Chapter Text
Shadows crept along the worn wooden floorboards as if seeking the once-vibrant past hidden beneath the peeling wallpaper. The dim candle light flickered, casting unsettling patterns on the walls. Prim Cromwell inhaled, the lingering scent of her late mother mingling with the earthy essence of the surrounding Appalachian woods.
The silence weighed upon her, oppressive and stifling until her Papa's stern voice echoed from the dining room. "Hurry up, Prim. The house elf will take care of our belongings, it’s best we move quickly."
Mustering a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes she turned towards her Papa’s voice, smoothing the bodice of her new laced dress. It would be wrong to expect Papa’s usual warm smile- but she did.
He grappled with the aftermath of the recent funeral, an intimate ceremony honoring her mother's mountain witch customs.
As he entered the sitting room, a tight frown contorted his ashen face. A heavy burnt odor that mingled with his usual Alpha scent. “Prim, Sweetling, that is a tea gown. Scotland will be much colder than here, you should put on… Uh… a thicker dress with the… err… more fabric? Or maybe less fabric but thicker?” His expression crumbled, and Prim couldn't help but imagine her Ma chuckling at her mate's clumsy attempt at women's clothing. Ma, a mountain woman through and through, and Papa, a pureblood wizard long estranged from society, were both fashion novices- the house elf had a better sense of style than Prim and her Papa put together.
"Oh, um… O-okay, Papa." Prim offered a smile, her brow furrowed in confusion as she mentally sorted through the layers of dresses and bindings. Navigating her new wardrobe was a daunting task.
If only the house elf hadn't been occupied, Prim might have asked for help.
I wish Ma were here; we'd be laughing about this by now.
Memories of the heart-wrenching ritual surfaced: the tender washing and dressing of her mother's petite frame, a charm cast to conceal the dragon pox's green tint and welts.
“What about…” Ma’s things? Prim swallowed the words, praying her father hadn't noticed.
They hadn’t spoken about her since the funeral.
“Prim, please don’t.” The word halted her thoughts. Her distinguished pureblood father rarely used 'please.' Evidently, he wasn't ready to discuss his mate's passing—he never would be. Mates could only survive apart when there was young to protect, and Prim had but a short time before she would be seen as a woman in the eyes of society.
“Sorry Papa.” Prim loved and hated that she kept him from death's door- and Ma’s side. Absolutely selfish is what it was, but she wasn’t ready to be alone.
Having buried Ma the night before, Papa was all she had left.
Nestled in a polished box, Ma had laid as if sleeping. Silver coins covered her once-mossy green eyes, a gauzy white shroud draped over her serene face like a wedding veil.
Under the full moon's glow, the ceremony had been beautiful, save for the final step: a charm to hasten decomposition.
Neither Prim nor her Papa had been warned of the final step in the ceremony, seeing her mother bloat, discolor, and bulge- and then wither and become a dried husk- will forever stay with her.
Her Papa had howled like a wounded wolf, clawing at his chest in grief, while Prim stared wide-eyed, unable to breath.
Papa began packing immediately after the funeral, not waiting for the earth to settle on her mother's grave. The shock and devastation had yet to fade from his eyes and he looked to have aged in the span of hours.
Leaving her resting place and possessions behind pained Prim, but she trusted her Papa’s judgment. His steely resolve to leave belied the burden he carried, his sole reason for existing shifting to his young Omega daughter. "Papa, may I have one last look around?" she asked, her voice trembling.
He patted her head, eyes softening. "Make it quick, Pup," he said before taking a handful of floo powder off the bowl on the mantle and stepping into the fireplace. “This won’t be the last time you see home.” With a nod to Prim, he called out a name she didn't catch and vanished into the fireplace, a green plume of glittery smoke marking his departure.
Drawing in a deep breath, Prim committed every detail of their home to memory. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she lingered on the enchanted family portrait. Her mother waved gently, bouncing a much younger Prim on her hip, while her Papa's warm smile stood in stark contrast to his current mood.
The rare commission spoke of the love they shared.
Her eyes darted over the window to dwell on the freshly engraved headstone nestled at the base of her mother's favorite chestnut tree. Etched beside Ma’s name was Papa’s, his date of death matching hers. A symbol Prim could only guess at, as she wasn’t bold enough to ask her Papa directly.
He will expect me to bury him beside Ma, in the same ceremony. Swallowing bile, Prim shoved the thought to the back of her mind. The ornate stone seemed out of place among the wild forest, but her mother would have appreciated the gesture from her mate.
Wiping away a tear, Prim turned her back on the window and portrait and jammed her feet into the closest pair of fancy beaded slippers her Papa insisted on buying. Going barefoot, he warned, was considered distasteful in their new home.
The swish of her gown teased her bare ankles, coaxing a smile from Prim as she glanced down. The dress, though exquisite, was the only one she could don without help, the complexities of other dresses still a mystery. She hadn't bothered with the boned corsets or stiffened petticoats. Ma had never pushed them on her- much to Papa’s chagrin- and Prim had no idea how to wear them anyhow.
Shivering, Prim imagined herself standing at the hearth of her new ‘respectable’ home and couldn’t spare the patience to redress in one of the more intricate wardrobes. Papa would understand her small act of defiance- the faster she escaped the mountain home and the memories tugging at her, the better.
With a heavy heart laden with uncertainty, Prim grabbed a handful of floo powder and stepped into the fireplace. The name of their destination slipped her mind, though several options had been discussed. Taking a chance, she called out the first region name she could remember, " Feldcroft !"