A Flurry Of Crimson

Chapter 9 | Roaring Thunder

Ages have passed and I'm still waiting for a response from Hermiabel. What if something happened to her? What- if-what- if...?

I decide to focus on positive thoughts since I have been paranoid, but I'm failing. If I trust that positive things are going to happen, I'll be destroying my whole life with my own hands.
No good can be expected from what has been happening lately.

I need to be realistic.

I had the worst day, and I'm exceptionally wrecked, but an instinct deep inside me tells me to stay awake.

Attentive.

My thumbs brush over the parchment of the book I carry in hand. It's odd to find a copy of "pride and prejudice," a muggle book, at the great manor of a Pureblood family.

I am easily driven out of focus, I could make my vision blurry whenever I want. The heavy need of sleep is weighting on my lids, causing them to shut.

"Wake up!" I shrug myself awake.
With each bounce of the hail against the roof, panic batters more forcefully into my veins.

The manor is agitating by the windows that prevent the sun from exhaling its light inside. As well as the Dark Lord had took over it to be the meeting place, it became darker. More terrorizing.
You can hear screams and torture in the night, turning into some demons that are hunting you.

Silence would be loud and grim. It causes me every so often to vibrate with apprehensive feelings.

I have practiced over objects in my room in order to brake the silence, fiddling over past memories from the DA. I have casted the spell 'Diffindo' over an aqua flower vase marbled with traces of faint gold. The vase shattered in place, broken pieces falling to the ground.

I have spent most of my nights crying when no one came to my aid.

Now, I look down my bed to see the withered flowers strewn over the floor, splinters of glass swimming into them.

The amount of foolish carelessness dominates me to walk over them. I step over them sensing their sharp pricks digging into my skin, no wince would show upon my face, as though I'm a ruthless person.

Ruthless for pain.

I've been victimised with the Cruciatus curse each time I rejected a task from my master.

I obligate myself to adapt.

For a moment, the hail begin to clatter against the roof and windows harmonically. Like some calm music.
And a louder clatter would join in between an instant and another, as if it's a high note of a melody.

It gets louder,
and louder.

"CLACK- clack- CLACK- clack..."

I get to my feet nervously, my fingernails biting into the fabric of my robe.

I decide to follow the sound, perceiving that it's beating against one of the windows.

Tightening my grip around the velvet curtains, I force myself to pluck up the courage and push them away.

There's nothing.

My heavy steps advance to the other one. My breath locks in my lungs as I push away the curtains.

My eyes wander over the glass window, and I let them adjust. The lightning tore into the dark blue, allowing me to see more of the view.

I see nothing but the orangery and the exterior grounds of Malfoy Manor empty.

When I spot something instantly bright down the garden, next to the fountain court, I allow my gaze to fix upon it until a lightning goes past through it, turning everything white in my sight.
I scurry my steps backwards at the roar of the thunder, stumbling on my bed.