Soft Hazy Blue ( Ominis Gaunt x MC )

Chapter 24: Hamlet

"Home."

I had yelled into the red embers that were slowly overtaken by flicks of green.

Though it didn't occur to me to honestly wonder, where was my home?

Home had been the small cottage with Ominis, as we grew comfortable into our married life.

Home had been running straight from school and impatiently waiting for his face to appear through the doorway with his hint of grin sending flutters in my stomach.

The home had slowly grown into him.

So, why was it that the home that came to mind, was a hamlet?

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Chirps were carried by the whisps of the wind that blew against a door that barely hung onto its hinges, as it tapped against the doorway stirring me from the darkness that had rendered me unconscious from the drastic travel from floo powder.

I moved my eyes slowly awakening me from my slumber, as my eyelids stayed continued shut, sluggish to return to the present. My brain faltered in response to the rest of my nerves to allow for the sight of the world to return as the red veins behind my lids engulfed my vision. The gentle warmth of the sun radiated upon my face coaxing me to rouse from my slumber and into the reality of the world.

I fluttered my eyes open to a fuzzy hay-covered ceiling above me, to the old worn fireplace that bricks once had been a bright dark maroon now stood proudly with its mud brown overlay, the rough oak table that stood on its 3 legs as the 4th was nowhere to be seen, and the bed that once was used as a gateway to its owners dream now laid in distress as a form of nightmares.

I lifted my hand above my face allowing it to come more into focus, when small drips of red tears cried from their fingertips onto my cheek.

Is that?

The pain came all at once.

I hissed, arching my shoulders and lower back instinctively as a horrid feeling passed through my arm like a serrated knife cutting into my flesh. I twisted my head tentatively towards the sight of the pain hesitating in fear if the wound that I had received was as bad as it felt. Grunting, I sat up with a string of colorful words spilling from my mouth as I lifted my damaged arm with my good one, almost feeling foreign as the agony became so great that not even my brain could register it any longer.

Finally, I glanced down tormented at the damage that Clinton had inflicted upon me. My arm seemed as if it was cut into ribbons, although the length of the cut was not as horrible as it could have been, it was the depth of the injury that had become more concerning. Flakes of dry blood coated my sweater that surrounded the wound as red ink continued to spill from its fountain splitting into smaller trails until it finally dripped rhythmically onto the floor like the sound of my heartbeat that only grew slower as the drips became quicker.

Shit.

I groaned in agony as I reached for my wand that lay buried in the folds of my skirts as my brain sluggishly attempted to dig through the countless healing spells that I had attempted to commit to memory.

"Vulnera Sanentur," I whispered breathlessly gazing at my arm as my skin began stitching itself together.

That's going to leave another scar I mentally sighed as the tender red mark sat upon my skin, replacing the horrible wound that was only there seconds before. I leaned forward onto my knees and used the fireplace as a crutch to stabilize my balance as I rose to my feet, centering my weight to ensure that I wouldn't collapse from the loss of blood I had endured.

What a mess.

Gazing down at the once white linen skirts they were now a grey soot and the cream sweater now laid in rags and loose threads ran rampant over the sleeves, as the frays of wool began to itch and scratch onto my skin, overstimulating my senses until I couldn't bear the feeling no longer.

I transfigured my clothing into a pair of dark heather black pants and a simple forest green button-up shirt that was rolled up to the sleeves as I buckled around my thigh a wand holster in the insurance that I wouldn't leave my wand elsewhere again.

Now where am I, this isn't where I was hoping to land traveling by flames.

I took in the hamlet in whole and felt what was left of my blood only drained as I paled immediately in realization from where I stood.

Gods.

I ran out of the door towards the back, as the familiarity of the routine returned as if I had never gone. My feet crunched underneath the bright green grass that betrayed the true somber feeling that tainted my chest as I knelt in front of the grey slab that became weathered from the years it stood mounted in the ground.

"Hi, mum."

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Cold.

Alone.

Shrouded with the ambiance of hostility.

I wasn't truly aware of what had happened after my confrontation with him, but I was aware that the room had a sense of familiarity. Though one that wasn't something that I would exactly consider welcoming.

"Ominis."

"Father."

"I hope that you annulled that marriage to that muggle-born, not at all worth tainting your blood for the good of the Gaunt's family name."

"I haven't annulled it; I am still married to her, and she has a name." I snarled as my hand instinctively grabbed for my wand, but instead only clenched into fists as the air slipped between my fingers.

A forceful slap reverberated through the hollowness of the room as my face prickled with heat feeling the outline of a hand forming onto my cheek. Clenching my teeth, I turned back to where he stood rubbing my jaw in irritation of one of the more warming greetings I've had since coming home in the past 6 years.

"You will listen," he bunched the front of my shirt into his fist pulling me in closer as the stench of fire whiskey clouded my sense of smell "Your dirty wife is dead, your brother made sure of it," he spat shoving me away with familiarity.

"This was the only thing left from her body, you might want to give it to your actual fiancé," he grunted throwing something light onto the floor as it clattered for what seemed like hours until it finally stilled in silence. Finally, the sound of his footsteps slowly made their way out of the room as the door slammed in great intensity shaking the house in his wake.

"Petunia," I whispered waiting for his steps to disappear further into the heart of the manor before calling her as she usually apparated quickly before the a of her name ever left my lips.

"Petunia is happy that master's son is back, Petunia missed the master's son very much," Petunia grinned as she clasped my hand with endearment and glee between her old, weathered ones.

"Petunia, would you grab the item that Father threw on the ground," I smiled in her direction as she released my hand and trotted where the item lay.

"This was Petunia's master's sister's ring, it is very pretty! But Petunia thought that master's son wanted it back for his wife?" She questioned as she dropped the ring onto the palm of my hand.

No.