dinner parties | scorbus

CH1: Unite The Provinces

CH1: Unite The Provinces (3,000 WORDS)

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"Why, exactly?"

"Well—"

"It seems incredibly pointless, I'm fine as I am. I wasn't put on this planet to rule a country, being captain of my soccer team is enough responsibility and that's only virtual!"

Ginny huffed. Her curled ginger hair swung in long tendrils by her waist, fluttering slightly in the light breeze that floated in through the window. The warmth carried by the gentle gusts swirled around the room and disturbed the fresh smell, causing it to leak from the linen and the rugs upon the floor. The afternoon sun leaked through the windows onto the white tiles upon the floor, and reflected sunlight onto the ceiling like disco balls. The comfortable glow caused the room to relax and breathe; a fresh, homely aura. The open, bright rooms tended to flood with a great deal of light; whether that be due to the hundred chandeliers, or the glimmer of heated sunlight.

Harry huffed and glanced at his wife, his stiff shoulders slumping. The action bought his tense shoulders pain and he resumed his noble position. His green eyes scanned over the boy lounged across the embroidered, silk couch. He cringed at the feet kicked up on the wooden coffee table, slightly agitated that such old furniture had been aged by his careless teenage son.

Albus shot him a wary glance and looked back at his television, clicking at the control in his fingers. "Tell Lily."

Ginny huffed. She clasped her hands in her lap and twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "Hon, the girl is 14, it'll do nothing for her. We need to speak with you. It's not as dramatic as you made it seem — it's not a country, you know that."

"Okay, a province," Albus puffed, rolling his eyes, "No, thanks. I already told you; a Lamborghini will be fine. I don't need any responsibilities; I can just sit here and play soccer."

"It's your brother's eighteenth, the least you can do is hold your tongue during the celebration. While, yes, there will be many eligible suitresses for your brother's hand, there will also be many for your own—"

Albus fake gagged. He threw his controller onto the coffee table and glanced around his large room. The tiled space caused his skin to jitter and he flexed; uncomfortable due to the bright, loud colours. The golden shades only calmed him at night, yet reflected and refracted too great of light during the day. It had never settled as homely in his bones; rather as rigid and weighted. Whilst no aspect of his room had been tailored for his delight, the television quenched his agitated mind.

Harry pushed his glasses further up his nose. "Son."

Albus whined, "What, dad? You want me to marry out of the family? That's what this is. You want me to move away, and—"

"Unite the provinces, darling!"

"—Yeah, right. I don't want to rule a country, I just want to ride golf carts wherever I chose. I told you, I'd be fine sitting here and playing soccer. Marriage is gross, end of story. I'm sorry."

"You're sixteen, honey. You ought to be more mature," Ginny scolded. Her firm tone caused each hair on Albus' body to stand up and he tensed; admiring her glittering red gown as she shifted in the light.

"Mum, I don't want to get married. It's not for me, really. Not one girl I've met in the entirety of my life has said anything that I find remotely interesting. It's all the same— 'your parents rich? Mine too. Do you like archery? Well, I'm forced to. Nice chat!' Well, guess what I think; 'you don't actually know anything about yourself other than that you get off to romance novels, much different to any other princess I've ever met. Nice knowing you, ahh toddle-loo.'."