evanescent ― draco malfoy

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

"𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒖𝒔!"

✥

CARA GRIMALDI was no stranger to drawn-out silences, even the kind so impermeable they seemed to be carved directly from the thickest of brimstones. She'd been privy to plenty of stares and whispers, murmurs and speculations, but the silence had always clung to her as fearfully and strongly as the grip of a dementor's gnarled hand. Even after she had escaped the halls of Hogwarts, where its deafening, soundless roars pushed against the rock of the walls and seemed to tighten the tie of blue satin neatly knotted around her neck, it had followed her, its icy claws digging into her back. 

She had been lucky to leave when she did. If she had stayed a minute longer, her fragile facade would have crumbled under the weight of Blaise's stares, or Eleanor's featherlight grazes of her arm at dinner. She glanced for a moment at the stack of letters that had resided on her bedside table since June, Eleanor's loopy penmanship and Blaise's jagged scrawl looming up at the ceiling, as if daring her to confront the beast of her own neglect. Having made the deliberate choice to neither open nor respond to any of the forty-seven letters they both had sent since April, Cara knew that she would probably be less than welcome in the Slytherin fourth-years' compartment this year, but looking at their letters brought a revolting feeling to her stomach, one she thought she had left well in the past. Pity loomed from the jet-black ink scratched deliberately onto the parchment, and she wanted none of it. Whispered condolences from the rest of her skittish Ravenclaw housemates were one thing, but pity from Slytherins, albeit her two best friends, was something else altogether.

Cara had already planned her return meticulously in her head, so that when September first finally arrived, a mask devoid of the unyielding sorrow she'd been drowning in for six months would be firmly sealed onto her dainty face the moment she stepped onto the raucous platform to the Hogwarts Express. Blaise would be forgiving, Eleanor less so. It would take a while, but she would eventually be accepted back into both Slytherins' good graces. She would have to endure the concerned yet pointed questions of her inquisitive housemates, though she wasn't worried, Cara had always been good at making excuses for herself.

With that, she turned from the pile of mocking letters to survey the cavernous room. Not a speck of dust lingered on the mahogany, every piece of furniture was just so. It was as if the fourteen-year-old witch had never inhabited the space. Cara nodded in satisfaction, but quickly started in surprise once she surveyed the doorway to discover a small elfin creature standing there, its bulging eyes fixated on her cream-colored, matching leather satchel and trunk. She huffed at the house-elf, who quickly trotted into the room to retrieve her bags. "Nonny, you mustn't scare me like that. You're always welcome inside my room, you know."

The house-elf, Nonny, looked up at her with huge blue eyes. "Nonny is sorry, Miss. Nonny will come in next time." Reaching for the satchel and trunk, she levitated them at the command of the elfin magic encapsulated within her brittle fingers. The eyes welled up with tears as Nonny looked up at Cara once more, the elf's expression growing ever more saddened as she made eye contact with the girl. "Nonny will miss Miss Cara very much when she is away at Hogwarts."

Cara smiled ruefully at her small companion. "I will miss you greatly as well, Nonny. I've prepared some cookies for you in the kitchen, they're all yours after you bring my things downstairs, please." With a snap of the fingers, Nonny was gone, and Cara was alone, yet again, but for the pile of letters scorching holes into her brain. The Italian countryside spanning across the wide windows on the other side of her bedroom was engulfed by wind and fog, blocking her view of the lake on the edge of the expansive property. It was only fitting that the lake, where she had spent so much time with her father, would be enshrouded by this ghostly wind, mocking her grief in its rattling cackles against the shingles of the estate. Taking one final glance at the gray landscape before her, Cara rose from her bed into the hallway and made her way down the marble staircase of the front entryway. 

To her relief, neither her mother nor Nonny were anywhere to be seen, the vast space devoid of any life but Cara's as her heels clicked against the polished stone. Everything was gray, as far as the eye could see – the interior of the foyer trimmed with faded cobalt had lost its vibrant hue to the dullness of the roaring, ashen winds outside, and even the lush greenery of the vineyards had been overtaken by the clouds that lurked like a ghastly spirit. She stepped toward the fireplace, where the sickening feeling that had engulfed her at the sight of the pile of letters in her room overtook her once more. Centered at the mantle of the fireplace within an ornate golden frame sat her father, Dante Grimaldi's portrait. His once lively face held no hint of the booming laugh that had been audible throughout the mansion's many corners for years, nor were his eyes crinkled in amusement. The somber expression he wore in death was one Cara had rarely ever witnessed in life, and she loathed her mother for commissioning a portrait of this man who was not her father, the lurching remnants of his former self hidden beneath a ghastly stare and sunken eyes. 

The Floo powder sat in a container atop the fireplace, and as she reached up to grab it, her fingers brushed the frame of her father's tainted legacy. The fire was already crackling, Nonny must have seen to it before retreating to the kitchen. Sprinkling the finely dusted powder into the fire, took one final look at the house, the orchard bristling in the wind outside the stately windows, her mother's pointed face nowhere in sight but watching all the same from the numerous family portraits hung on the staircase. Picking up her bags, Cara stepped into the whirling flames, mind steeled and heart ablaze, as she shouted,"King's Cross station!"