Track This Story: Feed
|Ch. #||Chapter Title||Word Count||Reviews|
'It had all started because of Dudley in the first place, and Darcy has taken a vindictive pleasure in blaming him completely. At the insistence of his fancy school due to an issue of sizing him for a new uniform, Aunt Petunia had forced the entire household to follow a very strict diet so as not to discourage Dudley.'
'At Privet Drive, Darcy would never be allowed to eat such copious amounts of food, and she especially would never be allowed to eat dinner upon the sofa while watching mindless television, nor would Aunt Petunia ever allow her to sleep so much throughout the day.'
'Emily had always thought Darcy a little odd for getting so excited about going places -- the theater, the library, the grocery, the lake -- but Emily had never understood. Years of being cooped up at Privet Drive without being able to go out and do things (primarily because of a lack of Muggle money and a suspicious uncle) leaves Darcy feeling restless.'
“You’ll come visit me, won’t you?” she whispers, resuming her kissing his face. His eyes fall shut again and he continues to smile as Darcy’s lips leave tender kisses on every inch of his face. She drapes her arms around his neck. “When I’m at Hogwarts? Just like I’ll come to visit, too?”
“I’m sure something can be arranged,” he says, his eyelashes fluttering against Darcy’s cheek. “But if you want to continue this, we should consider telling Sirius.”
She’s quickly come to learn that freedom is hard. Choices are hard. It’s so much easier when other people make decisions for her.
“You’re the closest thing to a father I’ve ever known, and I hardly know you. I don’t even remember my own.”
Mr. Weasley smiles and Darcy thinks she sees his eyes shine wet with tears for the briefest of moments. “In another life, you’d have been my daughter,” he tells her. “You would have been loved and wanted, at home with people who cared for you, and none of this would ever have happened to you.”
“There are acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest, spiders that almost ate Harry, Ron, and I, by the way,” she continues, scoffing, “and there was a basilisk Petrifying people that same year, plus the three-headed-dog in the school, not to mention one of our professors had Voldemort on the back of his head --”
“Please, Darcy, you’re hysterical,” Emily says, and her voice is so soft and unconcerned that it ignites a fire in Darcy. “Would you let me speak?”
It’s relaxing, the excited buzz of conversation all around them and the smell of breakfast cooking over fires, watching small demonstrations of magic from other campsites (despite the rules having clearly stated that magic should be kept to an absolute minimum).
JOIN HARRY POTTER FANFICTION
Get access to every new feature the moment it comes out.Register Today!