Rain bled from the bruised and humid sky, trailing moist rivers down her bare, clammy arms. The inky tresses that fell lank over her face, dripped from it. Oblivious to the wetness that splashed upon her skin, Melody Hope wandered, lost in bitter thoughts, supposing that she really deserved all the hell she went through. Malevolent memories drifted past her emotionless pools of dull sapphire. Her eyes were haunted and clouded, washed in her memories murk.
Over and over the doorbell's maddening toll echoed through her mind. Again and again she replayed the scene: lightning cracked the sky, just like a teen horror movie, illuminating the grossly blank white mask that awaited her inadvertent invitation. She had opened the door to death.
He had her before she had a chance to scream. Marble-cold hands that had seared her body and had left behind an eerie wintry resonance, tortured her still. Despite the horrific rape she had suffered, she would endure it time and time again if only she could have Caleb back. Watching a body she had practically worshipped as it was torn, watching his scarlet blood as it was flung to splatter against the walls, had killed her soul in a way nothing else could.
A shuddering gasp escaped her badly parched lips. The cold cruelty of it all wrapped its deathlike blanket of sorrow around her quivering shoulders. There she stood, hunched over and weeping. The sight captured Severus's cutting gaze. Scowling he stared, transfixed by her gothic beauty. She was like broken porcelain, so pale and beautiful, but cracked and unfixable. She shed wicked tears, just as she bled wicked blood. Sinful was her conception, and evil was her nature. Severus could see it radiate in her. Every tremble of her body unleashed more and more seething aura. Yet Severus knew why they needed her, she was powerful, powerful beyond any comprehension. This daughter of Satan could be molded and used against her very own creator. Standing toward the back of the small assembly Severus Snape awaited the opportunity to bring the young girl her joyous news: she was to be taken to Hogwarts school, and remain under the care of himself. As of yet she hadn't the faintest idea.
Heavily Melody wept, until her attention was drawn to the casket being lifted leisurely by the pallbearers and carelessly lowered it into a disturbing, forbidding hole. She didn't want to watch, knowing that it would only mean he was really lost, and that she might never be able to find him again. Nevertheless, that mere box, no matter how unworthy, held her Caleb. She had watched him die and she would watch him disappear.
Despite her desperate efforts, the pain kept resurfacing. No matter how deep she stuffed it, it would pour out, washing over her numb heart, warming it with the purest pain. Drenched in aguish and utter misery, she waited, still as stone, while the seconds ached past. Unsure of what else to do, she gave into her only refuge left, she prayed.
"Oh dear Jesus, my Father in heaven, God, why are You doing this? Why? Why is he really gone? Help me Jesus, help me, help me, help me. I can't do this…I ask, no, I beg this, in Your holy and precious name. A-Amen."
When she unclasped her folded hands, she repressed the urge to lift her eyes and meet the ones bearing down on her. Caleb's family loathed her. Always had, and she could feel their hateful eyes scorching her. As always, they thought of her as a freak, the witch and something to be feared. They would be only too happy if she were to succumb to the pain and slash her wrist like she had been tempted to do. Let the warm blood pour and pool onto the floor...escape from the pain. It was just too easy.
Conjuring the strength to look up and tear herself away from her brutal contemplations, she silently noted that black and its remarkable scale of colors were the only shades to surround her. The sky, the rain, and the faces all took upon them arrays of the soul sucking hue. Even the delicate breeze, although colorless, felt black and ominous. Allowing the breeze to catch her weak black hair and repressing the desperate need to weep, she gazed toward Caleb's tombstone; the granite was framed with roses of such a deep scarlet, they appeared to be ebony in the shadowy, overcast weather.
As daylight fell away into a remarkably cooler evening, Melody's legs shuddered unsteadily beneath her. Above, the sky was a splash of soft pastels, and the warm whisper of the zephyr carried her past the few remaining attendants. Caleb's mother and sister, although speaking with a priest, found opportunity to set their blistering emerald glare upon her. Not wishing to become the object of their rage and grief she choose to make her departure.
Off to the side, leaning against a towering concrete tombstone, was a remarkably tall, lean man. His face was quite pale; a significant contrast to the sparkling onyx of his eyes and jet black clothing. All in all, his appearance was rather sinister, even for the attendance of a funeral. The man radiated an angry, fuming demeanor. Those full black eyes seemed to move with her, and for the first time since Caleb's death she tasted fear. Although he watched her, he made no other move. Somehow she made it past him and on through the cemetery.
By some means she found the strength inside to run. Not only did she run, she flew, and blindly at that.
Melody raced down a deserted sidewalk, a lone lost soul in a crushingly cruel existence. Far behind her, Severus watched. Her midnight locks had come loose from their ties and trailed behind her, reminding him of a black veil of death. He knew he should follow her and quickly, should Lucius or another Death Eater choose to confront her again. And yet, he hesitated. He had seen her father in her eyes, the bland hate that could be wielded against anyone she choose. Perhaps he didn't have the amount of faith in this young girl the way Albus Dumbledore did, for the old man believed honestly that she could help them in the ongoing war between the Light and Dark. Just maybe she could, if she was willing. Once she became aware of just who her father was, would she turn to him, or fight for what was good in the world?
Shuddering despite his layers of clothing, he set off at a brisk walk to follow her.
Was it possible that there was greater torment then this? If the gates of hell themselves were to open, the earth to crack, and if she were to fall into the wicked flames of a sinful blaze where she would burn forever…would she wither and scream and want this back? An icy shiver caressed Melody's frail body, and despite her burning thoughts of hell, the rain was still a piercing cold. Drops bled like frozen fire down the bare nape of her neck, forming a freezing blanket out of the collar on her black silky dress shirt. Her head was drooped, the front of her body blurred into a humid sea of tears.
It was as if she had cracked when the anguished scream erupted from her mouth, without warning. Every fiber in her body exploded with white rage, blinding her. The livid force flowing between her lips brought her to her knees.
"Where are you Jesus!? Where!? I need you now!" Her tapering fingers dug through the tangled mess of her hair. Maddened by the exploding grief, she was only vaguely aware of what she was saying, what she was doing. After a time, the screaming broke off into loud wracking sobs.
"You were never really here were you? Never. Not one fucking time. This is as good as any hell you could create! You have forsaken me," and her wild, angry sobs lessened, fading away into hiccups and sniffs. With a dead spirit she uttered words she never would imagine herself saying.
"Well, I forsake you too. Damn your wrath."
The crackling of the fire did nothing to soothe Melody's troubled soul. As the flames licked greedily to the heavens, pouring bitter smoke from their midst, the young girl fought a deep inner battle. Fingering the small sterling silver crucifix that fell across her slender neck, she allowed her mind to wander as she tried desperately to ward off the doubt and suspicion that wormed it's evil way into her heart.
Like smoke, her memories drifted. Caleb with his soft blonde hair and those glorious emerald eyes, danced before her. His perfect body and that swift smile that set even more happiness into each gentle crevice of his face. Remembrance was a bitter obsession, but it was all she had left. Nevertheless, these were snapshots of times long past and better forgotten. As well as the beautiful, she was forced to remember the grotesque scenes of death that would surely haunt her forever.
Numbly she pulled at the thin chain around her neck, until she felt the silent release. Clutching the tiny crucifix she stood and walked toward the sizzling orange fire. Without hesitation she tossed the necklace emotionlessly into the blaze. The glint of silver was quickly lost and she turned away, following the memorized path up the winding staircase that had only days before been washed in crimson blood. The iron smell was still thick in her nostrils, although it was only a ghost of a memory.