― ii. daughter's grief

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𝓓𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝓖𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟

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𝓓𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝓖𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟

Edelyn didn't give a rat's arse about Sirius Orion Black's will. 

She couldn't care less about number twelve Grimmauld Place or Kreacher the House-Elf or the vault in Gringotts now under her and Harry's name. 

Her body laid still, buried under the orange and green plaid bedcovers, unmoving as it had been for the past few hours apart from the occasional quiver that would proceed a sniffle. Her legs, which were now clad in a pair of purple sleeping shorts, were drawn close to her chest, and her cheek was rested on top a supple pillow.

The jumper she had changed into was his, and Edelyn drowned herself in the apricot-coloured threads, nose nuzzled into the collar and fingers tugging at the sleeves, desperately holding on to that lingering scent of sandalwood that seeped through the knitted fabric. Because in her grief, it was he, and only he, she wanted. It was his arms that she so yearned to be wrapped around her shoulders, his voice she so ached to hear whispering words of comfort...

A sob choked in her throat and her whole body trembled, muscles aching and clamping down on her brittle bones. The same heavy waves of heartache she had experienced when he had died came back to haunt her, the ebb and flow of pain and numbness, a vicious cycle that made crescent shape-markings appear in her pale skin and bruises form on her swollen bottom lip. 

Distraction. It's what had calmed the sea of sorrow that had threatened to engulf her whole since Sirius' death, and it's what she wanted now. What she needed; something to keep her mind at bay from the thoughts that would torment her: the what-ifs and if-onlys and why-why-whys. Because for reasons she could not comprehend, despite the fact that she had only known her father for a year and Cedric for all her life, Sirius' death was hurting her even more, something she hadn't thought possible. Surely, it can't get worse than this, can it? her naive fourteen-year-old self had thought.

But now at fifteen, her gunmetal blue eyes had darkened and her innocence had washed away with the realization that the world wasn't a bright and cheery place. It was sunless. Moonless. Starless. It dripped with the venoms of cruelty and injustice, filled with merciless personalities like Bellatrix Lestrange and Tom Riddle, and Edelyn felt herself to be no different, for hadn't she proven that night at the Ministry of Magic that she could be just as evil? Just as ruthless? She had tortured that night. Taken pleasure in it, and Merlin, had she been prepared to kill. Craved for the kill.

She shuddered.

And she knew, just knew, that if Cedric had known, had witnessed it, he would be so so ashamed. So so disappointed. The inner badger in her that illuminated her silver Patronus was appalled, and the guilt that it brought only made Edelyn bury herself deeper under the bedcovers. 

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