o r c h i d e o u s
{ the end of a dark,
tired year }

Things had been like this last year, too.

Things, Draco thought softly as he stood in the doorway, registering the scent of polish - not really there and yet there, lingering in a ever-present, expensive sort of way - registering the spotless, immaculate, dust-free items of furniture - they had been handed down from generations, he knew, and yet they spoke of pride and beauty and splendour - registering the clean floor and walls - milk-white and as spotless as the furniture - registering all the things he had never really taken in consideration before

Things, not people. The things had been like this last year, too; the people, different. They'd changed. Lucius did not boast anymore, his tones did not sound full of supreme self-confidence, the pride in his eyes looked forced. Narcissa did not laugh, only knit, knit for so many hours at a stretch sometimes, not speaking, not responding, that he felt like he'd go mad from the sheer quietude. And him?

He shrugged, a broad-shouldered shrug, bent down, used [like he did every, quiet day] Orchideous to replace the flowers in her favourite vase, and walked out of the hall.

Yes, the people had changed.


Song credit: Piano Magic. <3