mother knows best

[Thompson Skeeter]

He had tried his best to sleep but his mind had been haunted by a couple of things. Thompson could hear her voice, could hear the words of his friend speaking to him. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was fearful for what was happening. Thompson did not want to see his friend to perish to the plague that she had gained. It was something that had haunted him as much as possible. Forcing himself up within a sitting position upon his bed, he rubbed his eyes multiple times, trying his best in order to keep himself awake. It was something that he had to do for himself, especially right now. With a deep exhale, he had reached out for his robes, grabbing it and wrapping it around his body before slowly heading towards the door. It was only when he had reached it that a cry had escaped something, causing Thompson to look around and land upon his own cat, Sleipnir, who was staring at him with his wide eyes. It was something that he could not help but to sigh about. “I know that you want to come with but you cannot..” With that, he had hurried out of the room. Quietly he moved down the hallway and towards the stairs, only to sneak on by slowly while near his parents’ bedroom. He didn’t need to wake them. It was only when he had made it towards the stairs and took a step that had caused a sudden noise to fill the air. He froze quickly, his eyes looking towards his parents’ bedroom, expecting to see the door open. Nothing happened. With a deep breath inwards and followed by a smile, he hurried down the stairs, hoping that they did not hear him at all. There were things in which he needed help with.

Thompson just wanted to be alone.

As he soon made it towards the library, he opened the door and snuck himself into it, his lighted wand raised as he moved his way through it. He could see the glistening spines of the leather books, causing a light smile to form upon his face. He wished that he could have read and yet, he just couldn’t at the moment. There was so much more that he could have dealt with. Upon seeing the large armchair before the fireplace, he made his way towards it, sitting down within it as though to keep himself happy. It was hard and yet, he had figured that someone would be more than willing to help him out. Maybe, he would get some happiness from someone. Sadly, no one was up and therefore, he had to deal with himself. “Why are you so worried about her? There is nothing that will happen to her.” He spoke to himself, not knowing if anyone would have been able to hear him. Allowing a sigh to escape him, he closed his eyes lightly, feeling the heavily of his lids as he tried his best to think. Everything was changing on him and as much as he didn’t want to admit, there were plenty of times in which Thompson wanted to let out a yell, to allow his anger to be shown. Instead, he allowed his mind to shut down, to close out the thoughts completely that he was thinking about. He didn’t need anyone to know what he was feeling deep within his heart, didn’t need to know what the others would think about his thoughts. Thompson just needed to clear his mind. Taking in a few deep breaths inwards, he allowed his thoughts to drift away, only to sleep upon the comfortable chair. He paid no attention to anyone at all as he breath calmly, trying his best to dream peacefully.

  

[Martha Skeeter]

Inevitably over the last few months Martha had learnt that the time she had with her children – time she had always considered to be hugely important naturally – was even more precious than she could have possibly imagined. They were still rather more scattered than she would like but at least she could console herself that all but one were within a few miles and Tony was doing something he loved so undoubtedly happy: none of them were in the grave and if she had ever believed in the strange muggle practice of offering thanks on one’s knees Martha would have certainly paid her dues.
She had paid her respects to Mr and Mrs Baddock of course, but trying to penetrate the grief of a ma who had lost his oldest daughter was beyond her and Maxwell had taken her home before she cried herself.

Having Thompson and Tamsin home for the summer helped tremendously. The empty rooms were filled and she wasn't woken in the night by feverish nightmares of their beds being empty forevermore. Although she had been feverish for other reasons and though she had kept it to herself she knew she couldn't keep the potential truth that she was becoming sick with the same illness as everyone else from Max forever. And Merlin only knew what she would do then! Her husband was surely to panic and a panicked father, along with a sickly mother was the last thing the children needed! She only hoped against all hope that she didn't inflict the same blight upon them.

The early morning light woke her properly at last and she left her bed quietly so as not to disturb Max. She was walking carefully towards the kitchen and the promise of tea to soothe her when a murmur caught her attention from the library - surely none of the children would be up by now? Cautiously she poked her head around the frame of the door and immediately smiled softly at what she saw.

Crossing the room she reached out a hand to brush Thompson's hair out of his face.

"Darling, are you awake?"

  

[Thompson Skeeter]

He was still struggling to sleep and because of it, it actually made it hard for him to relax. All that he wanted was for someone who was more than willing to listen to him – someone who was willing in order to listen the thought she had within his mind. From what he had understood, he really didn’t have anyone who would be able to comfort him. Everyone within his family was busy and that was the reason why he had decided to not say much as all. Everything he was thinking was hidden within his mind. Perhaps that was the reasoning as to why he had found it better to pill himself away from the world and into his own room. It was something that he could feel comfortable about, especially when it involved his friends. Thompson could not help but to keep it silent to himself. Yet, there were plenty of things in which he wanted to say, especially when there were plenty of things that could be said. So while he was sleeping, his mind wandering to get into his dreams, never would he have imagined that there was someone who would come alone to check up on him. After all, he could have sworn that everyone was fast asleep within their room. If only he had known, then perhaps it would have been a completely different story. Everything would have been different. So when something had brushed the hair out of his face, he couldn’t help but to jump a foot, allowing his eyes to open and his attention to flicker up at the figure who had pushed his hair out of his face. What he saw was a pleasant surprise.

It was his very mother, ensuring that her youngest son was awake.

Putting his hand to his heart, he felt the beating of it, his eyes closing tightly as he took in a few deep breaths, trying to calm the rapid beating. He was surprised by her, surprised that his mother had decided to get up this early in the morning. Perhaps there was a reason for this? Maybe, she just couldn’t sleep at all. It was hard to say. Opening his yes once more, he allowed his eyes to land upon the figure of his mother, offering her a gentle smile. After a few more deep breathes, each of which were slowing down the beating of his heart, he decided that it would be alright if he could speak. “Yes, I am awake, Mother..” He shifted his weight within the chair, sitting up slightly as he allowed his eyes to look around the room, curious as to why his mother had come down. Was there someone who had alerted her to him being here? He didn’t know but at the moment, he didn’t see Tamsin at all. It was strange for him. Thompson would have assumed that she would have gotten their mother but not, that was not the case. Instead, she had decided to come alone. Turning his attention to look towards his mother, he sighed lightly, raising a hand towards his temples as he rubbed them gently. “I couldn’t sleep at all. To be honest, I am too worried about my friend to sleep. She hasn’t been feeling the greatest at all.” He didn’t want to tell her that it was Alianor he was talking about, considering the fact that she was the one who he had bonded with more than most of his friends. He figured that he shouldn’t allow her to be so worried about it, especially at the moment. He just couldn’t allow her to worry at all. Not at all.

  

[Martha Skeeter]

Martha pulled her hand back quickly as Thompson jumped, immediately wondering what on earth could possibly be troubling her sweet boy that he would be in such a state. Her children were not, as a rule, overly prone to dramatic outbursts in Martha's experience but sometimes she feared that they bottled things up altogether too much. She had tried to get them to talk to her lately, even if it was just to complain about their father making them behave during his soon-abandoned campaign - Martha couldn't help but suspect that Maxwell's intentions had been to make the children behave all along with no intention of ever becoming Minister - but they had been remarkably reticent. Something had certainly been bothering Thompson lately to her mind, although she had been quite unable to find out what it was. Perhaps now was as good a time as any to try to get it out of him? She had motherly instincts etched onto her bones and she simply had to know if there was anything she could do to soothe him!

A friend! Oh Merlin, how could she had been so slow? She was so busy considering her own growing illness, something she was taking great pains to keep to herself, that she had scarcely thought about that fact that people had begun to die and her children had so many friends she didn’t know. Although she did know this one, or at least she knew of her, assuming she was right in her assumption that Thompson was talking about the same girl he had written to her about.

“Oh, Miss Rabnott isn’t it?” She asked sympathetically as she held her dressing gown around her body and lowered herself gracefully into the cool seat next to Thompson. Night sweats were something she had long since been putting down to the change but lately they had been so much worse and she knew they must be tied up with the headaches she had been having too, so the coolness of the chair was blessed. “I take it she has the same thing as everyone else?”

  

[Thompson Skeeter]

He knew that this was something that he shouldn’t have done, knew that amongst everyone that he should have told, his mother was one of them. She knew better than everyone else – knew when something was wrong with her children and had her way of questioning them. As much as Thompson wished that he could have hidden it, he knew that it wasn’t possible at all. As a matter of fact, he was certain that his mother had known that there was something wrong with him. There was no point in hiding it from her, especially with the fact that she would find out about it later on. Perhaps that was the reasoning why he had told her. He had figured that by telling her, it was something that would have easily help him out. What it meant was that he would be able to talk to her about everything that was happening within his life. How he feared the death of his friend, afraid that he would have to attend her funeral or worse, see her dead within the hospital bed. It was one of those fears that he couldn’t allow to escape his mind. Those fears haunted him. He didn’t want to admit it to her but he was certain that his mother had known. She was a wise woman, a figure who had known when something troubling had occurred. That was the reason why she had come to comfort him. She had known deep within her heart that the one son – her youngest son – had a troubled mind. He wanted to escape it – he really did but he needed the help of his mother. Luckily for him, she seemed to have understood more than anyone else.

Mothers always seemed to have an understanding.

He had wished that he could have said more but thankfully, she had understood. Upon hearing the name of his friend, he could feel that pain lingering within the pit of his stomach, yet he avoiding allowing his mother to see it. Instead, he had spoken his answer quietly, as though fearful to what she would think about him. “Yes, it is Alianor..” He didn’t use her last name, he didn’t call her Miss Rabnott. Instead, Thompson had used the name that he had grown familiar with. Yes, it might not have been something that most would have approved of and yet, he was only talking to his mother. Because of this, he was certain that she wouldn’t mind at all – he hoped that she wouldn’t mind. When his mothered had sat beside him, he turned his head slightly, allowing his eyes to land upon her face, taking in the kindness that was in it. It was something that he couldn’t help but to be grateful for. His mother was such a delightful figure to be around, as much as some might not have seen it. “I’m afraid to admit that she is. She sees things.. children who are not there. Starving and hungry, begging for food. Plenty of times she had asked me to give them food and water but, when I look for them, they are not there at all. I am afraid that she has gone daft, that her mind is not all there.” The words were spoken softly, before he sat there in silence, just staring at the wall before him. He could feel his stomach becoming sick with each time that he had talked about it. It was something that he didn’t know what more could be done. He needed to talk and his mother was his way to communicate. She was always willing to listen.

  

[Martha Skeeter]

Martha had long since made an art form of knowing when and if her children were willing to talk to her and she suspected that now, in the early hours of the morning with the world outside descending into horror around them, Thompson need her. He looked so forlorn in the morning light, her little boy who was growing into a man so quickly, and she longed to hold him in her arms and reassure him as she would have done when he was a little boy and a hug from his mother would have made anything better. It was not to be now though, her children’s troubles ran much deeper and were not so easily fixed, but if listening was what he needed now then she was more than willing. Even if, annoyingly, her body seemed to have finally decided it was tired and she leaned back against the sofa with a concealed sigh, keeping her eyes as open as she could manage.

Still, even feeling sleepy she picked up on his use of her name as only a mother would and her head reeled with the thought of the poor girl suffering through such terrible hallucinations.

“The poor thing,” she muttered softly, already beginning to pray that none of her family endured such terrors. “Perhaps it soothes her that you’re there to help her at least darling? Even if in her tormented mind she can’t quieten the pleas she has someone to aid her and that makes all the difference in the world sometimes.”

She knew deep down that she should disapprove of her son having a young lady that he clearly cared for at such a young age, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Thompson was a sensible boy and she knew that he wouldn’t embarrass the family – it was enough for Martha to soothe her concerns and she wasn’t nearly stupid enough to let Max know!