"A Different Kind of Thanks" for grey_gazania
Title: A Different Kind of Thanks
Gift for: grey_gazania
Author: laundrylove
Characters: Rowena Ravenclaw, Helena Ravenclaw.
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Genres: Gen, family, slight angst.
Author's Notes: I've never written Helena before, and she was quite an interesting character to delve in to. I hope you enjoy it!
Summary: Helena and her mother argue, fight, and go to a meeting. In that order.
“Helena, have you seen my brooch?”
She paused over the book of Latin that she had been told to study from, not bothering to look up and see which state of irritation her mother was currently in.
“Which one?”
“The purple one, that Aunt Helga gave to me for Yuletide. Where is it?”
Her heartbeat fluttered quickly. Underneath my pile of chemises, would be the truthful answer, but then her mother would want to know what she had needed with her brooch in the first place. And that was something her mother didn’t need to know in the least.
“The one with the amethysts on the sides?” she asked, stalling prettily and flipping to a page of common phrases, mouthing them at her mother’s back.
“Yes, now where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Helena!” her mother cried, whirling around in an exasperated sort of way. “Couldn’t you simply tell me that you didn’t know?”
“Well, I know where some of your brooches are, how was I supposed to know which one you were talking about?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. The fabric of her pale dress bunched around her wrists, and a scowl made its way across her face.
“Helena, I only have one purple brooch, it shouldn’t be that difficult to tell me if you’re aware of its location-”
“Why are you always getting angry with me?” she snapped, slamming down the cover of her Latin book in a deliciously satisfying way. “You asked me if I knew where the brooch was and I didn’t! Why am I always doing something wrong?”
“I’m not getting angry with you, Helena,” her mother said, a sigh in her voice. She was hovering over the desk in the corner of the room, pulling open the drawers and scanning the shelves. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
She wanted to throw back an acid reply, but instead thinned out her lips so none could escape. Her mother was beyond aggravated already, and she had enough of a survival instinct not to challenge her right now.
“Why don’t you just Accio it?” Helena asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.
“Magic doesn’t solve everything, Helena,” her mother intoned, and she turned her head so she could roll her eyes in peace. “Besides, you know that all of my things have anti-magic spells on them, after that incident with the students.”
Now her mother rolled her eyes. Helena smiled in spite of herself- poor, dim students, thinking they could fool Mistress Ravenclaw.
“Oh, never mind,” her mother finally muttered, closing the last drawer and taking a deep breath. Helena watched her quietly. “I suppose I can live without a brooch. I’ll wear a jewel on my wrist, instead. What about you, Helena?”
“What?” she asked, reopening her Latin book in her lap.
“To the meeting tonight. You know the student’s parents are coming, to meet with all of us. What are you wearing?”
Helena raised her shoulders up and down. “I don’t really know. My violet dress, I suppose.”
“Your violet dress? Oh, but why don’t you wear the blue one? You look lovely in blue.”
“I don’t know, Mother,” Helena countered, turning to the chapter of pronunciations. Latin words sat unused on her tongue, and she exhaled noisily, letting her mother know her distaste.
“I love that blue dress on you. Why don’t you wear it more often?”
“I don’t like it.” Her voice rose several pitches towards the end of her sentence, and her mother looked back at her with a frown.
“I’m just suggesting something, Helena. Please don’t raise your voice at me.”
“I’m not!”
“Yes, Helena, you are. If you’re going to be difficult-”
“I’m not being difficult!” Helena narrowed her eyes, gritting her teeth and using forced calm to flip the pages of her Latin book. “I just don’t want to wear the blue dress, Mother.”
Her mother gave an all-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose even though Helena had never been sure how that alleviated any stress. She bit her bottom lip, hard, leaving small indentations and making her mouth numb so that she wouldn’t be tempted to say anything rash to her mother.
“I’m sure if Helga suggested you wear the blue dress, it wouldn’t turn into such a fight,” her mother murmured, and Helena knew that the comment had not been meant for her to hear- but that didn’t stop her from hearing it.
“No, it would not!” she said, loudly, slamming her book shut for the second time. “Because Aunt Helga is nice about it! I don’t like the blue dress! Why is that so hard to understand? You can’t tell me what to do all the time!”
“I do not tell you what to do, Helena, I am simply suggesting-”
“And why do you say my name all the time? Repeatedly! I know that you’re speaking to me, why do you reiterate it over and over?!”
Her mother gave her a cold glance. “You are being irrational, and I would like for you to go to your room until the meeting tonight.”
“If that’s what you want,” Helena snapped, tucking her book under her arm and rising from the chair. “Or maybe it’s just you who’s being irrational, Mother, hmm?”
“Helena! Do not say another-”
“-word, I know!” she finished, screaming a few good swear words in her mind that she had picked up from Uncle Godric. Helena left her mother alone in the sitting room, slamming the door particularly loudly behind her, just for the sake of satisfaction.
--
Much to her eternal irritation, she did end up wearing the blue dress.
“I hate this,” she muttered darkly to herself from a corner of the Great Hall. “Stupid violet dress, stupid growth spurt, stupid rips…”
“It’s nice to see how you’ve expanded your vocabulary.”
Helena yelped, her mother’s dry comment ringing in her ears. She spun around to see her laughing quietly at the reaction.
“Mother,” she hissed, “what are you doing here?!”
“Well, Helena, this is a meeting for the student’s parents to attend, so it makes an awful lot of sense that I’d be here.”
A glower made Helena’s lips turn downward- her mother had a special way of making her feel like a blundering idiot.
“I mean, here beside me,” she amended, searching through the crowd for Aunt Helga. She found her, clad in a yellow dress that complimented her hair in a lovely way, speaking to a large, dark man with apparent ease. Well, no sense expecting Aunt Helga to come and save her.
“I do get tired of meeting people,” her mother said, a weary edge to her voice that made Helena want to feel a sort of pity. Her mother was not a sociable person; even she knew that.
“Well, how are the students doing?” she asked hurriedly, sipping from a glass of apple cider that Uncle Salazar had handed to her when she first came in.
“Very well, actually,” her mother said, glancing around as though she were about to be proved wrong. “We’ll probably be getting even more students come next year.”
Helena nodded at her cider. “That’s good.”
“Yes, it is.”
Her mother paused, pressing her lips together as though she were thinking about something. Her eyebrows drew together, and Helena hesitated a moment before she reached out and touched her arm.
“Mother?”
“I have something to tell you, Helena.”
She looked at her mother, perplexity etching her features. “Yes?”
For once, her mother looked unsure of how to continue. “Well, Aunt Helga was speaking to me about the fact that you will be turning fourteen in a month’s time…” Her long, elegant fingers twisted together over the pearly buttons of her dark green dress. “And she believes that you are old enough to begin attending classes, instead of me teaching you privately.”
“Really?”
Her mother smiled at her excitement. “Yes, really.” There was a deep, hesitant pause. “And I agreed with her.”
“Oh, but that’s wonderful!”
Joy bubbled through her, making her limbs feel like they were lighter than air. She was going to attend classes! Attend classes! She wouldn’t be stuck up in her room while all the other students were eating dinner in the Great Hall, or wandering the corridors- she would be with them, with them!
Helena abandoned her glass of cider, setting it down on the floor beside her and lacing she and her mother’s fingers together. Hers were warm, her mother’s cold, but she’d long stopped noticing the dramatic difference.
“I’m very glad that you’re pleased,” her mother told her, lowering their hands so that their arms swung down softly. There was a note of something in her voice, something like- like shyness, maybe, that Helena couldn’t exactly place, and didn’t bother trying.
“I am,” she repeated, “it’s wonderful.”
Her mother tucked their arms neatly together, like she and Aunt Helga sometimes walked. It was strange to do something so carefree with her mother, but Helena didn’t particularly feel like complaining. She was going to be on her very best behavior from now on, she promised herself- she wouldn’t give Mother any reason to change her mind.
When she glanced at her mother again, intending to give her another thanks, Helena saw her staring out across the crowd of parents, her long face somewhat overwhelmed. Oh, Mother, why do you hate being with people so?
Tentatively, biting the inside of her cheek, Helena decided to try a different form of thanks. She leaned forward until her forehead was resting on the top of her mother’s arm. She smelled like parchment and ink, half Aunt Helga’s perfumes and half sweet linens. Helena’s eyes fluttered closed, eyelashes skimming the edges of her cheeks.
“What are you doing?” her mother asked, not shaking her away but looking down at her, bemused.
“Being with you,” Helena answered, and clung to her hand tighter.
Gift for: grey_gazania
Author: laundrylove
Characters: Rowena Ravenclaw, Helena Ravenclaw.
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Genres: Gen, family, slight angst.
Author's Notes: I've never written Helena before, and she was quite an interesting character to delve in to. I hope you enjoy it!
Summary: Helena and her mother argue, fight, and go to a meeting. In that order.
“Helena, have you seen my brooch?”
She paused over the book of Latin that she had been told to study from, not bothering to look up and see which state of irritation her mother was currently in.
“Which one?”
“The purple one, that Aunt Helga gave to me for Yuletide. Where is it?”
Her heartbeat fluttered quickly. Underneath my pile of chemises, would be the truthful answer, but then her mother would want to know what she had needed with her brooch in the first place. And that was something her mother didn’t need to know in the least.
“The one with the amethysts on the sides?” she asked, stalling prettily and flipping to a page of common phrases, mouthing them at her mother’s back.
“Yes, now where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Helena!” her mother cried, whirling around in an exasperated sort of way. “Couldn’t you simply tell me that you didn’t know?”
“Well, I know where some of your brooches are, how was I supposed to know which one you were talking about?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. The fabric of her pale dress bunched around her wrists, and a scowl made its way across her face.
“Helena, I only have one purple brooch, it shouldn’t be that difficult to tell me if you’re aware of its location-”
“Why are you always getting angry with me?” she snapped, slamming down the cover of her Latin book in a deliciously satisfying way. “You asked me if I knew where the brooch was and I didn’t! Why am I always doing something wrong?”
“I’m not getting angry with you, Helena,” her mother said, a sigh in her voice. She was hovering over the desk in the corner of the room, pulling open the drawers and scanning the shelves. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
She wanted to throw back an acid reply, but instead thinned out her lips so none could escape. Her mother was beyond aggravated already, and she had enough of a survival instinct not to challenge her right now.
“Why don’t you just Accio it?” Helena asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.
“Magic doesn’t solve everything, Helena,” her mother intoned, and she turned her head so she could roll her eyes in peace. “Besides, you know that all of my things have anti-magic spells on them, after that incident with the students.”
Now her mother rolled her eyes. Helena smiled in spite of herself- poor, dim students, thinking they could fool Mistress Ravenclaw.
“Oh, never mind,” her mother finally muttered, closing the last drawer and taking a deep breath. Helena watched her quietly. “I suppose I can live without a brooch. I’ll wear a jewel on my wrist, instead. What about you, Helena?”
“What?” she asked, reopening her Latin book in her lap.
“To the meeting tonight. You know the student’s parents are coming, to meet with all of us. What are you wearing?”
Helena raised her shoulders up and down. “I don’t really know. My violet dress, I suppose.”
“Your violet dress? Oh, but why don’t you wear the blue one? You look lovely in blue.”
“I don’t know, Mother,” Helena countered, turning to the chapter of pronunciations. Latin words sat unused on her tongue, and she exhaled noisily, letting her mother know her distaste.
“I love that blue dress on you. Why don’t you wear it more often?”
“I don’t like it.” Her voice rose several pitches towards the end of her sentence, and her mother looked back at her with a frown.
“I’m just suggesting something, Helena. Please don’t raise your voice at me.”
“I’m not!”
“Yes, Helena, you are. If you’re going to be difficult-”
“I’m not being difficult!” Helena narrowed her eyes, gritting her teeth and using forced calm to flip the pages of her Latin book. “I just don’t want to wear the blue dress, Mother.”
Her mother gave an all-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose even though Helena had never been sure how that alleviated any stress. She bit her bottom lip, hard, leaving small indentations and making her mouth numb so that she wouldn’t be tempted to say anything rash to her mother.
“I’m sure if Helga suggested you wear the blue dress, it wouldn’t turn into such a fight,” her mother murmured, and Helena knew that the comment had not been meant for her to hear- but that didn’t stop her from hearing it.
“No, it would not!” she said, loudly, slamming her book shut for the second time. “Because Aunt Helga is nice about it! I don’t like the blue dress! Why is that so hard to understand? You can’t tell me what to do all the time!”
“I do not tell you what to do, Helena, I am simply suggesting-”
“And why do you say my name all the time? Repeatedly! I know that you’re speaking to me, why do you reiterate it over and over?!”
Her mother gave her a cold glance. “You are being irrational, and I would like for you to go to your room until the meeting tonight.”
“If that’s what you want,” Helena snapped, tucking her book under her arm and rising from the chair. “Or maybe it’s just you who’s being irrational, Mother, hmm?”
“Helena! Do not say another-”
“-word, I know!” she finished, screaming a few good swear words in her mind that she had picked up from Uncle Godric. Helena left her mother alone in the sitting room, slamming the door particularly loudly behind her, just for the sake of satisfaction.
--
Much to her eternal irritation, she did end up wearing the blue dress.
“I hate this,” she muttered darkly to herself from a corner of the Great Hall. “Stupid violet dress, stupid growth spurt, stupid rips…”
“It’s nice to see how you’ve expanded your vocabulary.”
Helena yelped, her mother’s dry comment ringing in her ears. She spun around to see her laughing quietly at the reaction.
“Mother,” she hissed, “what are you doing here?!”
“Well, Helena, this is a meeting for the student’s parents to attend, so it makes an awful lot of sense that I’d be here.”
A glower made Helena’s lips turn downward- her mother had a special way of making her feel like a blundering idiot.
“I mean, here beside me,” she amended, searching through the crowd for Aunt Helga. She found her, clad in a yellow dress that complimented her hair in a lovely way, speaking to a large, dark man with apparent ease. Well, no sense expecting Aunt Helga to come and save her.
“I do get tired of meeting people,” her mother said, a weary edge to her voice that made Helena want to feel a sort of pity. Her mother was not a sociable person; even she knew that.
“Well, how are the students doing?” she asked hurriedly, sipping from a glass of apple cider that Uncle Salazar had handed to her when she first came in.
“Very well, actually,” her mother said, glancing around as though she were about to be proved wrong. “We’ll probably be getting even more students come next year.”
Helena nodded at her cider. “That’s good.”
“Yes, it is.”
Her mother paused, pressing her lips together as though she were thinking about something. Her eyebrows drew together, and Helena hesitated a moment before she reached out and touched her arm.
“Mother?”
“I have something to tell you, Helena.”
She looked at her mother, perplexity etching her features. “Yes?”
For once, her mother looked unsure of how to continue. “Well, Aunt Helga was speaking to me about the fact that you will be turning fourteen in a month’s time…” Her long, elegant fingers twisted together over the pearly buttons of her dark green dress. “And she believes that you are old enough to begin attending classes, instead of me teaching you privately.”
“Really?”
Her mother smiled at her excitement. “Yes, really.” There was a deep, hesitant pause. “And I agreed with her.”
“Oh, but that’s wonderful!”
Joy bubbled through her, making her limbs feel like they were lighter than air. She was going to attend classes! Attend classes! She wouldn’t be stuck up in her room while all the other students were eating dinner in the Great Hall, or wandering the corridors- she would be with them, with them!
Helena abandoned her glass of cider, setting it down on the floor beside her and lacing she and her mother’s fingers together. Hers were warm, her mother’s cold, but she’d long stopped noticing the dramatic difference.
“I’m very glad that you’re pleased,” her mother told her, lowering their hands so that their arms swung down softly. There was a note of something in her voice, something like- like shyness, maybe, that Helena couldn’t exactly place, and didn’t bother trying.
“I am,” she repeated, “it’s wonderful.”
Her mother tucked their arms neatly together, like she and Aunt Helga sometimes walked. It was strange to do something so carefree with her mother, but Helena didn’t particularly feel like complaining. She was going to be on her very best behavior from now on, she promised herself- she wouldn’t give Mother any reason to change her mind.
When she glanced at her mother again, intending to give her another thanks, Helena saw her staring out across the crowd of parents, her long face somewhat overwhelmed. Oh, Mother, why do you hate being with people so?
Tentatively, biting the inside of her cheek, Helena decided to try a different form of thanks. She leaned forward until her forehead was resting on the top of her mother’s arm. She smelled like parchment and ink, half Aunt Helga’s perfumes and half sweet linens. Helena’s eyes fluttered closed, eyelashes skimming the edges of her cheeks.
“What are you doing?” her mother asked, not shaking her away but looking down at her, bemused.
“Being with you,” Helena answered, and clung to her hand tighter.