kalon ~ d.m

{41} These bloody thoughts

CHAPTER FOURTY ONE; THESE BLOODY THOUGHTS

❝ may i see that letter, mother? ❞

♫:'there was a time this guy- he tried to tell me, men can cheat women cant.' ~Bea Miller, THAT BITCH

A person who thinks all the time, has nothing to think about except thoughts. So, they lose touch with reality. Through excessive thinking, they lose sight of what is real, and what is not. What is reality? Obviously, no one can say, because it isn't words. It isn't material, that's just an idea. Reality is-

The point can not be explained in words.

It's an expression of you as you are.

One must live, to go on.

We must go on.

She heaved a deep sigh as she closed her notebook. Her gaze drifted away in the sun drenched landscape, admiring the yellow gold tints that accentuated the flowers and trees in the field that laid around the house. She stood up from her comfortable position on the couch, slightly shivering when she no longer felt the warmth of the blanket that she'd draped over herself, continuing her journey, she walked towards the kitchen-and heated some water. She'd been craving chamomile all day.

Warm tea cup in hand, she slouched towards the bookshelf that stood against the wall of the living room. She ran her free hand overtop the dusty wooden plank, which was labelled 'non magical' perhaps she'd find something she hadn't read yet. She doubted it strongly, seeing the fact that spending weeks on end, by herself, left her with a lot of free time, most of which she spent reading. After a slight bit of contemplation, she carefully drew a familiar book from the shelf and sat down on the couch again, quickly wiggling back to her original spot, that luckily for her, still held some warmth.

She'd stopped counting the weeks she spent in the house. She was left to fend for herself, and she could do it. She was holding up alright. She had to hold up. Otherwise all of his efforts would have been for nothing. She couldn't allow that to happen. More often than not, her thoughts drifted away to him. The way he frowned when he was confused, or irritated. How messy his snow-like hair was when he woke up. The smile he'd give her when he wanted to encourage her. The hints of amusement in his voice when she embarrassed herself. The huskiness of his voice in the morning. His affectionate side. The little kisses. He'd leave them anywhere. On her forehead, cheek, or the tip of her nose. Just to make sure she knew he was there.

She felt guilt. It ate at her. While he was in the middle of a war, she sat in peace in a safe house. It made her feel useless. She felt like she was running away from her duties, which in reality- she was. However, every time she weighed out her options, she came back to the fact that Draco had gone through, and was probably still going through so much trouble to even allow this to happen. That didn't change the fact that she missed him. She missed him dearly. She yearned to be in his arms again. She'd sit in the couch, sometimes for days at once, wearing a sweater of his, pretending that he was just going to walk through the front door. That he would come back to her. Though she knew very well, that he would not. Not yet.

He had promised her that he would come and get her once it was safe again. And she could tell by the look in his eyes that he wished for safety to come soon. That he too, couldn't bare being apart. That he too, felt incomplete without her by his side. Nearly three months they'd been together every second. Discovered more of each other than they ever thought possible. On all aspects.

A slight smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she heard familiar scratching against the window. A beautiful owl flew in front of the window, and she let it in gladly, catching the letter it dropped in her hands, following the owl as it flew towards the kitchen. She sat proudly, waiting for the treat she knew was coming. Leah scoffed and shook her head amusedly. Even the Malfoy's bloody owl had a prideful attitude. She fed it a treat and carefully ripped open the envelope, gently taking out the letter.

She read it through thoroughly, making sure that she had read everything, before smiling, a slight, content sigh leaving her lips. She decided to go against his wishes- and hoped he wouldn't be too cross with her. Simply, she scribbled:

'I love you,
Always.'

She handed the letter to the owl, petting it gently. "Off you go." She encouraged softly, opening the window again. The owl's wings fluttered as she flew out of the window, leaving into the night. And again, she was alone.

[⌁]

"Draco?" His mother's voice called out gently, her voice a tad tone warmer than it usually was. "There's a letter for you." He looked up from the pictures he was holding, his face sullen, dark lines that settled in his skin, gesturing towards an indifferent lack of sleep. Light shone through the slight opening of the door, where Narcissa stood. "Draco?.." She said again, now stepping into the room fully, walking towards him, extending her arm to hand him the letter.

"Thanks mother." He muttered out gravelly, his eyes again fixated on the pictures. She laid her hand on his shoulder, following his sorrowful gaze.

"Those are wonderful.." She smiled gently. "You should frame them-or craft them into a picture book."

"Cou-" His voice trailed off, and he took a very deep breath. "Could you help me?" His face seemed a little less sad. "It could be a present...for her." He smiled slightly.

"Of course. She'll love it." He turned his head.

"May I see that letter, mother?" She nodded curtly, handing him the piece of paper. He opened it eagerly, and Narcissa Malfoy rose an eyebrow as she could see her son's face brighten with happiness. Hope.

"What does it say?"

"Just a reminder of something I already knew." He replied briefly, and it seemed that a full smile had permanently broken through his sullen facade.

[⌁]

She had reluctantly stood up from her place in the couch, putting aside the book that she'd been holding in her lap. The doorbell rang. But, how could it have? She was in the middle of nowhere, and the house was charmed to be hidden from muggles-unless...

She peaked through the window in the kitchen, from which she had a view on the front door. "Fuck." She breathed out, rushing to the hiding room. The door closed behind her just in time, as she heard the front door blast open. Multiple pairs of footsteps sounded through the rooms of the house she'd been staying in. She cringed as she heard them trash the rooms, as they pulled all of the books from the shelf, and threw around the plates, mugs and cups as if they were some sort of quaffle.

Convinced that they had left, she let out a slight, relieved sigh. It was replaced by a fearful whimper as the wall came down in front of her eyes. Bombarda Maxima. She yelped in pain as she felt her leg had been torn open with the impact. Her vision was blurry, and her ears ringed. She saw a black dress, and she followed it up with her eyes. She recognised the witch instantly, and prayed to Salazar that this was a nightmare.

"Did you think we wouldn't find you, dearie?"