until it wasn't - fred weasley

one. the fawley way

The Fawley dining room was too large for six people. It had always been too large. Hesperia had thought this every Sunday evening since she was old enough to understand that most families did not need a table capable of seating twenty-four people simply to eat dinner. The table was an enormous piece of dark mahogany, polished so thoroughly that the candlelight reflected across its surface, and the six of them occupied so little of it that there were always several empty chairs between one member of the family and the next. On particularly quiet evenings, Hesperia sometimes felt as though they were dining in different rooms entirely.

Tonight, the emptiness felt particularly oppressive. Rain had been falling since late afternoon, tapping against the tall windows and turning the gardens beyond them into little more than dark shapes behind the glass. The curtains had been drawn, the fire was burning steadily in the grate, and dozens of candles hovered above the table, their flames reflected in the polished silver and crystal. It should have been a warm room, but somehow it never quite felt that way.

Hesperia sat between Cassian and Leopold, her two brothers, with one hand resting loosely beside her plate as she tried not to listen to the conversation taking place further down the table. She had been attempting to concentrate on her dinner, but her father's voice carried too easily across the room, and Aloysius had a habit of asking questions that encouraged him to continue.

"Father, what was it that you said you told the Ministry last week?" Aloysius asked.

Edmund cut another piece of meat before answering, apparently in no hurry to return to the conversation. "That the Wizengamot is becoming too willing to overlook the families who have kept the magical community running for generations."

Aloysius nodded thoughtfully. He had inherited their father's ability to look deeply interested in subjects Hesperia found painfully repetitive. "And what did they say?"

"They didn't like hearing it."

"They never do," Aloysius complained.

Hesperia lowered her eyes to her plate, hiding the small sigh that escaped her. She had heard some variation of this conversation at least three times over the past fortnight. Her father was convinced that the Ministry was gradually becoming too willing to disregard old families, while Aloysius was always eager to hear precisely how much disagreement their father had managed to cause that week.

"You've already had this conversation," Hesperia said.

Aloysius glanced towards her from the other end of the table. "Not this one."

"Yes, this one."

"It's about the Ministry this time."

"That doesn't make it different."

Cassian, sitting beside her, made a quiet sound that might have been a laugh. Hesperia looked sideways at him and found him studying his plate with suspicious concentration, though the corner of his mouth was twitching. She nudged his ankle beneath the table, earning a quick glance in her direction before he took another drink from his glass.

Edmund seemed to decide that the Ministry had received enough attention for one evening. He set down his knife and turned towards Leopold instead. "How are you feeling about your NEWTs?"

Leopold looked up from his dinner with the same calm expression he seemed to wear regardless of what was happening around him. "Fine."

Hesperia glanced at him. That answer was very much like Leopold. He could be asked almost anything and somehow manage to make the entire subject sound entirely unremarkable.

"Your results came in this morning," Eulalia reminded him, reaching for the serving dish in front of her. "You haven't even looked at them."

"I know."