Coral

For the next few weeks, Amanda's life was the balance between exultation and utter exhaustion. If she had a moment to spare, it was spent with Lottie; dressing her, singing to her, reading to her from books of poetry. There was nothing sweeter than the smell of Lottie's skin, nothing softer in the world than Lottie's hair, and nothing so frightening as those moments when Lottie slept so hard that her parents were certain she had ceased to breathe,

The first week was the most strenuous; Amanda was still tired and rather achy. Yet that was when the most courtesy visits were made for the sake of bringing gifts to the baby. As much as she might want to, Amanda would never be so rude as to send her visitors away. Therefore, Charlotte, in her very first week of life, was held by some of the Wizarding World's most eccentric persons.

There were still other persons who did not even go to the Ollivander house. They instead appeared at Eloise's abode, to offer congratulations on, and gifts for, a child they had not even seen. Since Amanda had barely or never heard of those witches and wizards, she began to suspect that they only dropped in for the excuse to drink a toast of free alcohol in toast to the newest girl child born to the Rookwood name.

Most Witches and Wizards needed little or no excuse for celebratory drinking; sunny days, end of school, a nest of freshly hatched robins in the garden...Therefore, a baby, no matter what kind, or where it was from, was more than just cause for a serious round of vaporous felicitations.

Every guest was generous though. They all brought gifts of some sort and left them on Eloise's polished cherry table. Most items were 'donated' heirlooms. Lace bloomers, rusty puzzle boxes, Aunt Eustace's four-pound paste diamond brooch, Cousin Armwell's dramatic pointy hat...

From their closer family friends came the more practical and sentimental gifts.

Giles Barkwater brought a carved memory chest from Bombay. It smelled of incense and expensive oils. For a man who had never had children of his own, he handled Charlotte with ease. Perhaps a little too much ease for the comfort of the other adults, who watched breathless as he bounced her in his arms, and boomed out nonsense words to her in his jolly voice.

Amele brought bonnets, and a boxful of novelty baby items that Amanda thought might not be useful for baby, but would undoubtedly be entertaining for parents. The stickable nappies alone were intriguing.

Arthur and Molly sent what looked to be small Muggle photograph-album. Close inspection revealed that it had been tampered with to allow it to expand indefinitely. The perfect way to keep all of the darling keepsakes in one place.

Even Agnes had sent a gift...a small white music box with a ballerina inside. It played Tchaikovsky when wound, and the ballerina whirled gently in her real tutu. Amanda thought it very peculiar, and wondered if she should be suspicious. She asked Eloise about it, and her aunt advised her never to be shocked or amazed by any mood of Agnes'.

" Enjoy it this week, she'll probably send you the bill for it tomorrow."

Soon, the visits tapered. The last of the thank-you notes were owled. Crisp, having been carefully introduced to the newest member of the family, had regarded her through his spectacles and hooted in the manner which seemed to say that as long as she didn't eat his food or stand on his perch, he would tolerate her from a distance. He was not impressed by the fact that due to her arrival, he had been constantly sent here and there delivering notes and carrying heavy parcels marked 'fragile'. Nothing made Crisp more dyspeptic than having to handle fragile objects.

When Lottie turned a week old, Edward presented her with a gift from himself. He had, in his spare time, and when Amanda had not been watching, carved a miniature wand. It was fat and blunted, the better to be used as a teether. He had sanded it smooth as glass, and charmed it to play music when shaken, or simply tinkle like bells when gnawed upon. The wood was a dark vinewood, with an unusual texture. On the handle, he had carved a 'C' monogram, encircled by an ivy wreath. Cradled in the arm of the letter, was a tiny cameo face. A delicate girl's face turned slightly upwards.

He was delighted with himself, for as soon as she saw the wand, Charlotte smiled.

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There was only one detail in Amanda's life which kept it from being perfect, and that was the absence of her own father. She felt it quite keenly as she stared at the infant in her arms. What wouldn't she give to have him alive for just one day! Just long enough to hold his only grandchild in his capable arms. She imagined he would have been very proud, Princeton was the sort of man who prized children highly.

Whenever she thought about Princeton, she would begin telling her daughter her memories of him, carrying on a Garrett tradition of glorifying loved ones. Lottie listened to everything that Amanda said with an unnerving amount of attentiveness, and this encouraged Amanda to detail every action to the infant.

She no longer kept thoughts to herself as she dressed, ate, tidied, or read. She wondered sometimes what Grandmother Garret might have said, for she alone among her matronly southern peers was an aloof mother, and when educating her granddaughter on the duties of mother hood, often seemed unforgiving and squeamish at the thought of babies and children.

This had confused Amanda even then, for the other women had been so warm and open, perambulated their offspring proudly, and held them frequently. And it was from those women, from her own mother, and from women such as Amele and Mrs. Weasley that Amanda fashioned her views on how to properly love and nurture her own child.

She wanted to care for herself, for the child, and for Edward, without any outside help, but she had to agree, though somewhat grudgingly, with Edward that it was difficult to live in a magical house. Without the constant aid of a person equipped to do limitless magic at all times, small matters could become excruciatingly tedious.

For instance, she found that she now tended to forget the orders, and would run short of milk or meat, and not be able to get any herself. Twice she had forgotten to have Edward recharge the charms on the cold pantry, and the butter had gone rancid. Then there was the wood for the stove...which needed ordering,The Floo powder was of course, depleted, thanks to Edward's accident, and neither of them had thought to have it refilled and there were doxies in the spare room, and she needed some more space in the closets.

These were serious limits, and coming at a time when she was already weak, they were nearly overwhelming. And though she stalled as long as humanly possible before doing so, she did eventually speak with Amele. Her friend was very enthusiastic, but not too optimist about their prospects.

Amele came without her brood to discuss the matter, and ate cookies from Amanda's stash with her elbows on the table, her long hair curtaining her thoughtful face. Amanda, watching her, thought of the day not too long ago when she had first met Amele, and the older woman had been mysterious. She remembered how she had wanted to marry and have children and be happier than Amele and Jean-Paul. She smiled. Perhaps she was not yet any more happy than they, but she felt the creeping suspicion that she was finally just as happy.

Amele continued to think, while tugging on her the red plastic star dangling from her earlobe.

" They all want to be famous, these days, yes. None of them want to work, not even with wands! Ah ah...but there must be one, no? Maybe Eliza Duddle? No...she married! What am I thinking. Oh, is she awake? May I see her? Oh...what a beautiful little girl. So tiny too, why, she is a perfect little fairy! Ah me, and all I have is boys, boys boys. But I love my boys, my fat little boys. Have you seen Wellis? Oh! He has such knees!

Doesn't she just have the most delicate feet? They look like rose petals. They remind me of Esmeralda in the book, the Muggle one about the Hunchback? And she has hair. Not a one of my boys had a strand of hair. Not even now does Wellis have a hair, and Renee does not have much. But her hair is not red! " Amele paused for a breath. " Would you call that brown, prehaps, or black, like your mother's? "

" I think it's brown. " Amanda frowned thoughtfully.

" Was her father's hair brown?"

" Edward's hair...? Why, I think so."

" You don't know?" Amele laughed

"Well, I never thought about it." she blushed, indignantly. Then she added, grinning lightly. " Really, how would I know? I might find some photographs here, though, if I search through some of the unused , I haven't seen a single one!"

" That Dinah probably burned them." Amele said, tossing back her hair. Amanda tilted her head in agreement. It was certainly possibly. He was most fortunate, she thought, that it had not been Rebecca he was married to. She would have probably burned the entire house down. With him in it.

" Here take her back, mamma, she is looking for you." having had so many children of her own, Amele handle the baby a little little more easily than Amanda, who was still afraid of dropping her. Amele passed Charlotte across the table easily, as Amanda held her breath, praying that the baby didn't tumble into the marmalade dish and die.

" Hold them all the time when they are babies...they grow up too fast, and go to school."

Jules had begun his first year of school, and though he had been away only three weeks, Amele missed him terribly. His absence was tolerable only because he was as verbose as his mother, and sent several owls home daily, each containing a lengthy narrative describing everything about Hogwarts; from his lessons, to his detentions; from the color of the pudding to the clothes the teachers wore.

It had been quite an event, when Jules came in for his first wand. Edward had shown him special attention, and after only a few minutes fitted him with a wand of oak. Twelve inches, bendy, dragonstring. He predicted Jules to be a very strong willed and brave child. Amele had stood by and pretended not to be sad to see her eldest equipped for his long foray into manhood and eventual independence.

" They say I shouldn't feel so. After all, I have so many others, but ah, I'll be sad to see each one of them go. Why wouldn't I? Is one more special than another? No! " she huffed.

Amanda clutched Charlotte closer to her bosom at that thought. What was in the future for her little fairy child? Would she be a powerful witch, or a simply a squib like her mother? Would she go to Hogwarts? Or would she attend a Muggle school? She felt a hollow sadness thinking of such futures too, of her Lottie going away, and kissing boys, and forgetting to write home.

She shook her head. She mustn't let such visions encroach on her current peace.

" Amele...please...you are making me sad. Let's talk of something else."

" Oh! I am sorry! What am I thinking? You shouldn't be sad...this is a happy time! And you are a beautiful mother. I am inspired to sew something I think..." she tilted her head to the left, and then to the right, regarding Amanda like a painter approaching his model. She held up her hands and made a square to look through.

" That's it. It is soon to be autumn...and I am seeing something in a soft orange. The color of that chaise. Very soft, and tucked at the shoulders, flowing...Roman! Yes! Something inspired by Rome, and Greece, and femininity. What do you think?"

" I'm not sure!" Amanda laughed. " Your creations are all beautiful."

She fingered the cut-work collar of the sacque Charlotte was wearing.

" Merci. Would it be strange if I said you were a muse to me? No...why should it be strange? You are so...timeless. You simply do not look as though you belong to this century. I never before had the chance to make real dresses.

Always, younger people wanting mini skirts, and robes, robes, robes...always the same robes. Only for costumes might they want something more extravagant. That is why I liked so much working with the older women, they still believed in color, and trims and embroidery. When do you ever see a young Wizard or Witch with embroidery?

Straight lines, they say. Boring! I remember when the professors at school used to wear pounds of embroidery, bands here,,,and bands here, from their ankles to the collar, with protective charms and symbols worked in. Every layer. Their outer robes. Under robes, shirts, vests, trouser hems skirts, even the underclothing. Everyone's underclothing. Now...nothing on the underclothing. What is the point, they say? "

She clucked her tongue in dismay at the world's bland fashion sense, then jumped to her feet.

" Ah! I must be leaving. I just had to come and see her again...I only peeked the first time. She is really an angel. You know..." she peered at Lottie once more, " I think she might have her father's eyes. That looks like a permanent shade of blue to me."

" Do you think so?"

Amele shrugged.

" What do I know? I only have four, and it is all brown eyes." she grinned. " You are taking your medicines right? Good. Now, you rest. I will find you a girl. A good girl, not too clumsy. The perfect young lady for you and Charlotte! "

She left in a whirlwind of pink scarves, and jangling bracelets.

" What do you think? " Amanda asked Charlotte after they were alone.

Charlotte stuck a fist in her mouth.

" I see. Well, we are getting a lady anyhow, to help us out. It's your fathers' wish though, so don't blame me if she breaks dishes or burns the toast. Right? Well...Amele will do a good job. You like Amele, don't you? Yes...I saw you smiling..." she jiggled Charlotte so that the baby smiled.

" That's right." she sighed." And one day you will probably marry Arden or Renee...or whichever boy comes next, and have the world's longest wedding toasts."