It was a beautiful and sunny day, which Alabasandria hated. She was sitting, rather reluctantly, outside in said lovely weather, having conjured an oak outdoor table and a large umbrella to shelter under while she worked. Beyond her reasoning, she'd been somehow roped into watching Luna. They didn't allow guests into the home, since the woman did not care to hide all her illegal things, so the children were outside. She'd been trying to do better at the parenting thing, (Harry had only cried a few times so far) and she was making an effort to supervise them.
As much as she wanted to leave the children to themselves and retreat into her murder basement, Pandora Lovegood had quite the collection of historical texts. It was worthwhile to stay on the family's good side. And the children did seem to be having fun. Luna was covered in mud up to her knees and Harry had lost one of his shoes. They chased each other around the yard.
A gentle, soft breeze whispered through the air. Her book was fascinating, and her spiced chai was excellent. She supposed that perhaps once in a while, some fresh air could be tolerable. She took a languid sip and sprawled in her chair. After an hour or so, Harry came running up to her, out of breath.
"Mama?" He called.
"Hmm?" Deeply engrossed in her book, she didn't look up.
"Will you come play with us?" Harry asked.
"I'm busy, Harry."
"Please? Just for a bit. Luna wants to show me how to play Crucify the Hippogriff, but you need three people to play!"
She gave him a stern look over the edge of the book. Harry had pulled out his most impressive puppy-dog eyes, but she was dead inside, so they did nothing.
"Harry, I am working. You also have work you could be doing, but instead, I am letting you play with Luna. Don't push it. You'll have to find a two-person game to play." She said, stern and unmoving.
He huffed in frustration. What was the point of having a mama anyway, if she never did any mama activities with him? Luna's parents played with them sometimes. Luna had a bunch of toys and a huge collection of Beanie Babies and was encouraged to read books that were not about murder. Harry didn't think he was asking too much of her!
He'd only been with her for a few months, and things were awkward between them. Neither of them knew what exactly a mama was supposed to be, but again, Harry didn't have the highest of expectations here. All he wanted was for them to do something that wasn't related to necromancy for once.
Harry got the impression that she didn't like him very much, she just tolerated him and his childish demands because he was her apprentice and she had no choice but to put up with him.
The Dursleys hadn't liked him, and he had hoped he was done with being someone's burden. He was being well cared for. He had plenty of food and a nice bedroom and a couple of toys. He was receiving an education and encouraged to have a friend and she'd never hit him or punished him unfairly and Harry knew more than most, that those things were not a guarantee. But something in his heart demanded for more. What that more was, he couldn't exactly explain, but he really liked mama and it crushed him to know that she did not feel the same. He wanted to spend time with her, he wanted her to like him, he wanted a mama.
(The trauma had been taken, sure. But it was never quite that easy. The Dursleys had left traces of themselves in the hidden, dark corners of Harry's mind. He had not magically manifested an understanding of healthy parental relationships.)
It felt selfish of him to demand more from someone who was clearly uninterested in providing him with what he wanted. What did he want, love? Physical affection? Perhaps, he admitted to himself, he was asking for a lot. Perhaps it wasn't just about how she never wanted to play with him. Or perhaps it wasn't selfish - he was a small child with no proper adults in his life turning desperately to the one person who'd offered him a shred of decency and he demanded that she step up to the task.
Harry was seven, and could not comprehend life-long emotional neglect. He wanted to play with his mama.
"You're immortal, you can do your boring work tomorrow!" Harry demanded, his voice petulant and hurt. "You never want to play with me!" He kicked the table in frustration and spilled her precious tea all over the grass.
"Harry!" She snapped, shocked at his sudden temper tantrum. "It is my responsibility to train you, not to play with you!" A quiet, peaceful moment with her book and her tea was all she had asked for; now it was all ruined! "Honestly, what has gotten into you? If you are not going to behave, then you won't get to play at all."
To her horror, Harry began to cry. Again.