wolf in sheep's clothing | Octavia

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[attr="class","title1"]Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

[attr="class","subtitle1"] Bla Blah Black Sheep, have you any soul?
No sir, by the way, what the hell are morals?

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She let herself wince at Octavia's words. Her brother was turning eleven, and it wouldn't take a Ravenclaw to understand octavia's brother had the same genetic quirk that made him Muggle-born. Like Medea and Jason, but more. . . at least with octavia there was the certainty. With Jason more specifically, there could be the claimed hope his father was magical, and have him leave. With Medea herself? No, they had no contact whatsoever with her deceased father's family. That bridge had burned. . .well, before Cass had been born, apparently. According to rumor.

"Can your parents run? At least, one of them run? Go to France with him, see that he gets the letter there." She knew that wouldn't work for many-- her family wouldn't be able to afford the move, and it would also uproot the life. But between saving a son, and stress? She knew what she would choose. "Or-- find some regular boarding program that'll see to it. If he's out of the country by the time he turns eleven, they probably won't try to track him down. . . " Or they could hunt him down, kill the family. People said France was better, but Medea didn't trust that. They were colonial empires, cut from the same cloth. Why would France be different, why would they care about some immigrants?

She half-recognized the stance Octavia was in, the forced smile that seemed centimeters from flinching. "Can we Scourgafy?" It was a cleaning spell, their shit wands were supposed to be able to do that. Episkey was beyond them, but cleaning-- maybe they could do what they could to keep it clean. Infections had to be a priority, still. Somehow.

[attr="class","tags1"]☆ @octavia ☆