CURSED [D.M]

-(49) to prevent all this

ZILLIAH thought she had known pain in its extremist form, but like always, life surprises her again by a bigger blow to the face.

"I wish you were never born too."

There's nothing else in her head. Just those words. Just those seven words her mother had spoken right to her face without an ounce of hesitation.

I wish you were never born too. 

I wish you were never born too.

I wish you were never born-

"Stop it!", she hisses at her own damn head as she slants against the door of her new room in the apartment Ivan had arranged for, to keep her safe. She shuts her eyes and lets herself slide to the floor, feeling like her legs were made out of jelly.

"Zilliah?", Draco's soft whisper is heard from the other side of the door almost instantly, and it cuts through the thoughts in her mind. "Can I come in?"

No, she wants to say. "Yes", she mumbles. 

How could she ever keep him away?

She crawls away from the door and lets him open it. The next moment, he's reaching for her, lowering himself onto the floor.

She melts against his touch. And that's her breaking point.

She can't stop the tears from falling. Not even when she tries so bad to.

So they fall and they fall like raindrops from the sky.

And Draco holds her through it, caressing her, kissing her, never- not once, telling her to calm down or that she should just stop crying. He just lets her.

And it's all that she needs right now.

-

"Look what I made", her mother speaks from behind, her pleasant tone unmistakably fake. "Sandwiches." 

Zilliah stops reading, but she still keeps her eyes on the book, refusing to face Daphne. It's only the both of them in the apartment right now. Ivan had to go back home, bearing the news that is sure to cause havoc there. Draco had to arrange for his accommodation and follow Voldemort's new orders so that he wouldn't be caught slacking. It was not safe for him to stay too long either, just in case he is under someone's radar. 

"Zilliah, please", her mother's voice turns pleading. "Don't starve yourselves."

"Nothing I haven't done before", she mumbles back, her eyes moving through the lines of the book, her mind grasping not one word of it.

"What-"

"Which you wouldn't know of because you were never there."

Silence. Followed by a sigh. "Fine, have it your way then", Daphne says, frustration disguised in her monotone voice.

Zilliah picks up the sound of the trash can opening- of the food being emptied into it- of the plates getting washed- and finally, of Daphne walking towards her own room. With every footstep her mother takes away from her, Zilliah feels like there is more room to breathe.

Peace in three.. two.. one-

"You do know that I didn't consent to having a child with Riddle?", Daphne's cold voice cuts through the air again, much to Zilliah's displeasure.

She doesn't respond. She pretends not to hear even though it's crystal clear what her mother's words are and what she implies by them.

"It was forced upon me", Daphne continues nonetheless. "The union. The intercourse. A daughter.. I was only eighteen."