Gemini Lupin-Black stood at a crossroads, her heart a tumultuous blend of anger and concern over Harry Potter. The summer had unfolded like a vibrant tapestry, woven with threads of joy and creativity, yet the shadow of Harry's silence loomed large. It was a peculiar contradiction; all things considered, this summer had been nothing short of enchanting.
On her birthday, July 13th, her father, Remus Lupin, had surprised her with an easel and a set of paints—gifts that sparked an untold joy within her. Painting was not merely a hobby; it was her guilty pleasure, a vibrant escape from the trials of her young life. With countless canvases now adorned with her colorful creations, she had transformed every permissible wall in their cozy home into a gallery of her imagination. Each brushstroke was a testament to her feelings, her dreams, and her experiences. It didn't hurt that being grounded meant her treasured trunk of joke products—the one she had meticulously planned to share with Fred and George—was now firmly stashed under her father's bed, out of reach, a constant reminder of her thwarted plans.
To ease her disappointment, she found herself frequently flooing to the Weasley household while Remus taught summer classes. The grand expanse of their home became a playground filled with laughter and camaraderie, a sanctuary where she could forget her worries. The twins were her constant companions; they often engaged in spirited debates over Quidditch statistics with Ron, their voices rising and falling like the rhythm of a lively match. They frequently braided Ginny's hair, transforming her into a living doll adorned with colorful ribbons. Grateful for the Weasley family's generous meals, she brought her dad plates piled high with Mrs. Weasley's scrumptious cooking, the aroma of roasted chicken and freshly baked bread wafting through the air. Though Remus always made sure they had food, the dry biscuits he often provided paled in comparison to the Weasley feasts, which were a veritable cornucopia of flavors and textures. And on nights of the full moon, her dad's majestic wolf form ran free alongside her own animagus, a sight she cherished deeply, a bond that transcended words.
Gemini had even managed to convince Remus to let her stay with Hermione and her family for a few days, despite his protective instincts. The Granger household was surprisingly laid-back, a stark contrast to the bustling Weasley home. It intrigued her, as Hermione's own nature often suggested strictness and order. Together, they roamed the vibrant streets of London, losing track of time in art museums and libraries, their laughter echoing against the marble walls. They shared picnics that felt timeless under the sun, the warmth of the day wrapping around them like a cozy blanket. The summer was a canvas painted with joy, laughter, and a few smudges of paint, each moment a brushstroke in the masterpiece of her life.
Yet, amidst all this bliss, one shadow loomed large—Harry bloody Potter. Not a single letter had he bothered to respond to, and that was particularly galling given that he professed to have feelings for someone. She had even baked him a batch of treacle tarts for his birthday, their golden crusts glistening with a sugary glaze, only for him to neglect sending a thank-you note. Gemini Lupin-Black did not chase after boys; it was always the other way around. The thought of Harry's indifference stung like a sharp thorn, and she found herself spiraling into a whirlpool of frustration.
That evening, while sharing dinner with the Weasley family, the wholesome warmth of potato soup in her bowl couldn't dispel the chill of her thoughts. The rich, creamy texture of the soup was comforting, yet it felt inadequate against the backdrop of her swirling emotions. She found herself ruminating on Harry while attempting to plot his hypothetical demise. Unlike Voldemort, she was convinced that she could execute her plans with impeccable precision. "I'm worried about Harry," Ron muttered, pulling her from her musings.
"Why?" she snapped, her tone sharper than intended. The twins flinched slightly at her words, and she took a deep breath to quell her irritation, the warmth of the soup contrasting with the coldness in her heart.
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SABAISM | H. POTTER
FanfictionSABAISM (noun) : The worship of stars. For centuries, people have looked up to the stars and became instantaneously bewitched due to the pinpricks of light. Such an enigma they are, burning bright in the darkest of atmospheres. Never snuffed by the...
