Eternal Silence
by Penelope Pagan June Sea Witch
Her absence is a scream. All your emotions amounted to a whimper next to that finality. And you did whimper some nights, unable to sleep, unable to be without her beside you. There was a impassable curtain between you now, a barrier that deftly cleaved away the pretense of unified singularity. You wonder if you’ll ever be whole again.
The idea that there was an end wasn’t new, you’ve feared ends your entire life. You clung to forever, staying in relationships too long, not changing jobs, trying to preserve the now, the moment, drawing it out like a last cigarette. It didn’t matter, the end came all the same. Even the subscription to your favorite magazine ended when the publisher went bankrupt.
But this, this was different. This was not the arguing and bitter resentment of a bad breakup. Nor was it the softening reverberations of a friendship forgotten. This was silence. A silence you begged for her break. A silence that would never end.
You contemplate this as you rot in bed. It’s well past noon, the sun’s rays drudging across your bedsheet from the gap in the shades. It was the only light you allowed in the room and even then it was because you couldn’t find it within to fix it. The bedchamber had become your premature tomb.
You hear a knock at your door. It’s insistent. The knocks beckoned to you, begged you to return, to leave your tomb and become human once again. It was futile. You had lost yourself and will not be returning.
Usually the knocks receded, leaving you to your circular vacuous thoughts, but today was different. Today the door exploded open, banging against the wall hard enough that the knob cratered into it. A man strode in, your husband you recognize, ostensively the love of your life, all proper pressed dress shirts and impeccable blond hair. A frown is formed on his sharp face, worry plain in his eyes.
He does adore you, you know that. That isn’t the problem. It’s how you feel about him thats the problem. You feel nothing as you drag your eyes across his masculine form, broad muscles accentuated by tailoring, strong hands with long supple fingers and a face made of high cheekbones. Any other woman would have been fine with this.
But you didn’t want him, you wanted her, wanted her soft pastel skin draped across your body. But that skin was no longer soft, no longer pastel. You reject those thoughts, the ones that are unhindered by longing, and just focus on what was, what could have been.
“Narcissa, it has been a week. I know the dark lord’s passing was unexpected but we can’t mourn now. So much has gone wrong, your sister has been captured, I need you by my side my love. I need you there so we can weather this storm and not be sent to Azkaban.” He murmured as he sat at the edge of the bed, rubbing his hand against your exposed leg.
You’re lucky, in a the blade missed any vital organs sort of way, that the Dark Lord had also died that day. You had clung to him when you had read the morning paper, two giant bold ones that had promised a future and three small ones that stole it from you. YOU-KNOW-WHO DEFEATED! Lily Potter Died.
The shock had spilt over into your magic, the finery and ornament of the tea room exploded and shattered, the shrapnel tearing and gouging once perfect skin. Your husband had come rushing in, thinking nothing of himself, only of you, shielding you against your own magic with his body. You clung to him. You were sure you would rip out chunks of his skin with your grip. You had never felt such a crushing weight of emotion and you needed him to steady you. Needed him to help you withstand the death of your lover.
“I miss you, so does Draco. He won’t stop asking after you.” Your husband continued. “I don’t want him to see you like this but he needs his mother. So, if by tomorrow you haven’t left your bed, we’ll visit you okay?”
His voice was soft and caring but your husband was still a Slytherin. You could see the ploy in his words, the emotional manipulation at work. It wouldn’t work though, you were beyond emotions, beyond pain. You were a star who had lost everything , collapsing into a black hole. A black hole that threatened to swallow your family, destroying it.
You husband sits with you for a while, continuing his gentle rubbing. You do not do anything. Your body is catatonic and your thoughts a whirlwind. You don’t notice when he leaves, nor the gentle decline and resurgence of the suns rays. You don’t even notice your body’s demands sustenance, rumbling and aching for your attention. So it is a surprise to you when a little body is suddenly there, nestling into you, making itself at home.
“Mama, you okay?” Asked Draco, in his high pitched babbling way. It’s different from what you’re used to, laced with a concern no two year old should have. It’s that concern that pulls you out of yourself, and your eyes finally focus, looking down into the face of your beautiful child.
He looked very much a mix between yourself and your husband. You couldn’t pretend he was the product of anything else. No, only her son carried her with him, just as yours carried you. It didn’t make you love Draco any less but it did make you think on what could have been. Silver hair and green eyes perhaps.
“I’m okay Draco. Just resting.” You lie in a voice that is unfamiliar. It’s strained and hoarse, uncertain of itself. Draco doesn’t seem to notice as just those words light up his face like a Christmas tree.
“Mama, dada said auntie Bella was sent away. I won’t see her no more. I thought you were sent away too.” Draco says in a rush, hugging close to your body as he does.
“I’m not going anywhere Draco, I will always be here for you. I love you.” You say as you wrap your arms around your child.
The only person you loved in this world. The only person you would protect and cherish. Lily was gone, but you still had something to live for. You just needed to be reminded of it.
“Draco, come along now, your mother needs her rest.” Came the voice of your husband from the door. Draco frowned but did as his father beckoned, clambering off the bed. In that moment it’s as of all the warmth of the world had left, and you find yourself teetering back into the black hole.
You push against it, struggling to find strength in your limbs as you lift your weight from the bed. Untangling yourself from the sheets and managing to get one foot onto the hard wood floor you call out
“No, I think I’m done resting. I’ll join you soon.”
The squeal of delight from your son sends warmth flooding into your heart. You are alive again.