TW: Slight Domestic Abuse

• • • • •

After Henry had finished crying, James came upstairs with plates of food for Beatrice and Henry. They took them gratefully, and Beatrice sat down beside Henry to eat.

I led James back downstairs, and we sat down at the breakfast nook to eat the spaghetti that he had made.

"How are they?" James asked.

I swallowed my food, "Henry's really upset, depressed really, and Bea is practically emotionless, which is worse. She shouldn't have to be the one taking care of everyone."

"Neither should you," James said softly, "It's not your fault that this happened, and it's not your fault that your mother has never known how to be a parent."

I set down my fork and it clattered against my plate.

"I haven't seen her yet, and I'm not sure if I want to," I admitted, "I don't even think that she'll leave the house for the funeral tomorrow."

James shook her head, "He was her husband-,"

"They might have still been married when he died, but she wasn't his wife for a long time."

James looked at me sadly, his eyes mirroring the pain that I was feeling.

"Thank you for lunch, well-, for everything," I added. "I should go see mummy dearest."

James clasped his hand over mine, the gold band of his ring cool against my fingers.

"Let me come with you, you don't have to carry his burden allow."

I contemplated for a minute before caving. "Okay, come on," I said softly as I tightened my grip on his hand.

We ascended the stairs, and turned down the corridor to my mum's bedroom. I could hear Henry and Beatrice talking in hushed voices from Henry's room as I brought my hand up to the door and knocked.

When there was no response, I opened the door slowly.

The lights were off, but the curtains were open, letting the pale afternoon light in through the open window. My mum was sitting in her chair by the window, a cigarette in her hand, and a blank stare on her pale, yet beautiful, face.

"Hello, Daphne," She spoke as I walked into the room, James trailing behind me. My mum didn't even look up at me, her gaze trained on something outside of the window.

I stepped into a patch of sunlight in the bedroom, "How are you?"

My mum looked at me, and I could see the black streaks of her makeup stained against her pale, pore less face.

She took a drag from her cigarette, "Well, your father's dead, you don't want to be apart of this family anymore, and your brother can't be bothered to ever come around, so how do you think that I'm feeling?"

I yanked the cigarette out of her skinny fingers and put it out in the ash tray. "You really should stop smoking," I said angrily, "And drinking, for that matter."

She looked at James, who was standing protectively behind me.

"This is really how you want to talk to your mother in front of your husband?" She asked.

"I'm only saying what needs to be said, I'm not saying it to be cruel."

My mother laughed softly, "You better be careful how you speak to me, Daphne, or else your beloved might decide to leave you."

I flinched, but was quickly comforted as James intertwined his fingers through mine.

"I would never leave, Daphne," James stated, "And I don't like the way that you speak to her very much."

She waved him away, a cruel smile spread across her face.

I grabbed an empty vodka bottle from the dresser, and an empty bottle of wine from the floor. I held them up, "How old are these?"

"A couple of days, I think."

"This is why I'm here," I stated, "Not for you, because you've made it quite clear that you don't give a damn about me. I'm here because Henry isn't okay, and Beatrice is stuck taking care of him, and you, because you're a drunk. You always have been, and you always will be-"

My cheek stung as my mother struck me across the face, her hand cracking like a whip against my cheek.

James stepped in front of me, his hands pushing me towards the door. My hand pressed against the skin of my cheek that was burning hot to the touch.

"Don't you ever hit her," James yelled.

My mother laughed, "That's how she got so disciplined."

"How could you hit your daughter?"

I grabbed James by the arm, "Let's go, shes clearly drunk, and she hasn't been my mother for a long time."

James slammed the bedroom door behind him, as he followed me into the hall.

His face was filled with concern as he brought his hand up to my cheek. His fingers brushed softly across the red mark on my face.

"I'm so sorry," James whispered.

I shook my head, "Don't be. She's a drunk, and a mean one at that."

"That doesn't make it okay."

"I know," I replied, "There's no use in starting anything, we'll be gone the day after the funeral, and I won't have to see her ever again."

James tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, "Does she do that to Henry and Beatrice?"

"No," I answered, "Only me and Sebastian. We were never 'perfect enough' for her."

James hugged me tightly in the corridor, his chin resting atop my head.

I breathed in his scent of chocolate chip cookies, wood, and the faint scent of my jasmine perfume. as I leaned into his touch.

He was my drug.

• • • • •

The Next Morning

I stared at my reflection in the mirror of my childhood bedroom. I still look the same as I used to, but if you look closely you can see that it is not that case anymore.

A wedding ring on my finger, dressed in black, red eyes, and a pale face despite my recent vacation.

Her hand had left a welt on my face which didn't disappear overnight. I easily covered it with makeup from the years of practice.

I wore a black, a-line dress, a long cashmere coat, and simple black heels.

The last time I had wore heels was on my wedding day, and now I was wearing heels, just over a week later, to my fathers funeral.

James' head peaked around the doorframe, "There's someone from the Ministry downstairs, he wants to speak with someone about your fathers will."

I grabbed my purse from the floor and followed James out of the bedroom.

Henry and Beatrice were sitting on either side of the couch in the living room, dressed in all black, with blank looks on their faces.

A man stood awkwardly in the doorway, his briefcase tucked under his arm.

He held out his hand to me, "Antony Fletchley, I'm so sorry for you loss Miss Beaufort."

"It's actually Missus Potter now," I replied.

Antony smiled, "I have your father's written will, and I would like to go over it with you and your mother if you have time."

"Lucille," I said coldly, "Is unavailable for the time being, so it will be just me that you will be speaking with."

I sat down on the couch between Henry and Beatrice, and gestured for the man from the Ministry to sit down in one of the overstuffed arm chairs.

"Once again, I am the utmost sorry for your loss, but it is best to get these formalities out of the way."

Henry scoffed, "Please just get on with it, we have a funeral to attend."

Beatrice shot Henry a scolding look as Antony Fletchley awkwardly stared at us.

"As for with money," Antony began, "It is to be divided equally between Sebastian, Daphne, Beatrice, and Henry."

I quickly hid the shock from my face after not hearing Lucille's name.

"I gave give you the exactly numbers-"

I cut him off, "That's not necessary."

"As for the estates, the manor in Scotland is to go to Lucille, and the manor in Paris is to go to Daphne."

I looked at James, who looked just as shocked as I did.

Antony handed me a note, "Your father wanted you to have this note, regarding the estate I assume-"

There was a burst of green flames in the fireplace, startling only Antony Fletchley.

The smoke subsided and Sebastian stepped into the living room, adorned in black.

"Sorry I'm late," He announced, "Who is this?"

Sebastian pointed to Antony with a confused look on his face.

"Antony, he's from the Ministry," Beatrice answered, "We're going over the will."

Sebastian shook Antony's hand before sitting down on the other couch beside James. They shook hands before turning their attention back to Antony.

"Your fathers work possessions are to go to Sebastian," Antony said as he handed Sebastian a letter. "This letter is also from your father."

Sebastian took the letter in his hands and stared down at it, examining the lettering on the envelope.

"For Beatrice," Antony added, "Your father left you a letter, as well as a flat in Vienna."

"Vienna?" She asked confusedly. "Since when do we have property in Austria?"

We all remained just as confused as Beatrice as Antony continued on with the will.

"And for Henry, your father also left you a letter, as well as all of his personal possessions in this house, included his home office."

Henry snatched the letter away from Antony, and slumped back into the couch with a vacant look on his face.

Antony Fletchley scanned over the written will one last time. "It seems as if that is all," He announced, "If you have any questions, here is my card."

He handed his business card to Sebastian and let himself out of the house. The sound of apparition followed him as he exited the property.

I stood up and hugged Sebastian tightly.

My older brother kissed me on the forehead, "I'm sorry for not being here."

He hugged Beatrice next, who seemed to cling onto him, followed by Henry. Henry looked frail against Sebastian, and leaned against his older brother for support.

"Where's mother?" Sebastian asked as looked at the clock. "We should be leaving."

"She's not coming," I stated, "She had an incident last night and she's probably too drunk to go anyways."

Sebastian frowned, "Very well then." He smiled at James, "Welcome to the family, and welcome to our shit show of a mother."

We apparated to a graveyard in Godric's Hollow, where my father grew up.

He was very clear about not wanting a ceremony, and insisted that only his loved ones be there for his burial.

The five of us entered the graveyard. James's hand was clasped tightly around mine as we met a man right inside the gates.

"Beaufort family?" He asked.

We all nodded.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," He replied, "His plot is this way."

Beatrice flinched at his words, and trailed behind us with Sebastian as we walked through the graveyard to the fresh plot.

I stared down at the deep hole in the frozen earth, and fought the edge to throw up as I gazed at my father's freshly made coffin inside it.

"Feel free to take your time, say a few words, whatever you wish," The man announced, "I'll be around in a bit."

Henry collapsed to his knees on the dirt just beside the duffel grave. He made no noice, but his frail body retched with silent sobs.

Beatrice went to stand beside him, placing a comforting hand on her twins shoulder.

"Au revoir et adieu," I muttered softly.

James met my eyes and looked down at the fresh hole in the ground. He cleared his throat, "Repose en paix."

Sebastian stood on the other side of me, watching our two younger siblings murmur the goodbye that none of use got to say to our father.

At least my last memory of him is a good one.

When he left the wedding, my dad told me how proud he was of me, and that he loves me.

He had been happy then. We all had.

Oh, how much has changed since that day.