the dance of life (reprise) private

Kitty wasn’t a huge crier, but this was a lot, even for her.

Her own graduation ceremony had brought mixed feelings with it. She was happy, sure; she had wanted to get out of America for a while now, and she was excited for the road ahead. No longer would summers beckon her back to the suffocating interiors of her parents’ suffocating South Carolina house, and no longer would she be forced to mind her spell usage, lest MACUSA gets on her ass for not being seventeen yet. She had gotten into a good program in an Italian university, to boot; things were looking good for her.

On the other hand, the occasion was suffocatingly lonely. She had not felt suffocated in the moment, Kitty remembered — sure, the ceremony was boring, but she had her friends, and there was an afterparty to look forward to — but looking back, that was a feeling that lingered somewhere in the back of her mind. She knew her parents would not be there, and she could not feel surprised at their absence, but that did not mean it was pleasant. Additionally, she was supposed to spend her summer after graduation with Anthonie, which fell apart because of boy problems, for lack of a better word. Kitty had, of course, organised something else for herself: a backpacking trip across Europe. It was just one she went on alone, and only found people to travel with as strangers in hostels, considering not too many of her Ilvermorny friends were leaving the US as well.

Kitty was determined, now, as an adult with far more sense and a better grasp on complicated family dynamics, not to make anyone feel that lonely. And though she had no bundle of joy of her own graduating from Ilvermorny (Merlin forbid that from happening anytime soon, too, considering Kitty’s state), she had a mentee. A boy who she would affectionately call a protege; and a boy, who despite being seven years her junior, she considered a friend. A little cousin or baby brother, of sorts.

Cyrus had sent Kitty a letter during her final year at Ilvermorny: full of enthusiasm and the worst handwriting Kitty had seen in years. He was a newly minted Thunderbird with glitter pens, stickers, and ink constantly staining every letter, and the little duckling very quickly wormed his way into Kitty’s teenage heart, and the hearts of her friend group, being quickly welcomed to hang out with them at lunch. He talked, at first, about how wizards were weird, and broom flying was scary; then, about how he wanted to explore the world, and about the people he met in Scotland, when he followed her advice and went there. And somehow, before Kitty could blink, Cyrus was in his fifth year and still sending her owls: just this time about learning how to drive at Lake Placid and giving himself carbon monoxide poisoning in the process. She gained some early grey hairs that summer.

He was, of course, invited to the ceremony when she graduated from university, and it only made sense that she was invited to his graduation from their shared alma mater. And Kitty wasn’t a huge crier, yeah, but even she started to tear up when she heard his name called out — Cyrus Darsel, in full — along with his house. Thunderbird. The house she also used to be in, and still considered herself a part of; an adventurer’s spirit, or whatever.

The same adventurer’s spirit that led her here, Kitty supposed. Coming back to attend Ilvermorny’s graduation ceremony shouldn’t have been hard, considering she had an invitation to her name; it was, however, hard, considering she was actively trying to tell if she still had a job or not. She knew that Cyrus knew about the accident, but she had left out the administrative nightmare that Gringotts was putting her through: only mentioned the lack of assignments lately, not the frustrating meetings, the heavy atmosphere after her supervisor found out that her wand had been malfunctioning lately. The accident and its consequences still lingered, even when she was supposed to be happy.

Kitty considered leaving the cane behind in London, too; her hip had mostly recovered, after all, and she did not want to worry Cyrus or his aunt. It was his big day, and the attention should be on him. Unfortunately, she still limped slightly without the extra support, and ultimately decided that it looked worse than a cane, and would be the lesser of two attention-hogging evils. Though she usually did not put make-up over her scars, she bothered to, this time; for one, it was still a formal occasion, and she liked the excuse to do some glam. And, well, it helped hide the red swirls across her face.

She had, admittedly, been more stressed about it than she probably should have. She knew Cyrus’ aunt would be there, and though she liked the woman in her own right, there was still a moment of hesitation that came when Kitty looked in her hotel bathroom mirror.

Now, it didn’t matter much. The cane lay forgotten, resting against the seat in front of her, as Kitty’s hands were busy, applauding as hard as she could. She cheered. Perhaps it would have been a little uncouth, maybe embarrassing, even, for a more formal event — that did not matter. Though Kitty usually tried to maintain decorum (far more than she cared during her own teenage years, anyway) she was still incredibly proud, and definitely not above embarrassing Cyrus for it. Either way, she had a feeling he would not mind too much.

Seven years of friendship — and what a run it had been! Full of pride, and joy (and a little bit of embarrassment considering the ache in her hands came from clapping too hard, of all things), she could not have stopped herself from grinning if she tried. Kitty wasn’t a huge crier. She found herself wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.