Third Death

Third Death

Songfic by Lunaris

(song: Kari Rueslatten: Dead, 1995 Demo)

The emptiness approaches

winding down the path

knows the direction

it has been here before

As I walk along the small garden he lets me keep, I think of my life. I do that a lot. It seems I do nothing else nowadays, but think.

I also think of my only treasure. Draco will turn seventeen this year. He said to me it will be then he will receive the Dark Mark. I cry every night since I´ve come to know that. He is just a boy! He has so much living to do still! I am so afraid. I see bitterness, pride and so much pain in him, sometimes I wonder if it could be that he was only mine. My son. My blood. Not His.

But then I see Draco´s hair, and I wonder what would it look ... darker. Not so white as his. How would his eyes be, if they were... a warm brown, maybe. If he did not look so much like him.

It is funny, to see what powers names have. I will not say his to him, either. It´s mostly "husband" or "my lord" anyway. Funny to think how easily would "Lord Voldemort" roll out of my mouth, and not his name. I am afraid of everything. Of his moods. Of his house. Of the creatures he keeps in the dungeons. Of his friends. Of his enemies. I fear sounds, smells, shadows. Most of all I fear my own weakness.

I can feel it lay down to slumber

This time it will stay a while

I can´t do this any longer. I am so tired. I am so old.

I want to go home.

I am Narcissa Lashier. I am Ravenclaw. I am seventeen. That was home. Hogwarts. Draco´s school, now.

Draco. What is he doing now? How is he feeling? What are his dreams, his ambitions? What does he wish for himself? Has he finally fallen in love?

My little son. He is just a boy, but he feels eons old. He has been through so much, at such young an age. I should have run away with him when he was small. I used to have all prepared: clothes, money, some potions and herbs, his child´s wand. And a knife. I used to think I would kill us before he got to us. But that´s the part that, when I reach it in the endless sea of thoughts, I just start sobbing. Like now. I am just so plain stupid sometimes. As if I could outsmart him. I suppose he knows of my thoughts, but not the bundle I left not far from here.

This is the "Women´s Garden" after all, as he uses to say. He would never come down here when I am present; he officially considers it disgustingly female. That´s what he used to convince me of, at least. Of course, I know better. I have a fake diary here. I´ve had it for three years. I write in it things that he wants to think I think. And keep him happy enough that he hadn´t been pressing Draco that hard with this Death Eater thing, since. And he hadn´t suspected the bundle hidden in the old oak´s hollow.

Not even a straw of hope is spared

for me to cling to

But how can I think of doing anything by my own? I did that so long a time ago I feel so weak. I need some water, I wish I could Accio it to me. Alas, he does not permit me to have a wand, so if I need anything, a house-elf has to bring it to me, so he knows always where I am. I am lucky it is in the garden, this time. Last time he discovered me in the library, he actually cursed me for several times. The house- elves found me, as always. Draco never knew. He never knows. I suppose if he knew, he´d kill his father. I am so afraid he will do it anyway. I am terrified. I do not want to lose Draco! He is all I have, my flesh, my blood, my only. The only right thing he has ever done. My son. And he is so young! As young as I was when I´ve been given to him. As a loyalty gift. I am just that. I cannot do anything else.

I have searched

through endless nights

with the bare moon

as my guiding light

Not to say I haven´t tried, you know. I was Narcissa Lashier, then, even if betrothed to him. I loved Hogwarts. It was so much wonder! All the fascinating subjects, the new things learned. I was obsessed with flowers, plants, and my favorite subject was Herbology. By the time I got in fourth year, I had studied all that Mademoiselle Willow had to teach me. My favorite plant was Alyssum Worth, a beautiful flower, used to make the fines essences and oils. And it meant "beyond beauty", my deepest wish and desire. For people to see beyond "beautiful Narcissa Lashier, Ravenclaw prefect". Naturally, as a future Malfoy, I was taken just as a beautiful woman, and as women do, required to wear makeup charms and bathe in milk since I was thirteen. He would need a beautiful wife, not someone with brains and personality.

Beautiful days.

And of course, there were boys. I have known I would never marry for love, but when people are young, they tend to think the world is theirs to change. I have though, obviously, been careful, nobody ever noticed. I started watching people. Drawing them in my mind, with all their quirks and habits. And I have searched for people who would be nice to meet, of people I would always despise, and of people whom I later will avoid. It was so easy, so logical. So fun. Then I noticed him. Gryffindor. Black hair, mischievous smile. Many friends. Name of a star.

to find someone

of my own kind

I watched him carefully. For a long time. He was smart, fascinating, and funny. Also moody, stubborn and chaotic. I observed him, obsessed with him, tossing my Herbology books aside. I was sixteen, then. I knew everything of him, his favorite food, his friends, people he did not like... Along the snowy winter days, or the endless spring afternoons, I would sit in or out, where I could see him, and watched him study, play Quidditch, fight snowballs, prank poor Severus. Sometimes I just sat down as near him as I could get, and closed my eyes, imagining I was with him, partaking of his warmth.

Then on day in September, when I was studying Herbology in the library, he came up to me, put down a flower on my desk, a white Alyssum, and kissed me. Then he asked me to be his girlfriend. Forever.

You know, as I watched him, he watched me. He knew everything about me. What was my favorite food, my friends, people I distrusted. He had watched me in secret, when I studied, gathered herbs, read a book, watched other people. We matched perfectly. My last year at Hogwarts has been filled with secret meetings, away of the prying eyes of my then-fiancée.

Am I doomed to walk my path in solitude?

It felt like eternity. But it is over now. He was secluded in Azkaban, for something I knew he did not commit. Now, he is hiding in Hogwarts from those who still think of him as an ex Azkaban-inmate. Sirius. I am so sorry, if only... if only... if only it was me they took to Azkaban. Or him, I know he deserved it. Oh, what´s the use of all this? It will not bring back anything.

I feel so alone. And now he wants to take even Draco from me. My son will be a Death Eater soon. My heart, if I still had one, would break now. But my heart is gone. I have died the day I married him. My first death.

My blood freezes red turns to black

It is always so cold here at the Manor. Even in summer. I always shiver. I cannot remember the last time I felt warm. Maybe because he likes silk so much. So silk dress I have to wear. I feel I will never be warm in my life again. Maybe I am really dead, only no one noticed. No one would notice.

No, I am unjust. Draco would notice. My only. My holy. My son. No one else.

Damn him.

this is dead

Freeze him in your icy breath, let his blood be the sacrifice, let him wither away slowly. Let him die a little every day. Let...

this is me

But damned I am, not him. I am Narcissa Malfoy. The Woman Who Died. Died the day I took his hand. Died again the day Sirius was taken away. They say there´s magic in numbers, and there is the most magical of all. I should know. I was Ravenclaw.

In earth

As I lounge towards the small bundle in the oak´s hollow, I know I must be quick. I pull out what I looked for, and I hide beneath my cloak, not without a flash of silver. I hear the dogs barking. I have to go. As I go up the stairs to Draco´s room I receive an owl from him. I let the letter fall to the ground, unopened. I climb higher. I enter Draco´s room.

I find quietness

He does not hear me enter. My only, my beautiful sleeping son. How can I tell you how much I love you? You are to whom I smile. You are my all. My blood. My little son. My grown, sad, beautiful, cold son. I kiss his forehead, he does not wake. He peacefully sleep while the world goes down. I will save him. My blood. My life.

I watch his chest rise and fall. He is everything I have. I am everything he has. It would be unfair to leave him alone. I love him too much.

I raise my blessing, a flash of silver.

which I so long hath seeked

I welcome thee, third, and final death.