Meet Me at Our Spot? - Fred Weasley

Part 5: Cough Drops to Wake the Dead

"Gigi!" Her mother's voices firmly, halting her movements abruptly. The girl drops her hold on her shoes and straightens herself up from her crouched-down position.

"Maman," Giselle states, almost trying to mimic her mother's one-phrase way of speaking.

"What in your quaint mind makes you believe you have any right to just go wherever you please without letting me or your father know of your departure?!" Romilda scolds looking extremely irritable. Very different from how she'd been the first few days after the girl had arrived in Devon.

Giselle remained passive despite feeling choked up under the sudden heat she subconsciously felt due to the embarrassment of a scolding. She could do nothing else. It was undeniable that she'd noticed her mother's fluctuations in mood occurring more frequently.

The woman was either very joyful and 'well-colored' or easily irked and pallid. 

"To paint as I always do Mère," Giselle mumbles, fluttering her eyelashes cautiously up at her mother " I deserve your tone I know. It is my fault for being forgetful and not passing by your room to inform you of my desired early set-off."

The woman's face softened as her daughter's words sunk in. Romilda's brows dropped and her pointer and thumb fingers clamped down onto her temples rubbing them defeatedly.

"I'm sorry GiGi," the girl's head shoots up. Giselle somewhat bewildered by the words coming out of her mother's mouth "I had no right to scold you. That blasted cold came back and I've noticed being under the weather makes me more irritable than normal." Romilda confesses although her daughter already knows.

Giselle lay awake last night for a number of reasons. For one she was debating whether or not she should go back to the willow tree. Her consensus was that the girl decided to do so seeing as she'd like to paint a few other bits and pieces of the home's surrounding area and if by chance Fred were to join her it wouldn't be the worst thing. He could be the friend she's been needing.

However, as said that wasn't the only reason behind her insomnia. Giselle's chest felt restricted by worry at the sound of her mother gasping for air after a relentless coughing fit the girl is sure tore her throat raw. Romilda had grown pale and weak-looking again although some days more so than others. When Giselle had left just yesterday morning the woman looked it be in so-so health. Tired but she appeared to be able to hold her own.

" No need to apologize Mum. I understand." Giselle voices a meek smile painted on her lips as her hand reaches out of her mother's.

Fingers interlacing it's undeniable how cold Romilda's hands are just as they'd been the first day. They combat drastically with Giselle's warm flesh but the girl doesn't mind as she lets her mother's digits squeeze her own. The exchange is a form of them speaking words that remain unspoken.

Romilda must have known her daughter is concerned. How could she not? The woman's coughing was hard to hide and It's rather evident that signs of sickness especially ones that induce shortness of breath have been triggering beyond belief for Giselle since everything that happened a little over... Merlin, it's almost been 4 years since he's passed.

"You're free to go," Romilda huffs suddenly growing teary-eyed at her thoughts. Briskly dropping her daughter's hand "I will overlook you not eating breakfast no matter how much I dislike your habit. I expect you home earlier today. No later than half past 5!"

Giselle notices her mother's look of displacement. The sight further urges her to keep her mouth shut no matter how much she wants to protest for her 6 o'clock 'curfew' to remain as is. She knows better than to try and argue, especially with her mother in such a state. Fighting back will equal full revokement of her enjoyment something she doesn't want.