Politics
The sky was perfect. Dark black velvet studded with diamonds. Or a dark black sea with dots of gleaming foam.
Or maybe just a dark black sky full of stars.
Just like when she was a little girl.
She was leaning on the balcony, one hand holding up her chin, the other dangling over the side, into the air, motionlessly suspended above the roses far below and invisible in the darkness.
Robes of deep purple brushed softly around her childlike frame in time with the wind. Tendrils of pale gold hair joined them in a timeless dance, ignoring the music that pulsed and sounded joyfully inside. Like herself.
"Lucia?"
Dark haired. Slightly tipsy. A little emotional after giving away his baby girl. But happy.
A slight incline of her head indicated she had heard him and the dangling hand rose to await a glass of wine.
A chink of crystal against ring, a murmur, and silence.
A sigh.
"As a child they told me I was wrong. They told me the sky was dark blue at night. But they lied." A clenched fist. "I was right. It's black."
He arched an eyebrow.
"And this has a deeper philosophical meaning, I presume?"
She gave a cynical giggle.
"Doesn't everything Cygnus?"
Eyes slanted sideways and met. And suddenly they were ten years old again and best of friends. Real giggles split the air.
Remember childhood?
"Why are you depressed Lucy?" His tone is teasing. "The Mother of the Groom should be happy." A great laugh soared up from the very bottom of his diaphragm. "Or is my daughter not to your taste?"
She punched his arm, smiling ruefully.
"Narcissa is a gem. The best daughter-in-law I could ever have hoped for."
"Hmm. Lucius is… adequate as a son-in-law."
"You git!"
Another punch. Less gentle but still within the borders of friendship.
"But seriously Lucy." A serious look. A serious tone. "What's wrong?"
Again she turned her head to the sky.
Remember?
Sorrowful. Quiet. Almost bitter but not quite. Like a horrid friend you'd known for so long you couldn't possibly hate them.
"Politics."
Such a horrid dirty friend!
Cygnus shrugged.
"We're politicians Lucy. Our children are getting married. Of course there's going to be talk of politics tonight. I thought you enjoyed heated debate. I know that idiot Crabbe has some distasteful ideas on the appointment of Madame Finch to the Department of-"
"It's not that Cygnus!"
"Well good, because he's my Mother's Uncle's second cousin twice removed, and I'd hate to have you fighting with my close family."
"You're such an idiot!"
Snorting.
"I'm a child of the forties. We were serious growing up so now we have a right, nay, a duty to be idiots!"
"Well there you have it."
Bitter tone. Bitter stance. Bitter twitch of a cheek muscle.
"Ah."
Bitter became poisonous. Words spitting and flowing in a swirling torrent of rage and pain.
"That bloody muggle war Cygnus! Why were we dragged into it? We should never have been involved! For Gods sake! Muggle loving fools running off to help, because we were fighting the Germans! What we? There is no we between Magical and muggle! And all the while some poor Germanic Pureblood Fraulein is watching as her brother lies ripped apart in the middle of the street, the pieces strewn everywhere, thanks to a English muggle bom."
Blood, blood everywhere. Dust. Rubble. Screaming muggles.
The sirens sound. All clear! All clear! They're gone We've survived? Hallelujah!
But where's my nephew? Where's my Grandmother? Where's my Aunt?
Where's my brother?
Search, search Lucia. Find him, find him! He has to be here!
Where is he Mummy? Where is he? Look harder, look harder!
Death, screaming, blood, blood, Blood!
Blond hair, white skin, pale grey eyes. Where are they, where are they?
Look Lucia. Search Lucia. Find Lucia
Stop looking Lucia! Don't look, don't look!
Running, stumbling, disobeying.
Blond hair, white skin and pale grey eyes.
Nowhere to be seen.
Everywhere to be seen.
This pavement. That pavement. All around the bricks and screaming.
No brother, but brother!
Blood, blood. Blood.
Bone, skin, hair.
Blood.
The thin stem of the wine glass was close to snapping Cygnus noted blandly as his arms slipped round Lucia's tiny shaking shoulders.
Rage so palpable it seemed to twisted and writhed through the air in dangerous mist vanished in a trice.
Cool steel, replaced it, as Lucia's cool steel eyes shifted to the newly weds behind them. Inside and warm. Far away from the hates of previous decades.
"It had a purpose I suppose. It proved what I'd learned at my Father's knee. Muggles can't be trusted."
"So we got involved in politics to make sure it could never happen again."
"Yes."
What will you be when you grow up Lucia?
I don't know Cygnus.
Well, what do you want to do?
I don't know.
I want to play Quidditch.
What will you be when we leave Hogwarts Lucia?
I don't know Cygnus.
Well, what do you want to do?
I want to help people. Protect them against muggles. I want George to be the last person they ever hurt.
I still want to play Quidditch.
And finally a smile. A smile not quite so wide and bright as it had been earlier when her son, her only child, her baby, had joined his life to Narcissa Black.
But a smile.
Not cynical. Not bitter. Not hurt.
Happy.
"They'll never know." The smile tested its strength. Flexed it's muscles and didn't find them too wanting. "They'll never have to face anything like it. Our children, and our children's children will live in a world without war."
"Amen."
They drifted into silence again. Content this time.
"Maybe the sky isn't black after all," she said thoughtfully. "Maybe it is dark, dark blue."
"Maybe it is now," he replied. "But it was black when we were children."
A hand pats a shoulder.
"Yes. But there were always the stars."
Thoughts?