Disclaimer - Lyrics belong to Jean-Jacques Goldman and the Harry Potter elements to JK Rowling. I just borrow them for fun!
A/N - OK, after writing 'Hellfire' I found myself wanting to do a piece from Kathryn's point of view and a couple of days later I was listening to the song 'Elle Attend' (She Waits) by the French artist Jean-Jacques Goldman, and it made me think of the following one-shot. Again, you would have to be familiar with my main story to really get the whole reason behind it, but basically it looks at her feelings 5 years after Lucius' incarceration. It's all hypothetical, so something like this may or may not happen in 'Story 4', I haven't decided yet!! I know the song is in French, but a translation really just woudn't make sense...it's all about a girl who is waiting for something, but we don't know what....listen to it if you can because it's a lovely song!
Anyway, please read, enjoy and leave me a shiny review!!
Elle attend que le monde change
Elle attend que changent les temps
Elle attend que ce monde étrange
Se perde et que tournent les vents
Inexorablement, elle attend
I wait for the world to change, for times to change. Soon those who hold power, who keep me from the things I want, will be swept away with the changing winds. Until then I will wait, I will remain here; steadfast and strong. I know that it cannot be much longer. It is like waiting for the dawn; the interminable hours before the sun lights the horizon.
They may have taken all I love from me but I will not let it be forgotten. True, I had my moment of grief, but that swiftly turned into anger. They underestimated how such a loss would affect me. They thought I would be broken by heartache, by the loss of one I care for so much. Instead it has galvanised me, it has made me stronger. I am damned if I survived being hunted down by the darkest wizard of all time only to be broken by our pathetic excuse for a Minister.
It has been over four years and I have not stopped fighting. It is a state that I am used to, having spent half my life struggling against a seemingly unstoppable force. I do sometimes wonder what will happen when I no longer have anything to battle for. Maybe by then I will relish the calm.
I was once told that I was a hero and that I was never to let anyone tell me otherwise. I think I have followed that advice to the letter. I have never apologised for what happened, for I did nothing wrong. My only crime was daring to love. The Prophet came round in the end, finally admitting that I too was responsible for the downfall of Voldemort; lauding me as a national hero for bearing such pains for my cause. Even so, I did not give them the interview they begged for. They are fools if they think I will forget that easily.
No, I am comfortable to remain shrouded in mystery. I don't want people to have an idea of what I am thinking, but I like them to speculate. Speculation generates interest and interest generates exposure. It makes sure that they don't forget what happened.
Elle attend que l'horizon bouge
Elle attend que changent les gens
Elle attend comme un coup de foudre
Le règne des anges innocents
Inexorablement, elle attend
The person that told me to never forget that I was a hero also taught me an important lesson about power and the influence it brings. I have untold millions at my fingertips and I know how to use it. Even the simple promise of money will have people bending over backwards to give me what I want, be it their support or the correct words whispered in someone's ear. Mere words can bring the best laid plans tumbling down. My name is currency, even though I do not wish it to be, but it allows me to manoeuvre in the inner circles of politics without anyone batting an eyelid.
And indeed I do manoeuvre. My invitations are the only ones a politician will not turn down. My parties and dinners are legendary, not only for the attendees, but also for the back-room politics that inevitably goes on. People may coo over the fine food and beautiful gowns, but it is in the quiet of the study or the library where the real business goes on. The only person that never merits an invitation is the most powerful politician in the Ministry.
I know that eventually, our horizons will change and with that people will also evolve. Like the dawn that now slowly creeps over the trees to the east, the horizon will grow brighter than ever, with the promise of an unparalleled age of peace before us. It is then that my waiting will be over. People will see past the old prejudices and will be able to accept the way in which I bridge the divide between the old world and the new future we will build.
Elle attend que la grande roue tourne
Tournent les aiguilles du temps
Elle attend sans se résoudre
En frottant ses couverts en argent
Inexorablement, elle attend
And so it is here I will wait as the hands of time continue to turn. Some see it as a gilded cage; this grand house with its many rooms and expansive grounds. I disagree. This house is my home, it has been for several years now, and only one more thing will make it complete. I look out over the gardens below me, dew sparkling on the pristine lawns as the first rays of sunlight wash over them, and I feel a new sadness.
The sun is rising on the fifth anniversary of his removal from my life. They didn't even let me say goodbye, at least, not properly. They dragged me off him, I was holding on so hard that I ended up taking his cloak with me. I spent two days in bed wrapped up in it, exhausted and grief-ridden, just savouring his scent that clung around the collar. It is draped around my shoulders now to stave off the chill in the spring air.
Even with all my political scheming, he is the real reason behind it. I have no great political aspirations, although some appear to believe that I will one day be Minister. It is the thought of what I will one day get back which drives me on. Beyond that, I know that people want new leadership. They want to move forward, beyond the haunting memories of death and night skies lit an eerie green by the Dark Mark.
Et elle regarde des images
Et lit des histoires d'avant
D'honneur et de grands équipages
Où les bons sont habillés de blanc
Et elle s'invente des voyages
Entre un fauteuil et un divan
D'eau de rose et de passion sage
Aussi purs que ces vieux romans
Some days I see the pictures and they make me sad. I remember days gone by when nobody knew but us and we were happy. I tire of waking to an empty bed; the pillow undisturbed where a warm body should lie. Like in those very first days, he haunts my dreams; always just beyond my reach. I have no idea of how he does, if he is even alive. The Ministry does not want me to know. It appears that no one knows, save for one to whom I shall never resort to asking. He would make me beg before he gave me news and I am not going to let him humiliate me like that.
I am resolved to my waiting, I accepted it a long while ago. I know it cannot be much longer. I lie in bed and I imagine the things we will do and the places we will go once he is free and recovered. It is a life I so long to lead; one of great love and passion, secure in the knowledge that there will never be another to capture my attention in such a way. It is only then that I will be completely free, once my love is no longer seen as a betrayal, as a sin.
For now, I will sit here on the divan and watch the sunrise. Although each sunrise brings fresh pain, they also bring hope. Hope is what drives me, what makes me get out of bed each morning, because I know that someday I will be rewarded for my perseverance. Someday I will open my door and he will be standing there.
Aussi grands que celui qu'elle attend
Until then I will wait…