Familiarity

A Harry Potter story by Jessica Nicole



She loses eye contact
when I ask her what she's found.
I want to pluck the fruit
from my body.
  - from What I Told the Ceiling, by Kelli Russell Agodon

 

Faint eyelashes grace my pale cheeks as my eyelids fall with the disappearance of my conscious. The dry sobs that had wreaked havoc inside me were swallowed by my surroundings' cold and led to a calm that finally allowed me to breathe.

Just as my dark thoughts tucked themselves away for a long awaited rest, the echoing sounds of nearing footsteps scattered their pathway. Helplessly, I lifted my hands to soothe my ravaged mind, only succeeding in brushing passed my ragged platinum locks.

"Malfoy."

The name was indeed so very familiar, as it did belong to myself. Still, I did not bid the intruder a glance.

"Malfoy."

Ever so persistent, they seemed. You would think they were glad for my presence.

"Malfoy."

Bruised skin brushing against the damp stone behind me, I finally turned to find who had called my name. My eyes lifting in the dim light of a suspended star, I had only needed to see the noxious strands of red hair to know...

"Weasley."

"You are alive, then." The shadowy figure stepped forward as the quick syllables flitted into the heavy air, the silhouette of a female making itself visible.

"Disappointed?" I asked, beckoning for a laugh but only able to grasp at the wisps of a cry.

The woman stepped yet nearer and now my very being pleaded for a laugh at the frayed apron about her thick waist. The very best I was allowed was the will to reach forward.

Freckled hands enclosed around my lifeless grip and I almost remembered the tenderness of the outside world. The fervor I had stole away from for... This.

"Molly."

A timid smile sat at the corners of her lips, only visible in the precious moments before the waltzing black cloaks behind her fed upon it.

"Lucius."

As she faltered on the next unforgivable words, her search for my hidden guise was born on her penetrating eyes. "My family..."

Unable to shed a shiver, I turned my face from her and reopened my ears to the neighboring screams of my fellow prisoners.

"My Lord..."

"God, save me..."

My own vocal cords tore over her footsteps, my last given memory.


 

 

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