𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 - 𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞

❃ chapter one

❃

June 27th, 1985

Rain pattered against stained glass windows, air rich with old mahogany and expensive perfume as two children sat on the patterned silk rug, action figures scattered across the upstairs living room floor.

Despite the weather, the walls were thin, and a faint knocking upon the front door was just loud enough to hear.

"What was that, Theodore?"

"I dunno. Perhaps a package, Mum will get it."

The boy shook his head, placing the doll back inside the large toy box.

"No, I'd like to see."

Before his young friend could argue, Draco was scampering down the hall, nearly tripping down the stairs as he reached the large front door.

The small fist continued to pound against wood, Draco reaching for the handle before turning it with his hand.

There stood a little girl with no rain jacket, clothes soaked wet from the morning storm. Tears blended with raindrops against her puffy red eyes, panting from the long sprint she'd taken from her household nearly a mile down the paved, winding road.

"What's wrong, Maybelle?" Draco's hand grasped onto hers, pulling her inside where she wiped her sparkling pink sneakers on the doormat to rid them of mud.

Soft blubbers left her lips, none of which Draco could understand.

"Who is it, boys?" Mrs. Nott entered the hall in her bathrobe, hair pinned up in curls with red lipstick swiped across her lips. Face dropping, she shuffled Draco and Theodore towards the stairs, the girl standing dripping onto the wooden floorboards.

Draco and Theodore peeked from behind the wall as the woman kneeled down, wiping tears from her sorrow and fearful complexion.

"You can't keep coming here, May baby," Mrs. Nott consoled the girl, wiping her soaked curls with a dry kitchen rag.

"But- but he-"

"Come sit down in the meantime, your friends are upstairs," she exclaimed with a kind smile, hoisting Maybelle onto a kitchen stool covered by a towel, handing her a juice box from the refrigerator.

"Why is she crying?" Theodore questioned quietly, furrowing his brows.

Draco lightly hit his shoulder.

"Be quiet."

Banging, much louder this time erupted against the front door. Maybelle shrieked, juice spilling across the counter as she jumped to the ground, hiding beneath the kitchen table.

Mrs. Nott sighed shakily, approaching with caution.

She opened the door.

"Mr. Cliffdane," she spoke quietly, head hung low as he entered the house, black boots clunking against the floor.

"Where is she?"

"In the kitchen, right this way," she spoke as he followed in her path.

"My sincerest apologies," the man muttered, running a hand over his stubbled jaw, "She just can't seem to listen to a damn thing I scold her for, the fucking brat."

Reaching beneath the table his hand grasped around the little girl's shoulder, forcing her to her feet.

Draco winced as the man slapped a hand across her cheek, fresh hot tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

"If you run away one more time, Maybelle, I will kill you. Do you understand?"

She shook her head, shaking her arm from his grasp.

"Daddy, no, please-"

He reached for his wand, pressing it against her neck.

"I said, do you understand?"

She nodded abruptly, a small squeak leaving her lips as he knelt down in front of her, placing his hands around her waist.

"Good," he smiled sweetly, reassuringly, hoisting her into his arms. He held her tightly to his chest as she sniffled into his shoulder defeated, dampening his collared shirt.

Her big brown eyes met Draco's for nearly a moment, his own wide with fright as he stared at the red hand mark imprinted across her cheek.

The door slammed shut behind them, Draco and Theodore standing completely still as Mrs. Nott collapsed onto the sofa, wiping her own tears with the sleeve of her blouse.

As they attempted to tip toe away, a floorboard creaked beneath their feet.

"Boys," Mrs. Nott approached them with a sweet look, her acting hardly good enough to fool a child, "Why don't you two go play, alright?"

Theodore plodded up the stairs, but Draco was stuck with his feet planted to the floor, unable to move a step.

"Draco," she repeated herself, "Go play with Theodore. Lunch will be ready soon."

Nodding silently he began to creep up the stairs, the woman walking away once he reached the top.

With silent strides back downwards his eyes traced wet shoe prints in the main hall, Mrs. Nott bent over the counter as she rid the spilt juice with a paper towel.

With a shrug he returned to Theodore, and the world kept spinning, as though nothing had ever happened.

But that night would be the first of many in which he dreamed of those brown eyes, unknowing that years later, his dream would transform into a nightmare.

It would play repeatedly in his head like a stuck record player, flashes of brown appearing in his peripheral vision.

It grew to become constant in silence, until his eyes were completely blinded by brown, promising to himself that he would never call Maybelle by her first name again.

❃