chapter six.
( 'tis the season )
FURY. The only emotion Ascella could feel at that moment, it sizzled and crackled through her veins, a flush of vexation evident on her prominent cheek bones. She wanted to leave, to run away as far as she could, away from Harry, Hogwarts; she craved to bask in the warmth that came with the Laurent Manor.
Ascella Black was many things, but she certainly wasn't ignorant. If she had been in Harry's shoes, she would have been furious that her last living relative betrayed her parents to Voldemort, leaving her parentless. But Ascella would never want to blame Harry for something that was entirely out of his hands, and when Harry had used her father's fine, wicked actions on earth against her, he had slowly begun to shatter Ascella's already-broken soul.
Because what Harry Potter and Ascella Black weren't aware of, was how Regulus Black had sacrificed his life the night of November 22nd, how he had willing left the two people he loved most in the universe, attempting to save the fate of the Wizarding World and inevitably taking his own life with him. Regulus Black was a fallen soldier, one that many had come to know as a coward. And Regulus was far from a coward.
And, as much as she loathed to admit it, Ascella Lyra Black was very much like her wretched family. Striking grey eyes, aristocratic features, and curls of raven hair, Ascella was just like every other member that proudly (or, in some cases, unproudly) that held the Black family surname. Bellatrix Black, Narcissa Black, Andromeda Black, Sirius Black, Regulus Black; it didn't matter, each one of them had been poisoned with the curse of Black, venom dripping amongst their crimson blood, tainted with darkness. Before long, it would be Ascella's turn, and the population of the Wizarding World were itching to know the outcome of Ascella.
Ascella was grateful that the Hogwarts Express was departing from Hogsmeade the next morning, as the young Black couldn't bare to look at Harry, to be reminded of what he had said to her in a fit of rage. As Ascella roamed the isolated Hogwarts halls, having returned on her lonesome, she found that she couldn't face the Gryffindor Common Room, so she swiftly turned on her heels and headed the opposite direction.
It was late, the glistening constellations settled themselves comfortably in the inky sky, emitting a glow of faint silver across the grounds of Hogwarts that went on for acres. Mumbling the answer to the riddle, Ascella tentatively stepped into the Ravenclaw Common Room, her vision instantly turning cobalt. Rickety bookcases held various books with tea-stained pages, old stories written within them, desperate to be read. A few students lingered, some finishing off work, whilst others quietly read or chatted amongst one another, a small fire, charmed a sharp blue shade, blazed brightly.
Ascella headed up the stairs to the girls dormitories, knocking lightly once she reached the door for the third-year girls room. The door swung open, a flustered Estelle Sinclair revealed on the other side, her warm eyes wide with shock. Her brunette ringlets were tied into a bun at the nape of her neck, a few curls framing her sculptured face. A Ravenclaw jumper hung loosely from her frame, a small pair of baby-pink shorts just noticeable beneath her knitted jumper, fluffy socks resting on her feet.
"Ascella?" Estelle asked, her velvet voice quiet in attempt to not wake the other girls in the room. "What're you doing here?"
Ascella sheepishly glanced down, fiddling with her fingers, picking at the pastel purple nail polish Hermione had applied the week before. "Can I stay here tonight?"
Estelle's hazel eyes softened, and she opened the door wider, stepping out of the way slightly, "Course you can."
Merely ten minutes later, Ascella laid next to Estelle, her pale blue, unruly curls tickling Estelle's chin. Estelle had kindly given Ascella clothes to change into, another jumper with an eagle emblem stitched onto it that instantly warmed Ascella's ice cold body. Ascella winced when she caught her appearance in the mirror, she looked ( in simpler terms ) dead. Blue lips, blood-shot eyes that held no emotion — just vast emptiness — and her skin almost as white as the snow that coated the grounds. She thought how much she must of terrified Estelle when she appeared outside of the dormitories, looking as ghastly as she had.
"What happened, Ella?" Estelle queried into the darkness, her fingers tangled in Ascella's hair, the way Ascella's had been in her hair not too long ago. "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to."
Ascella sighed, and turned slightly, her tired eyes meeting Estelle's, "It's just Harry. He said some . . . not very nice things."
"Like what?" pressed Estelle, not wanting to come across insensitive, but she couldn't but be curious. Harry Potter and Ascella Black were two peas in a pod, one hardly seen without the other. It was unusual, for the both of them not to be on speaking terms with each other, and it intrigued Estelle as to why that was.
Ascella proceeded to tell Estelle of the disastrous afternoon, trusting the Ravenclaw witch to not spill to anyone about the existence of the Marauders Map. Reliving the situation, Ascella thought, felt like a heavy weight was being pressed onto her chest, restricting her breathing and crushing her lungs. She loathed the thought of retelling the harsh and cruel interaction her and Harry had, but she wanted — no, needed to tell someone what had occurred.
"That's horrible," Estelle sympathised with a small gasp, her dainty fingers rubbing small circles into Ascella's shoulders. "But, you know, Harry's just angry, Elle, he doesn't really mean it. I see the way he looks at you, like your the only thing that matters to him. He'll get over his anger — he probably already has, if I'm honest — and you'll go back to being the best of friends."
Ascella felt her cheeks heat up with a blush, thankful for the darkness that engulfed the two young witches. "Loving the enthusiasm, Stell," she chuckled, and Estelle shrugged.
"I'm attempting the whole 'glass half-full' type of lifestyle now," she said with a small, mischievous smile.
"Maybe I should try that too," Ascella muttered, her eyes facing the small stars that shone from the window outside of them, contemplating the life she faced in days — or years — to come.
❦
Steam from the train flowed through Ascella's hair as she stepped off the train at Kings Cross Station, her eyes eagerly searching the platform for her mother. She had bid goodbye to Hermione and Ron the morning she was due to leave, avoiding Harry completely ( not that he was looking for her ). For the duration of the nine hours, Ascella sat with Rosalie, who was dreading going home and facing the wrath of her mother — whatever she had done, Ascella didn't quite want to ask.
"Ascella!" a voice called out her name, and Ascella whirled around to where the direction of voice. Her face lit up with joy when she spotted her mother, a small smile painted across her lips. Grabbing her trunk, Ascella bounded towards Seraphina, her arms wrapping around her neck in a tight hug, exhaling a breath of solace.
"I missed you, Mum," Ascella mumbled into Seraphina's golden locks, the nostalgic jasmine scent wafting from her curls, and Seraphina chuckled lightly.
"I missed you too, mon cherie," said Seraphina, pulling back from the hug and cupping Ascella's face with her gentle hands. "Now, let's get home, shall we?"
The Laurent Manor never failed to bring a beam of bliss to Ascella's face, just the sight of the home managing to brighten Ascella's eyes in joy and relief. Everything inside the Manor reflected the two people who resided there, not the pristine marble walls and glistening interior that the Laurent Manor used to appear as many centuries ago. Jackets were messily thrown over old armchairs, sweetly scented candles scattered around the house, burning fervently, and pictures of Seraphina when she was younger, and Ascella as a baby placed on walls and mantelpieces, giving the Manor a more welcoming feel to it.
Sighing in fatigue, Ascella collapsed onto one of the many velvet sofas in the front room, her eyes shut, her head leaned back against head of the sofa. Seraphina shook her head in mirth, idly trailing after her daughter, placing her trunk ( that was rather empty, Ascella didn't see the point in bringing much home ) at the foot of the door.
"Would you like something to eat?" she asked, and Ascella peeled an eye open, stormy silver facing Seraphina.
"No, I'm good, thank you, though," Ascella dismissed, and Seraphina frowned momentarily, before brushing it away quickly.
"Well," Seraphina began, placing herself next Ascella on the sofa, "on Christmas, we're going to the Burrow, as usual, I know Ron won't be there, but Charlie and Bill are coming home."
"They are?" Ascella perked up, sitting up sharply. Bill and Charlie, just like the rest of the Weasleys, were older brothers that Ascella looked up to, brothers she never had.
Seraphina nodded, and a small smile graced Ascella's features. It was silent for a moment, before Ascella looked up again.
"What about uncle Pierre?" she asked. Seraphina faltered, it had been a while since she had spoken with her elder brother, Pierre Laurent never being the type of brother to reach out first. He may be a busy man, but Pierre hardly made any effort to visit his niece, but it wasn't like Seraphina was too eager to speak with her brother either.
"I'm sorry, Elle," apologised Seraphina, a guilty expression portrayed on her face as Ascella's shoulders slumped in disappointment. "I haven't spoken with Pierre for a while . . . though, seeing as it's Christmas, I'll send him a letter."
"Thanks, Mum," Ascella said in gratitude. "I miss him."
"Yeah, I miss him too," Seraphina murmured, her head lowered slightly in regret, wishing she had made more of an effort with her brother. She shook her head, inhaling deeply and glancing back up to her daughter with a joyful look.
"Shall we make cookies?"
❦
Flour, egg yolk, sugar, you name it, it covered the marble counter tops as Ascella and Seraphina placed the pan into the oven, both impatient as ever and dreading having to wait the twenty minutes or so until they were ready. Soft flour was dusted across Ascella's freckle-splattered nose, cookie dough stuck to her pale skin and some even under her fingernails.
Ascella giggled loudly as Seraphina had a smearing of flour over her cheek and melted chocolate across her rose-tinted lips, and she let out a breath of relaxation. It was never simple when it came to the mother-daughter duo, the dramatics in their genes made it much harder to make things easier.
"We'd better clean this all up. I can just imagine my parent's faces if they were to see all this mess," Seraphina commented, lips turned up in a small smile.
Ascella's lips quirked up, leaning on her palms as she watched Seraphina waved her wand and magically made the mess of ingredients fade away. "Want some help?" Ascella asked, Seraphina shaking her head in dismissal.
"No, it's okay — Ascella! Your hand!" Seraphina's frightened yell startled Ascella, causing her to yank her hand up from whatever the source of the problem was.
"What? What is it?" Ascella asked, examining her hand that was blemish free, confusion etched onto her face as she glanced up at Seraphina's wide alarmed, eyes.
"You had it in the fire! Did you not feel it?" Seraphina informed her, grabbing Ascella's hand and eyeing it in scepticism. Ascella peered over to the blazing stove, amber fire blossoming from it.
"No, I didn't . . ." she murmured, bewildered. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at her hand, that looked exactly the same as it did moments previous, no burn marks or red hues appearing.
"Are you okay, Elle?" Seraphina asked, noticing Ascella's bemused manner, her eyes glinting in concern.
"Yeah, course I am!" Ascella attempted to reassure Seraphina, who saw straight through her facade. "Maybe I didn't have it in the fire? Maybe my hand was just next to it."
Ascella was convinced that she didn't have her hand on the scorching fire, because it simply couldn't be possible. She couldn't have had her hand there, because she would have some sort of burn mark, or at least her skin would begin to flame up slightly. Yet, it hadn't? Seraphina, on the other hand, wasn't as persuaded. She had saw, with her own two eyes, Ascella's hand placed in the fire, engulfing it completely. It wasn't next to it, it was in it. A sense of reminiscence flowed through the Laurent, a bitter memory she had wished to forget rushing back towards her.
"I'm going upstairs, if that's alright?" Ascella asked Seraphina, who was perplexed at her sudden shift in mood. Seraphina blinked a few times, before nodding.
"Yes, of course it is. I'll bring you something up to eat later," she said, and Ascella smiled gratefully, before dashing away quickly. Skipping steps as she headed up the spiral staircases, her chest heaving somewhat. She kept going, completely missing the floor that held her bedroom, and made her way to the loft. Quietly opening the door in order for it not to creak, she slipped inside, clicking the light bulb on.
Boxes upon boxes were stacked inside the crammed loft, spilling out with old relics and memories of Seraphina's childhood and teenage years. Old, silk dresses that Seraphina would be dolled up in as a teen, photos that held wistful reminders of the times spent as a child, and secrets that Seraphina was eager to keep locked away.
Shuffling her way past the cardboard boxes, Ascelle approached the back of the loft, were she began to search through them for something special. She had made the decision for Christmas to give her mother a framed photo of her two friends from many years back. Ascella thought it would be a nice thing to give Seraphina, a reminder of her friends that she had so tragically lost.
Reaching her hand down deep into the box, Ascella recovered an envelope of various photos. She flicked through them, smiling at the sight of her mother so young and carefree, untarnished from the weight of the war that plagued them so terribly so.
Ascella's eyebrows furrowed together when she reached the back of the envelope, picking out the final photo. She stared at it, stunned at the contents of the old, wrinkled photograph. Seventeen-year-old Seraphina Laurent was facing the camera with the features of someone Ascella would have seen in those Muggle magazines that Lavender and Parvati had, her blonde hair cascaded over her chest with glass of, what looked like, firewhiskey being held in her hand. A boy with shaggy, raven hair and warm hazel eyes that were hidden behind his rectangle-framed glasses, muttered something to Seraphina, who erupted into a fit of giggles. Another boy, with wavy, raven hair that flowed to just above his shoulders, and stormy silver irises, that were an exact replica of Ascella's, reached over to shove the other boy and held a grin of mischief on his lips. Next to him, a boy with a scarred face and honey curls shook his head in amusement and slight exasperation, whilst the other boy wasn't even facing the direction of the camera. Ascella flipped the photo over, reading the words on the back.
James, Sirius, Remus, Peter & Seraphina: Slughorn's Christmas party, 1977.
"Holy shit," breathed Ascella, astonished at the contents of the old photograph. It was no wonder it had been hidden in the back of the loft, Seraphina had clearly been desperate to disclose the contents of it.
Ascella folded up the photo, stuffed it in her pocket and grabbed another photograph from the envelope, one of Seraphina with her two best friends. She manoeuvred through the boxes, wincing when she accidentally knocked into one with her hip and caused it to fall and clatter to the ground with a loud thud.
"Ascella!" Seraphina's worried yell reached her from the front room, "is everything okay?"
"Er — Yes! Everything's fine! I just — um — knocked over a book!" Ascella called back, frozen in the spot she was in.
"Oh, okay, then!" Seraphina shouted, before it went silent. Ascella released a breath of relief, and rapidly made her way to the door, turning off the light, and closing the door tentatively. She headed back down the stairs, walking in the direction of her bedroom. The Laurent manor was anything but small, with many towering stories and Ascella's bedroom was located on the third floor. Pale blue sheets were lazily thrown across her king-sized bed, curtains that matched the same shade of the bed sheets, and a huge door that lead to a terrace, the outline of the coast of France breathtaking, especially as the sun set in a whirlwind of yellows, oranges and reds. It used to be Seraphina's room, but Ascella had taken it as she gotten older, and she loved it. Plants ( that were charmed to stay alive, Ascella could hardly look after herself, how on earth could she keep a plant alive? ) rested on mantelpieces, tall-paned windows that allowed the sun to flutter through in the early hours of the morning, and books that had once belonged to Seraphina rested in wooden bookcases comfortably.
The Laurent house elf, Binky, who had been in the Laurent family for generations, had brought up Ascella's trunk, alongside her leather jacket, that was adorned with pins and badges. Ascella opened up her trunk, rummaging through it, before finding the small opening at the bottom, where she shoved the photo of her mother and the four other boys into it, grabbing her wand and sealing it tightly. She rubbed her face tiredly, before closing her trunk fully (that she had covered with stickers and drawings, some her and Ron had done ) and fell onto her warm bed.
The sound of apparition startled Ascella, pulling her from the state of sleep she was beginning to drift into. A small, ditsy house elf stood in front of Ascella, wringing her hands around the pillowcase that covered her. Seraphina had once attempted to give Binky clothes, but Binky had seen it as a sign of dismissal, and begun to panic, bursting into a state of tears and punishing herself, thinking she had done something wrong. Seraphina was quick to reassure Binky that she had done nothing wrong, but she just wanted her to feel more pleasant at the manor. Binky was stubborn, though, and refused to wear any clothes apart from the pillowcase.
"Miss Black is has returned!" exclaimed Binky excitedly, flinging her bony arms around Ascella's waist, who had stood up to greet Binky. "Binky has missed Miss Black very, very much!"
Ascella giggled quietly, rubbing Binky on the back. "Hi, Binky. How are you?"
"Binky is very well, Miss Black!" she said happily. "It has been very quiet since you have been gone, Binky finds herself cleaning the same things over and over again!"
"You know, you can call me Ascella, if you'd like," Ascella offered, sitting on the edge of the bed, Binky next to her.
"Oh, no, no," Binky shook her head, looking outraged. "Binky must not call Miss Black by her first name, it's not right. Binky must always call you Miss Black."
"As long as you're sure? I don't mind," said Ascella.
"Yes, I'm sure, Miss Black!" she insisted, and Ascella chuckled lightly, watching in mirth as Binky jumped down from the bed. "How is you, Miss Black?"
Ascella sighed, her eyes meeting Binky's large emerald-green ones, flashing her a small smile. Ascella wasn't fine, she knew that, but was she willing to pour her heart out to someone, even if it was her family house elf? Of course not, because Ascella, being Ascella, had a tendency to hide away her emotions inside her mind, the key to unlock them unknown.
"I'm fine, Binky," she replied, a tight-lipped smile on her features. "Thank you for asking."
"Miss Black doesn't look fine," Binky commented, frowning at Ascella, who faltered slightly at her comment. Binky was right — Ascella's appearance had changed since the summertime; her sparkling, silver eyes had dulled, her skin was pale, pale to the point where she looked ill, and her cheekbones were much more defined than they already were.
"I appreciate your concern, Binky, but really, I'm fine," Ascella persisted, ignoring the churning feeling that was swirling in her stomach.
"If you say so!" cried Binky, jumping down from the bed. "Binky must go and help Mistress Laurent for dinner now!"
"Binky, I'm sure mum is okay on her own —"
"Miss. Black must not be late for dinner or else Binky will be very, very sad!" said Binky, before apparating away. Ignoring the evident manipulation from a house-elf, sleep overcame Ascella the moment her head touched the pillow.
❦
The winter days leading up to Christmas day itself were spent relaxing beneath warm, fuzzy blankets with scorching cups of hot chocolate and spending as much time together as they could before Ascella was due to return to Hogwarts.
On Christmas morning, Ascella and Seraphina sat before the Christmas tree, opening presents. Seraphina, pretending she hadn't, shed a few tears when she had opened one of her gifts from Ascella. A photo of Nico Fitzgerald and Serenity Avalon on Christmas 1975, eighteen years ago to the day. They were all smiling, so undeniably happy, that Ascella's lips couldn't help but turn up into a small smile.
"Thank you, Elle," Seraphina thanked in appreciation, sniffling slightly. "I . . . it's lovely. Really. Now, let me give you yours!"
Taking the box from Seraphina's hands, she tore off the wrapping paper, her pink lips parted in shock. A record player, the one that Ascella had mentioned to Seraphina in passing months prior, rested in her hands in all its glory.
"How did you remember?" Ascella asked, in awe of how her mother picked up on tiny details Ascella tells her.
"I notice these things, you know," Seraphina responded with a sly smile, and Ascella wrapped her slender arms around Seraphina's neck, muttering her thanks repeatedly.
"We'd better get ready to get to the Burrow," Seraphina said, pulling Ascella up from the floor by her hands, "Molly wants us there by twelve!" Ascella made her to her room, jumping in the shower immediately, rinsing her hair and body thoroughly. Applying a bit of a makeup, Ascella dressed into a casual, warm clothes to protect her from the icy breeze outside. Clad in a red and gold, knitted jumper, a black skirt that fell to her mid thighs, opaque tights and her new, black converse, the ones Seraphina had gotten her, the laces tied into dainty bows. The silver locket that Seraphina had gifted her rested on her chest, having not left her neck since she had clasped it together.
Jumping the last two steps, Ascella spotted her mother, patiently waiting for her, dressed in a soft dress, patterns of mistletoe stitched into it. Seraphina smiled up at Ascella, her blonde curls resting on her chest.
"Don't you look lovely," Seraphina complimented, her finger tracing the chain of the metal locket, a reminiscent gleam in her eyes. Noticing her wistful look, Ascella hesitantly asked:
"Mum, why did you give me this? I mean, I love it, of course I do, but . . . dad gave you this. Don't you want it anymore?"
Seraphina sighed deeply, before glancing at Ascella, "Of course I want it, but you should have it now. I've had it for over ten years now, it's high time someone else wears it. And I'm pretty sure Regulus would have wanted you to wear it eventually."
"Well, I love it. It's beautiful. Dad had good taste," Ascella smiled, making her way to the fireplace.
Seraphina chuckled, although thick emotion was evident in her tone, "Yes. He did. The very best."
Ascella grabbed a handful of the soft as silk powder, stepped into the grate and broadly called out the home of the Weasleys. Floo travel may not have been the best way to travel but it was one of the easiest. With her arms tucked neatly beside her body, eyes squeezed shut tightly, Ascella eventually stumbled out of the Burrow's fireplace, releasing a breath of fresh air, and clearing her throat of any soot. Large hands reached out and steadied her, and Ascella brushed away any stray, purple curls from her eyesight.
"Careful there, Elle," teased a grinning Charlie Weasley, his eyes shining playfully. Ascella, once recovered from her flustered state, beamed brightly, wrapping her arms around Charlie's broad shoulders.
" Charles!" she squealed excitedly, Charlie's low rumble of a laughter vibrating her body. He looked the same as he did since Ascella had last seen him; the same auburn curls that flopped over his forehead, burns and scars scattered across his arms from the dragons he worked with in Romania and the familiar, crooked smile that Ascella knew and loved.
"Ascella!" yelled Charlie with just as much enthusiasm, jesting playfully. She glowered at him, punching his shoulder, her eyes scanning the front room of the Burrow. The Burrow was never a silent home, there was always the sound of Fred and George's obnoxious laughter, Ron's petulant whining, or Molly's loud chastising to the twins, usually.
"When did you get here?" Ascella asked, sitting on one of the few sofas. Charlie sat next to her, his legs spread out in front of him.
"A few days back," responded Charlie. "Mum was desperate for me to come home —"
Charlie was cut off by the whooshing of the fireplace and Seraphina stepped out gracefully, brushing down her dress.
"Charlie!" exclaimed Seraphina, wrapping him in a warm hug as Charlie stood up to greet her. "How are you?"
"I'm good, Sera, you?" Charlie replied, and Seraphina smiled comfortingly.
"I'm wonderful, thank you," she said. Charlie was seven when he first met Seraphina Laurent and the young boy in awe of the witch — how she was so young yet so mature, how she was hardly nineteen and with a baby. He admired her, and thought of her as a older sister/aunt, and Ascella Black as a younger sister, like Ginny came to be when she was born, two years after Ascella. When he had first seen Seraphina's daughter, she was tiny thing, with glowing purple hair and stormy eyes, and him and Bill — who were the eldest of the Weasley siblings — promised to look after the little girl who was an identical replica of her father, to not let anyone tear her down.
"Where's your mother?" Seraphina asked, peering around the corner of the front room.
"In the kitchen," answered Charlie. "And — fair warning — she's on a warpath. Fred and George have been pestering her for so long that she finally snapped."
"Ah," nodded Seraphina. "I'd better go and help, shouldn't I?" She planted a chaste kiss on Ascella's forehead, patted Charlie's shoulder warmly, before leaving the room to look for a furious and exasperated Molly Weasley.
"Bill's here," stated Charlie, sitting back down on the sofa. "Karina's with him."
"Rina came too?" asked Ascella. "I haven't seen her in ages."
"Yeah, well, you're not the only one," Charlie remarked, ever-so bitter that his older brother stole his best friend from him.
"Don't pout, Charlie — you'll get frown lines."
A smirking Karina Elliots walked in, her hand interlocked with Bill Weasley's, who always looked like he'd won the lottery with his girlfriend. Karina's brunette, tight ringlets rested on her shoulders and her lips were painted a crimson red shade with various, dangling earrings adorning her ears. Her dark, tanned skin contrasted with the matching, scarlet-coloured dress that accentuated her curves, and her olive-green eyes shone broadly.
"He already does," Ascella quipped and Charlie whacked the back of her head in retaliation.
"Hiya, Elle," greeted Karina, wrapping Ascella in a tender hug, smiling into her curls.
"Hey, Rina," said Ascella. "How you been?"
"I've been good," replied Karina, and Ascella was certain she'd always be struck by Karina's beauty. Hand-crafted by Aprhodite, Ascella was certain.
"How's Clara?" Ascella queried eagerly, thinking of her beloved dragon that resided in Romania. When Ascella was seven, her, Seraphina, and the whole Weasley clan had left for Romania for a week, to visit Charlie. Despite working in Egypt alongside Bill, Karina often ventured to Romania from time to time, working with some magical creature there, seeing as she adored mystical animals. Whilst they were there, one of the elder dragons had given birth to baby dragons, and Charlie had let Ascella and Ron have their own dragon. Ron had named his Giggles ( Ascella never let go of it, continuously teasing him for it ) and Ascella had called her dragon Clara. She had deep, emerald green scales, wings that reached the length of of thirty feet and horns forming from the crown of her head.
Karina let out a soft, melodic laugh. "Great! I think she misses you, though."
"Yeah, I miss her too," there was a pause of silence, the only sound that could be heard was Bill and Charlie's squabbling. Ascella looked up, "How long are you staying for?"
"Just for a few days," replied Karina. "Me and Bill've got to get back to Egypt. Work never stops. How's school?"
Ascella groaned, "It's the holidays! I don't want to talk about school."
Karina chuckled. "Right, well. Go and enjoy your break then. I should go and be a wonderful guest and help Mrs. Weasley and your mum in the kitchen. Be prepared for my amazing cooking skills."
"More like terrible," Bill jested, and Karina rolled her eyes.
"I can hardly wait," Ascella answered sarcastically, and with a sly wink, Karina sauntered out of the front room.
"I'm off to see the twins and Ginny," she told Bill and Charlie, who both glanced down at her. "Lovely to see you, William, as always."
Walking up the creaking steps of the Burrow, Ascella made her way to Fred and George's room, eyeing the jumpers that were thrown across banisters and prank supplies that the twins had lazily left out.
Deciding to sneak up on Fred and George, she secretly slid into their room, their door surprisingly wide open. They were both hunched over a mysterious sheet of paper, muttering to each other quietly.
Approaching their humped figures, she grabbed the back of their necks, yelling loudly, "Boo!"
Both Fred and George let out shrieking screams, jumping at least three feet into the air. They whirled around, gasping for breath.
"Ascella!" hissed George, his cheeks flamed pink. Ascella was doubled over in a fit of laughter at the sight of shock on both Fred and George's faces.
"You scared me half to death!" cried Fred, his hand placed over his heart.
"I'm sorry," apologised Ascella, her hand covering her mouth in an attempt to mask her uncontrollable giggles. "But I couldn't help myself."
"Yeah, well, don't do it again," grumbled George, turning back to the secret sheet of parchment, intrigued.
"What're you two up to?" she asked, peering over their shoulders, and Fred made an attempt to shield it.
"Piss off, Ascella!" Fred yelled, and a look of offence crossed across Ascella's face.
"That's rather rude, Fredrick," she feigned indignation. "I thought we were friends!"
Fred and George exchanged a glance, before sighing simultaneously. "Alright, fine," said George. "Mum said me and Fred can't order anything from Zonko's so we're doing it secretly."
Ascella laughed, her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "And you thought you couldn't tell me that? I wouldn't tell your mum."
"Yeah, course we know that," said George. "But, we were wondering if we could send it to your house? Mum'll go mad at us if she finds out."
Ascella thought for a moment, a look of thought evident on her face. She then answered, smirking, "Only if you get me some dungbombs."
"Deal," synchronised Fred and George almost instantly, and Ascella grinned brightly.
"Brilliant!" she exclaimed, jumping off the edge of the desk, where she was sat. "Now, tell me where Miss Ginerva is. I haven't had spoken to her in awhile."
"In her room," Fred told her, turning back around.
"Alrighty then," she said. "See you boys later." Shutting the door behind her, she skipped up the steps to Ginny's room, flinging the door open and spotting the red locks of Ginny Weasley, sat comfortably on her soft duvet, reading Witch Weekly.
"Ginerva, my love!" exclaimed Ascella, startling Ginny at first, but then grinned in amusement after. "Oh, how I have missed you!"
"Ascella, my dear," said Ginny with just as much ardour. "Nothing can compare to how my heart has yearned for you."
Ascella laughed loudly, laying down dramatically on Ginny's bed, who tried to shove her off in a playful manner. Ascella gasped, snatching the magazine from Ginny's grasp.
"Merlin, you read this shit?" she asked incredulously, flicking through the pages with a scoff.
"What? It can be interesting. You don't?" defended Ginny, pushing her long mane of auburn hair over her shoulder.
"I used to," responded Ascella, her head propped up on her hand, the metal rings digging in, almost painfully, to the side of her head, "but mum told me to stop when they wrote that she was moving to America to get married to some famous bachelor of some sorts. Side note, there was no famous bachelor. And, anyway, mum would never get married. At least not to the man she wanted to . . ."
Ginny laughed, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of the article, but missing the underlying sadness in Ascella's tone. She had always wondered why Seraphina had never met another person, Ascella certainly wouldn't have been bothered, her mother's happiness came first for her. It wasn't until Seraphina told her that she couldn't date anyone else, because, despite him being dead, Seraphina's loyalties always laid with Regulus. She would never betray him like that, in spite of knowing that Regulus would want her to be happy.
"Anyway" said Ascella, pushing away the sadness and grinning broadly at Ginny. "How've you been?"
Ginny's smile faded away, her fingers fumbling together in nervousness. Ascella frowned at Ginny's strange behaviour, distress settling in her bones.
"Gin?" she said softly, quietly. "Is everything alright?"
"Well, yes, I think? I just — I need to speak to someone about something," she began sheepishly, stumbling over her words ( which was extremely unlike Ginny, who was usually very confident ).
"You can always speak to me, you know that, right?" Ascella reassured, her cold fingers brushing over Ginny's knuckles, in a way intended to soothe the girl. Ginny nodded, and Ascella smiled encouragingly.
"I know I'm only young for thinking things like this, but I think I've known for awhile now, if I'm honest," she took a deep breath, composing herself. "I think I — um — like girls?"
"Ginny," Ascella laughed lightly, embracing the younger girl in a tight hug. "You don't have to worry about telling me things like that. I'm into girls too! As well as boys, but still. You can always speak to me."
Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank Merlin that's off my chest. I knew you would understand, though. I was just working myself up about nothing."
"Does anyone else know?" Ascella asked, looking up into Ginny's coffee-coloured eyes. Ginny shook her head.
"No, no one else," she said. "I mean, it's not that I'm scared, or anything to tell them. It's just, I don't think I'm ready yet."
"And that's fine," Ascella nodded in understanding. A teasing look appeared on her face, and she lightly poked Ginny in the cheek. "So . . . who d'you fancy? C'monnnnn, tell me."
A red hue appeared on Ginny's normally pale cheeks. "No one! Merlin, Ascella."
"You sure about that? I can see that blush," laughed Ascella, and Ginny swatted away her hands with a small, embarrassed smile on her face.
"Alright, alright!" she gave in. "She's in your year and she's very pretty and rather sarcastic."
Ascella's eyes rose in curiosity, yet she didn't pry, knowing Ginny needed to keep her secrets. "Okay . . . I'm extremely eager to know who this mystery girl is. But, I won't probe. However, I will looking out for a very pretty and sarcastic girl in my year."
"Good luck trying to find her," said Ginny, getting up as Molly Weasley called for them both to head downstairs. "Come on, let's go before mum loses it. Again."
Dinner, as always, was a joyful affair. Molly and Arthur, who saw Ascella as one of their own, greeted her with an affectionate hug, planted a Weasley jumper in her hands, a knitted A in a soft, midnight blue shade. Laughter could be heard from each end of the table, jokes being shared, drinks being sloppily spilt and delicious food gone in minutes. Ascella's cheeks were aching from wearing her biggest smile, and she couldn't help but think how much brighter her grin would be if she had Ron in front of her, Hermione next to him and Harry sat beside her, their fingers discreetly interlocked together in solace.
After goodbyes had been exchanged and hugs had ensued, using the floo network, Seraphina and Ascella retired home, fatigue evident in their movements. Placing a kiss on Ascella's forehead, Seraphina tiredly headed to bed, and Ascella watched as her mother walked up the spiral staircase and eventually out of sight.
Rather than going to her room, Ascella went to the kitchen and sat upon one of the chairs, summoning a quill, parchment and ink, and leaning over it. She wasn't sure on what to say, so instead she chose to let her hand just write, rather than overthinking.
Dear Harry,
I'm not entirely sure on what to say, but it is Christmas, so I thought I'd write you a letter. I hope you're having a nice time at school! Christmas is always fun there, isn't it? I had a great night too, Bill and Charlie came back, along with Karina, Bill's girlfriend. You've never met Karina, have you? She's really cool, and very pretty as well.
I'm probably the last person you want to hear from, which is shown in your lack of letters ( understandable, of course ) but I do hope that when I return we can resolve our differences. You were angry, and I had no right to argue with you, so I apologise. Maybe you meant what you said about my dad, maybe you didn't, but it doesn't matter now. What's said is said.
I miss you. Very much. And I hope you miss me too, otherwise this is rather awkward. Regardless of what happened and what was revealed that day, I do hope we can continue on as we were before everything, because not speaking to you these past few weeks have, quite literally, killed me. I can't imagine not speaking to you for this long ever again.
Merry Christmas, Harry.
l̶o̶v̶e̶ from, Ascella.
hey babes !! how are we all ?? i wanted to get this out a lot earlier but school is literally tiring me out and i have no free time after school so i deeply apologise. i hope you have a wonderful day / night and i'll see you next time !
published — september 30th, 2021
edited — june 14th, 2024