Closed Luggage Topped with a Golden Bow Solo

Packing had never been enjoyable.

It was a reminder that once again, things were changing. Another year of counting the days between breaks and events, another year of homework and deadlines, and likely more bad things happening. Bad things always happened. Packing was just a reminder that things had already changed. And while he did not hate Hogwarts, there were definitely a few things he was not looking forward to.

Stairs for one.

So, so many stairs. Always with the stairs…

He fiddled with his wand, eyes wandering from the half-filled school trunk and empty suitcase sprawled open on the floor to the littered paper designs pinned to his wall and half-done projects covering his desk. He hadn’t finished them in time. A sigh.

Honestly, it wasn’t like he’d expected to. There’d just been no way. Especially when he’d ended up focusing on those coats. 1 of said coats, the spring one having been thrown into the mint trunk like the other 2. The final one, the 4th, hung finished against his grandmother's mannequin. The dull green of the hooded capelet like cloak had barely been finished, the only reason it had not too been thrown into the abyss.


Groaning, he flopped back onto the bed, wand rolling against the blankets as he stared at the top of his bed; Kitty happily crawled along the fabric pieces and curtains he’d sewn as makeshift bed curtains for the spider to crawl over. It wasn’t fair. Twisting his head he stared at the desk, hair messily curling in his eyes as he rolled onto his stomach to drag himself off the corner of the bed, hair framing his face as he ducked upside down to peer under his bed, the old mint trunk, covered in stickers and scratches at the corners was like a beacon in the void that made up the bottom of his bed. Fingers curled tightly against the side handle, and he tugged it out into the open with a wheeze as the weight threatened to drag him face first into the floor. He caught himself, one hand pressed against the wood as the other unlatched the first clasp. He couldn’t get it open with one hand. The second latch stuck.

“No.” He whined. It was with great annoyance and grumbling he rolled off his bed, slumping against the floor much like a grumpy child as he forced the trunk open.

Fabric scraps and carefully folded bundles. He pushed thick cotton and silks aside, digging out the tiny tin sewing boxes that held his threads and needles and pushing them onto the bed behind him into the pile of his future hoard. A few ribbons. The embroidery hoop. Only things he could actually use at Hogwarts. The rest would have to stay. It was a bitter thought.

Green fabric slipped between his fingers. The crisp gold of autumn leaves brushing against his hand in bumps of embroidery. It left a dull throb in his chest, dread. Just looking at it was a reminder of all the time wasted on it, it would sit here under his bed gathering dust for weeks. Months. It easily slipped between the rest of the junk, dragging free like water between river rocks as the fabric pooled in his lap. The familiar silver frost of a sleeve flopped free across the edge of the trunk; he couldn’t help but feel called out. A silly thought. But that didn’t make it any less true.

Guilt settled in his chest, curling like a content cat in the sun. Here to stay.

It was…

Not embarrassing. Never embarrassing. But the thought of taking the coats, taking more of the items he'd finished was, well, uncomfortable? The word didn’t fit quite right, like an ill-fitting puzzle piece; there were simply no words he could use to describe the discomfort and dread he felt in equal measures when he thought about taking the coats or leaving them to their fate in the heavy, forgotten trunk that would be left behind once again.

He went to pack it away again-

“Elsi! Dinner!”

“Coming!” He called back. He toyed briefly with shoving it back into the trunk before simply dropping it onto his bed. He’d put the stuff away later.

Hopping down the stairs, Kitty happily took the open door as a bid for freedom into the rest of the house, crawling down the stairs and disappearing around the corner into the kitchen. A familiar groan of despair and the clattering of utensils as Kitty made her presence known to his dad as he worked.

“No, no! No, you’re not getting into the cabinets this time.”

Elsian entered just in time to see his dad slamming one of the cabinets shut with a wave of his wand, glaring down Kitty as she got her little spidery footprints all over the clean glass. Dinner was obviously NOT ready if the way his dad was still cooking was anything to go by.

Damn it. Had he just been tricked into cooking?

He paused by the doorway, suddenly suspicious when his mother walked past him into the kitchen with something large, wrapped in shiny red paper and gold ribbon. Kitty was immediately drawn to it.

She urged him to sit down as she dragged a chair closer before falling into it. “Go on. It is for you Elsi, a little…going away gift.”

He sat, squishing down the childish excitement begging to escape as he began to carefully tear at the paper while Kitty crawled all over it. This was kinda suspicious. He’d never gotten a…going away gift before, what was new about this year?

“This was going to be a Christmas present, but we figured a few months early wouldn’t hurt.” Oh…Oh! It was another sewing machine! A treadle, smaller, not connected to a pedal and table like the one in his room. There was no pedal at all actually…just a wheel. He remembered seeing his grandma use one like it before it broke. “Do you like it?”

How could he not? “I love it!” He messed with the wheel, grinning at how it worked so smoothly.

“Told you he’d like it, worried for nothing.”

“Well, excuse me for being careful.” Annelise stood from her chair, walking closer to lean over her son's side, pointing out how it worked. “I know how frustrating it is for you when you can't bring your workspace with you to school…” She smiled warmly at him as the sounds of his dad finishing up dinner filled the background.

“It’s no muggle sewing machine,” she laughed at the way his nose wrinkled, it was no secret he hated muggle machines and how loud they were, “but it should be small and quiet enough to use at Hogwarts.”

Oh.

“Maybe now you can finish one of those designs pinned to your wall,” his mum teased, carding a hand through his hair as she hugged him against her side. It was nice.

“I already did,” he admitted, grinning at the way Kitty freaked out at the sound of her own steps across the crinkled wrapping paper.

“Oh? What did you finish?” Not the coats. He didn’t want to admit he’d lied about the coat.

Flushing with embarrassment he hid his face against his mother's side as his dad fought with Kitty over the wrapping paper. It was a battle of wills. To clean up the paper or keep playing with it, it was anyone's guess who would win.

“The fish hood,” he admitted, biting back a laugh when Kitty dropped into his lap to sulk. His dad stood triumphant with the wrapping paper. It was so stupid. Like, he’d worked hard on it, it was delightfully shiny and pretty, but it was kinda embarrassing that the fish hood was the only thing his mum would think he’d actually made.

His dad looked delighted by this. “Is it an angular fish?”

“No!” He laughed.

His dad hummed, “I expect you to make me 2.”

“Why?”

“My dear sister needs a taste of her own medicine.”

“Derin!” Annelise glared.

“What! She does!” A disgruntled sigh.

“Elsi, go ahead and pack up your new treadle.” Ohhhh, dad was in trouble. “Then come back down, I want all of us to eat together for your last 2 nights here.”

He nodded, carefully picking up the new treadle. Kitty was happy to crawl back onto the table rather than follow him, much to his father's dismay as she crawled towards the plates he’d begun setting.

Once in his room he put his present on his desk. He felt happy, excited at the thought of being able to bring it with him. Carefully, he would pack it between his school robes and a pillow before closing the lid. The rest of the packing could wait until tomorrow. For now? He had to go downstairs for dinner…and then plan what else he wanted to bring with him. This changed things.

Pausing by the door he looked at the coat on his bed and wondered, through the dread, if maybe it’d be so bad to bring it. Maybe he could figure out if he wanted to keep it or not…and was gathering dust in his school trunk that much different than in a box under his bed?

Hn.

A crash. “KITTY GET DOWN FROM THE PANTRY RIGHT THIS INSTANT.”

Oh no, not again.