Never Let Go

The woman was all I could think about. Her elegant face plagued my thoughts as I trudged behind my companions. I didn’t know who she was. I had never seen her face before, but the boy at her side, him I had seen. Only it hadn’t been him. It couldn’t have been him, because the picture from which I recognized him was well over twenty years old. He could not have been my mother’s brother, Lucius, but his face told me that he had to be related to him and as I wracked my mind, I remembered what my estranged cousin’s name was. Draco. His name was Draco and that was the name the woman had uttered.

So who was she?

Was she his mother, an aunt, or a close family friend?

I wanted to know who she was. I wanted to know why she seemed so genuinely surprised to see me, but most importantly, I wanted to know how she had recognized me. I wasn’t a member of their society. I had never been a part of it, nor would I ever.

So how did she know me? How the fuck, did she know?

I spent the rest of our time in Diagon Alley trying to make sense of the encounter. I tried making different stories for who she was, but I knew the only way I would truly know, was by telling Nan what had happened. Nan would freak out. I was certain she would, but I didn’t have another choice. I needed to know and she was the only one that could help me. So I waited as patiently as I could, praying that Nan would finish shopping for hats so that we could drop Jade and Chey off and go to the grocery store where I would ask her the questions I had lined up.

Perhaps someone else would’ve asked her in private, but I wasn’t the sort that asked Nan questions that could potentially freak her out, in private. I asked them in public so that she’d have to control herself and give me as calm a response as possible, because the only thing worse than getting no information, is having someone tell you information when they’re hysterical, because then you have to decode it and that’ll take hours if a person’s lucky enough to figure it out. So I would wait until we were at the muggle grocery store.

Two hours after entering the hat store, we left.

Nan dropped me off at home with our bags before escorting Chey and Jade to Chey’s house. I busied myself by putting the supplies away in the trunk that we had purchased, but there came a time when I grew so frustrated by the tedious process, that I began carelessly throwing the things inside, not caring about arranging them properly or about whether they would be break. I didn’t care if they broke, my mind was far to busy pondering the woman to care about anything else.

At a little before nine pm, Nan returned to the cottage and announced that it was time to go grocery shopping. Upon hearing the news I leapt from my place on the couch besides Grandpa. I ran up the stairs, throwing upon my bedroom so that I could search for the oversized purse which housed my supply of American dollars. I didn’t have much left, only sixty two bucks, but I knew that it’d be enough for the feast that I was going to make.

Once I’d found the purse, I flung it over my shoulder and bolted to the living room where Nan sat waiting for me. She stood when she saw me run down the stairs and kissed Grandpa’s cheeks goodbye. She then took me into her arms and apparated us to a small alley near La Crawford.

“Can you smell that?” I asked as I breathed in deeply.

“Smell what?” inquired Nan as she fixed her hair.

“The beautiful Los Angeles smog!” another deep breath was taken. “There’s nothing like it.”

“Keep breathing like that and your allergies are going to flare up.” She warned.

“Awe Nan, don’t spoil the fun. Enjoy it.”

“Only you would refer to smog as fun.” Nan sighed. “But that’s what makes you, you. Come along Millie, we need to get things ready so that we can get to bed, it’s getting late.”

“Alright, but do you think we can have a late dinner at the store?”

“Just because the sun’s out, that doesn’t mean that it’s a decent hour to eat. It’s already nine in England and you can’t have a meal right now and go to sleep.”

“Please Nan, we don’t come here often.”

“Emilia –”

“Come on Nan,” I pouted, giving her the puppy dog eyes as I did so.

“Oh alright, but if you get a tummy ache, don’t be asking me to tend to you.”

“I won’t, promise.” A grateful kiss was quickly placed on her cheek. I then linked my hand with hers and we began the walk to La Crawford.

The streets were bustling with people whom wore large grins on their faces and talked animatedly in Spanish. I loved El Monte for that reason. The people that lived there just seemed so vibrant and full of life, those were the type of people that I loved to be around. I felt more alive with their energy and whenever I was around them, I had an extra bounce in my step. Nan always joked by saying that I felt most alive with them, because I had been conceived in Mexico, whether or not that was true, I didn’t know, but it sounded like a valid truth.

La Crawford was brimming with people when we stepped inside its massive automatic doors that granted entrance to the entryway that was filled with small shops. There were people at the jewelry stores, others at the party supply store and still more in the shop that contained what seemed like the latest fashions from Mexico. I only say that because there were cowboy boots and huge hats that didn’t scream mainstream America to me.

We maneuvered our way through the crowds, reaching the main area of the grocery store. It was decorated in a traditional Mexican style and it smelled of rich food that my stomach hungered for. I grabbed a shopping cart and handed it to Nan whom began to push it through the store. The items on the list were easily found and once we had all of them, we went to the check out line where we paid for everything.

“Are you still hungry?” asked Nan as she pushed the cart.

“That’s like asking me if I like living, the answer is a very strong, resounding hell yeah.”

“Alright, but you’re not getting anything to heavy. It’s late and I won’t have you up till four.”

“Telling someone to eat Mexican food and not eat something heavy is like taking someone to a bar and asking them not to drink. Can’t be done,” I muttered.

Nan chuckled. “By heavy, I meant not ordering four things and then devouring them. Only one item and a drink, understood?”

“Only because you’re paying,” I replied.

“Since when am I paying?”

“Since I spent all my money on the groceries and candles,” a faint blush made its way onto my cheeks.

No further words were spoken by her. She merely led us towards the food court section of the store where I ordered a burrito de lengua and horchata. Within five minutes the food was ready. I took it to the table that Nan had claimed for us and almost instantaneously began to dig in. It wasn’t until I was halfway done with the burrito that I remembered what I was going to ask her.

“Nan, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“If this about you wanting to join the Order, the answer is no.”

“It’s not about that.” I assured.

“Then what is it, dear?”

I placed the burrito on the plastic plate. “Um, something happened at Diagon Alley. Nothing bad, but it was just weird. You see, when we were walking to the hat shop, I was lingering in the back, wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary, but then this woman called my name.”

“Did you recognize her?” she inquired.

“That’s the thing, I’ve never seen her in my life,” I closed my eyes, remembering her every feature. “She was beautiful. She had pale skin that was blemish free and eyes that seem to look right through me, her hair was blonde and pulled up tightly, stretching her skin. I’ve never seen her before, but she called my name and she looked at me like she was staring at someone she knew.”

Nan paid closer attention. “Did she happen to say anything else?”

“No, this guy showed up and asked her who I was. She told him that I was no one and looked at me one last time before she left. The weird thing is that I recognize the guy. Well not exactly him, because I'm sure that he’s not the guy in the pictures that I’ve seen, but he looks just like him.”

“What pictures? Who are you talking about?”

“He looks exactly like my mom’s brother. It really tripped me out and I remember you telling me that Lucius had a son named Draco, that woman called the guy, Draco so I think that that’s Lucius’ kid but I don’t know who she is and I definitely don’t know how she recognized me. The last time I was in England, I was skinny and eleven. I'm chubby now; way chubbier than I was then and I’ve never been in that part of society so I don’t know how she’d know me.”

“Anyone that knew your mother, would recognize her eyes,” whispered Nan. “And judging by your description I would say that the woman was Narcissa, Lucius’ wife and Draco’s mother.”

“But why would she call me? She’s married to Lucius, he hated my mum, that’s why he pressed for their parents to disown her,” I mused aloud. “Why would she talk to me? That doesn’t seem like something she should do.”

“I wish I had an answer to questions, but I don’t. All I know is that I don’t like the fact that she talked to you. I don’t trust The Malfoys, not one bit.” Her brow creased with worry. “Finish eating your burrito, we have to get going, it’s nearly ten thirty.”

She didn’t speak after that. She merely sat there, staring into the distance with a look that told me not to interrupt her. I wanted to know what was going through her mind. I bet that she was worrying, that was what Nan always did and I dreaded what the repercussions of my telling her would be. I feared that she would get more paranoid, that she would force Mitzi to go to Hogwarts with me or worse, she herself would go. Nan was capable of that. I knew she was.

When we arrived at the cottage, Nan bid me goodnight and rushed to find Grandpa. I didn’t see her again after that. I was half tempted to knock on her door just to find out what was going on, but decided against it. It would be rude to barge in on them when it was so obvious that she wanted privacy.

Sleep refused to visit me on that night.

I twisted and turned, desperately trying to find a position that would invite sleep but found none. Frustrated by my inability to sleep, I found myself walking down the hall to my grandparent’s room. I let myself in, knowing very well that they were expecting me. They always expected me on the nights that marked the anniversaries of my mother’s deaths and seeing as how midnight ushered in July 9th, the anniversary of when Voldemort took my mother from me, they had left their door unlocked and a candle on their vanity to light my way.

I didn’t bother telling them that I was in the room. I simply lifted the covers from Nan’s side of the bed and slipped underneath. I nestled into her, resting my head on her outstretched hand. Her free arm snacked around my waist, pulling me closer to her.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she whispered.

“No,” I replied ever so quietly.

“That’s alright dear, you’ll fall asleep soon enough.” She paused before adding. “Do you want me to sing?”

“Yes, please.” I turned to face here.

Nan placed a kiss on my forehead before she began singing. “Golden slumber kiss your eyes, smiles await you when you rise. Sleep, pretty baby, do not cry and I’ll sing you a lullaby. Care you know not, therefore sleep. While I o’er you watch do keep. Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry and I will sing a lullaby.”

Her soft voice lulled me into a tranquil slumber.

That morning I woke well before dawn and slipped out of Nan’s hold so that I could get a head start on cooking. The first thing I did was take the corn husks from the water that they’d spent the night in. I then began cooking the pork meat as well as making the red and green chile that would accompany the meat. I finished the making the chile in twenty minutes. The meat took an hour to be done just right and when it was done. I grabbed a corn husk, smothered it with tamale dough and placed the meat and chile inside it. When the food was secured inside, I folded the corn husk so that the food was trapped and placed it in the large pot.

Three hours later, the tamales were ready.

And by that time, I had also finished baking as well as making a few other dishes. Feeling satisfied with my performance, I had an early breakfast by myself which was followed by a long shower. When I stepped out of the bath, I searched through my closet, looking for the perfect clothes to wear. I stopped looking when I spotted a baby blue pleated chiffon dress that I had gotten at a thrift store a few years earlier. The dress was one that I hadn’t worn before, but it was perfect for the occasion.

I took my time getting ready, skillfully applying the makeup as well as putting product into my curls. I wanted to look good because today would be a day of celebration. I was going to celebrate my mother’s life like it was meant to be.

Now that I was ready, I began packing up the pictures and candles that I would use to build the altar on her grave. Packing everything up proved to be more difficult than I had planned, but I managed to get everything safely bundled up and when I took them out back so that I could tie them onto my bicycle, I somehow made it work.

The food was placed into the large basket on the front of the bike and the flowers that I had bought plucked from the garden were going to be carried by Mitzi whom was going to sit on my lap. It was going to be a lot of weight on the poor bicycle. Thankfully, it had been magically reinforced so it would pull through the ordeal; at least I hoped it would.

“Shoot,” I cursed when we were about to leave the house.

“What happened?” asked Mitzi from her place at the table.

“I don’t have room to put the record player and the records on the bike.” I told her.

“Do not worry. Mitzi will shrink them so they fit in Millie’s purse!”

“You can do that?”

“Mitzi can do anything!” she proudly exclaimed. “Where are Millie’s record player and records?”

“By the door,” I motioned towards them.

Mitzi hopped off the table and raced towards the door. She then closed her eyes, clearly concentrating on something and then the pile began to shrink until it was small enough to fit in the bag.

With that settled, we exited the house and jumped onto the bicycling, beginning the short ride to the massive willow tree where both my parents had been buried. That tree had been the same tree where they’d been married.

As soon as I got off the bike, I began work on the altar. It wasn’t going to be a massive altar, just a small one where I’d be able to place pictures and a few candles. Since I wasn’t particularly skilled with tools, it took a good half hour or so for me to set it up but when I finished it was just as I had envisioned it would be.

I then threw a brightly colored cloth over the altar and began placing the different framed photos on it. Some of the pictures were from youth, others from her wedding and the most important ones, at least to me, were the ones that my parents and I were in together. Once the photos were in their place, I began to set the small white candles and then I placed a large bowl and filled it with tamales. I sprinkled the other food throughout the altar.

After I finished the altar, I grabbed a blanket that I had packed and laid it down on the grass. Mitzi helped me smooth it out and we placed the record player and vinyls on it. She was kind enough to return them to their regular size and I put on a vinyl from my mother’s favorite artist, Otis Redding.

“How does it look Mitzi?”

“Beautiful! Mitzi thinks it better than last years.”

“Agreed and I think the food came out better this year.” I lay down on the blanket, staring at the tombstone with a small smile. “I hope you like it mom.”

“Mitzi knows that Adelaide would have loved it.”

“Hopefully,” my eyes flickered to the bright blue sky. “I hope Nan and Grandpa get here soon. I want to have lunch already.”

Mitzi’s ears twitched. “Mitzi hears someone coming, maybe it’s them.”

“About time you guys showed up I was . . . Ron?”

There in all his gingery glory was Ron.

“Emi, Mitzi, how goes it?” he held a bouquet of wildflowers in his hands.

“It’s going good, but what are you doing here?”

“Just leaving flowers for you mum,” he held them up. “Do it every year, usually earlier in the day, but had to do some chores at home so I couldn’t come sooner.”

“You’re the one that always leaves flowers?”

“Yeah, who’d you think it was? Fred or George?” he chuckled awkwardly. “I’ll get going if you like. I know you probably want to be alone and . . . yeah.”

I stood from my place on the blanket. “You don’t have to go. You should stay for lunch; I made some of my mom’s favorite food so you’re more than welcomed to join us. My Nan and Grandpa are also coming.”

“Did you just say that you made her favorite food?”

“Mhm,” I answered.

“Why? It’s not like she’s going to eat it.”

“I know she’s not going to eat it, but its part of the tradition.”

“What tradition?” Ron was clearly confused. “We don’t make food for the dead and we don’t make fancy altars either. We take flowers.”

“It’s not an English tradition, it’s Mexican. I learned it from my friend and I liked it so I started doing it. This is my third altar and I think it came out nice.”

“So Mexican’s make this a party?”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing. I happen to like the fact that they make colorful altars and put food for them and music and pray. It makes this into a day of celebration instead of mourning and that’s something that I really like.”

“It’s not bad, just strange,” explained Ron. “Who’s that lady?”

I turned to look at who he was talking about. “That’s the Virgin of Guadalupe or Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe as she’s known in Spanish. In Catholic tradition she’s the mother of Jesus and in a sense the mother of all mankind. I know it’s weird for a witch to have her here, but I really liked her story and the idea that there’s this mother looking out for us even when she’s not physically there really resonates with me so that’s why she’s here. Feel free to laugh if you want.”

“I won’t laugh at you even though I do think you’re mental.”

“That’s real love.” I joked.

“Damn straight, now, can I put these flowers down or do I have to do some strange ritual so I can do that?”

“Quit being a smartass.”

“Just asking,” Ron smiled playfully.

“You can just put them down.”

Ron knelt down before the tombstone and placed the flowers before it.

“So what do we do now?” Ron stood beside me.

“Well we can’t eat, have to wait for Nan and Grandpa but the song that comes after this one is real rad.”

“Ah, mindblowingly amazing,” Ron repeated the definition that I had given him weeks earlier.

“Exactly and it’s a real rad song that we can dance to, so what do you say?”

“Really?” he groaned. “You know I'm not good at dancing.”

“That’s more of a reason to dance! Think of this as practice that will help you get better.”

“Emi –“

“Ron, please.”

Ron let out a defeated sigh. “I guess we can dance, but you better not bloody tell anyone because if you do, I won’t talk to you, alright?”

“Alright,” I took his hand in mind, ready for the song to begin.