The house remains true to what Eileen has always known. Big and flowery, lost in the middle of nowhere in a posh country suburb two hours from London by car. The grove of trees at the bottom of the garden is still intact, as if frozen in time. The ivy growth on the façade is perfectly controlled, giving way to magnificent green leafy lines on the white cement. And it's only the outside.
The interior is just as elegant as the rest. In her memories everything seemed so grand, but now that Eileen has grown a bit in the last two years of her recovery, the place appears a little more cramped. The inside of the house was decorated with carpets that were contemporary to their time, simple and coloured in warm hues on the white marbled floor. The staircase opposite the entrance retains its impressive stature as it rises high to the floors above. The few paintings signed by great wizard artists have still not moved from their place, and most of the portraits politely greeted the young Floquet heiress on her return even though Eileen has already forgotten their faces.
It isn't as grand as the Malfoy manor or the Blacks' huge duplex in the heart of London, but it is obvious that the owner of the place is none other than a pure-blood with traditions just as conformist as their peers. But the beauty and extravagance of this house didn't fool Eileen. The atmosphere is nothing like the warmth of the decorations here. She can already feel the coldness of what is supposed to be alive within these walls. The few people she comes across are dull, quiet, concentrated on tasks for which they risked their job. The house elves don't talk to anyone and anyone unfortunate enough to disturb them would immediately be greeted with a look of terror and outrage.
"This is where I leave you, Mademoiselle Floquet. If you need anything, call for us anytime."
She barely has time to thank her that the woman is already out of sight. Talk about a warm welcome... Eileen is left alone in a large corridor with her luggage like a desperate hitchhiker. Great.
The silence is deafening. Morbid. Silence at Hogwarts was far more enjoyable that here despite being a haunted, gigantic old castle in the middle of nowhere. In this house far too big for a handful of people only, it's frigid to the point of becoming frightening.
Her steps echo in a series of small thumbs on the carpet covering the entire hallway of the second floor. She only wishes to meet with her bed and rest in for the rest of vacation.
To hell with that. Until the end of life.
This is without taking into account the sudden stop in front of one of the many doors in the corridor, more ornate than the others, more obvious due to the sturdier wood used as a frame.
She wavers a bit, feeling her heart growing heavier each time a second goes by. Letting a breath out, Eileen knocks. Three times. Three distinct hits which knock directly into her inside bones. No answers is given, but none are needed. She grabs the handle and opens the door.
The bedroom hasn't changed much either. Spacious, cleaned to the very last grain of dust and smelling of chemical mixtures that instantly attack Eileen's nose without warning. The windows are all obstructed by thick, velvet curtains that reach the floor, bathing the room in the dark except for one windows where the curtains are half drawn. In front of it sits a woman in a rocking chair. She stays unmoving as the chair doesn't swing, while she seems focused on the far background behind the glass.
Eileen approaches slowly with careful steps and stops in the middle of the room.
"Good evening Mother. I am back from Hogwarts and well. I hope your health has been better while I was away."
The stretching silence is not surprising for Eileen who is now used to it. Never in her new life has Marilyn Floquet (née Redshire) spoken to her once. Most of the reasons lay in the taking of calming potions her mother drinks more times than she should, but everyone is intent to let her be since it was the only way to prevent any recession that would put the whole house in chaos. Even as cold-hearted as Eileen may appear, she had first thought the treatment given to that woman inhuman–
Until she witnessed the reason why putting her under a state of constant lethargy with her mind heavily clouded by dozen of unknown potions had proved to be logical.
The one time Eileen witnessed Lady Floquet's breakdown, it has been utterly terrific.
The rage in that woman's eyes. Those thrilling screams that could be heard throughout the house as everything flew and shattered on her path. And the hatred... The hatred with which her so-called mother glared at her like she wanted to make her suffer. Like Lady Floquet wanted to murder her on the spot without any awareness of what she would be doing.
The other reason she wouldn't talk to her own child is simple. Lady Floquet hated Eileen since she birthed her. She loathes her own progeniture since Eileen came out as a girl. Since she had miscarried twice after that. Because that was her fault if Lord Floquet didn't look at her anymore afterwards, her fault that the man she made the effort to fall in love with despite the marriage she had been forced to accept found her to be impotent, unable to get pregnant again as Eileen and her bothersome existence rendered her fragile in turn.
That's Eileen fault Lady Floquet has become
useless, unworthy of Lord Floquet's attention. Not only Eileen was born a girl, but she was born weak. Barely breathing and fragile most of her miserable life. Now Marylin, even though coming from a rich half-blood family can't produce an heir for her husband.
Eileen doesn't want to be affected by this. Everytime she returns back "home", she forces herself to pretend being fine with it, to remind herself it's not even her real mother. That soon, she would leave that hellish place and finally be somewhere else she could belong to. But in spite of all the efforts she gathers not to be bothered by the familial crisis, she is unable to escape it.
She can't escape the hatred. The omnious atmosphere that keeps choking her everytime she has no choice but come back again. It's so suffocating sometimes that it makes her wish to disappear. How did the real Eileen cope with it when the fake one can't even stand it herself? She must have been desperate, alone in this big cold house. Broken, even. No family to hold on to at home. No friend to get support from at Hogwarts. She too, like Eileen Floquet right now, didn't belong anywhere.
No wonder in the last moment of her miserable life she simply decided to lie down and wait for Death to take her away.
"... I will let you rest now. Goodbye Mother."
Mother... even the word sounds so unfamiliar on her lips. Eileen lightly steps back to the door and finally leaves the gloomy room. Just before shutting it close, she sees the swing of the wooden chair gently rocking as though the time that has looked frozen until now started again.
It's always difficult to adapt to the first night every time she's forced to get used to the place again. Between disturbing dreams, the fear of her Mother barging in to finish her off, and the anxiety of what her father wanted to talk to her about, there is absolutely no chance of respite. That is a lot to endure for less than twenty hours after the sweet, golden days at Hogwarts. The feeling of anguish lasts until dawn.
As soon as the sun rises up through the line of the closed curtains, everything clears up instantly as though none of her worries has ever saw light.
Eileen Floquet is back to what she has always been. Bored, carefree and feeling nothing other than her own trepidation to the idea of laying in bed all day for two months starting from now. Lord Floquet has yet to make an appearance, and while the man takes his lovely time with what he planned to do about her, Eileen decides to begin her magical lessons.
Those not taught yet or not at all in their curriculum. She would not be learning everything of course, her brain lacking what most of people should be in possession with to succeed in life: patience and focus. Still, she is far from being stupid. She is quite the fast learner and that's what led her to attend her fourth year despite her long abence before– Screw that. Despite not being a witch to begin with.
Luckily, she seems doted with natural talent when it comes to throw spells. It's to believe her intents surpass the necessity of wand movements or spelling. She only had to fill the holes in theorical subjects, but alas, she has never been the most studious student at school, not even in her previous life. That's why giving up on the most complicated subjects while focusing on the hundred percents success of her fields of predilection is what made her so sure of passing the exams unnoticed until the end of school.
That is, before Riddle came up and messed everything she had planned up. He is a fucking great teacher, alright. But Eileen couldn't care less of when the territorial convention of the giants of Central Europe has been abolished. Or which Japanese ruler declared the end of bamboo wands because of their instability of power due to the much too light material. Like she doesn't care about which formula is needed to flawlessly brew the elixir of gleaming nails. Fuck that one, by the way. Two months of brewing just to see some nails shining in the dark and to get a Troll because she added female hedgehog spines instead of male's? Outrageous.
That is why during the current temporary freedom she got from basic studies, Eileen intents on teaching herself how to use Occlumency.
... Yeah, it might seem a little too presumptuous to learn it now when Eileen hasn't even half of the theorical curriculum covered yet, and only two months to succeed by her own. But she has to.
She pathetically failed to remain neutral in front of Riddle last time he peeled off all of her secrets right at her face. She's felt the way he pryied into her emotions just to see her squirm and become even more angry. Dumbledore could do the same. God forbids Gellert Grindelwald would do something similar if their path came to coincidentally cross. She can't reveal what she knows to anyone that easily. It would be far too dangerous for herself as well as the entire world. She needed to protect her mind and thoughts. To protect her secrets.
And at the same time, it would be quite useful if she could learn to cast a Patronus.
... Is that maybe too overconfident?
Oh, well. It'd surely be worth the try anyway.
It is only after the fifth day of her return that David Floquet deigned to come back, at last. Eileen was daydreaming on her chair, head tilted back, balancing a fountain pen between her upper lip and nose when a servant knocked and opened the door to announce Lord Floquet was waiting for her in the parlour.
It was kind of funny to see the maid's reaction to Eileen's vulgar posture in her mid-sentence. The news of Lord Floquet who have returned, although terrible, allowed Eileen to take a break from her thorough research about Occlumency. God, it was so hard to take a grasp of the concept of mind despite it being the first part of every book. Minds are decidedly more complicated than maths.
Where calculus and formulas are made on solid basis, the mind is more founded on the abstraction of the mechanics of thought. No one can concretely develop the workings of a mind that cannot resemble any other. The mind is a general term that defines the central part of the brain and its functions. People need images, words and shapes, whether concrete or not, in order to perpetuate the cogs and wheels that run endlessly through their minds. It is impossible to stop thoughts flowing into one's brain just as people can't really read what others are saying or thinking within their heads, unless you're an exceptionally omniscient wizard... or a Master of Legilimency.
The last part is what made her shiver while reading. Because Tom Marvollo Riddle alias Voldemort will be known to be one of the greatest accomplished Legilimens of all times in the future. She has to learn Occlumency as soon as possible before he can reach an average level.
"This way," the servant presses when Eileen becomes too slow, drowned in thoughts.
They arrive at the parlour quicker than wanted. Looking down at herself, Eileen is glad not to have stayed in loosen clothes like she usually does. Today, the slytherin girl is dressed in a charming cotton dress of light brown colour and short-sleeved. Her hair are not brushed but they doesn't stand messily on top of her head so it's fine. The maid's look seems to say otherwise though.
The latter gently knocks and waits for a reply before opening the door.
"Lord Floquet, Mademoiselle Floquet is here."
"Thank you Laura."
That deep voice is enough to make Eileen uncomfortable when she hasn't even entered the room yet. She hasn't missed it at all. That condescending, false-concerned tone of his. His appearance hasn't changed one bit over the year. Still the same matured-looking man with all his brown hair in place, not one strand missing on the temples lines yet. His eyes remain as dark as his heart must be, piercing her soul like the devil himself. The new Eileen isn't afraid of this man she sees for the third times in her entire life. She only feels anxious whenever he is near because she can never figure what he is thinking.
The way he likes to control everything he thinks he owns is quite frightening too. Nothing happens without his notice in the house. No one moves without him not knowing. Whatever occurs in there, it does because Lord Floquet wants to. He has a say in everything and that includes his abandoned daughter's activities. She still remembers how harshly she had been scolded by the gardener when she asked to fly on a broom to get fresh air last year. 'The Master strictly forbade it because of your condition, young lady! You should be grateful he is thinking about your health!'
Ha.
"Greetings, Father," she says politely with a gracious bow. "Welcome back, I hope you have been doing well."
She wants to gag so much.
"Look at you... seeming so fine today when you looked like a corpse not long ago."
Wow. Is that his idea of a happy reunion? Upon rising her waist back, she finally takes notice of another man sitting opposite to her father, looking curiously at her. Eileen frowns immediately. Something is off with the guy... but impossible to put her finger on it.
"Thank you, Father. And... this is...?"
"Aaron Regmond," the man introduces himself as he automatically goes for her hand to kiss it. "A real pleasure to meet you, Miss Floquet."
She doesn't like his presence here.
"So, dear daughter of mine. Are you fully cured like the servants proclaimed last time I asked about you? I couldn't believe it at first, but as there has been no incident involving you at Hogwarts all this time, and seeing you looking more than good right now... I must say I am impressed."
So, it took two whole years for her father to believe his own child really wasn't dying anymore and suddenly take interest in her. Oh God, what more did the real Eileen have gone through all this time...?
She forces herself not to show any emotions.
"As you can see, I am in great health and not suffering of any after-effect. My life is now peaceful and slowly reconstructing with all the things I missed."
"That's good to hear," he approves calmly. "How do you fair at school? How are your grades? Are you recovering in your studies as well?"
"Er..."
That's a subject she hasn't prepared to discuss before coming here.
"Let's say that I'm... taking tutoring lessons to catch up with some classes."
At that, Lord Floquet's eyes narrow. "Which classes?"
She can't really lie here. "Mostly Potions, Astronomy, History of Magic...?"
The narrowing goes even sharper. Eileen is quick to arrange the menacing situation.
"But only in theory! I mean, I got high scores in practice. I think. We are to receive our OWLs results tomorrow morning."
However, it is not what the Floquet patriarch wants to hear, given the intimidating gaze he fixes upon Eileen, burried in thoughts. Okay, so having a daughter in good condition isn't enough. Apparently, she is to top every subject as though she became a kind of genius over her recovery. It's almost funny.
"If I may, Lord Floquet."
Both gazes turn to the guest they almost forgot during the tense exchange.
"I know some of the best professors in Britain, even further. I, myself, used to give lessons to the most purer blood before founding my own company. I can be of use if all she needs is a helping hand."
Who asked for your opinion? is what Eileen swallows immediately before she messes up the little, oh so affectionate reunion.
"That would be very kind of you, Aaron."
"Father, I can manage on my own. I am doing better and better, I just need more time–"
"We don't have time, dear. My beautiful girl has to be smart as soon as possible or I will be losing face at the eyes of the wizarding society."
"What?"
He sighs deeply, conveying what he is about to say like a man tired of living.
"You see, Eileen. Now that your are well, you can finally rise up among the wizarding community like a normal girl. No more reclusion in your bedroom for months. No more embarrassment when people ask how my wife and daughter are faring. No more decline within House Floquet, because now is time for change. We need the glory we had before. That's why I began to search for fitting suitors you can marry off to as soon as I deem you ready."
"... WHAT?"
First taken aback by the sudden outburst, David clicks his tongue. "Your attitude, child."
But Eileen is having none of that crap. She certainly hasn't heard that right. She's had a vague idea of what David would want to talk about to be honest, but she has never thought he would have already planned that much ahead.
"Father. Surely you didn't–"
"Don't start arguing with me," he cuts sharply. "You will have to marry one day or another. Better be done with this quickly."
"I can't marry!"
She doesn't want to. There is no way he could force her to.
"You can, and you will."
She is trembling with rage. Eileen didn't foresee that. She hadn't thought for one second that egoist, ruthless prat posing as her father with goodwill would want to sell her daughter off as soon as she recovered from an illness he didn't even give a damn about. She takes a deep breath, chanelling her frustration to appear calmer. Spitting in his face wouldn't do Eileen any good, alright. She has to take a soother approach.
"Father," she begins, "Do you really want this when we're not even sure I'm going to be healthy in the long run? I can't be a bother for my future husband. What if he wants a baby?"
"What if he does?" David drawls, as though nurturing her hopes in a faked fatherly way.
She tries her best not to glare. "I can't be pregnant. My body isn't strong enough yet," she lies. "I have high probability of miscarriage."
"So?"
The nerve of this man...!
"So, don't sell me off to the first wealthy old pervert you meet, Father. Please. I need to finish my schooling. I need to live like a normal girl at least until the end of Hogwarts."
Because she would be at the other side of the world by then. She is ready to beg on her four to get David Floquet to change his mind. There is a strange glint that passes through the patriarch's eyes while he stares at Eileen in the uncomfrotable silence. She can't describe it, but it's like David is trying to solve a puzzle he hadn't taken notice of before. Has she said too much?
"You are worrying over futile things. I don't need you to bear a child right now. It can wait."
Oh, for the love of–
"Of course, you will still have the task of producing an heir when the time comes. As for your studies, I don't intend to marry you off before you get your NEWTs. A member of the Floquet House has to be proud with a minimum of intelligence after all, so no. Thus the reason I have decided that you are going to be engaged the day of your sixteen birthday."
She'd almost seen that coming. Almost. The outrage she feels right now can't be contained anymore.
"Father...!"
"Enough!" he shouts, making her flinch on the spot. "What is wrong with you, Eileen? What is that childish attitude you have all of sudden? Where is my obedient, quiet girl you've always been? Did your recovery make you grow a backbone? I dont' understand."
Eileen bits into her lips, refusing to show any weakness in front of this man and his mysterious guest. She wants to leave this room so bad, run up to her room and slam the door to the point of making the walls quake.
With another sigh, Lord Floquet addresses his guest again.
"I apologize for the deplorable spectacle, Aaron. This was not how I wanted to introduce you two."
Eileen frowns. What now...?
"Please don't apologize, Lord Floquet. At least I can see that you haven't lied about young Eileen's miraculous recovery. She's grown so fine and healthy... I'm quite amazed."
"Still, I thought she had more manners than that. I promise to reeducate her thoroughly before officially offering her to you."
...What was that?
Sharply, Eileen looks up to the guest and finally take in more details about his face. The cold smile that grows on his lips when their eyes meet instantly makes her freeze from inside. Realizing what the whole thing was about then, she instinctively takes a step back.
"I am glad not to be a wealthy old pervert like you mentioned, Miss Floquet. I'm still quite young after all."
No way.
"I am looking forward to knowing you more. You seem lively enough, it will be truly refreshing to have you around, I'm sure."
"You..."
She can't say anything. She has literally no word to express how repulsed she feels right now.
"I will have to teach her some manners before then, Aaron. I can't have a little savage tarnish a noble man's reputation."
"There's no problem at all," Regmond replies with a disgusting expression. He looks back at Eileen. "I like them fierce."
Eileen stomps into her bedroom in fury.
So that was why that prick of a father seemed so awfully kind in the letter. He was interested in her newly good health just so he could sell her off like a freaking item of value! Not even asking about his wife, not even apologizing for all the years of neglect. No, just an apology for his daughter's indignation because Eileen, a not-even-sixteen-years-old teenager, do not wish to marry a man whose age could easily match her own father's. How can he do that? To decide for someone else's future like a chess player moving their pawns at will?
And Aaron Regmond... She knew there was something off with the guy. The way he looked at her starting from the moment she's set foot in the parlour, he has been staring like a calculating degenerate creep. And that man almost three times her age is to become her husband by the end of Eileen's education.
...
OK. Change of plans. Riddle and his future career of world dominating mass murderer can wait. She has to find a way out the engagement before her sixteenth birthday. That is, at the beginning of January. Six months away from now.
She immediately grabs a quill and a blank paper to write down every idea she can think of.
"To get ill again."
She could fake another illness that would continuously postpone the engagement until she is safe enough to run away without a word. The problem is, now that David Floquet has a use for his neglected daughter, he wouldn't let something like that happen again. Her desperate father could summon a doctor to check the symptoms and then figure out the trickery. He wouldn't hesitate to marry her off the next day just to punish her.
What if she can find a special potion to literally get ill then? It must exist, she is sure of it. The only thing to do is to find a black market that would sell her what she needs. Knockturn alley maybe? What a joke. How could Eileen go there without being noticed and without knowing any apparating area to Diagon Alley? Fuck that. Why the hell the Weasley twins don't exist yet when she needs them most?!
Okay, second suggestion.
"Running away while being at Hogwarts."
A very bad idea. Because then, she would have to drop out without getting any NEWTs. The pros are that Eileen would be able to escape easily if well prepared. The cons, however... She is still an unerdage witch stuck with the Trace until she turns seventeen. She would not be able to perform any magic as long as she was not surrounded by magical people. Meaning it would be near to impossible to go unnoticed if her face was posted everywhere in wanted ads.
"Third solution: marry someone else."
...Yeah. One of the worst idea ever. Not only because in noble magical family one needs the approval of the leading figure, but also she would need to remain chained to a person for the rest of her life.
Even if she elopes and ends up disowned of any legacy, she doesn't want to fake a marriage and live poorly until the end of time. Except... if she finds someone rich enough who would agree with faking everything until the end. Yeah, that could work. Now she only requires the perfect candidate.
"And lastly..."
Her wrist stops writing abruptly. She frowns, face shadowed by the angle of the candle light.
"... Death."
If Aaron died, there would be no engagement. No marriage, no need for escape plan. David Floquet would have to try harder to find someone else that would be interested in an immature, unstable girl without renown.
Eileen tightens her fist, nearly breaking the quill. Still... she would have to kill a man. Just thinking about it so seriously makes her sick. The act of taking a life shouldn't be done lightly. This is a serious crime that could bring anyone to Azkaban in a matter of second, and something that engraves itself in the depth of one's mind forever. Would Eileen bear the sin her whole life?
Perhaps... she could hire someone to do it.
...
"Aaah, fuck it."
She doesn't want to think about it for the night. Leaving her notes and everything else on the desk, Eileen stretches until her bones crack loudly and jumps to bed. There are so many things racing through her head like a whirlewind of images and faces and thoughts flying in chaos.
Summer has just begun but Eileen feels like cracking her skull open against a wall already. Maybe that was the solution. Dying.
Leaving this crazy world and joining the afterlife for good. No more travelling through dimensions shit. No more resurrection. No more having to fight for survival, and no more good or bad choices. Is it truthfully too much to ask?
This is with these last thoughts Eileen let her soul be dragged in a dreamless sleep.