Aunt Clara,
I have recently become very interested in foreign languages, especially in French. I have attempted to learn alone, and Father even hired a tutor. I enjoyed the language, and felt like I was doing rather well, when he told me that to progress further, I would have to try speaking it constantly, until even my dreams were French.
This was when Mother came up with the ingenious idea of sending me on holiday to France. Depending on the success of the visit, we would do it more and more often. If everything goes well, I will eventually be sent to Beauxbatons instead of Hogwarts.
But, the trouble is, my sister has no interest in France whatsoever, and Father is reluctant to take a break from work, just to take me alone.
Mother then came up with yet another idea. If you are fine with it, instead of travelling to France as a family, maybe only I could come and visit you?
If you do choose to go through with this, then know that I would require no looking after, as one of our family�s house-elves would be sent along with me.
I do so hope you agree to this. Please be in touch soon.
Yours sincerely,
Belladonna Hawthorn.
***
Lifting my hands from the piano, I gave a small sigh. No matter how many times I played the same tiny piece over and over, it just didn�t fit. What was I doing wrong?
Carefully, I lowered the lid, covering the majestic instrument. I glanced around the room, boredom evident on my face.
The seat I sat in was placed in front of a pair of large picture windows, bathing the room in the winter�s morning light. The walls were made of a dark polished wood, as was the floor, except a much lighter shade.
The grand piano I was seated at was the main focus of the room, placed just right, so the light fell on it from behind, creating a natural spotlight.
However, there was also a beautiful fireplace, its marble mantle bare without photos or ornaments to decorate it. Splitting the room in half was a large sofa, made of damask, with a silk throw covering the back. Not too far away from the sofa was a large bookcase, filled with childhood favourites and crammed with knowledge. Two rocking horses sat side by side, separating the bookcase from the sofa.
Directly opposite me, to the side of the large oak door, used by family and visitors only, was a large writing desk, covered in parchment, quills and bottles of ink.
Sitting at said writing desk, frowning in concentration as she wrote, was another young girl completely identical to myself. She was bent so far over the aged Victorian furniture, that her nose was close to touching the parchment.
Slipping out of my seat, I crossed the room in silence. As I stood directly behind her, I watched over her shoulder as she attempted to copy out a letter in the neatest writing possible.
Standing next to me, head lowered in respect, yet somehow still watching in polite fascination, was one of our many house-elves. I couldn�t remember which one it was and decided to just ignore its presence.
Re-reading the first draft of my sister�s letter, I realised that it must have been written by the house-elf. There was no way that even Belladonna could write like that. She probably didn�t know the meaning of half the sentences. I know I didn�t. She had obviously just forgotten to dismiss the house-elf after he had finished performing his duty.
Turning back to Belladonna, I tried hard not to giggle as she set down her quill so she could push back a wisp of hair without spilling ink on her parchment.
Within seconds of pushing it back, the same strand of hair fell back in front of her eyes. Carefully putting down her quill again, she tucked it once more behind her ear. Moments later, it was covering her eyes again. I leant over so that my face was directly adjacent to hers.
�Bells� why don�t you just tie it up?�
I drew back quickly, and as expected, Belladonna gave a high-pitched shriek. Spinning her body to face me, she jumped the other way to distance herself from the source of the unexpected noise.
There was a loud clattering sound as the wooden chair she had sat upon fell to the floor, narrowly missing landing on my toes by millimetres. As she kept spinning to face me, her hair flew out wildly, the very ends whipping across my face in a painful manner. I gave a small shriek of my own as some of the dark locks brushed over my eye.
Having finally turned completely to face me full on, she took a step back in surprise at hearing my echo of her original noise, stumbling into the desk behind her, an open bottle of ink wobbling dangerously from the vibrations.
�No!� With a cry, my sister flung her hand out in an attempt to save her letter from any spills, but instead, she miscalculated the force she threw into her arm and it ended with her smashing her hand into the bottle.
�No!� she cried again. And I found myself gasping too as I watched the scene play out in front of me, almost in slow motion.
The bottle and ink flew into the air, following the swing of her arm and gliding gracefully through the open space above our desk. As the bottle began to tilt in the air, a waterfall of ink came slowly gushing out of the open neck, pouring out and approaching the letter my sister had worked so hard to make so neat.
�My letter!�
As soon as the words left Belladonna�s mouth, the ink and bottle just disappeared from sight, vanishing in mid-flight. I stood still for a moment, trying to work out what had just happened.
Glancing sideways quickly, I saw the house-elf, its hand still raised high in the air where it had used magic to vanish the bottle. The creature wore a terrified expression upon its filthy face. And for good reason, too.
�Sambo!� my sister�s sharp voice rang out across the room, drawing the attention of not just the house-elf, but me also. �Who gave you permission to vanish that ink? I don�t remember allowing you to use magic, did I? Liddie, did you give it permission?�
�No.� I shook my head. Trust Belladonna to remember the name when I hadn�t a clue. �I didn�t utter a word of consent.�
The house-elf�s large tennis green eyes filled up with tears and it sunk down into a low bow, its nose touching the floor in a way of an apology. But from a creature like that, apologies just aren�t enough.
�I hope that you had already thought of a way for punishing yourself.�
I wasn�t the only one who felt this way; Belladonna agreed with me, too. The house-elf trembled in fear, glancing at the feet of both my sister and me. As if we would waste our energy kicking something so worthless.
�Without magic!� I added after I decided Belladonna had been glaring long enough.
�Yes, without magic. I trust you understand,� Belladonna reinforced.
It wasn�t a question � it was a statement. The house-elf either understood or it didn�t, and so help it if it were the latter.
�But more importantly, Bells-� I began rather suddenly, breaking the silence that had descended on the room, and interrupting the look of distaste she choose to waste on our servant. However, before I could continue, I was cut off by that very same glare.
�Oh. And you, Liddie, don�t think that you can get away with purposely trying to frighten me and almost ruining my letter in the process. If you aren�t careful, I�ll tell Mother.�
�What?� My eyes grew wide at the unfair, unfounded, unjustified accusation. I may have known that all she said was the truth, but she did not, meaning she had absolutely no right to jump to such conclusions.
�Don�t play innocent. You may have learnt to hide the truth, Liddie, but remember that I know you better than you know yourself, so I know that you were trying to scare me. Don�t be a baby and just own up.�
�What? A baby? Bells, you�re a hypocrite. At least I wasn�t almost crying just because my letter was almost ruined!� My voice began to rise as I stared in astonishment at my sister. This was all uncalled for. Who did she think she was, talking to me like that?
�I wasn�t crying!� Her own voice began to climb in pitch, exceeding even my own.
�I didn�t say you were, I said you were nearly crying.�
�That�s the same thing! Don�t call me a baby, you copycat. Can�t you even come up with your own insults or do you just have to copy mine?�
By now, both of us were standing with our heads millimetres apart and our bodies tense and rigid. The glares we sent one another were cold enough to freeze a dragon, and our voices were raised to the maximum.
�Please excuse Sambo, Mistresses�� The house-elf�s voice broke up our argument. The lowly creature had actually dared to interrupt the two of us.
�What do you want?� Belladonna�s voice was even harsher than it had been towards me.
�Sambo is very sorry, Mistresses, but the Master is coming. It would not do for him to walk in on two such as yourselves lowering yourselves to such levels, Mistresses. You must be ready for the Master.�
�The Master?� Belladonna glanced at me.
�Father?� I stared back.
Instantly, the two of us jumped into position, backs straight, chins up, hair prefect, blank expression. The two of us looked one another up and down.
�You�re fine.�
�You�re fine.�
�Good.�
�Thank you.�
We looked back towards the door, as the handle shook, indicating the arrival of our father. The house-elf swept down into a low bow, and my sister and I both lowered our heads respectively.
After all, it would not do to disrespect the Master of the house.
Falling From Grace by IndigoPassion
Story Notes:
It all belongs to her. The one, the only, the J.K Rowling. Except everything that belongs to me :)
Chapter Notes: Thank you Kat (Mistletoe) and Bine (luinrina) for your beta-ing skills ;)