Circi | 2

TWENTY SEVEN

"Share the load"

New Year, 1997

Christmas at the Rier estate was far jollier than any she had experienced at home. In fact, for the first time ever, Circi would be having a sleepover with her best friends and would wake up on Christmas morning to her mother shaking her gently awake with a mug of hot chocolate in hand.

In the few days between Christmas day and New Year's eve, Mica and Leslie had made their way to the estate to spend the new year. The festivities never stopped and, while they were as extravagant as a Malfoy Christmas, it was clear that Serenity looked out of place among the family. At dinner she barely spoke, even to her own father, simply chewing on endless second helpings and looking between the conversation.

The night Mica was expected to arrive, Circi sat in the study that inhabited her aunt Merritt's portrait across from her mother sipping freshly brewed tea.

"How is it?" Serenity asked, hesitant and cradling her own mug in her hands. Her lips were chewed raw, her cheeks gaunt despite months of recovery. And, despite her appearance, she treated Circi like the ghost between them.

"It's good." Circi responded, pinching her lips. "You don't have to be careful with me."

"Hm,"

"Mum," putting her mug down, Circi leaned forward and pulled the sleeves of her shirt over her hands, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing," they fell into silence. Serenity glanced up at her sister above the fireplace but the woman was gone, only a backdrop of the forest she saw each night before bed. "I'm not who you think I am. Not whatever Lucius made me, not what my father made me and definitely not what you thought I am." She pointed a shaky finger at Circi's head. "My whole life- everything I've done- did- has brought me here... to you. And I can't be who you expect me to be." 

Despite the strain on her voice, there were no tears in Serenity's eyes. She was spent of tears, of the sadness and desperation which had wracked her body every day since her escape. And, though her hands shook, she could not banish her anxiety so easily. She looked at her hands again, shaking around the mug and making the tea inside splash over. She tried to stop it, hold back the telltale sign that she was not wholly home, but she shook more so. Circi moved forward to hold her hands steady and, for a moment, Serenity could see only love in her daughter's eyes and a sadness that had riddled her own childhood.

"I just want my mum." Circi told her in a quiet voice as someone knocked on the door. When she turned to answer, Serenity let her lip tremble and she wiped away a stray tear. Behind the door, there was a commotion and when Circi opened it she was just about tackled to the floor by Mica and Leslie. The mood in the room brightened as the three tussled on the floor with each other. Serenity's laugh drew their attention and the guests stood straight. "Guys, this is my mum. Mum..." she gestured to the two of them, "Mica, Leslie." Serenity nodded politely, forcing herself to drink her tea.

"Hi, Mum," Mica waved slightly before crossing her arms behind her back, rocking on her feet. Leslie merely nodded politely but said nothing, his shoes looking bigger next to Mica in her socks.

"Right, um," Circi backed towards the door, fingers wrapped in Mica's sleeve, "I should show them my room."

They left the study as Merritt's portrait returned and navigated the corridors to Circi's newly decorated bedroom. It was one of the bigger rooms, unused for years since the death of its earlier inhabitants. Hayley had told her about the night her great Aunt Dara had unknowingly led her sons to an untimely death at the hands of He-who-must-not-be-named. It was a heartbreaking story, certainly not one she liked to think about during the festive season.