Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
01. wait for life
________________
"Lion! Have you seen my wand?!"
The fifteen year old girl ran down the stairs, cloak tucked in between the nook of her left arm and her raven blue tie clutched in her right. Her feet were hard and thunderous against the rickety stairs. Ivy once against called for her grandfather.
"Lion!"
Lion. Derived from the name Lionel. When Ivy had just began to talk at the age of two, her grandfather had tried his very best to get her to call him "Grandpa Lionel." However, the two year old could not quite grasp the grandpa part, nor the last two letters of his name. She had resorted to calling him "Lion."
And it stuck.
The young-old man, as he often referred to himself as, grumbled to himself as Ivy continued her rummaging in the living room. He huffed air out of his nose at the sound of the remote falling to the floor and the batteries scattering. Lionel eyed the wand at the top of the fridge, wondering how it got there.
Ivy walked into the kitchen, walking to the corner area of the counter that was piled with letters, mail and unpaid bills. She dropped her cloak and tie to the floor leaving her grandfather to huffing out his nose once more as he bent down to pick them up as she jumbled through the mountain of paper.
Ivy was very messy. She didn't intentionally do it. Her mind was always very scattered and that translated into her actions, leaving her to be deemed as messy and unorganized.
Which was proven to be true.
Her cheeks puffed out as she held the air in her mouth in anticipation. She swore she left her wand in the kitchen the night before when she was writing a letter to him.
Ivy mumbled to herself, "I swear I left it—"
"Right there?"
Lionel pointed to the top of the fridge, where the applewood with banshee hair core, 13 inches in length and unyielding flexibility wand idly sat, waiting for its owner.
Ivy can remember the day she possessed her wand. She had to go with Hagrid to Diagon Alley as her grandfather would not be able to take her as he was a muggle. She had no other family of wizard blood or descent, only muggle. Leaving her to retrieve her wand with Hagrid, who she came to learn was the Gamekeeper for the school she'd soon be attending.
"I've only one wand left. One that's never even been taken out of its case to be tested."
Ivy's eye turned from a dark brown to an almost yellow color as she sighed in relief at the sight of her wand.
She ran to the fridge and jumped to grab the wand before turning to her grandfather with a serious face. "Why didn't you say anything?"
Lionel rolled his eyes at her and sipped his coffee, speaking into the mug. "I would've if you weren't so busy destroying everything in the damn house."
"I wasn't destroying anything—"
Her grandfather held his hand up, effectively silencing her. He pointed to the living room where the couch cushions were turned over, some thrown on the floor, others upside down.
He raised his eyebrows at her.
The tips of her hair turned a light pink in embarrassment before turning back to her dark brown.
"Sorry," she muttered to him as she walked into the living room and began to clean up.
Lionel was all Ivy had left in this world of despair and betrayal. As the year passed by and his age increased, she'd become protective over him. He was 76 years old, caring after a 15 year old girl. His days of raising a child should've ended the day Ernest moved out of their family home. But alas, it didn't. The days of raising a child only started up once more when Ivy lost her father and Lionel lost his son.
With the rising of the Dark Lord, Ivy was scared for her grandfather. He was a muggle, first involved in the wizarding world because of his son and then further involved in the unknown world because of his granddaughter. The Dark Lord had begun killing muggle families throughout England and Scotland. Every time she sees a new murder being exploited on the front page of the Daily Prophet, the more she feels the intense and almost sickening pulling in her stomach.
Just like the night her father died.
Ivy couldn't lose Lion. She felt like a little girl every time she came home for a holiday. She'd be able to drop the empty girl with equally empty eyes. Ivy was the girl she was meant to be when she was at home. She wasn't meant to be dull. She wasn't meant to be the girl who wore her losses on her face. The girl whose happiness died when she left the comfort of her grandfather, whose face reminded her so much of her father's.
Sometimes she felt as if she was created just to only be destroyed later on.
Ivy sighed as she stopped in front of the brick wall. Her robe was neatly put on, no wrinkles or stains from paint. Her tie was tucked into her itchy sweater, her skirt resting at her knees, and black tights brand new and not snagged with rips. Her classic Mary Janes shoes were scuffed, although she'd done her best to fix them over the summer. Her hair dark and curly as it usually is in its wild fashion, often getting in her face that she'd have to try to her best to not push it behind her ears, so at to not create dents.
Ivy Mae Bardot looked like a distinguished young Ravenclaw.
She just didn't feel like it.
Lionel turned her around and put his slightly shaking, wrinkly hands on her shoulders. The shaking only further reminded her of his age. The realization was heavy on her heart.
He grasped her chin between two of his fingers and gently shook her head with a smile on his face. "You're growing up on me, mon soleil. What am I to do?"
Ivy melted at the mention of her late mother's name. Soleil. Lionel had always made sure to incorporate her mother into her life.
The fifteen year old shrugged her shoulders. "Watch me grow?"
He warmly chuckled and agreed, "Yes, yes. I will watch you forever."
Ivy took in a sharp breath at the word 'forever.' That's the word her father used before dying on her.
She hated that word.
Lionel grasped her face between his cold hands, despite the warm weather, and simply stared at her. Though she came to be raised by him when she was eleven, he'd always been a part of her life. She'd become the sun in the dark universe that he thought had enveloped his life when his son passed. Ivy Mae Bardot was his reason for not leaving after the death. He couldn't leave her to navigate this cruel world on her own. He would protect her and care for her. He would love her as if she was his own.
She was his own.
He ran his finger over the scar on her forehead, reminded of the fateful night she screamed until the world went silent. The scar was procured from a rogue shard of glass that had embedded itself so deep into her skin when it sliced her forehead.
She always hid it with her hair.
One of the reasons why she liked her hair to be wild and unruly— it covered the reminder of the unknown.
Ivy grasped his wrist and brought it away from her forehead and stared into the blue eyes of her grandfather. They weren't always blue. They actually used to be brown, but with age, had become a light bluish shade.
Yet, another reminder of his age.
Along with the red spots in the whites of his eyes that never healed from her horrific doing.
She grabbed the handle of her trunk and looked at her grandfather once more before turning around and heading into the wizarding world.
But not before whispering, "Je t'aime, Lion." Ivy said it loud enough for Lionel to hear and whisper it back as she disappeared from his world and into her own.
lola speaks; i love lionel and ivy.
they're so stinking cute.
i hope u liked this chapter as much as i liked writing it! <3
