Post by on Apr 7, 2009 22:03:06 GMT -8
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
The gentle wind stung Nadia's reddened face as she walked, head down and hands in pockets through the freshly fallen snow. Such a time of year used to feel her with a mixture of enchantment and nostalgia towards years past but right now it was just another reminder of something her life was missing. It wasn't that things were horrible here at the manor. On the contrary. People were nice here, but she generally avoided them if she could, doing what was needed and retreating to her room or somewhere else to be alone when she could, but sometimes she sat in a corner with a room full of people, pretending to read a book by the fire when she was really sitting and quietly listening and observing them, wishing she could be as free as them. Sometimes she envied them; other times she pitied them, but nevertheless, to be able to openly talk was something she had only ever been able to do when she was comfortable, and she had rarely been truly comfortable over the past two years. She was too busy trying to earn her keep.
But at least the drama here could be interesting at times. Sam and Lucy Winslow would argue sometimes before she would storm off angrily, saying to him that she had to be a "good housewife and have the baby to bed and food on the table for you when you get back from your 'important' business." Things were getting tense between them. She was wondering how much longer until things completely blew up. It would be sad to see, but it was still something to see. After all, news from the outside only came when they sent someone out and the person heard something or thought to bring back a copy of the Daily Prophet or any such newspaper, though its biased slant was painfully obvious, praising Williams and his people as well as featuring articles praising model citizens who listened to the rules and had been warmly accepting of the new legislation.
It sickened her to read about such things. How could anyone be fine with all that went on out there? There was the whole slavery thing, and she had just heard about the nondescript new class that had been introduced months ago. She wasn't sure what was taught exactly, but it sounded suspicious. After all, her old "headmaster" had put his youngest brother in charge of it and some blonde lady had been the one campaigning about how great it was. Azelea Maddock. Nadia had read the entire article on how great she was all the while wanting to tear out the picture of the cynical-looking, smirking woman who was waving politely at the camera. What was going on in that school? Perhaps they would never know. She had heard rumors that they had some lady in the school teaching, but when her news came in, Nadia had no idea nor did she ask. Those secret meetings, she believed, should probably remain secret. The less she knew, the better. If she was somehow captured, she knew she would spill.
But as she walked, she came to a stop, sighing as she glanced around, crossing her arms. What was life anymore but a ghost of what it was? They all stayed here pretending things were fine, trying to convince the children that one day they would get to go shopping and go to ice cream parlors and candy shops again and go to Hogwarts like their parents and other siblings talked about. It was ridiculous. It had been two long years, and none of them had seen the outside world. Her father was off where she left him, probably wondering what had happened to her, and for all she knew, he'd tried to come back to find out. Her mum was either dead or a slave. She knew some of the people had lost friends and family and buried them. The Death Eaters had completely taken over almost a year ago. Nothing was going to be the same again even if they managed to do something. Who were they kidding? Why were they lying?
Never again would she be that naive girl who thought everything was fine. She'd seen people die that day at work when all of this had started. She'd witnessed things she wished she had never seen. And she should have seen it coming. The papers they'd made them all get proving their bloodlines, papers supposedly needed to buy and sell now. They should have been warning signs, but she'd been so stupid. They all had, and they had earned this. But still, even as they had set up the large Christmas tree earlier in the day for the children, she had found herself thinking about Christmas with her parents. It had always been simple and heartfelt. Her mum had made a big dinner for the family and neighbors who hadn't anyone to spend the day with. Everyone had exchanged gifts, some homemade and others not. Now they did what little they could here in this manor, which wasn't much. Children deserved more. They deserved to believe in Santa Clause and set out milk and cookies for him. They deserved shiny new toys and pretty new clothes. They deserved to have time with just their families. So much had been taken--too much--and she wondered if they would all die here without ever seeing new hope arise. It was silly to believe in heroes anymore. Knights in shining armor didn't exist. Fairytale weddings weren't possible.
Why had this had to happen? Nothing was right.