"All I wished for was to not be a Slytherin. Pure blood supremacy was woven into the material of those jade coloured ties and I would rather strangle myself with one than wear it."
After returning from her time spent on the run, Lyra, unruly, sarcas...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
-Draco Malfoy-
Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.
My eyes must have read over and over the same passage all night, my quill hovering above the paper, my previous notes already surrounding the line. But this time I didn't feel the same way I had when my opinions were first written. I felt different, awoken, almost. Yet, still I couldn't find the words to write; to explain the way it now made me feel.
For now, I could imagine loving someone so deeply, that even in death, they could still shine through into ones life like stars. The thing she found so comforting, so safe and sure. And that now, I did too.
Finally, I put the play down. But sleep wasn't looking likely. Emerald lay next to me, sleeping in the last of the twilight. The garish sun was nearly full in the sky, and I, had not yet slept. I'm surprised Lyra had even slept at all. When we returned from the remains of my manor, in the early hours of the morning, she didn't say a word, only went straight upstairs. She hadn't spoken a word in 5 full days. To anyone. And every night, since then, I had heard her, walking around in our little room. Not speaking, not crying, or calling out. She didn't need me. She only needed to be by herself, and strangely pacing across the wooden floor. Which I could hear, as I slept on the broken sofa, in the living room, directly below her. Laying between the faces of my disapproving family that scattered the mealy green walls. It was vile.
But she needed time. I think. I'm not good with loss. I've been given everything I could have ever needed since my first breath, material wise, I guess. As far as fatherly support goes, maybe not so much. Nonetheless, Emerald was the only person I had ever lost, and although she wasn't dead, it had stung like hell.
On the 6th night, she came out of her room for the first time, yet still she didn't speak, only opened her door for me. I understood, and I didn't say anything, only watched her as she finally snuggled herself under the covers, and closed her eyes. I got under the sheets next to her, but didn't touch her, or stroke her hair. Only lay there, so she could feel my presence beside her.
Undeniably, I didn't feel much remorse for the Carrow boy. He allowed them to torture her, and smiled as he watched me scream her name. He called the Dark Lord upon us, and turned us over to their side, destroying what we thought was our only chance at an escape. To me that was unforgivable. But to her, I knew that he meant much, much more. In my sorry eyes, he was cruel, as vicious, not worthy for the grief she drowned in. He was a traitor. But then again, maybe that would've been me. I shouldn't think like that, but it was true. If Emerald had not given me something to live for, it sounds petty I know, but I would've easily given my services to the Dark Lord. What difference would it have made. It my mind, I was dead anyways. Until she came along. Fabian had no one to drag him out of the depths as he drowned.
