Broken || h.s. AU (old version)

Chapter 17- Broken Glass

Aunt Jane eventually comes in, speaking up cheerfully behind us. "Oh, my! You all have gotten so much done! Don't mind me, I'm just coming in for the broom." She smiles at the two of us, rushing over to reach behind the fridge as she pulls out a tattered broom.

As she begins to walk out of the room, her eyes land upon the piles of trash bags in the corner. She tsks, shaking her head as she turns back to face us. "Haz, love, would you mind taking out those bags?"

I shake my head, dipping my hands under the running water to free myself of the suds of soap. I dry my hands on the washcloth, walking over to the pile of trash bags. But I see something on top that stops me in my tracks.

Theres a photograph, crinkled and partially hanging out of the frame. Shattered glass pokes through the thin plastic. But its not the sight that catches me off guard.

It's the photo.

It's Diana.

My Diana.

The girl in the photograph has a tanner skin tone, dotted with freckles and her eyes are a bit darker, her eyelashes not as long. But it is definitely my Diana. A voice rings in my ears, sounding hollow. "Haz?" I finally can make out.

"Huh?" I respond numbly and I can hear how dazed I sound. "Are you gonna get the trash?" Aunt Jane asks, confused. I turn, looking back at the blonde woman who's regarding me with her lavender eyes. "Diana?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. She bites her bottom lip with a confused smile. "Yes?"

I point a finger at the crumpled picture, finding it more difficult to keep my voice sounding normal. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help but notice, the um..picture. Who's she...?" Something sinks in her lavender eyes and her smile slips for a moment.

I've said the wrong thing.

My eyes flicker to Aunt June for help, but shes watching Diana with a frown, brows furrowed in concern. I look back to the blonde woman, my stomach already sinking as I see her gaze fall to her hands. "That uh.. That was my daughter Julia..." I notice the past tense and everything inside of me freezes.

I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out. She continues quieter, her hands raking through her light hair "She um.. She passed away last month.. A fire started in our study.."

I can't make myself say anything. I just listen to her in shocked silence. She smiles slightly, shaking her head as she continues to talk

"She would always lay on the floor in there and read and read all day... She was in love with the old Shakespeare books.. I'd come in to tell her dinner was ready and I'd see her asleep on the floor book in hand..." Her smile slips away and my heart sinks deeper for the poor woman.

"One day she fell asleep and the lamp caught on the curtains, then on the rugs and so on... Trapped under a beam... Luckily she.. she um.. smoke inhalation.. Besides the burn on her stomach she shouldn't have felt a thing..."

And suddenly, it clicked.

"She burned herself with the curling iron... She's gotta really bad fear of fire..." The younger boy smacks her on the arm, communicating something important with his eyes. "Alice!" He hisses quietly at her. She looks back at Diana, frowning. After a moment she meets my eyes "Just trust me, Harry... She has reason..."

I push her my top a few inches, a startled gasp escaping my lips as I look at the scar crossing her stomach, a strangely linear shape. A thick, severe burn.

"Diana, you're adopted.. What happened to your family?" She falls silent, watching me. I keep my eyes locked on hers, curiosity bubbling in my throat. She pauses, swallowing hard as a sad longing builds up in her eyes "We were separated because of a fire..."