The Great Schism [Addy]

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July 15th, 2027

“…so I told them to sod off and when I was…when I was leaving, mum tried to summon my house key out of my pocket but it didn’t work. So I threw it at them,” Grey stumbled to the end of his story, quickly following it up by draining the remainder of his firewhisky. Beckoning at the bartender that he wanted another, he blinked through the acknowledgement, only realizing he had ordered another when the glass levitated down in front of his face. Considering each empty one was removed when the replacement arrived, he had no idea how many it had been now. He was definitely more toasted than he’d ever been before, and absolutely a lot earlier in the day than he usually liked to be drinking. Hell, he didn’t even like drinking in bars. It was usually too expensive and made getting home impossible. Today was the exception to that.

Addy sat across from him in a corner booth at the Violet Hound, which was a lot less crowded than the Leaky Cauldron had been when he tried to get a drink there earlier. The precipitating event had been another argument with his parents about his choice of career at the Daily Prophet, which he was coming up on his third year at. He couldn’t even remember what had caused the final blow-up, aside from an exchange where they called his work menial and beneath them. As if they were the ones working at the newspaper in his place and that somehow their name meant something. Because it didn’t. They didn’t come from money or some pureblood family line trying to reclaim their glory. The Slaters were the quintessential magical family that happened to get some news coverage because Claire killed a dark witch once upon a time. Three years later and they were still riding their daughter’s high, criticizing his perfectly normal life choices, and caring fuck-all about what was happening in their world, when they probably should have been more concerned about what their retirement plan was. If they were like this now, he didn’t even want to think about what would happen once significant others and children were brought into the picture. Out of spite, he would try to prevent both of those. Or maybe he didn’t have to anymore after this morning. Maybe this was it for him.

His hand wobbled a bit as he picked up the full glass of firewhisky, sipping on it slightly before putting it back down. The last one hadn’t even hit him yet, so he knew he had to pace himself if he wanted to make it home in one piece. “Sorry,” he apologized to his sister. “Didn’t mean to drag you out here like this. Figured you should know before they start whining about it.”

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Addy was torn somewhere between shock and amusement. When their mother was frustrated, her spells tended to not quite work, or she was far less the sophisticated and perfect role model for her children. Addy wouldn't have been surprised if she simply couldn’t pronounce the summoning spell correctly in that scenario. Not that Addy would ever tell her, but Claire sometimes got flustered like their mother, but there was enough weight on her shoulders without that comparison. Grey’s invitation had been unexpected, but she shook her head at his apology. ”Its alright. I needed the break.” The past few months had been almost non-stop work. An easy distraction from the void in her life and occasional message from their mother.

She could never understand why her parents were so hard on Grey. She wondered if she was next now Grey had removed himself from the picture. No doubt her mother would write soon enough. There was nothing wrong with working at The Daily Prophet. Then again, if her mother reacted like this to her son working there, it was probably best that she hadn’t really known that Addy had dated an employee there. Perhaps she’d just dodged a spell there. Overall when it came to her family, Addy was a bit secretive. Perhaps less with her brother and sister as they’d supported her without issue, but she could hardly look a few steps ahead if all her business was blocking her view.

Addy drank from her own fire whiskey, grimacing at the strong flavor. While she didn’t quite have the palette for it, she’d forced herself to socialize with her fellow interns and other colleagues to begin building her network. Her mother had stressed this, of course, and also that it wouldn’t hurt to throw in that her older sister was the Auror, Claire Slater. Naturally, most of these social events involved a bar in some part of Magical London. Fortunately, she’d also ordered a Butterbeer as a sort of chaser. ”Mum has a tendency to…exaggerate. I would have asked you.” Addy knew it was a delicate situation. Just nod in approval as her mother ranted and raved, her father doing the same as he (ironically) read The Daily Prophet, but Addy never saw her brother in the same light they did. Not that she could really understand that level of rebellion.

She paused a moment, contemplating the whole thing. ”I always wanted to ask her why she didn’t like the Prophet.” Not to mention, Addy caught her mother gawking at the Editor once. ”It always felt just as important as the Ministry.” At least Addy had the benefit of a job at the Ministry, but she’d always treaded carefully with her parents.

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Why their parents disliked the Daily Prophet as much as they did was the million Galleon question, wasn't it? Grey had internally debated about sneaking a peak into the archives at work to see if either of their names popped up, but decided against it each and every time the thought popped into his head. Maybe now was the time for it, when they were being firm on cutting off contact. If they hadn't held so much disdain for him entering the field prior the article that got Claire benched, he would have guessed that was the cause. But they had no problem having the paper delivered daily, so it made him inclined to believe that it was an issue either with the Quidditch section of the paper or with a specific person within the company. Enough that buying their product was fine but not their son working for them. The whole thing has always seemed strange to him, and even his alcohol-infused thought process was telling him something was up. If he remembered the next morning, he'd start looking through the old editions of the paper.

"They probably think it's beneath them..." he muttered into his glass as another long sip was taken. Which was honestly hilarious when he thought about it more, because their mum worked for goblins at Gringotts. Like they were the most righteous individuals in Diagon Alley. He swore that looking at all that gold all day was what gave her such a large stick up her-"It is just as important!" Grey responded loudly, not intending to make a scene but he could tell a few heads turned to see regardless. "Sorry...I still don't understand what the issue is. They were fine with me running the paper at school. Maybe they thought I'd just forget about it after graduation or something?" He tried what they wanted him to do, with the auror training, and it didn't work out. Contrary to what they believed, he enjoyed digitizing century-old Quidditch records. It basically made him the foremost researcher on the history of the sport...that was currently alive, of course.

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When Addy thought about it, she’d probably observed Claire lose her temper more often than Grey ever did. Addy, as the youngest, was the least involved in the family conflicts. And she preferred to observe anyway. Learning to navigate the dynamic her parents (especially her mother) had created required observation and learning from her older siblings. So with all that, she was surprised to see him this loud, but all the alcohol might have had something to do with that. Addy still had the vivid image of her mother red-faced, stuttering through her summoning spell. The sheer willpower Addy had learned to gather to not laugh when she inevitably tripped on the corner of a rug.

”Like a phase?” Addy supposed that was possible. Her mother had not been thrilled that Addy wanted to play Quidditch on a team that was essentially all boys at the time. But at the same time, she hadn’t expressed the same disinterest and disdain as she did for Grey and his career. Thinking, Addy drank more of her whiskey. Her glass was nearly empty, so she finished the rest and placed the empty glass down. ”Remember when I made the Quidditch team?” Addy asked. It was not a nostalgic moment for her. ”The only reason she didn’t cause a fuss was I told her second years rarely make the House team.” This was true for a few reasons, typically that there were no open spots. Just as it had done for Grey moments earlier, a glass floated her way. ”And then she said I had to be Captain one day, or it was a waste of time.”

She remembered at age twelve, fighting that internal battle between the targets set before her and something that she truly enjoyed doing. The first hint of what her brother likely went through on a much larger scale. But she convinced herself she’d be Captain one day, working toward a goal but enjoying it simultaneously. Ultimately, she’d half succeeded, which still felt like a failure. Taking another sip, the liquid hit her stomach, reminding her she’d worked through lunch again. ”But dad reads the paper every day.” Addy commented. It wasn’t menial work. Cheese told her all the work he’d done and the writers he worked with as well.

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"I think? It was honestly so confusing what they wanted out of him. The Prophet had been a reputable source of news for several decades now. The writers in the 80s and 90s were virtually all retired now, and journalism tended to be extremely impartial these days. Like it was supposed to. And even then, he wrote about Quidditch. Out of everything the newspaper produced it was easily the least controversial, aside from maybe the food section. Even then he was only working on the statistical side of things. So maybe that's what it was. Assuming not following their direct orders hadn't caused him to be on their bad side,which was probably the true cause of it all. If only they could be more straightforward with what their expectations were. Being Claire 2.0 wasn't exactly clear enough for him.

Addy brought up her Quidditch problem and he audibly groaned. Yup. He remembered that. Going professional was loads more volatile than working for the Prophet. Obviously she didn't follow through with that, but their parents had tried placing unreal expectations on her at twelve. Talk about ridiculous. "Could you imagine what they would've said if you hadn't?" Grey took a long swig of his drink. He really should have stopped after the last. This was his parents doing. "I think they think we should be like the McLaggens. Claire and Mickey succeeded, or whatever, and I'm our failure apparently..." That would make so much sense to him. A keeping up with the Joneses thing. Pitting children against each other to see who came out on top. The funniest part was that he worked with Cormac, who was a failed pro player. Everything that happened was basically an outline of what not to do if he ever had children. Because whatever this was, it wasn't right.

"And he still thinks it's a worthless career," Grey shrugged. Whatever they were trying to pretend they were, they weren't and never would be. Claire had drank their kool-aid because of all the praise she got after following through on a government sanctioned murder. Because that was something to be proud of...

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The gears in Addy’s mind had turned over and over again, trying to figure out what she was missing. Why was her mother so insistent on these paths, and why did their father go along with it? But she could only focus on it so long before giving herself a headache. And with the alcohol seeping into her system, it was even more difficult. But that was just who Addy was. She needed to know. Otherwise, her knowledge was incomplete, and perhaps that bothered her more than anything. She had wanted to do what was asked of her for so long, but the older she got and the more she watched her family splinter, the less she enjoyed that path.

Time after time, Addy had watched Brigh interact with her older brother and various family members. The casual nature had caught her off guard, even made her uncomfortable, but then she realized how happy they were. While Claire adopted that nose-up, eyes-down mask their mother wore when it came to Grey, Addy never had a reason to do the same. And quite frankly, she wasn’t looking for one. Her own relationships with her older siblings individually were not fractured. Addy looked over as Grey responded. A few more whiskeys and he might have slid out of his seat like he was responding with his whole body.

Her eyes grew wide for a moment. Merlin, she hadn’t even imagined that. The horror of such a thought. Their parents were staunchly against Quidditch for whatever reason, or at least their mother was. Their parents should have been grateful that whatever Claire lacked in flying, she made up for in dueling and not the other way around. Still, the thought made her finish her glass. Her face cringed at the strength of the alcohol. Even though her school years had passed, she still felt sixteen sometimes. She shook her head. ”Well…” Addy wasn’t sure how they would react honestly. ”…we could’ve been roommates.” She chuckled lightly. They’d always have Claire.

She felt terrible thinking of her sister that way. Addy had always gotten along with Claire. In fact, both her siblings supported her in different ways. Birthday gifts targeted toward Quidditch or the tinkering Addy often did. Encouraging her to follow her own path. Shaking her head, she sipped from her refilled glass. ”The McLaggens…” The thought sunk her mood further, and she paused a moment. Obviously, her mind went to a certain person, but she all but bit her lip to not talk about him. ”Do you think mum and Cormac would get along?” There were similarities, but before Addy could list them, she responded to Grey’s last comment.

”I don’t think you’re a failure, Grey.” And Addy never had. She may follow the rules and stay within the lines drawn for her, but it didn’t necessarily mean she thought any differently about how Grey lived his life. And Addy always found a way to technically still follow a rule and bend it to the point of breaking. After a pause and more whiskey, she sighed, eyes intently focused on the glass in front of her. ”Can’t be easy on Rafe…not playing Quidditch like Mickey and working near his father.” They had talked about it before. At least before they began to push one another out. It felt less weird to call him by his real name, but her siblings had never understood his silly nickname. ”Imagine you had to work at the Bank with mum?”

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He really needed to shift the way he thought of himself. Obviously that was as much of a problem as how he felt he was treated by three quarters of his family was. Moving out and not showing up during holidays (or very briefly making an appearance before attempting an Irish goodbye) was the best he could do right now. The next step was fully cutting off all contact. But there would be no coming back from that. Grey was positive he could get back on Claire's good side though it was going to take a lot of time. But the second all communication was cut from his parents, that was it. They'd made that apparent before. Currently there wasn't any, aside from an owl reminding him of holiday dinners or whatever their expectations were of him. Like that would change his career path again. Going no contact would basically be the same as it was no and he would be able to free up time o the holidays to do whatever he wanted to.

"Outside of an official capacity, no," Grey responded about Cormac. "He's honestly a huge prick. I hate having to go to him for stuff." It only happened once or twice each week, but it was always the same. Lengthy conversations about how the stats had to be written and formatted, as if Grey hadn't been doing it full time for three years now. He'd made more progress with his own work and the archives than anyone before him in that amount of time. All of the Quidditch reporters had to be thankful for that. Except the arrogant asshole Cormac McLaggen. "She'd sniff out his game almost immediately." Their dad, on the other hand, would be over the moon. If only he'd step into things a little more, because Grey was positive that would have made a difference growing up. Instead it was always "Listen to your mother," or "You really should do what's best." Meaning a high-end Ministry job and not what Grey was actually best at.

"Thanks...I know I'm not. But it does add up sometimes." Like the drinks he was putting back. Merlin, he'd had more than usual. As he inspected his current glass, Addy was saying something about Raphael, and having to work with Cormac at the paper. Yup. That totally hadn't happened because Grey sort of nudged him into doing what he wanted to do at the career fair. They could avoid each other fairly well though, as photographers were needed in all the departments. "I'd rather fall off the cart tracks than do an entire day under her watch," Grey mumbled morbidly. The goblins were bad enough, he didn't need his witch of a mother telling him how to do his job. "She probably wouldn't mind if I was a cursebreaker though. Increase my odds of being offed in the line of duty."

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Addy shrugged. Eggy shared stories of Cormac, or she used to when Cheese wasn’t around, or it was something he had not been there for. The Bainbridges were long-time neighbors of the McLaggens and a few other families. They weren’t positive stories, to put it mildly. Although Mrs. Potter was about the only person that could make such a man look tiny and meek. “That’s the gist of what Penny’s told us.” There was a shared expectation and disappointment among their families. At least Addy’s and Cheese’s. But for different reasons. Addy couldn’t imagine what it would be like if her mother worked in the same department or within eyeshot of the coffee station Addy frequented. Merlin, she’d probably have something to say about small talk, laughing, or flirting.

But she agreed with Grey. Their mother, like Mrs. Potter, would quickly put him back in his place. ”That would be interesting to see…” Addy momentarily daydreamed a scenario where Shela Slater faced off with Cormac McLaggen. The winner was obvious, but then she imagined the ripple effect. Their mother berating her children for letting that man speak to them that way, and Cormac taking it out on his own children. She sighed, absent-mindedly drinking more whiskey. Maybe not, then. And the last thing she wanted was to make Cheese’s life more difficult. Hadn’t Addy already contributed enough to that?

Addy hadn’t really thought about how all this affected Grey, he didn’t show weakness like a true Slater, but he was right—at some point, it all became heavy. As she raised her glass again, Addy realized it was empty. With a frown, she placed it back down while waiting for another one. She'd drunk it somewhere between receiving the glass and letting her mind wander. That explained that warm fuzzy feeling in her brain. But it was soothing also. Addy stifled a chuckle but couldn’t suppress a smirk at his response. ”I wouldn’t blame you.” A new glass appeared, thank Merlin. ”I don’t think Claire would either. I can’t imagine how she’d hover at the Ministry.” Constantly jumping between Addy and Claire’s workspaces and easily completing whatever work was on her plate.

At Grey’s comment, Addy shot him a look. Eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, and she shook her head. ”I wish you wouldn’t say that.” Addy snapped at him. She couldn’t—didn’t want to imagine such a thing. Addy remembered the flames at Hogwarts and Claire’s stricken face when they finally found one another at the Three Broomsticks. If Grey was in danger, Claire would have reacted much the same, with more lecturing on how to answer a Patronus in a timely fashion. But the thought of that day just led her to drink a large amount of firewhiskey at once. Her face cringed at the burn.

A thought did come to mind through the fog now that the alcohol had begun to suppress that logical side of her mind. ”Do you think mum’s happy?” Addy stared at her glass as she asked, thinking about how she’d prioritized her life according to everything drilled into her. It was all she knew, and yet it was so miserable sometimes. Somehow heartbreak felt more painful than failure, but Addy feared failure more.

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"I'd sell tickets to it. I think we'd have a lot more people interested to watch than we realize..." He couldn't have been the only one that disliked Cormac at the office. Add in all of the former Quidditch players and their staff, his neighbors, and even his own children? Grey wasn't a betting man but he'd place one on McLaggen being the most hated person in Godric's Hollow by a long shot. And what a showdown it would be too. Cormac would definitely be able to hold his own at first, but Grey knew his mum well enough that even the strongest wills cracked under her pressure. Why in Merlin's good name she stayed working at Gringotts all these years instead of working on a political career was beyond him. She'd be perfect for it.

Speaking of the Ministry, that seemed to be where the conversation had drifted. Their chosen careers varied, of course, but it wasn't like any of them were failures. Not to mention that they were still young. The expectation that any of them were supposed to know what they wanted to do and then stick to that job for life was dying out. Addy's own job hadn't even existed a few years prior and it was already generating even more career options. Working for the paper and informing its readers was just as important as creating magi-tech and keeping others safe. The problem always came back to Claire, of course, because if she hadn't been lucky enough to end up in the newspaper (that he now worked for) for her state-sanctioned murder, there never would have been this current state of wanting from their parents. Things still would have sucked - they always had - but they wouldn't have been so militant about it. Yet here he was, a shining example of 'failure'.

"Sorry...but you know that's true. They wanted all of us in law enforcement. I think we all just witnessed how dangerous that's been over the last few years," he stated. Then again, apparently so was teaching these days. And being a student. Apparently
existing in any sort of capacity, actually. Because stuff liked to go boom frequently. Hopefully it was done now. It was exhausting having to be worried perpetually.

As for their mother's happiness, Grey had never actually thought about it. The first thought that popped into his head was a resounding 'no', because how could anyone that acted the way she did be truly happy? Content maybe. She got to check off all her boxes in the game of Life: married, good job, children, etc. Living vicariously through said children seemed to be an add-on though. "In her own distorted way, yes. I think she's always been caught up in what is expected and how that's viewed by others instead of having any kind of deeper thought about how it effects us." He wanted to add that Claire seemed to be heading down the same path, but kept that to himself for the time being.

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Addy tried to picture some poor attempt at a duel between their mother and Cormac. Maybe throw in Mrs. Potter for a plot twist. It all sounded good and fun, perhaps they wouldn’t have to work again with all that gold, but her mind drifted to the other McLaggens. How would they fair after such a thing? It was one thing to be related to Cormac, but living with that as their father was something else entirely. On that, Addy and Grey could empathize. Brigh’s parents weren’t like that with her or her brother. No wonder she felt so free.

Not that Addy ever saw Cursebreaking in her future, not even as some long-lost dream. Other careers had drifted to the forefront of her mind over the year, Quidditch had lingered the longest, but her mother would never consider it suitable. Auror was on that list, but her heart never gave it much thought. But what Grey said bothered her, but he was also right. Addy had gone through the reckoning of expectations, but as the youngest of three, her parents’ mechanisms were fine-tuned. It was less painful than what her older siblings experienced. ”I wish mum had seen it.” Addy spoke, eyes still focused on her half-empty glass, pausing as her thoughts freed themselves from their nice neat places in her mind.

”The school and Hogsmeade. Claire was there…we were both lucky.” Not to mention how Addy told her parents that the henchman all over the grounds and the castle were not only targeting the Aurors or Hit Wizards. Her mother wanted her children to do something grand. Addy had sprinted into a burning castle, but it wasn’t an Order of Merlin or an article on the front page of the Prophet. She was sure her mother had never seen anything like it. Would it change her notions of glory? Addy wasn’t sure. She sipped more of her whiskey, clearing her throat at the burn. Grey was right. Addy supposed a deeper examination of their family dynamics rather than simple awareness made it all feel so muddled. Addy sighed. Distorted was one way of putting it.

She paused again. That mental disorientation sometimes came in waves, not because of the whiskey. ”Claire told me I shouldn’t choose something to try and make them happy.” Addy recalled their conversation before the school year and just after her birthday. Claire was…well, Claire. And those fleeting moments of their mother’s mannerisms appeared occasionally, but Addy would never compare her in seriousness. Addy didn’t have much else to say on the topic. Instead, she thought about how the various parts of her life had imploded and collapsed so where she was expected to succeed to stay afloat.

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Everything that had happened over the last five years and the fact that they'd all managed to survive it was lucky. Grey could sit here all day and blame Claire for the sudden push towards law enforcement because of her little state-sanctioned murder, but it had been creeping along before that. Maybe it was living vicariously through a fictional hero complex? Like their mum got off to the possibility of her children saving the magical world? Whatever it was, it was sick to want your own children to risk their lives against a group of crazed dark witches and wizards. Claire was so unbelievably lucky that she had survived that duel, that he had been on the other side of the Quidditch pitch during the explosion, and that Addy was aware enough to escape the fiendfyre. If someone had suggested they'd all drugged with felix felicis, he would agree with them that it seemed suspect. Not every family could say the same.

He laughed. A singular, loud, laugh. So Claire was now the authority on telling others that they should do what they want? That was hilarious. Even if he had been sober, he still would have found that laughable. "Wish she'd said the same to me. Or to them. Since they seemingly listen to her." He took a long drink after that, tipping back his mug a little too far so that some spilled out of the bottom and onto his chin. Grey furiously wiped it away with the back of his hand. He knew he shouldn't let it get to him. Everything was better when he didn't think about Claire or his parents. When they existed as an afterthought, life was good. The idea that his older sister might be redeemable had never crossed his mind though. She'd been drinking the kool-aid for so long too. "I'm glad you've been granted the freedom to do what you want. Must be nice," Grey added with a long sigh. He really just needed a full on divorce from his parents. No more of this family time diet thing where he still showed up for the holidays. It wasn't worth the stress anymore.

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Addy wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Or at least she didn’t open her mouth despite whatever initial thoughts came to mind. Habits. One never wanted to speak out of turn or impolitely in the wrong company. And as the youngest, Addy had quickly grown used to frequently being told to stop talking. But something was burning in her stomach, probably just the whiskey she kept putting down. The more that built up in her system, the less she noticed the distasteful burn and intense flavor. Freedom. What a funny word. Addy had chosen this path, and what had it gotten her?

Her mother didn’t disapprove of her career choice, and the side comments about Law Enforcement lessened but wasn’t completely gone. Moving out had helped Addy gain distance which let her think too much. But Addy still snorted at the thought that their mother listened to anyone. Not even their father. ”You know Mum doesn’t listen to anyone.” Addy reminded Grey as she sipped from her glass. Her head felt light, but she could still see straight and was pretty confident she could walk a straight line. But years of Quidditch probably gave Addy an advantage as far as reflexes were concerned.

Quidditch. Now there was something that Addy avoided thinking much about despite her love of the sport. Their father followed Quidditch, but their mother didn’t find any use for it, which is why Addy’s conversation about the many League scouts who’d approached her at the end of her seventh year (before everything burnt to the ground) had lasted about five minutes. In another life, Addy could’ve been a Chaser for the Wasps, or the Bats, or the Harpies, or for the few other teams who’d seen her. Freedom. The word rang through her head again, making her scoff. ”My job is one thing Grey, but you know that’s not all she cares about.” At this rate, there wouldn’t be a next generation of Slaters with their mother’s standards. Not that Addy was even remotely considering that at this age. And she’d tried. There was that nice chap she’d gone on a date with a month or so ago. Polite, friendly, and an Auror. But only with whiskey could Addy admit to herself that he was quite dull.

”Can you imagine her reaction if she knew I was—or had dated a…photographer, for instance, instead of an Auror or someone rich.” Or a lawyer, department head, head healer, or someone who introduced themselves while sitting on top of a mountain of galleons. Addy paused, staring intently at her half-empty glass. Merlin, that all still felt like yesterday. All along, Addy could never figure out if this was a reason it hadn’t worked out. Denial took more than a few glasses of whiskey to get past. After letting her mind wander to him again, Addy finished her drink. The bitter liquid somehow made it past the lump in her throat.

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How did it ever get to this? Or rather, had it always been like this and he had willfully ignored it up until a certain point? That was the most likely answer. There were often times where he wished it had just continued that way. Too ignorant of the situation at hand and gladly following his predetermined path. Become a mindless zombie like Claire. The funny part was that he had seen the times where she seemed to finally gain some sort of sentience. Breaking free of that mind control always looked like it physically hurt his older sister. Addy thankfully had figured it out on her own, though he was pretty certain that the control hadn’t been applied in nearly the same way that it had for he and Claire.

Right. Life stuff. That part never even came to play for him because their mother had always been more concerned about his career. There had been one point where he had worried, which was funny because Addy decided to bring up the topic of relationships. “I’d hate to see what kind of terror campaign she’d start if that happened,” he stated flatly. It had to be horrifying. Whether or not they ever had known about his relationship with Cecelia Rousseau was still up in the air. Claire knew. She’d figured it out within a few months of it starting, though had only known that he was seeing someone and not who it was specifically until he told her. Claire’s reaction had been…pleasant. Trying to add multipliers of rage, denial, and hysteria on top of one another in his head didn’t exactly work because she was prone to take it even further than anything he could ever imagine.

“I think…I think it might be better if I just cut all contact with them,” he finally admitted. This was the first time he’d ever said it out loud. Picking up to take a sip of his drink, he noticed it was empty and put it back down. That was the first sober thought he’d had in this entire conversation. “Because it’s up to them to work on things. Not me. I’ve tried.” He’d probably still meet up with Claire if she wanted to chat. Every once in a while, when she wasn’t being critical of everything, a glimmer of her old self shown through. To add to it, he was unbelievably bust with work. His mother would never see what he did as worthwhile, even if he was literally a historian of the most popular magical sport at this point. Merlin, he could write a book and they probably wouldn’t care. “I don’t know. It’s a thought, I guess.”

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And tell what you have to tell

July 15, 2027
grey xavier slater

The thought sent a slight shiver up her spine, and she opened her mouth to speak but closed it again. That wave of pain washed over her for a second again, and sipping the remaining whiskey in her glass helped it pass. Failed at making her relationship work with a long-time best friend and. Her mother would have thrown a fit about it as well. Perfect. Kill two birds with one stone, but in the opposite direction, she wanted to face. She decided to keep quiet about those aspects of her life. She wasn’t accustomed to being that vulnerable with either of her siblings.

Addy knew very well that Grey would not run to their mother to spill all her secrets, just as she knew Claire wouldn’t either. The difference was she was more likely to get some kind of lecture from Claire, depending on the severity of the offense. Grey wouldn’t lecture her but inadvertently push her in the complete opposite direction, if only out of spite for their parents. She quickly looked at Grey as he spoke his thoughts—his conclusion. Addy’s heart sank a bit. Family events were already exhausting as Addy didn’t have the same energy to find her mask when she visited home.

And the thing was, she didn’t know what to say to her older brother. It wasn’t often younger siblings were called for advice. ”I’m sorry, Grey.” It didn’t feel good enough like she was simply saying, “sorry it didn’t work out” when it was more than that. Before sprinting through a castle burning to the ground, Addy might have encouraged Grey to try different things to appease the rest of the family. But that day had changed her as much as anyone else who witnessed it. In any case, both Slaters were off-balance that day. Which deserved another whiskey.

[ end addy ]

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