Growing Pains
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| xxx | By the time Lottie had returned home after her second year at Hogwarts, the Winfield children were far too old for a babysitter. It was the first time since Lottie had been born that the large mansion snuggled into the outskirts of Cambrdige was truly silent. Her mother and father had spared only a quick greeting upon her arrival followed by a quiet dinner and a long review of her studies. Her father had left only a day after on business, though for what purpose, Lottie was unsure. Her mother had left soon after as well. A day before her departure to visit some "friends" over in London, she had stolen Lottie away from the library to prop her in front of the bathroom mirror and slowly brush a comb through her hair. A stream of quiet, specific compliments rolled from her tongue, but Lottie imagined she was more complimenting her own traits than any of Lottie's true efforts to maintain a neat appearance. Her mother had told her of all the fun she had had with the house all to herself, how she had thrown the most outrageous of parties and met the most peculiar of people. She braided Lottie's hair into two neat rows and detailed the places she had seen and the food she had tasted and the clothes she had bought in haste. Lottie knew this was more for her mother's sake than anything, but she allowed it mostly out of fear that any misplaced comments would drive her mother away. It was rare that her mother would allow this much time to speak with Lottie. Much rarer that she would allow herself to get this close, unless it were to fix the collar of Lottie's shirt or pat down the wrinkles of her skirt. The moment faded quickly, but not before her mother had tied off the second braid with a neat bow and ran her spindly fingers over the bumps. She hummed thoughtfully, then left without a word. Lottie didn't know how long she had spent afterwards staring at herself in the mirror, examining the fine curl of her chocolate hair. It was her father's, of course. But her eyes were all her mother's handiwork. Sad and wide and distant. But stern. Unshaken. Next year, Francis would be in his first year, and Ethel would already be moving into her second. Lottie would be a third year. Louis would likely rise even higher in the ministry ranks. And Anadil would still be gone. And Eugene would still be here, for many, many years. She supposed that was the greatest heartbreak for her. Lottie wasn't sure how she would feel seeing her younger sibling again, but what she hadn't expected was the rush of fondness so full and deep that it hurt just to feel. Every time she looked at Francis she saw herself, two years earlier. Smaller. More curious about the world. Ready to escape. She could sense a restlessness in him, even when he was simply reading in the library or tending to the garden. He was a strangely solitary creature, and he had picked up many hobbies in her and Ethel's absence. Gardening was only one of many. Soon enough, Lottie found that he was taking the lead on cooking, cleaning, and even decor. He had learned how to play the piano, and quite well at that. He was also uniquely skilled at sewing. Most of Lottie's time had strangely been devoted to her youngest brother, Eugene. Of course his parents had needed an adult in the house, but most of the nannies were transient creatures, coming in the morning and leaving by supper. Lottie had found her own squares of time to slip in while they were away and pluck Eugene out of his stylish new toddler bed. She'd walk with him around the house, the two of them quiet as church mice. Eugene would point at things and babble away softly, and Lottie would silently observe whatever had caught his interest and urge him along. She'd take him to the gardens and name each flower they passed, and Eugene would pluck his favorites up and stuff them in his pockets. Her favorite place to take Eugene was the library. She would find her favorite books from when she was young and seek out all the pictures for the little boy. She'd point at words she liked and sound them out for him, and he would repeat some of them clumsily. She would recite her favorite poems by memory to his round, captivated face, and applaud afterwards so that he would snap back to himself and clap along with her. It was easier to be with Eugene than Francis. At least with Eugene, Lottie believed she could change the course of his future. Make him wiser to his parents' words. Their parents words. So much time away had made her forgetful of that fact. She knew that soon she would have to leave. It was an uncertain fact in her mind, but an inevitable truth in reality. A month before the train back to Hogwarts, she had found Francis staring out the window in the kitchen, fingers curled around a wooden spoon, yet motionless. He had a strange look in his eyes, as though his body was vacant, and his mind had wandered off somewhere too far out of reach. When Lottie gently touched his shoulder, he blinked and looked down at the windowsill. "What if I'm a squib?" Lottie didn't know what she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that. He said it so earnestly, his voice soft enough to shiver and crack into a million pieces. It made her feel so horrible inside that she had to rest on the counter for support. "What... what do you mean?" He didn't meet her gaze, but wrung his hands through the hem of his shirt. "I read about it in one of you books. Some children of wizards turn out to be muggles. Mother would have my head, she'd-" "Francis, stop." Lottie shook her head, waving the thought away with a sharp flick of her wrist. "You're not a squib. You're a wizard, of course you are. What is this about?" Silence immediately startled Lottie, filling the room with a dreadful calm. She wanted to wrap Francis in her arms and squeeze all the fear out of him so badly she trembled with it, but she didn't move a muscle. She watched him very closely, as his hands fell to his sides and his teeth worked his bottom lip slowly, just like Lottie did when she felt strongly. He opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head. "Nevermind." Lottie and Francis didn't speak again until a week before summer's end, when Louis arrived from the ministry. | xxx |
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Growing Pains |  |
| ✦"You better start walking. Love takes miles."✦ STA 8 │ EVA 8 │ STR 6 │ WIS 6 │ ARC 6 │ ACC 7 |