Tea is for Pre-Teens PV Eris Fawley Closed

Eris Fawley’s birthday had been a torrid affair, forgotten by her grandfather and father. When Eris had reminded her father of the impending date, and pleaded for a birthday party with her friends, the man had shut his eyes and started to rock back and forth. After more prodding from his daughter, Luca Fawley to scream and cry about how he never wanted a child. This lead to the worst birthday in the history of birthdays, only made better by the letters full of candies and toys from her friends and the comic books sent in from America and her Grandmother’s promises to return home safely, with goodies.

Of course, Demetra was now safely returned, and another letter had came through the mail, halting the inevitable discussion about the breakdown of Luca and the venomous rage that Adrian was dying to let out, nearly trembling with rage in the presence of his granddaughter. The letter was glorious, reminding Eris that people did care for her, and that the world wasn’t too terrible a place. Even in pureblood society, there was such thing as kindness and birthday parties, so Eris had immediately accepted the invitation from the girl, even though she was a hufflepuff with a multitude of middle names, apparently. Demetra had agreed to go at once, hoping to make up for her absence with a Garden Party, and the older woman knew of Eris’s temper and prayed to put a stop to any misconduct that Eris would get herself into.

The day rolled around, and the two Fawley woman woke themselves up early, with the attempted help of their assigned houselves. Nym, Eris’s beloved elf, had ended up being forced to don makeup that should have been put on Eris’s own face. Yet, the poor elf could not help but feel bad for the child. Eris had been desolate for the past few days, and the idea of going to a tea party only cheered her up marginally. The idea of turning her house elf into a beauty queen? That cheered her up. Nym had been subjected to a splattering of blush and lipstick, before the elf had grown tired of Eris’s play and warned her mistress that it was time to get ready.

Dangling her feet, trying to straighten them out and let them touch the floor, Eris bit the bottom of her lip in concerned concentration. Her feet would not touch the ground, and try as she might, Eris could not will herself to grow taller, partly because she simply did not want to. For all her joking and glowering, Eris found that she was proud of her height, and how it set her apart. She only wished that she was able to climb up the stairs faster and that she didn’t look like a first year. Oh well, there were pros and cons to most everything.

Eris’s hair changed colors, flashing between purple, green, and blue, as Nym laid dresses out on the bed. “Nym has picked dresses for Miss Fawley, Miss Fawley must select one.”

Eris stood up, letting her hair stay stuck in an orange hue, similar to a sunset, and rather close to her natural color. All three dresses were pink but varied in size and shape, yet all were distinctly ladylike. The dress that Eris selected was puffy in nature, embroidered with the most beautiful flowers the child had ever seen. The flowers were not your average ironed on flowers, rather they grew out of the bottom of dress and swayed whenever they were hit by the wind, which was one of the benefits of having a magical tailor at your disposal.

Eris allowed Nym to help her pull on the thing, wincing as it tightened around her waist, before being directed back to her red vanity. Huffing, the girl continued her vain attempts at pushing her feet down to the earth, before Nym snapped to attention, spine straightening. At once, Eris’s face swiveled to stare at her grandfather, messy tendrils of hair spilling over her unwashed face, still smudged with dirt and whatnot that had remarkably not gotten on the white frills of her tea dress. Adrian Fawley stood, leaning on the red and gold framed doorway of Eris’s room, scowling at the moving pictures on the wall.

Eris, instead, smiled fondly at the photos. There was one of her, Dorian, and Max proudly smirking in the Gryffindor Common Room next to a photo of all of Eris’s friends on the Hogwarts Express on their last day of school, which was what her father was currently scowling at in his tailored shirt, before turning his gaze back to his daughter.

“Mudbloods, half bloods, and delinquents. That’s who you chose to hang out with, Eris.” The very letters of her name were drawn out, as he walked towards the vanity and took her shoulders in his hands, squeezing tightly. At first, it was a light touch, a fatherly touch of affection, but he kept pushing on her shoulders until it nearly throbbed.

Eris had fought him the first times he had snapped at her, but the girl had long since learned to sit still through these moments. The grip tightened even more, as Adrian’s nails started to dig into her shoulders. Nym and Eris were both silent, as the man let out a sigh, nails digging tender pinpricks into Eris’s shoulders.

“This tea party will be an excellent way to prove that you have some standards. If I hear anything about you bitching about how your birthday was forgotten and rest assured, I will hear, I will have you kicked out of Hogwarts and far away from your pathetic friends before you can say galleon. Is that understood?”

Eris’s anger bubbled, and her shoulders would have shaken, if not held tightly by his hands. She attempted to turn around, to scream, but felt a weight pressing down on her mouth, reminding her that he was not kidding. She couldn’t speak as her temper exploded in waves, and it was a force of extreme control to pull herself away from the situation, as Eris closed her eyes and imagined her ‘pathetic’ friends.

I am not weak, I am not a pureblood, I am not weak, I am not a pureblood. It was common to chant that in Eris’s mind during these moments, as she pretended in a different world, where life wasn’t based on your birthright, and she had beat the masked man and pleased her whole family. The real world faded away, until she was calm enough to open her eyes and calm enough not to struggle against his words and his hands.

“Yes grandfather, I won’t let you down.”

“Oh Eris, you’ve already let me down by hanging out with a pack of mongrels, but what else did I expect from a child as troubled as yourself? I suppose you’re okay, but I do wish I hadn’t gotten a heathen for a granddaughter. I must leave, but I beg of you child, at least attempt to be a good guest today.”

Eris swallowed, looking down at her feet, as he left the room and left Nym and Eris alone. There was a quiet spreading over the room, as if the world itself didn’t dare to breathe after Adrian’s words, but Nym went about doing Eris’s hair, until finally loosening a breath of air.

“Nym would like to know what hair color Miss Eris wants today.”

For a moment, Eris was consumed with such hatred that she could hardly speak. She hated the elf for acting like nothing was wrong, she hated her grandfather for his words, she hated everything. Eris was silent for a moment, brewing in hatred that would surely resurface and lead to hurt hufflepuffs at school, before opening her mouth and burrowing the hatred down deep, just like all purebloods were supposed to do at home, until they could take it out at school.

Looking down at her dress, Eris exhaled another breath. She was rather bored of the dull shade of pink that she often preferred as a hair color, but there wasn’t much else that fit with the dress. Furrowing her brow, Eris’s eyes latched onto one of the green stems of the flowers. Closing her eyes, Eris imagined that color on her head, and when she opened them, her hair was a vibrant shade of green. Eris frowned at the image, making her hair longer and adding pink to the ends of it.

“Green, Nym. I’d like green and green.” She replied simply, shoulders aching, as the house elf started to plait the hair. They both sat in silence, conversation seemingly impossible after Adrian’s words. Eris’s eyes stared at her own pale reflection, studying the lines of her pale face and drawn features, forcing her expression to tighten. She no longer recognized the person staring back at her, the prim and proper lady was not Eris. It would never be Eris, but for today, she would don the mask of a good pureblood girl. Just a few days longer, then she could return to Hogwarts and leave the blasted manor behind for another year. The last touch of the outfit was a pale pink sun hat, that drooped over Eris’s eyes and obscured her vision.

Eris didn’t smile as Nym finished, but when Nym took Eris by the arm, Eris gritted her teeth and prepared for the familiar feeling of sickness, as she prepared for the world to tilt, but Nym firmly hugged her inside.

“Nym does not think m-Eris is a disgrace to this family. Nym thinks that Mistress Fawley is a very good person and that her friends are good as well.” The elf squeaked letting go of Eris’s arm, as the door opened and a jetlagged Demetra Fawley scooped up Eris into a large hug.

Demetra was, by no means, a tall woman. She was around 5’7, but that was if one was being generous, but she was tall enough to swing her granddaughter up into the air and wrinkle both of their dresses. The jetlagged woman beamed, and Eris’s thoughts of sadness and anger were gone, as she wrapped her arms around her grandmother, before Demetra dropped her down and embraced the house-elf, acting like this was a perfectly normal thing to do.

When she was done, Demetra took Eris’s hand in her own larger hands, and spun her granddaughter around. “Oh darling! You look lovely, god forgive me for not being here for your birthday. I’m so sorry today will be spent on something as horrible as a tea party, but afterwards we can go shopping for your back to school supplies and get you a little something,’ She pinched Eris’s cheeks, beaming, “extra.” She added in a conspirater’s whisper, winking widely.

Many of the purebloods of high class society believed in carriages, magic carpets, and other dramatic entrances, but Demetra would have none of the bullshit. She believed in sleeping in as long as possible, which was only achieved with quick methods of travelling like floo powder and apparation, and because both women were in dresses, the only method of travel possible would have to be apparation.

Still, there would be a few minutes before they departed, as Demetra gossiped and chattered. Eris loved her grandmother for her excentrics, which made her stand apart from the other residents of the pureblood world. She was a remind of what life had once been and what it was capable of being.

“It’s okay, nana.” Eris replied, easily forgetting the problems of her horrible birthday, once in the radiant presence of her grandmother. “I’d like that very much. Can I get an owl?” She blurted out, grinning easily.

Demetra laughed, shaking her head, before ruffling her granddaughter’s hair. “If you’re good at the tea party, we shall see.”

Eris felt a rush of happiness, nodding her head, as Demetra sighed, looking at the half moon watch on her wrist. “Oh dear, we do have to go.” She extended her hand, quickly changing conversation topics. Demetra was never one for dwelling, quickly moving from one thing to another.

Eris personally hated the feeling of apparation, the weightlessness but the tight clenching that was a paradox in itself. It was not something she enjoyed, but Eris couldn’t help but smile as she took her grandmother’s hand, tightening her fingers around her grandmother’s thumb, before feeling the familiar light weight emotion, as she closed her eyes.

When Eris opened her eyes, they were standing in front of a darling manor, quaint in mannerisms. Demetra dropped her granddaughter’s hand at once, and Eris sighed. Demetra may have been kind, but she had been a member of pureblood society long enough to know that appearances mattered, and that every mannerism would be documented and thought upon, including Demetra’s love for Eris. If any pureblood with a grudge against the Fawleys found out how dearly the matron of the household loved her granddaughter, it would be one more piece of ammunition to use against the infamous family. So, Demetra kept her love for her granddaughter hidden, and Eris never did understand why her grandmother changed when they were in public and when they were left alone to their own devices, but she felt the change come. She noticed it, as Demetra let go of Eris’s hand and smoothed the skirts of her cream colored dress, hands clinging onto the light fabric. The long waves of the dress fell down towards the ground, and the v-neck at the top was not meant for one of old age, but at 58, Demetra was not a sight for sore eyes. Not with the added magic of metamorphmagus powers and the added benefits of magic. The woman looked lavish in her dress, with blonde hair bunched up into short curls. Eris’s own hair felt out of place in it’s green and pink splendor, but the child was too stubborn, as she felt the absence of her grandmother’s hand.

Demetra stalked forward, kind expression vanished, and the face of a pureblood queen had made it’s way to her features, as she stalked up the stairway to the front door, not paying any heed to her granddaughter. Eris lingered behind in the driveway of the manor, eyes scanning the nearby terrain. She found it less pleasurable than their lovely manor home in the middle of London, but Eris knew that few people would echo that sentiment. There was a certain allure to the countryside, if one wanted to hide from the world in nature, but there was always more pleasure in the endless traffic and humming of city lights to a girl who had grown up with the hustle and bustle of city living and had lived solely off the streets.

Eris’s feet moved forward of their own accord. Once, a lifetime ago, she would have refused to follow her grandmother like a docile doe, but that was before the constant pain of her grandfather’s admonishment, the confusion of her father’s condition, and the bitter bite of her grandmother’s changing personalities. Once, Eris had been brave, but now she felt numb around her family. Maybe things could change at the tea, and she could get lucky enough to punch the Shaqif heiress, Dorothy, or do something that would soothe the hole festering in her stomach, made by her family. It was odd how much hurt one could accumulate over the course of a few months, and how much a personality changed when around different people.

So, Eris marched up towards the door, and resisted the urge to kick and scream. Even so, a faint scowl made it’s way to her lips, as a woman threw open the door in a deranged show of excentrics that Demetra didn’t even bat an eyelash at. Eris had been warned of the Shaqif Mistress, but still had to etch an eyebrow upwards, as the woman’s richly clad clothing penetrated Eris’s eyes, shining through every part of her vision. There was nowhere else to look, because nothing was as shiny and bright. Blinking, Eris rubbed at her eyes, as her grandmother greeted the woman with an air kiss on both cheeks, as was customary for Madame Shaqif’s family. Eris did no such thing, still uncomfortable with the way the air around her face had been kissed at the Fawley Gala.

Demetra’s voice was a drawl, her chin pointed upwards, mouth clad in a coy smile that was undoubtedly meant to scare--not welcome. Still, there was nothing that seemed menacing about her mannerisms, but the underlying note was there. The message scrawled in Demetra’s menacingly fake mannerisms was simple; ‘My family is better than yours, and this arrangement is only to up your social class. Do not forget it.’ The Fawley matron would never say that though, as the whole point of such events was to quietly diminish one another, but never say your true motives out loud, which was yet another reason that Eris Fawley took so badly to pureblood society, preferring to solve problems upfront, whether it be with violence or not.

“Meredith, you look lovely!” Demetra drawled, well aware of the fact that Meredith Shaqif went by Madame Shaqif. Her eyes glinted with a silent challenge, beckoning the woman to waltz with her through the circles of pettiness and cunnery that was pureblood culture. The smile on Demetra’s artfully crafted features grew into a smirk, as her lips curled marginally, as Demetra turned to gesture to her small granddaughter, putting a hand on her back.

The small touch offered none of the comfort that Eris normally knew from her grandmother, but was a reminder to wipe the confusion off her face and introduce herself kindly. “I must say, myself and my granddaughter are overjoyed to be here today. Such a rare display of kindness from one of our kind, but then again, your daughter is a hufflepuff? Alas, this year has been a horrid one for those of pureblood descent. I’ve heard tell that simply none of the children of any leading families are in Slytherin. I do pray that next year will be a better year for our kind’s children, and that our own children will give birth to good little Slytherins, not small timid little hufflepuffs.”

“Yes, unfortunate is it not? I personally wished to private school her in order to avoid such disgrace. Still, I've encouraged her to remind others of her place despite her house, and she's done quite an excellent job. It is certainly hard not to be slightly disappointed with the schools sorting program. Obviously they need to obtain a new hat."

Madame Shaqif’s reply was sugar coated and sickly sweet, so Eris found herself zoning out, as Demetra smiled politely, dipping her head down to hide the proud glint of triumph that spread across her features, but Eris was not one for hatred.

“It’s not that much of a disgrace, Madame. Some of the best people in Hogwarts were Hufflepuffs, Newton Scamander, author of one of the most prized books of today's society, happened to be a hufflepuff.” Eris butted in, feeling a sharp rap on her back, which was the only sign of Demetra’s disapproval. Eris would not have it though. She thought of Serena, Reid, and Rosie and bit back a grin, standing still under her grandmother’s grip.

"Perhaps. But certainly, considering her blood it would me more appropriate if she was placed in slytherin. You do know, I presume, of her mother's heritage. Yes, we were very proud of her. It really is a shame.” There was a pause as the woman clicked her tongue, and Eris blinked, evidently confused. Was the woman proud of her insane daughter? “Quite a shame.” The madame finished, but Eris’s brows had only furrowed.

Sensing her discontent, Demetra removed her hand from Eris’s back and smiled broadly at Meredith. “As always, we’re pressed for time, love. Do you mind leading us to the Garden, so we can chat more, and celebrate the birthday of Eris?”

The Madame would have been stupid to deny such a request, so the two were lead to the gardens, as Demetra chatted up the Shaqif matron, while Eris struggled against her feelings of discontent and rage, studying the landscape of the inner manor. It was far less gloomy and desolate than the Fawley Manor, and one could never tell that a mother of a death eater lived in the house. There were little assumptions that could be made about the house, besides for the fact that the owners were obviously very, very, rich. The wealth gleamed everywhere, showing that the people who owned the house did not play around. It was a lovely sight. Eris could not deny the beauty of the extravagant house, waving merrily to the house elves as they appeared and ducked away. It gave her something to do while the adults conversated, but when they went outside, all thoughts of household servants faded away.

The grander of the gardens was even more delicately beautiful than the inside of the house, and the four tier cake looked breathtaking. So breathtaking that Eris hardly noticed the girl sitting by the cake, as the two adults took their seats next to each other and Eris sighed wistfully, debating eating the entire cake by herself. And ooh! The sandwiches, they looked simply delightful! Eris could hardly wait to shove as many as possible down her throat, but of course, she could do no such thing. She was a pureblood lady, and would be forced to hardly eat anything.

Maybe, perhaps, she could take the cake home with her and eat it in the comfort of her room, with Nym. Eris took her seat, still staring wistfully at the cake, before noticing Dorothy by the cake. Eris blinked once, remembering the girl for being mean to Max, yet, apparently she hadn’t been all that bad. To survive the lock-in was a small feat in itself, and they had teamed up later on.

A tentivate smile could be seen, barely. Eris’s face was still obscured by the large hat, but she fixed Dorothy a smile, sliding the hat upwards to take another wistful glance at the food and the simmering tea, all laid out and ripe for the pickings. Eris knew she would be expected to start a proper conversation, but she could think of little but the cake. Almost, as if reading her mind, Demetra Fawley cast a stern look down at her granddaughter, pointing with the side of her head to Dorothy and frowning. The gesture was simple enough, and Eris knew what her grandmother meant.
She was to talk to Dorothy, or there would be some kind of punishment later on, most likely coming from her grandfather. Eris’s grandmother may have been the best parental figure Eris knew, but she was just as scared of Adrian as Eris. It sometimes seemed that he had a sixth sense for ratting out lies, and Demetra had never experienced this. She was painfully honest to her husband about her granddaughter, if only to cover up more important secrets that he could never find out.

Eris did not know this, rather, she felt that her grandmother would tell her grandfather anything because that was how relationships worked. She was okay with being yelled at, simply because it was how life had been for the past few months. It was how she assumed a real family worked, because her old life was fake. This was real, and this was the only way a family could work, right?

Sighing, Eris nodded her head, hat falling into her eyes again. It took her another second to pull the hat up, and then she opened her mouth to say something to Dorothy. Yet, no words of praise or the weather came out, as Eris let out another wistful sigh.

“That cake looks bloody amazing. It’s almost a crime that we won’t be able to devour the whole thing without listening to the typical pureblood gossip for six hours or so.” Eris didn’t take back her words, simply grinning in a lazy manner, knowing the adults were too busy talking to listen in to the girl’s conversation. She was bored, and deserved some kind of fun conversation. This would be it.

 

[font=EB Garamond]Dorothy fiddled with the flowery belt of her dress, picking off a leaf as she sat waiting.  She sat there like a [/font][font=EB Garamond]stiff[/font][font=EB Garamond] [/font][font=EB Garamond]l[/font][font=EB Garamond]ittle [/font][font=EB Garamond]guilt[/font][font=EB Garamond]y statue, surrounded by the cottony pink of a magical plant.  Her mother had consistently sent her letters throughout the school year, asking about friends, grades, and everyday dramas. Dorothy hadn’t made any friends during her time at Hogwarts, and she knew the Madame wouldn’t appreciate that. She [/font][font=EB Garamond]had [/font][font=EB Garamond]to tell her mother [/font][font=EB Garamond]something[/font][font=EB Garamond].  So, on a desperate whim, Eris became Dorothy’s “friend”.[/font]

[font=EB Garamond]Not really, of course, but her name and description had been used in writing a claim that they were besties.  The Madame had fallen for her false letter hook, line, and sinker.  It had worked pretty well.  Dorothy would make up stories about the fun things she and Eris did, the manner of Eris’s family name, and the adventures they would plan.  But in reality, she didn’t even think Eris liked her.  Now, now the truth would be discovered.  Dorothy was not looking forward to that.  [/font]

[font=EB Garamond]The soft sound of voices and false laughter rustled through the surrounding plants and tickled Dorothy’s ear.  It was the sound of the approaching party conversing politely on their walk to the gardens.  Eris was surely following behind them, probably scowling.  Finally, the bobbing shiny heads of Meredeth Shafiq and Mrs. Fawley appeared over a well-groomed hedge.  Dorothy craned her neck to see if she could spy Eris, but the hedge was too tall and Eris was too short.  The ladies moved sideways to walk down the steps towards the table, and Dorothy was finally able to catch a glimpse of Eris’s expression.  It was one of shock and delight.  Good.[/font]

[font=EB Garamond]Three ladies tripped elegantly down the steps and seated themselves in the arranged manner Shafiq had so meticulously thought out and planned.  Pureblooded families had a linked mindset, it seemed, that enabled them to foresee exactly how the other would set such occasions up.  Madame Shafiq had it, Demetra Fawley had it, Dorothy had it, and Eris… Well, Dorothy didn’t think Eris had it.  Eris was the wildcard, the joker thrown into the mix.  Dorothy secretly held great admiration for that.  Eris would do things her way, not the way anyone else wanted her to.  It was a free way to live.

Dorothy sat up a little straighter as the others sat down, pasting a polite smile onto her tired face.  With the expression she demonstrated, it was almost impossible to notice the little dark bags above her cheeks, or the little red squiggles on the whites if each eye.  Her mother had attempted to put a tan paste under her eyes to disguise the grey marks lack of sleep caused, but this had not completely revived her appearance.  The sleek braids rested by each collarbone and her stormy grey eyes were fixed on Eris in a less-than-subtle expression of high regard.

A mouthwatering scent of light, sweet, buttery cake was blown around the table with another slight breeze.  Mixed with the minty scent of a nearby patch of Lamiaceae, the smell altogether was nearly enough to cause any nearby child to dive headfirst into the delicate cake.  Dorothy and Eris weren’t children today, though.  They were pureblooded princesses, who were to behave in a way fitting for royalty.  The probably wouldn’t get to eat much of the cake at all.  This thought seemed to cross both their minds, as Eris spoke up wistfully.
[/font][font=EB Garamond]
“That cake looks bloody amazing. It’s almost a crime that we won’t be able to devour the whole thing without listening to the typical pureblood gossip for six hours or so.”  Dorothy’s eyes widened slightly as Eris sat back with a lazy smile and pushed back her hat again.  The young Hufflepuff cast a sideways glance towards her stepmother, who was gaudily interpreting the meaning of each child’s sorting, while Demetra nodded with an eyebrow cocked.  Turning her attention back to Eris, she smiled in a small expression of mischief. 

“I don’t think we’ll have to do much of the talking.” She paused, glancing pointedly at her stepmother with a frown. “Anyways, after a while they’ll forget we’re here, and then if you want, we can go somewhere else.  I can show you my room or something. And we can take the cake.” She smiled again, and shrugged before leaning slightly back into her chair. 

Deciding that this wasn’t quite enough to keep both of them amused, she looked around the table for some kind of inspiration.  Luckily, at that very moment a house elf appeared, waddling under the weight of a tray balanced precariously on its round head.  Scarlet liquid splashed against the sides of four pressed glass goblets as the house elf walked towards them. When it reached the table, large hands and scrawny arms placed took a cup off the tray (still on its head) and placed one in front of each of the four ladies.  A small vial of honey was placed near the cake should any of the party wish to sweeten the beverage.  The house elf scampered off without speaking, and Dorothy eyed its vanishing form before moving a hand towards her goblet.

Dorothy smiled and took a dainty sip out of the scarlet liquid before setting the glass down quietly.  She motioned for Eris to do the same.  “It’s called Karkade, a hibiscus tea.  It’s really good after you put honey in it.  Tastes like cranberries.  Try some?” She spoke easily, and rubbed the stem of her goblet between her fingers lazily.  A slight nudge shifted her chair suddenly, and Dorothy glanced over at her stepmother to see her nod slightly. “Keep going” she was silently saying.  “Don’t mess up.” Dorothy gathered.

She wasn’t planning on it, though one could never tell how things would go when Eris was involved.  Somehow, she would get them both away from their guardians.  Somehow, this would end up being fun. 
[/font]

[font=EB Garamond]Tea Party’s should always be fun. [/font]

Eris had her own friends, and many of them. The only times Dorothy had crossed her mind were when she had berated Max, and once again when she had been stuck in the tunnels of whatever hellish mindscape the lock-in had turned into. These two thoughts were the only ones that had ever darted into Eris’s head about Dorothy, and truthfully, Eris’s show of outrage and bitterness towards Dorothy at the Lock in had long since faded from Eris’s mind, residing in the back of her mind. It was impossible to linger on something that Eris could hardly remember, only in flashes that were obscured by the trauma of the night, so Eris studied Dorothy with the cleanest slate she could muster, considering the situation that had unfolded itself in front of them.

To the left of the girls, Demetra Fawley lifted a brow in an artful fashion. It seemed that she was also studying the girls, in the same manner that the Shaqif woman was. The only thing that proved that Demetra cared more, in a fashion far less sinister and far more motherly, was the furrowing of her brows and the light sigh that emitted from her lips, before Demetra pressed a glass of wine to her lips, undoubtedly having snapped at a House elf to bring it to her. The woman prefered wine to tea, or any other drink when in the company of her own kind.

Eris, meanwhile, couldn’t help but flash a smile back at Dorothy. She was trained in the manners of a typical pureblood, but was far from one. Eris Fawley was nothing if not unusual. In the muggle world, she was the strange girl with the migraines and hunger for anything that wasn’t normal. With a groan, Eris flung off her hat, which narrowly avoided hitting a house elf in the head. She leaned back in the chair, praying that the adults hadn’t seen the hat fall, but couldn’t help but grin at the feeling of freedom that accompanied losing the horribly large hat slid off her head.

Eris was able to think much clearer when the hat was off her head, and shaking out the curls of her pink and green hair, forced a conspirators smile onto her face, which was woefully clean of makeup. Eris had refused to put any makeup on, but after a quick study of Dorothy's own makeup and Dorothy's mother, held up a finger. "One minute, I'll answer you in a second...I just feel," her face contorted in effort, as Eris's makeup free face had lipstick and the faintest trace of red eyeshadow, along with winged eyeliner. Evidently, Eris knew little about makeup, and the only things she did know were from her movies. She now looked like an overdressed teenager heading out to a party.

"Under-dressed. Do I look okay?" Eris pestered, "Not like I really care, to be honest." Letting a sigh loose itself from her lips, Eris's brow furrowed again as she attempted to think of what Dorothy had said earlier.

Right, the cake and sneaking away to get it. Folding a strand of hair behind her ears, Eris nodded her head. "I suppose sneaking off would be fun. It might be harder than usual, to tell the truth. Normally the adults aren't so close by, but we can always make the house elves pretend to be us. I'm just about as short as them, anyways."

Eris could hardly stay still, neck craning around to study all of the foliage around her. There was a delicate swirling mix of scents that tugged at Eris's nose, almost making her sneeze. It wasn't a horrible mix of scents, it was quite the contrary. All of the scents of the exotic flowers blended together, along with the buttercream of the cake and the wafting scent of tea. When had the tea gotten there? Eris blinked, looking down as a house elf scampered up.

"Oh hello!" Eris started brightly, only to feel a sharp pain in her forearm and then a large sigh from her grandmother. "Eris, darling, what have I said about talking to those below us?" Her grandmother shook her head, before turning to Madame Shaqif. "Eris, bless her soul, thinks that she can get away with pestering the house elves in plain sight. Not a Slytherin bone in her body, dumb child. The rest of us know to wait until after hours to bully the elves, but Eris is just as dumb and forward as her mother."

Eris's eyes prickled with tears, as her grandmother removed her painful grasp from Eris's shoulder. Forcing a smile onto her face, Eris poured some of the honey into her tea and stirred it, relishing the warmth of the tea. She said nothing for a moment, face burning.

"I've never been one for tea." Eris finally said, eyes still watering, as she put the tea back down on the table. "It reminds me of my mum. She always had quite the thing for tea, and I'm not like my mum, regardless of what my grandmother may think. I'm not like my mother in the slightest".

The Lock in seemed so far away.  Sometimes it truly did seem like a nightmare that had never actually occurred.  Often, this was not the case.  The Lock in had been Dorothy’s first real awakening to the fact that she would need friends.  Allies were important in a school that often knowingly endangered its students.  During the terrible underground night of the lock in, Dorothy had teamed up with Max, Eris, and Dorian.  They hadn’t wanted her there and didn’t bother attempting to hide it, but Dorothy couldn’t help but envy their tight bonds.  All three were close, really close, and she wanted in.  However, she probably wouldn’t be able to break through that friend group.

Maybe she could just be friends with Eris.  Dorothy studied the girl with curious eyes, brushing a wisp of loose hair behind her ear.  Dorothy’s hair had a tendency to escape from even the tightest of braids and hang in loose strands beside her face.  Her Grampy would joke that her hair had a mind of its own.  She believed him, mostly because she found it impossible not to.  Dorothy loved her Grampy Atticus too much to doubt him.

It was interesting, how pureblooded relatives worked.  Dorothy had already decided she wouldn’t like Demetra Fawley.  The manner in which the lady pursed her lips and turned up her nose disturbed her greatly.  Then again, most pureblood ladies behaved in this manner.  Maybe Dorothy would too, when she was old.  What an unpleasant thought!

Eris had taken off the hat.  Good! It was nearly impossible to see her face when she was wearing it.  Dorothy wondered if Eris’s grandmother had forced her to put it on.  Her stepmother had made her wear a horrid necklace of large, fluffy, roses that scratched her neck terribly.  Dorothy had snuck it off before coming downstairs, but little pink lines on her neck marked its earlier position. 

Now that her hat was off, Dorothy studied Eris’s face.  She was pretty.  Her skin was freckled and rosy, and her hair was bright and cheery.  It’s color wasn’t natural, and Dorothy wondered if she’d colored it.  The little blond grabbed a clump of her feathery main self-consciously.  She wondered, for a moment, if Shafiq would ever let her dye it.  Colorful hair would be fun, and different.  Dorothy wouldn’t mind a change if it was as neat as pink hair.

The Hufflepuff’s comment about escaping the adults wasn’t addressed immediately.  Her guest had suddenly piped up with a cheerful,  "One minute, I'll answer you in a second...I just feel,"  Dorothy cocked her head.  What did Eris feel?  The red-head had been eyeing Dorothy’s face critically moments before.  Did she notice?  Madam Shafiq had encouraged Dorothy to put on some make up before the visit, saying plainly, “You need more color, daughter.  They will think you pale and ugly.” Pale and ugly was definitely not the impression Dorothy was looking for.  So, the young girl had pillaged her stemothers fashion magazines for a good picture to copy.  She had settled for a concerned looking witch with very pretty, pink, makeup on. 

Her eyes were dusted with a light coating of peachy-pink eyeshadow, and bits of gold glitter shimmered in the corners.  A few specks of the chunky gold stuck to her cheeks, showing signs of a few failed attempts.  The Madame had applied rouge to her cheeks and some light tan stuff under her eyes to make her look, “less dead”.  Overall, considering a twelve year old did most of it, her makeup wasn’t terrible.  The mistakes she made added to the overall look, and the chunky glitter freckles could be considered cute.  Most people would simply think it looked like a little girl got into her mother’s makeup, and they were quite right. 

Eris was squinching up her face in a rather odd manner.  Dorothy’s thick eyebrows rose curiously as a change came over the girls face.  Suddenly, Eris had makeup on!  How had she done it?  The conversation her stepmother had with her the other night suddenly came to the forefront of her mind.  What had she said again?  “The girl.  I’ve heard she has some metamorphmagus abilities.  This is rather rare, and I wish for you to be polite about it.  If this goes well, it could mean lovely benefits for me.  Please refrain from offering the Fawley’s any of the dimwitted comments you so often bother me with.”  Yes, that was it.  Eris was a metamorphmagus.  Dorothy’s mouth fell open in awe, but she quickly shut it.  “Do I look okay?"

“You look lovely! Real lady-like.  I wish I could just think makeup onto my face.  Madame-I mean, Mother makes me put it on myself.”  Dorothy spoke with reserved politeness.  Eris did look nice as far as she were concerned, and Dorothy’s hand reached up to sweep a speck of glitter from off her cheek.  Now she felt underdressed!

"I suppose sneaking off would be fun. It might be harder than usual, to tell the truth. Normally the adults aren't so close by, but we can always make the house elves pretend to be us. I'm just about as short as them, anyways." Dorothy cleared her throat to keep from laughing.  Madame Shafiq raised a thin eyebrow at the noise, and her young step-daughter coughed into a napkin to disguise the rest of her giggles.  When she was sure she wouldn’t laugh anymore, Dorothy placed the napkin gently on the table and sat up in her chair. 

“I don’t think that would q-quite work.  You see, my stepmother thinks my appearance is quite below that of a house elf’s, so if one replaced me.. Well, I’m quite sure she would notice my absence.”  She smiled mischievously.  “Maybe if we placed some mirrors in our seats, she would be too distracted by her appearance to notice our lack of.  Madame loves looking in mirrors.  They’re all over our house.”

Dorothy retrieved a gleaming, silver spoon from the table and stirred the warm tea thoughtfully.  She didn’t notice Eris’s greeting of the house elf, but heard only Demetra’s remark.  It was quite uncomfortable to hear Eris get scolded when the girl was sitting across from her.  The redheads eyes turned pink, and glistened with tears that refused to fall.  Dorothy’s stomach squirmed uncomfortably at the girl’s distress, but she didn’t know Eris enough to really try to comfort her.  So for a moment she awkwardly stay still, staring into her tea and biting her plump lower lip. 

"I've never been one for tea." Eris finally said, placing her cup of tea onto the table.  "It reminds me of my mum. She always had quite the thing for tea, and I'm not like my mum, regardless of what my grandmother may think. I'm not like my mother in the slightest".  Dorothy nodded.  She knew the feeling.  Giving her tea one more jerky stir, Dorothy hurriedly remarked, “Neither am I” before blushing furiously.  “I mean… Well, you know.”

Wishing to escape the situation, Dorothy turned to her stepmother and blurted out a question.  “Mother, may I please go and fetch Eris’s birthday present?” Her stepmother frowned splendidly, so the corners of her wide mother nearly reached her chin, and grouchily responded.  “Do not interrupt me, child.  No need to leave.  I’ll order a house elf to fetch it.  Puh-lease dear.” Madame waved a nearby house elf away with the back of her hand, and it went rushing off.  It would be back in a moment with a small box mussily wrapped in bright pink paper and tied with a giant golden bow.  The box would be placed in front of Eris before the house elf rushed away. 

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When Rhea and Max, and everyone else, had mentioned how horrible pureblood parents were, Eris had never thought that applied to her grandmother. Sure, her grandmother had always acted rather strange in public settings, warm demeanor freezing into one of frigid callousness, that frightened Eris to no avail. Yet, in the months that her grandmother was warm and open like the beautiful gardens outside of the manor. Warm, safe, and open, but then gone and destroyed, as the beauty of the gardens would be destroyed by the bitter bite of Winter and the promise of snow covering the rich red roses. The woman in front of her, cold and teasing, even to the young child who clearly was out of place, was not the type of woman who Eris would ever willingly love and intrust herself to, but she had given trust to the kind woman who reminded her of the summer breezes. There was little of that person in her grandmother now. The woman in front of her was stoic, as cold as the goddess of snow and ice that Eris’s mother had whispered to her about when the twins had been young and their mother had seemed more hopeful that something, anything, would save her red-haired daughter of chaos and discord from the magical life she was born to live. Was it love or hate that lead Jane Rowle to do such horrible things to her daughter, or was it a mix of both? They would never know, and apparently nothing could save Eris from an extraordinary life, and the mundane shades of gray and worn fear from her old life had long since been cleared away by the vibrant strains of colorful magic and raging flurries of friendship that Hogwarts had promised.

Khione. That’s who her grandmother reminded her of, as the rare cheerful memory of an otherwises horrible childhood brushed through the landscape of Eris’s adolescent mind. Her mother would tuck Jane and Eris into their small beds and pull out a worn book of Greek Mythology and read to the two girls about all the gods and goddess and their adventures. Blinking away tears, her resolve hardened, turning from sadness into the blissful anger that made Eris so feared and so dangerous at school. The same anger that had broken Ami kneecap faced down and honed into focus on Demetra Fawley, and did not balk, even as the pink and green strands of Eris’s hair and black-widow inspired makeup faded away, leaving her with brilliantly red hair, which, when caught in the sunlight sparkled and changed shades like the embers of a roaring wildfire. Often, the child couldn’t control her magic when she was emotional, and if the fiery inferno on top of Eris’s head was any inclination, she was mad enough to compare her hair to a burning fire, and mad enough for her eyes to sparkle with an inner glow of golden

Simmering in her chair, Eris turned back to Dorothy, with the bitter words still echoing in her head. She was nothing like her mother. Her mother had been a frightful coward, but Eris was going to be the savior of Hogwarts..someday, maybe. Flushing and catching a stern look from her grandmother, the child remembered her training to soothe her anger and powers, but at the angry look from a grandmother who was seldom angry, the russet strands of hair seemed to glow even more brightly. Frowning, Eris took a long sip from the tea and willed Khione’s ice into her veins, imagining the cold goddess from her youth blowing snowflakes and ice into the burning abyss of Eris’s anger and despair. Her daydreams did little to soothe the storm of wildfire burning inside, so the simple imagination was not enough to make Eris Fawley any less angry..but maybe the hufflepuff in front of her would soothe the anger.

And so, Eris studied Dorothy. The girl who had fought with Max at first, and then had fought with Max, Eris, and Dorian to counter the endless gloom and fear of the catacombs they had been stuck in during the lock-in. Blood and gore flashed through Eris’s mind, as did the memory of Dorothy standing up for her, but when Eris blinked, there was simply just a fragile blonde haired girl in front of her, offering the tiniest bit of reassurance against a grandmother who had gone as cold and still as ice on the Great Lake in the winter. She seemed to have issues with her own mother, calling her madame. Or maybe that was normal in pureblood households, which wouldn’t surprise Eris, not anymore.

Purebloods had a strange way of doing things. Watching the blonde girl laugh at the sly comment about house elves, Eris felt an adjoining smile mar her face. Carefully, she leaned across the table, making sure not to stick her elbows in the small sandwiches that littered the table in impressive stacks on glittering trays that shimmered in the midafternoon sun that was reflecting off of Eris’s wildfire hair. “Mirrors? In every room?” Her voice was quizzical and mesmerized, as she let out a loud gasp of a giggle.

“I think I’d get rather sick of my face, if that was me.” Eris remarked sagely, watching Dorothy sip her tea and mutter the words that every pureblood child kept hidden in the back of their heads at all times. Neither am I, she claimed, but under the statement, silently worded was the truth that all children of Eris’s year muttered to themselves. They were nothing like their parents. Eris was nothing like her evil mother, who was just as horrible as the gods of death and destruction in the greek myths Eris had grown up with. Faintly, ghost of a smile on her face, Eris opened her mouth but closed it at the glittering promise of a present.

Oh, how she loved presents! She felt nervous though, studying Dorothy’s mother and her awful clothing. Would Dorothy have gotten Eris something as repulsive as her mother’s outfit? Worried, she bit her lip to keep from engaging in any conversation with the nearby house-elf, having learned her lesson already from the cruel and callous words from her grandmother. Eris’s respect for the weathered woman was falling by the moment, as she chanced a glance down the table to her grandmother, who still sat and talked to the woman who reminded Eris of a vulture.

From what Dorothy and her grandfather had said, Eris had a vague feeling that Madame Shaqif was more of a vulture than anyone else in pureblood society. She had the angular, drawn out face of such a bird, and seemed willing to swoop in and snatch whatever she wanted. Which was Eris’s family and their considerable power and the rumors and gossip that would play out in the Shafiq's favor, when the world found out that they were hanging out with the esteemed Fawleys, who had already gone out of their way to expose Jane Rowley as the impure mongrel of a blood traitor that she was.
Watching the house-elf drop off a large box of gold, Eris turned to look at Dorothy and managed to control her glee as she smiled at the other girl. “Do you want to open this with me? I don’t think I can figure out how to open it on my own, plus, it might make our families happy if we do something together.” Her smile faded at the last words, but she kept a smile on her face after a second.

She was trying to be nice. Hopefully Dorothy would do the same, and maybe the day wouldn't be so bad.

Dorothy often contemplated independence.  The idea of making her own decisions was as frightening as it was exciting.  All her life, she had been surrounded by people who cared not about her, but about the way she made them look.  What would life be like if people stopped caring.  She frowned a moment, imagining her stepmother allowing her outside in muggle clothes, or permitting her to hang out with whoever she wanted.  It was an alien fancy, but a plausible one.

Shafiq cared so much, she hadn’t let Dorothy pick a present out for Eris.  Dorothy preferred making homemade gifts, because they were more private for her.  Madame kept tabs on all Dorothy’s financial and social activities, even making up rules that allowed the young girl little to no freedom.  Dorothy had been physically shaken when she saw the necklace her mother had picked out.

It was HORRID.

Chunky, platinum links connected the necklace to the large, gaudy beads that decorated it in the most grotesque manner possible.  Dorothy didn’t thinks such ugly jewelry could exist!  Her stepmother had retrieved it proudly, and with a smirk on her face, brought it back to their home.  A house elf wrapped it and all was well.  Dorothy, distraught at the idea of presenting Eris with this gift, had decided to attempt to find a different solution.  She headed to her stash.

Tucked under a loose board, beneath her large four-post bed, was a small cardboard box filled with a collection of muggle things. Among the articles was a broken yoyo, the head and arm of a barbie doll, a soiled Uno card, a full but dirty avengers comic book, and the limbless body of a care bear (stitched up by Dorothy).  These items had been retrieved from trashcans, roads and muddy corners.  They were some of Dorothy’s most special possessions, and she would occasionally pull the box out and study each of the objects in hopes of discovering more about the muggle world.  One day, while surveying her collection, Dorothy had an idea.  She would make something out of the comic.  It was a super hero comic, and Gryffindors were known for being brave or something. Right?

The Hufflepuff queen immediately started the construction of what she though was the best thing ever created.  After conquering the temptation to keep Eris’s present, Dorothy tucked it back away in the box, far from the prying eyes of Shafiq.

Now, with her secret present in mind, Dorothy cringed at the sight of the golden box the house elf brought.  Eris looked excited, which added to her shame and disgust. 

Overhead, the sun sparkled down into the garden and lit the pretty cake up with an unholy glow.  Perhaps it was the garden that made the sun sparkly, or perhaps it was the sun that made the garden glitter.  It was nearly impossible to tell, but the shininess of it all was a bit overwhelming even for someone who lived there.  All of Dorothy’s girlish fancies were embodied in her stepmothers garden, and she was happy to share them with another young lady her age. 

As if it were possible for Dorothy to be even more embarrassed, Eris turned to her with a smile.  “Do you want to open this with me? I don’t think I can figure out how to open it on my own, plus, it might make our families happy if we do something together.”  Dorothy’s grey eyes widened and her eyebrows furrowed.  She cast a quick, baleful glance at Madame Shafiq, who returned the look with that of an angry pelican. *sigh* She would have to do this. 

Offering a forced smile and moving over to Eris's side of the table, Dorothy politely replied to the girl's query.  “Of course, Eris.  It’d be my pleasure. It’s just paper, we can rip it all off.”  Shooting one more resentful glance at Shafiq, Dorothy reached over and tore off a small shred of wrapping paper from the corner.  She smiled sheepishly before speaking again in an anxious manner.  “I think you’ll find the unwrapping is the most enjoyable part of this gift.”  Looking down at the wrapping paper in her hand, she was surprised to see it melt into a cool fluid before forming a small golden bubble.  The little spheres of bubbly gold floated up into the air and towards the trees.  “I wasn’t expecting that.  Let’s tear it all up and make more!” She spoke this time with true excitement, and reached eagerly over to pull off another little piece. 

-------------------------
Madame Shafiq smiled at the bubbles in an arrogant manner before turning back to Demetra with a smile.  “I often have to remind Dorothy of the etiquette appropriate for a girl her age.  I’ve found that a firm hand is best when redirecting the foolish antics of children.  Of course, I’m sure you are well aware of the methods that best form our next pureblooded generation.” She smiled, and sipped her tea as her long nose reached for the sky.
 

Eris nearly glowed at the subtle nod of praise from her grandmother at the offer of opening the present together. Resisting the urge to ask for sunglasses to counteract the glow of the garden, Eris stared at the parcel again, deeply immersed in imagining what possibly could be wrapped under the layers of golden paper.

Independence was freedom that Eris had once known. She had once ran through the streets of London, barefoot and scruffy. That was the freedom that all children dreamed of, although it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. While Eris did love the taste of freedom, she often found that living under the large roof of the Fawley Manor, even it was often annoying to live under rules, was a lot better than living on the streets. While she did not particularly like her grandfather, and the clear bias towards pureblood supremacy that he made no effort to hide, living under his rules and listening to his threadbare lessons about the pureblood world was better. Having some semblance of authority to live under made Eris feel safer. She was a mere child, and did not know how to take care of herself. Although Eris would never admit to such thoughts, the subconscious of even the most rambunctious and rule-breaking Gryffindor knew that she could not live without adult supervision.

Of course, she was quite pleased with said adults in the moment, as she pushed herself up in the chairs at the Shaqif home and eyed the glittering gold box. Without her grandparents, this wonderful moment couldn’t have presented itself. Still, here she sat. Right in front of a present, for her! Wrapped in wrapping paper that looked like it was made out of real gold. If Eris knew what real gold looked like. However, this was what she imagined gold to look like. What magical delight could be in it? Her grandmother seemed to show reproach in her eyes, glancing over at Eris and the present, but she quickly smiled at the expression on her granddaughter’s face and looked back at the Shaqif matron. It felt nice, having a birthday present. Eris wasn’t a pauper, not by any means. She certainly had a lavish life, but the lack of birthday presents or presents in general was something that rubbed Eris the wrong way. Sure, she had everything she could ever want in life--besides a TV, after the regrettable incident of the day after Adam Harringtom’s sleepover. Grandfather Fawley had not been pleased with the intrusion of a lesser wizard in the Fawley home, nor had he been pleased with the balent usage of the Tv. So, it had to go. How would other families think if the Fawley heiress entertained her guests, even guests who were not pureblood, with muggle devices? It simply would not do.

But this? This was something Eris had not known she needed. Awed by the brilliance of the gold, Eris thought merrily of the gold of the Gryffindor scarves at school and idly wondered if even the gold of Gryffindor house was as beautiful as this gold wrapping paper. Even her house colors paled in comparison to this vibrant color. Although Eris would have liked to oogle the beauty of the packaging, the true wonder would be what was inside of the golden wrapping paper.

Her hopes floundered and failed at Dorothy’s low whisper, and in apprehension, Eris’ smile faded. Oh no. What could be such a horrid present that unwrapping it could be the best part? Unwrapping a present was fleeting, and not all that special. It wasn’t the unwrapping of a present that was the good part, no. That was the gift within. Feeling a bit of despair creeping into her veins, Eris stared down at the gold box. It no longer looked as pretty, not when the worry about whatever was inside was clouding her thoughts.

She very much wanted to rip into the paper and tear at it, like she had once teared away at the wrapping paper of the dragons Adam had given her for Christmas, but she sensed the situation would be different at this party. Not because of any switch going off in her head, finally signing the start of pureblood life. Rather, the way Dorothy artfully ripped at the paper, making the idle motion seem as if it was out of a ballet. About to lean forward and rip off a piece of gold, Eris let out a low gasp at the bubbles. Perhaps that was what Dorothy meant about unwrapping it being the best part. Maybe the present wasn’t that bad! Letting herself feel excitement again, Eris carefully ripped off a large piece of paper, immersing herself in attempting to pop the golden bubbles as they wafted up into the air. Then, when Dorothy said she wasn’t expecting it, Eris’ face and hope dropped again. Praying that Dorothy was lying for spectacle, Eris returned to intently popping bubbles with a soft laugh. Even for all her nerves, she found that popping bubbles was quite enjoyable.

Then, the present was visible, after Eris opened the box that the wrapping paper had concealed. Eris blinked at the thing. Was it a crown? Something that big couldn’t possibly fit around her neck or her arms. How..nice of them...to buy her a crown. Lifting the crown up to put it on her head, Eris paused to look at her grandmother. This couldn’t possibly be happening. Furrowing her brow, Eris caught a glance of her grandmother’s face, who looked close to laughter. Still, the warning was clear in Demetra’s eyes, as she tapped at her neck in a reminder to put it around her neck, not her head.

Silently slipping the large thing onto her neck, Eris looked miserable with the bulky thing around her neck. Blinking back tears of disappointment, Eris rapidly wiped at her face and shook her head. The thing was rather silly. Although she would never actually wear it, ever again. Reminding herself that saying thank you was expected, Eris took off the necklace and placed it back in the box it had came in.

“Thank you for the...lovely gift..I’m uh, going to put it back in the box...so it doesn’t get dirty...from the food, yeah.” She said meekly, still staring at the necklace with a muted expression. Silently closing the lid of the box and tucking it onto her lap, Eris smoothed out the folds of her dress, rumbled around the box, and turned back to Dorothy.

“The wrapping paper was nice though. I wonder if we’ll ever learn how to turn paper into bubbles. Transfiguration, maybe?”

She attempted to start a conversation, evidently still a little rattled from the strange necklace.

Demetra Fawley was well versed in conversations with people who bored her, and was even more well versed in faking interest and a smile. She was quite talented at hiding her emotions and her true feelings about a situation. Still, she felt a flash of annoyance at the hideous gift and resolved to gift Eris something less horrid when they went out shopping. Demetra was quite proud of her granddaughter for sticking through it and trying so vainly to act like a little pureblood lady. It seemed the tasking lessons her husband had thrown upon their grandchild had finally stuck with her.

Looking hastily away from her granddaughter, Demetra sipped at the tea in her hands. She had never been much of a fan of the tea served at such gatherings. Not after visiting Adonis in the United States and learning about the wonders of the drink muggles called Snapple. The Fawley matron had a secret love for all things muggle, and that addiction was fed by her brother-in-law. It was painfully obvious to all who were versed in muggle fashion, from the way she dressed her family in expensive clothing, and even more obvious to those who caught the woman peering at muggleborn workers below her at the ministry and pestering them with questions. Yet, few caught Demetra Fawley asking questions. Her spirit had been diminished in the years living with her stoic husband, and her few hobbies were hidden under layers of life’s great disappointments and all the woe inflicted upon her.

Demetra was very protective of children, and the motherly urge inside of her wanted to remind Madame Shaqif that Dorothy was a mere child. She would not need to be versed in etiquette at a young age. Biting her tongue and adopting the drawl that was expected out of her at such events, detesting every word that came out of her mouth, Demetra molded her face into an indifferent facade. Tilting her face up, until she looked just as pompous and regal as the other woman, Demetra set down her tea and sniffed.

“Ah, yes. I do find Eris is quite a challenge. Silly child, grown up away from the politics of our world. However, firm hands and the right friends are all we can do for these children right now. I expect they need time to mature into our world."