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departing from dad 🦋✨📘🪄
ELECTRA WASN'T READY. Tomorrow they went back to Hogwarts. And Electra was so much left to do in so little time. She wouldn't be back for months. "This never gets any easier," she told Iris as they stood in their shared bedroom standing at the ends of their respective beds in their shared bedroom.
"I agree," Iris agreed, turning to look at her sister's defeated expression, "Like how am I going to know what I feel like wearing every day," Iris adds as obviously, they were talking about packing. It was a daunting thing to think about. Packing for so long.
It also doesn't help that both Electra and Iris leave it till the day before they were supposed to be leaving. But what were they supposed to do? Have it packed in the corner of their room waiting to leave? They couldn't do that it would be too much of a reminder. Because even though Hogwarts is great there's nothing like Andrew just about managing to make dinner and occasionally giving up and disapparating into the nearest town to get fish 'n' chips. Not that they complained. Who would complain about getting to eat chippy?
Electra shrugged, "We could look at it logically," she suggested looking over at Iris with a serious expression before a smile breaks through and the sisters start laughing.
"But like seriously," Electra says, glancing at her trunk and turning to look at the chest of draws behind her, "How many t-shirts do I need?" Electra asks, picking up her pile of various t-shirts with bands Clara had been a fan of sprawled across either, "And how do I choose?" Electra wonders aloud.
"It's only till Christmas," Iris says to reassure themselves, "We can get more then," she adds glancing down at her pile of jumpers that despite the reasonably large number it had been cut down.
Before anymore worrying can be done there is a knock at the door. The three soft knocks and with a quick rhythm, it was how their dad knocked on their door. "Knock knock," Andrew said as he pushed the door slightly.
"Come in," Iris said from her spot as the end of her bed was almost right next to the door.
Andrew Deveraux pokes his head through the door, not opening it fully, "How's packing coming along?" he asks his daughters.
"It's not," Electra says, glancing over at her dad with an annoyed expression on her face.
"You're always so negative, Electra," the voice of their Aunt Avery Deveraux said as she pushed open the door fully to stand next to her older brother. Who she was a whole twelve years younger than him, the now-deceased Mr and Mrs Deveraux had taken a very long break between them.
