How much time had passed was not of importance, as time did not exist in the dark netherworld I had been wandering with heavy foot steps, lost, forgotten even to myself. The quiet contemplation of the infinite, maleficent universe had oddly been tranquil. It was to say, that I was almost annoyed when the pale glow of light dancing and wavering appeared over my closed eyelids like a terrorist attack of afternoon sunlight sent to wake me. It was filtering in through a window somewhere. I could tell from the gentle heat against my skin.
An emptiness occupied my chest as I opened my eyes, a few blinks at a time. My vision allowed itself to lighten from the obsidian veil gradually as I peered around with mild and fatigued interest. I was in an absurdly white room with a tall white hearth before me, glittering gold items littered the room, and a dusty blue armoire occupied the corner. A wall of windows held itself together to my left in wooden framing. It was unmistakably my room at the Malfoy Manor.
The war had ended, surely. I couldn't be entirely certain given the unfortunate way I'd spent the remainder of my energy executing as many Death Eater's as possible in a raging flame before collapsing into an abyss of horrific evil. It had felt like sinking into a pit of ink filled with slithering, wicked creatures. I had lost myself to the combined magic of the Veela and dark mark, and now, I was at peace with the nearly desolated remnants of love or pain that clung to my soul. Instead, I was now channeling a calm, heavy power that burned in my veins.
Draco was dead. Due to my knowledge of our relationship I was painfully aware that I should be feeling devastated. I closed my eyes again, willing myself to feel any mournful emotion if there was one to be found, but there was only an empty void left behind where my heart had lay. My eyes drifted lazily to my left hand, where my white wedding band still sat with the tiny moonstone in the center of the vine-like ornamentation, glowing timidly and in a dark shade of purple.
I could tell that my body was badly battered. Every time I breathed inwards my ribs made miniature crackling noises and pain shot across my mid-torso. I was covered head to toe in bandages, and the skin on my right hand was darkened as if I had stuck it into the ashes of an extinguished fireplace. It was a miracle that I was still alive at all, after the amount of brickwork that had collided with my body during the battle of Hogwarts and the wicked magic that almost tore me to shreds.
I ripped off the covers and shouted immediately from the pain. Probably not the wisest idea to move so quickly, but I had never been one to sleep off a recovery. I pushed to a creaky stance with my long hair wild in my face. I had yet to adjust to the terribly monotonous, pristine white color it had morphed itself into when the dark mark poisoned my Veela magic.
I achingly brought myself to the bathroom to inspect myself, leaning with both hands on the counter.
What I saw was startling, and I momentarily looked at the floor in disbelief. I had been beautiful once, incredibly beautiful with honey locks comprised of a multitude of colors ranging between browns, reds and blonds. My eyes had been an inviting golden warm hue and I'd radiated with sunkist skin from growing up on the coast of France in Antibes.
The girl that I saw in the mirror looked like a ghost version of my former self; an identical twin with a vastly alternate color palette, bleached from the evil coursing through her veins. Aside from the devastatingly platinum hair, I was pale and my eyes had somehow burned into a deep, dark black. My stare was now horribly intense.
I sighed; it could be worse. I could be dead.
I bathed and dressed myself in a black dress with a tight waste and long tight sleeves, and dragged the long train around on the floor behind me, pausing to hover at the wall of windows in contemplation. My hand was still inexplicably charred and I slipped on a single, white silk glove I found in the armoire, toying with the bow on the back of it. It must've been closer to the afternoon that day, in the deep of summer. The plants outside looked scorched and exhausted from the hot weather.
How long it had been since the final battle remained a mystery, but that had been in the second week of July. Upon opening one of the windows I was blasted with a wall of unwanted heat and quickly rolled it back into place, preferring instead to reside in the frigid temperatures of the gloomy, stony Manor.
I eventually decided to wander the Manor and inspect who was home. Answers to lingering questions were of heightened value, primarily why the Malfoy's had so loyally brought me back to their home for recovery even after their son had brutally perished.
In the familiar gloomy hallways I moved at a snail's pace from all of my injuries. My lungs were wheezing in a frightful way - I sounded like an elderly person walking with a breathing device haunting the building. The sound of my breathing was characterized by a screechy inhale followed abruptly by a gurgling noise as I exhaled.
The most misfortunate part of the entire scenario was that my room was located on the fifth floor of the seven-story depressing mansion. It took me at least twenty minutes to scale all five floors of snap-back stair cases and their landings, knowing that I would not be wise to attempt disapparition in such a compromised state.
I was aware from limited experience that Narcissa enjoyed eating her late lunch outside on the back porch when it was possible to do so. Sometimes Lucius found himself there with her and back in my weaker days at the Manor I had used to scatter at the sight of him instead of approaching her as planned. Now, I couldn't really care less if he was near me or what he had to say.
By the time I'd made it begrudgingly across the span of the Manor's ground floor I was worried she'd be finished already, when I heard her voice ahead through the dining room where the two French doors to the back patio were open wide.
Excellent, I thought sarcastically. I would in fact have to tolerate the abhorrent company of Lucius Malfoy and all his sarcastic quips.
The sun's rays dripped in through the tall windows that framed the curtain wall of the backside of the Manor. Dust could be seen floating sleepily in the bright yellow strands of light. In the informal dining area I picked my way around multitudes of Renaissance chairs and tables clustered tightly together until I could feel the warm breeze on my face. Avidly permeating the air was the smell of the gardens that encompassed the black megastructure like nature's band aid for the eyesore that it was.
Narcissa's voice floated regally and calmly through the open doorway as I reached it, "Precisely, darling. It will get better with time. Hallewell has assured us that you will make a full recovery. One must remember, you are now only the second person to have ever survived a killing curse-"
She dropped her spoon in a dramatic clatter when she noticed me standing in the doorway, watching her blankly. She nearly fell out of her chair in shock, clapping her hand to her chest, "My goodness, Madeleine you startled me dear. How ironic that you both decided to wake up mere days apart. Both of you should still be sleeping." Her eyes shot anxiously to the person she was with across the table.
My eyes widened as Draco turned rapidly towards me from where his chair was facing away out towards the gardens, his eyes wandering down the stranger in his home. We stared at each other for a long minute in confusion. I stepped forward slowly, squinting at him in disbelief. His bright hair was longer than I'd ever seen it. His eyes were notably bloodshot and his fingers were trembling where they were gripping the table. He looked weak and thin, but somehow he was alive and breathing before me. He was wearing black joggers and a huge white hoodie regardless of the sweltering temperatures, the hood pulled over his head in his typical chosen fashion.
"Who the fuck are you?" He rudely questioned, and I noticed that his cerulean eyes narrowed on me suspiciously.
"You're alive?" I whispered in surprise, unable to stop staring at him. It wasn't possible.
He turned back to his mother, "Who is this? What are they doing in our house?" His voice came out as deep and demanding as I remembered it being. I felt a splash of irritation make it's way through my nervous system, recalling that he had been stripped of any notion of my existence the day of the battle. The obliviation of his memories had evidently retained it's clean-cut wipe-out despite his miraculous survival. It would be unrealistically optimistic to hope otherwise.
Narcissa's eyes slowly closed in defeat, "Well, I'd hoped we would have had more time to transition this civilly, that perhaps one of you would wake up well before the other. Madeleine, why don't you join us - it is Draco's first day out of his bed as well. We have a lot to cover." Her perfectly manicured nail pointed to the pastel pink chair between her and Draco. I could see a glimmer of fear in her eyes as she invited me, as though I had brought an axe to lunch seeking murderous vengeance on them.
I floated over and sat, tucking my long dress below me and cocking my head to the side to inspect him with a concentrated stare. My eyes roamed in shock over his features, searching ridiculously for a similar scar to Harry Potter's with no avail. There was no explanation for him being alive; I'd watched him die myself at the hands of the dark lord. It had been a public execution. He shifted uncomfortably, his arms coming up across his chest in an x shape as though he were cold, "What are you looking at, freak?" he spat.
Narcissa frowned immediately, "Draco, find your manners." He simply rolled his eyes and chewed on crackers, looking away from both of us.
She sipped on tea and nodded at me, "How are you feeling? Or I suppose the question might be better framed, are you feeling anything at all?" Her bright blue eyes fixated on me with nervous patience as she sipped. I tried not to stare at where her hand was in her pocket clearly clinging to her wand defensively. It occurred to me that she had an exhausting afternoon ahead of her having to deal with both of us at once, and that somehow, she was deeply afraid of me.
I nonchalantly pulled at the pile of grapes in the middle of the table, and responded in a bored voice, "I feel 'ollow, yet peaceful, like I don't...'ave a soul." My eyes wandered to Draco's thin form as he pointedly struggled to cut into a green apple.
Narcissa followed where my gaze was landing in understanding, "You remember him, but you don't have any emotions left for him, do you?"
I glanced down at the beautiful silver plate before me in consideration, when my thoughts were interrupted by Draco losing his patience with the cryptic scenario, "Can someone fill me in so I don't have to keep pretending like I'm sitting over here like fucking a placemat?" His closed fist came down on the table and several loose items bounced with the force. He cried lightly in pain, shaking out his fingers. It was silent save for his hushed cursing. Narcissa obviously wasn't prepared to explain our relationship to him.
He sneered between us, finally taking the time to analyze me with greater detail, "Why do you look like that? What is wrong with your eyes?"
"Draco Malfoy, I will not remind you again to be polite," Narcissa's voice was brash and warning as she turned her head to the side with large eyes. I chewed on the grapes, not breaking his eye contact. I knew a mocking grin was spreading across my expression and I struggled not to laugh in his serious face. He looked back at his mother and gestured to me as though we were both toddlers and I was being unfair.
A stout elf whom I recognized named Gardie appeared with a light popping noise to offer Narcissa more hot water for tea and she warmly agreed. Once we all had new cups I pulled my legs up into my chair to cross them without grace and chewed at food that was available before us.
"Where to begin," she smoothly worded, stirring sugar into her glass. "Let's see. Draco, I cannot apologize enough for what has been done to your memories." Her face fell suddenly with dismay, "Your father...has taken a leave of absence from the property for an undetermined amount of time, at Azkaban, for his willing role in the dark lord's army. He is under special investigation for obliviating three years of your memories and encouraging you to hunt Order members. What he has done is nothing short of unforgivable. My darling you have a long road of catching up to do."
Draco somehow went a shade paler than he already was. He frowned down at his tea with angry, burning eyes, "You mean to tell me that Lucius did this to me, and you let him?" His teeth were barred as he spoke and I could see notions of revenge seeping into his features. He twisted the knife he'd been using for the apple in his hand, and I was reminded of the boy whom I had known to be a vicious soldier.
Narcissa bristled with agitation, "I was unable to prevent his agenda - I was not present the moment that it occurred. He chose to hide his intentions until the very last minute." Draco breathed heavily as if to ignore her, his eyebrows furrowing together into a long line down the center of his forehead while his thoughts drifted somewhere in concentration. He was evidently enraged with his father and I surmised that it was probably a good thing that Lucius was not at the Manor anymore.
"As for you," she turned to me with a raised eyebrow, her eyes landing on the way I was sitting in the chair sloppily, "You have earned my respect, although you certainly still lack proper decorum. That can be improved upon. What I am afraid is that you may have entirely lost your humanity. You will need to see Dr. Hallewell immediately for an evaluation. I must say, this initial interaction has gone better than expected."
"Lost her humanity?" Draco barked in entertainment, snapping up to glance at me with a sideways grin. He was still pathetically trying to cut the apple with his wobbly strength, "Exactly how does one do that?"
I reached across the table in sudden impatience and pulled the plate towards me to slice the apple several times with ease, pushing it back at him with force. The apple slices piled ungracefully in the rapid motion. Narcissa covered her mouth with her hand to conceal an amused smirk.
It would take far too long to explain everything about myself and the war to him that afternoon, and his attitude was beginning to irk me already, "I don' think dat story is for right now, Draco. Focus on your own problems."
He gradually dragged the plate back to himself with an indignant glare on his pretty face, "I can cut my own food."
"I don' think dat you can," I snorted menacingly.
His eyes zeroed in on me like lasers, the way I'd seen him do it a thousand times. In the past it had used to be intimidating. "You're French. How interesting and out of place. Mother, who the fuck is for the thousandth time?"
Narcissa had a tender, sly smile on her lips, "Your wife, darling."
He laughed sarcastically in disbelief, "So you mean to tell me Astoria, what, dropped off the face of the planet? And you've upgraded me with this vampire?" It was quiet as both Narcissa and I maintained straight faces, waiting for him to accept the information. A yellow butterfly landed on his shoulder while he huffed with wide eyes between us, clearly unaware of the insect's presence on his clothing, "If there is a third level to this marriage nightmare, I don't even want to know what's coming next." He peered at me viciously, obviously hoping for a reaction.
I leaned back in my chair and stretched my arms lazily upwards as though he hadn't just horribly insulted me, looking up at the sun and the blue sky above. Unbeknownst to him, I knew everything about him. I was well-versed in all of his tactics and his mannerisms. His feelings towards the information being presented could be expected from a realistic perspective, and his responses were all predictable. He thought he was seventeen and he had no memories of me whatsoever.
All of the memory vials in Armand's tomb within the dungeon had been destroyed, and the only memories left were those in the watch on his wrist, which I doubted he had even realized was there yet. The password was supposedly unbreakable to someone who didn't know it - and he no longer knew it. Having been the only one to code it, there was very little chance of any material being recovered.
Narcissa patted my bent knee gently and nervously, as though I were a bear about to attack her son for the insult, "Please remember, you are still quite beautiful Madeleine. Draco is simply in a state of shock."
"A state of shock!" he shouted in outrage, interrupting her last words. His hands slammed flat on the table with a gut wrenching wince. Narcissa jumped as her tea splashed all over the tablecloth before her in the earthquake. My head pulled down from the stretch to watch as he tried futilely to push himself to a stand, but he apparently couldn't. "This is beyond a state of shock! My bones feel like they've been dipped in acid, everything hurts. I can't recall who I am, and I definitely don't know this girl who is supposed to be my fucking wife!"
He slumped forward with his hands over his face, abandoning the hope of running from the porch. He wept into his fingers, his pointy nose jutted out between his rings. We both watched as his shoulders bounced with his light, breathy cries, as probably anyone would in such a disturbing scenario. The amount of information he had to process would resemble being hit by a train. I was forlornly reminded of one of his memories I had witnessed where he had cried similarly to the news of being paired with Astoria.
Both Narcissa and I exchanged concerned glances. "As I said, there is a lot to for you decipher in the coming months, Draco," she carefully reminded him.