Don’t cry sister cry, don’t do it, don’t do it
When old man trouble knocks on your door
Don’t give him no key, he just wants more
He’ll turn your life to misery
Kick you down, just like me
Don’t cry sister cry, it’ll be alright, it’ll be alright
Don’t cry sister cry, everything’ll be just fine
Woke downhearted and you feel so bad
Somebody wants something of nothing you had
Love don’t come too easy, you see
A little bit of you and a little bit of me
Don’t cry sister cry, it’ll be alright, it’ll be alright.
-J. J. Cale
Chateau Noir, the manor house in London where Cedrella had grown up, looked just as she remembered it. The wood was just as dark, the lamps just as dim, and the floors just as polished. It had the same faint smell of fine perfume and dust, and the curtains still hung, heavy and brocaded, over most of the windows, blocking out the view of the city and, incidentally, the light. Nothing had changed since her last visit except the holly that had been wound around the grand banister, which was gone and replaced by a vase of dried flowers on a desk in the hall. Cedrella sighed, as she handed her cloak off to the house-elf and proceeded up the carpeted steps with Charis to change her clothes, thinking of Septimus and the happy homecoming he was probably experiencing right that very moment. All of his brothers were there to celebrate his graduation”even Demetrius and Vivery had flooed in for the welcome home dinner that his mother had cooked and was serving, Septimus said, out on the lawn. She tried to imagine them all, dim faces from pictures Septimus had shown her, laughing and eating together, teasing one another.
There was a tap on her door. “Does Mistress Cedrella need any help unpacking?”
“No thank you, Kiko,” Cedrella said, forcing her mind back to her present. “I can do it on my own.”
“If mistress is sure,” squeaked the elf.
“Quite sure,” Cedrella answered firmly.
“Then Mistress would like to see Mistress Cedrella for supper in an hour,” said the elf.
“All right,” Cedrella agreed. She heard Kiko proceed out of earshot down the hallway to Charis’ room, and flopped onto her bed, filled with dread at the thought of the first of many excruciating family dinners, a feeling made worse by the image of Septimus’ family that still hung in her mind. Three months,s she told herself firmly. Three months, and you have to use them well. It’s not going to be easy to convince Father to consider a Weasley. And with this thought centered in her mind, she got up once more and began to dress for dinner.
**
Five days into the summer holidays found Cedrella in the manor’s library, a dusty room full of books no one but she ever read. She had opened the long plum-colored curtains and cracked the window, letting the warm sun and a little breeze stream into the room, and was busy sorting her research notes into possible chapters of a book. She was feeling cheerful, or as cheerful as she dared”it was her first day in London without some sort of social function to go to, and the sun and wide-open day had put her in an optimistic mood. Mathias had visited in the night, bearing fresh berries picked from the woods near the Weasely’s house and a letter. And early that morning she had sent off a long letter back to Septimus detailing the stressful but successful family dinner of the first night with her parents, Callidora and her husband, and Charis, and the various outings her mother had been dragging her on ever since: to Diagon Alley to shop, to the dressmaker to be fitted for summer gowns, to tea at the Potters’, the Lestranges’, and the Crouches’. Cedrella had the sense that she and her younger sister were being paraded around the Wizarding world like a pair of pretty birds, shown off to anyone and everyone. It was all extremely tiresome and predictable, and Cedrella had found that she had even less patience with that sort of thing than ever. It was crucial, however, that she stay in her parents’ good graces and so she had played her part flawlessly, pretending to enjoy the shopping, faking interest in the clothes, and even resisting the urge to one-up her mother during conversations at tea, giving up the only amusement they had ever offered. She had hid her estrangement with Charis, acting perfectly normally around her sister when there was anyone to observe them and even going to Charis’ room in the evenings sometimes, as she used to do, just to make sure she aroused no suspicion. And all the while she was hinting, plotting…why, just two evenings ago she had had a quite successful, though brief, conversation with her father at dinner about the death of Sagittus Weasley earlier that year. Though she would have given almost anything to still be at Hogwarts, Cedrella had to admit she got a certain amount of satisfaction from how well she was carrying herself off so far. It must be the Slytherin in me, she mused. I doubt a Gryffindor would ever enjoy manipulating their family. Too noble, the goons…
“Mistress Cedrella?”
Cedrella jumped and wheeled around to face the elf standing in the doorway of the library. “Kiko! You startled me. What is it?”
“Kiko is sorry, miss,” the house-elf squeaked apologetically.
“Oh no, nothing to worry about, it’s all right,” Cedrella reassured, rousing herself from her thoughts enough to realize that Kiko looked positively miserable. “Really, it’s all right, Kiko,” she said again, when the elf did not cheer up.
“Thank you, Mistress Cedrella, you is very kind,” said Kiko, and for some reason she looked apologetic now. “But Mistress Cedrella”Master would like to see you in his study.”
“Now?” Cedrella asked quickly, trying to quell the automatic feeling of panic she felt in her stomach at these words.
“Yes, Miss,” Kiko answered, and she actually looked close to tears.
“All right then, I’m coming,” Cedrella said, as calmly as she could. She stacked up her notes, rolled them into a scroll, and handed them to the elf. “Will you take this up to my room please, Kiko? I’ll be along as soon as I see what Father wants.” She tried to keep her voice light. There was nothing to be afraid of, not yet.
“Of course, Mistress Cedrella,” Kiko said miserably, and vanished with a crack, taking the scroll with her.
Cedrella checked her reflection in a gilded mirror hanging on the wall, tucked a few strands of hair more securely into their bun, and left the library, heading resolutely down the long hallway to her father’s study.
The fact was that only once had Cedrella been summoned here to hear good news, and that was at the beginning of the previous summer when her father informed her that she could continue studying at Hogwarts, after her (if she did say so herself) rather brilliant plea. Every other time…Cedrella flexed her wrists, aware more than ever of the thin scars that criss-crossed the white skin there. Perhaps he wants to talk to me about my marriage, she thought. Perhaps he’s found someone for me. This possibility only worsened the fear bubbling in her stomach. It’s too soon, she thought. I need just a few more weeks, a few more weeks and I might be able to talk him into it…but what am I going to do now if he has already picked someone for me? And her mind racing with possible arguments, Cedrella rapped three times on her father’s door.
“Enter,” he said, and she did.
Arcturus Black was standing behind his desk with his back to her, facing the old painting of his grandfather that hung there on the dark, papered wall.
“Good afternoon, Father,” Cedrella said quietly. Her voice was steady.
For nearly thirty seconds she stood there in silence, waiting for him to speak, marshalling her wits and her thoughts as best she could. Finally he turned around. There was a fierce anger in his usually unreadable icy eyes. “Come here.” She did, taking five steps that brought her level with the desk, and then he raised the wand held in his right fist and whipped it across her face. Cedrella held very still, fighting back a cry of pain and shock. He had never beaten her without explanation before. The wand came again, and again and again, but Cedrella kept still and silent until at last he slammed it onto the desk and stepped back. “Sit,” he said, and his voice was low and furious. Her whole face stinging and numb, Cedrella sat. They stared at one another for a moment and than her father said, “you know why you’re here.”
“No, Sir,” Cedrella said. It hurt to move her lips. It hurt much, much worse than when Rodney Selwyn had punched her back in January.
She had never seen him look so furious. “You will be interested, then. You see, Cedrella, I do not allow my daughters to spend time around unsuitable boys, or fraternize with Blood-Traitors, or cavort around Hogwarts with filthy, ambitionless Gryffindors. And I CERTAINLY do not allow them to be seen kissing WEASLEYS!”
Cedrella’s heart was beating so fast she thought she might faint. How can he know, how can he know, how can he possibly know?
He was watching her grimly, his eyes burning furiously. “You thought you could get away with it, you clever little bitch, because no one would ever expect it from you? You thought you could bring the boy into our good graces and no one would ever suspect?”
Cedrella did not say anything.
“ANSWER ME!”
“I don’t deny it,” she said at last, feeling sick. “I don’t deny any of that. But please just tell me how you know. Where’s your proof.”
“Your sister,” he said, standing up once more, “informed me of this detail you have been withholding this morning. Now stand up.”
Cedrella didn’t move. Charis? Charis? Charis never knew, she never knew and even if she did why would she do that, how could she ever?
“Stand up!” her father shouted.
‘I don’t believe you!” Cedrella cried, not moving from her seat. “I don’t believe you, Charis would never do something like that”“
“Your sister has proved herself a hundred times the Black you are!” he roared. “You are a disgrace, you are a”“
“I don’t CARE!” Cedrella screamed at him. “I don’t care what you say because it doesn’t MATTER what you say, you’ve always hated us anyway because we were daughters instead of sons, and you would NEVER tell the rest of the world what awful things I’ve done because you’re too self-serving and greedy to do anything that would hurt your reputation!” She heard the whipping sound of the wand again without really feeling it. “I hate you!” she shouted. The wand struck her lips. “I HATE you!” she yelled again as soon as it was gone. He was forcing her head back, he was beating her neck, and suddenly it hurt so much she could not form coherent words any longer, and so she screamed, screamed as she had never allowed herself to do until the wand stopped and her father threw her to the floor of his study where she lay on the rug, gasping.
Arcturus Black stood over her, and for some reason Cedrella thought of the star Arcturus, the great protector. You are a disgrace to your namesake, she thought.
“You are never going to see that Weasley filth again,” her father said. “Late this morning I finalized a long-standing offer from Bartimeus and Lyra Crouch. You will marry their youngest son, Caspar, in a year’s time. Meanwhile you are not to leave this house until the first of September and you are not to leave the Hogwarts grounds unless I personally escort you out. Now get out of my sight.”
Cedrella dragged herself to her feet, hear head swimming with pain, and made to leave. But as she turned the door handle Septimus’ face sprung into her mind, and as if she had summoned his words to her she turned to her father and said “You’re the real disgrace, you loveless bastard.” And then she slammed the door.
The house elves were waiting for her outside, and they had scurried anxiously beside her has she walked, trancelike, her vision swimming a little, down the long hallway and up a flight of stairs to her bedroom, ready to catch her if she collapsed. But Cedrella did not collapse, not until she had safely closed the door of her room, and then the elves lost no time in physically pushing her onto the bed and fluffing her pillows and pulling her hair away from her face and neck, which was still throbbing and stinging in an odd, numb sort of way. It was then, lying there, dimly aware of one of the elves fussing over her while the other hurried from the room, that the weight of what had just occurred washed over her. And as the shock came, wave after wave of it, the numbness faded and then went away entirely. Pain.
When Cedrella opened her eyes again, there was someone else there, someone sitting on the edge of her bed and applying something that Cedrella could not feel to her cheek. The room was dimly lit and the curtains where drawn. “What time is it?” she asked, and her lips felt strange.
“Nearly nine in the evening,” her caretaker replied, and Cedrella recognized with vague surprise the dark hair and stern profile of her sister, Callidora. She shifted her position slightly so she could look Cedrella in the face. “Mother told me what happened.”
“What did she tell you?”
“She told me that Charis told Father something about you that made him very angry, and that you needed someone to take care of you,” Callidora said calmly. “The elves gave you a dreamless sleep potion so you wouldn’t feel us treating the bruising, and Mother told me to go out and purchase some anti-scarring slave at the apothecary on my way here. Don’t worry, Cedrella, you’re going to be all right. There might no be any noticeable markings at all. Perhaps one or two no your neck, but luckily high-collared gowns are in this summer, so no one will be the wiser.”
Cedrella stared at her older sister, extremely glad she was there but unable to fathom, in that moment, exactly how they had gotten to the subject of gowns. “All right,” she said, uncomprehendingly.
Callidora sighed, and smoothed the hair away from her forehead. “I have food for you, if you want anything to eat. No”don’t turn your head. Would you like milk, at least?”
“All right,” Cedrella said again. And then her sister was holding a goblet to her lips, carefully tipping the warm milk down her throat, and she swallowed it, her throat oddly tender.
“I cannot believe this is still happening,” Callidora said quietly after the milk was gone. “You’re seventeen years old, you’re of age, and you’re still being treated like a naughty ten year old from the nineteenth century. I’ve told Harfang, when we have children, especially if we have daughters, I want to have a say in disciplining them. In most cases this isn’t the thing to be done.“
Cedrella did not say anything. She still felt like her sister was speaking another language. In most cases? What would you have done, then, in this case?, she wondered.
Callidora was watching her, looking regretful. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” she promised. “Unless you want to talk about it? I can stay as long as you like, Harfang can wait.”
“I…” Cedrella cast for something to say. “Where’s Charis?”
“She’s finishing after-supper coffee with Mother and Father,” Callidora answered, and there was caution in her voice. “Do you want to talk to her?”
“Not yet,” Cedrella said, and she felt sudden tears welling up in her yes. She forced them back, mastering herself and making sure her voice was steady before she spoke again. “I just…she must have known what would happen. I could never”unless I was afraid for her life, or something such as that, I could never turn her in like that.”
“She must have thought it was for your own good,” Callidora said reasonably.
“But it”Callidora, I’m sorry, but what about this is good? Yes, I did something wrong, but I was never going to bring dishonor on the family, I had a perfectly good plan, and now look at me. I can take care of myself, she knows that. I’ve spent the last three years being responsible for both of us.” She forced the hysteria out of her voice.
“Charis cares about you a great deal, Cedrella. She’s always looked up to you and relied on you, more than you ever did to me.” Callidora paused thoughtfully. “Rightfully so,” she added. “You never needed me like Charis needs you.”
“She doesn’t think she needs me anymore,” Cedrella said bitterly. “Our whole second term at Hogwarts she was either badgering me or ignoring me”“ she stopped. Don’t pretend you didn’t have a part in that, the voice in the back her head reminded her. She kept silent.
Callidora sighed again. “Cedrella, you know Charis better than anyone; you know her better than I do. If anyone can understand why she told, it’s you. But don’t spend too much time worrying about it, all right? What’s done is done, and no harm, really. We’ll have you healed up and presentable in a week, and then the Solstice Ball is coming up”and you’re engaged! The Crouches are an extremely esteemed family, I’m very happy for you.”
Cedrella did not reply. She wondered if her sister could see the pain on her face”coming from her heart this time, not her wounds”that had swept through her at those words. Engaged. Engaged.
Callidora was busying herself with the bottles on Cedrella’s nightstand, and now she held a vial to her lips. “Painkilling potion,” she said, and Cedrella sipped it down obediently. “There,” Callidora said, replacing the empty vial. “Try to get a bit more sleep, all right? I’ll be back in the morning.”
She squeezed Cedrella’s hand for a moment and then rose, making to leave. She had almost reached the door when Cedrella said quietly, “Callie?”
Callidora turned back around, looking concerned. Cedrella had not called her “Callie” since she was five years old, and their mother had told her that it was disrespectful. “Yes?”
“Do”do you love Harfang?” Cedrella felt like she was five years old. But she needed to know.
Callidora walked slowly across the room again and sank onto the bed. “Why does it matter?”
“To me? Or at all?” Cedrella wondered if she really wanted the answer to that question.
“Harfang is a very good man,” Callidora said after a moment of silence, ignoring the question. Cedrella thought she looked older than her twenty years. “He treats me well and we have a very good life.”
“I already know that,” Cedrella said, trying to contain her frustration. “But are you happy? Do you have fun together? Do you love each other?”
Callidora was frowning down at her. “I know you must be worried about being married, Cedrella, but its really”“
“Are you going to answer me, or not?” Cedrella asked bitterly. She should have known better than to start this conversation with her sister. The time was long past when Callidora could reassure her about anything. They had barely spoken in two years. We don’t even know each other anymore, she thought.
“Cedrella, you of all people know that those things aren’t as important as”“
“I know!” Cedrella interrupted. “I know. I was just wondering. Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” A long silence stretched between them. Cedrella thought that, behind her impassive dark eyes, her sister looked sad.
“You learn,” Callidora said at last, “to love them. You learn. That’s what I’m counting on.” And then she stood up, and with a click of the door she was gone.
**
Cedrella slept fitfully that night, waking up again and again to find her eyes swimming with tears. She did not dare to wipe them away so she simply lay there, waiting for the salt water to evaporate from here eyelids, staring at the pattern of the plaster on the ceiling until she drifted off in a half-sleep once more.
Near three in the morning, she awoke again with a start, the fragments of a dream still swimming before her eyes. Something was tapping on the window. Septimus, she thought, quickly getting out of bed and hurrying across the room. She pulled back the heavy curtains, squinting through the dark for Mathias or Cleo. At first, seeing nothing, she thought she must have imagined the noise. But then as her eyes adjusted to the dark she saw someone standing on the drive outside the house, in a long cloak, wand arm raised. There was another tapping noise to her left and Cedrella, realizing what must be happening, sized the handle of the window and tried to pry it open. It wouldn’t budge. She dashed to the next window, and the next”none of them. From the third window, she saw her father turn on his heel and reenter the house, his mission of imprisoning his daughter in her bedroom accomplished.
Cedrella flung herself back onto the bed, the same strange rage she had felt in her father’s study the day before building in her chest. The worst part of it was the helplessness, the feeling of being trapped and tied, figuratively and literally, every way she turned. I’m a fool, Cedrella thought, pounding her fist into her pillow. An optimistic fool. This is what I get for hoping. This is why I always heard it was wrong to expect things. Where did that get me? A prisoner in my own house, betrothed without so much as an introduction, betrayed by one of the only people who is supposed to protect me, disgraced, banned from ever seeing him again… And then she could not help it”a sob finally fought it’s way up her throat and burst out, and so she lay on the bed, gasping and weeping, the tears leaving hot, stinging trails across her tender cheeks. It felt like hours before she finally lost consciousness to sleep.
**
Cedrella feigned listlessness the next day when Callidora arrived, eating the food she brought and ignoring her slightly forced chatter about her plans for redecorating the Longbottoms’ summer house. She was afraid that if she engaged in conversation or actually listened to what her sister was saying, she might start crying again. And that wouldn’t do. Callidora was already worried about her, and at any rate there was no reason to think that she wouldn’t tell their parents Cedrella was a nervous wreck. If one sister could betray her, so could the other. And so she lay in bed, docilely letting the healing creams do their work, with nothing but her miserable thoughts and a terrible weight in her chest for company.
A timid knock on her door when the tiny bit of light peeking through her curtains had turned dusky brought her back to the present. She knew, without looking, that it was Charis. “Come in,” she said, wishing she could postpone the inevitable and knowing that she could not.
Charis did not sit on the bed as Callidora had done. She closed the door, carefully placed the tray she was carrying on the nightstand, and dragged over Cedrella’s vanity stool, where she perched, biting her lip.
Cedrella took a long look at her sister: nervous, sad, and defiant. She wasn’t sure what to feel. She thought she ought to be angry”and she was, but the misery had dulled it into a sort of burning resignation.
“Would you like some milk?” Charis said finally, breaking the silence.
“All right,” Cedrella agreed, and accepted the goblet her sister handed her. She sipped it slowly. Start talking, the voice in her head that sometimes spoke with Septimus’ voice said. Just say something, start somewhere. I’ve always thought screaming fights were better than silence. The last bit, she thought ruefully, was definitely his, not hers. But perhaps it was true. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” she said to Charis now. “You never saw me with Septimus. You heard this, somehow, from Selwyn.” She had been thinking about it all day, and nothing else seemed to make sense.
Charis was looking at her lap, refusing to meet Cedrella’s eyes. “He saw you kissing in the library,” she mumbled. “He was asking me about Lucifer”I think he overheard Mattie and I talking about it at dinner”and then he told me what he’d seen.”
“Did he offer any particular reason for gossiping like an ignorant Hufflepuff and meddling in our business?”
“Cedrella”“
“Will you answer me?”
“No, he didn’t,” Charis said, still not looking at her. “I had said something about there not being a ‘date’ for Lucifer and I to get married. He asked me if there was one for you. I said no, there wasn’t, why did he ask? And he didn’t answer my question, just told me that there was something I ought to know about my ‘perfect sister.’”
“How many times have I told you that no one is perfect?” Cedrella asked bitterly.
“A fair few”but I never dreamed this was the reason.”
Cedrella bit back her retort”she’d starting telling Charis that years before she ever met Septimus, back when to all eyes she was perfect. “Go on,” she said instead. “What possessed you to take Rodney’s word over mine?”
“I didn’t want to believe him,” Charis said, raising her gaze at last and then quickly looking away again at Cedrella’s hard expression. “Honestly, Cedrella, I didn’t”but I’m not stupid. Once I was looking for it was obvious that you were acting oddly. You were always smiling to yourself, that is when you were around, which was almost never, and he was always watching you”at meals, especially, he never took his eyes off your end of the table. And I hadn’t forgotten what you told me in January. It all fit.”
“I see,” Cedrella said. She hated how icy her voice sounded, but she couldn’t help herself.
Charis refilled the milk goblet, watching her nervously with averted eyes. “I don’t understand, Cedrella,” she said at last. “All my life you tell me what to do, how to be proper and good and be the best Black I can be. You’re always right and you set the perfect example and you never lead me wrong, even though you’re annoying sometimes. So how do you think it was, this year, when I knew that you were betraying us”going back on everything you’ve ever told me”and lying about it to me just as easily as you can lie to Father, and all the while still bossing me around?”
Cedrella did not say anything. This was why she had decided not to tell her sister everything, why she had guarded her secret from Charis so carefully”because she wanted to save her sister from this confusion, because she knew all along that she wouldn’t understand.
“It was awful,” Charis continued, looking at her at last with defiant, angry eyes. “I tried to”I thought that if you could just get engaged to someone else then you would forget about the Weasley and move on and everything would go back to normal. But you didn’t, you wouldn’t. How can you say you know everything about being a perfect pureblood, Cedrella, when you don’t even want to act like one? You don’t want to get married, you hate parties, you spend all your time studying”“
“There is a great deal of difference,” Cedrella said, trying to marshal her thoughts and not yell at Charis”because now on top of everything else she was feeling guilty for what she had inadvertently put her sister though, “between knowing something, and being something. You’re right, Charis”I know exactly how to be the perfect Pureblood, on the outside. But I never claimed to be one, nor have I wanted to be one for quite some time now.”
“Are you telling me you still know everything, even though you’re the one who messed up?” Charis asked hotly.
“Yes,” Cedrella said. “Because”no, listen to me, Charis. You want to be a good Black? You want to survive in this world? Fine. I’ll tell you how. You are careful, you observe those older than you and copy their ways until they become yours, and you trust no one except the people your blood dictates you should trust. Do you want to know something about being a Black? One of the most important things, one of the only ways to make it around here, that somehow you seem to have missed even though I’ve been trying to explain it to you your entire life? There is nothing--nothing--more sacred than the trust between sisters like us! Who else can we count on? Who else is going to look out for us? Who else is going to protect us? Not our parents, clearly. Certainly not anyone else from the community. No Charis, the only people in this family who are really there for you are your sisters. And even if we fight, or hardly speak, nothing supersedes that.”
Charis was staring at her, her expression frozen, but Cedrella could not stop now that she had begun.
“I’ve been taking care of you for my whole life, Charis,” she said, her voice low, some of the raw fury breaking her cold tone now. She couldn’t help it. “There is no one in this entire world who I know better than you, or who knows me better than you, or who I love more than you. And yes, I care about this family, I care about the Blacks, I care about propriety”but all of that nonsense pales in comparison to my responsibility and love for you. And I would never”could never”do anything that I knew would deliberately hurt you! I would go to Father if you were doing something that was…slowly killing you or”something like that but otherwise I would find some other way to deal with it, because in this family nothing is more important than protecting you! If we don’t have each other, we have NO ONE. Do you hear me? No one.”
Charis had not moved a muscle, though Cedrella thought that her eyes had a strange sheen to them, as though she were trying not to cry.
“So yes,” she said quietly. “I would say that I still ‘know everything’ about being a Black. I may not agree with it or follow it, but damn it, Charis, I know it. And so until you know it too, you still need to listen to me”because clearly you’ve missed a few important lessons.”
Charis looked away and set the milk goblet down on the nightstand, fussing with the contents of the tray. And when she looked back, Cedrella saw she had been right”tears were spilling out of her eyes. Charis did not speak, but bit her lip and cried silently, staring at Cedrella. Cedrella had the feeling that they were both waiting for the other person to apologize. And neither of them, she realized, was going to do it. She hated to see her sister cry, hated the idea that she had put her through anything that year at Hogwarts. It was clear Charis felt badly about it and that she wasn’t about to forgive Cedrella for lying to her. But it was Charis’ fault that they were both sitting there, in Cedrella’s dark bedroom with the windows locked and the dark wood of the nightstand crowded with healing slaves and painkilling potions. Her sister needed to hear it, needed to understand. And not just so that this never happens again to me, Cedrella thought. She has to know, she has to learn, she has to stop being such an ignorant child about how this world works…
Charis swiped at her streaming eyes, and, abruptly, pulled back the bedcovers and crawled under them, curling into a tight ball and pressing her face into Cedrella’s shoulder. She was shaking, Cedrella realized. And so Cedrella drew an arm around her sister and held her there, stroking the back of her head with the tips of her fingers, tangling them in the soft brown waves.
“I was worried about you,” Charis said, and her voice was very muffled. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what was going to happen if I didn’t”if you didn’t start acting normally again. I was trying to help.”
And though Charis had not apologized, not really, and though she was acting in Cedrella’s opinion like a naive child, and though there was something pathetic about her excuses and the way she was crying, Cedrella could feel her anger melting away, to be replaced by nothing but an aching sort of sadness. “I know,” she whispered. “I know.”
It was forgiven, Cedrella knew. It was time to move on.
Soldiers by dominiqueweasley
Chapter Notes: Cedrella goes home for the summer holidays with high hopes, and nothing goes according to plan.