Surviving in Harmony

Chapter Twenty-Eight | Ivy House, January 2007

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ivy House, January 2007

The scent of lavender hung in the air, snow fell outside; tears dropped onto an old photo album.

In the window seat looking over her garden Sonia hugged the book to her chest, rocking back and forth. Her spine bumped against the wall each time, but she didn't care; she wanted everyone back.

Every person who she lost to war, hatred, love - she wanted them back. It killed her knowing Sirius and Charlie would have gotten along fabulously, that Hazel and Max would have been such good friends. Remus would adore Andrew's children; he would be their grandfather. Fred would have been an amazing Uncle to all the Weasley's coming into the world.

"Damn it." She hit her fist against the windowsill and wiped her eyes furiously. She still hated crying, hated how quiet and routine her life had become. Clean, read, take Max to school four days a week, cook, take Andrew's kids for two afternoons. She was so normal.

Why did it upset her so much? It was all Andrew had ever wanted, everything Hazel had wished for them - and she was too selfish to accept it.

Putting the album down, she went upstairs. She was fully dressed, ready to go - to leave, no goodbyes. Max could grow up well with Charlie, Andrew and Amara watching over him.

Creaking open Max's door, she sees her little boy sleeping. He was still so little. Closing it gently, Sonia went down the hall into her own bedroom were her husband slept, completely unaware of what she was considering.

"Charlie?" she whispered, shaking him slightly.

"Hmmm...why are you dressed?" he mumbled, searching blindly for her hand. "Is Max okay?"

"He's fine." She reassured him, taking his hand in both of hers. "I was out for a walk."

Charlie chuckled and tugged her arm. "Come back to bed, it's the middle of the night."

"I know." Sonia whispered. "Best time for walking."

"You're crazy."

"Isn't that why you love me?" she retorted with a smile, peeling off her clothes and climbing in beside him.

"Hmmhmm." Charlie nuzzled her neck, eyes still closed. "My crazy, crazy lady. How I love you...love you." He mumbled, drifting off once more.

Wrapped in Charlie's arms, Sonia thought about all those years ago, in this very bed, when she swore she wouldn't leave, that she loved them too much.

But what if she was wrong?

With the morning came another round of saying goodbye to Charlie, another breakfast to make - another day exactly like the one before it.

"See you tonight," Charlie said, kissing her cheek. "Bye Maxxie!"

"Bye Daddy!" Max called from the other room, where he was drawing at the dining room table. His inspiration was a split open pea pod from Winston.

Charlie was gone quickly, disappearing in a plume of green smoke in the fireplace. Sonia was just giving Max his breakfast when a polite voice emitted from the fireplace.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt, the ministry of Magic requests entrance to your home." It reported.

Wiping her hands on a dishtowel and throwing it over her shoulder, Sonia entered the living room. "Entry granted."

Seconds later Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped out of Sonia's floo, dusting off his shoulders. "Good morning Mrs. Weasley."

"It's Bowen." She reminded him.

"Ah, yes - right. How is your little boy?"

"I'm well!" Max spoke up, peeking around the doorway.

"Hullo Maxwell!" Kingsley waved.

"Morning Minister." Said Max shyly, ducking back around the corner in glee.

Kingsley chuckled. "He's a lovely boy, Mrs. Bowen."

"Kingsley, you've known me forever. I don't call you minister, just - just call me Sonia, honestly." She sighed and waved her hand at the comfortable, mix-matched furniture. "Take a seat and tell me what's going on." Kingsley sat and Sonia lifted her wand. "Tea?"

"Yes please, sugar too if you don't mind."

With a flick of her wand the tea floated into the room and poured itself, and Sonia settled into her favourite high backed armchair, tucking her feet beneath her. "So what's this about? Still want me to tell the ministry all about my cuckoo mother?"

Kingsley shook his head sadly. "Really Sonia, you can forget that. It was insensitive for me to ask that of you, so shortly after the war and Max's birth. So no, it's not about that job - it's about another."

Sonia sat back in her chair. "Another job?"

"Yes. I have connections at the Prophet. They want you to write a column."

"Seriously?" Sonia gaped at him. "My own column?"

"I know you liked to write as a teenager, that you were fairly good - the Prophet is willing to give you a shot. You can write about whatever you want, every Thursday and Sunday your pieces will appear in the paper." Kingsley smiled, a little cheekily even. "You look pleased Sonia."

"I am!" she cried. "That's amazing Kingsley, thank you - whatever I want, really?"

"Whatever you wish." He repeated, standing. "Your first piece is due Saturday evening. Good luck."

Sonia stood too. "Thank you, Kingsley."

"Your mother would be very proud of you," Kingsley said softly. "I always liked her...everyone liked her. She was - well, Hazel was the bravest woman I ever met." He shook her hand, tears in his eyes. "And the kindest. Never met anyone who cared more about their children than her."

Sonia nodded, throat suddenly tight. "Than you Kingsley. She...she was..."

Kingsley nodded knowingly, then spotted Max behind Sonia's shoulder. "You have a wonderful mother, Maxwell. You are very lucky."

Max ran up and hid behind Sonia, grasping her robes in his fist. "I know." He said, smiling diffidently up at him. "She's the best Mamma in the world."

"She learned from the best." Kingsley looked kindly upon Sonia's son, seeing Hazel in his eyes so clearly - he truly missed his old friend, as many did. "Goodbye Sonia, good luck."

"Thank you." Sonia said again. Kingsley stepped into the fireplace and was gone, leaving the quiet, cozy cottage for the vast ministry.

"What did the minister want Mamma?" asked Max.

"He..." saved me. "Gave me a job."

"Can I help?" Max asked excitedly, jumping up and down. "Please Mamma?"

"Sure babe," Sonia ruffled his curls. "You can help." Leading her son back to the kitchen, Sonia knew she couldn't leave - not yet.

A/N: It always feel so weird to write the date 20__ instead of 19__. Just so weird. Dunno why. Feels a bit wrong.

My apologies for the lack of updates -- exams are flooding me. I've barely done anything but study and sleep for a week. I wish I was exagerating.

Question: What would you all like for Christmas? From Santa and from me - or we can collaborate. We're buds.

It could be a video, a written Q&A, a spin off.

Also! I have a short Christmas story called 12 Days of Clementine out. It's a competiton piece for a comp called Frost held by hepburnettes. If you want to enter, there's still time!

If you're also in exams, good luck friends!!

Rose<3