UNLEASH | D.M (UNRAVEL BOOK 6)

[ 04 ]

When the evening meeting was concluded at long last, the Dark Lord and his Deatheaters dispersed away. What remained was only Nagini devouring Charity Burbage; a horrifying scene that not many would gladly want to stay behind to watch the gruesome feasting of a dead person being torn flesh by flesh, part by part until there was nothing left.

Though many of the Deatheaters were famous criminals who had probably hurt or killed someone before in their lives, not many could stomach watching the gore and gut-wrenching scene.

Aine parted ways with the Malfoys soon after. Lucius shot her a look full of disdain and malice when he saw his son with her. Without sparing another moment for the Estoileons, he turned his heels and scampered away; having been utterly humiliated this evening. Narcissa muttered a small apology for her husband's cold attitude before excusing herself with Draco as they needed to oversee some other matters in their home.

She returned to her room to be away from all of the prying eyes and screaming minds of the leftover Deatheaters in the manor. The whisperings from the portrait on the walls of the corridors grew once more as she passed them all, the light from the main hall slowly dwindling away as she lurked deeper into the passageways to her chambers. However, the murmurings of all the dead people continued until she reached the door of her room.

When Aine first started living in the room that Draco and Narcissa had prepared for her, she could always hear the portraits speak in a hushed voice, like they were conversing in secret— Though she could always hear what they were all saying. One word that she would often hear them say whenever she strolled by them was 'Death', and when she looked at the paintings on the wall, they would immediately shut up and pretend that they couldn't speak or move in the first place.

Thankfully, Aine had learnt to barricade the voices from outside her room, soundproofing the outside world since it wouldn't work the other way around. No doubt arranged by her father so that he could keep her in check so she wouldn't be planning anything foolish. It wasn't his home, nor the Deatheaters but that didn't stop him from wanting to control her, even in the most insignificant and childish manner. He liked to repeat how he had her in his palms after all, that she was his pawn, child, and only heir. That everything she was, was his.

Her mind was constantly in chaos, with voices ringing every now and then. The voices in her head were more compared to her time in Hogwarts; voices she had recognized and didn't. Most of the time, they were muffled with inaudible mumblings, speaking in tongues she couldn't understand, crying, yelling, screaming or just whispering. They would range from being painstakingly annoying to utterly heartwrenching. But above everything, she could feel like they were all desperate; reaching for someone to hear them.

And although she was used to hearing all of the voices and could somehow live without getting overwhelmed, with all of the commotions in her head, she didn't need the additional unnecessary upheaval from them too. At least not in her room which was the only place she found solitude besides her brother's or Draco's who both had the same enchantment placed.

"Was that really necessary?" Aion asks his sister as soon as the door to her room closes. He leans on the wooden panel and places one hand on his hips while the other runs through his ash-blonde locks that had grown to his shoulders. He was frustrated, unable to understand why Aine was complying with the Dark Lord's orders. It wasn't new, but he was surprised when she accepted his requests so quickly than he thought.

"Let it be, brother..." Aine grumbles, waving him to forget about how she acted earlier in the drawing room. It was essential to have her father owe her a favour, especially when she already had plans on how she would use it. 

She briskly walked towards the full-length windows and pushed the doors open for the evening wind to come in. The sheer curtains danced as the crispy breeze that wandered in cooled her lungs and she fluttered her eyes close for a moment to take in the fleeting peace. Then she approached the basket of chamomile flowers she had harvested earlier, gathering a handful of the petite flowers into a metal basin, cleansing it as her brother looked at her behind with a crestfallen expression.