Disclaimer: Anything you recognise is JK Rowling's. Anything else is mine!
Red by Rockinfaerie
Dim Uncertainty
She stayed that way for a long time, warm and comforted in Albert’s strong arms, her ears muffled by his robes, the stillness of the hallway accompanied by the ticking of a nearby clock. Murmured voices from below drifted up, with their tinkle of glasses and the odd plink of the piano. Over Albert’s shoulder she saw their reflection in the wide mirror on the wall. She seemed so small, so helpless, and was so cross with herself for feeling it.
The hallway was sparsely lit by a glowing candelabrum hanging from the ceiling. It cast dim shadows on the light wallpaper. A small number of portraits and photographs were hanging there, and all figures in them snored softly.
She inhaled the musty smell of his dress robes, and sensed that she was searching for something that did not exist. He patted gently “ she could feel the heavy, rhythmic thump of his fingertips on her back. It didn’t take long for her cheeks to be drenched with warm tears once more, but she did not make a sound.
Suddenly she pulled away, embarrassed.
“I - you shouldn’t see me like this Albert - I’m a mess, really,” she spluttered.
Moving away, she turned to the mirror, her reflection growing clearer as she approached. Albert stood behind her, watching her carefully. Her reapplied make-up was still intact, but her hair had become undone, and her eyes smudged and red once more. She cast them downward to a vase of flowers on the table, and fingered their stems carefully. The petals had closed in the dark, and she wondered if they would ever open for her again. With a fresh wave of sadness, she realised that Harry had bought them for her, only a fortnight before. Already many leaves had fallen, strewn on the dark mahogany table.
“Nonsense dear,” he replied seriously, and she looked up at his reflection again. “You should not hide your fear and sadness from me “ we have known each other for so long.” The corners of his eyes had crinkled into a kind smile.
She wiped her eyes, sighing loudly, and then faced Albert again, her back to the wilting flowers. She felt as though she were a child again, discovering her ineptitude at certain games. Angrily, she had discovered, on this awful occasion that life could not be planned and laid out, like a nice soiree or the clothed table that accompanied it. Smoothing down her robes, her thoughts returned to the guests downstairs.
There were so many guests downstairs, all waiting for her to talk to them, to engage in sombre conversation. Most of them were Harry’s friends, who had known him well. Many were in the Ministry, and these she only recognised from their monthly calls to the house. Some other guests were Lucius’ former Hogwarts friends, and sons of the Ministry guests.
James must have been as lonely as her, she thought with a certain degree of guilt. Sirius Black had not been there tonight. James’ best friend had only been present for two days since her son’s return from school. Sirius was a frequent guest during the holidays, and he and Harry would often engage in conversation. For this reason he was often the secret object of her envy, as strange as it seemed. Yet she was very glad that James had such a person, other than Lucius, to confide in and to talk to, and to consider as a sort of brother. But Sirius had had to go back to Hogwarts “ he was not, after all, a direct relative of Harry. And tonight, Mrs Black was downstairs, and according to James, the animosity between this mother and son had only grown since Sirius’ bitter departure from the Ancient House of Black.
There were also her own friends from the Kensington Quidditch Club, and the few friends she and Harry had shared, like old Madam Demarchalier, with whom they often holidayed.
She looked closely at her face in the mirror, and drawing out her wand fixed her appearance. Albert was looking at her cautiously.
“I suppose I shall go back downstairs “,” she said quickly. “The host can’t be expected to disappear like this “ and I must find James “ oh, I sent Lucius to find him for me, and you know Lucius, he’s very competent at locating people…”
Albert took her in his arms again, hushing her softly. His soft hands were gathered around her small waist, and though being held like in Albert’s fraternal fashion made her feel very protected, she had to think of the guests.
“No, no Albert. That’s “ I have to go back down, I have to. People are waiting for me, and if they don’t see me they might think, oh I don’t know, that I have fled, or -”
But Albert led her to the armchair by the window as she spoke, and she unwillingly sat into it. Albert knelt down beside her, his face half-hidden by shadow.
“No-one expects you to be there all the time, dear,” Albert soothed. “They know what a terrible time this is for you, this so sudden business. I do too.”
“But they’re Harry’s friends!” she protested, pushing Albert away again and standing up. “I must talk to them! I need to, I have to find things out, I want to know what cause…” she paused, looking down to the wooden floor. “I want to know why my husband is dead,” she said quietly, her words trembling.
Albert got up to follow her as she walked determinedly down the hall, and then the stairs, and onto the tiled floor of the entrance hall. He came up behind her and squeezed her arm.
“It’s all right dear,” he whispered. “I won’t stop you. I just want you to know that I’m here for you. I know it’s horrid to deal with such matters as the ones you are facing, but instead of stopping you I will salute you for your bravery.”
The large oak door was just opposite them, and from behind it the voices came. In one way she wished to burst into the room, and talk forever to everyone about anything, and at the same time longed to stay there, in the empty entrance area, with Albert’s protective arm on her shoulder. It seemed to her that she was fated to tight-walk the threshold of these affairs.
She heard footsteps approach behind them, and she turned to the curving stairway to see her son and her brother descending. James was looking very pale and his hair was messier than it had been previously that day, but she was very relieved to see him again. Lucius wore a sombre smile on his face.
“Oh Lucius, you found him,” she said breathlessly as James casually jumped the bottom-most stair.
“Yes, safe and sound,” Lucius replied. Her younger brother looked so grand and elegant, and as he strode past James to greet Albert, she was at once reminded of their own father.
“Now that you have found your son,” said Albert, eyeing James approvingly, “will you join us in the drawing room?”
She gazed at the door. Lucius’ hand was on it, ready to push it open. She was hesitant. Albert looked at her expectantly, and she did not wish to disappoint him, but James had backed away.
“I will join you later,” she replied, looking at her son.
Nodding their heads comprehensively, both men entered the drawing room, and for a moment the voices inside grew very loud as the door swung open, and then it closed, turning their loud words once again to slow muffles.
James looked at her, somewhat surprised though grateful, and she led him to the study at the other side of the house. They walked in silence as they usually did when going anywhere. The torch brackets flickered on the wall, and she could feel the rhythm of heat and cold that hit her face as they walked past.
They entered the study. It was Harry’s study. It was the only room in the house that had been untouched since his death, and she felt somehow that it could serve as a secluded place for her and her son to talk, away from the rest of the world.
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