When We Were Young

BONUS CHAPTER #4

May 21st, 1944

"Who had a kid and didn't tell us?!"

"I bet it was Hyperion."

"I DID NOT---"

"I bet you 20 galleons he---"

"Hyperion---"

"Elizabeth, I swear---"

"Ugh, the nasty bugger can't even own up to the bastard he sired?"

"You do NOT---"

Charlus sighed, getting up from the dinner table and heading back to his room in the Potter Manor. Ever since his family found out about the existence of Harrison Peverell, they all started pointing fingers at one another, having the theory that he was not actually a Peverell, but a Potter from how alike his features were to Charlus and Fleamont.

Personally, Charlus thought they all were r̶i̶d̶d̶i̶k̶u̶l̶u̶s̶  ridiculous. If Harry changed his name to Peverell and was actually a Potter, then he could possibly be accused of line theft by Gringotts, considering that he possessed the Peverell heirship ring. Also, considering that the Peverell line was patriarchal, Harry's father must have been a Peverell, and from what he overheard at Hogwarts, Harry's mother was a Rosier, which was a matriarchal line. He had told his relatives as such, but they simply waved it off, saying: "Rumors are rumors. Until proven true, anything is possible."

Sigh.

Charlus was glad that Fleamont was the Potter heir, because high society and all its gossip is---

"I AM NO CHEATER ELIZABETH!!!!"

---tiring.

"Hiding from the chaos downstairs, Charlus?" Fleamont snickered slightly, standing at the other end of the hallway Charlus was walking down. He had been talking to the portrait of his great-great-great-great-grandmother, Esmé Potter.

Away from Hogwarts, Fleamont was not as jerkish. In fact, he was quite pleasant to be around. If only he had maintained that easy-going attitude, then people would like him more, but alas, his cousin was a right asshat to anyone outside his house. Charlus wondered when he would realize that life outside of Hogwarts did not consist of school houses. Fleamont was cutting future political connections off with his behavior, but what could Charlus do? Fleamont was too arrogant to change his behavior, and Charlus wasn't the Potter heir (thank the gods above!). The responsibility of taking care of the Potter household and legacy did not fall upon his shoulders.

It fell upon Fleamont, and he was doing a crap job. Charlus did not want to see his house ruined and devalued.

"Of course, Fleamont. Anyone sane would run the other way when that lot starts bickering!" Charlus jeered playfully, patting Fleamont's shoulder as he walked past him. "Good day to you, Esmé."

"Good day, Charlus,"Esmé relied, inclining her head slightly.

Fleamont watched Charlus as he walked away and entered his room, which was to the left of the hallway. Once Charlus' door clicked shut behind him, Fleamont turned to face Esmé.

"All my family ever talks about now is Harrison Peverell," Fleamont scowled, irritation laced within his words. "I don't understand why everyone's so captivated by him!"

"Describe him to me," Esmé said neutrally, not looking particularly interested in this new topic of coversation, which helped Fleamont's irritation float away.

"He's a few years younger than me and already is the most popular guy at Hogwarts. All his teachers sing his praises, and for the life of me, I can't find anything wrong with him! Everyone loves him, he has perfect features, he's academically inclined, and---"

Esmé's lips twiched, but she refused to let Fleamont see her smile, lest his anger return. "Why do you want to find a flaw in him?"

Fleamont's eyes narrowed. "No one is that perfect. The fact that I can't find any flaws means that he's hiding something."

"Do you want to find out what he's hiding?" Esmé inquired, her head tilting to the side.

"No."

Esmé's eyebrows hitched up high. "And why not? It's obvious your curiosity has been peaked."

Fleamont exhaled sharply through his nose. "I don't want to get mixed up in Peverell's web. I have this gut feeling that he won't let me go once he catches me tiptoeing in it."

Esmé smirked. "A wise decision, my dear."

Poor Charlus, Fleamont thought to himself, glancing at his cousin's room door. He was but another fly caught in the Venus fly-trap known as Harrison Peverell.

¤¤¤¤¤

A/N

Happy Holidays Pot(ter)heads!

I hope you liked reading this little snidget ;)