#not me being shit with names and like... everything regarding the outterridge tree lmao

[outterridge]

⏰ 13

Dona was tucked up in bed, her knees were pressed up to her chest, two small gifts rested on the blankets before her. Birthday presents. One was wrapped with obviously cheap paper with yellow and black spots on it, the other was intricately folded with silken sheets that sparked, clearly enchanted. She rested her chin on her knees, her gaze flicking between both of them.

She picked the one from her Mom first, opened it carefully to find a box of homemade spiced pumpkin cookies and a pair of earrings, a tiny sun and moon. Dona smiled, popping one of the cookies in her mouth while she switched out her earrings.

Next was the gift from her father. She hesitated before she unfolded it, pursing her lips. When she reached into the envelope, she founded it was further enchanted. Dona pulled out a coin purse, she didn’t bother checking it before she put it in the drawer next to her table. A letter was next out of the envelope, Dona chewed her cookie while she read it:

My Dearest Dona,

Wishing you all the best for your 13th birthday. In this family, of which you are still a part, witches are considered capable, responsible women at your age. I am so proud of the woman you have grown into.

I hope that as a grown witch, you are able to reflect on your upbringing and understand the decisions that were made in your childhood. Your mother may have chosen to alienate you from your family but you know the truth. You lived it.

Despite your mother’s actions, there is still a place for you in your proper home. As an adult, you are able to make your own choices. I implore you to think critically about your options. You are an Outterridge. Whether you want it or not, your name gives you privileges in society. The name that you carry also brings responsibilities that you are able to shirk or enjoy, but I want to stress that you consider the consequences of your choices. It is not too late for you to make the correct decision.

-Your Father

Dona was in tears by the time the letter finished. She put it down, then gently folded it back together, placing it in the drawer with the money. She wiped her eyes with the corner of her duvet, shuffling down in her bed (which was now filled with pumpkin cookie crumbs) and curling up under the sheets. Her tears were just welling on the bridge of her nose when her roommate burst in, smelling of sweat and wet grass- having just come back from early morning quidditch practice.

“Donaaaaaa!” Her friend called, flopping onto her bed before reaching to yank back the covers. Clem was poised, ready to jump on Dona in her traditional birthday tackle when she noticed that Dona was awake- and more, she was crying, staring ahead. “... You ‘right?”

Dona swallowed, wiping her tears with her palms before tucking her hands under her pillow again. “Yeah. I think I just wanna sleep in. Sorry.” They’d had plans to go to Hogsmeade for a birthday breakfast, now they were third years and old enough to attend.

Clem sat back, still on Dona’s bed, frowning. “Well. That’s okay. But I’m planning on having a movie day in bed, if you wanted to join.” She said, and then went to clean herself up after practice, before dashing back inside to draw all of the curtains and rig up a sheet, and the projector they’d found in a room of hidden things.

By the time Clem was perched on her bed in a bathrobe, her wet hair piled atop her head, snacking on a big bowl of popcorn, Dona was peeking over her shoulder at her friend. Eventually it was the movie choice- Perks of Being A Wallflower- that won out. She picked up a crochet blanket, wrapped it around her shoulders and moved to sit next to Clem. Dona waved her wand and the cookies came to rest in front of them. Dona offered the bag to Clem, who took one. “Mom made them.” She commented, and took one for herself before resting her head on her friend’s shoulder, tucking her feet up. 

“I love this movie.” Dona said, giving a light smile.

“Yeah,” Clem said, offering a box of Bertie Botts, “I know. It’s your favourite.”