The Queen of Vipers || Fred Weasley

III.III

Tonks was gone when Electra woke the next morning.

She could tell before she even opened her eyes by the mere absence of her cousin's snoring. Electra groaned as she flipped onto her back, her body aching and skin tight with dried sweat. She kept her eyes shut for a long while, her head throbbing behind her eyes. Electra didn't need to be told she had a Not-Moody nightmare last night.

Downstairs, Electra could hear an outburst from the dining room.

Guess that answered where Tonks had run off to so early in the morning.

Electra sighed as she opened her eyes and stared up at the decorative ceiling medallion above her bed, depicting a plaster ouroboros surrounding three ravens. She desperately wanted to bury herself back into her sheets and pillows again and drift back to sleep, but knew better than to test Andromeda. If she wasn't downstairs at breakfast by 8:30 am, her aunt would come bursting into the room and drag her to the kitchen no matter what state she was in.

So Electra, begrudgingly, tossed the covers off herself, crossed her bedroom and shuffled down the hall to the bathroom with slippered feet. She swung the door open and stopped in her tracks.

"Young Mistress." Kreacher, the Black family's horribly named, ancient house-elf bowed low enough for his short nose to nearly hit the bathroom floor.

She cringed. Electra hated house-elves. Not for what they were, but what they stood for, whether the house-elves had developed generational Stockholm Syndrome and "liked" being enslaved to wizardkind or not. And she absolutely despised that her family played a part in it.

She tried not to let her disgust show in front of Kreacher though. It wasn't his fault. Electra quickly masked her cringe before the house-elf straightened and looked up into her face again.

"Kreacher was sure those blood-traitors, half breeds and thieves would wake the Young Mistress," his bloodshot eyes flashed angrily at the stairwell behind her. "What Kreacher's Mistress would say if she knew the filth waltzing into her great home, oh Kreacher's poor Mistress."

Electra was pretty sure everyone knew how she felt about it by the constant shouting of "filth!" and "scum!" she heard daily.

His wrinkly face (that looked very much like a shar pei, even down to the smushed nose) softened when he looked back up at Electra. The house-elf loathed anyone and everyone who stepped foot in the house (Sirius included) except her. He constantly mumbled horrible things about everyone under his breath, but again left Electra out of his name-calling. For what reason she didn't know. Perhaps he'd caught a few of her glares in Sirius's direction and approved.

"Kreacher drew a bath for the Young Mistress. Kreacher hopes it's to her liking." Electra looked to the claw footed tub. The water was steaming and there was a scent of lavender in the humid air. She had guessed it was the house-elf that always had her bath ready for her in the mornings, but never understood how he knew she liked lavender.

Electra chewed on the inside of her cheek before speaking. "Thank you."

The house-elf looked pleased. She tried not to scowl again as he bowed low enough for his nose to touch the tile and slowly hobbled out of the bathroom. Electra frowned before locking herself in.

The hot water soothed her aching muscles the moment she sank into the tub. She sighed and laid there for a few minutes before reaching for the shampoo.

Electra would have stayed in the bath longer had the water not lost its heat. She sloshed out of the clawfoot tub and wrapped the warmed towel from the furnace (thanks to the ever thoughtful Kreacher) around her. Back in her room, she dried off and changed into a dark floral slip and knit sweater. She used the hot air charm to quickly dry her mass of black curls before setting off downstairs, all while her stomach made all sorts of noises.