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17 years later....
𝕾carlette raised her head when she heard a sigh and a body collapsed down on the carpeted rug in front of her, nostalgic warmth blooming in her chest when she spied the spindly limbs stretching out like a starfish on the floor.
Bringing her cup of tea up to her lips, she smirked behind the delicate rim, chocolate eyes twinkling, not taking her eyes off the Hufflepuff for a second, patiently waiting for her to explain what had compelled her to feel she needed to exaggeratedly dramatic. Patience wasn't a gift given to Scarlette freely, she'd learned it toughly and overtime through a friend. A sister.
"There's a pink haired witch flirting with my dad in the kitchen"
Maple wrinkled her nose up, suppressing a shudder at the scene she had just awkwardly walked in on when all she wanted was to ask her dad for some chocolate.
There was chocolate in the cupboard, and Harry had some too up in his bedroom, but that lacks the sunny feeling in her belly when her dad personally hands her his chocolate himself. It's probably stupid and foolish but it was very much true. She didn't get to ask, inspecting the scene quickly and fleeing to find her godmother instead.
"I believe that would be Nymphadora Tonks, metamorphmagus, Sirius and Regulus' cousin once removed. I'm probably related somehow too as will Harry, most purebloods are at some stage" Scarlette informed the veela mirthfully, studying the horror that widened her eyes when she bolted upwards, whipping her head around to the door of the kitchen, spluttering,
"She can't be more than — what twenty six?! No, hang on, she's twenty five, I feel it in my bones"
Scarlette nodded her head gently, heart swelling at the intuitiveness Maple seemed to have inherited from her mum — Maple's Mystic Makutu, they'd labelled it officially. And she was most certainly correct, Tonks was twenty five, just seven years older than Maple herself and thirteen years younger than the Marauder group themselves.
Maple returned her focus back on the brunette slytherin, eyebrows furrowing together until Scarlette reached out to smooth the pad of her thumb between them, insisting calmly, "Don't frown Mae baby, you'll get creases"
"How are you relaxed about this, Scar? She's flirting with him — my dad" Maple murmurs, not understanding this. From all she's heard and witnessed, Scarlette's the first to come to her mum's defended honour, fight for her, majority of her initial greetings over the years of their youth being, 'Alright, who hurt my badger?'. Now, she seems calm, relaxed and unbothered by what was happening in the kitchen.
"Oh trust me, ma petite feuille. Trust me" She hums, brushing her lips over the being's forehead, Maple melting into the affection, now settled on the floor between her legs, blinking wordlessly at her until she helps her up, declaring, "Let's go and get you, your chocolate"
