Warning-----------------This story contains slash ---- that is homosexual
relationships. The author takes no responsibility for offence taken. YOU
HAVE BEEN WARNED.
Disclaimer----------------all characters (except for Morgaine) belong to the goddess J.K.Rowling. This is a non-profit work of fanfiction purely written for the purposes enjoyment.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
thanks to all reviewers!
as suggested, I have re-read the previous chapters and fixed the errors (as many as I could find, anyway)
as for the Prefect's having their own room, thanks for pointing out my mistake *Tomherns*. Obviously I won't be changing it now, but my apologies for the error. If that was in OotP, I haven't read it yet, so yeah. Sorry about that!
*rissa* --- I know, pretty predictable eh? :D as long as you are still enjoying it...
thank you's to all -- i love knowing somebody is actually reading it.
NB. Part Two is set eight or nine months after Part One.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
come and rescue me
in the water deep
careful now, don't lose your end
the road ahead is clear again
though i haven't found it yet...
- powderfinger
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
The days grow shorter and darker as summer moves into autumn. I watch leaves brown and detach from their branches to join the rotting mass of foliage coating the dirt. I hate this season. It creeps across the ground stealthily, leaving carcasses of nature in its wake. It consumes life, and I feel like a skeleton before it.
I lean against the chill glass and watch the men lower her into the ground. The shining coffin disappears slowly under shoveled dirt and becomes a part of the earth, forgotten with every weed that will shoot through the surface above it. When they move away, they leave a small cross marking the burial site. It is of clean, unmarked wood, anonymous and obscure. This is as close as I will get to a farewell, for now at least.
My mother took many months to die. It was more like watching somebody gradually fade into their surroundings. Her face thinned and lengthened, her skin became a permanent soggy white as if after a long bath. After a time, she no longer attended meals, and greeted me as Lucius from her bed. As her mind grew increasingly confused, her body decayed like a fallen leaf.
She had not been moved from her bed when I was summoned. With the quilts pulled back, her body was tiny and shriveled with illness, looking so much older than she was. I could not even move close to the corpse. I could not kiss that...thing...goodbye.
Now it is too late; she already lies among the worms and beetles and mildew.
My chest tightens unexpectedly, but I swallow it down. I can increasingly feel my own weakness threatening to break free, a loss of control over my own exhausted body. I wrap my emotions tightly in a growing knot, suppressed only by my own detachment. I cannot be anything else if I hope to remain unaffected, uncontaminated by my surroundings.
My life moves slowly now, but I continue to tread the thin rope between here and the dirt below. I cling onto the thought that one day I will not be in Malfoy Manor but somewhere far away from my father and his dark cults. This hope holds my own demons at bay for a time, at least.
I have not contacted Harry. I would risk more than my own life by doing so. I hold him in the place inside my mind yet untainted by blood and hatred. It is a closed box I do not visit for fear of losing its contents. It is enough to know the memory is there.
Life stretches in front of me in grey, monotonous months. I've no idea how long I will be dragged through this situation. This could be a small mercy -- maybe I would not like the answer.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
That night I dream through the heavy, dark hours.
I am watching a narrow and smooth train speed through black cloud along invisible tracks. Just as I wonder where an empty train would be going, a thousand pale faces appear at the windows. They bang their fists against the glass and tug at their long blonde hair, all the while screaming silently, mouths open like fish. Their heads turn in unison as if pulled by strings, and I follow their gaze to the front of the train. Standing solitary in the darkness is a small, familiar figure, glasses flashing in the train's headlights.
"Harry!" I scream to him, and his head turns slowly towards me.
Suddenly, he has disappeared and I am the one standing in front of the train. I try to lift my legs, but my body is gripped with inertia, and the headlights are getting brighter. I wonder that I cannot hear the wheels grind against the track or the whistle tear through the air. The train is silent and sleek as it bears down on me.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
I wake gasping for air. It is like fighting my way to the surface of a deep, cold lake. My pillow is damp and my eyes are streaming. My mother's screaming face stains my mind.
Disclaimer----------------all characters (except for Morgaine) belong to the goddess J.K.Rowling. This is a non-profit work of fanfiction purely written for the purposes enjoyment.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
thanks to all reviewers!
as suggested, I have re-read the previous chapters and fixed the errors (as many as I could find, anyway)
as for the Prefect's having their own room, thanks for pointing out my mistake *Tomherns*. Obviously I won't be changing it now, but my apologies for the error. If that was in OotP, I haven't read it yet, so yeah. Sorry about that!
*rissa* --- I know, pretty predictable eh? :D as long as you are still enjoying it...
thank you's to all -- i love knowing somebody is actually reading it.
NB. Part Two is set eight or nine months after Part One.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
come and rescue me
in the water deep
careful now, don't lose your end
the road ahead is clear again
though i haven't found it yet...
- powderfinger
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
The days grow shorter and darker as summer moves into autumn. I watch leaves brown and detach from their branches to join the rotting mass of foliage coating the dirt. I hate this season. It creeps across the ground stealthily, leaving carcasses of nature in its wake. It consumes life, and I feel like a skeleton before it.
I lean against the chill glass and watch the men lower her into the ground. The shining coffin disappears slowly under shoveled dirt and becomes a part of the earth, forgotten with every weed that will shoot through the surface above it. When they move away, they leave a small cross marking the burial site. It is of clean, unmarked wood, anonymous and obscure. This is as close as I will get to a farewell, for now at least.
My mother took many months to die. It was more like watching somebody gradually fade into their surroundings. Her face thinned and lengthened, her skin became a permanent soggy white as if after a long bath. After a time, she no longer attended meals, and greeted me as Lucius from her bed. As her mind grew increasingly confused, her body decayed like a fallen leaf.
She had not been moved from her bed when I was summoned. With the quilts pulled back, her body was tiny and shriveled with illness, looking so much older than she was. I could not even move close to the corpse. I could not kiss that...thing...goodbye.
Now it is too late; she already lies among the worms and beetles and mildew.
My chest tightens unexpectedly, but I swallow it down. I can increasingly feel my own weakness threatening to break free, a loss of control over my own exhausted body. I wrap my emotions tightly in a growing knot, suppressed only by my own detachment. I cannot be anything else if I hope to remain unaffected, uncontaminated by my surroundings.
My life moves slowly now, but I continue to tread the thin rope between here and the dirt below. I cling onto the thought that one day I will not be in Malfoy Manor but somewhere far away from my father and his dark cults. This hope holds my own demons at bay for a time, at least.
I have not contacted Harry. I would risk more than my own life by doing so. I hold him in the place inside my mind yet untainted by blood and hatred. It is a closed box I do not visit for fear of losing its contents. It is enough to know the memory is there.
Life stretches in front of me in grey, monotonous months. I've no idea how long I will be dragged through this situation. This could be a small mercy -- maybe I would not like the answer.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
That night I dream through the heavy, dark hours.
I am watching a narrow and smooth train speed through black cloud along invisible tracks. Just as I wonder where an empty train would be going, a thousand pale faces appear at the windows. They bang their fists against the glass and tug at their long blonde hair, all the while screaming silently, mouths open like fish. Their heads turn in unison as if pulled by strings, and I follow their gaze to the front of the train. Standing solitary in the darkness is a small, familiar figure, glasses flashing in the train's headlights.
"Harry!" I scream to him, and his head turns slowly towards me.
Suddenly, he has disappeared and I am the one standing in front of the train. I try to lift my legs, but my body is gripped with inertia, and the headlights are getting brighter. I wonder that I cannot hear the wheels grind against the track or the whistle tear through the air. The train is silent and sleek as it bears down on me.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
I wake gasping for air. It is like fighting my way to the surface of a deep, cold lake. My pillow is damp and my eyes are streaming. My mother's screaming face stains my mind.