Leigh!fic | Life's Little Memories (1/1) | Ernie Macmillan/Lisa Turpin
Title: Life's Little Memories (1/1)
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Ernie Macmillan/Lisa Turpin
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,175
Summary: She kept a treasure trove of memories on her dresser.
Author’s Notes: Written for baby_k21 as part of my Spring 2013 Drabble Meme. This story is based in the universe of our RPG, pinksheep_wench, where Keeks write Ernie and I write Lisa. The character of Kenna is a meme baby and belongs to mugglechump. Warnings for excessive fluff and Godfather references. Keeks, these two crazy kids were my first ship, and I love them so -- and I love you! Hope you enjoy this, bebe! ♥
To an outsider, Lisa's dressing table looked like any other. Simple, varnished black cherry with a simple elegant mirror; the lacquered top holding a few of the usual mementos -- a jewelry box, a hairbrush, a few framed photographs, a bottle of perfume. Plain and ordinary in its uniformity.
But to Lisa, it was a treasure trove of memories.
The jewelry box had been a gift from her father for her sixteenth birthday. A Muggle contraption, it would have stopped playing the theme from "Love Story" long ago if she hadn't enchanted it. It was small, but Lisa had never been one to wear accessorize excessively. The pieces she kept inside were all worn with time, but treasured nonetheless.
A string of pearls Ernie had given her after the Pip's birth. The diamond tennis bracelet the children had 'selected' for her fiftieth birthday (with their Da's funds, of course). A silver cloak clasp wrought in the shape of two flamingos -- her Patronus never ceased to amuse her husband.
Her rings, of course. The antique engagement ring that had belonged to Ernie's grandmother, her diamond wedding band, and the pear-cut sapphire ring he'd given her on their fiftieth wedding anniversary. She'd quit wearing them several years ago, her arthritic fingers swelling so much that it was painful to do so, but it didn't mean they were any less dear to her.
There was a tiny turtle made of seashells. Mandy'd purchased it at a small tourist trap in Tahiti. She'd thought they were mad, dragging their two best friends out of bed so they could be witness to their elopement. The turtle -- well, to be quite honest, it was bloody ugly -- but it was the first gift they'd received as a married couple.
Thus, a place of honor.
The hairbrush and perfume were unremarkable. Lisa had spent one of her first meager paychecks on a bottle of Jo Malone perfume, and she'd worn the same scent -- English pear and freesia -- ever since.
But the pictures meant more to her than words could describe. There were only a handful in their bedroom compared to the droves decorating the rest of the Macmillan household. They were her favorites, though, because they represented distinct times in her life.
The first was badly faded with age. It'd been taken at the end of her sixth year, on the train back to London -- none of them knowing it'd be the last time they were all together. Michael was leaning nonchalantly back in the seat, his attention alternating between the camera, Mandy -- who was, yet again, berating Terry for something, and Lisa, her head on his shoulder. Stephen sat across the compartment from them between Anthony and Padma, who had Terry's arm slung round her shoulders.
Two pictures, side by side in matching frames. The first showed a much, much younger Ernie and Lisa at one of their first official outings as a couple -- the Valentine's gala at White Chapel. Taken a little over a year later, the second showed a grinning Ernie bending Lisa backwards and kissing her on a Tahitian beach moments after the official had declared them man and wife.
The third photo was (privately) her favorite. She'd arranged for their family to sit for a photographer before Noah left for Hogwarts. The children hadn't been happy about having to sit through two sessions -- for that matter, neither had Ernie -- but her parents couldn't have wizarding photographs lying around the house.
It was one of the magical ones that she kept in their bedroom. There was approximately three seconds of still smiles and happiness before Pip howled in outrage at Rachael poking him. That stirred Luke on his Da's lap, prompting Noah to reach for his hidden book, and the chaos began again. Holly, throughout it all, kept smiling at the camera.
Five children under the age of ten at the time that photo had been taken. Small wonder she'd gone prematurely gray around the temples.
The last picture was still changing. It was a project effort between Holly and Rachael; a collage showcasing all the various Macmillan grandchildren. At last count, there were fourteen, but it was always possible more would be added. If that were to happen, the collage would rearrange itself.
With a contented sigh, Lisa reached for her earrings and fastened them with trembling hands. The face that stared back from the mirror was much changed from the twenty-five year old in the pictures. Her face was lined with age, her blonde hair white and long -- she'd refused to cut it to a more matronly style, nor would she color it. She'd embraced her body's changes. She was well into her silver years, but the memories were as bright as gold.
"You come into my house, on the day my daughter is to be married, and you ask me to do murder for money."
Wry blue eyes shifted and met her husband's gaze in the mirror. "Your Sicilian accent is terrible," she said, "and how is that you can't remember where you put your glasses, but you can remember the lines to a film my brother showed you forty years ago?"
Ernie pushed off the door frame and crossed the room to her, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. "Why should I need to remember where my glasses are? You're excellent at finding them."
"Because if I didn't, you'd be blind as a bat." Lisa smiled indulgently at her husband. The banter was as familiar to her as breathing -- it happened when one had spent well over half a century with the same person. "Besides, it's your granddaughter getting married, not your daughter."
His face wrinkled in distaste. "I thought I made a very convincing argument for a convent." His shoulders slumped, and he leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of Lisa's head. "Guess she's going to go through with it."
"Kenna is too much her mother to be swayed by that argument, and you are too much... well, you, to push it once she starts batting those pretty long eyelashes at you." Lisa laughed softly and reached up to pat his hand. "A right sucker you are for our girls."
He made a 'hmph' sound in his throat. "Bloody headstrong women."
"She gets it from your side of the family."
"And don't I know it." Taking a grasp on his wife's hand, he helped her to her feet. Neither of them stood as tall as they once did, their bodies stooped with age, but that didn't stop Ernie from taking Lisa into his arms and pressing a kiss to her lips. "Shall we watch our eldest grandchild marry that unworthy bastard?"
Lisa smiled and drew back, a twinkle in her eye. "You mean the unworthy bastard who will be the father of your great-grandchildren?"
"Don't be silly, wife. That's what the stork is for."
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Ernie Macmillan/Lisa Turpin
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,175
Summary: She kept a treasure trove of memories on her dresser.
Author’s Notes: Written for baby_k21 as part of my Spring 2013 Drabble Meme. This story is based in the universe of our RPG, pinksheep_wench, where Keeks write Ernie and I write Lisa. The character of Kenna is a meme baby and belongs to mugglechump. Warnings for excessive fluff and Godfather references. Keeks, these two crazy kids were my first ship, and I love them so -- and I love you! Hope you enjoy this, bebe! ♥
To an outsider, Lisa's dressing table looked like any other. Simple, varnished black cherry with a simple elegant mirror; the lacquered top holding a few of the usual mementos -- a jewelry box, a hairbrush, a few framed photographs, a bottle of perfume. Plain and ordinary in its uniformity.
But to Lisa, it was a treasure trove of memories.
The jewelry box had been a gift from her father for her sixteenth birthday. A Muggle contraption, it would have stopped playing the theme from "Love Story" long ago if she hadn't enchanted it. It was small, but Lisa had never been one to wear accessorize excessively. The pieces she kept inside were all worn with time, but treasured nonetheless.
A string of pearls Ernie had given her after the Pip's birth. The diamond tennis bracelet the children had 'selected' for her fiftieth birthday (with their Da's funds, of course). A silver cloak clasp wrought in the shape of two flamingos -- her Patronus never ceased to amuse her husband.
Her rings, of course. The antique engagement ring that had belonged to Ernie's grandmother, her diamond wedding band, and the pear-cut sapphire ring he'd given her on their fiftieth wedding anniversary. She'd quit wearing them several years ago, her arthritic fingers swelling so much that it was painful to do so, but it didn't mean they were any less dear to her.
There was a tiny turtle made of seashells. Mandy'd purchased it at a small tourist trap in Tahiti. She'd thought they were mad, dragging their two best friends out of bed so they could be witness to their elopement. The turtle -- well, to be quite honest, it was bloody ugly -- but it was the first gift they'd received as a married couple.
Thus, a place of honor.
The hairbrush and perfume were unremarkable. Lisa had spent one of her first meager paychecks on a bottle of Jo Malone perfume, and she'd worn the same scent -- English pear and freesia -- ever since.
But the pictures meant more to her than words could describe. There were only a handful in their bedroom compared to the droves decorating the rest of the Macmillan household. They were her favorites, though, because they represented distinct times in her life.
The first was badly faded with age. It'd been taken at the end of her sixth year, on the train back to London -- none of them knowing it'd be the last time they were all together. Michael was leaning nonchalantly back in the seat, his attention alternating between the camera, Mandy -- who was, yet again, berating Terry for something, and Lisa, her head on his shoulder. Stephen sat across the compartment from them between Anthony and Padma, who had Terry's arm slung round her shoulders.
Two pictures, side by side in matching frames. The first showed a much, much younger Ernie and Lisa at one of their first official outings as a couple -- the Valentine's gala at White Chapel. Taken a little over a year later, the second showed a grinning Ernie bending Lisa backwards and kissing her on a Tahitian beach moments after the official had declared them man and wife.
The third photo was (privately) her favorite. She'd arranged for their family to sit for a photographer before Noah left for Hogwarts. The children hadn't been happy about having to sit through two sessions -- for that matter, neither had Ernie -- but her parents couldn't have wizarding photographs lying around the house.
It was one of the magical ones that she kept in their bedroom. There was approximately three seconds of still smiles and happiness before Pip howled in outrage at Rachael poking him. That stirred Luke on his Da's lap, prompting Noah to reach for his hidden book, and the chaos began again. Holly, throughout it all, kept smiling at the camera.
Five children under the age of ten at the time that photo had been taken. Small wonder she'd gone prematurely gray around the temples.
The last picture was still changing. It was a project effort between Holly and Rachael; a collage showcasing all the various Macmillan grandchildren. At last count, there were fourteen, but it was always possible more would be added. If that were to happen, the collage would rearrange itself.
With a contented sigh, Lisa reached for her earrings and fastened them with trembling hands. The face that stared back from the mirror was much changed from the twenty-five year old in the pictures. Her face was lined with age, her blonde hair white and long -- she'd refused to cut it to a more matronly style, nor would she color it. She'd embraced her body's changes. She was well into her silver years, but the memories were as bright as gold.
"You come into my house, on the day my daughter is to be married, and you ask me to do murder for money."
Wry blue eyes shifted and met her husband's gaze in the mirror. "Your Sicilian accent is terrible," she said, "and how is that you can't remember where you put your glasses, but you can remember the lines to a film my brother showed you forty years ago?"
Ernie pushed off the door frame and crossed the room to her, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. "Why should I need to remember where my glasses are? You're excellent at finding them."
"Because if I didn't, you'd be blind as a bat." Lisa smiled indulgently at her husband. The banter was as familiar to her as breathing -- it happened when one had spent well over half a century with the same person. "Besides, it's your granddaughter getting married, not your daughter."
His face wrinkled in distaste. "I thought I made a very convincing argument for a convent." His shoulders slumped, and he leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of Lisa's head. "Guess she's going to go through with it."
"Kenna is too much her mother to be swayed by that argument, and you are too much... well, you, to push it once she starts batting those pretty long eyelashes at you." Lisa laughed softly and reached up to pat his hand. "A right sucker you are for our girls."
He made a 'hmph' sound in his throat. "Bloody headstrong women."
"She gets it from your side of the family."
"And don't I know it." Taking a grasp on his wife's hand, he helped her to her feet. Neither of them stood as tall as they once did, their bodies stooped with age, but that didn't stop Ernie from taking Lisa into his arms and pressing a kiss to her lips. "Shall we watch our eldest grandchild marry that unworthy bastard?"
Lisa smiled and drew back, a twinkle in her eye. "You mean the unworthy bastard who will be the father of your great-grandchildren?"
"Don't be silly, wife. That's what the stork is for."