All Unwritten Prompt #4: FOUR EMPTY LINES
There wasn't much left for her here.
As the brightest witch of her generation, perhaps even the century, she was not an idiot. She wasn't optimistic or naive enough to expect that they would work out their problems. They were just too different. She had to go before more damage could be inflicted on their family, broken as it was. As a level-headed woman, she knew better than to fill her head with pointless delusions. She still loved them after all.
She was the problem and like the martyr she was, she'll take herself out of the equation.
Her mother-in-law despised her. She was a mudblood after all and it couldn't be helped. Her son loved her and her son's opinion was the only thing that could change anything. Draco was too in love with her - surprising, especially considering their past. Narcissa held immense sway over the society as a whole, and whatever she was displeased with usually ended up disposed of.
Her husband was one of the Dark Lord's most trusted men, yet he could never be let too close since she was also by his side. The very thought of her being able to needle out some information, some hint, perhaps an inkling of news was impossible. Draco was not going to climb up the ranks of the Dark Lord's legion if she remained. It frustrated him incredibly, but they both knew he needed her. But Hermione knows Draco needs the power to protect their half-blood son. She was a hindrance.
And their son, Scorpius. There was so much she wanted to say. Too much.
It was midnight when she sneaked out of her chambers with her meager belongings. She didn't dare take many things - she was abandoning her home, her life, her family. She grabbed a small slip of parchment. It was all she could find in such short notice. She estimated that she could be able to write four lines. Four lines in comparison to the five feet essays she would've written. How could four lines express her sorrow and her determination, her love and devotion? It couldn't.
She left it empty. Four empty lines to signify her.
As the brightest witch of her generation, perhaps even the century, she was not an idiot. She wasn't optimistic or naive enough to expect that they would work out their problems. They were just too different. She had to go before more damage could be inflicted on their family, broken as it was. As a level-headed woman, she knew better than to fill her head with pointless delusions. She still loved them after all.
She was the problem and like the martyr she was, she'll take herself out of the equation.
Her mother-in-law despised her. She was a mudblood after all and it couldn't be helped. Her son loved her and her son's opinion was the only thing that could change anything. Draco was too in love with her - surprising, especially considering their past. Narcissa held immense sway over the society as a whole, and whatever she was displeased with usually ended up disposed of.
Her husband was one of the Dark Lord's most trusted men, yet he could never be let too close since she was also by his side. The very thought of her being able to needle out some information, some hint, perhaps an inkling of news was impossible. Draco was not going to climb up the ranks of the Dark Lord's legion if she remained. It frustrated him incredibly, but they both knew he needed her. But Hermione knows Draco needs the power to protect their half-blood son. She was a hindrance.
And their son, Scorpius. There was so much she wanted to say. Too much.
It was midnight when she sneaked out of her chambers with her meager belongings. She didn't dare take many things - she was abandoning her home, her life, her family. She grabbed a small slip of parchment. It was all she could find in such short notice. She estimated that she could be able to write four lines. Four lines in comparison to the five feet essays she would've written. How could four lines express her sorrow and her determination, her love and devotion? It couldn't.
She left it empty. Four empty lines to signify her.