Chapter 6: Lamentations
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The rich, beautiful colors of autumn outside were reflected magnificently in her painting. She made gentle brushstrokes of the leaves and clouds. It was a perfect replica of the scene beyond the window. She placed her brush in the cup of water beside her when she heard the distinct clicking of his shoes down the corridor. He was fastening together his cuff links and she waited calmly for him to address her.
"I will be off on a business trip for three days. My parents are out as well and I should hope that you can manage by yourself." he said while readjusting one of the links.
"You need not even worry about me." she replied.
"Excellent." he said, not a trace of praise or happiness evident in his voice.
He checked his watch and walked to the door, his things already being loaded into the carriage awaiting him. His coat was placed over him and he departed, leaving her alone.
She closed her eyes, her bottom lip trembling, and felt the warm tears burn in her eyes.
The door was left unlocked and she opened it carefully, hesitant of what was inside. He was gone, but she had never been allowed in the room without his presence. It smelled faintly of spirits and pine leaves. She walked into his study and examined every minute detail of all its contents. There were books, some new, others not.
Coming up to his desk, she touched a few of the items placed upon it. Pulling out the leather chair, she sat down and imagined being Mr. Malfoy. She opened his drawers, finding only papers and old documents, then closed them. This was incorrect, and she almost stood up to leave. Almost…
She opened a square velvet box hidden beneath piles of notes and writings. Inside, a small key glowed softly. She picked up the key and held on her palm. She was wrapped in cocoon of light and she felt herself lifted from the chair.
The room was filled with peaceful sunlight. Dust moats were floating in the brightness. She was no longer in his study, but a new room completely. The walls were decorated with silver and green articles of clothing, old pictures, and a black broomstick with silver hardware was perched upon a wall mount. There was a low, oak bookshelf that was full of old textbooks and photo albums. Hogwarts, A History... Advanced Potions… Yule Ball… Quidditch…
In front of the window there was a small desk. She placed the key down. There were no drawers and it had only a frame and box resting on it. The frame contained a moving picture of Mr. Malfoy as a youth, still charming, and blonde girl who seemed to be naturally adept at smiling. She removed the back and written on the photo, in his elegant script, were a few words.
Last day of school, Hogwarts, 7th year.
She replaced the backing and set the frame down in its place. The box was well worn and contained a silver and green scarf, a ring, and a folded note. Unraveling the scarf, she smelled a pleasing blend of lilac and honey. She tossed it aside. The ring was small and made of silver with a lovely emerald set in the middle… Nothing at all like her wedding band. She placed the ring down gently and began to unfold the note. The writing was curvy and flowed neatly across the parchment.
I will always love you, no matter what happens tomorrow.
A.
A small tear trickled down her cheek and she put away all of the box's contents. She was ready to leave here. She picked up the golden key and squeezed it in her fist. The dark, cold atmosphere of his study was once again around her. She tucked the key away in its box and hid it underneath the papers, closing the door softly behind her.
She sat down in her seat on the right end of the dining table and asked that a bottle of scotch be brought to her. She served herself a modest amount and sipped leisurely, enjoying the flavor. She thought of the man she had married… He did not even love her… She had given away so much for the Malfoy name... It's prestige… notoriety… The life she was condemned to live and the standard she was to uphold. She poured another glass, this time filling it to the brim. She thought of the blonde youth in the photo. The life she used to live. She had tried so long to convince herself she actually loved him too… She served herself another glass… and another, and another, and another, until she had drowned all her sorrows into one bottle.