gorgeous image by jetaway
And all I am is all I could not mention
Like who will bring me flowers when it's over
And who will give me comfort when it's cold
- Thriving Ivory
A cool crisp fall breeze swept across the grounds pulling Amelie from her deep thoughts, and forcing her to take in her surroundings. Mourners dressed in black, some with whom she was familiar, others mere strangers. To her right stood her mother, the sadness showing only in her eyes; to her left, stood her step-mother, her sadness more audible as her body shook from the tears. Together they stood, mourning the loss of a soldier, a husband and a father.
A folded flag was then passed to her step-mother, forcing more tears to gently fall down Anne Dubois’ weathered face. An American muggle tradition; a world that seemed so unfamiliar to an English witch.
One by one, each family member and close friend gently threw a flower on top of the coffin, paying their final respects to a fallen hero. To Amelie however, he was simply Andre Dubois, her beloved father.
As people slowly began to make their way back to the vehicles, Amelie noticed a very familiar face. One she was not sure, she was ready to see.
“Amelie” he softly whispered, as he approached her. She simply turned her attention back to the tombstone.
“James, come on. Now’s not the time”
James simply nodded at his cousin Rose.
“I’m so sorry about your father Ames”
Forcing a smile, Amelie turned towards her best friend and nodded, showing she had heard the comment.
“Come on, let’s get you home. Run you a hot bath and I’ll make you some tea”
Amelie slowly slipped out of her elegant black dress, wanting nothing more to forget the pain that she felt. As she stepped into her bath tub, she willed the warm, scented water to do away with all the hurt and frustration she felt. It had been one week ago to the day that she received the news that her father had been killed in action. A father with whom it seemed she hardly knew, yet loved with all her heart.
When she was just five years old, her parents had divorced. Her father an American muggle, and her mother a British witch. They had met while he was on assignment in London, and married a year later. But when he was ordered back to the States, a few years later they knew the marriage would not last. She spent every opportunity she had with her father, when he was not on tour and she not in school.
As she entered Hogwarts though, it seemed there was less time though. Her father had remarried, and she was emerged in the world of witchcraft and wizardry.
Now almost three years out of school and life was definitely not how she planned. She had thought by now she would have settled down into a well-paying job, living in her own flat and enjoying being young. Reality was, Amelie was lost.
Her job at Flourish and Blotts paid little, and she was struggling to pay the rent on the flat she shared with Rose Weasley. She yearned for the mentality of her seventeen year old self again, to be confident that everything would work out perfectly.
A soft know on the door, stirred her from her thoughts. It seemed to be a new habit she was acquiring, being lost in thought.
“Ames, tea is ready when you are”
With a sigh, Amelie pulled herself out of the tub. Wrapping a towel around her petite frame, she stared at herself in the mirror. She could not help but notice that she was in need of a haircut, her bangs were outgrown, and her brown hair now neared her mid back. She seemed to slowly be letting herself go. With that thought, something inside snapped and a look of determination grew upon her face, as she made a silent pact with herself. She would try and find herself again. Figure out her place in the world. It’s what her father would have wanted.
And if somebody had to enjoy life, it might as well be her.
A/N: Please let me know what you think! Comments are welcomed and make me write faster!
Disclaimer: I wished I owned the Harry Potter World, but sadly I don't. All I own is that which is not recognizable. Lyrics in summary belong to the Fray, top of chapter from Thriving Ivory.