Circi | 2

THIRTY EIGHT

"Skirmish"

It was emptier, as Draco had told her, but a dark cloud seemed to hang over the premises and a storm lingered in the back of her mind as she entered the stone foyer.

Without the death eaters the Manor felt empty, the slam of the door echoed around her and she heard Narcissa's heels retreating down the hall.

When Draco brushed past and in the same direction as his mother, Circi took a tentative step in that direction as well. She could hear voices, not many, but enough to set her on edge. She peered around the corner and saw Bellatrix's back as she spoke to Narcissa and Draco.

They were in what used to be the lounge but the rug was gone and the sofa was pushed against the wall beneath the windows. The fireplace was empty and something about it being absent from a fire when people were in the room sent a chill down her spine.

Bellatrix's voice rose as she motioned to the staircase at the back of the room which Circi knew led into the cellars. She had no idea what they'd changed that space into since she had last seen it. It used to be a space for the elves but now she doubted it.

A man with a pinched face and thinning hair jogged up the stairs and entered the room, his hands fiddling with his wand as he mumbled to Bellatrix. Draco looked to the side and Circi leaned further into the room to see her father resting on the couch. He was twisting his cane against the floor as he watched them converse in the centre of the room. His eyes flickered to the doorway as if he was bored and noticed Circi.

Realising she had been seen, Circi spun around and ran back to the foyer and continued to pass through to the kitchen passage behind the stairs in the centre of the room. She passed through the kitchen quickly, noticing the elves had dwindled in numbers briefly before hearing the door up the stairs open.

Sprinting across the garden, she ran for the greenhouse at the back of the garden, which was noticeably overflowing with vines.

Cringing to herself when she stepped into the humid space, she took note that it had been cleared up since she had last been in there. There was no longer a pile of dirt on the ground for her to lay on but it was in new planters. The dirt was dry and crumbled when she ran her fingers through it. A folding chair stood propped against the far wall with a pile of newspapers stacked beside it. Seeing what had been her space become so dry and clean made her feel hollow.

They had blown her door off its hinges, held her hostage in her own home, and she had no idea when they had cleaned up her space, but it infuriated her.

The door opened and Lucius' cane tapped on the clean floor. She looked up at him, dirt trickling from her hands.

"What did you do?" She watches as he looks around.

"Well, I certainly wasn't going to sit around in the mess you left it in," he told her in a calculated voice, motioning to the folding chair while leaning heavily on his cane. He was watching her, dark circles beneath his eyes but his hair had returned to its usual, polished look.

He was watching Circi as though she was a stray animal he had cornered. She clutched at the dirt in her hand and looked around what used to be her space. But, now it reeked of him.

"At least someone can enjoy it." She tried to move around him but he moved his cane into the other hand and held his arm out to stop her.

Glancing at his arm and briefly at the cane, Circi looks at him. He was looking ahead, seemingly at nothing in particular but most definitely not at her. He took a moment, his mouth slightly apart as he searched for his words seemingly in the dry dirt around the room. Finally, he took a deep breath and looked at her, he noticed that she now stood at his height and wondered when that happened. She raised an eyebrow at him when he barely said a word.