𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄 chapter twenty-eight; Wise Words Of A Witch " Do not distance yourself from a loved one because of fear, or worry of what might come. "
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THE FACT THAT Elizabeth Gerard slept, ate, and lingered in a short distance from Hogwarts did not sit well within Salem Gerard. The redhead could live out her days in peace, overall. Laughing with Lily, two spring girls with fire hair that matched the re-birth of nature after a long winter, finding time between classes to sneak a kiss with James, teaching Sirius better strategies for chess— it was all easy.
But every now and then, when Salem had to stop to breathe or listen in class or she just thought too much, her mother's words haunted her. Elizabeth's very presence, although not in the castle, pulled Salem from her steady stride. Like the woman was the moon, suddenly too close to the sea that was her daughter, sending tsunamis over freshly built homes.
Salem didn't like it.
And James would say the same thing, when he saw that familiar look on her face, when he swore he could hear the gears turning in her head.
"Talk to her, Sal. Letting it go unresolved is bad for everyone."
But Salem was stubborn. As a mule. She had planted her feet and decided she'd not be going. She wouldn't speak to her mother, because Salem knew Elizabeth wouldn't listen. She may hear her, but she was never one to listen.
Of course, the only thing that could budge a stubborn red-head was a scarier, smarter, and far more determined witch.
"Ms. Gerard."
"Hey, McGonagall."
The woman stared down at Salem through her thin glasses, eyebrows raised furthering her feline features.
"Mr. Potter is concerned for your wellbeing."
"He always is."
"You know, Salem," McGonagall began, gently claiming the space beside Salem in the window seat, "I've been in love before."
Salem suddenly perked up, interested in the older witch's history.
"You were?"
"Of course, I haven't always been this old."
The redhead smiled.
"So? What was his name?"
"Dougal McGregor was the first boy I loved," The woman sighed out, "He was a muggle-- of course. But we laughed together, we argued, and we saw something in one another that neither of us had seen in anyone else."
"Where is Mr. McGregor today?"
"He asked me to marry him and I left."
"What?" Salem blurted, not seeming to notice the woman dodging her question, "Why would you do that?"
