The warm summer sun beat down on my back as I helped my aunt and cousins de-gnome the garden, putting my frustration into every throw. They never went very far though; like I said, I’m no good at sports. Ahead of me I could see the tree house that Uncle Ron and dad had built for my cousins when I was four; I could smell the sweet-pea’s that grow up it and I could hear the faint buzzing of a wasp somewhere nearby.
“The point is to try and throw them over the fence, Daisy,” said Sam, smirking as I threw a rather fat gnome pathetically. I scowled at him as his brother sniggered.
“Boys, not everyone can throw as far as you two. Besides, she did get it over the fence,” said Aunt Hermione, sticking up for me at once. She was right; I had thrown the stupid fat gnome over the fence, just not particularly far over.
“Yeah, but mum, she’s meant to be good at sports, her parents both were-”
“WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK THAT I’M EXACTLY LIKE MY PARENTS!” I stormed off, leaving the stupid prats speechless, a gnome in each hand. I thundered into the kitchen, making strange growling noises in frustration. I can have a very short temper and will often stay in a mood for days, until the person who has upset me apologises.
“Are you angry?” questioned Harriet, studying my face intently, her blue eyes piercing.
“Yes, I am. I’m angry with Sam and Josh.”
“Is that why you were yelling? Are you mad now?” This would have been obvious to anybody else because of the look on my face and my clenched fists, but Harriet can’t read body signals or expressions. She just knows that when someone is angry, they shout, and when someone is upset, they cry.
“Yes. What are you drawing?” I asked, not wanting to try and explain why I was angry.
“A picture.” That’s always her answer. I have to word things exactly right if I want a proper answer.
“What is in your picture?”
“A clickie.” That’s her word for a toaster, because it clicks when the toast is done. Aunt Hermione insists that we have lots of these odd Muggle things when a wand would do the job much quicker and much better. I smile, but then remember that she can’t tell that smiling means I like her picture.
“Your picture is very good, Harriet, I like it a lot.” She nods and goes back to her drawing, shading it in perfectly. She doesn’t acknowledge my sad face as I look at the sister who can never show me love back.
I trudged upstairs to my pale-pink bedroom and lay on my bed, closing my eyes and sighing heavily, trying to calm down. I don’t know how long I lay there, but my mind went back to those few memories I had with my dad in them.
“How old are you today?” he quizzed, grinning down at me as I sat in my bed.
“I’m five!” I squealed with delight as he picked me up and spun around.
“Yes, you are! You’re getting so big that soon you’ll be going to Hogwarts!” I laughed and tugged on his ebony hair. “C’mon, let’s go and wake mummy up and then we can open your presents!” he said, carrying me through to the master bedroom where my mother lay, a smile on her perfectly chiselled face, her slightly-rounded tummy-
“Daisy?” My eyes flickered open and I turned my head to see my aunt coming through the door. I smiled weakly at her.
“What’s wrong, honey? The boy’s were only teasing and they’re very sorry.” Yeah, right, I thought viciously.
“Everyone expects great things from me, but I can’t do great things. I have to stay here and look after mum and Harri,” I said miserably, twisting the corner of my duvet around my finger.
“Oh, dear, you don’t have to stay here-”
“YES I DO!” I yelled, sitting up and trying to make a break for the door. I wanted to be alone; I wanted to sulk for a while. Aunt Hermione held me back calmly.
“Your uncle and I are perfectly capable of taking care of your family, what do you think we’d do, let them fend for themselves?”
“What would you do for money? We’re barely making ends meet as it is.” Aunt Hermione bit her bottom lip and looked away.
“Daisy, it isn’t fair that you should have all this responsibility. Please, go to Hogwarts, Uncle Ron and I will work something out. I can push for a raise on my salary-”
“You already have, twice. They said they’d fire you if you asked again,” I interrupted, sending telepathic death threats to her boss. She continued more firmly.
“-so could Ron. We could use the school fund to get your books and equipment and we could probably sell a couple of things-”
“That’ll only work short-term-”
“-and cut down on buying things we don’t need.” I looked at her and shook my head.
“It will never work.”
“Don’t lose hope, Daisy,” She pleaded. I looked over at my bedside table where there was a framed photograph, taken a week before my father disappeared. In it, my dad has his right hand on my mum’s very pregnant stomach and his left on her shoulder. They’re both smiling and laughing and mum has colour in her cheeks. I’m standing just to the side of mum, my chubby cheeks raised in a smile, squinting at the sun. This photograph doesn’t move. I wanted to capture that precious moment forever and so I refused to allow the film to develop in the potion.
“I haven’t lost hope,” I whispered, looking into my dad’s still face. “What if he’s still alive? We could find him, he’d come back and mum would get better again. We’d get the money and we could get our own house and I could go to Hogwarts and-”
“Daisy, he isn’t coming back. He’s dead,” whispered Aunt Hermione, her chocolate-brown eyes filling up with hot tears.
“But, if a body was never found…” She sighed, and a lonely tear rolled down her cheek.
“No, we know that he’s dead. You know the clock on grandma’s wall? Ever noticed how I’m on it and Aunt Fleur and Angie and Bianca, even though we’re only related by marriage?” I nodded slowly, already knowing what she was going to say. “Your dad used to be on that clock as well.” We sat there together for another hour, crying into each others arms, remembering the family, my family, which was brutally torn apart.
Torn by dumbledorefluertwins
Chapter Notes: If you'd like to ask any questions about the story or my writing style or anything at all, I have a thread in the duelling club on the forums, called Apollo13 steps forward to duel, muttering "I'm gonna die..."