My Weasel

Chapter 48 - Cleaning-

Shortly after the odd events in the kitchen, the other members of the house had started to wake. The house felt alive despite the dreary decor and mounted house elf heads that lined the stairway. Of course, I had dashed out of the kitchen before anyone came down to eat, trying to avoid their suspicious stares. It was natural for them to be weary of me but my insides would still churn whenever I was caught under their observant eyes.

Stumbling into the drawing room, I found the nearest chair and pulled out another book Lucius had assigned. After all, the only reason I was currently allowed to be in this household was the promise that my readings would be finished. The book was withered, obviously having been passed down upon numerous generations.

Inside were detailed drawings of the anatomy, and how various dark hexes affected them. Images of twisted limbs and malicious writing were scrawled across the pages, horrific to the average reader. However, I was used to these types of novels, the hard green covers and ghastly topics sparking familiarity while I read.

It was not as though I enjoyed these assignments, but I often found myself becoming engrossed in the dark thoughts, so carelessly expressed. These authors were not afraid of another person looking into the twisted mind that rested within their skull, something I couldn't fathom. Sure, my thoughts were warped, how could they not be after the horrors I had endured. Yet the idea of sharing what went on inside my mind, writing it down for others to see, it was unimaginable.

The shame that resided within me, the guilt that plagued my senses would never allow me to express such things. It was sick and cruel to imagine the way another's body would react to dark spells, but while my eyes skimmed the page, my thoughts could not be contained. Twirling my necklace out of habit, I snapped the book shut, willing myself to look away.

Instead, I focused my attention on the olive-green walls covered in dirty tapestries. There were also long velvet curtains, moving strangely, like there was something swarming within them. Continuing to take note of the strange activity, I barely registered the approaching footsteps.

"Alright make sure your faces are covered and have your spray ready." Mrs. Weasley's motherly voice sounds from the entrance of the room. Behind her, Granger, Potter, and the Weasleys had flooded into the previously quiet room. They were all wearing cloths over their noses and mouths, large bottles of black liquids in their hands.

"What is this stuff?" I hear the irritable voice of Ron Weasley ask his mother. Hermione starts to open her mouth, eager to display her vast knowledge, but I beat her to it.

"Doxycide, and I imagine the infestation is in the curtains." I stand up from my chair, making my presence known to the group.

"Oh didn't see you there Black." Fred grins, creating an odd pang in my chest.

"It's Rees to you Weasel." I chastise, picking my book up from the couch.

"Would you mind helping us dear?" Ms. Weasley questions, noticing that I was drifting towards the exit. Taking in her warm eyes and kind smile, I can't help but give into her plea for help.

"Of course Ms.Weasley." I give her a rare grin and take the outstretched bottle of doxycide from her hand.

"Thank you Delilah, I have never seen an infestation like this in all my years. What that house elf has been up to these past ten years-"

"Kreacher's really old, he probably couldn't manage." The granger girl interrupts, throwing a critical look in Ms.Weasley's direction.

"You'd be surprised what Kreacher can manage when he wants to Hermione." My father enters the room, carrying a bloodied bag that appears to be filled with dead rats.