lydia montgomery. (brusquely) wrote in caged, @ 2013-09-01 14:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! 97-09, [ narrative ], lydia montgomery |
Who: Lydia, Mary and Liv Montgomery
What: A chat before going back to Hogwarts
Where: Montgomery home, Donaghadee, NI
When: Morning, 1st September
Rating: Low
Status: Narrative
Lydia had been mostly packed for the past few days, everything folded neatly and in its place. Going back to Hogwarts was a reality, but it felt strangely distant nonetheless, like a relic of another life. A life before her brother died, before the Prophet was publishing lists of muggleborns as the Ministry forced them into lives they didn’t want. A life before she and her family were wilfully helping Lance hide the fact he was a muggleborn. Hogwarts had always been so untouchable in Lydia’s mind, but she knew it wasn’t any longer and the thought of going back made her nervous, a deep, dark anxiety that made her bones feel heavy. Standing in the centre of her bedroom, she surveyed everything she’d left behind, trying to judge whether she wanted to bring them or not. Her eyes lingered over a stack of books in the corner, but they were muggle and Lydia wasn’t stupid: she didn’t want to take that chance this year. Not when taking chances hadn’t worked out well for her family in the past. Behind her, someone cleared their throat and Lydia turned to see her mother leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest. Mary smiled and Lydia could pinpoint which smile it was instantly: the ‘I’m-trying-to-be-reassuring-but-really-I’m-b “Lyddie.” Mary walked into the room, reaching out and rubbing her hand up and down Lydia’s arm, a gesture designed for comfort. “It’s going to be fine. You don’t need to worry about things so much.” Lydia gave her mother a flat look, pressing her lips together tightly. “You need to worry about things more,” she shot back. Mary blinked a few times before deciding not to take the bait. She shook her head, long dark hair fanning out, and Lydia could see her attempting to make her smile more genuine. “I’m being serious, Lydia,” she said. “Worrying won’t make anything better. Everything is going to be as okay as it possibly can be, given the circumstances. If you worry too much you’ll go grey early.” She lifted a hand to tug at the end of Lydia’s braid and, despite herself, Lydia smiled back. “Don’t tell me about going grey. Look at yourself, old woman,” she said, lifting her own hand to tug at her mum’s hair. Mary’s face softened and then crumpled and, without warning, she started crying. Lydia’s heart seized for a second, panicked, and without being aware of who had reached for who, they were hugging each other. Lydia clutched at her mother, babbling nonsense words, sounds meant to soothe and comfort. She felt old and young at the same time, pulled between opposite poles and not sure where she fell. Burying her own face in her mother’s shoulder, Lydia hugged her tighter. “I wouldn’t send you back there if I could avoid it,” Mary said, voice pitched low and words coming thick and fast, like she was trying to get them out before she thought better of it. “I’d keep you here, you and Liv. It’s not safe there and you have to be careful, you have to be, because Dumbledore died and I can’t protect you there and I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect Caleb but I’m begging you to take care of yourself and your sister.” She pressed a kiss to Lydia’s forehead and hugged her tighter: they were the same height, so even though Lydia wanted to, she couldn’t tuck her head under her mother’s chin, close her eyes and pretend that her chest didn’t feel too tight, that her eyes weren’t prickling and that she already felt like things were coming apart at the seams. “It’s going to be okay, Mum,” Lydia said, reassuringly, running a hand up and down her mother’s back. “I promise it will.” Mary let out a choked sound, halfway between a sob and a laugh. “You know, I’m your mum. I’m supposed to tell you that.” Lydia pulled back from the hug and smiled slightly, wiping at her eyes. “I can’t help it if I’m more mature than you,” she said. Mary looked at her and laughed, darting forward to kiss her forehead again. “I love you, Lydia, and I’m here if you need me. Just be good and if you can’t be good -- “Be careful,” Lydia joined in, the two of them finishing the familiar adage in unison. Mary smiled again and then cleared her throat, noisily and dramatically as always. She wiped at her own eyes and then ran a hand through her hair, looking down at Lydia’s trunk which only had a few more books to be added to the top. “I have something for you. You and Lance, actually,” Mary said, sticking her hand in her pocket and taking out photographs which she handed to Lydia. Looking down at them, Lydia was torn between rolling her eyes and smiling at the pictures, which were predominantly of the two of them or their two families, playacting at being related in the form of a family reunion. “Mum,” Lydia started, but she didn’t know how to continue then and fell silent. She wanted to say thanks for doing this, for helping Lydia help Lance; she wanted to remind her that they had all agreed that this was the limit and they wouldn’t stick their necks out anymore to help Lance; she wanted to tell her that if the Death Eaters came knocking again not to refuse to help. She wanted to say a lot of things, but instead she pressed her lips together and didn’t say anything, just stared down at the photographs, watching a version of herself roll her eyes at a version of Lance. “You’re doing a good thing for that boy,” Mary said, tugging at the end of Lydia’s braid again. “Your dad and I, we’re proud of you.” Lydia’s eyes flicked upwards and her throat constricted. She blinked a few times, then smiled. “I’m proud of you, too,” she said and it was maybe half of a lie, but her mum didn’t need to know that and she certainly didn’t need to know that now. She kissed her mum’s cheek then, unable to help herself, added, “Just don’t do something like that again.” Mary didn’t answer, just took the photographs from Lydia’s hand and stashed them in the trunk, moving the things at the top like she was straightening them but actually making more of a mess. Lydia let her do it anyway. They were both silent for a long moment, searching for something to say. The silence was broken when Liv stuck her head round the door, an expression of annoyance on her face. “Are you two going to dither about for any longer or can we get going? Romilda Vane told me she had a lot of gossip for the train in her last owl and I need to hear it all.” Lydia and Mary exchanged a look and then they both burst out laughing, causing Liv to roll her eyes dramatically and huff, turning on her heel to leave. “You both need to hurry your arses up,” she said, imperiously, as she left and Lydia was still laughing at her as she placed the last of her books into the trunk. |