Caged 13

Disclaimer: Duh! They're not mine.

A.N.- Thank you, thank you, thank you! To ALL my reviewers. You guys kept me writing even though I'm the laziest person on the face of the Earth.

This is the end of Caged and it is, of course, dedicated to SnapeJuice, who kept good-naturedly threatening to tickle me with a cattle prod if I didn't keep writing. j/k

I've written a one shot sequel of sorts but I only sent it to SnapeJuice and then smartly erased it from my PC, so, if you want it you'll have to pray that she will send it to me.

*

Dawn breaks in misty greyness upon the manor. Beams of light attempt to pierce the thick humidity of the morning but are deterred halfway through.

Sharp greens shine momentarily against the most subdued ones. Peonies, narcissus, roses. All bow with the heavy weight of dew. All perfectly aligned in a splendour of tasteful colours.

The light moves slowly in the pregnant early morning air, not daring to enter the most obscure recesses of the property but instead choosing to alight the gothic manor.

Despite the early hour I've been standing here for quite awhile. The blue room. My favourite spot in the manor. My only request, though he made it clear that I deserved none.

The war was over by the time I was put in the dungeon but only now that I've left does the notion seem to sink in.

 The Dark Lord is busy trying to conquer the Americas, now that Europe is all his.

My husband, never having been a Death Eater, does not have to follow him.

My husband, for always being in amicable relations with the Death Eaters, is left in peace with his "family."

Both sides lost so many people. I seem to have lost them all.

Pure bloods became scarce too, for the time being, anyway, so I was, as he said, a logical choice, what with being impregnated with his child and all.

So here I stand, the ocean having swept its truths over me. I'm washed down, chilled to the bone with knowledge and the happy desperation of not caring and realising that I should.

And each night it seems like a magical frontier that brings us together. An infinity of sounds and silences passing between us. Exchanged looks where all remains to be said.

Today I know him like you know someone who cries the same tears as you.

The vague melody of a child's music box. The blue room.

Blue all around me. The sky in the ceiling and the tides on the floor. A waiting crib in the middle and blue all around even though it's going to be a girl.

Still I struggle, a rebel wave in an ocean of deceit and plain truthfulness I was willing to ignore.

He's looking at me but not looking at me at all. He's looking through me. Searching for something else.

Like the possibility that we were alike in any way. That there was some common ground. That there was something in me that drove Harry to love me and maybe, just maybe, he could possess it too.

Truths just bellow the surface, though at the time they seemed hidden in the ocean's deepest abysses.

I lay a gentle hand over my rounded belly. A tired gesture. Morgana. A fine wizzarding name. I chose it more because of it's sea-related meaning but you agreed immediately. Because it's easier to give up on the small matters when you've killed off the important ones.

He is studying me. Trying to find something.

Like, what exactly made ginger, freckled, brown-eyed old me worthy of Harry Potter's love.

At least morning has broken. It's hard to hold back the tears when night comes.

I fell asleep without him by my side. A soulless body. All wounded pride.

But he goes on. Always far from my world. Always far from me. He denies it. That I'm acting insane. That he can take Morgana from me soon.

But I know he won't. I may have sold reason but not feelings.

Honey-coloured light comes from our bedroom just next door from the blue room. I ignore it and look at the morning's sky instead, with its piercing blueness and its paper clouds.

"It's impossible."

That he could continue to love Harry through me. Because I am the closest he's been to him, apart from the time he killed him. And therefore I'm his love's substitute. But in the moment he holds me in his arms I don't care. It's such a feeling! Like holding a shooting star your prisoner. An egotistical delight. A miracle between flames of passion.

Disbelieving. Surprised. Disgusted.

That he could transfer his desire to me as long…

As long as he pretended.

Secrets from the bottom of the ocean that I refuse to see. Lost ships. All of us.

Mermaids wink at me from the walls of the blue room. I open the window and a light breeze plays with the crystal blue mobile.

"Well, well, it seems little Weasley is not as good as I thought."

Hope in his eyes.

That he was somehow like me. That Harry could love, want , need someone like him. Someone "not good."

The night uncovers the pain that covers pleasure. Shadows of moonlight on my fallen angel. Draco.

But there's no day without night and no night without an end.

You stupid girl! I swear I'll never understand!

How could the Boy Who Lived have been with me.

"Where's Potter?"

"Maybe he's dead."

He looks at me.

Eyes wide.

With the terror of Harry's death. How can the one who loves go on when the object of their love ceases to exist?

"Do you really want to save me?"

And I do. And I tried.

Tears fall.

His.

"I killed him."

And he was so broken. And so was I because he is everything to me. When he hurts, I hurt.

I don't know if I want to be his saviour anymore. I'm the scent of sand dust. I'm the time that's passed.

From what I could gather they fought. Till death.

From I've heard whispered he told him he loved him.

From what was rumoured Harry asked for me. Died for me.

And Draco blames me for it.

Blue light shimmers across the blue room.

The manor. Just another form of cage.

I'm being summoned for breakfast. Where I'll be lady Malfoy.

I leave the blueness behind me. Along with the scent of sand dust.

THE END