Quitting Her
She shall not cry. Blink. Blink. She will not cry. A hand rests across her stomach, fingers poised and ready to claw into flesh. But she holds back her anger. In the glow the moon casts her engagement rings shines silver and she wonders if it is a hidden metaphor, something about gold turning lesser in the light of the sphere her husband so fears. She wonders if he is still tied to her as she is to him or if he has forfeited his golden band in favour of another life. One cannot be married to an unmarried man, so if he has broken his word hers dissolves into nothing. Her mother always did warn her of the dishonesty of men.
It is unfair, Nymphadora Tonks (she never did change her name, and now she wishes that she had, if only for another part of him to cling to) thinks, that in all her life as an Auror the only true friend to be ripped away left of his own accord (and here again she wonders at a cloaked meaning, the errand though that she has no friends to speak of passes through her mind.) She does wish that he had not left, merely because she is too tired to be furious or guilty or sad. Wishing is left for the hopeless, and the girl with the pink hair is all too close to hopelessness.
She shall not cry.
(It is the most sinful of crimes to break the tainted happy.)
26/4/11