Meadow Flower

Sat on the low wall bordering the outdoor courtyard of the Dumbledore’s garden, Ariana watches Aberforth returning from feeding the goats. The sleeves of her brother’s beige shirt ( there used to be a time where that shirt was plain white, she thinks, but since the task of doing laundry came back to her elder brother, even the brightest of her dresses seems to have lost its radiance ) are rolled up to his elbows, his forehead shining with sweat, little drops of it rolling on the skin of his neck, where muscles are straining from the effort of having to run from the pastures where he insists on taking his herd every morning to the hill leading to the borders of their garden.
Not really a hill, she thinks again, you would rather talk of a mud hut, a leftover from the dirt road’s construction, now located below the small hamlet made of the Dumbledore’s house and their few neighbours’. The grass growing on this hut is still young, untouched nature preserved from any human action, where the flowers bloom carelessely in wild bunches.
The flowers, the flowers with their petals drenched with sunlight, offer an endless source of activities for Ariana, who, at dawn, before the sunrise and even before Aberforth’s awakening, likes to sit alongside them, within them, and pretend to awake as the tulips open up for the first rays of sunshine. Alone, while Albus bakes breakfast on mornings, she relentlessly braid flower crowns that she arranges thoroughly in her hair or hang in a solemn way around her neck, as if they were jewels of an inestimable value.
Usually, in late afternoon, when the sky draps itself with fire and the sun reflects its light in her’s and her siblings’ hair ( making them look like lions ), she hums a tune quietly while Albus reads, the lines of his forehead arranged in a deep frown, and Aberforth flick through the pages of a History of Magic textbook ( subject where he is far from being the best, unfortunately ). She collects flowers of every colors and align them around her siblings ( sometimes even using her magic unintentionally and wandlessly making the flowers delicately spiralling on themselves ) until one of her brothers, or both, crack a smile.
These briefs moments of peace, Ariana knows it, are only initiated for her and constitute a sort of truce between her brothers who quarell about everything and anything otherwise. She is not a fool. Yet, she treasures them – used to treasure them, she corrects herself, because it’s been a week at least since the last time Albus cared to join them before sunset, and a good fortnight since the last time her brothers talked without fighting.
Since Gellert – amazing Gellert, with his golden locks and his smile too bright – came from merlin knows where and made his entrance into their lives, her elder brother is nowhere to be seen until dinner time, which he prepares dutifully every night since Mum’s death. But Albus, who is neither passionate by domestic tasks nor thrilled at the idea of babysitting his siblings, is now significantely different even while doing everyday chores.
In the evening, Ariana listens carefully until she hears the distinct creaking noise of the front door opening, indicator of her brother’s return, and comes down the stairs only to observe him, his behaviour, to study his movements. Then, sat on top of the kitchen counter while Albus actively gather the kitchen implements, she notices how much he has changed. The enthusiasm that seems to carry each of his moves, even the most trivial ones, the dedication he takes to prepare and seasons meals for his annoying siblings, the way he flashes a little smile to Ariana everytime he meets her curious gaze from where he is cooking the chicken at the table, everything about him screams change, anticipation, excitation… happiness ? That’s it, she realizes, Albus is happy, full of hapiness, every inches of his skin vibrating with the force of it, and it must be infections, judging by the way she can’t help herself from smiling back at him, bubbly with laughter. It must surprises him, but he doesn’t say anything, though his eyes may carry a bit of condescension.
Of course he believes she doesn’t understand ; she barely talks and is rarely able to voice her thoughts clearly – to him, at least. His secret is safe with her, he must think without a doubt as he and Gellert settle in the Dumbledore’s living room - more spacious and comfortable than Bathilda’s old one - when Aberforth finds work at the village and theyr’e certain he won’t be back until the end of the day.
Then, and only then, her brother and Gellert let themselves become reckless, their touches linger, sometimes their hands intertwine, skins always in contact, their fingers seeking each other’s when the two boys argue about things Ariana can’t quite grasp the extent of. It’s likely that both of them believe she doesn’t understand what happens, but they are the ones not noticing her penetrating gaze studying the least of their movements when she leaves the stifling heat of her room in order to make herself a cup of iced black tea.
But she sees them, she sees everything and sometimes she whishes she could use her magic freely, wishes she knew how to use it, so she could summon her cup of tea upstairs and wouldn’t have to witness their budding love blossoming under her very eyes –
She shakes her head and comes back to the garden, to the hardness of the wall under her pale thighs, to the blazing sun and to Aberforth who has begun to pick vegetables from their modest piece of garden.
The wicker basket her brother placed next to his feet is already half full with big dusty bean pods ( she hates having to peel them, they’re always crowded with spiders ) and tomatoes bigger than grapefruits, red and juicy, ready to burst under the exquisite warmth of the daylight, looking so tasty Ariana feels dizzy just by looking at them.
Aberforth pauses to wipe the sweat beading up on his scalp then bends his back again, his gritty hands digging through the plantings looking for hidden vegetables.
Ariana adverts her eyes and stretches her bare legs in front of her, helplessly. More than seeing her elder brother falling in love, it’s the knowledge that all of them, the three of them – Gellert, Albus and Aberforth – are healthy, aren’t affected by her condition, that fills her heart with jealousy and want. Envy and longing penetrate her core and make her skin shudder.
Oh, how she desires to run after the goats along with her brother ! The heady scent of meadow flowers, the delicate parfume of freshly cut grass would fill her lungs and invigorate her mind, the long scratchy remainings of corn would tickle her feet and she would run, run until her heart beats fast and hard in her chest, run until she feels the burn of it in her frail legs. For now, she’s just sitting on a old stone wall.
Ariana moves her head from left to right, right to left, and yes, her heart is beating wildly now, almost erratically, her blood pulses under her skin and the irregular rhythm of it makes the tip of her fingers twitch unpleasantely. Her head is heavy, is it the beginning of a headache coming ? Cool sweat is pooling at the base of her neck, and with a shiver she feels it go down all the way from her hair to the back of her dress.
Her thumbs start tickling, her hands are sticky with moisture and sparkles of red are beginning to make their way through her veins, escaping from her skin to get lost somewhere in the air. Magic, she thinks. Dangerous. She closes her eyes, inhaling deeply and moves to stand up, only to be immediatly struck by a dizzy spell so strong it makes her eyelids tremble with pain and her head pound badly. Frustration overwhelms her. Why must I be so weak ?
And she lets herself fall backwards, on the other side of the wall, where her drop is softened by thick grass and bunches of flowers. The lower part of her body is angled in a funny manner, with just her knees remaining on the wall of bricks, her feet in the air, while her head is on the ground.
Aberforth, who wasn’t closely paying attention to his sister until then, - his mind clouded by confused thoughts about Albus who leaves them on their own too often, about his favorite goat about to calve, and the pretty muggle girl who gave him his change at the fish market this morning -, reacts right away, and the basket stuffed with vegetables he was about to take inside comes crashing to the ground while he rushes to his sister.
In a heartbeat, he has stepped over the wall and is sinking down to his knees next to her. A sense of relief floods over him ; the latter doesn’t seem too shaken by her fall. Her arms in the shape of a cross, Ariana absently wraps her left hand around a flower’s stem.
« Are you okay ? » he asks in a puzzled tone, his voice filled with worry. She doesn’t answer, her eyes fixed on an invisible point behind him, and just as Aberforth is about to voice his concern again, his sister grabs his sleeve and pulls him forwards.
« Hi », she breathes, offering her most dazzling smile, the one making the corner of her eyes crinkle and her cheeks tint themselves with a rosy, healthy glow.
And just like that, anxiety vanishes from her brother’s eyes and he flops onto his back next to her. Just like that, frustration leaves her entirely, and together they watch Albus walking the path coming from Bathilda’s house and leading to their own, his pace light, his chin high and pround, a smile on his lips, Gellert close behind him.