This is my memory. . .

She spun towards me, frantic and terrified. ‘Come on! Leave them - they won’t deliver anything they promised-‘

‘How do I know you will?’ I cried.

‘Come with us! They won’t care if you die!’

‘I don’t want to take sides! Will you care?’

‘Of course!’

‘NO!’ He came up behind me, grabbed my shoulder. ‘They don’t care. They don’t care about you. Stay with me. With us.’

‘Neither of you care! I can’t take sides! I can’t fight my family. I can’t! Please! Please don’t make me.’ I realise I’m crying.

His face hardened and he turned away. ‘Alright then, I won’t.’

I was scared of what he might do. ‘What do you-' There was a whoosh, a whisper of wind, and a flash of green light, and she fell. I stared. ‘No. No! Why? Why did you do that?’ I turned to him, and he reached to grab my shoulder. ‘NO!’ I span, and saw the others coming towards us. ‘You killed her!’ I screamed at him, and turned again. I couldn’t think well enough to apparate, so I ran, buying time.

Time to escape. Time to heal this newly opened wound in my heart.

---

They say time is a great healer.
They’re wrong.
There are so many wounds that don’t heal.

I love attics. Old forgotten memories, golden dust motes, twisting, turning, in the light from the dusty windows. Cardboard boxes on an old wooden floor.

There are some things best forgotten.

They distract me; turn my thoughts to other stories. I can search through boxes and imagine the tales of each thing I find, wonder about the memories in them. Here is a feather, here a letter, here a piece of ribbon.

Oh, how I wish I could forget.

My mind always strays to the old hurt, but I can distract it, sometimes. That’s why I love this place. Sometimes I just sit here, with the sun on my face. Try to clear my thoughts.

Fail

It was so long ago. But I still remember.

I still feel betrayed.

They can’t remember me; I tried so hard to forget them. I can feel the memories, pounding on the walls I built around my heart.

Trying to keep them out or keep them in?

Shadows in the corners. Dust. The golden sunlight fading, breaking to bits.

I fell for every one of their lies

I loved them. I trusted them, but they lied to me, and one by one they died. Sometimes I wonder if they meant to lie. Maybe for them it was the truth.

I wanted to believe them.

What we believe is powerful. Belief can kill.

Shadow of a tree on the floor. Old incense still lingers in the air.

One half of my family on either side of a war. On one side, my husband, my oldest sister, my parents. On the other side my son, my other sister, my cousin. Both sides believed they were right.

Two halves of the same thing. A moon, half light, half dark.

And me, stuck in the middle. I wasn’t like either side. I couldn’t believe in things that strongly. I wouldn’t die fighting.

Which side is which? How can you tell who is right or wrong?

What are right and wrong? How can you tell?

They say to trust your instincts.

No longer will I be taken in by beauty. The flower I was named for doesn’t last any longer than the illusions I wove around myself.

Narcissa no more.

How can you trust a murderer? How can you love a predator that lives on others’ fear?

Malfoy no more.

I divest myself of my family, of the fools who made fools of us all.

Black no more.

I’m lost, now, bewildered and alone. I can’t find my old songs, my anchor to reality. I can’t believe how stupid I was.

I wish to dream. To love as I once did.

But I know that love and hurt go hand in hand.

I wish to forget. To loose the chains that tie me back.

I’m hiding. Hiding from the past, from my memories. Hiding from humanity, from what I know people are capable of. Hiding in my dead sister's attic.

No-one finds me here

Love cannot win against betrayal. Hope cannot win against despair. In all your life your greatest fear will never abandon you.

It will always be there, waiting for you to fall.

I cannot stand in the light, the unforgiving radiance that illuminates our faults.

But neither can I hide in the dark.

Instead I live in the twilight. Dwelling in memories, shadows, and the tattered remains of my soul. And now -

Look at me.
Look at my memories.
This is how time has healed me.