The Sunrise of My Heart

I spent the rest of the day slowly unpacking, hanging my clothes up in that huge closet. I knew I'd have to pack them all up again in a month, but it felt nice to have something to do. Then, I pulled out all of the clothes she had gotten for me and closely assessed them. Most of them were very cute clothes I could wear on a daily basis-jeans, shirts of all kinds, skirts-but some of them were beautiful dresses I doubted I'd ever have the opportunity to wear. They were so lovely and decadent, and I didn't want to waste them, so I decided to try them on.
There were only seven of the dresses, but that seemed like plenty. There was a floor length red chiffon dress with spaghetti straps, a fitted bodice, and a ruched waistline; a rose pink dress made of silk with a full skirt and crystal sequins, lined with taffeta and faced with net; one was a black knee-length dress made of taffeta with a lace belt around the bodice and pleated halter top that created a v-neckline; my favorite, however, was a white floor-length gown made of satin. It would have been strapless, but it had sequined embellishments at the center of the waist that extended up to make halter straps. It was mostly backless, the straps extending in the back to hold the dress up. It was elegant and simply beautiful.
With a sigh, I pulled the dress off and put it back in my closet, shutting the doors quietly. Being in this old house, surrounded by these beautiful things, made me feel like everything I did had to be quiet in reverence to the hard work that had gone into making and preserving them. With nothing else to do, and since I was already in my underwear, I decided to crawl into the bed. It was huge and soft and the comfiest thing I'd ever slept in.
When I woke up, the sky outside my windows was a dull gray, meaning the sun had just set. I got out of bed and pulled on a loose nightgown that I found in my closet. Then, I left my room and began wandering around the house in search of the kitchen. I knew it would be on the ground floor, so that narrowed my search quite a bit. I was able to find it rather easily, so I set about making myself something to eat.
"Okay, what have we got?" I perused the kitchen, eventually grabbing all the necessary items to make a sandwich. While I got to work making it, I allowed my mind to wander. I wondered what my life would have been like if I weren't cursed. If I had simply been born the half-blood daughter of Gabriel Carson. I wouldn't be an orphan, because both of my parents had been murdered by someone pissed about my inability to fully die. I wouldn't have nightmares all the time, or painful memories of lost lives and loves. I would just be a witch at Hogwarts, with boy drama, friends, and the greatest parents anyone could ask for. Things would be so much simpler.
"Trying to find all the answers to life in that tomato slice?" Great aunt Iris had walked up behind me while I was making my sandwich, and I had become lost in my thoughts and stopped making the sandwich.
"Just thinking," I said, going back to making my sandwich. "Do you want one?"
She smiled and shook her head. "No, thank you, dear. But I was going to make some herbal tea. Would you like any?"
"Sure."
I finished making my food while she set about making tea. I frowned, suddenly noticing all of the Muggle appliances in her kitchen. She didn't seem to need he'd wand for anything. She even made tea the Muggle way, using a teapot instead of her wand.
"Do you not use magic?" I asked, watching her do everything manually.
"I stopped using my magic just over fifteen years ago."
"Why?" I asked, shocked. I had never heard of a witch or wizard renouncing their powers.
"Because magic brought me many sorrows."
We sat in silence for a few minutes before the teapot whistled. She got up and brought out a lovely China tea set.
"Would you like sugar or creamer in your tea?"
"Bit if both, please," I answered. She complied, adding the two until I motioned for her to stop. I ate my sandwich and drank my tea, wondering what had caused her to abandon her magic. There appeared to be many secrets in her life.
"I'm sorry I never visited," she said suddenly. "Before and after your father's death."
"Why didn't you? My mom could have used some company while I was gone."
"Some things are simply hard to do, and hard to explain. You might not understand."
I gave a soft laugh at that. "Oh, I understand. Better than most, actually."
"Well, you have endured many hardships. More than any child should ever have to."
"You've no idea," I said softly.
She raised an eyebrow at me but didn't comment.
"It's complicated," I said. "And a long story."
"Well, do you have anything better to do with your night than explain?" she challenged.
"I'll explain my hardships if you explain yours," I offered.
"My son died. Because of magic."
"I'm the reincarnation of Slytherin's whore, and my parents were murdered by someone who knows the truth."
"Hmm..." she said, frowning at me.
"I'm not making it up. Dumbledore can confirm it for you."
She got up and walked over to her cupboards, rummaging around in the back. When she came back, she was holding a bottle of firewhiskey.
"This calls for something a bit stronger than tea," she said, pouring a fair amount into both of our cups.
And so we drank our spiked tea, silently toasting each other's pain and endurance. It was an excellent bonding moment.