Memories of Ingrid
Date: July 21
Time: Noon
Location: Puddlemere Training Pitch
Character(s) Involved: Oliver Wood
Rating: G
The rest of the team were hurtling about on their brooms, but Oliver was taking a breather. Philbert was sure to think something was wrong -- Oliver was the last person on the team to take a breather.
He was sitting in the shade, staring at a bit of paper. It wasn't sturdy parchment, it was flimsy muggle paper. A clipping from their newspaper that Ingrid had given him three years ago today. She had been torn between happiness and sadness. Her family never accepted her as a witch, just as they had never accepted Philbert. Philbert had taken her under his wing as best he could while she was a child, and as soon as she was of legal age Ingrid had lived with him, unable to take the treatment of her family. When they had announced their engagement to them over mail, Ingrid had been very sad that they didn't respond to her.
A muggle woman had been reading the newspaper while Ingrid had been relaxing at a cafe, and congratulated her. Ingrid had been surprised to see the clipping in the paper, and asked the woman for it. "Of course," the woman said. "Don't mind me saying so, but you're future husband has a rather curious name."
Yes, Ingrid's parents had already hated Oliver before he had met them that one time, and they did not even try to hide their distaste in the marriage announcement blurb. Oleevar Wood. Ingrid had been fuming over that, but Oliver knew that deep down she felt as though her family still cared about her. They had not come to the wedding, but they sent a toaster. Oliver had no idea what to do with the metal box, and had begun storing some papers in it. Ingrid had laughed a lot at that, and never explained it's true purpose. She said she liked it better that way, and painted flowers on it.
Olive stood up and carefully folded the clipping. It went into a pocket in his Quidditch robes. He took a long deep breath. Keep breathing, he told himself. Everyone had said that one day you didn't need to remind yourself to breathe, and that everything would go back to normal. She had been dead for over seven months now, and Oliver was sure that there would never be a normal for him again.
The clipping seemed to burn through the fabric of his robes, and he decided that tonight he would speak to Wini more about her mother. He would tell her about the fresh lemon scent that had been on her hands, about the way she ate her fries, and about the little birthmark that both mother and daughter had on their shoulders. Oliver had neglected to talk about Ingrid too much. His daughter had to know, his daughter had to remember something. If she grew up knowing nothing of her mother, she would loose out on so much. Oliver would not keep that from her anymore.
Time: Noon
Location: Puddlemere Training Pitch
Character(s) Involved: Oliver Wood
Rating: G
The rest of the team were hurtling about on their brooms, but Oliver was taking a breather. Philbert was sure to think something was wrong -- Oliver was the last person on the team to take a breather.
He was sitting in the shade, staring at a bit of paper. It wasn't sturdy parchment, it was flimsy muggle paper. A clipping from their newspaper that Ingrid had given him three years ago today. She had been torn between happiness and sadness. Her family never accepted her as a witch, just as they had never accepted Philbert. Philbert had taken her under his wing as best he could while she was a child, and as soon as she was of legal age Ingrid had lived with him, unable to take the treatment of her family. When they had announced their engagement to them over mail, Ingrid had been very sad that they didn't respond to her.
A muggle woman had been reading the newspaper while Ingrid had been relaxing at a cafe, and congratulated her. Ingrid had been surprised to see the clipping in the paper, and asked the woman for it. "Of course," the woman said. "Don't mind me saying so, but you're future husband has a rather curious name."
Yes, Ingrid's parents had already hated Oliver before he had met them that one time, and they did not even try to hide their distaste in the marriage announcement blurb. Oleevar Wood. Ingrid had been fuming over that, but Oliver knew that deep down she felt as though her family still cared about her. They had not come to the wedding, but they sent a toaster. Oliver had no idea what to do with the metal box, and had begun storing some papers in it. Ingrid had laughed a lot at that, and never explained it's true purpose. She said she liked it better that way, and painted flowers on it.
Olive stood up and carefully folded the clipping. It went into a pocket in his Quidditch robes. He took a long deep breath. Keep breathing, he told himself. Everyone had said that one day you didn't need to remind yourself to breathe, and that everything would go back to normal. She had been dead for over seven months now, and Oliver was sure that there would never be a normal for him again.
The clipping seemed to burn through the fabric of his robes, and he decided that tonight he would speak to Wini more about her mother. He would tell her about the fresh lemon scent that had been on her hands, about the way she ate her fries, and about the little birthmark that both mother and daughter had on their shoulders. Oliver had neglected to talk about Ingrid too much. His daughter had to know, his daughter had to remember something. If she grew up knowing nothing of her mother, she would loose out on so much. Oliver would not keep that from her anymore.