evermore | f.weasley

chapter one

(THE GOBLET OF FIRE)

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CATHERINE'S hands were burning. She sat crossed legged rubbing her Auntie's jeans together, scratching harshly at the mud stain on the ankle. Their washing machine was broken, so Catherine found herself with cracks in her hands that were pink and raw from wringing out their grey socks and then throwing them in to the basket beside her. At least everything smelt nice, she thought, with her stomach and thighs darkened from spilt water. She grimaced at the dirty pile of clothes still much taller than the clean pile, but knowing it was already testing her strength, she gave in and forced herself up. She lifted the basket with a strained huff and sat it on her waist. This summer had been off. The air felt heavy, like it was carrying a secret, and she couldn't concentrate on her studying and she missed her friends more than ever. It was strange; as she stepped outside and her bare feet squelched in the mud, freshly dampened by the rain, Catherine thought of Fred and George Weasley, and wondered briefly if they missed her as much as she missed them. She looked at the sky and wondered what they were doing today - she wondered how much Fred had matured over the summer and her cheeks blushed. She cleared her throat.

The socks she had twisted out prior now dropped the water she'd failed to remove and splattered cold, dirty droplets on to her bare toes. It was more noticeable now the sun was setting and the air had a cold chill reminding her that winter was never too far away, even when the days were hot and sticky. She pinned the last of her clothing on the clothing line in the backyard, strung up precariously between two dying trees, and headed back inside to continue washing.

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When her Aunt returned home with shopping bags in her feeble hands, Catherine soon wondered why there was mud on her knuckles. She frowned, pushing the bags open with her nail. Her Aunt Sarah had bought eggs, but they lay broken. The bottle of milk she had purchased streaked with egg white was still in tact, though. Their shopping list had been extensive. They were struggling with meals lately and Catherine insisted on doing the shopping for them. But her Auntie's flash of coherence nibbled at Catherine's guilt and she let her go, unsupervised, to the small market down the road. It wasn't a huge problem - Catherine could go later in the evening, but she had a potions essay she needed finishing for the new term. She sighed.

Somehow, in the time Catherine poked the egg shells around in the plastic bag on their table, her Aunt had tried to make herself a coffee; Catherine saw the back door was still open, her discarded basket holding it ajar. Her eyes widened, a cup of dirt in her Auntie's hand and snatched it quickly without thinking. She startled her frail brain and Catherine immediately shrank, looking at the empty, wide, childlike eyes in front of her.

"That's mine, silly!" It's all Catherine could think of as she held the evidence of Sarah's forgetful brain. Sarah looked at the dirty mug in Catherine's hand with a distracted frown.

"It is? Sorry, Cathy."

"It's alright," Catherine smiled, placing the dirty mug on the table and getting a clean one from the cupboard above her head. "It's gone cold anyway, I'll make us both a new one, yeah?" Her Auntie nodded with a distant smile, already forgetting their conversation.

"Such a good girl." She mumbled, running her long, muddy fingers through Catherine's ponytail. Spiders ran down Catherine's spine, hearing her mother's voice somewhere beneath her raspy words. Catherine began blinking rapidly, a sharp pain in her chest at the memory of her mother and tears swiftly after. The screech of the phone was a welcome distraction. Catherine turned off the plug sockets and the stove routinely as she left her Aunt Sarah alone in the kitchen and picked the house phone from its place in the living room. Clearing her throat, she asked a strained, "Hello?"