The Divinity of Duality - d.m.

Summer 4 Part 2

A soft whispers begins to grow louder and louder in my ear I still can't work out what the muffled wine is saying though. I thinks it's real though. Not just another trick my mind enjoys inflicting on me. I'm dead sober. And it's terrifying. 

"Millicent!" I snap my head to the side, finally understanding the muffled voice.

"Mother?" I question weakly.

"Now you decide to answer, after me calling your name for half an hour!" She snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. My eyes scan her up and down, before I sink back into the sheets of my bed. "You've been in here for a week, I think you should get out of bed." It wasn't a question.

"I've been in bed for a week?" I rasped, my throat feeling dry and my vocal cords sore, as if I'd been screaming the entire week.

"Yes, now up and out." I couldn't believe her. Was she not the slightest bit worried?

"Are you not even going to ask me?"

"Ask you what, Millicent?" She sighed, exhausted for the barley there conversation.

"Oh I don't know 'Hi honey, how are you coping with the death of your boyfriend?', Or I dunno, something motherly?" I quipped sarcastically, my voice still horse. Her faced turned to stone any previous emotions she was showing, quickly evaporating.

"Zabini women don't mourn." My mother said. She then grabbed my cheeks, pulling my face forcefully towards her. "What's that in your nose. 

"A piercing Mother, don't you think it's wonderful." I smirked viciously, excited for an outburst. Yet Mother just scowled,  turning around and striding out of my room, slamming the door behind her. I scoffed in frustration, throwing myself back onto my mattress. I may have just been too young to notice but my mother has been through a series of very wealthy and equally revolting husbands. Not one resembling my father, even slightly. It's always the same, they meet my mother and are instantly enamoured with her, marrying mere months later. They spend almost a year married before my 'step-father' tragically passes. Mother wears black for a month and carries around a spotless handkerchief before moving onto her next conquest. Was that what I was destined to become? Is that what Zabini women do? The list of high wizarding society rules somehow becomes even longer. The pit in my chest begins to emit that familiar burning sensation and my eye sight has blurred. dead sober. 

Draco POV

Nott, Blaise and I sat in Blaise's room passing round a bottle of 25 year old firewhiskey. Blaise has laughed at something Nott has said. Probably something vile. 

"Zabini when will your hot sister be gracing us with her presence. I haven't seen her since the Parkinson's ball." Blaise's smile dropped. I scowl at Nott, who clearly thinks he's going to 'finish what he's started'. My eyes drift back to Blaise who seems to be calculating his next words carefully.

"She's not feeling well." He decides on, taking a great swing of firewhiskey.

"What do you mean she's 'not feeling well'." Nott persisted.

"She was really close with Cedric and I think it may be bring back- never mind. She's not feeling well." We exchanged a look of knowing, a look of shared understanding. Understanding of the past mixing it's darkness with the present.

"Can I see her?" Nott continues, seemingly ignoring everything Blaise has indicated.

"What do you not understand Nott, she's not feel-" My angered rant was quickly cut short.

"Fuck it why am I asking you?" Nott snickers, getting up from his seat on Blaise's carpet. He rushes out Blaise's door before either of us can protest. Blaise and I exchange a look of panic before getting up and rushing to follow him. By the time we've rounded the corner he's already turning the knob to her door. We both try to grab Nott but instead stumble through the threshold of her door with him. I grab his collar raising a fist to pound him in the face when I hear Blaise's sharp intake of breath. I turn to look at her. Her curls are piled up messily on top of her head tendrils falling in front of her face, they looked so much duller and looser than usual. Her usually caramel skin looks almost pale, for her at least. It's a subtle olive that made a piece of my mask crack. She winced slightly as though she heard it. Deep bags painted under her eye and her subtle freckles had faded to barley there at all. Her cheek bones looked hollow and her plump lips had an obvious slice down the middle. It was devastatingly beautiful.