The Lovers

The Great Escape

A freezing chill woke me, a routine I don't favour. The harsh stone floor pressed into my back; It begged for me to rise. I sat up rubbing my back for relief, however, the pain was unfaltering. My hand scraped under my sad excuse for a pillow and my warm fingers collied with softwood. The feel of my wand between my fingers was exhilarating. My wand was barely ever in my possession- only given to me to attack or kill. It's black stain complemented the small emeralds that were inlaid like green stars by my mother.

The dark basement felt vast and expansive without light. As I flicked my wand, the room became nothing more than a small dingy box with a tattered wardrobe and a grimy bathroom. I shifted away from the wall and grabbed my glasses. Their frames were round cat-eye shape, and the prescription was ancient. The cold metal chilled my face, making goosebumps flow across my body. The dank walls, which witnessed many tragedies, watched me- waiting for my next move. I decided it would be to get dressed for the nauseating yet monumental day.
My numb feet carried me the two steps towards my beaten wardrobe. The only clothes that hung there were a warm outfit that was both cosy and concealing. The rest of my minuscule wardrobe was packed into my suitcase ready for my escapade. The simple outfit consisted of a chocolate brown turtleneck jumper, a white cotton maxi skirt, white knitted tights and my trusty black Dr Martens. My clothes eased the never-ending chill. The last piece of the puzzle was my black corset-the only item of clothing that makes me feel truly beautiful. My weight has always been my biggest insecurity and flaw and this corset hides that. After I cinched myself into the corset, I brushed my teeth and made my hair turn a dark shade of brown to match my jumper. I whisked it into a bun and took out my small makeup bag which I kept in my "precious things bag".I rarely wear it but today is special. I laid out the little makeup I had on the tiny countertop. However low my resources were, it was perfect for me. First, I took my glasses off and swiped mascara onto my lashes. Then, a soft pink blush across my cheeks. Finally, a strawberry red lipstick glazed over my lips.

My mind rushed back to when I was small, no older than six. I was curious to see how my mother looked so beautiful and I went traipsing through her makeup while she was at the supermarket. I knew it was risky as its the one thing that was forbidden. As I opened her case, I immediately wanted to shut it and walk away but the bright pinks and purples drew me in. After around half an hour, I felt exactly how my mother looked. But then my father walked in and punished me. He dragged me from the room and to mine where I was told I would go without dinner. I cried off most of the makeup as I lied in my bed. At dinner time I heard shouting and then my nana walked through my door with two plates of sausage and mash, my favourite. We sat on ate on my bed and she told me how pretty I was with and without makeup. This memory was like many others I clung to survive in this wretched place.

A buzzing sound erupted from my alarm clock signalling its go time. I collected all of my things and enchanted them to float behind me so I wouldn't have to carry it.

One of the older generations of Malfoy's built this house in the 19th century. In that period rich, the conceited family's employed servants to cook and clean. So they built the basement as a living quarter. Like many other families, they installed bells in each room and a matching belt in the basement to communicate. Unique to the Malfoy's however is was that they all learnt morse code so they wouldn't have to physically speak to the servants. The Malfoy's alive today are ignorant of this fact and deem them pointless. The only reason I know this information is because I found a box of the diary's that where written by the servants that lived in the basement. Draco, who was the only Malfoy that was ever nice to me, had come to give me my dinner the same night and I told him about the bells and the morse code. The next night he came back with not only my dinner but two tatty old books on morse code. He told me of the massive library next to his bedroom containing works of the Bronte sisters, Dickens and much, much more. So from these books, we leant how to talk without being caught. This made the last seven years less lonely for both of us.