Isobel wasn’t good with kids, nor had she ever technically wanted her own - yes, she was nice to kids, but that didn’t mean she’d ever planned to have to raise children and have to do all the work that came with it. She wasn’t good at showing affection, she barely said “I love you”, and didn’t hug.

Much.

The last time she’d gotten so much as a hug was her first birthday. Yes, Isobel felt guilty for not being kind, not acting as smart and beautiful as she was, as a mother should be for her children - but how do you love others without loving yourself?

And Minerva, as the eldest and the smartest at the age of twelve, knew this very well. She’d already helped Isobel explain to her brothers that they weren’t supposed to flaunt magic, only in her second year of Hogwarts.

But that didn’t answer her question towards her mother by any means - she knew she was unhappy, but couldn’t she love them? Love her?

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“Mum? Can I come in?”