Little Memories

About an hour and a half into the party, bottles had been finished and everyone, spare Melody and Daphne, were feeling a light buzz. Draco and Charlotte were by far the most drunk, both of them easily knocking back shots of firewhiskey and vodka. They were visibly wasted, their eyes half-lidded and tired-looking, their bodies slow to react, their actions clumsy, and their speech highly slurred. It was apparent that both of them wanted to forget something, yet no one but Theodore, Jackson, and Gregory knew what. However, their actions wouldn’t be stopped. It was Charlotte’s birthday after all.

“Charlie,” Theodore whispered in her ear as he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, letting his chin rest on her shoulder as she easily downed a shot of vodka. She was holding her drinks like a pro; meaning, she hadn’t dropped a bottle, glass, or goblet of liquor yet. “Slow down, love, or you won’t be able to open your presents.” Charlotte let out a snort of bitter laughter, leaning back against Theodore, her numb body loving the heat that he provided her.

“Ah, I’ll open them later,” she relied, her words slurring heavily as she leaned her head back onto his shoulder, staring up at him with a lazy, lopsided grin. Theodore’s brow furrowed as he slowly looked over her face, noticing she was swaying a bit in his arms. He sighed heavily and placed his drink down on the table in front of them and easily spun her around slowly in his arms. He looked over her face yet again, slowly taking in her inebriated state. Her cheeks were flushed a bright pink and her eyes were unfocused despite the fact she was looking directly at him

“But you won’t be able to enjoy your party if you get drunk,” he said softly, cupping her feverish cheeks in his hands. He already figured she was drunk, but it was worth a try if she would stop drinking. So much alcohol in her thin, lithe frame would not be a good combination. Charlotte pouted dramatically and pressed her finger to the tip of his nose.

“Oh, shut up, I’m fine,” she murmured, still slurring and swaying in his arms. “You’re not my mum. My mum doesn’t care.” Theodore tried to kiss her cheek and Charlotte, having none of it, lifelessly shoved his face away, slithering remarkably gracefully from his arms with scoff. Her eyes turned to Draco and Daphne, who were canoodling on a black, leather love seat. Daphne was practically sitting on Draco, but he looked like he wasn’t having any of it. He wasn’t having much of anything else other than his drink. Charlotte swaying a bit on the spot before glancing over at Jackson and Crabbe. They were chatting lazily on the couch, both of them a bit buzzed, occasionally sipping their drinks. They seemed happy enough with her party and it pleased Charlotte for the moment.

Her hazy blue eyes then looked over to Gregory and Melody, who were slow dancing over in a quieter part of the room to the quiet, slow, big band music. They were staring into each other’s eyes lovingly, broad smiles on their faces. A dramatic frown curled the angelic girl’s lips, a short, small hum escaping her throat. They were so in love, so carefree in that moment and she wanted what they had. She was in love, yes, but she had ruined it all with her anger and will for revenge.

“Merry Christmas, everybody,” the girl slurred glumly as she grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey and stumbled from the room. The old grandfather clock in the grandiose, purple tapestry, mahogany, and stone foyer chimed slowly and exactly twelve times, letting the girl know it was now Christmas Day. She stumbled a bit on the first couple of stairs she vaulted, the liquid in the half-empty bottle in her hand sloshing around a bit. She managed to make it up the stairs without tripping, pausing for a moment once she reached the landing. With her muddled senses, she vaguely heard someone following her up the stairs, but was too drunk and lazy to turn and look to see who it was.

Her heels clicked unsteadily up the spiral staircase and secret passage to her room, just as unsteady footsteps still following behind her. She grunted a bit when she collided with the wall, yet continued to walk. Her bare arm scraped uncomfortably against the rocky wall. She was so numbed by the alcohol coursing through her veins that she didn’t care about the pain. She just wanted to be in her room and drink away Christmas. By the time she reached her wing of the castle, she had nearly turned around and snarled some sort of half-witted insult at the feet following her, but she was just too drunk to care.

She threw open the door to her room, her black spots appearing in her vision. The fire roared to life in the fireplace, magically enchanted to ignite whenever there was a being in the room. Charlotte carelessly kicked her heels across the room and stumbled over to her bed, knowing she needed to reach it before she hit the ground. It seemed like her world had tilted on her side and that last shot of vodka did nothing to help her. Her head was swimming in and out of being able to recognize what was going on and merely the feeling of numbness and thoughtlessness she had.

Her body hit the bed and all she knew was the cool sheets and blankets pressing against the side of her face. Charlotte lay there for a moment or two, her eyes unfocused and glancing around the room. Her breathing was a bit unregulated and her eyes felt tired and heavy. She flipped over onto her back and closed her eyes, the room suddenly stifling hot and humid. The door opened to her room and closed, but she didn’t even look to see who was walking through the door, she just wanted to be cold again.

Then, as if her wish had been granted, cool hands suddenly began to slide up her legs, easing across her fevered skin. A sigh escaped her lips, but she kept her eyes closed. She didn’t know if she had it in her to open them again. Those icy cold, ghostly hands slid up higher and higher up her legs, soothing her burning hot skin. The feeling of it was so wonderful and relaxing mixed with the mindlessness she felt with the alcohol in her system, that she slipped into a sort of limbo between consciousness and unconsciousness.

The rest of what happened came is brief, yet slow flashes to her. Those hands slid up her dress and lifted it over her head, exposing her naked body to the heat of the room. She felt another body hovering over hers, the fabric and fiber of their clothing brushing harshly against her bare skin. Her hands reached forward and grasped lifelessly at the clothes, at the person. Those hands skirted over her body once more, lips pressing against her neck and skin. Things went black for a moment and when she came to again, there was pressure all around her, pleasure formed in the pit of her stomach. Hands were gripping her hips hard, a bare body moving on top of hers. Somehow, in the back of her highly inebriated mind, she knew that she knew the body well, knew the smell. In any other situation, she would have killed the person, but she knew this was a person she had connected with before, had touched before, had loved before.

The rest was all feelings, sighs, and moans for her. And then, it all went black and she didn’t come to again for the longest time.

“C-Ch-Charlotte.” Someone in her room was sobbing, crying hysterically and somehow she could tell that the door was open. Her eyelids felt like they had tiny weights on either of them and couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. “Charlotte, y-you’ve got to get up.” Her eyes slowly pried themselves open at the desperation in the voice. The blankets were pulled up around her chin, a familiar blonde head of hair resting on her shoulder. Her head was screaming at her and her mind was still a bit fuzzy. Standing at the foot of the bed was her brother, sobbing and crying harder than she had ever seen him cry before.

“Something’s happened,” he breathed as he slowly crossed the room and gathered a robe for his sister, “yo-you’ve got to come down to the foyer.” The man beside her stirred slightly, his icy blue eyes finally opening and gazing lazily around her room. Gregory extended the robe to her looking in the opposite direction. Charlotte frowned a bit and sat up, gaining her bearings for a moment, before wrapping the robes around her body. As she stood, Gregory grasped her arm as Draco slowly stirred from the bed. “Draco…you better get d-down there as so-soon as you can,” he murmured before he left the room.

“Gregory, what’s wrong?” Charlotte finally asked, her throat raw and her voice hoarse from all the alcohol she ingested. Gregory merely shook his head, his bottom lip quivering as more tears spilled down his cheeks. Charlotte quickly sobered up, staring intently at her brother as they stepped down the spiral staircase from the secret passageway to her room. “Gregory, what’s wrong?” She asked slowly and in a low voice, her heart thudding hard in her chest.

“It’s…bad,” he said, his voice going hollow with the last word as he continued to cry. The sound of bare feet slapping against stone echoed behind them as Draco tried to catch up with them. Charlotte’s mind was far from what had happened the night before, whatever anger or regret pushed aside at the sight of a hysterical Gregory. There was no more animosity between the two, no arguing or fighting. She knew something was seriously wrong and everything was forgotten but the distress of her older brother.

As they entered the foyer, Charlotte looked down from the landing, onto the two bodies laid out on the stone floor. A gasp escaped the girl’s lips as Gregory let out a sob. She immediately bolted down the stairs without the help of her brother’s arm and stopped beside the smaller of the two. They were both wearing silver, Death Eater’s masks but they had been gouged, busted, and blackened by some unknown means. The floor around them was wet, as if they had been underwater for a prolonged period of time. Their hands were clasped together, but very loosely. Charlotte had a good idea of who was on the foyer floor, but she refused to believe it. Tears welled up in the young woman’s eyes as she looked up to her brother, shaking her head slowly. He merely swallowed hard, not saying a word.

With shaking fingers, she reached forward and pulled the mask off of the smaller body. And, just for that moment, the young woman’s world stopped as she let out a blood-curdling, bone-chilling scream, the dead, cold face of her mother staring directly back at her. The scream echoed long after she had finished through the halls of the Goyle Castle, her brother’s sobs only growing louder. By now, Draco had entered the room, staring at the sight before him with wide eyes full of disbelief. She drew in a ragged gasp of air, sobs immediately grasping hold of the thin, frail-looking girl.

“No! No! NO!” The girl cried, crawling over to the larger body and ripping off that mask, only to find her father lying beside her mother. They were gone. They were gone and they weren’t ever going to come back. Charlotte and Gregory Goyle were now completely alone in the world. She took in a few frantic gasps of air, shaking her head as pearl-sized tears dripped down her cheeks. Then, as if her brain had been getting too much oxygen or from the shock of what lay before her, she blacked out, collapsing to the floor in between her dead mother and father.