The Evanescence Series

Title:  Paper Flowers, the fourth and last part of the Evanescence series.

Author: Just A Bit Potty

Rating: PG to PG-13, I'm unsure.

Disclaimer: Once again, not owning much here! Harry Potter and co. isn't mine; it's the beautiful J.K. Rowling's.

The fourth and last part of the Evanescence Series.

Summary: The daughter of two heartbroken people struggles to survive the depression her parents have sunk into… and tells her story to anyone who'll listen… anyone…?

Warning: You may not like the ending…

Oh and thank you to Angel of Death, thank you for reviewing. I'll write the Draco chapter soon.

Paper Flowers

~~~

I linger in the doorway

Of alarm clock screaming,

Monsters calling my name

Let me stay…

Where the wind will whisper to me

Where the raindrops as they're falling

Tell a story…

~~~

When I was a lot younger, maybe three or four, my daddy used to teach me Wizard's Chess. Especially when it was raining, and I couldn't go outside. He'd set up the chessboard in front of the fire, and sit me on his knee, telling my how to play. Then he'd challenge me to a match, even when most of the pieces ended up in my mouth. I loved those times, because it was the only time Daddy really played with me.

He still smiled back then.

He'd tell me he was the best at Wizard's Chess, and that he'd always beat his friend Harry when they were at school.

Then he'd get very quiet, and would ignore me for hours. Staring at the wall, or out a window. Mummy would start to cry. Then she'd disappear into the kitchen to make dinner.

I'd wait in my room for dinner, but I think Mummy would forget to cook because I would go to sleep without food.

That happens a lot more now.

I'm six now, but my friends tell my I still look four, and I was born nine months after the Last War. Mummy told me that that's when Harry Potter died. She always gets tears in her eyes when anyone talks about Harry Potter. I think it's because she was his best friend, and so was Daddy, but they hardly every say anything about him, even when I ask. Only that he was a great hero who died a long time ago. I'm not sure what they mean, but I think it's that he's gone away for a long time. They must miss him a lot.

The one who told me the most about Harry is Mr. Malfoy. He said he loved Harry, and that he never stopped. I don't think he had any other friends, because he would always come over here and talk to me, almost every day. He'd arrive at breakfast time, and Mummy and Daddy never refused him. Every day they had an extra plate set out for him, even if he didn't show up. He hardly ever missed a day with us.

After breakfast I was always ushered out of the room. I'd wait in the living room, pretending to read, while I listened to the hushed voices in the kitchen. Then the sound of someone crying; I think it was Mr. Malfoy.

He'd come out with red eyes and a blotchy face, but I still think he was very handsome. He'd take me outside and sit on the porch next to me, and tell me stories. A lot of them were sad and made me want to cry…. And all of them were about Harry Potter. I didn't mind though, because he always looked so sad and lost when he came to visit, worse than Daddy does now. I always tried my best to cheer him up, but I guess it didn't work:

One day he stopped coming around.

~~~

In my field of paper flowers

And candy clouds of lullaby

I lie inside myself for hours,
And watch my purple sky fly over me

~~~

I tug on Daddy's shirt, trying to get his attention. He's just sitting there staring at the wall again and it's scary. I hate it when he does that. He does it a lot more lately, his eyes wide and empty like he's sleeping with his eyes open.

Mummy's in the kitchen, pretending to make dinner but I know she's crying again because Daddy's gone quiet. I… I think it's my fault… I miss Mr. Malfoy… I asked Mummy if he'd gone to see Harry Potter, because I wish he'd come around again, but whenever I ask where he went, nobody answers me. Nobody else visits us.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm invisible. If my family is invisible… If Mummy and Daddy love me anymore…

I wish I could make them happy…

I hug myself and back away from my daddy, sniffling softly. It's not fair… I miss my real daddy, the daddy I had before… before he got sad. I don't know why he's so sad all the time, only that it makes Mummy cry.

"Please Daddy, wake up," I whisper, my voice soft and shaky. My throat hurts and my eyes sting, and I think I'm crying, but I don't really know… when I cried before, someone would hug me and make me feel better, but now nobody notices… so I don't know if I'm really crying or not. If I were, wouldn't someone come and hug me?

When Daddy doesn't answer me, just keeps staring silently at the wall, I try not to shiver and trudge slowly back to the room, slowing just enough to hear in case Daddy or Mummy call me back and want to hug me.

I stand in front of my door; it stares sadly back at me, it's white face painted with faded rainbows.

Nobody called me back.

I push open my door and make my way over to me bed. It's soft and warm, like a hug, as I curl up under the covers.

And stare at the ceiling. It's charmed to look like the night's sky.

Mummy told me that.

~~~

Don't say I'm out of touch

With this rampant chaos – your reality

I know well what lies beyond

My sleeping refuge

The nightmare I built my own world

To escape…

~~~

I don't feel well. Everyday my chest hurts worse. Everyday Mummy pretends. Every day… I think my daddy dies.

I don't like to go outside my room anymore, either. It's not as lonely in my room, with the magical ceiling. When nobody else hugs me, I hug my toys that I got when I was a baby. Mummy said Daddy couldn't afford to buy any more for me, so these were all I would get for now.

These days, Mummy usually sits with Daddy in the living room, while Daddy stares at the wall. She reads a really big book, but never lets me see what's inside, even though I'm nearly seven and I could read real good ever since I was four. In the morning when I wake up, she tells me that breakfast and lunch are already in the fridge, then goes to sit with Daddy and read.

Both of them are getting very skinny and I wonder if they ever eat. Daddy hardly talks to me anymore. I miss when he was laughing and funny, before Mr. Malfoy left.

I miss when Mummy would cuddle me, but she said she'd 'do it later', when Daddy's better.

It's been three months since she told me that. Daddy is still staring.

My birthday is in a week.

~~~

I found a picture album in the attic the other day… It had pictures of my mummy, daddy and Harry Potter when they went to school. Harry Potter was very pretty… I think I would have liked him. There were also pictures of Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus. I never knew them, but when I was younger Mummy told me about them. She said they died too, and I silently hoped they were with Harry Potter, so he wouldn't be lonely.

Harry Potter seemed like such a nice person, from what Mr. Malfoy told me…

I only found one picture of Harry Potter and Mr. Malfoy together. They were hugging with they lips pressed against each other's – kissing. I wondered when was the last time I saw Mummy and Daddy kiss.

I spent the whole day looking at the moving pictures in the album, making up stories for them, until Mummy came in and found me.

She took my album and told me I shouldn't look at those pictures; they were not for me. She gave me another book and said I could read that instead.

I didn't like that book. It was about a bear called Pooh that loved hunny. I didn't want that book. I wanted the book with pictures of my mummy, my daddy, Harry Potter and Mr. Malfoy. I wanted to see them smiling and happy in the photos.

The Book of Pooh is on the floor in the corner of my room.

I stare at it, like Daddy stares at the wall: with blank eyes that don't really see. I hug my knees to my chest and feel my eyes start to sting and my chest start to hurt.

Can't… breath very good…

I squeeze my eyes shut and listen for Mummy and Daddy.

I don't hear anything.

Mummy… Daddy… Please come and hug me. I miss you…

Nothing.

~~~

Swallowed up in the sound of my screaming

Cannot cease for the fear of silent nights

~~~

I don't sleep anymore. I sit in my bed and wait for Mummy and Daddy to come and find me.

No one comes.

~~~

Oh how I long for the deep sleep dreaming

The goddess of imaginary light

~~~

It's my birthday, I think. Today I'm seven. I miss my Mummy and Daddy, but they still haven't come to find me.

I think today I will go and look for them.

I crawl out of my bed, but it's hard to move. My tummy hurts and keeps grumbling. I hope Mummy made breakfast.

Trying not to stumble, I make my way out to where Mummy and Daddy always sit – on the soft couch in the living room. The fire is out. At first I don't see my mummy or daddy, but when I do, I smile.

My mummy and daddy are curled up on the couch together. Mummy's book is on the floor, and Daddy's not staring. His eyes are closed. So are Mummy's. They're sleeping together.

Feeling my heart swell happily, I tiptoe over to them, and touch Mummy gently on her arm. Her skin is soft but so cold. I think it's because the fire is out, but I don't know how to light it again. Instead I try to move her arm so I can fit between them, but it's hard to budge*.

It's very cold when I curl up against Daddy's back, wrapping my small arms around his stomach. I rest my cheek against him and close my eyes, waiting for them to wake up and love me.

I think tomorrow will be better.

I think tomorrow my mummy will stop crying. I think tomorrow my daddy will stop staring.

I think tomorrow they will love me again.

I fall asleep and dream of Mummy and Daddy, Harry Potter and Mr. Malfoy as children, laughing and playing together in a field of paper flowers.

~~~

In my field of paper flowers

And candy clouds of lullaby

I lie inside myself for hours

And watch my purple sky fly over me

~~~

The End

There, it's over. All the angst is free. Please REVIEW and give me your opinion; I know this is very different from my other story (which I'm not sure if I'll every finish… good reviews may help pursuade me…). And yes, it's pretty obvious who the little girl's parents are: Ron and Hermione. Sorry if that was so sad for some people… It made me cry while writing it, but then I'm just a big crybaby anyway, so I don't know if it counts.

* I'm not exactly sure what happens when a person dies; how long it is before they start to stiffen, but the time frame here is only a few hours since their death, if that's any help.