Wilting

Wilting

The day was warm and the sun seemed to be smiling on the residents of the small Wiltshire town. Everywhere people where enjoying the beginning of summer and the hot, relaxing weather it promised to bring. Outside children played whilst adults watched on affectionately from the shade, take pleasure in their children's delight. An ice cream van drove down the street, its cheerful melody followed by the equally cheerful shrieks of excited children as they ran out to great it. Everything, from the plants with their colourful flowers to the people with their shouting, chattering and singing, was celebrating the start of the summer.

And one woman, who was sitting in the beautifully manicured gardens of a large manor house just outside the town, was rejoicing along with the rest, but for her the wonderful weather only raised already high sprits to a point where she felt like laughing, because there was nothing else she could do but bask in her happiness. But, although it would appear by looking at the woman that her life at this moment in time could not be any better, this was far from the truth. This woman, who had a pale face framed with waves of blonde hair, was actually not having a very good time of it at all and it had seemed to her that Fate, that cruel and fickle master, had dealt her a very bad hand of late. Nevertheless, in the last few hours the cards had turned and now she felt as if she could float away on a silver-lined cloud, for she knew now that the old saying was true, all clouds did have silver linings and she deduced, from her recent experience, that particularly thunderous clouds often had the very best.

However, this woman, whose name was Narcissa Malfoy, was not stupid and nor was she naive. She knew that her ecstasy would be short-lived and she would soon remember and have to confront again the reason she went to Spinner's End in the first place, so many hours before. So much had happened since she first knocked on the door of the house at the very end of the street, so many wonderful things, that it seemed to her days had past since that time, and she had to remind herself that it was only last night. She had to remind herself of why she went there because she knew it was far more important. But, for the time being, she let her mind wander back, from when she apparated home that morning and back still further, and she smiled because she knew that despite what was going on, despite the terrible things that were happing to her, she was not alone, as she had been for so long.

The warm air surrounded her like a blanket and the scent of the vibrant flowers filled her nostrils. The flower, she remembered suddenly. That is what they had called her when she was young, for her beauty and her grace. And she felt like that now, young and beautiful and graceful. He had done that to her. The flower, she mouthed, getting pleasure from calling herself that again. She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes, enjoying the peace and tranquil silence of her garden.

Time must have passed because when Narcissa next opened her eyes the sun had sunk lower in the sky and she found that the air was a little chillier. She got up, rubbing her arms to warm them slightly, and made her way into the house. It was in the entrance hall that she stopped, a smile spreading slowly across her face as she gazed at the grand marble fireplace that dominated the room. She was going to floo over to Spinner's End. She had promised to visit again soon and, though she thought that her mother would berate her for not letting him come to her ("A woman must never let a man know she is keen," she had often said) Narcissa didn't think she could bear it any longer if she didn't see him soon.

She had taken down the pot of floo power from the mantle piece of the grand fireplace that stood in the hall, and was about to take a handful of floo powder, when everything changed.

Green flames welled up in the fireplace and a figure appeared, rotating very fast, their black robes a blur. An even bigger smile broke out across Narcissa's face. He had come to her. He was here and in less than a second he would step out the fireplace and greet her, embracing her just like he had done last night. She stepped back, a look of expectation mingled with excitement on her face. Any second now, he would be there, any second now...

And then, out of the fireplace, stepped a tall pale man with long blonde hair tied back in a rough ponytail. His skin was grubby, as if it hadn't been washed properly in a long time, and his hair was slightly matted. His black robes were torn in places and badly darned in others. Despite his tattered appearance he wore an arrogant sneer under cold and unwelcoming eyes.

Narcissa's face fell. Before her, standing there as clear as day was her husband.

"Lucius," she whispered, shocked. "Lucius!" she repeated as if she couldn't quite believe her eyes. What was he doing here? He was supposed to be in prison, locked up in Azkaban far away. This was not real. It could not be real.

"Going somewhere?" he asked in a silky voice, indicating the pot of floo powder clenching in her hand.

"N-No," she stammered, brought to the reality confronting her by the sound of his all-too familiar voice. "I-I was just going to go shopping."

He smiled, a smile that was not kind or friendly in any way, but more of a smile that said he was back and she must be happy to see him. He extended his arm towards her and waited expectantly. Narcissa, taking one last look at the floo powder as if it had been her ticket to freedom, moved obediently towards her husband. He embraced her roughly and it was in those few seconds, as he held her in his arms, that it all came flooding back, as if a dam had broken in her consciousness releasing all the terrible things that she had forgotten. The war; the Unbreakable Vow; the task that Draco couldn't complete and his resultant flight; her fear for her son when she had no idea where he was or what had happened to him. All came back to her so quickly it was as if someone had slapped her in the face. She felt, in that moment that she was dying inside, that she was wilting like a flower which has nothing left to blossom for.

~ The End ~