Doe (#Wattys2016)

Chapter Forty-Eight

The next day they stayed in bed, feeling worse somehow. They hardly spoke everything that was going on in their heads was weighing on their chest and holding their tongues hostage. They lay together but separately, thinking and feeling. Francis let the tears slid down her cheeks for hours, after awhile forgetting why she was crying but marvelling at how it kept coming, adding up the glasses of water she had had to drink that day and suspiciously thinking of all the water that had left her body. He slept every two hours or so, sometimes he got up, glancing at her and went to the window, once he left the room but he came back quickly. He was distracted in his grief not concentrated like she was, not free. When she closed her eyes, her father came to her dribbling blood over his suit and looking down at his concave chest in surprise. They had even begun to find it funny, his dark eyes twinkling with laughter as he gurgled happily to her and he said such nonsense to her that she had to laugh. Tim too, smiled at their silliness, shaking his head and leaving them to it as he disappeared into the trees of the wood, she could still see him though, the trees working with his dark stripes to make him almost invisible but then he would ruin it and howl, his grey stone pelt glaringly obvious in the foliage. She pointed him out to her father and he shook his head, flecking like dots of blood onto her face and they stared at each other but then burst out laughing.

She woke up smiling in the dead of night and rolled over to Draco, "Why do I keep laughing?"

He was asleep like she was and didn't answer her.

"I shouldn't laugh. It's inappropriate. I'm awful," she said to herself in the dark, but she was so exhausted that she felt back asleep, and her father offered her his hand.

On the fourth day, Draco had somewhat recovered. The atmosphere in the house had changed, he told as they got dressed that his parents had returned the day before.

"How do you know? Are you telepathic as well?" and she found herself smiling again and then hid it with her hand.

"Kind of," he tilted his head, "We seem to know when we're near each other."

She nodded though she didn't understand and still wasn't sure if she cared about all these new but old things about him.

She was going to collect her things from the Cecils' and take them to her mother's, she had made up her mind that morning and Draco looked determined too. His doubtful demeanour had left him and she knew he was ready to fight.

They were waiting for them in the entrance hall, Lord Lurie and his wife. At seeing them Francis felt her resolve drop a little. It was how well they looked, unchanged and still merciless. They even smiled at them as they appeared on the top of the stairs, Lady Lurie's smile made her radiant and Francis felt herself smile in response and then again feel terribly guilty. She kissed Draco goodbye, studying his face to see if she should stay instead but Draco had become a statue. She descended the stairs slowly, hoping they would walk up the opposite to their son but they didn't move they watched her, she went to move passed them to the door.

Lady Lurie reached out and took her hand, "I'm glad to see you together," she said.

Francis didn't answer her; she was not to be trusted.

"And I am sorry for your loss. Poppy is heartbroken, be careful," the lady warned.

Francis nodded and continued on through the main doors, Samson nodding worriedly at her.

Draco walked with his parents to the morning room. He could feel the fire flaring inside him as he looked at the murderers. He kept it inside, almost gaining strength from the feel of the secret flames. He sat himself down, comfortably opposite his parents, thinking it all through just one more time, making sure he was certain, questioning whether he had the resolve. His father looked tired but happy, everything was falling into place.