White Nights

Abbey Morrison cocked her head to the side as her cucumber green eyes rested upon the corpse of her long dead father. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers as she leaned across the coffin and placed her index finger against his cold, dead lips. The crows that had gathered for the funeral of Arthur Morrison held their breaths anxiously as they watched his only daughter, Abbey, stand over her murdered father’s body. Abbey’s lips moved slowly as she appeared to bid her father a final goodbye. Her lips stopped moving, her hands fell to her sides and she turned away from the coffin with a wide smile on her face. She skipped away from the group of mourners with a wide smile on her face.

The sky blue lace bow Abbey had tied to her bright yellow sundress flew about in the late summer breeze. Despite her mother’s pleas that she wear a classic black dress for the funeral, Abbey still wore her favorite homemade summer dress. She’d made it two summers ago and she wore it as often as she could. Her father always said she looked beautiful in her little yellow sundress.

“Come Abbey, we have to go now,” Abbey’s mother, Delia, whispered, taking Abbey’s hand and gently guiding her away from the graveyard.

“Go wait with Uncle Fletcher,” Delia demanded, pushing Abbey towards her uncle.

Delia turned on her sleek black heels and made her way to a close family friend, Narcissa Malfoy.

“Thank you for coming, Narcissa,” Delia said, with a cold, sharp edge in her voice.

“Very nice to see you again, Delia, though I wish it were under more pleasant circumstances.”

“I agree…” Delia trailed off, her eyes turned to stone as she decided to cut straight to the point of their conversation. “Draco is willing to do the job?” she asked in no more then a whisper.

Narcissa’s lips pressed into a thin line as her cold, grey eyes glanced down to the dry, brown grass below their feet.

“Yes. He was reluctant, but he said he’d do it, so long as Abbey doesn’t get in the way of his mission from the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord has entrusted Draco with grave responsibilities. If he has to, he will abandon your task to serve his master.”

“I understand. Even so, if I find out that even a single hair on Abbey’s head is harmed, I will hold Draco accountable for it,” Delia replied curtly.

With that, Delia stormed away from Narcissa. To Delia’s surprise, she felt a single tear glide down her cheek as she watched her beautiful daughter chat animatedly with her uncle. She was such a beautiful girl, so young, so innocent, so ignorant to the evil that fought to consume her.