The Haunting || Barty & Charity
The red-headed boy that had so often waltzed through the various floors of the Black Manor had been a ghost as of late. Charity couldn't blame Barty; she'd been a ghost too. And coincidentally, that was all she could see. Ghosts in the form of memories scattered over hardwood floors scratched from overuse and less than stellar care. On bookshelves lined with wilting flowers because she'd had no where else to put them all after the slew she'd received. And in the most private of places, their shared room, with all his papers scattered about as she'd tried to piece together the puzzle he'd left her with.
She sat now at the long kitchen table, palms pressed to the sides of her head, staring quietly at the ultrasound she'd just been given. The small little blip in the center of it told her she definitely was pregnant. This was supposed to be joyful. She was supposed to have gone with her husband, not alone. In hindsight, she could have asked Sirius to come along but after all he'd been through, she couldn't bring herself to lean on him just now.
She lifted her bleary gaze to the door just another of the million knocks reached the kitchen door, and stood just as carefully, brushing away the tears beneath her eyes. The reporter was supposed to be strong, and she was crumbling away bit by bit every day. "I'll get it Kreacher, thank you." She whispered as the elf appeared in his clean linen pillowcase to open it for her. He wandered off, as silent as the rest of the house had been for weeks.
"Yes?"
@begforxit