Forever and a Day ~ James Potter

Prologue

Wednesday 1st September 1971 ~ 10:38 ~ waxing moon

"Roisín!"

Amélie Artois snapped suddenly, her natural French accent flaring a little in her frustration as she lifted a petite bony hand to clip her only daughter around the head, uncaring of the fact that a few pairs of eyes around her were looking suspiciously. "If I catch you pulling that obscene face at your brother again..." she looked her daughter directly in the eye, not needing to give a consequence to her threat for the girl to shrink under the woman's harsh gaze, straightening her face immediately.

Roisín took in a sharp breath, panicked thoughts whirling through her head so much that she completely forgot that she was out in the middle of London, "Je suis désolé maman. Ceci ne se reproduira pas," she apologised hurriedly, forgetting to even speak English as her pale cheeks stained pink with worry.

"And will you please start speaking English! You've lived here long enough," the tall woman hissed pointedly, embarrassed of her daughter's 'moronic' antics (as she liked to call them) as usual.

"Sorry... Mother," Roisín muttered guiltily, lowering her head ashamedly and being the first to break the tense eye contact.

The foursome of Wizards marched their way through King's Cross Station, glaring snootily at any Muggle who dared stand in their way. Well, all of them did this except Roisin, who only tried to send quick apologetic looks at those people who had been stared down by her snobbish family.

She had always known that she was the only truly sensible person in her family – except for her Grandfather – even if the rest of them always told her how much of a shameful child she was to them. No matter how much they had tried to drill their ideas into her head, she'd always found herself questioning why Pureblood Wizards were so avidly against the existence of any other blood status – but Merlin forbid she would ever actually say these thoughts out loud.

Her mother came from one of the highest noble names in Europe, meaning her children had taken her maiden name instead of their father's surname. The Artois family was part of the noble Wizarding families of France and had moved to England some twenty years ago to agree on a marriage for their youngest child and Roisín's mother, Amélie Artois.

Amélie was fairly dark-skinned, like her father, and had elegant curly hair, which she always scraped up and piled into a neat bun on the top of her head. Her beauty was undeniable; her lips were dark and full, her cheekbones were high and curved, her nose was dainty and delicate, and her skin was as gracefully smooth as a porcelain teacup, but nothing in the world could be compared to the woman's eyes. They were the lightest part of her features: sage green with golden flecks scattered throughout the iris. These eyes had never once failed to catch the entire undivided attention of anyone she willed herself to look at.

But Roisín knew what hid behind those eyes. Every time they locked with her own dull, dark ones in a glare, her hand would itch to grab her left cheek – though it was always too late, the scar had been set in place. Amélie Artois was truly a monster, and it seemed that nobody could see it apart from her only daughter.

She began to let her feet carry her towards her destination as she pondered over the fact that she hadn't seen her father that morning and never got the opportunity to wave him goodbye before he left for work. Although he was far from being the nicest man in the world, he was still more tolerable than most of the family.

Ruslan Suvorov was the man that everybody was afraid of. He was tall - taller than any of the other men on his side of the family - and anything but charming. His demeanour was cold and rigid; he always made one feel like he could kill them with a glance when in the wrong mood. The only man that Ruslan was ever cautious around was Francois Artois (his wife's father), which had always seemed fitting to Roisin, somehow.