House of the Rising Sun

[Sarah Reine]

Inside an expensively furnished hotel room on the seventh floor sat a woman brushing her long black hair, pale eyes staring into the mirror. She was a cold woman, events from the day prior saturating her in numbing unreality. Her thoughts were not on her children nor on the man who had perished holding her hand. They were a mass of grey, buzzing like a muggle television set to white noise. Rising from the padded vanity stool, long legs encased in black stockings, high heels strapped to her elegant feet. The staff had dry cleaned and hand delivered the sapphire blue dress; silk flowed over her trim body, hem brushing her thighs.

The sun had risen hours earlier. Sarah stood at the large window, simply -watching, waiting.

 

[Sumner Drage]

Sumner took the stairs, foregoing the elevator to use some of the pent of aggression stored within him. It was always there, his constant companion these some odd years. His only physical outlet, Quidditch, was done for now. The game was over, summer vacation would begin soon after exams. He reached the door his mum had told him she'd be staying at for a few days, not bothering to knock. Yanking it open, he stepped within and let it shut noisily behind him. His mum was beautiful, that hadn't changed since last he'd seen her. Yet there was something off about her, she looked brittle, as though she would crack and fall apart any moment.

Moving forward awkwardly, he hesitantly slid his arms around her, son towering over mother.

 

[Sarah Reine]

Sarah's mouth tightened. She had taught him better manners than to just shove his way into a room unannounced. He had grown even more, easily towering over her own tall frame. She spied the fading yellow with outline of purple bruises on his face. She didn't condone fighting, not for any reason. Was he not a wizard, with the means to duel magically? She had done him a disservice, raising him in a predominantly muggle upbringing. He had become a savage, using his fists and through letters she'd learned he had been taken to task for his language and for having girls in his bedroom.

Eyes widened slightly as his arms enclosed her in an awkward hug. Even as her flesh came into contact with his, she felt nothing. Surprise tapered to nothingness. He could have been someone else's child at that moment. She didn't even pat his back. Her hands remained at her sides, held loosely. "Are you finished?"

 

[Sumner Drage]

Sumner felt her words sucker punch him. His chin trembled from her coldness, her absolute callousness toward him, her oldest son. Jerking away and turning to face the window, he shoved his shaking hands into his pockets. No way would he let her see how she had hurt him. "Why am I here?"

 

[Sarah Reine]

His reflection was clear within the window. She wouldn't know that later shame would burn into her like an ugly fire poker, searing the image of her boy trying not to cry. Now though, she just wanted to get this over with so she could bury her husband and start to live the life of a widow. Perhaps she'd travel, reinstall her roots within the wizarding world. She'd lived too long as a muggle.

"Your father is dead. He had heart a attack last night." Her words, spoken in monotone, no feeling whatsoever in them, whip cracked into the still room.

 

[Sumner Drage]

The room whirled around him, the building shaking upon its foundation. He closed his eyes, sending the pain inward, unable to express it. Even though Bertram hadn't been his biological father, he was the only one he'd known his whole life. Dead. He was dead. And his wife, Sumner's mother, didn't care at all. Why would she? She'd spent most of Sumner's life buried within drink and denial of who everyone was around her.

Turning slowly to face her, sneer in place, Sumner spoke lowly. "He wasn't my father."

 

[Sarah Reine]

"He raised you, you ungrateful brat." Sarah spoke in anger, feeling it burn within her. At least it was something, some emotion ruling her. She unleashed it upon her son. Raking him with scornful pale eyes, she spat at him, "And see where that got him? Look at you." Her sneer mirrored his. "Always fighting, getting into trouble, stressing him out. He couldn't stand to be home because of you."

 

[Sumner Drage]

Sumner's hand itched to fling out and clap over her mouth, to stop the hateful words pouring from them. Lips that should be saying words of comfort, letting him know that things were alright. Something within him snapped and raged. "It wasn't me who he couldn't stand. It was his drunken wh*re wife." His hands, free from the pockets, shook at his sides, his face pale.

 

[Sarah Reine]

Drunken wh*re. Sarah's hand shot out, open palm cracking against his face. It stung her palm, left her shaken. Once she started, she didn't want to stop, longing to pour out her anger onto him. He wasn't her son, not any more. She told him as much. "I want you to leave. Go back to your school, don't contact me or Avery. You are dead to me." Walking to the door, back stiff, she flung it open, not looking at him.

 

[Sumner Drage]

Pain exploded within him. Not from her physical blow; Sumner barely felt it as his head whipped to the side from the force of it. This was his mother? The woman who had raised him, telling him his father was dead, disowning him. He had faced many obstacles in his young life, many hurts and had always fought back. Yet nothing had ever wounded him as she was capable of doing. As she had just now done.

Tears pricked his eyes, his chin trembled. Clenching his teeth, he did what he was best at; turning pain into anger. Stalking by her, he spat at her feet. "You were never a mother, alcholic b1tch." Words flung at her, he left. The door slammed behind him. He walked down the hallway yet once he turned the corner he began to run, tears falling freely down his cheeks.

 

[Sarah Reine]

Sarah slammed the door, leaning back against it, eyes closed. When they opened, they were lifeless. Mechanically, she began to gather her things. She would be gone within the hour.