Chapter Seventy-Two
Hester House, April 2021
Sonia entered Hester House with hesitation. In the two years she had been home, she hadn't really gone there alone since before she had left, years and years ago...it seemed so long ago, around nine years. Life had settled now, had a routine. Sonia liked her routine.
A few days a week she would look after Maeve while Andrew went to the ministry, or meetings. She wasn't sure what the meetings were for, never asked. Her youngest niece was bright and intelligent, shone from within like a literal star. They read books and went to the single cinema in town, spent hours walking Hester Grounds. Sonia showed Maeve all her hiding spots.
"You know, Papa misses you." Maeve had said one day, jumping a puddle.
Sonia scrunched her brow. "I...but I'm home."
"Not to him." She studied a budding plant. "Ella says you used to spend a lot of time over at ours, playing with us or spending time with Papa. She says you and he would sit shoulder to shoulder, all smushed and silent. For hours."
"I – yeah. We did do that. Since we were kids. Babies even."
As Maeve studied her plant, Sonia thought about what she'd said. It was true; Sonia rarely went to Hester House, or spent time with Andrew. Unless there was a gathering, or a dinner, she avoided her childhood home altogether.
So, when Maeve was playing with a neighbouring magical child, Sonia paid her brother a visit. The house had a lot of new, more modern furniture now, white linen curtains rather than heavy velvet and painted walls instead of aging wallpaper. The books, however, where the same. The foyer, with its direct entry to the rounded library, was less dusty than it had been when Hazel was in charge of the house. She was never really one for housework.
"Andrew?" she called out, her words echoing a little. When Hazel lived here, words tended to get lost in plush carpets or thick velvet something-or-other.
"In the library!" a reply echoed back down to her, and upon entering the library Sonia saw her brother at the top, on the rounded balcony with windows and bench going all the way around. Climbing the spiralling stair at one side, Sonia breathed the dust and sunshine smell deeply. A whiff of lavender. Her mother still lingered, even almost twenty-three years later.
"Hey, what's up?" Andrew put his book aside, grinning. He always looked younger when she showed up, and Sonia had not been the only one who noticed. They were reduced to squabbling kids when together.
"I just wanted to see you."
Andrew looked pleasantly surprised, and removed his reading glasses. His eyes, blue like Winston's, twinkled dangerously. Dangerous, because Sonia recognized that particular twinkle as I wouldn't mind talking about the past.
She sat down beside him, shoving her feet under his thigh. "What've you been up to?"
Holding up a tattered book, he grinned sheepishly. "One of your travel books."
Taking it from him, Sonia thumbed the worn pages gently. "These books were my life."
"I lost you to them regularly." He added, watching her read her own notes, written in the same cramped, rushed handwriting she still had.
They got lost in the room for a few minutes, in the comfort the others presence gave. "I'm sorry." Sonia said, grabbing his hand.
"For what?"
"Everything. The past twenty-three years." She shook her head a little, disappointed with herself. "For shutting you out when we were teenagers, after Mamma died – leaving without saying goodbye."
Andrew swallowed with difficulty. "Sunny..."
Her old nickname made Sonia choke up. "I thought...I don't know, those last few months Mamma was alive where some of the best of my life. The war didn't exist in the bubble she had created for us. And then suddenly she was gone, and I felt so alone – even though I wasn't. I was surrounded by people who loved me, but I just shut down."
Taking her in his arms, Andrew whispered words into her hair, like he used to when they were little. "You made up for it all when you helped Ella."
"She...she told you?"
"Yes, and I can never thank you enough for taking care of my girl." He stroked her hair, and she curled into him. It was like coming home, to Hester House with its flowered wallpaper, heavy curtains and dust. Andrew was an echo of the life they had shared.
"I wish we could have had a father as good as you, as Charlie."
"Mamma was enough."
"She was. Remember when we were little, and we knew we didn't need a father because we had mamma and Winston and Remus, the Weasley's – and then suddenly we lost so many of the people we loved, and you were my life line? I cut that when I left, and I have never been able to forgive myself for that. I never will." Sonia let the words tumble out, and they felt like rocks – a whole riverbed that had been weighing down her heart.
"I forgive you," he whispered. "You should, too."
With his words, Sonia felt her wounds begin to close, felt clean for the first time in years. Andrew had always made her feel that way – reborn, fresh and connected.
"I love you Andy."
"I love you, too Sunny."
Curled, intertwined, a haze of lavender washed over them. It was like a goodnight hug from when they where wee ones, a tap on the head for being naughty or a warm, loving smile when they did something that reminded Hazel of Severus. The Bowen twins were fully connected once more.
A/N: Awwww my babies. My original babies, actually. Wacky. Seems like they were 'squabbling teens' just yesterday. Now they're parents and in their forties and ahhhhh. I threw in some more chapters, so there six left, and an epilogue.
Question: What would you like to see in these last few chapters, which strings should be tied up?
Rose