Euphemia

Euphemia Potter. Mother to James, wife to Fleamont. ❝I will love you forever, even when I shouldn’t.❞ 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 #𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑔𝓁𝑜𝓌.

Sighing. “Just pick a different spot for it, darling. Please.”

“Honey, I might be old but I’m not clueless. And I think you know exactly the kind of reputation having one in that spot comes with.”

“Is it wrong of me to want my son to have a nice boy reputation?”

“I’m not saying it won’t, just not in that spot.”

It’s not the tattoo I’m against, it’s the place where it will reside.

“Please don’t make me be one of those ‘you’re better than that’ parents.”

Darling, no.

“To see my only son, of course.” She hummed, returning his hug with a proud smile.

James.

Or any other instruments or weapons.

Don’t ever lay a hand on her son again.

It’s common sense, living in that house of horrors would drive anyone mad.

These people need to take a good long look at themselves. Her baby is the most precious, most handsomest boy in the world.

My memory is just fine, and I know all about that house. No one could ever be happy inside its walls.

Doesn’t seem like they’re reciprocated.

. . . Is her precious baby in love with that girl?

You sure were interested just a few days ago.

How is threatening to hit someone nothing? This is unacceptable. She’s going to have them both dealt with, trust her.

You harm my son, and then conveniently forget the offer of sanctuary from those horrible people you call family. Unbelievable.

He has never done a single thing in his life to deserve that, he’s a good boy. And to think I took you into my home.