Liz has always refused to become like her family. Even though the blood of the Black family flows in her veins. Adopted by Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange after the death of her father Regulus - in hopes of "setting her on the right path" , she st...
A side effect of their new Muggle hobbies was that Mattheo had to leave the house regularly. They had thought about going shopping together, but had ultimately decided against it. The risk of Death Eaters watching them was too big. What if one of them saw Liz getting better? That her wounds were healing, that she was eating regularly, and that her clothes were new and clean?
So Mattheo went alone.
The first few times Liz had paced anxiously from room to room. Yes, they had changed the protection spells, had taken the fireplace off the Floo network, but -.
With a pan in her hand, Liz had pushed herself between the wall and the old-fashioned stove and waited. Her fingers had gone numb, so tightly had she pressed the cold metal against them. When Mattheo had found her like this, she had felt very foolish, but what could she do? Bellatrix was capable of anything.
Only slowly had Liz been able to relax a little. She had moved on to actually doing useful things around the house. Dusting, airing the beds. Things that Riddle Junior would actually order her to do to torture her.
She was putting away some books she no longer needed when it caught her eye. The cover didn't match the others. It was old, yes, but it was worn. If she hadn't been looking for the right spot, she might never have noticed it. Smart of Mattheo to hide the notebook right in front of her like that.
Her gaze slid to the wall clock. How long had he been gone? When would he come back?
There was not enough time to ask herself these questions. She had to overcome her fear. Only by getting this "what if" out of the way could she move forward. Her fingers trembled when they finally touched the rough leather.
Nothing.
Heaviness spread through Liz. Her fingers gripped the spine, pulling out the book, but the emptiness remained. Disappointment descended over her like a leaden curtain. What had she been expecting? Sparks? A whole barrage of fireworks?
Exhausted, she slumped down on one of the sofas. With the tip of her fingernail, she pushed open the cover. Blank, wavy paper. Her fingers made a scratching sound as she finally dared to touch the pages. But what she felt was not her magic, but something else. A deep, all-suffocating pain.
"I'm sorry." Mattheo leaned in the doorway. The shopping bags scattered their contents across the floor as his hands searched for the right place. At first he wrapped his arms around himself, but restlessness immediately made him keep searching. Hands in the pockets? No. He hadn't looked that tortured after Liz punched him in the face. "I can't let it go. I..."
Liz stroked the pages again. Now that the cat was out of the bag, a strange calm filled her. "I know," she heard herself say. "I understand."
And she really understood. Everything she had done and endured for just a spark of attention. For just one kind word.
Almost tenderly, Liz brushed the cover as she laid the book beside her. She hadn't even wanted to admit it to herself, but it had dawned on her that night at Hogwarts. After Ginny and Luna had left her alone with Mattheo, a voice had whispered all the possibilities to her. But instead of listening to it, she had chosen to wrap her hand around a madman's cigarette and listen to the hiss of her flesh. The pain was better than admitting that she had felt the urge that night to tell Bellatrix that it had been her. She, Lysandra Black had opened the Chamber of Secrets. Wasn't that worth anything? Wasn't that worth a single, thoughtful glance? The shame of that thought had been so great that part of her had hoped that Mattheo would beat her. That he really was the cruel psychopath everyone thought he was. As if she were doing penance for her feelings.
Only Mattheo was not the fearsome heir of the dark lord. He was just a boy whose family was perhaps even more broken than hers.
Liz reached out her hand to him. "Come here," she breathed, beckoning him closer, like a dog. The comparison was easy, as Mattheo stared at his feet like a beaten puppy. He didn't raise his eyes even when Liz came to a stop right in front of him. "I don't blame you." She stood on her tiptoes, brushed his curls aside and kissed him on the forehead. It was a motherly gesture that nearly made the young man cave in. He pressed the palms of his hands in front of his eyes. Gently, Liz pulled his head down to her, pressing it against her shoulder until he gave in and put his shaky arms around her.
And at that moment, the veil around them lifted. A weight fell from her shoulders. She was sure Mattheo had never shown himself so vulnerable to anyone before, and she knew what she had to do to lift that burden from him as well.
"I forgive you."
A single tear rolled down his cheek as he finally lifted his head and looked at Liz in disbelief. "What?"
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"I forgive you. You can let go of the guilt."
This time, as he pulled her close, he could no longer hide the heart-wrenching sobs.
___________________________
This should have been the rest of the chapter before but oh welp. Life happens and all that.
