「ℴphelia → ωilkes」 (primrosepath) wrote in valescoing,
@ 2011-07-21 01:26:00

Entry tags:

Amery! [March 1981, AU]
She was tired of this. Very tired.

You would think, being so constantly worn out as Ophelia was these days, that she would have gotten used to it by now... but she hadn't. This feeling never let up, never got any better, and she never... adapted, or whatever one was expected to do when their husband turned up dead, was found out to be a Death Eater and they were left with a five month-old baby to raise alone. Was there any way to simply transform after that kind of a life-altering event? Or were all widows just like her; sitting holed up at home, stuck to their child's side 24 hours a day and being generally depressed and pathetic like there was nothing left for them in the world?

Maybe not, if they felt like there was something left. Truth be told, Ophelia was certainly not one of those people. She had Anastasiya, of course, the only thing keeping her going when she felt she was running on fumes, but even the child was little solace. At the worst moment, a glance down into the blue eyes of the baby girl would send a jolt of memories through her, reminding her just how much had been lost, and it was back to square one. It was back to locking herself behind the bedroom door, clutching a pillow and letting the tears flow as if she had buried him only yesterday.

She kept going, though... She always put the pillow down, always came back out and always took Anya into her arms again and held her close, because no matter how upset, no matter how tired she got, she had to withstand. Smoothing a hand over the tiny head of blonde hair, she reminded herself that if life had been unfair to anyone, it was this baby. She would grow up without a father, with people telling her that her father had died a murderer, and for that reason, persevering even through the worst of times was everything.

Still, she thought as she leaned her head drowsily back against the back of the grand rocking chair, it was the hardest thing... to do all of this alone.

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otets
2011-07-21 04:35 am UTC (link)

Death angered Amery. It was a random and senseless act that pained him. Three months, his brother had been gone, and it was a keen sense of loss to wake up every day and feel it anew. The whole family was grieving, even, and though it came from devastating circumstances, they had formed a stronger bond that Amery could only hope would last beyond the aftereffects of Grayson's death.

But it pained him to see his sister-in-law fade out of his life, anyone's life, entirely. Alone with a child, knowing what her husband had been and why it had ended for him—no, that was pain and isolation Amery could but imagine. It was not fair, that when she so desperately needed a shoulder to lean on, needed that emotional support, there was little for her. From her in-laws, no less. He loved his sisters, truly he did, but the heartlessness which they felt for Ophelia staggered him.

So he was taking matters into his own hands, finally. He understood the need to grieve, to isolate one's self after such a traumatic event, but they were family, were they not? They'd both lost an important person in their lives, and why should they suffer alone when they could ease the pain together? The time for withdrawal and evasion was over, or so Amery hoped she'd agree.

Taking the liberties only an elder brother could, he emerged by Floo in the drawing room, dusting soot from the shoulders of his cloak as he surveyed the space. Any time he was here, the sameness surprised him. He expected it to be different, because he was—they all were. But it persisted, just with the illusion of being duller. Or perhaps he was projecting, as he felt that most profound sense of loss that surely must be reflected in his surroundings.

No sister-in-law in sight. "Ophelia?" he called, trying to moderate the level of his voice, unaware if the babe was resting.

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primrosepath
2011-07-21 05:01 am UTC (link)

So alien was the sound of another voice echoing through the cold estate's halls that Ophelia's eyes immediately shot open wide, despite the bare whisper that remained once the sound reached her ears. Shifting very carefully so as to not awaken the sleeping child in her arms, she moved to rise and place Anya back in her crib. Once she was safe and sound, hands switched quickly from baby to wand, grabbing the instrument off the dresser and brandishing it in front defensively.

It took little time to secure the nursery's door once she had stepped into the hall, and for the first time, Ophelia ventured to wonder who had come to her home unannounced. Certainly the wards Grayson had put up on the house when they had moved in could not allow in anyone she would class as unwanted, but what if? Who was to say that the wards hadn't been breached, or that they hadn't been weakened, and that someone who had reason to hate her late husband hadn't come looking for revenge? As wild as it sounded to the Ravenclaw sensibilities she held onto so dearly, these days Ophelia couldn't help but be scared, terrified of the idea that anything more could go wrong.

She was paranoid, yes. Paranoid that someone in this world could take Anastasiya from her, the way they'd taken Grayson.

Knuckles whitening from her intense grip on her weapon, she quietly stepped down the hallway and into the foyer. As she cautiously spun to survey the area, out of the corner of her eye Ophelia caught the image of her mysterious someone standing there, in the middle of the drawing room--she could not even take the time to process who it was before jumping back several feet in surprise.

"Merlin's beard, Amery!" she cursed, throwing a hand to her chest. "I thought there was an--" intruder? That sounded so silly now-- "--I mean, you scared me!"

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