fearless || d.m. x a.g.

05 - crying on the staircase (then)

1991

—

To Mordred and Priscilla, the manor is quieter without Daphne, but to Astoria, the manor is also scarier without Daphne.

It's barely been a month since Daphne started school at Hogwarts, but it feels like it's been years to Astoria. Day after day, she sits at the table to eat with her parents, with nothing to do but brace for whatever Mordred holds inside.

Astoria has never been one to take things for granted, but with Daphne gone, she knows she will cherish the days she has with her sisters more than ever before. She yearns to have someone to play cards with, to feed the cats that wander in the yard with, to braid hair with. She yearns so hard she thinks her heartstrings may snap.

She always knew that Daphne's departure to Hogwarts would arrive. She wishes she could have tried to not think about it, but as the day rapidly approached, she sat in anxious anticipation. Now, she wants more than anything else to turn back the time and relive their final weeks together.

Daphne's preparation for school had been rather exciting, and Astoria is sure it would have been even more interesting if she hadn't been so troubled with what lay ahead. While Daphne was busy swishing and tapping wands, all Astoria could focus on was how she'd memorized their father's own hand movements, knowing that would help her anticipate his next reactions. As Daphne browsed through cages of cats, owls, and toads, Astoria longed for someone who would take care of her and nurture her. When Mordred and Priscilla agreed to buy the girls ice cream, Astoria couldn't stop thinking about how that may be the last peaceful moment she felt in a long time.

In the end, Daphne left Diagon Alley with a wand of chestnut wood and unicorn hair and a cage with a small gray kitten under her arm. She had assured Astoria there would be many other students with owls and she would not neglect writing to her sister.

Still, the daily letters didn't seem to be enough to tide Astoria over.

She misses Daphne in the morning, when there is nobody to run into her room and ask if the flowers on her shirt match her pants. She misses Daphne in the afternoon, when there is nobody to take a walk in the garden with. She misses Daphne in the evening, when there is nobody to read books with over a hot cup of tea.

Still, she finds solace in a few comforts that make her feel closer to her older sister. As she sits in front of the pearly white and inky black keys, she wonders if there is a piano at Hogwarts and if her sister has kept up with her practice. Before she was old enough to play, Astoria would sit on the floor next to the instrument and watch as Daphne's hands floated across. Even when she missed a note or played the wrong one, Astoria admired her work.

She lifts her own hands up and they sofly land on the keys, starting off with her etudes. Her fingers don't glide smoothly the way Daphne's do; instead, they're stiff and her movements from key to key feel unnatural. Slowly her joints warm up and the piano sings sentences instead of fragmented words.

She walks over to the dark oakwood shelf, running her fingers back and forth along the booklets before she picks out the sheet music she needs. Her eyes linger on Daphne's side, where the pages collect dust. Not only is Daphne playing at a higher level because she has been learning for two years longer, but she is naturally adept at piano. In fact, every activity the Greengrasses signed their daughters up for, Daphne seemed to pick up nearly immediately — music, ballroom dancing, watercolor painting.

Astoria opens up the booklet, crisp sheets crinkling at the spine. Her pages aren't new, the way Daphne's are. In fact, her pages are old and yellow, cracking at lack of use. At the request of new sheet music, Priscilla immediately went into town for Daphne. But it always seemed Mordred felt it was a waste of money to buy new sheet music for Astoria, who was merely amateur.