Death Eaters Daughter

38

Lay Me Down - Sam Smith and John Legend portrays this even better if you're the type of reader who likes music while reading <3

***

They say there are five stages of grief.

The first two had been easy; comparable to breathing and now as I sat staring out the large arched window of my bedroom. I couldn't feel a thing. The initial shock and hurt had worn off hours ago and now, I was left with this hollow feeling in my chest-this numbness to the world. I simply sat here in front of the window looking across the grassy hill without seeing, the early morning sunlight providing the only semblance of warmth within my cold, numb heart. Archimedes sat beside me upon the armrest of the medium-sized grey couch; the only thing I'd remotely felt inclined to do as I had dragged the couch towards the window.

My dull, grey eyes flitted towards the three shelves that jutted out from the wall above my bed and to the framed pictures that laid face down upon the white-wooded shelves. Both of which I'd laid face down upon entering my room those hours ago, a faint ringing sound echoing within my ears as I had dropped myself onto my mattress and willed sleep to encase me. Grief came in many forms just as coping came with its own. I was the type to shut down-to hide within my room, or any room, while I coped in my way.

Denial had come quicker than I had thought as I turned my head away from the white shelves. Even now as I sat within the plush couch, I had convinced myself that everything had been another cruel dream-another figment of my imagination. Archimedes provided little solace from the swirling within my mind; the turmoil, the denial and the lingering pain that managed to filter through the numbness within my mind. Mattheo, George and my father came and went throughout the day. Each one trying to coax me from the depths of my despair with mindless chit-chat, Mattheo even went as far as to not leave my room at night time.

I'd thought my mother's death had been painful but nothing compared to the loss of Scorpius; the pain, the anguish and the deeply woven guilt that lingered within.

There were moments where even I wasn't sure if it was worth living, worth continuing with my life without my brother; my twin. And yet, every morning I woke and sat within the same chair, in front of the same window, mulling over the same scenarios and coming to the same conclusions that brought tears to my eyes.

Scorpius was gone and not even my deepest wishes would bring him back.

***

I woke to the hushed conversation between Mattheo and my father, though it was clear to me that they thought I wouldn't hear it nor that I would be awake, to begin with. A glance to the window informed me that it was late at night, stars twinkled within the sky as I strained to hear what the two men were saying. My eyebrow quirked as my father's voice raised in annoyance from behind my door, Mattheo's somewhat frantic voice slipping beneath the crack under the door.

"He planted those dreams in her head! Are you truly trying to convince me that he wouldn't try to evade her mind while she's struggling with her brother's death?" Mattheo paused as though taking in my father's silence before he continued speaking. "Because he will. He's desperate for power and he doesn't care how he obtains it, and if that includes slipping into Lysia's mind. He'd do it and she wouldn't even notice, not now."

"She's the prophesied witch! What makes you think that he could get into my daughter's mind so seamlessly?" My father prompted, anger lacing every word.

Mattheo released a drawn out-breath of air as he raked his fingers through his hair, a habit of his that he seemed to have whenever something bothered him. "She's drowning in grief, Draco. Surely you can see that much and while she can be the prophesied witch, it doesn't mean anything if she's not within the right frame of mind."