XXIV
Rain coated the castle in a layer of tepid dew, tapping at the windows in a mishappened rhythm. Usually I'd be inclined to enjoy it, the pluviophile inside me overjoyed to be able to lose myself in a complete state of chrysalism.
But now it was just time marked as another day that reparations weren't fulfilled, making the process lengthier and putting off return dates for the school to once more open its doors to the future bright generation of young wizards and witches.
Howling winds that could rival even the most harrowing of sounds made by those who were to transform under a full moon. Because without Hogwarts, they'd have no safe place to do so, and that's why the wind and the rain brings disappointment that is unmatched.
Rumbles of thunder cut through the air, shaking the wind and reminding everyone of the daunting fragility of life. We are all just storms that have yet to unleash our potential of either being a calm haven in which one might enjoy reading a book whilst listening to the power of it, or of destruction, in the most severe degree. No in-between.
And we did that quite a bit, her and I. The bad weather was just another excuse to be close to each other, except amongst the light show and crashing flitters I heard another storm brewing; one that would manifest in to clouds of fear shaped by the dark mark exploiting the air, and rain that was comprised of the blood of those who dare to defy it.
Doing so would be the equivalent of standing with a large metal pole, and just waiting for the heavens to put you down in an instant with a charge of electric that nobody was equipped to repel.
Y/n wearily entered the office of the headmistress, swaying haplessly like a small child lost and searching for its familiars. The comfort of fabric chairs, ambient candlelight, fresh tea brewing and gentle ticking of clocks were met with more silence until one of them decided to break it.
"How do you like your tea y/n?" McGonagalls question was simple, but it took y/n longer than usual to reply, as if she had completely forgotten how she likes her tea. "Just some milk and two sugars please."
The tea was made and biscuits were offered, thankfully y/n caved in to her own stubbornness and began to go through them like she hadn't eaten in forever. In reality it wasn't quite forever but it had been a while. McGonagall smiled watching her, but never let her see it.
Y/n would resent any level of pity taken on her, it was her pet hate.
"So," McGonagall retrieved a large bundle of letters from her desk and placed them gently in front of y/n. "You don't have to open them here, if you wish for privacy then that's fine. But it's likely to be a hard read for you. And the thought of you suffering it out alone in your room doesn't sound like something anyone would want."
If she wanted to be nosey then she should of just said it but that would be too easy.
"Whatever just pick one from the pile and I'll open it, there's no point dallying around."
Y/n snatched the letter that Minerva handed over before sinking back in to her chair. The professor just clasped her hands together in patient thought.
Speaking aloud, y/n took in a deep breath before reading what had been hidden beneath the envelope she just tossed aside.
Dear y/n,
I don't know why I'm still writing to you. I don't even know where you are right now. I hope though, that it's somewhere beautiful. You deserve a better future, just like the one we spoke about.. you know the one where we're just going to get a campervan and run away to the coast.
The thought alone is what kept me going in some of the darkest days of my life, and I still think about it now. That if I hadn't of fucked it all up then maybe we could of still had a chance to do that.
Just you and me, our stupid fucking owls and however many Nifflers and Pygmypuffs you intended on adopting. Wreaking havoc and living in organised chaos but still so tranquilly happy.
And I'm sorry for making you that promise when I knew that I wouldn't be able to follow through on it, frankly I was promising myself too, deluded and hopeful that it was still something that would be real for us.
I've looked for you everywhere y/n, and I just can't find you.
You walked away from me that day and I never saw you again, you just disappeared. And now the only reminder that you even existed is the lingering smell of your perfume on my clothes that won't come out no matter how many times they're washed.
You're literally everywhere, but nowhere at all. Nobody will tell me, I don't even know if you're still alive.
But I miss you.
So fucking much that some nights I become so short of breath for crying that it feels like choking. And I don't know if I'm ever going to feel okay again, but if I do, its not going to be for a very long time.
A letter solved my problems for me more than once and I guess that's why I keep sitting here, numb, writing to you but never sending it because I just can't fucking find you y/n.
Last night was the worst, because you were here with me. Until I woke up and the bed beside me was still empty. I keep seeing and hearing things that my first instinct is to turn and tug your arm so that you could see it too, I do it all the time, and that's when it hurts the most.
I don't know why I'm writing these, but at least if I do then I can pretend like you'll ever see them and forgive me. Even if it isn't true.
You were my last piece of sanity, so without you I'm slowly losing it.
I've stopped hanging on to the hope that I'll receive one from you, so I'm replying to emptiness. But I'm becoming so callous now that talking to the emptiness feels natural to me. I'm getting used to it.
I am sorry, and I don't know what exactly equates to love. But in my own way I know that I loved you more than anything on this earth.
When I see you again, I'm going to tell you that..
Goodnight y/n. I love you.
DrACo MAlfOy
Y/n fell slack in her chair, pressing the letter in to her lap and just stared at the mug of warm tea that still had a little steam rising from it. "Well.. at least he knows what a dick he was I suppose."
Her statement was short but effective, managing to claw back any emotion that dared to spill from her. She would save that for later. And pursing her lips before placing the letter back on to the desk she seemed to have a spark of an idea.
"Can you do something for me Professor?"
"Yes of course. Anything, within reason."
"Write to the Malfoys for me."
Minerva seemed taken aback by the request, as y/n had shown little to no desire to contact my parents except to accept their offer of taking our child in and raising him themselves. Money had been offered for the deal but aggressively declined.
"I want to go there."
"Go where?"
"Where they put him," there was a long pause as the atmosphere shifted. Her eyes finally coming up to meet McGonagall's and holding her gaze in certainty. "His grave, I want to see where he's buried."
"Are you sure that's wise in your condition?"
"I'm pregnant, not an invalid. I want to go, whether you or anyone else likes it or not. I think I'm well within my right and I can't see Mr or Mrs Malfoy having an issue with it. I need some sort of closure, and whilst that won't even begin to heal what I'm feeling. It's a start."
The chair screeched as she stood, scooping up the letters and drinking the rest of her tea. "So can you do that for me, please?"
"Yes, I'll do it. But I just hope you know what you're throwing yourself in to."
"I appreciate your concern McGonagall, but I'm a grown woman and about to be a mother. As you can probably tell by now, I can make decisions for myself. Thank you."
Cold and indifferent y/n returned, a very thin smile confirming that the mask was back on. And she left quietly, a little hurried even; no doubt itching to get through some more of the pathetic attempts at apologising through words on some parchment.
Meanwhile I was on the other side of the castle, on the hunt for some sort of solace from a fellow dead person. It wasn't hard to find Weasley. And he looked exactly the same as he always had, blindingly red hair and aura of mischief surrounding him.
"Weasley?" I was ignored. He knew I was talking to him, but didn't care. "Fred?"
I'd never referred to any of the Weasley's by name before so I think he must of responded out of pure shock. "What?"
"Can I talk to you for a minute?"
"I don't know Malfoy, can you?"
That wasn't a joke, it was a refusal. But I wasn't leaving without even trying.
He paced a few yards, and then back again. "Fine, get whatever you've got to say over with so I can go back to not having to look at you."
"I need to know how you do it."
He snickered sarcastically, in awe of how entitled and deluded I must be to think he'd ever help me now if ever. "Do what Malfoy? Die because I was fighting against everything that you openly stood for? Because even though you missed that, as you can see, it happened. So nice one for that mate. And in all honesty, if I could kill you again then I'd do it right here no hesitation. So fuck off."
"I know you hate me, you've every right to. I've done some really awful shit but it doesn't change the fact that I have unfinished business too."
"Oh cry me a river. The cheek on you is astounding. What you gonna do finish the rest of them off? Make it a hat trick or something? Get lost."
"It's not for me Weasley. It's for y/n. You were friends with her were you not?"
"Well yeah because she was Ginny's friend but what's your point?"
We were both becoming frustrated now. His attempt at flippantly pushing a cauldron over actually working, the more wound up he got the more energy he was able to exuberate.
"I need to know how to do that. Move stuff or just like show myself. She's on her last straw down there and I can't handle just sitting around and watching her break down any longer. -- By the time autumn comes and it's really not that long.. we'll have a child together and I can't have her spend another day thinking she's entirely alone."
"Oh wow, well done. Even when you're dead you still somehow manage to one up everyone else. I'll never get to have a family, why should you have such an honour?"
"It's not about me Weasley, this is about her. From the very second I found out in that courtyard, it was about her and that baby."
"Well at least you've got your priorities straight for once."
"So? Please? Help me. I'll do anything that you ask. I'm begging."
He seemed to crack in to a devious grin. "Begging?"
"Yes. Begging."
Fred pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed loudly. As much as he hated me, it wasn't in his nature to watch somebody else struggle and suffer, y/n was no exception. "Look, I don't have the answers that you're looking for. But, try going to Dumbledore's portrait. That's all I'm saying. Now fuck off and don't ask me for anything again, you cock sucking fucktwit."
"Thank you," I said my words earnestly. But was just met with an eyeroll. "Whatever, I'm going to find Peeves, stay out of my way."
I'd like to add that without a fully formed apparition I was unable to just walk through closed doors and walls. And spinning in such a hurry, I misjudged the placement of one of the fragile beams that was surrounding the opening. Walking face first in to the fucking thing and leaving Weasley absolutely hysterical under his breath.
I never thought I'd end up resorting to Dumbledore for answers, on the pretence that he'd even give me the time of day at all. Yet, I'd beg him a million times over if he could offer me anything at all, even if it's just the daunting admission that this is how it'll be for good now.