Epeolatry - ✔️

Eleven

"Families are like branches on a tree.
We grow in different directions yet our roots remain as one."
- Unknown

The family dinners that Athene had been subject to were always stuffy events that often didn't even involve family. Rita Skeeter was quite the entertainer, though she often used her parties as a gossip hub. The long halls of the Skeeter Mansion were cold and unnerving, and the same went for the family atmosphere.

With that being said, Athene fit in surprisingly well with the Weasley's and their chaotic dining styles. The young guest found herself sat between Charlie and the ever-famous Harry Potter. Hermione Granger, the young woman that Athene had met at the first task, was sat across from her; Ronald, who hadn't said much as he was too busy stuffing his face with roasted turkey, was sitting directly next to Harry Potter; the twins were sitting on the other side of Charlie; Ginny, who was ever the polite young woman, was sitting on the other side of Hermione; and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were situated at each head of the table. Several conversations were going on all at once with the occasional, "pass the potatoes," interrupting them. It was quite the sight to behold, and Athene absolutely loved it.

"So," Mr. Weasley spoke loud enough so that the entire table quieted down, "What do you do for a living Athene?"

Everyone turned to look at the young woman, and heat rushed to her cheeks. "I own Epeolatry, sir. It's a bookstore in Diagon Alley."

"Ah!" Mr. Weasley grinned like a child in a candy store, "I've heard that your bookstore carries a fair amount of muggle books."

"I try my best to keep my muggle section up-to-date and stocked," Athene smiled shyly. As it would seem, Mr. Weasley was quite the muggle fanatic. "I am quite fascinated with muggle things myself. If you ever stop by the bookstore, I would love to show you my muggle television set."

"A television set?" Mr. Weasley had stopped eating entirely and focused solely on the conversation, "Whatever is that?"

"I'm not quite sure how it works, but it is a device that can play movies and shows that have been prerecorded," Athene struggled to explain the device that Alison had gifted her, "They are similar to our moving photographs, though they tell a story and they speak."

"Fascinating," Mr. Weasley dove into conversation with an unresponsive Ron about the wonders of the Muggle world, and Athene was comfortably sitting in silence. The food on the table was delicious; it rivaled even the great feasts at Hogwarts.

"Athene," the woman looked up from her plate of food, "You run Epeoplatry?" Hermione Granger was a stubborn looking girl. Her frizzy mane - much like Athene's own head of hair - was bunched into a pony tail at the base of her neck, and her large eyes peered at her curiously. As Athene suspected, Hermione didn't seem comfortable in her presence. Athene couldn't blame the girl. The article and picture that her aunt had blasted through the Daily Prophet were downright disrespectful and rude.

"I do," Athene offered her a friendly smile in hopes that maybe she could diffuse the situation, "I have always loved books; that's why everyone was so surprised when I was sorted into Hufflepuff instead of Ravenclaw." Tensions were still high, and it took everything in her not to fidget. Hermione didn't answer, though Athene could see the curiosity in her eyes. "Look, Hermione, what my aunt did was horrendous. There is no excuse for what she did, and I am so sorry that you got hurt in one of her articles."

Hermione was shocked. Clearly, she thought that she was better at hiding her feelings than she really was. It was then that Athene was aware of all of the eyes on her, and she flushed.

"Your aunt really is something isn't she?" Harry chuckled nervously. "Why do you put up with how she acts?"

"I have to second that one," Fred spoke up while George nodded fervently, "You're so nice, and she is so... not?"

"She's family, I suppose," Athene tried to give the most convincing smile that she could. The truth wasn't something that should be discussed over family dinner. Not a family dinner that was so jovial, anyways. "She's crazy, but she's family."

"That's why we put up with you, Ronald," George smirked at his younger brother as he shoved another potato into his mouth. George's joke seemed to lighten the mood, and the dinner table went back to the idle chit chat. Everyone, that is, except for Charlie and Hermione. The two couldn't shake the feeling that Athene wasn't telling the whole truth.

It was nearing dessert, and things had seemingly smoothed over between the members of the table. Athene had engaged Hermione in a riveting conversation about a muggle book that described the events of the World Wars, Ron had managed to eat the last piece of turkey, and Mr. Weasley and the twins were discussing the boys' latest prank.

"Charlie, dear," Mrs. Weasley's kind voice pulled everyone back into a single conversation again, "Are you excited to be going back to Romania?"

The table went silent, and if Athene's heart hadn't stopped before, it certainly had now. She had always known that Charlie would be going back to Romania, but she had hoped it wouldn't be for a long while. "Mum," Charlie sent his mother a look, "we decided not to talk about this now."

"I'm just so excited for you!" Mrs. Weasley missed the look that her son gave her, "I mean, besides Athene, this is all you ever talk about."

"She's right, Charlie," Athene smiled lightly, successfully hiding her disappointment, "You haven't stopped talking about Romania since you came to my bookshop."

Charlie gave Athene a long glance, and an understanding passed between the two: they would talk about this later. So, heaving a great sigh, he turned to his mum, "I am happy to be going back. I've missed the dragons and my colleagues."

"I do wish that you would be more careful," Mrs. Weasley brushed her hand over the scar on Charlie's arm, "There's only one of you."

"Now, dear," Mr. Weasley looked at his wife with the utmost love in his eyes, "Charlie's a grown man, he can make he can take care of himself."

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