Work Text:
The Language of Doors
The doors in my house tell me everything I need to know.
If the door to the guest room is open, it means the room is empty and my parents are getting along. If the door to the guest room is closed, it means my dad’s sleeping in there. Again.
If the door to Dad’s study is open, it means he’s probably in there reading Quidditch magazines and eating chocolate frogs and we should come on in and join him. If it’s closed but unlocked, it means he’s working on a case and should only be disturbed if it’s important. If the door to the study is closed and locked, it means he’s remembering the war, staring off into nothing with far-away eyes. I learned long ago not to knock on the door when it’s closed and locked.
If Mum closes the door quietly when she gets home, it means she will be smiling when her face appears around the corner to say hello. If she slams the door behind her, it means dinner will be tense and silent.
If the front door opens and Aunt Hermione is standing on our stoop, it means my parents will both be on their best behaviour. If it’s Uncle Ron on his own, it could go either way, especially with Mum. If it’s Luna Lovegood or Neville Longbottom, then everyone will feel better for a little while. If it’s Uncle George, everyone will feel a little worse.
Once it was Scorpius’ dad. The door to the guest room was closed for three months after that visit.
If James’ door is open, it means he’s got a girl over – Mum won’t let him have a girl in his room with the door closed. If it’s slightly ajar, it means he’s listening to music and could probably be coaxed into a little Quidditch in the backyard. If his door is closed it either means that he’s wanking or that Mum and Dad have been yelling again.
Lily’s door is almost always open, except when Katie Longbottom is visiting and they’re in there whispering and giggling. It’s been like that since they were five years old, no boys allowed.
If the pantry door is open in the middle of the night, it means either my father or my sister is looking for a midnight snack. In the summertime, if the back door is open too, it means they’ve both come down and are now on the verandah, sitting on the old porch swing together, snacking in the moonlight. I’ve only once seen the door open in the middle of the night in the wintertime. Then Dad was in the garden, collapsed on the frozen ground, crying. I don’t know how long he had been there or how long he stayed. I watched him for an hour before I went back to bed. It was the only time I’ve ever seen him cry. To this day, he doesn’t know I was there.
Sometimes I fear I will come home to find the front door wide open, my father moving out. Other times I think that would the best thing for all of us. I would go with him, if it came to that.
But today the front door is closed, all of us inside the house, all of us pretending nothing’s wrong. Today we still look like a family to anyone on the other side of the door.