vi·sion·ar·y
/ˈviZHəˌnerē/
adjective: visionary
1.
relating to or able to see visions in a dream or trance, or as a supernatural apparition.
The story of a kind Hufflepuff who wishes no one would feel as alone as she does and an in denial Gryffin...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
══════ ∘◦ ☼ ◦∘ ══════
Trigger Warning!!
"We have to go down there for lunch."
"Don't remind me," Addy slightly groaned. Her voice muffled by the pillow she was hiding her face in.
Sebastian looked at her, amusement and sympathy swirling in his eyes. He didn't know what was worse; that he found it funny she was acting like a toddler who didn't want to eat her vegetables or the fact that she was acting this way because the previous night their father had screamed in her face. She had every right not to want to go down for lunch, but unfortunately, that wasn't a choice. They both knew that.
The Hufflepuff turned her head and looked at her brother, "Do you think there's going to be bread?"
Bash pulled a face, "Seriously? Bread?"
Addy just shrugged, not caring how stupid it sounded. "I want bread and butter."
Before he could respond, Holmes appeared at the foot of her bed with a letter in his tiny hands. Bash sat up and took the paper from him, a hesitant smile on his face. "What's this?"
"A schedule, sir. Mrs. Greenwood requested I give it to you, sir." Holmes disappeared instantly, not allowing the siblings a chance to question him further.
Sebastion frowned at the spot where the house elf once stood and then started unfolding the paper. Addy sat up onto her knees and leaned over his shoulder to read it with him. Her body stiffened as she looked over the words, suddenly feeling like her stomach was going to come out of her throat.
"He's coming tonight?"
"Yeah..." Bash gulped, his hands trembling. "We have breakfast with him tomorrow morning."
Adelaide slowly lowered herself onto the bed, her legs dangling off the edge. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and nodded in an attempt to force confidence into herself. "Okay, so what? It's a breakfast with Voldemort. We can handle it. We can chit-chat about murdering muggles while eating some toast. No biggie."
"You'd get bread."
The brunette turned her head to look at her brother with squinted eyes. The two of them were using joking words, but couldn't quite get their tones or faces to match their humor. They felt like they were stuck — trapped. There wasn't anything else to do except ride out the storm and wait to see what came next.
