The Years of Riddle

Chapter Forty-Five | Ottery St. Catchpole, October 1978

Chapter Forty-Five

Ottery St. Catchpole, October 1978

The air was crisp, and a heavy moon hung in the sky. In the Lacroix home, Silas was attempting to wrangle his three children into bed. They were sleepy, slow bodies that resisted his bedtime stories and baths, made up of mussed curls and pink, fresh skin. They wore nightgowns and pyjamas with feet, and clung to him with all their might.

Estelle crawled into her bed, her heavy, dark coppery braid swinging. She had recently learned how to do it herself, and had resisted Silas' help after her bath. "I can do it, Papa." She'd pushed his hands away and set to braiding her hair, and Silas' hands had fallen limp at his sides. It was so simple, braiding hair – but he had always done it for them, after bedtime. But Estelle was eight years old now; she could do many things by herself.

Unlike her sister, Anthea still needed help with her own hair, equally dark and wild. She held baby Orson, just two years old, in her lap as Silas braided her hair. Anthea and Estelle shared a room, and as he did every night, Orson begged to sleep there too.

"No, Orson." Huffed Estelle. "You can't sleep in our room."

Orson's lower lip trembled, and he clasped and unclasped his chubby little hands. "Bu-bu-" he whimpered.

"It's okay Orson," Silas whispered into his pale curls. "Not tonight, okay?" Orson made grabby hands for Anthea, who at five could barely hold her little brother's chunky body but tried her best. Once the girls were tucked in, Silas carried Orson to his room. The toddler was already dropping off to sleep, and he clutched Silas' shirt in his little fist.

"Papa." He sighed sleepily, and Silas kissed his warm forehead, pulling the blanket over him.

"Goodnight sweet boy," he said softly, lowering the lights. The mobile Albus Dumbledore had purchased for Estelle hung over Orson's crib, and in the corner was their old bassinet, awaiting the newest member, just one month away.

Silas stopped by the girls' room, leaning in. Their voices were hushed.

"Will the new baby sleep in here if it's a girl?" asked Anthea.

"I dunno." Estelle was not entirely pleased by the new baby. "I guess once she's old enough not to share with Orson, I'll be at Hogwarts, and you two can share."

"I guess." Anthea spoke softly, and Silas' heart ached. His girls loved each other, and he knew that in three years time Anthea would miss her sister desperately once she left, and as much as Estelle tried to hide it, she would miss Anthea just as much.

Silas crept downstairs, were Inesa was relaxing on the couch, a blanket thrown over her feet and a cup of tea and a book in her hands. Her eight-month pregnant stomach had a plate of biscuits balanced on it, and Silas smiled.

"How'd bedtime go?" she asked, looking up from her book.

Silas sat beside her and stole a cookie. "Pretty smooth. Anthea was asking Estelle were the baby would sleep if it were a girl, and Estelle said that by the time the baby was too old to share with Orson, she'd be at Hogwarts."

"What a weird thought." Inesa shook her head. "Imagine, our girl will be at Hogwarts in three years."

"Time flies." He took her hand, pressed a gentle kiss to her fingers. "Four kids later and you still know how to make life interesting, and full, and beautiful."

"Thank you," she smiled and but her snacks and book aside. "I think four is enough though, don't you?"

"I do." Leaning over, he kissed her sweetly, cupping her face in his hands. To this day, kissing Inesa made him feel sixteen again, and he could always smell the fresh air down by the lake, or feel the tickle of the breeze. They were about to head upstairs when there was a flurry of knocking at the door, and the couple gave each other uneasy looks.