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Past Workshop Prompts / Re: [prompt 1] blond hair, blue eyes
« on: 12/31/2016 at 08:12 »
The young mother answered with a sad smile, and quiet voice. Her entire countenance was small and unassuming; as if someone had pressed petals into a glass vase. Elsie worried of talking too loudly, lest she blow the slight creature over, or right off the platform to the waiting train that students scrambled on and off of. Much different from the son she waved her damp handkerchief after, who - Elsie laughed openly as he blew a raspberry at some passing boy and promptly got into a squabble before the two disappeared into the train arm-in-arm before she could step forward. The woman seemed equally horrified and amused at the sight.
(She’d learn to love him even with that silliness if she didn’t already, because she seemed like the type that loved her child no matter what, and that was something Elsie knew of, even if she knew nothing else of mothering. She got one thing right. One.)
The woman smiled wryly at Elsie, an expression she returned easily. “I can see the rascal now,” she snorted, folding her arms over her chest as she glanced briefly towards her own rascal of a son. He could fill the entire expanse of the mansion with his smile and compete with the sun if he tried hard enough. (Just like his father.) If this woman thought it was hard going home now, Elsie could only imagine how the years would progress and the house felt emptier and emptier as their little boys grew up and became men in an Unplottable Castle.
She returned every September to the still empty house, and the still empty bedroom, and the still empty hole in her life that she gave away years ago. It was for the best, she told herself over and over that first day, seeing his rich robes and easy smile. He didn’t know struggle, he didn’t know scrambling to make ends meet — there was a lot he didn’t know, and it was for the best, because it had to be. It had to be.
(Let that be two things right, then, if it was the only two things right she ever did.)
This one, though, had all the time in the world with her little one. Entire summers to make up for months away, and entire lifetimes for the rest of it. Elsie felt a mix of jealousy and satisfaction for the mother; at least one of them could have it, right? “It is hard,” was all she offered in quiet compassion for the woman. “But it gets easier,” because one had to believe it first before it became a reality. “You will find things to busy yourself with.”
It was something that Hogwarts robbed mothers of. They missed all the years where their children sprinted through the halls with a group of boys to hex girls’ robes around the ankles. They missed coaching them through their first crush, and nudging them to act and just ask her to the dance already! Elsie would never hold him after his first breakup, where the ache in his heart might be a fraction of hers. They would never see their child struggle with spells, only see their successes back home, never help them through homework, never take care of them when they were sick.
It took their babies and spat back independent men armed with wands.
“Is yours going into first year too?”
Yours. Elsie stifled a flinch as she looked away from the blonde with a casual shake of her head. The tension filled her fist, deep in her jacket pocket, as her teeth grazed her lip to remind herself to watch her tongue. “No, he’s going into fourth year,” she answered, because there were numerous fourth years. And somewhere, deep in her heart, she wanted to pretend like she had any claim to the boy whose laughter curled in her ears even now. It was a desperate cry that was easy to ignore when she wasn’t faced with the prominent distance between them - it was only a matter of feet here, but it stretched into their very blood, his very perception of her. Friend of my father’s.
Out of the corner of her eye, he elbowed a boy in Slytherin robes, both of them pushing playfully and jostling for the door. Elsie’s smile quirked at the side, at least happy that he was enjoying himself. A glance at the clock and Elsie realized they only had twenty minutes before he left. Would this be the year he didn’t notice her? Elsie felt the press of her nails into her palm as she restrained herself from grabbing his attention, looking down before shifting her attention back to the woman at her side. Before she opened her mouth, though —
“Elsie!” Looking up, Elsie’s blue eyes widened to see Charles in front of her. He would grow taller than her. He made her breathless, but not in the same way Kris did. It was gasping for the right words, to make the most of the singular moments they had together. To somehow get across that she still loved him more than the world itself, even if she could give him absolutely nothing. (Even if she was absolutely nothing to him.)
He was a race she had already fallen behind on, but Godric would have to drag her down himself before she gave up before the finish line, and even then, she would crawl the rest of the way.
“Hey, Charles,” she said easily, ruffling his hair. “Off to school again? Merlin, you have grown again! A beanstalk, I’m telling you.” She tweaked his nose, “Write to me sometime, yeah? Let me know you’re doing okay in that stone cold place?” she teased, as he laughed.
“Sure, mom, I’ll be sure to do that. You worry more than the nannies sometimes, you know that? See ya at Christmas,” Charles said in his boisterous voice that commanded both attention and respect, the pristine Pureblood he was supposed to be. He didn’t notice the stricken look on Elsie’s face as he walked off, lifting a few fingers in a teasing goodbye, boarding the train with his growing group of friends.
“That is your boy?”
She should have said no, just a relative, or a friend. I am friend of his father’s, would have been the safest thing to say. The best thing to say, yet Elsie still smiled weakly and looked straight into the vibrant blue orbs of Charles as he waved from the train.
“Yes.”
(She’d learn to love him even with that silliness if she didn’t already, because she seemed like the type that loved her child no matter what, and that was something Elsie knew of, even if she knew nothing else of mothering. She got one thing right. One.)
The woman smiled wryly at Elsie, an expression she returned easily. “I can see the rascal now,” she snorted, folding her arms over her chest as she glanced briefly towards her own rascal of a son. He could fill the entire expanse of the mansion with his smile and compete with the sun if he tried hard enough. (Just like his father.) If this woman thought it was hard going home now, Elsie could only imagine how the years would progress and the house felt emptier and emptier as their little boys grew up and became men in an Unplottable Castle.
She returned every September to the still empty house, and the still empty bedroom, and the still empty hole in her life that she gave away years ago. It was for the best, she told herself over and over that first day, seeing his rich robes and easy smile. He didn’t know struggle, he didn’t know scrambling to make ends meet — there was a lot he didn’t know, and it was for the best, because it had to be. It had to be.
(Let that be two things right, then, if it was the only two things right she ever did.)
This one, though, had all the time in the world with her little one. Entire summers to make up for months away, and entire lifetimes for the rest of it. Elsie felt a mix of jealousy and satisfaction for the mother; at least one of them could have it, right? “It is hard,” was all she offered in quiet compassion for the woman. “But it gets easier,” because one had to believe it first before it became a reality. “You will find things to busy yourself with.”
It was something that Hogwarts robbed mothers of. They missed all the years where their children sprinted through the halls with a group of boys to hex girls’ robes around the ankles. They missed coaching them through their first crush, and nudging them to act and just ask her to the dance already! Elsie would never hold him after his first breakup, where the ache in his heart might be a fraction of hers. They would never see their child struggle with spells, only see their successes back home, never help them through homework, never take care of them when they were sick.
It took their babies and spat back independent men armed with wands.
“Is yours going into first year too?”
Yours. Elsie stifled a flinch as she looked away from the blonde with a casual shake of her head. The tension filled her fist, deep in her jacket pocket, as her teeth grazed her lip to remind herself to watch her tongue. “No, he’s going into fourth year,” she answered, because there were numerous fourth years. And somewhere, deep in her heart, she wanted to pretend like she had any claim to the boy whose laughter curled in her ears even now. It was a desperate cry that was easy to ignore when she wasn’t faced with the prominent distance between them - it was only a matter of feet here, but it stretched into their very blood, his very perception of her. Friend of my father’s.
Out of the corner of her eye, he elbowed a boy in Slytherin robes, both of them pushing playfully and jostling for the door. Elsie’s smile quirked at the side, at least happy that he was enjoying himself. A glance at the clock and Elsie realized they only had twenty minutes before he left. Would this be the year he didn’t notice her? Elsie felt the press of her nails into her palm as she restrained herself from grabbing his attention, looking down before shifting her attention back to the woman at her side. Before she opened her mouth, though —
“Elsie!” Looking up, Elsie’s blue eyes widened to see Charles in front of her. He would grow taller than her. He made her breathless, but not in the same way Kris did. It was gasping for the right words, to make the most of the singular moments they had together. To somehow get across that she still loved him more than the world itself, even if she could give him absolutely nothing. (Even if she was absolutely nothing to him.)
He was a race she had already fallen behind on, but Godric would have to drag her down himself before she gave up before the finish line, and even then, she would crawl the rest of the way.
“Hey, Charles,” she said easily, ruffling his hair. “Off to school again? Merlin, you have grown again! A beanstalk, I’m telling you.” She tweaked his nose, “Write to me sometime, yeah? Let me know you’re doing okay in that stone cold place?” she teased, as he laughed.
“Sure, mom, I’ll be sure to do that. You worry more than the nannies sometimes, you know that? See ya at Christmas,” Charles said in his boisterous voice that commanded both attention and respect, the pristine Pureblood he was supposed to be. He didn’t notice the stricken look on Elsie’s face as he walked off, lifting a few fingers in a teasing goodbye, boarding the train with his growing group of friends.
“That is your boy?”
She should have said no, just a relative, or a friend. I am friend of his father’s, would have been the safest thing to say. The best thing to say, yet Elsie still smiled weakly and looked straight into the vibrant blue orbs of Charles as he waved from the train.
“Yes.”
