Heaven of Devotion & Whispered Dreams | Regulus Black

A Meal of Unspoken Tensions

The aroma of the evening meal filled the kitchen as Cordelia entered, her presence catching Euphemia's attention. Stirring a pan of sautéing vegetables with a practiced hand, Euphemia glanced over her shoulder. The vegetables sizzled and released their savory scents, filling the room with warmth and comfort.

"Have you finished unpacking?" Euphemia inquired, her tone light yet laced with a subtle curiosity.

Cordelia's gaze swept the kitchen, noting the dinner preparations nearing completion. She reached for a set of bowls resting on the counter. "Almost. Leeta is still upstairs finishing up. I've made sure she knows what to do."

Euphemia switched off the stove and watched as Cordelia began ladling soup into the bowls with a practiced elegance, each movement precise, as though this simple act were a ritual. She added sprigs of herbs on top with meticulous care, a final touch that seemed almost ceremonial for a mere family meal. A flicker of irritation passed through Euphemia's eyes. "It's only us," she remarked, her tone carrying a trace of unmasked vexation.

Cordelia met her mother's gaze, a glimmer of something unreadable in her eyes, as though words were forming on her lips but were ultimately left unsaid. Silently, she withdrew her hands from the bowls. "I'll take these to the dining table," she murmured, her voice cool as she moved to the other side of the kitchen.

Euphemia watched her daughter in silence, a familiar pang of disconnect surfacing. Despite having carried her in her womb for seven months, Cordelia felt more like a stranger than her own child. Cordelia bore neither her nor her husband's appearance or personality. Euphemia had inherited her mother's chestnut brown hair and dark eyes, while Cordelia had taken completely after the Clermont side. Cordelia's resemblance to Cressida was uncanny, much to Euphemia's frustration, and her behavior was similarly precise and formal, a stark contrast to the Potters' more relaxed demeanor. No matter how much they tried to integrate her into the Potter way of life, Cordelia remained distinctly Clermont.

"You're still wearing those dresses?" Euphemia asked, her eyes drifting to the simple yellow ankle-length summer dress Cordelia wore. "Didn't you find the jumpers I placed in your cupboard?"

"I did," Cordelia replied, her tone even as she placed the final touches on the tray she was arranging. "As I've mentioned before, I don't feel comfortable in them."

"You must be the only person who finds jumpers uncomfortable," Euphemia commented, a hint of disbelief coloring her words.

"Not everyone's the same," Cordelia responded, holding the tray steady as she faced her mother. "I feel like I'm in someone else's body when I wear them. I've set them aside. I'll have Leeta return them to you later." With that, she left the kitchen, her departure leaving Euphemia to ruminate on the unyielding distance that seemed to persist between them.

***************

The dinner that followed was somber and subdued, a sharp contrast to the typically lively meals at Potter Manor. But this was not unusual when Cordelia was present; her presence often brought a stillness to the atmosphere, one that felt even more pronounced since her last visit.

Cordelia noticed James casting furtive, concerned glances in her direction, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. It was clear her parents had told him everything. When she had asked them to visit Beauxbatons to discuss her transfer, she had expected Headmistress Maxime to try to persuade them to let their star student stay. Perhaps she anticipated some mention of Louis, if pressed. But she had not expected the headmistress to divulge the details of that terrifying night. Cordelia felt a deep sense of betrayal, as she had been assured the matter would remain private.