Death Eaters Daughter

32

The sky had begun to darken as we sat within the wooden cabin. The only sound that filled the room was the distinct crackling of the fireplace and the gentle turning of pages within the books we held. Mattheo laid across a large black couch, a rather old and battered copy of The Great Gatsby held within his ring-clad hands. The wooden interior of the cabin contrasted perfectly with the array of dark shades across the room, the occasional decorative pillow thrown atop the only other free couch.

A wooden table sat off to the side nearest to one of the large square windows. The kitchen island separating the small dining area from the kitchen. The small kitchen consisted of wooden overhead cupboards, a single silver sink, a fridge and cupboards that lined the underside of the benchtop. Three large overhead lights hung from the lounge room ceiling providing extra light into the already darkening room. The forest outside filling within the soft clicks of bats and the gentle murmuring of owls as the yellowing full moon began to rise-the sky quickly turning from the light pastel pinks and purples to the soft grey-black of the night.

The copy of From Blood and Ash sat forgotten in my lap, the captivating story of Poppy's destiny nowhere near as satisfying as watching the sunlight fade from the world as darkness takes hold. The transition from daytime to nighttime had always fascinated me. The beauty and peacefulness that came with it bringing clarity to my mind as I sat tucked within the window seat. The full moon that rose from the horizon was a sight for sore eyes, the gentle rays of moonlight creeping past the green canopy above as it cast shadows across the forest floor.

"Hey, Mattheo." I uttered softly, breaking the silence that had filled the room.

His eyes lifting from the soft-white pages of the book he held. "Yes?"

My thunderous eyes remained locked on the scenery outside the cabin for several seconds more before I turned to face Mattheo. "You've changed," My eyebrows furrowed as I turned back to the window. "Though, if I'm being honest with you. I was never truly convinced that you were 'evil'. I think you're so caught up in trying to cover your back while you seek revenge for your mother, that you forget who you truly are."

Mattheo's eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as he spoke. "I killed you and tortured you, wha-"

"You told me yourself that it was all an act, that you got caught up in the bad guy facade. I don't entirely believe that nor do I fully believe that you're a bad person. Extremely misguided by no less good than you are bad." I say, cutting him off before he could argue any further.

Mattheo scoffed as he ran his fingers through his hair, The Great Gatsby left to rest upon his stomach. "Wouldn't anyone want to kill someone that murdered your mother after you'd been dumped on your distant relative's doorstep? Your hopes to see her again crushed to smithereens when your aunt walks into the room with tears running down her face, the news she brings with her condemning you to a life without your mother."

I nodded my head slowly as I turned back to face him, the mutual understanding and pain of losing one's mother flitting between the two of us. "Who was she? The woman your mother left you with."

A sigh left his mouth as he moved the book off of his stomach and onto the wooden table beside the couch. "She was my mother's younger sister."

"You know, I've never asked but what was your mother's name?" I queried, hesitantly.

"Aaliyah Parkinson and before you ask, my aunt's name is Pansy," He paused as though remembering something she'd told him. "My aunt and your father used to date at one point. She used to be quite infatuated with him-the Slytherin prince."

"The Slytherin prince?"

Mattheo nodded his head as he began to speak. "Your father used to be known as Hogwarts Slytherin prince, though I'm not sure he's quite lost his standing as the prince to Slytherin just yet."