the trial ; d.m

22

28th February 2003

Each day that has passed since the trial has been like a moody dredge of a slow grief, dragging and draining the soul's very essence.

Geneva can't seem to rid herself of it. The hollowness of her fears. Each building upon the other moulding another shadow to trap and corner in the remaining light that flickers and falters within her.

Since the trial, she's isolated herself. Hasn't left the Manor once, not even to seek refuge in the gardens. She's let the gardens go to pot, most of her plants wilted, decayed and unkempt by the freezing malice of this never ending Winter.

But nothing urges her to help them. She can hardly keep herself afloat currently.

All is made considerably worse due to the fact that there is hardly any comfort within her household anymore. Her husband still remains to avoid her as if out of fear that she will convict him of a crime. Their nights together are quiet and remote, only filled with the usual small talk of married people. But sometimes any sign of warmth she used to know seems like it had never even existed.

In recent weeks, Geneva has found herself openly more curious regarding Malfoy. Not in any sort of way of infatuation, but perhaps more in terms of attachment. Though peculiarly she's not ashamed to admit it. It seems quite justifiable when recollecting what he did for her all those weeks ago.

However, saying she is comforted by his presence would not be the perfect word of description. Although she appears to seek conversation with him must he happen to walk into the room, she would not find an excuse to linger in his company for too long without feeling unsettled. And he only appears to feel the same.

On this particularly bleak morning, Geneva relaxes in the drawing room reading her book, having probably gone through about fifty in the time that's passed since the trial.

"There you are, Gen," Theodore wanders into the room wearing a determined yet fraught expression. "I must tell you I'm going away for a short while."

"What do you mean you're going away? For how long?" Geneva gapes at her husband, feeling absolutely dumbfounded.

"Just a few days. I'll be back before you know it," he explains, gathering his stuff together, avoiding eye contact at all costs. "The Ministry require me to fill in for the senior undersecretary on official business at Hogwarts."

"Why did you not tell me?"

Not that he actually tells her anything now.

"I only just found out, Gen. Honestly if I'd known a few days ago I would have said something. You know that."

"Do I?" she huffs under her breath.

"You'll be okay with Malfoy, won't you?" he ignores her question, flicking through a stack of papers in his hands, barely paying her any attention.

"Yes, of course," she replies a bit too assuredly. Her confidence clearly surprises him. She adds with a deceiving smile, "I'll be sure to lock him away for the next few days."

He offers a brief laugh in return, "I've spoken with him already."

He pauses and actually takes a second to look at her. His hand finds her face and gently caresses her cheek. And he says, "I love you, you know," with that possessive but caring look in his eyes that she always loved. But it irks her this time.

"I'm mad at you, you know," she frowns, her tone slightly humorous. She internally curses that damned soft spot which makes it impossible to stay permanently angry at him.

And then he leaves her with a small kiss on her cheek. The moment he disappears she feels the return of that dreaded bitterness which she's become so well acquainted with over the past few weeks.