Harper wasn’t one to talk much about her parents or their passing. It sometimes came up in business, but thankfully most people knew better. Mostly through common courtesy, though a rare few because they knew her. These past five years were supposed to be some of the happiest years of her life, beginning with with graduation from Hogwarts, and consisting of living it up and making the most of the rest of her young adulthood. But instead, they became the most stressful and lonely.
At the time, the summer of 1973 seemed to both drag on and fly by; but looking back, it was more fuzzy than anything.
Planning a funeral was hard to begin with. Planning a joint funeral? For your parents (who died the night of your graduation)? While also taking over their hotel empire and handling all of the complications that come along with it? Despite not even being 18 yet?
For most, it would be impossible, but Harper knew she had no choice. For her parents and their legacy, for herself and her safety.
The funeral was sad but beautiful. Being planned by Harper and for her parents, there would be nothing less. She spoke in front of the large crowd that attended, remaining composed yet letting the appropriate hints of raw emotion through. She only broke down, herself, once everyone had left, and she was left truly and remarkably alone.
Harper wasn’t one to mind being alone, but this was different. It wasn’t just alone in the sense of “being by herself” or “not with other people,” it was Capital A, Alone, as in not having other people; as in being on her own... For the foreseeable future. A vast sense of isolation set in soon after, and still affected her deeply. Being Harper, of course, she did everything in her power not to let that show, mainly by channeling it into maintaining her reserved, witty, sophisticated, and at times, icy, demeanor. And when Harper put her all into something, she was successful...
Even if the voice inside her warning that it could actually be to her own detriment still hadn’t gone away, five years later.