Dinner was an unusual affair at the Malfoy house, she decided. The Manor
was far too quiet, and when Narcissa had waken her sharply from a dream she
had been quite passionate at continuing---a dream full of lovely daisies
and roses as she pondered the garden, plucking her finger at each flower,
and letting the petals dry, until her skin turned green and a flash of
light, then suddenly gone as she woke, her shawl wrapped around her throat.
That was strange, she thought. She did not remember having to wrap it
around her again, and the way Narcissa poised over her, a pale,
expressionless emotion upon her face seemed almost deadening, sickening in
it's own, complicated way. "Dinner is ready downstairs," Narcissa spoke, in
her usual, demoaring voice. Yes, yes, Narcissa, Ginny said, as usual, as
usual as an obedient little girl who had been offered pretty colors of the
rainbow. Narcissa was wearing something completely different tonight---
glittering jewels from left to right dangling from her wrists---this
surprised Ginny in the most obscene ways--after all, after Lucius had died,
the only thing left in their posession had been the manor, and nothing
more. So how did she still have few furnitures left, how did she have the
jewels still locked away and to put on again? Ginny did not know and
followed Narcissa downstairs, walking in tiny steps of her own, each step
worth a heartbeat or an ounce of a second passing by.
She was annoyed by every single thing as she passed by. She hated the feeling of the manor, the feeling of unwelcoming presence that was merely here. Her fingers locked within the stairway rail as she walked, fighting to keep her dress intact. After she had escaped through the burden of that awful, continiously-shutting window, she had dressed herself, knowing Narcissa would not like it if she did not wear the fresh clothes that had been provided for her beneath the bed. It was a small dress, wrinkled and green, made of fabric that swept around her body like a warm, tightening embrace. In fact, the heels Narcissa had picked out did not suite her very well---at every heel there seemed to be a black suicide of each toe, and the dress seemed to be entangling her further, and the bows, she realized in horror as she caught a glimpse of shadow and reflection at one of the paintings, made her look like the young, virgin girl with pigtails when she was seven. It disgusted her far too deeply, insulted her experiances and her pain. She did not dare look at Malfoy as she entered the large, dining hall and sat down at the end of the table, about forty seats across from Malfoy. Narcissa sat herself down strictly between the middle, and began to eat without a word.
Malfoy was wearing fancy clothing---black pants, white shirt with a collar, strings of white dripping around his neck. She caught the glare he gave her within every bite he took, chomping at his teeth. Ginny did not know what to do or what to say--there was no food at her plate, and the food at their plates did not look remotely appetizing at the least---in fact, it looked yellow and unedible.
"Narcissa?" Ginny spoke softly. "I haven't any food on my plate."
Narcissa gazed at her curiously. "Did you expect any, silly girl?"
Her tone was different--somewhat suspicious and innocent. Narcissa looked like a young girl---as if she was telling Ginny something with her fingers, but she was not getting the wave goodbye, even though it settled in moving fingertips.
"Yes," Ginny responded. Why was this bloody dress so hard to be comfortable in? The more she breathed, it seemed to be growing tighter and tighter.
Narcissa merely looked at her. "You can go up to bed now, Virginia."
Ginny did not understand this arrangement at all, but she did not want to have to look at Draco's eyes trailing at her face up and down as she almost ran upstairs, untying the straps of her dress as she entered her room, sweaty, mussed and uncomfortable. The dress peeled off slowly like leather, and it went down to her knees, and her body pressed against the door as she crawled down. Mum never starved me. She gave fourth helpings of everything. Absolutely everything.
At times like these she hated speaking to herself like this. But it was just a time she could not inhale anymore. The stress was overwhelming, and something was needed to be done about it, frantically. She did not understand why they wanted to starve her, she did not understand why she was here, and she did not understand why she did not kill herself already and be done with it with a flutter of one's wand.
She stuck her finger down her throat for release, until it tickled her throat viciously, and the yanking noises of near-vomiting reached her until she repeated the process---vomit flowing, one by one onto the white-tiled floor. An ache spread throughout her head as she finished, her throat dry and feeling as if it had been blocked with rock and steel---that was strange, wasn't it, how she hadn't eaten since yesterday, and yet, there was so much on the floor to look at. She waited for the vomit to melt away, and her stress to slowly fade from it's release.
It did no such thing. Ginny could not take opening her eyes anymore. With a leap, she collapsed onto her bed, throwing the covers over her head, her repulsing smell of vomit lingering in her breath as she fanned her pillow with it, hoping to dream, this time, of lillies.
***
She did not at all dream of the wonder that were lillies but the wonder that was Draco. She dreamed he was beside her bed, watching her with eyes that wandered while she slept and turned over. She dreamed he reached out and unbuttoned her dress from behind as she was on her back---but it was only in the middle of the dream that she realized she had awaken with a start, and her dress falling at the edge of her stomach, with a pale, white hand drumming it's fingers at her pillow.
***
[Author's Note: I haven't written one of these notes in ages! I guess I've been loosening myself out of them. Yes, this hasn't been beta-readed or spellchecked. If anyone is interested in beta-reading, make sure you're qualified, I beg of you;P! I am very, very sorry for the late update, and those who read my other fics: no, I haven't given up on them, I just haven't updated as much because this year is a busy one and I don't write fanfiction as I used to. There, I said it. But, this year, I need to graduate, and it...yes, yes...that's right. Will contain. "Thinking". *Shudder*. Do not ever say that word to me! Horrible, horrible word. Stupid word. Anyways. I understand if you find it confusing, but of course, everything always rolls out in the end...doesn't it? :D. Ew. I sound like an adult. EW. EW EW EW. If I sound like that again, smack the hell outta me and feel free to eat my nose, I hate it. Thanks and loves to all reviewers!]
~Courtney S.A.
She was annoyed by every single thing as she passed by. She hated the feeling of the manor, the feeling of unwelcoming presence that was merely here. Her fingers locked within the stairway rail as she walked, fighting to keep her dress intact. After she had escaped through the burden of that awful, continiously-shutting window, she had dressed herself, knowing Narcissa would not like it if she did not wear the fresh clothes that had been provided for her beneath the bed. It was a small dress, wrinkled and green, made of fabric that swept around her body like a warm, tightening embrace. In fact, the heels Narcissa had picked out did not suite her very well---at every heel there seemed to be a black suicide of each toe, and the dress seemed to be entangling her further, and the bows, she realized in horror as she caught a glimpse of shadow and reflection at one of the paintings, made her look like the young, virgin girl with pigtails when she was seven. It disgusted her far too deeply, insulted her experiances and her pain. She did not dare look at Malfoy as she entered the large, dining hall and sat down at the end of the table, about forty seats across from Malfoy. Narcissa sat herself down strictly between the middle, and began to eat without a word.
Malfoy was wearing fancy clothing---black pants, white shirt with a collar, strings of white dripping around his neck. She caught the glare he gave her within every bite he took, chomping at his teeth. Ginny did not know what to do or what to say--there was no food at her plate, and the food at their plates did not look remotely appetizing at the least---in fact, it looked yellow and unedible.
"Narcissa?" Ginny spoke softly. "I haven't any food on my plate."
Narcissa gazed at her curiously. "Did you expect any, silly girl?"
Her tone was different--somewhat suspicious and innocent. Narcissa looked like a young girl---as if she was telling Ginny something with her fingers, but she was not getting the wave goodbye, even though it settled in moving fingertips.
"Yes," Ginny responded. Why was this bloody dress so hard to be comfortable in? The more she breathed, it seemed to be growing tighter and tighter.
Narcissa merely looked at her. "You can go up to bed now, Virginia."
Ginny did not understand this arrangement at all, but she did not want to have to look at Draco's eyes trailing at her face up and down as she almost ran upstairs, untying the straps of her dress as she entered her room, sweaty, mussed and uncomfortable. The dress peeled off slowly like leather, and it went down to her knees, and her body pressed against the door as she crawled down. Mum never starved me. She gave fourth helpings of everything. Absolutely everything.
At times like these she hated speaking to herself like this. But it was just a time she could not inhale anymore. The stress was overwhelming, and something was needed to be done about it, frantically. She did not understand why they wanted to starve her, she did not understand why she was here, and she did not understand why she did not kill herself already and be done with it with a flutter of one's wand.
She stuck her finger down her throat for release, until it tickled her throat viciously, and the yanking noises of near-vomiting reached her until she repeated the process---vomit flowing, one by one onto the white-tiled floor. An ache spread throughout her head as she finished, her throat dry and feeling as if it had been blocked with rock and steel---that was strange, wasn't it, how she hadn't eaten since yesterday, and yet, there was so much on the floor to look at. She waited for the vomit to melt away, and her stress to slowly fade from it's release.
It did no such thing. Ginny could not take opening her eyes anymore. With a leap, she collapsed onto her bed, throwing the covers over her head, her repulsing smell of vomit lingering in her breath as she fanned her pillow with it, hoping to dream, this time, of lillies.
***
She did not at all dream of the wonder that were lillies but the wonder that was Draco. She dreamed he was beside her bed, watching her with eyes that wandered while she slept and turned over. She dreamed he reached out and unbuttoned her dress from behind as she was on her back---but it was only in the middle of the dream that she realized she had awaken with a start, and her dress falling at the edge of her stomach, with a pale, white hand drumming it's fingers at her pillow.
***
[Author's Note: I haven't written one of these notes in ages! I guess I've been loosening myself out of them. Yes, this hasn't been beta-readed or spellchecked. If anyone is interested in beta-reading, make sure you're qualified, I beg of you;P! I am very, very sorry for the late update, and those who read my other fics: no, I haven't given up on them, I just haven't updated as much because this year is a busy one and I don't write fanfiction as I used to. There, I said it. But, this year, I need to graduate, and it...yes, yes...that's right. Will contain. "Thinking". *Shudder*. Do not ever say that word to me! Horrible, horrible word. Stupid word. Anyways. I understand if you find it confusing, but of course, everything always rolls out in the end...doesn't it? :D. Ew. I sound like an adult. EW. EW EW EW. If I sound like that again, smack the hell outta me and feel free to eat my nose, I hate it. Thanks and loves to all reviewers!]
~Courtney S.A.
