Heliophilia; d.m

XXII

VIOLET

When I woke up the next morning and still didn't open my eyes, a small hope crept back into my head that it was all just a dream — a vision...

But when I opened my eyes, I saw an unfamiliar ceiling looming over me, and all my hopes were dashed again. Nothing was a dream or a vision, everything was reality. The fact that I was at Malfoy Manor was a reality, and the fact that Draco was lying peacefully asleep next to me was a reality. Everything Voldemort and my father had told me was real. I was doomed.

The room was dim, and it was just beginning to get light behind the heavy curtains. I'd never been an early riser, but that day, when I woke up just as the night was sinking below the horizon, I felt... not as exhausted as the day before.

The house was shrouded in silence and I decided to use this as a chance to at least have some time alone with myself and my thoughts. Exactly twenty-four hours ago, at this time, I had no idea how my life would turn out, at this time, twenty-four hours ago, all I could think about was the letter that had landed me in what was supposed to be my new prison.

"Good morning," A sudden voice caught me as I stepped into the drawing room, "Getting used to it?" He turned and went to sit at the head of the table, waving his wand at me to follow him.

And should I have expected to be left alone for even one day?

"I see you slept well?"

That smile on his pale, almost grey face didn't bode well, I thought, frowning slightly.

"Draco doesn't hurt you, does he?" The quiet room was filled with his evil laughter, and my heart seemed to skip a beat,

"You came into our room, didn't you?"

"Not me," His gaze darted to the door of the room, where the same man I'd come to my house with the day before was standing in the doorway, "Alright, and now about the important thing," He said, drawing my attention back, "You remember our deal, right? You do everything I say, and in return, I don't touch your fake father."

I nodded slowly, gritting my teeth. If only I could forget all this.

"I remember, get to the point."

"Get up, you're coming with us."

He nodded at the man, and before I could even think about anything, the three of us were in another place, even darker, even scarier, and I felt like the walls were soaked with pain and agony, the sickening smell of damp and iron crept inside me, and I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to shake it off.

I saw that in the corner of that small room, if you could call it that, there was a thick, almost burned-out candle that cast trembling shadows on the dark walls — a small light just a few steps away from me was the only light and I did not want to take my eyes off it, I was afraid that I would fall into that terrible, encircling darkness and not be able to go get out of there.

I heard that there were more than three people, I heard some moans and screams that were muffled, as if the one who made these sounds was gagged, I heard voices, the hiss of a snake, but it was all so distant, and unintelligible to me.

My eyes were fixed on the small flame, that was like a small setting sun, like my salvation, which was so close and yet so far away. I stood motionless in the same place, wishing I could just blend in with the wall, go unnoticed, just get away from that awful, creepy place, but I had long ago realized that my wishes were empty, my hopes were as fragile as the thinnest glass, and there was no escape in sight.

"Come closer," The voice I least wanted to hear spoke, and all eyes turned to me, as if the people who were there had just noticed my presence.

I forced myself to move, taking heavy steps closer to them, in complete silence, and when I reached the opposite wall of the room, I saw a rather elderly man, with disheveled grey hair, sitting tied up in a chair, his mouth was covered with a rope, preventing him from uttering anything but groans and wheezes.
There were tears of despair in his eyes, and the hope that I, a girl who probably looked fragile and not cruel from the outside, could somehow influence his fate. But I couldn't.

On the contrary, I already knew that I would be the one who would decide his fate, I knew that he was to be my victim, I knew what Voldemort expected of me.

I didn't know if the man was guilty of something or not, but the look of him... the way he shook his head desperately and tried to say something, the way he looked at everyone pleadingly, choking on his own tears— it all hurt me, my rib cage was about to break in half from the frantic beating of my heart, and when a whisper touched my ear, "Get your wand ready," everything was like a blur.

DRACO

I thought that despite everything that was going on, my stay at home would be brightened up at least a little by Violet's presence. But I was wrong.

From the day the whole truth was revealed, she became cold, distant, and almost avoided me. All the following days I tried to talk to her, to find out the reason, to understand at least something. I asked her to say a word to me, I asked her to explain, and she did.

On the last day at home, before returning to Hogwarts, I sat at the breakfast table, as I did every morning, surrounded by those who lived in our house on a permanent basis, but I had no appetite. I was running my fork over my plate of untouched food, lost in my thoughts, not listening to the other people talking around me, when suddenly Violet took her seat across from me. She was often absent in the morning, and I did not expect to see her before leaving for Hogwarts.

During those days spent with us, she changed, she seemed to become tougher, rougher, sadder, it all was for reasons, I knew, but still it was difficult to see her like this.

"You're late." Bellatrix said from under lowered lashes, a wry grin on her face.

Violet raised her eyebrows, and smiling faintly, she said, "You know, haste makes waste."

"What manners..." Bellatrix muttered, shaking her head. She was always short-tempered and didn't tolerate anyone behaving in a way she didn't like, but Violet — Bellatrix was afraid to say anything to her or do anything, she was afraid of the Dark Lord's anger.

"You know, actually the true reasons behind this outrageous act are entirely within the illogical territory of the unconscious part of my mind. Therefore, it is with a heavy heart that I have the honor to inform you that I have no way to interpret such an unfortunate and unpleasant incident." Violet said, raising her eyes to the ceiling and pursing her lips, thinking about something,

"Or maybe I have," She shrugged, "I think I didn't want to come here at all." She pushed her chair back from the table with a rasp that drowned out my mother's awkward cough, and standing up from the table, Violet looked around at the people sitting there, watching it all with downcast faces that showed embarrassment.

"I just realized I'm not hungry. Enjoy your meal." She left, tossing her hair behind her, leaving us for a few seconds in silence, which was soon broken by Bellatrix, who dropped her fork into her plate with a loud clink, and rose irritably from her chair.

"This girl... she's just a little..."

"Calm down. Leave her alone." My mother interrupted her. "Draco, it's time to go." She nodded at me with a faint smile.

"Yes, I need to get something from my room. One minute." Without waiting for an answer, I left, running up the stairs and straight into Violet's room. I wanted her to tell me something, at least before we didn't see each other again for months.

When I entered the room, I saw her sitting on the edge of the bed, her face covered by her hands, which she did not remove even when she heard someone enter.

"Violet—"

"Draco, it doesn't work," She interrupted, looking at me with eyes full of impotence, "You're leaving right now for a few months, and I'm going to stay here, alone, doing all these terrible things, just for my father," She got out of bed, taking steps closer to me, her face contorted with more pain and anger by the second,

"I don't have the time, and I don't have the energy for us."

"What do you mean?"

I'd always wondered how people felt when their hearts were broken. I'd always wondered what people saw in the eyes of those who broke their hearts — could it be hatred? Pain? Disgust? All together?

I saw only the indifference, the cold indifference, trapped in the glaciers of her eyes, when her distant voice said,

"Leave."