Little Memories

“I’ll go inform Severus of Charlotte’s arrival and implore him to brew up something that would at least cure her until after the gathering tomorrow,” Lucius finally spoke after staring at the door for a while. His tired eyes looked over at Draco, who wore a slightly apprehensive expression. “If the Dark Lord sees Charlotte in such a condition, he…he,” he paused for a moment, collecting his words, “he may see her as a burden for the moment and decide that he should be rid of her.” Draco felt like his stomach had filled with lead, but he forced himself to nod numbly.

Lucius placed a hand on his shoulder for a moment, studying his son closely and taking in all that had changed within a year, before sighing heavily.

“She’s not going to be the same Charlotte you knew, Draco. Something happened in Azkaban to her and she hasn’t spoken a word to me in a week or two. Hopefully, she’ll speak to you, if she won’t speak to anyone else,” he said before disappearing down the hallway. Draco merely stared at his back, noticing that his father was limping slightly. He bit his bottom lip and drew in a deep breath of air before turning to the door his mother and Charlotte had disappeared behind. He could his mother’s soft voice speaking, yet no reply from Charlotte. Draco then her soft footsteps and a door further into the room shut gently, then the sound of running water. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to hear if they were having a conversation because of the fact they were so far away and that they were drawing a bath. He let out a heavy sigh, resting his forehead against the door before biting his bottom lip even harder. He pushed away from the door and made his way down the stairs, intently on fetching some house elves to help him with the idea he had come up with.

Charlotte sat in the warm, bubbling bath in the grandeur bathroom, feeling every inch of her body slowly starting to relax. The bath warmed her cold skin and the humidity from it soothed some of the congestion in her chest. Narcissa sat in a chair at the vanity, far enough for Charlotte to feel like she still had her own personal space, but to keep a watchful eye on her lest her condition take a turn for the worse. In any other situation, Charlotte would have protested completely, thinking it odd to have someone that wasn’t her mother watching her as she bathed. However, she knew that she probably wouldn’t be able to get out of the bath herself and that Mrs. Malfoy was only trying to help her.

“Draco’s been beside himself without you, Charlotte,” she said softly as Charlotte began to splash the water and bubbles against her skin. Narcissa paused, hoping the girl would make some sort of inclination to reply, but she merely continued to stare ahead blankly. “Would you like it if he stayed with you for a while after your bath?” Charlotte’s eyes flickered to Mrs. Malfoy, hoping that would be as much of an answer as she needed. “I’m sure it’d be good for the both of you.” Charlotte looked away and slid under the water before resurfacing again, letting out a few, hollow coughs. She ran her hands over her face, washing the dirt and soot from it weakly. She then leaned forward and took a hair brush off of a shelf in front of her and began to try and pick the knots out of her hair.

Charlotte gave the ends of her hair, two lifeless brushes, before the brush slipped from her weak fingertips and fell into the bathtub. She blinked a couple of times, her nostrils flaring and her jaw clenching out of anger for herself, before she pulled the brush out of the water and placing it back on the shelf, grabbing a washcloth and beginning to clean her skin. Narcissa, sensing that she was getting angry with herself, stood from the chair and walked over to the bath and grabbed the brush.

“Is it alright if I try and brush out your hair?” She asked gently, trying to keep back the tears. Charlotte looked over at her for a moment before nodding and looking down to the water. Narcissa felt like crying for the girl, knowing how she would feel if she no longer had the strength to do things for herself. She had a feeling that Charlotte was a lot like herself; very self-reliant, stubborn, and proud. She understood how it would feel if she had to have some woman have to brush her hair for her, and decided that she would keep this confidential. Narcissa bit her bottom lip and tried to gently run the brush down the tangled strands of hair, hearing it snag on the stubborn knots that basically dreadlocked her hair. She knelt beside the side of the tub for twenty silent minutes before realizing that Charlotte’s hair would never become untangled.

“Charlotte,” she paused, clearing her throat, “I…think we may have to cut your hair. I can’t seem to get it untangled.” Charlotte, who had been scrubbing the dirt out from underneath her fingernails, paused and looked over at the woman. She drew in a breath of air, her lips pursing for a moment, before she nodded and looked away. Narcissa placed the brush to the side before pulling her wand out from her robe pocket. She then took the tangled strands of Charlotte’s hair into her hand and silently began twirl her wand, silently cutting the golden strands of hair.

Draco stood outside the door, struggling to balance the tray of food that he had cooked himself--with the watchful eye of a few house elves--and trying to knock on the door without knocking over the glass of orange juice. It took him at least forty-five minutes to cook all that he did, and he didn’t want his hard work splattered on the ground. He eventually managed to rap his knuckles confidently against the door without knocking the contents of the tray over.

“You may come in,” his mother said softly. Draco pulled open the door and closed it behind him, without managing to look at the bed or at Charlotte. He turned from facing the door and looked over to the bed, in complete awe of what he saw. Her hair was exactly like it had been cut in his dream; it was damp, yet styled in neat waves that fell just past her cheekbones. She looked better now that she was lying back against pillows and washed, but her eyes still looked as lifeless as ever as she stared down at the blankets that covered her. Draco could see that the clean pajamas she wore swallowed her whole, while before she would have filled them out.

“Charlotte wants you to stay in her with her for a while, Draco,” his mother said softly as she gently brushed through the freshly shorn strands of Charlotte’s hair.

“So she spoke to you,” Draco asked hopefully, looking over at his mother. She looked up from brushing Charlotte’s hair suddenly and gave Draco a look, shaking her head without Charlotte managing to see. She placed the brush aside as Draco walked over to the bed, balancing the tray carefully.

“I’ll go see if your father needs anything,” Narcissa said softly before leaving the room quickly. Draco bit his bottom lip as he lowered himself to the bed where his mother had previously been sitting, placing the tray of warm food on Charlotte’s lap. Silence lingered between the two of them, as Charlotte looked down to the tray, her eyes slowly moving over the items on it.

“I cooked this myself,” he said softly, his heart racing just from having her so close to him. It had seemed like years to him without her, and he was still in slight disbelief that she actually sat beside him. He could hear how labored her breathing was and he could feel the shakes her body was giving off from pure weakness. She looked down at the food, blinking a couple of times as she took it all in before looking over at Draco.

He looked nearly exactly as she had remembered him, spare the rings of pure exhaustion under his eyes. He was watching her closely, his eyes slowly moving over her face and she felt as though he was picking apart everything that had changed about her. It hurt her to have to cut her hair; her long, gorgeous hair that she had taken such pride in. It hurt for her to have shut herself down like she did, because she didn’t know if she would be able to turn her emotions back on or speak again.

“You need to eat, Charlotte,” Draco spoke softly, tentatively and hesitantly reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, but since it was so short it slid forward and back onto her cheek. She looked up at him with those dead eyes of her and Draco watched closely before he looked down to the plate and took a fork-full of eggs with it. “I’ll feed you myself if I have to,” he said resolutely, “you’ll never get better if you don’t eat.”

Charlotte watched him silently with those hollow eyes of him, feeling something swelling within her as she stared at him. Draco watched as her nostril flared and tears quietly tumbled down her cheeks. He took in a breath as he watched her cry, glad that she was showing some emotion around him even if she was crying. With trembling fingertips, she wiped away the tears before looking back up at Draco, feeling quite bashful about having to be told to eat something. She stared at him for a few silent moments, then down to the fork in his hands, before opening her mouth slightly. Draco took the initiative and gently began to feed her.

The minutes that passed were filled with a deafening silence to Draco, since Charlotte hadn’t spoken or made any other noise but to cough and struggle for air. Eventually, Charlotte ate all that Draco had fixed and he placed the tray to the side. He looked back at her for a moment, hesitantly reaching out and taking her hand in his. Her skin felt cold and rough against his, and as he clamped his hand around hers, he could feel every dainty bone and ligament in it. A thought suddenly dawned on him and he looked up at Charlotte with a small grin.

“I’ve got something of yours that needs to be returned. I’ll be right back,” he said before standing and quickly leaving the room. Charlotte watched his back as he left, knowing that it bothered him that she had gone completely silent and emotionless. As she stared at the door, waiting for him to come back, she knew that she’d eventually have to speak to someone, and she wanted that to be Draco. But with the condition that she was in, she doubted she had a voice left to speak with. Vaguely, she had heard Lucius speaking with Draco about getting Severus Snape to help, but she didn’t know how quick the Potions Master, murderer of Albus Dumbledore, would get to the Malfoy Manor.

Draco quickly returned to the room and to his place beside Charlotte. Gently, he took her hand before clasping the charm bracelet he had given her around her wrist. He then looked up into her eyes with a small smile, one that the sickly girl did not return.

“I kept it safe, just like you wanted me to,” he said softly, hoping to incite some sort of reaction from her. Charlotte merely stared at him, her mouth a thin, harsh line and her eyes burning into his. He remained silent for a while, the smile slipping from his lips as he thought through exactly what he should say. Draco drew in a breath of air, taking her hand in his again and threading his fingers through hers. “Are you happy to be back?” He asked, gently gripping her brittle-feeling hand in his. Charlotte watched him for a moment before slowly shaking her head. His brow furrowed at her answer and he quickly tried to gather his thoughts at what she was trying to say.

Charlotte quickly knew that her simple shake of the head could be interpreted as many answers and that Draco would take it that she wasn’t happy to see him. That wasn’t the case at all and she knew that she had to try and explain things to him to the best of her abilities. Slowly, she lifted their tangled hands to the still coarse skin on her neck, where the cursed necklace she once worn had burned into her skin. Draco’s eyes darted over the naked and scarred skin of her neck before looking back up at her frantically.

“Where did you put the necklace, Charlotte?” He asked, knowing how grave this situation could be if the necklace didn’t return before the gathering that day. Charlotte merely shook her head and looked away from him, curling in her dry, cracked lips as she tried to keep from crying. “Did you give it to someone until you got out of Azkaban?” He asked, wanted to get the necklace back on her as soon as possible. Charlotte’s eyes darted over to him and she nodded slowly, having almost a guilty look on her face. “Well…who has it?” Charlotte looked away from him suddenly, her eyes regaining their dead, emotionless gaze. “Did…” Draco’s mind swam with all the possible people she could have given the necklace to. “Did you give it to Severus?” Charlotte quickly shook her head, her eyes still not meeting his. “Did you give it to Aunt Bellatrix?” Charlotte quickly shot him a look that told him she certainly didn’t.

Draco let out a sharp sigh and stared again, knowing that they only had a few hours to get that necklace back or Charlotte very well may not survive the gathering. Charlotte gave a shaky breath of air and gained Draco’s attention. She was watching him closely and he could tell from the look she was giving him that she both wanted to tell him and didn’t want to tell him anything at the same time.

“Please, Charlie,” he pleaded softly, staring carefully at her, “who did you give the locket to?” He watched as her lips slowly parted and she drew in a deep breath of air before turning her head and coughing in the opposite direction. She turned back to him, once she had finished and slowly leaned over to his ear, knowing it wouldn’t be safe if she spoke the name too loud. Draco’s skin tingled with the feeling of her breath as he relished the feeling of having her near.

She then spoke the two names that he never, ever wanted to hear her speak, because he knew that with those two words, she had sealed her fate. Those words floated into his ear like a deathly winter breeze and chilled him to the core. She had leaned over to him and whispered the name of his nemesis, the reason that the war needed to be in the first place, the Boy-Who-Lived: “Harry Potter”.