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——THE UNFORGIVABLES
"GINNY, IF YOU DON'T STOP MOVING, I SWEAR TO MERLIN," EFFIE SAID FOR THE NTH TIME THAT AFTERNOON, ROLLING HER EYES CONTINUOUSLY BEHIND HER CANVAS.
"My back was itching!" Ginny defended with a pout, resuming her position again for Effie to draw her.
Effie grew a love for art when she was younger—it was the first thing she discovered that could calm her down, a hobby that didn't need much physical effort.
It was therapeutic, she would admit, and compelling too. The portraits were frozen in time—Effie could just look at it and remember the dozen memories that laid and inscribed itself with the paint.
At first, her dad, being the worry-wart he was, was reluctant to even let her get into it—but Effie didn't care. Why would she let this—this disorder in her lungs stop her from discovering what she loved?
Eleazar and Effie often argued about it before—Effie was all he had, of-fucking-course he would be hellbent on Effie's safety and happiness. He wouldn't stop until there's a smile on her face, so long as it didn't threaten her health—because it was the same damn health ailment that her mum fell victim to.
So Effie drew. She painted, and sketched, and etched into a canvas what image she could conjure in her mind, always so intoned with the colors.
Effie stuck to the charcoals, though. She never brought her acrylics to school because none of her friends would understand.
. . . Well, Pansy would—but if anyone slanders Effie for using muggle supplies, Pansy would surely defend her.
They had a reputation. Effie couldn't just ruin it like that. Her asthmatic situation and using muggle prescription drugs for it were already enough giveaway.
"Does anybody else know that you are amazing at drawing?" Ginny spoke up again after a comfortable silence. Effie's head snapped towards her in surprise. . . no one outside her family ever complimented her drawing before.
"Only you," Effie says after a moment, and blinked, clearing her throat. "Outside of family, of course."
