Rise of the Death Eaters [3]

Chapter 29: Views of December

While Hogwarts bustled with its student life as the Christmas holiday drew near, across the pond up in Belcourt Estates, Emmeline Fountaine sat nursing an untouched cup of green tea in one hand while brooding at her figure in the mirror over the fireplace in her study. The house was thankfully empty as Darious had decided to reside in London with his newfound coworkers for the thanksgiving season.

This left Emmeline with various invitations to submit to alone and eat mountains of food that her French stomach still screamed over.

Even with her gifted genetics, age and being a mother had thrown a wrench in her figure- especially her lower stomach, which she stared at with increasing scrutiny. Why hadn't anyone warned her of the dangers of having daughters with similar looks? It always leads to the mother growing jealous of her daughter's youth.

I see it every day in Newport. Even in London and especially in Paris. Parisians do it best. They hide their daughters in glamorous price tags at the surface as an act to seem loving. But those with an eye for fashion can see that behind those price tags were clothes that didn't fit their body shapes. Colors that were poor on their skin tones. Blanket coverage them to dull their shine.

The only women I've noticed who haven't tried to hide their daughters away were the Italians. In particular, I think to one of the witches I had met in New York last summer. Eva Bianchi was from a mafia family overflowing with money and privilege. And she was drop dead gorgeous.

How a woman like Eva could stay so petite and prime in her 50's while eating mountains of pasta a week and not having kankles haunted my dreams.

The only reason why she didn't hide her daughter was because she wasn't threatened by youth. She was prettier than her daughter and age wouldn't change that.

As for Ava, well, she always looked more like my sister, Améline. Jealousy was the least of my concerns when it came to my daughter. But that shine of youth that made girls pretty was what I envied.

The sound of the grandfather clock in the hall rang a reminder of the time. 45 past. Clara would be here soon and I haven't even opened my mail.

I turned from the fireplace that was clicking away softly and sat down at my desk, placing my untouched tea back next to its matching teapot. The look of that periwinkle china made me crave earl grey badly. But no- thanks to that damn Wizard's Post article about the con's of coffee and the benefits of green tea, all the ladies at my luncheons wanted green tea now.

And as hostess I had to follow along, no matter how disgusting I found the substance.

I took out my wand and with a tap, each of the four envelopes waiting for me opened and their letters came out and folded elegantly outside their wrappings. I took the first two letters that were business related and scanned them quickly, writing brief notes about what I wanted down with WBE's newest showcase next month on a pad before setting them aside for later. The third letter was from the Debutante institute in New York. While the board had been grateful to have received a reply from me in regards to my son Theo's interest to be part of the incoming Ball, the board had decided to regain their original decision to keep Theo out of Ball entirely.

I was fuming from the news. More so because Darious had warned me this would be the prospect following Theo's pyromaniac episode. Once news spread on that accident, there was little helping that boy in society on the east coast. But what really sent my blood running was their final sentence, wishing our family well and promising a seat for the youngest of my children, Ava, who's cover on Witch Weekly was "elegance itself".

I flicked my wand a little too aggressively from the wrist, sending my writing paper flying at my face, which I dodged, and then subsequently sent the unwanted green tea flying off my desk. I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment before taking out another leaf of letter paper by hand.