Have You Ever Seen the Rain?

”I am very sorry for your loss.” Dumbledore said quietly. “You both have been excused from classes for the week. You have my express permission to leave the school for London if you so desire.”

Matilda’s shoulders shook with sobs.

“Your mother was a great witch. and a wonderful woman.”

Sylvia felt numb. “Thank you professor.”

She stood and gathered her sister and lead her out of the office, down the moving stairs, down more stairs, through a secret passageway, down the hall. She mumbled the password at the Fat Lady and pulled Matilda into the common room. Everyone shrank back, seeing the seventh year Slytherine supported by her sister. Matilda cried, and cried, and cried.

“Syl!” Fred exclaimed, daring to walk forward. “She can’t be here - “

“Fuck off, Fred.” Sylvia said hoarsely, pulling Matilda past him and to the girl’s staircase.

Sylvia pulled her twin up to her room and put her into her own bed, then went into the bathroom. She turned on only the hot water and sat under the jet, turning her skin red. Only then, when no one could hear her, did she cry for her mother.

After about half an hour, when she felt light headed from the steam filling the room, Sylvia pulled herself up and turned off the water. She dried herself off and got dressed again, then shook her hair out. Matilda had stopped crying, and was lying on the bed, staring into space.

Sylvia touched her sister’s hair. “Don’t worry, Matty. I’ll take care of it.”

Matilda closed her eyes, and Sylvia turned and walked away. on the way down the stairs she ran into Alicia.

“I kept everyone away from the dorm.” she said. “Is everything…”

Sylvia took her best friend’s hand. “My mother is dead.” she said quietly.

Alicia froze.

“I need you to go upstairs and keep an eye on Matilda.” Sylvia said, taking a deep breath. “She’ll pretend to sleep, but make sure she doesn’t try to leave until tomorrow.”

“What are you doing?”

“I have some things to sort out. I’ll be back soon.”

Alicia hugged her friend tightly, then let her go. Sylvia worked in her own ways. Sylvia pulled on her cloak and went downstairs. The common room was nearly empty, everyone at dinner. She walked quickly all the way to the ground floor and out of the castle, keeping her head down and her hood over her wet hair. The night was cold, and she didn’t care in the slightest.

She finally reached her destination. a large flat rock that hung over the edge of the lake. She sat and stared out over the edge, her cloak drawn tightly around her.

She didn’t know how long she had sat there before she heard footsteps and someone sat heavily next to her.

“This is a nice spot.” George said. “Bit dark though.”

“Why are you here?” Sylvia asked quietly. “It’s cold. Go inside.”

“Nope. I’m good.” He put an arm around her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“My mum’s dead.” She heard him take a sharp breath. “She was killed on an order mission. It will be written up as a werewolf attack.”

“Syl - “

“It’s fine.” She scanned the dark far edges of the lake. “One day, when it’s all over, I’ll get it fixed. I’m leaving for London tomorrow. I’ll have her buried and I’ll take care of her things.”

“Syl, are you okay?”

She took a deep breath, and the cold air stung her nose and throat. Her entire body hurt and ached for her mother. She felt dried up, like that crying in the shower had dehydrated her. And wherever George’s body was pressed her hers felt like it was on fire, if only because she felt so cold.

But in that terribly sad moment, she was alive. And therefore, she was still going forward.

“Not really.” she said honestly. “But, I will be. Eventually.”

She felt him press his lips to the top of her head, and then rest there. “We should get back inside soon. Before you freeze.”

“Can we just sit here for a moment?” Sylvia asked quietly. “I just want to sit here with you for a minute. I feel like as soon as I get up and go back inside, everything will change.”

“Sure.” he said quietly. “We can do that.”

~*~

The first thing Sylvia noticed the next morning was that there was no food in the flat. No coffee either. Even though Matilda had been in a rush when she left, she had managed to clear out all the food. Sylvia checked the ashtray next to the bread box and found five sickles, and set out with a prayer that the grocer was open.

When she got outside, though, she saw something much closer. Evelyn was standing with her back to the windows of her tea room, her hand on her hip. And though the stickers on the window said she wasn’t open until ten, the lights were on.

Sylvia tried the door and when it opened she stepped inside.

“Don’t you give me that sass, Jackie.” Evelyn said, looking very sassy herself. “Just go to the store and get some goddamn cucumbers for the goddamn sandwiches. Is it my fault that these bloody palms like cucumber so much? No!”

A short, dark skinned scowling woman passed Sylvia at the door, pulling a thick ski jacket over her chef coat.

“I take offense to that.” a familiar voice said.

Sylvia looked over in shock to find George sitting at one of the tables, not looking up from his paper.

“Shut up.” Evelyn finally looked over at Sylvia. “Oh, hi Sylvia! How are you?”

George looked up. “Oh. Hi, Syl.”

Evelyn looked between the two of them. “You know each other?”

“We were friends in school.” Sylvia clarified. “Could I borrow some coffee? I just realized, I have no food in the house.”

“I’ll do you one better.” Evelyn said. “Sit. Have a paper. I’ll get you a cup. Milk? Sugar?”

“Both, please.”

Sylvia sat in the seat to George’s right and reached for the sports pages.

“Puddlemore lost.” he supplied.

Sylvia scowled. “Why do I even bother?”

He just grinned as Evelyn hurried over with two mugs of coffee and a basket of fresh rolls levitated in front of her. Sylvia took a sip of her coffee and found it was probably one of the better cups she’d ever had.

Sylvia looked around. All the tables were covered in white table cloths and little centerpieces of evergreens and silver and gold berries. Each table had its own different set of china. The silverware was so well polished it gleamed.

“I like what you’ve done with the place.” Sylvia said, looking around. “Much better than the nasty woman who was here before. With the second hand robes.”

George scowled at the thought. “She was always giving my mother a hard time. ‘Shouldn’t ‘ave ‘ad seven of um, eh?’”

“Thanks.” Evelyn said. “It’s not much, but it’s a living. And I didn’t really want to go back to Canada. I had too much here.”

George gave her a shrewd look. “Like what? Your dog?”

“Like my dear best friend George.”

“Oh, haha.”

At the mention of the dog, a slightly undersized black lab pranced up and sat patiently at Evelyn’s side. Evelyn spilled some of her coffee into a saucer and set it on the floor, and tossed down half of her roll as well.

“So, you two went to school together?” Evelyn asked.

Sylvia nodded. “Seven long years with this git.”

George sipped his coffee. “Come on Syl, you love me.”

“I’m surprised I got any learning done.”

“Who took care of you when you were piss drunk at the Yule Ball?” George asked. “Who irritated your sister to no end for you? Oh, that’s right. Me. Not Fred. Me.”

“Who let you copy History of Magic notes for five years?” Sylvia shot back. “And then potions notes for another two because you didn’t do well enough on the OWLs to stay in Snape’s class?”

“Fine. You win.” George smiled.

“Owls?” Evelyn muttered under her breath, then shook her head and ripped a piece off her roll to eat. “Well, I’m sure it was an experience.”

George folded his paper, drained his coffee, and stood. “Well, I best be off.”

Evelyn glanced at a large cuckoo clock on the wall. “It’s not even seven yet!”

“I’ve got paperwork to get through. I’m taking Angelina for dinner tonight.”

Sylvia jumped and dropped her roll on the floor, and the dog immediately jumped on it. “Angelina?”

George rose his eyebrows at her, red creeping up his neck. “Yes, Angelina. We’ve been going out for six months.”

Sylvia blinked. “Right. Great. See you...whenever then.”

Sylvia watched him leave, pulling a scarf around his neck as he went. Why would he end up with Angelina? Fred had always fancied Angelina. Fred had asked her to the ball. Fred had gone out with her in seventh year.

“What’s wrong with Angelina?” Evelyn asked. “I’ve met her, she’s nice.”

Sylvia grabbed another roll. “His brother was the one who was with her in school.” she said quietly. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve been in a coma for two years. Things must have changed.”

“Hm.” Evelyn said, looking out the window. “Maybe.”