𝑈𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 ☾ 𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑜 𝑀𝑎𝑙𝑓𝑜𝑦

Aftermath ☾ 6-00

Her cackle echoed off of the walls, disturbing the once peaceful yet bustling offices. It crashed through my mind, repeating her taunting words.

Over and over.

My head was on my mother's chest, her shirt soaked through with tears. Her lifeless body was cold and taut underneath my fingertips, and I could feel none of the warmth that had thrummed through her blood before.

Bellatrix had killed her. And she did it over and over, and all I could do was watch in agony as the sparkle drained from my mother's eyes. Her limbs twisted in wrong angles as she crumpled to the floor.

Over, and over, and over again.

The cackling. Taunting. Cold skin meeting my gentle grip. Tears soaking the both of us. The scream of my father.

Over, and over, and over.

I gasped as I sat up, sweat plastering my hair to my forehead, my throat raw from screaming. My gaze was met with the darkness of my bedroom, the familiar walls no longer soothing. I lay back down, hands fisted in the sheets. The nightmares had begun after the end of school, and I continued to suffer through the same one every single night since then. I thought I would get used to it, the nightmares, the absence of her, but I didn't. I never did. The house seemed empty, cold, and dark without her. I mean, it was always a bit empty and dark, but it never felt that way. We had moved back into our townhouse from 12 Grimmauld Place after Sirius died. It had all disappeared after that night. Even with sunlight streaming through the windows of our kitchen every morning, it seemed bleak. She was gone.

Her death had affected my father just as much, perhaps even more-so. He confined himself to his study, only coming out to work, sleep or eat. His once cheerful appearance had been replaced with dreary misery. He never smiled anymore, and kept to himself. International Quidditch had halted for the sake of safety, and my father was holding on to his job by a thread. He had barely spoken to me all summer, and it was eating at me from the inside out. I sent and received a few letters, but only with Harry, Draco, Hermione, and Ron. I know I had promised to write to Davies and Stretton, but I couldn't bare to muster the courage. I had barely spoken either.

Draco had come over a few times to check on me, but he has been considerably busy since the events of last year. His father had faced an intense trial, and was taken to Azkaban for his crimes as a Death Eater. Narcissa had taken Draco and walked out of the trial, not even bothering to testify. They had lost incredible amounts of respect from nearly everyone in their little pureblood circle, but I tried to maintain at least a bit of contact. Draco was broken inside, and we both knew that while his father had been a terrible person, he was still a father. Narcissa and his portrait had been in the Prophet, along with a rather intense and violating article.

I was worried, but it was hard for me to feel much of anything anymore. It, however, wasn't from lack of trying. The first of September was approaching quickly, and I still had plans to Captain the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. I had picked up uniforms and supplies for the new year, as instructed by Davies, but it felt strange, and insignificant. Still, it was one of the only things keeping me from tipping over the edge. My hair was constantly black now, and I had finally noticed after an entire month. Since Umbridge had gone I was no longer required to keep my hair restricted to a dull brown, but my emotions had been so few that the only colour it had shown since June was black.

As my head rested against the pillow, I tried to close my eyes, but sleep evaded me. It was a wonder I could truly function at all, after all these sleepless nights. I rose from my bed and began to dress. I chose a simple sweater and jeans, I had nobody to impress with fancy attire anytime soon. As I walked quietly down the dark stairs, I heard the restless breathing of my father in his bedroom. He hadn't slept either. The kitchen was dark in the extremely early morning, but I silently lit a few candles. I sat down at the table and put my head in my hands. It was much to early to read anything, and I didn't have much of an appetite.