at your home."
"It's our pleasure," Ewald's mother assures him with a somewhat weary smile.

I suddenly understand the reason for what even I find to be a rather abrupt departure. Ewald's mother has held up remarkably well for someone used to living in seclusion, but it will probably do her good to rest. I can also see why it was Ewald's grandmother who gave the signal to leave. It's likely better for her to appear impolite than to draw attention to her daughter's frailty. I wonder how much it cost her to feign weakness, especially in front of her rival. From what I've seen, she seems very proud… or maybe the slight affront to her nemesis's hospitality isn't a concern for her. Either way, I must admit it suits me just fine—I'm eager to enjoy some peace and quiet again. Plus, I'm not particularly comfortable in this dress. And even though I trust Anna-Linde's spells, I don't like knowing I have my period—it makes me nervous.
I show no sign of my thoughts as I bid Arthur's family farewell as politely as possible. A house-elf brings him his luggage for the time he'll spend with us, and he takes his time saying goodbye to his family. He's not supposed to see them again until he returns to Hogwarts, so it takes a while. Finally, Elwin escorts us back to the Floo room, and we step into the flames one by one to return home. Naturally, Ewald goes through right after me again, just in case I try to make a run for it.
Inside my pocket and under my foot, my new blades lie in wait.

oOo

"It's funny how people suddenly start asking how you're doing and worrying about your mental state the moment they find something out. They knew nothing before, and the only thing that's changed is that they know. And yet, all of a sudden, they want to know how you're feeling, what you're thinking—when before, they wouldn't have asked. And yet, both then and now, I'm still cutting myself, I was raped, and I absolutely despise people sticking their noses into my business."

-Text message sent by Aurore Berger to Quentin Lemage, three months before her death-