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The Other Daughter by manic_rage
Chapter 6 : Art Supplies & Easel With A Past
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 2

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Art Supplies & Easel With A Past

Later in the day Electres was sitting in her new room, thinking of what she had just done, coming to the realization that she just betrayed her Dragon for her family she barely knew, and that was killing her.

She remembered that Jake had once told her that to always do what you believe is right, what your heart tells you to do, and that is how he justified what he was doing for her, for them, a quest that was never to be finished.

She sighed, her emotions had been on high since she has come back to her family; everything she had been trying to suppress was coming out and she hated it because she knew it made her weak and vulnerable.

She knew that until the day she died she would love Jake, for reasons obvious, and others that are much deeper; but always she would want him back, and she knew until her last breath he would be the only person she truly loved, because taught her to feel, and what is was to be loved.

It was something not even her Dragon could replicate and he knew that he could never be in her as Jake is.

She walked out of her room and to the kitchen, the one place she knew she could always find someone from her family, they were always in the kitchen, she was right and found Charlie.

“Hey, you ready for that talk.” He asked and she shook her head smiling slightly.

“I need your help.”

“What is it?” He asked concerned but she only smiled.

“I need something’s and I need someone to go with me because I have been informed I cannot leave this house without another person with me.”

“What do you need?”

“I’ll know when I see the store.” She said and he smiled, grabbed his coat, and left a note that they were leaving, something he knew he would get in trouble for later.

Once they were outside Electres was smiling from ear to ear, she loved the outside world its faults and all.

Charlie walked beside her as they made it to down town London, looking at every passing storefront just as Electres was.

Without word, she walked into a store, that on the outside was not much, but on the inside, it was beautiful, it was an art store.

“You’re an artist.” He asked and she smiled slightly, she had many reasons why she was here, one was for supplies.

“Yes and no. A friend taught me a long time ago, I learned from his example.”


“He was one of my only friends and I miss him very much, but that story will be for when I tell you everything.” She said grabbing a simple sketchbook and a pack of different level pencils, but when she saw the easels, she dropped what she had been holding.

Charlie looked at her as he watched her run her hands over the dark wood of the easel, her eyes closed.

“Electres?” he asked and her snapped her head at him and then to the clerk.

“Where did you get this?”

“What do you mean?”


“A printer came in here and asked if he could sell it, after I did I asked why he wanted to sell such a find easel, he told me quiet a story.”

“Which was?”

“It’s cursed. He said anyone who tries to paint using it will never sell the painting painted there, then he left.”

“I want it.”

“Miss I am very super-“

“Please, just sell it to me.” She said sadly and the man nodded and rang it on the cash register.

Electres picked up the sketchbook and pencils and set them on the counter.

“She’s a stubborn this one.” Said the clerk and Charlie smiled.

“Yes sir, she is.” He said grabbing the easel for Electres, and carrying it out as she paid and followed him.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing.” She said as she continued to walk, Charlie behind her.

When they got back to the house Molly was there and ready to yell at Charlie, about how dangerous it was to take Electres out, and so on.

Electres did not listen to this, instead she took the easel from Charlie and carried it to her room, where she closed and locked the door.

Electres sat on her bed and stared at the easel and immediately she took the sheet off her bed and covered it, all though she had bought it, she could not bear to look at it.

She sat on her bed and opened the sketchbook to the first page, and in French wrote:
“In loving memory, my only love Jake Trixigon.” She then opened to the next page and began to draw; nothing G-rated.

When it was time for diner Electres went downstairs, with her sketchbook because she knew if anyone ever saw one drawing there would be much explaining.

She sat at the table, next to Charlie and Bill, she knew they would not try to see what she was drawing, but the Twins were determined to see it.

She looked up at them on their third attempt and glared.

“Don’t ever try that again, understand.” She said in the coldest, cruelest voice she had gained through the years.

Everyone looked at her surprised. She continued to draw, occasionally taking bites of her food.

At the end of diner, she set her sketchbook on the table while she wiped it down and anywhere else in her sight as she helped Molly clean.

When she was done with that she went back to her room, only to find people in it.

“Yes?” She asked looking at her- Ron and Ginny, and of course Harry and Hermione.

“What was that about?”

“What I draw is private and I will show it when I feel it is the right time.” She said setting her sketchbook on her bed.

She looked at Ginny who was looking under the sheet.

“Don’t touch that!” She snapped and Ginny quickly pulled her hand back.

“No one is to touch that.” She said sitting on her bed, looking at everyone.

“Is there something else you wanted?” Hermione looked at her and smiled.

“Yes, we’re leaving for the train to school in two days, you should start packing.” She said walking out, Ginny following her.

“We left you a trunk in here, for your stuff.” Said Ron walking out, leaving Electres and Harry.

“Yes?” She asked and he looked at her sideways.

“What are you drawing?”


“What things?”

“Things from my past.”

“Oh.” He said, not waiting to ask any more questions he left, leaving Electres the way she liked it, alone.

A/N: i can promise that in the next chapter, theres some fun things. 

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