The one I rarely see.

[Hermia Davenport]

It had been so long since Hermia has the privilege to meet with her son. He was always busy with his new job, his new life, his other responsibilities that seemed to replace the catch up time that he should have been having with his family. Everything was back to front. The more important things had been replaced with the more minor of things. None the less, a good mother would say nothing; she would embrace her son with open arms -- welcome him as if he were still here little boy. In a sense he was, but in another sense -- he was no longer, and never would be the same little Dante that Hermia had aged with.

Sitting on the side of the waters, peering over the harbor, Hermia waited for her anticipated son to arrive. He had confirmed that he was going to show himself via owl -- the two of them needed to talk -- needed to catch up with all the time that they had missed since his distant way of life. The last time they had met face to face after all was when Dante lost his wife to her terrible accident / condition. Remembering your son for the sadness he could express wasn't the way to go through life as a mother; not even close. Watching the waters ripple, waiting for her son to arrive, Hermia breathed in a deep breath - welcoming the fresh air into her lungs. So this is what New Zealand was like.

 

[Dante Davenport]

Walking along the harbor as he made his way to meet his mother, Dante couldn't help but think of all the good times he had with her. At least before he had moved away and become so distant to his family; so distant to his father, mother, Sister-In-Law and Brother-In-Law. It was quite sad really; the bond that they had as a family was a strong one that almost seemed unbreakable -- at least until now. Breathing in the air as he followed along the path leading to the edge of the harbor, Dante wasn't so much as sure how his mother was going to embrace him; if she was going to embrace him. She was such a kind woman, a considerate and admirable woman; some one Dante saw as the perfect outline of a mother, a carer; a mentor and teacher.

She had taught him most of what he had come to know -- all the things that a Wizarding school could never teach. How to treat a woman, how to respect people, how to understand exactly how people felt -- to never give up no matter what any one thought or said. Without Hermia, his mother, Dante would have never become a Seer. He would have stopped when all the children and fellow peers began to tease him for thinking that he could peer deep and far into the future. His mother played the figure of everything in his life as a child and he had threw it all in her face when he walked on out on them without giving them a moments notice of his leave.

Coming to a halt as he reached the end of his walkway, Dante looked on at the woman perched on the seat, looking over the marvelous waters. He took one step closer, and then another, followed by yet another.
"Mother?" he spoke quietly, but loud enough for his family member to hear. His further steps were well placed and carefully measured as he neared very slowly. "Mother, its me, Dante." his voice slightly louder than the first time now, even though it didn't have to be. He stopped in his tracks, peering at the back of the woman that had brought him up to be the man he was today.

 

[Hermia Davenport]

In the thought she was in, she had hardly noticed that there was any one even approaching. The sounds of the water gently being blown by the wind was all that was present. It was soothing her mind, allowing her mind to trail more easily into the distant thoughts that she was having. The voice coming from behind her was faint, so faint in fact that she didn't take too much notice -- but enough to recognize her sons voice. When Hermia heard it however, it seemed more like it was being created via her mental state that she had found herself in -- not the reality that was unfolding around her.

She turned slowly at the second set of words, however, she wasn't turning that slowly -- at a mild pace, enough to allow her to get her wits about her. She felt as if her body had been slight sedated from the extreme happiness of the fact that her son was here. "Dante?" she spoke softly, her melodic tone filling the air. She stood from her seat and approached her son, as slowly as he had been moving in his approach. He had aged ever so much compared to when they had last met; he had matured, even more than when she could last remember. He was suited like a true gentlemen; like his father. "Dante, you look amazing. Strapping young man, brilliant garments and a face that could make me melt; just like always. Your still my little Dante." Hermia smiled, however, not her usual happy smile. It had a tinge of sadness in it, and her eyes filled some what with tear drops. She was so happy to see her son -- so happy to see that he remained to be her Little Dante. Her mind had mislead her, and no matter how much Hermia peered into her sons face, she saw nothing other than the little boy she had raised.

Striding towards him, only taking a few more steps to close the distance, Hermia embraced her son with open arms. She hugged him close to her and rest her chin on his shoulder. He had out-grown her, what did she expect. The thought put a smile on her face; finally, she was smiling again and it was all thanks to the presence of her one and only son. "I've missed you so much, Dante." her words were whispered through the hug into her sons ear. The tears that had made her eyes their home finally departed and rolled down her cheek, however, with the fact that her son couldn't see her own face, Hermia discretely wiped the tears away. She had to be strong; for the benefit of herself and her son.