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Sequel: Little Laughs ›
Little Memories
“Memories are contrary things; if you...turn your back on them, they often return on their own."
Charlotte stared out the barred windows of her small cell, wishing wistfully that she could have been put anywhere but where she was. She felt her body crying out for food and comfort, both of which were neglected in the wretched place. Her thoughts were blackened by the occasional passing dementor, replaying the horrors she had experienced over and over again. For some unbeknownst reason, she was becoming numb to the torment she went through. It scared her into believe that she was no longer human, just a shell of what she once was. She no longer felt much emotion besides neutrality. Lucius Malfoy could tell there was a difference within the week she had been there.
She would no longer speak to him to try and pass the hours. She would no longer touch the piece of bread and water that was given to her. She hadn’t looked away from the window in hours. She hadn’t moved from sitting against the wall in days. He was scared for her and for how this would affect his son. He knew that something had snapped within the young girl, but was unaware of what. Every time he asked her, she would make no inclination to answer. If he hadn’t been across from her cell, watching everything around him, he would have sworn she had been given the Dementor’s kiss. However, he knew that she hadn’t.
What little heart the man possessed went out to the girl. He knew how tough it was to make certain decisions and having to kill someone you didn’t know. He knew the internal battle between right and wrong and what it felt like to have someone wanting to kill you if you made a choice they didn’t like. He couldn’t imagine someone her age having done so much with so little emotion and not having it take it’s toll on her. He hoped that by the time his son and her were reunited that she would go back to being the way she had always been. If not, he feared for what would happen to her.
Charlotte blinked and looked away from the window finally, staring at her knobby, dirt-blackened knees. A sneer curled her delicate, feminine features as she stared down at the dirt on her body. She was filthy; inside and out. Once she was out of Azkaban, she could clean the filth on the outside and look clean once again. She would never be able to cleanse her filthy soul of what she had done, the heinous crimes she had committed toward humanity.
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides as she stared at the opposite wall, rage boiling within her and heating her frigid body. She had no choice but to become the way that she was. She hadn’t been given any pardon because of her age. She knew she had been seen as some sort of innocent, delicate thing when she first became a Death Eater. She was something corruptible and good and it was only too easy to change her into a foul beast and murderer. Sometimes, she liked the power that she felt while killing someone. She liked the fear that flashed in their eyes as they looked up at her. They always were surprised at the beautiful, innocent-looking angel who could cause them copious amounts of pain. However, the majority of the time, she loathed herself for not being brave enough to take her own life to save another.
Charlotte grit her teeth and tilted her head back, looking up at the ceiling with her normal, emotionless façade; the wrath within her not dissipating with her thoughts but only growing. Lucius heard the sharp expel of air through her nose and looked over to the girl, the tension growing within the tiny cell palpably weighing heavy in the air. The air around him suddenly chilled and the skin on his arms prickled and tingled with numbness, an unexplainable fear filled him. He knew what was coming, but noticed that Charlotte’s expression didn’t change and her eyes didn’t move from their fixation on the wall.
A rattling, sickly sounding breath echoed down the hallway, causing the grown man to shrink back against the wall. His thoughts turned sour and his face and body tensed slightly, preparing for what was about to happen. He heard the slight whipping of gauzy, black fabrics and the hollow sucking in of air and the rattle of it being expelled out. His joints gave protesting cracks and creaks as his coiled closer to the wall as his breath turned to steam in front of him. Charlotte still hadn’t moved as the dementor drew closer, despite the fact the temperature was on a steady decline. Lucius Malfoy’s thoughts suddenly grew sorrowful and tormented; flashing of his rocky childhood, the day he was sent to Azkaban, the day students at Hogwarts teased him about his cauldron backfiring on him.
The dementor passed in front of the adjacent cells, feeding solely off of the thoughts of Lucius, because Charlotte had sanctioned off her thoughts and emotions before the dementor had began its pass through the corridor of cells. The ghastly being stopped and slowly turned to Charlotte, as if it knew that she had become wise to it’s ways. She didn’t turn her eyes to the dementor, but merely stared off at the wall. By then, she had completely pushed back her anger and felt nothing but the cold, numbness that surrounded her.
Angrily, yet fluidly, the dementor began to reach it’s heavily bandaged hands through the bars of her cell, wanting to cause her pain and displeasure. Charlotte slowly turned her eyes to the being, not moving her head or any other part of her body. Her haunted, hollow, and emotionless eyes locked on it and she felt nothing. The dementor clawed the tips of it’s fingers at the girl, yet she sat far enough so that she was out of it’s reach. It gurgled and gasped angrily, making a few frantic swipes at Charlotte as she stared back at it fearlessly.
The dementor lingered there, much to Lucius’ dismay, trying to get a grasp on the girl that it couldn’t find any sort of despair or sadness from her. She merely stared at it’s eyeless face and it’s skeletal features, no life what-so-ever on the girl’s face. It confused the creature, yet interested it all the same. The other inmates at Azkaban cowered in terror whenever the creature passed by, but not her. She had a different sort of emotion, a different sort of aura around her. Finally, the dementor gave up and floated away hastily, tired of expending itself for the sake of one measly, wasteful girl.
Lucius let out a breath of relief when the dementor passed far enough that he didn’t feel it’s icy presence anymore and looked over at Charlotte with a baffled expression. She had returned to staring at the spot on the wall, her body motionless spare her breathing in and out. She hadn’t moved an inch since the dementor came and hadn’t made a noise in days. The fear he had for the girl turned into confusion. With a past as haunted as hers, she should have buckled under the nasty thoughts the dementor could put into her mind.
An Auror passed by at that moment, placing their meager meals and murky water into their cells with a flick of a wand. Lucius waited a few moments before reaching down to grab the slice of bread. He ate in silence, occasionally glancing over to the brittle-looking girl to see if she had moved at all. When he had finished eating and drinking, he wasn’t surprised to see that she hadn’t moved an inch. He cleared his dry, scratchy throat and stared at her for a few moments before drawing in a deep breath of air.
“Charlotte, what was that with the dementor?” He asked in a pathetically weak voice. The air around them hung still and Charlotte remained silently, her eyes fixed upon the wall in front of her. He let a few minutes pass before he gathered the courage to ask the girl again, fearing what the answer would be if she would give it to him,.
He asked in a voice that was so quiet it could have been mistaken for a whisper, “What was that?”
Yet again, the man was met with a silence that chilled him worse than the passing of a dementor.
She would no longer speak to him to try and pass the hours. She would no longer touch the piece of bread and water that was given to her. She hadn’t looked away from the window in hours. She hadn’t moved from sitting against the wall in days. He was scared for her and for how this would affect his son. He knew that something had snapped within the young girl, but was unaware of what. Every time he asked her, she would make no inclination to answer. If he hadn’t been across from her cell, watching everything around him, he would have sworn she had been given the Dementor’s kiss. However, he knew that she hadn’t.
What little heart the man possessed went out to the girl. He knew how tough it was to make certain decisions and having to kill someone you didn’t know. He knew the internal battle between right and wrong and what it felt like to have someone wanting to kill you if you made a choice they didn’t like. He couldn’t imagine someone her age having done so much with so little emotion and not having it take it’s toll on her. He hoped that by the time his son and her were reunited that she would go back to being the way she had always been. If not, he feared for what would happen to her.
Charlotte blinked and looked away from the window finally, staring at her knobby, dirt-blackened knees. A sneer curled her delicate, feminine features as she stared down at the dirt on her body. She was filthy; inside and out. Once she was out of Azkaban, she could clean the filth on the outside and look clean once again. She would never be able to cleanse her filthy soul of what she had done, the heinous crimes she had committed toward humanity.
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides as she stared at the opposite wall, rage boiling within her and heating her frigid body. She had no choice but to become the way that she was. She hadn’t been given any pardon because of her age. She knew she had been seen as some sort of innocent, delicate thing when she first became a Death Eater. She was something corruptible and good and it was only too easy to change her into a foul beast and murderer. Sometimes, she liked the power that she felt while killing someone. She liked the fear that flashed in their eyes as they looked up at her. They always were surprised at the beautiful, innocent-looking angel who could cause them copious amounts of pain. However, the majority of the time, she loathed herself for not being brave enough to take her own life to save another.
Charlotte grit her teeth and tilted her head back, looking up at the ceiling with her normal, emotionless façade; the wrath within her not dissipating with her thoughts but only growing. Lucius heard the sharp expel of air through her nose and looked over to the girl, the tension growing within the tiny cell palpably weighing heavy in the air. The air around him suddenly chilled and the skin on his arms prickled and tingled with numbness, an unexplainable fear filled him. He knew what was coming, but noticed that Charlotte’s expression didn’t change and her eyes didn’t move from their fixation on the wall.
A rattling, sickly sounding breath echoed down the hallway, causing the grown man to shrink back against the wall. His thoughts turned sour and his face and body tensed slightly, preparing for what was about to happen. He heard the slight whipping of gauzy, black fabrics and the hollow sucking in of air and the rattle of it being expelled out. His joints gave protesting cracks and creaks as his coiled closer to the wall as his breath turned to steam in front of him. Charlotte still hadn’t moved as the dementor drew closer, despite the fact the temperature was on a steady decline. Lucius Malfoy’s thoughts suddenly grew sorrowful and tormented; flashing of his rocky childhood, the day he was sent to Azkaban, the day students at Hogwarts teased him about his cauldron backfiring on him.
The dementor passed in front of the adjacent cells, feeding solely off of the thoughts of Lucius, because Charlotte had sanctioned off her thoughts and emotions before the dementor had began its pass through the corridor of cells. The ghastly being stopped and slowly turned to Charlotte, as if it knew that she had become wise to it’s ways. She didn’t turn her eyes to the dementor, but merely stared off at the wall. By then, she had completely pushed back her anger and felt nothing but the cold, numbness that surrounded her.
Angrily, yet fluidly, the dementor began to reach it’s heavily bandaged hands through the bars of her cell, wanting to cause her pain and displeasure. Charlotte slowly turned her eyes to the being, not moving her head or any other part of her body. Her haunted, hollow, and emotionless eyes locked on it and she felt nothing. The dementor clawed the tips of it’s fingers at the girl, yet she sat far enough so that she was out of it’s reach. It gurgled and gasped angrily, making a few frantic swipes at Charlotte as she stared back at it fearlessly.
The dementor lingered there, much to Lucius’ dismay, trying to get a grasp on the girl that it couldn’t find any sort of despair or sadness from her. She merely stared at it’s eyeless face and it’s skeletal features, no life what-so-ever on the girl’s face. It confused the creature, yet interested it all the same. The other inmates at Azkaban cowered in terror whenever the creature passed by, but not her. She had a different sort of emotion, a different sort of aura around her. Finally, the dementor gave up and floated away hastily, tired of expending itself for the sake of one measly, wasteful girl.
Lucius let out a breath of relief when the dementor passed far enough that he didn’t feel it’s icy presence anymore and looked over at Charlotte with a baffled expression. She had returned to staring at the spot on the wall, her body motionless spare her breathing in and out. She hadn’t moved an inch since the dementor came and hadn’t made a noise in days. The fear he had for the girl turned into confusion. With a past as haunted as hers, she should have buckled under the nasty thoughts the dementor could put into her mind.
An Auror passed by at that moment, placing their meager meals and murky water into their cells with a flick of a wand. Lucius waited a few moments before reaching down to grab the slice of bread. He ate in silence, occasionally glancing over to the brittle-looking girl to see if she had moved at all. When he had finished eating and drinking, he wasn’t surprised to see that she hadn’t moved an inch. He cleared his dry, scratchy throat and stared at her for a few moments before drawing in a deep breath of air.
“Charlotte, what was that with the dementor?” He asked in a pathetically weak voice. The air around them hung still and Charlotte remained silently, her eyes fixed upon the wall in front of her. He let a few minutes pass before he gathered the courage to ask the girl again, fearing what the answer would be if she would give it to him,.
He asked in a voice that was so quiet it could have been mistaken for a whisper, “What was that?”
Yet again, the man was met with a silence that chilled him worse than the passing of a dementor.
♠ ♠ ♠
So, I feel like crap. My paranoia is getting the best of me and putting this block on my creativity. Hopefully, something good will happen soon, because, honestly, I haven't done anything to deserve...this ick.I would like to thank:
THxFan
roses4ever21
ScReAmInGoNtHeInSiDe
Brad Sorenson.
SouthernGirl.
and lojomegs
for commenting on the last chapter.
Love,
Bree.
PS. It's Tom Felton's 23rd birthday today. I forgot he was only three years older than me. AND, I got a wig for my halloween costume. Gaga for the win.