Post by jazzyjess on Sept 11, 2011 20:16:38 GMT -8
Title: An Ode to an Ending (i)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 544
Character(s): Augusta Longbottom
Warnings (if any):
Summary: Frank deserved Alice. Even you can see that.
-
The first time Frank brings her home, it’s the Christmas holidays. You’ve never made it a habit to meet your son at the platform – not even at the end of term – but you are always in the library, skirts folded neatly around you, spectacles perched on the bridge of your nose, the Prophet in your hand, waiting for him. As you expect, you soon hear the crack of Apparition and feet on the stairs. You hear his voice and that of your house elf, but you’re startled to hear the soft tones of a woman.
“Mother.” Frank hops up the three steps leading into the library, then pauses and reaches back a hand. You’re a little startled to notice that he doesn’t let go, even when they’re both standing in front of you, your son slouching a bit with his free hand in his pocket and the girl nervously smoothing her school robes. “This is Alice.”
The girl – Alice – steps forward, releasing Frank’s hand to offer it to you. You very deliberately refold the paper in your hands, crease its folds between your fingers, and lay it carefully on the table before taking her outstretched hand to shake. “Thank you so much for having me, madam,” she says, dipping her head politely, and you see that her sleek black hair falls in a horsetail down her back. She seems meek and you don’t like meek people. You raised your son to be strong, and have long expected that he find a strong woman for himself. “I’ve never spent a Christmas with my family since starting school. I’ve always stayed at Hogwarts because my parents have been travelling. I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am for your invitation.”
You pause. “My invitation?” You turn and fix your pointed stare on your son’s face, and he meets your eyes with an apologetic smile.
Your attention is only away from her for a brief moment, but when you look back, Alice has both hands on her hips and is glaring at your son, too. “Frank Longbottom,” she snaps, and all sense of meekness disappears from her face. “You told me that your mother invited me here herself. Clearly, she has no idea about any of this! How could you possibly be so rude?” You open your mouth to speak, but Alice whirls back towards you and you see determination in her dark eyes. “I’m sorry, madam. I hope it won’t be too difficult to accommodate me at this point.”
Alice doesn’t insult you by insisting she find her way back to Hogwarts, or even to the home of a school friend. This is exactly the response you’d have liked, and bit by bit you feel your grudging respect grow for this firey child. As they leave the library, you catch Frank looking at you. He is mulling over a thought – his thinking face is on, the face he’s worn from childhood, and you’d recognise that look anywhere. You think you can probably guess what he’s thinking, too. This was a clever stunt he pulled, and you think he’s testing Alice even more than he’s testing you.
You chuckle and lean back in your seat. The boy becomes more and more like you every year.
Edit: Awarded 10 Points, by Bec, On 13/09/11.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 544
Character(s): Augusta Longbottom
Warnings (if any):
Summary: Frank deserved Alice. Even you can see that.
-
The first time Frank brings her home, it’s the Christmas holidays. You’ve never made it a habit to meet your son at the platform – not even at the end of term – but you are always in the library, skirts folded neatly around you, spectacles perched on the bridge of your nose, the Prophet in your hand, waiting for him. As you expect, you soon hear the crack of Apparition and feet on the stairs. You hear his voice and that of your house elf, but you’re startled to hear the soft tones of a woman.
“Mother.” Frank hops up the three steps leading into the library, then pauses and reaches back a hand. You’re a little startled to notice that he doesn’t let go, even when they’re both standing in front of you, your son slouching a bit with his free hand in his pocket and the girl nervously smoothing her school robes. “This is Alice.”
The girl – Alice – steps forward, releasing Frank’s hand to offer it to you. You very deliberately refold the paper in your hands, crease its folds between your fingers, and lay it carefully on the table before taking her outstretched hand to shake. “Thank you so much for having me, madam,” she says, dipping her head politely, and you see that her sleek black hair falls in a horsetail down her back. She seems meek and you don’t like meek people. You raised your son to be strong, and have long expected that he find a strong woman for himself. “I’ve never spent a Christmas with my family since starting school. I’ve always stayed at Hogwarts because my parents have been travelling. I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am for your invitation.”
You pause. “My invitation?” You turn and fix your pointed stare on your son’s face, and he meets your eyes with an apologetic smile.
Your attention is only away from her for a brief moment, but when you look back, Alice has both hands on her hips and is glaring at your son, too. “Frank Longbottom,” she snaps, and all sense of meekness disappears from her face. “You told me that your mother invited me here herself. Clearly, she has no idea about any of this! How could you possibly be so rude?” You open your mouth to speak, but Alice whirls back towards you and you see determination in her dark eyes. “I’m sorry, madam. I hope it won’t be too difficult to accommodate me at this point.”
Alice doesn’t insult you by insisting she find her way back to Hogwarts, or even to the home of a school friend. This is exactly the response you’d have liked, and bit by bit you feel your grudging respect grow for this firey child. As they leave the library, you catch Frank looking at you. He is mulling over a thought – his thinking face is on, the face he’s worn from childhood, and you’d recognise that look anywhere. You think you can probably guess what he’s thinking, too. This was a clever stunt he pulled, and you think he’s testing Alice even more than he’s testing you.
You chuckle and lean back in your seat. The boy becomes more and more like you every year.
Edit: Awarded 10 Points, by Bec, On 13/09/11.