╭────── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ──────╮
𝐃
No one was there when I reached Platform 9 ¾. It used to be the bare minimum for Father and an absolute necessity for Mother but times were hard, so no one came to collect me.
The night had long fallen, when I reached the Manor. I had left it with thick layers of surveillance but there was no one outside anymore. The strings Mother had to pull were immense but we had come a long way since August.
Way back when, it would have been dinner time by now. I guess Mother was trying not to change many things because I could see the light of candles trembling behind the five tall, arched windows that showed to the dining room. I could see one, two, at least three shadows dancing in the room. We had visitors and I could bet who it was.
I paced across the garden, now slowly. I lit a cigarette. I enjoyed it, puff after puff. The garden was abandoned, uncared for. We used to have five gardeners and Mother did much of the work herself but maybe she didn't find there was a reason for that anymore. No one to impress. I imagine she wasn't in the mood for it anyway.
I reached the front door and put the cig out on some dry and dirty marble jardinière, one that used to contain white roses. I flicked my coat and entered.
Not much had changed, as always. Even before he was put into Azkaban, Dad used to return to his office straight after our return from the King's Cross Station and worked late into the night leaving me and Mother to catch up in the echoing silence of absence. So yes, the Manor was more or less silent and, as it turned out, not much had changed.
I entered. Mother always had the special ability to watch out for the comings and goings in and out of the house, so it wasn't long before I closed the entrance behind me that I heard the dining-room door slide open with a creak and a squeak. Heels clacked on the floor.
"They are inside right at this moment," said Mother out of breath before anything else but she was walking very quickly to close me in a quick embrace. Now I had some time to study her face; she might have lost some sleep last night. Her lips were red, however. "How are you?"
"Headache," I answered. "And you?"
She sighed lightly and pressed her red lips in a smile.
"No time to catch up now. I'm going back inside. Wait until he calls you."
I paced back and forth soundlessly, playing with the satin on the inside of my blazer and then moved on to the button. I think I tugged on the thread a bit too harshly at some point because the next time I looked down at it, it was hanging loose.
The nearby window was slightly hidden behind closed drapes and they were heavy to open, somewhat dusty. Behind the glass, nature was becoming thick with wind. It must have rained recently because the water had frozen on the stoned path of the backyard. It would be a sight Ophelia would like and even the thought made the night gloomier than it was.
"Look who's back!"
I never heard Bella appear from the stairs, all dressed in black, her corset tight around her waist and her laced gloves over her elbows.
"Bella," I said.
During her time in Azkaban and due to reasons I dared not ask, her nose had been broken and crooked. It was something barely noticeable if you weren't paying enough attention. It seemed, however, that during the time I was away, Bellatrix had found a way to repair it, and now that it was straight again, she had returned to the distinctively thin noses of the Black family.
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𝑆𝐴𝑉𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐷𝑅𝐴𝐶𝑂 𝑀𝐴𝐿𝐹𝑂𝑌
Fanfic𝑖 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑤𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑡