Disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination. If I owned Harry Potter and LOTR, I'd be so rich right now.
Ch1.
Rain, that's all that seemed to exist in the world. The sound of water crashing down upon the rugged ground. The smell of dust lingering in the wind. Autumn came in the form of liquid frost, chilling and killing the spirit.
Godiva had long secluded herself within the confines of no.12 Grimmauld Place. The worn purple velvet walls had been cleaned, the chandeliers dusted, and the furniture replaced. After the events of the second war, Godiva had turned down the Weasleys' offer to stay at the burrow which had been repaired on the behalf and insistence of Godiva. Fred's death and Percy's return was more than the poor family could handle. Guilt wrecked her mind and spoiled her spirit. Godiva looked upon the Weasley's as her own, yet it was her fault that they had been the victims of misfortune. She needed to rest, and rest she did.
Four months, she had confined herself within these walls with only her thoughts and Kreacher as company . Funny thing, Kreacher, after destroying the locket, she and the elf had formed a sort of mutual tolerance for each other. In fact, after her return to Grimmauld, she had ordered the elf to renovate the house completely, and much to her surprise he did so without any hesitation.
Laying upon the black velvet divan in the living room, a spot she found herself increasingly fond of , Godiva twirled a flute of red wine between her fingers, letting the cold glass stem dance between the junctions of her fingers. Her head hung halfway from the edge of the seat, her body rested in an odd angle with her long pale legs rested on the seat with curled over the top edge of the wooden frame to keep her from falling. Black tendrils of silk hair formed the halo around her head. Her silk grey robe parted with the movement of her legs, revealing the lavender acromantula silk negligee she wore, a gift from Ginny for her 16th birthday with the urging for her to "live a little" . Live she did, though just not in the manner the ginger had meant. Chasing horcruxes, riding dragons, and leading a war was definitely challenging the meaning of living. In the process she had even lost her life. The words and mistakes of a dead foolish warlock had long faded from her mind, no longer fueling her anger and misery. Now, she felt little. Life held little excitement. But she really didn't mind. Lounging in the midst of a rainstorm wrapped in silk was very much welcomed in comparison to near death experiences, something she was quite tired of.
Sipping the rest of the Merlot, Godiva called for her elf, " Kreacher!" A pop followed almost immediately , followed by an old wrinkly elf in a clean pillow case.
Bowing, Kreacher looked at his mistress, "Mistress Black, be calling Kreacher. How may Kreacher be of service ?"
" Another glass , please" She had grown fond of wine, a sweet comfort she had soon discovered after a week of staying at Grimmauld. The elf frowned, age lines digging deeper if possible , into his forehead. "Mistress musn't drink too much wine! Tis' poor for her health it is. Mistress needs to get out of house , she does. " But obligingly, he poured her another glass, but only half way.
"Thank you , Kreacher", Godiva said before taking a sip from her glass, a smile at her lips. The dear elf had grown fond of her and her of him. Lately , after calling upon him he'd mutter on about how she stayed in the house far too much.
Looking at Lady Black , as she was now technically honoured as the Black line was far older than the Potter's, Kreacher determinedly said, " Mistress is young! She is beautiful! She must not die in this house alone!No this elf will not allow that! No!"
"Kreacher…"
"No! Mistress must live! Mistress must!" Kreacher spouted with determined anger and frustration. If only she would understand! It pained him to see her wallowing in this empty house even if he enjoyed her company.
"Kreacher" Godiva started, once more trying to catch the elf's attention , though in vain as he continued to mutter angrily, "Kreacher!" Startling the elf out of his thoughts, he went quiet at her shout. "Kreacher" she said with an exhausted sigh, brushing stray lock of her hair from her face, setting the glass down upon the coffee table , " Enough. You've made your point just fine." Her condescending tone made the poor elf look down at his feet in embarrassment .
"I just need more time. The world is not yet ready and neither am I" She felt so lost and without purpose, "I promise I'll try tomorrow , alright? I'll visit the Weasleys."Looking down upon the elf, she saw him nod in agreement. Seeing that her words placated the elf, she smiled and dismissed him.
With a sigh, she let herself fall down upon the divan. What was she to do? Kreacher was right. She couldn't spend the rest of her life hiding away in this rotting house, despite its recent renovation. The promise to visit her surrogate family rang deep in her head. Guilt rose into her lungs like tar, slowly eating away at her ability to breath. Tears prickled at her eyes. Molly was the first to grab her after she crumpled from magic exhaustion after the battle. Pulling her tight into her bosom, Molly had comforted her like the mother she was, telling her that none of it was her fault and she was always welcome in their family. Fred, George, Arthur, Molly, Bill, Charlie, Ginny and Ron had all done so much for her. They even considered her family even after Fred's death. Yet her she was, wallowing in self-pity.
"Gods, what has happened to me?" Godiva whispered to herself. Sitting up abruptly, she stormed up the stairs the master bedroom , now her bedroom, her robe swirling and flaring behind her with her long graceful strides. Swinging open the bathroom door with such force it slammed violently against the wall, Godiva rushed to the full length mirror and looked at the girl, no , woman staring back at her. Black ink silk tendrils fell atop her lush breast barely flowing over their peaks.
All 1.7 ( approx. 5' 7'') meters of her staring back at her. Her thin bare legs peaked from behind the folds of her long silk robe. Letting the robe fall gently from her shoulders, Godiva pulled her arms from her sides to caress the contours of her lean face, eyes never leaving the woman in the mirror. Viridian eyes stared intently back at her, no obstructions other than the mirror between them, she had long abandoned her glasses after taking a vision repairing potion Kreacher had purchased on her behalf. Her face had lost it's roundness, now sharp with maturity. Her cheekbones stood high and mighty; her nose was strong and topped with a soft salmon pink lips were stained red from the wine. She caressed the lining of her long defined neck and her sharp jaw. Overall , she was fair skinned and thin from having not eaten much in the last year since hunting down the horcruxes and isolating herself in Grimmauld.
Steeling herself with determination, she clenched at the red fabric and pulled it over her head, letting it drop to the tiled floors. The first thing her eyes drew to was the faint outlines of her ribs. Too thin. She had forgotten to care for herself and now the results were showing. Sneering at the imagine in the mirror, Godiva quickly wandlessly dressed herself and spun out the door towards her bedroom. With a snap of her fingers, she summoned her elf .
" Mistress summons Kreacher. How may Kreacher be of service to his mistress?" The old elf croaked and wheezed in his old age.
"Fetch me my slippers . I'm going out" said the determined Potter-Black heir, her words causing Kreacher's eyes to grow to the size of saucers. Excitedly, Kreacher bounced from one foot to the other, and with a snap of his spindly fingers, dark grey slippers appeared at her feet. Seeing her apparel Kreacher said, " Mistress musn't go out in such close. No she musn't. Fall ill she will. "
Looking at Kreacher in consideration, " I suppose you're right", Godiva summoned a black cloak and stepped into the floo with a hand full of powder. WIth a shout, " Malfoy Manor!" She disappeared in emerald flames.
