she is the moon
“she was like the moon, a part of her was always hidden away
Violeta had been climbing up on the roof since she was seven, she discovered she could easily climb up to the roof from her bedroom window even as a seven year old little girl. She discovered this only a few weeks after they had moved. She felt homesick, and remembered that at their old home, she used to do the same thing. This was her way of connecting to her old home.
Tonight she felt homesick. Not Palo Alto, her new home, Hogwarts. It was an exeat weekend, and the twelve year old had come to her recently reconstructed home. It was still being reconstructed and would never be the same as it once had been. Her parents warned her about the reconstruction, and that she probably should not come, she did come anyway. She probably should have followed her parents advice, though she did not.
Her siblings all stayed at Hogwarts, and she should have also stayed, honestly, but she was already in Manchester and there was really nothing to do but stay. Her parents did not care for her much, and most of the time her presence was ignored. She was used to it, being the middle child and all.
During her stay at the manor, it would probably be the same. The ignorance she was used to. The brunette pulled out her grandfather's journal, not her own, but his, the smalleather-bound thick journal with his initials, 'C.G.R' embroidered in gold, in what seemed like the 'Georgia' font, though in italics. She examined the journal carefully, although she had already examined it many, many, many times before.
The young girl pulled out a yellow flashlight, one that had been a gift from her father, from one of his trips to the muggle world. He'd gifted one to each of his offspring, each a different color. Violeta's was mustard yellow. An ugly color, certainly, but she couldn't use her wand at home, so a muggle flashlight would do. She turned the muggle device on and started going through the journal.
Then... something feel out of the thick journal. Something she had not seen before. Was that... a letter? She opened it and it was written in French, finally a language she recognized. The girl read it in a matter of seconds and reread it again. She was clearly in shock.
Oh my. Violeta had so many questions. Who was Marigold? Was that even her real name? Her grandparents were an arranged marriage after all? After all those love stories? 'She is the moon'? That was so... romantic. Was the 'you know who' her grandmother? She just had to know, and soon enough she'd find out... someway, somehow.Ma chère Marigold,
Il n'y a pas d'autre façon de le dire, mais je vais l'épouser... Tu sais qui. Nous sommes censés déménager bientôt et faire semblant que ceci n'est pas arrangé. Je t'aime et je le ferai toujours, Marigold, je te le promets. J'ai essayé et essayé, mais nous ne pouvons tout simplement pas être ensemble. Tu es la lune. Ma lune. Je suis tellement désolé, mon amour, ma chérie, ma Marigold, ma Mari. Je suis désolé.
À toi toujours,
Charlie
My dearest darling, Marigold,
There is no other way to say this but I am getting married to her... You know who. We're supposed to move soon and pretend this isn't arranged. I love you and always will, Marigold I promise. I tried and tried, but we simply can't be together. You are the moon. My moon. I'm so very sorry my love my darling, my Marigold, my Mari. I'm sorry.
Yours always,
Charlie
@