CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

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Before Hogwarts

When Lucca was nine years old, Francesca taught him that outside Latin America the worlds were divided by fields and wards, carrying a wand in public was a target to get the magical governments to call you in and magic was a forbidden word to say. Francesca had to remind him to keep quiet when they were in muggle areas, but since it was a rare occasion when they visited the muggle side of the new towns they travelled to, they never had an issue. Their visits were hardly touristic. Even if they stayed in hotels, the other places they went to were restaurants and hospitals, and it was a miracle if Lucca played outside in a park. She tried to not feel guilty about this but it was for his own good.

"After this visit, we can go to that shop you like, the one with the broomstick," she whispered as they sat down to wait. "Or to the park."

Lucca hid his face in her neck, breathing through the tears. He didn't want her to see him cry. Milan and Venice told him he was soon to be eleven and off to Hogwarts, it was another fight between siblings and Francesca hated when they both were mean to him. They knew Lucca couldn't help it. He was upset because it was raining, which meant no park, and, oh gods, again, they were in a hospital.

Hospitals have this specific scent that made Francesca's stomach curl in the most unpleasant way. It was either the looks of the people to have a sick son or the condescending tone nurses and healers and doctors spoke, as if Francesca was stupid and didn't understand a thing about healing. As if she, herself, hadn't been raised with two healer parents and studied for three years before dropping off.

"Your Auntie Celia said Healer Keelly is the best," She kept her hands brushing his hair, untangling the mess England's humid weather caused. "It's just to check what he has to say about you."

Lucca was a bit scared of Celia. Francesca didn't blame him, that poor woman barely cracked a smile, and when she did it was staged and strained. She pitied her a little. Even though she had a tense relationship with her own mother, Pandora Sallow was a special case. It made her miss her own Mami even more.

"That man has a pumpkin hat on his head," he broke the silence. "He looks stupid."

Francesca chuckled. "Bet he does."

"I don't like pumpkin juice. Milan said she liked it. But it tastes too sweet."

"I prefer orange juice, too."

Lucca sighed and pulled from his mother's embrace to stand on the bench. "Mummy," he started, very serious, "don't you miss Da a lot when you are with me?"

Francesca, who has grown used to these random moments since her son got cursed, thought about his question. It was rare the last time she danced with William, something so regular to them lost months ago in between hospital visits. "I do," she admitted, she couldn't lie to her baby when he looked at her with those eyes. "Let me tell you a secret."

"Venice says I'm good at keeping secrets because I'm too dumb to remember them."

"Ah," Francesca only said. Venice's attitude was showing more than ever since she started attending Hogwarts. "Well. That's not nice. Do not repeat it."

Lucca returned his attention to the man on the other side. "Sir, why do you have a pumpkin stuck in your head?"

The man emitted an offended sound and didn't reply. Lucca turned back to her. "What's your secret to not miss Da a lot? 'Cause, Mami, I miss him a lot. And here," he placed both hands on his chest, "hurts. But I think I will see him soon and it stops."

"Sometimes I miss him when he is right next to me."

"Why?"

"Because love is ridiculous."

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