Princes in Exile

Hey!!!! A chapter to ruminate over. Mistakes are mine, since my computer's being a right bitch. I'll probably be offline for a couple of days, doctor's appointments coming up as well as some family stuff. But I'm writing again, and writing fairly consistantly, as evidenced by how horrible my house looks!


so, hope this keeps everyone happy for a couple of days.

mar


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Jennifer had listened to her parents head into their bedroom, and then their door slam shut leaving her to lay in the dark staring at the ceiling. Emily’s sleep talking was the only sound in their quiet bedroom. Even asleep, the girl wouldn’t shut up, although Jenna did discover interesting things she used against her sister to get the younger girl to do her chores sometimes.

‘That means they’re all really half-sisters, and Daddy’s not my real Daddy. But he is. Like he said, he was there for me and will always be there for me. He loves Mom and had never hurt her. He didn’t rape Mom; he’s my true Daddy,’ she argued internally in the dark of night. She was resolved now as only a stubborn 11 year old daughter of the Gryffindor know-it-all could. ‘Maybe I’ll get up early and make breakfast, or help Daddy in the gardens. He’d like that.’

While making plans for the next day, Jenna fell asleep, secure in the love of her parents and sisters.

When she woke it was still dark, but for streaks of crimson and orange on the horizon, backlighting the beloved mountains. She looked across her room to see her sister sprawled out over her pink ruffled bed, her dark curls tangled over her pillow. Mom was going to have fun brushing Em’s mop today. For some odd reason, unknown to all, Emily went to bed with a thick neat braid, but woke looking like she had stuck a wet finger in a light socket. Their father called her the bride of Frankenstein, sometimes, just to annoy her little sister.

Dressing quickly in her favorite cut off jeans and black tank top, she finished by slipping on her canvas tennis and made her bed quickly. She ran to the kitchen and pulled the waffle iron out from its cabinet, leaving it on the counter above her head. Moving to the refrigerator, she thought about their little family tradition. Usually on Sundays her parents would let everyone cook a family breakfast together, most often ending with her father finishing the cooking while Mom cleaned the mess the twins inevitably made.

“I thought you would have slept later,” the voice came out of the attached dining room. Jenna screeched and jumped in surprise, dropping the eggs cradled in her arms. They fell on the floor, shattering like little white and yellow bombs and covering her shins with flecks of egg and shell. “Don’t move! You might slip. ‘Scourgify.’” Toby waved his wand, using one of the first spells he ever learned to clean the floor and his daughter immediately.

“Wow, that was awesome,” she breathed, looking down to see not even a hint of the mess on her or around her. Toby pocketed his wand and stood.

“Well, since the Kneazle’s out of the bag, I might as well scrub the mildew from my wand.”

“Kneazle?” Jenna cocked her head to the side, a motion reminiscent of her mother at the same age.

“It’s like a cat, but magical. Come help me with this and surprise your mum.” Toby entered the kitchen, walking past his daughter to the refrigerator to retrieve more eggs. Jennifer realized then he was dressed for harvesting today, a white t-shirt and his old work jeans over riding boots. Evidently some of the herbs were ready for picking and drying, or maybe he was using fresh ones for a special remedy.

“There’s so much to explain about the magical world, I’m not sure where exactly to begin.”

“Wasn’t it hard going from that to no magic at all?” Jenna cracked an egg into the metal mixing bowl while her father plugged in the griddle.

“Not really. Your mum is Muggleborn—her parents were Muggles, so she grew up with no magic. And my father was a Muggle, I a half-blood wizard. I too grew up with limited magical experience. I did find it a bit hard at first, but with your mother’s help I remembered how to do things the Muggle way.” He looked over his shoulder at his daughter, so intently mixing the batter. Yes, he had missed using magic as if it were another limb, but he’d gained closeness to his family and an intense sense of pride from doing things by hand, the hard way, soaked in the sweat of his hard work.

“Is it better being a Muggle?”

“That’s not an easy question, love. Each way of life has its good and bad points. That’s why Voldemort could never truly fulfill his objective which was to keep Muggle and magical worlds separate. Without the Muggleborn witches and wizards, the magical world would be so far behind the times, it would seem like a time travel experiment going from one world to the other.” Toby worked methodically, pouring batter and waiting patiently while talking to his daughter. They’d often chat while doing some mindless task and he’d sometimes forget just how young she was.

“I don’t understand why you left everything. I understand that Mom was scared, probably terrified, but wouldn’t the magical world have helped?”

Toby turned away from his cooking, whipping around to look at his eldest daughter. “It’s an even more difficult question, Jennifer. It would take a long time to answer. We needed to be away from everything. Like when your sisters have temper tantrums and we put them in time out; we needed a time out from magic and the people we knew. We just got used to our time here and realized we didn’t really miss the magical community.”

“Daddy, it’s burning.” Jennifer pointed to the griddle behind her father, a dark rolling cloud of smoke rose from the overcooked pancake.

“Shite!” his curse rang through the empty kitchen, causing Jennifer to giggle and then cover her mouth in embarrassment. She watched her father scrape the ruined food off the griddle and drop it into the garbage disposal on his left. “You didn’t hear me say that.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she giggled in agreement. He frowned at her, but she just smiled back at him. So much for his fearful ‘bat of the dungeon’ persona he honed for twenty years.

“If I’m a witch, how come I’ve never done magic?”

“You used to. Your mother and I cast a spell to bind it, to keep you from accessing your magic until you were older. I guess we’ll have to perform the counter-spell sometime soon, now that you know about everything.”

“What about my sisters? Are they witches?”

“Yes. Each of you was born with a magical signature, a surge of power. That’s why all of you but the twins were born at home. If your mum and I decide to return to a magical life, we’ll unbind all of you, let you live with magic on a daily basis.”

“Oh.” Jennifer went silent for a little while, watching the sun rise fully out the kitchen window above the sink, frowning just a little bit.

They worked in companionable silence for many minutes, one cooking, and the other preparing the table by setting it nicely.

“Daddy?” She heard her father’s sigh, the same sound he made when her mother asked question after question until he shushed her with a series of kisses and embraces.

“What is it, love?”

“Did you know… him?”

She watched his shoulder’s slump in defeat and she instantly wished she could draw the words back, never to be spoken.

“He… was also a former student, a few years ahead of your mother. I never knew he was also a spy for Voldemort. No one knew, not until the night he attacked her.” his voice cracked with emotion. He didn’t look at his daughter, but concentrated on the food he cooked. It was easier than looking into the eyes so like Percy’s. “I promise I will talk about this with you at another time, Jennifer, but it’s a very hard subject, one I had hoped never to discuss with you.” He picked the last pancake from the griddle, and turned the appliance off followed by a quick unplugging. He stiffened when he felt his daughter’s hand on his arm.

“You’re my daddy. I just wanted to know. I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

He turned quickly and pulled the girl into a tight embrace, hugging her as if not wanting to let her go.

“I love you, Jennifer, don’t ever forget that.”

“I know. Oxygen, Daddy,” she gasped against his chest. He gave an uncomfortable laugh and released her from his arms.

“Sorry. So, who do you want to wake first?” He smirked when his daughter giggled evilly.

“Emily!”