Trust

CH 3 - Aurora

A couple days had passed since I had first woken up. I spent most of my time hiding in the bedroom reading, or making trips to the library for more books to read. I had talked to Euphemia a bit as she was always around to make sure I had food to eat. I trusted her the most, she was so caring and she reminded me of what I imagined my mother was like. I was two years old when my parents died and I remember almost nothing of them. Euphemia, in the couple of days I'd know her, treated me more like a daughter than any foster parent I'd ever been placed with. The few times I'd run into James, he had been nice and attempted to tell jokes to make me laugh. He had yet to succeed.

I still didn't make conversation with the Potter's if I could help it. I also actively avoided running into other people in the manor, mostly because I had no idea how to act. I hadn't informed anyone of my name, maybe because I didn't really feel like myself anymore. Sometimes Euphemia asked questions. I shut them down or flat out ignored them, I didn't want to think about Crabbe manor. I couldn't deal with it, it took all of me just to keep myself sane.

My brain was at war with itself, I was afraid to interact with others because I didn't want to ever be hurt again, but I wanted to live a normal life. To do that I would need to let others in, I wouldn't be normal if I was only solitary. Maybe I could put a little effort in, I put down the book I was reading on the history of magical artefacts. I decided that I would leave my room for something other than a book. Maybe even to interact with other people. I let my feet carry me down stairs into the main living room.

Fleamont Potter was an immature adult who saw fun in almost everything, he liked to spend his free time painting. That was exactly what he was doing in the room facing out the window. He did this a lot, he liked to stare out at the field and the lake beyond and paint whatever went through his mind. I had only been introduced to him in passing but he seemed rather interesting. His paintings also covered the manor walls. I approached behind him and watched as Fleamont slapped blue against the canvas, it was an abstract work. It wasn't finished but it had calm somber feel to it, so opposite to how Fleamont generally acted.

"Thoughts?" Fleamont asked. I didn't realize he knew I was there, I always moved quietly and never announced my presence. He turned his head back toward me to see my eyes examining his painting. I don't think he expected me to answer but I just thought about my desire for normalcy. That and I missed my watercolour paintings and had found something I could actually relate to.

"It's cold and sad. It feels like it doesn't belong on a warm summer day like this one. Even if it is cloudy," I said quietly. Fleamont looked at me curiously as this was the first time I had said more than one word to him. He looked back to his canvas, stepped back and tilted his head to the side.

"You may be onto something," he dug through his bag of paint and pulled out pink. "This should help."

I gave him a small smile and turned to follow a sweet smell into the kitchen. My bare feet moved silently across the floor and sat on a stool behind where Euphemia was cooking. She was cooking strawberry crepes with strawberry sauce on the stove while humming to herself. She placed some crepes onto a plate and turned to place it on the island where I sat. She jumped in surprise upon noticing me then smiled brightly. She placed the plate in front of me. I dug in happily.