Falling Starr

A crash of thunder woke Starr a few hours later. She listened to the wind and rain against
the windows, trying to fall back asleep. Hopeless. She was thirsty. She moved Lucius
heavy arms from around her and became aware of another body in the bed, behind her. She
reached out a hand. Narcissa! The physical and emotional abuse of the previous evening
came crashing back and she jumped from the bed without waking either of her sleeping bed
partners. She padded over to the jug of fresh water that was always left on the small table
and poured herself a glass, glancing back over at the bed whilst drinking it. She was
surprised at the amount of hatred she felt toward Narcissa. Hatred for making her respond,
for making her do it, for ma her her enjoy it. Hatred toward Lucius, not as violent, for
allowing it to happen. Something someone said the previous afternoon drifted back into her
subconscious. Snape. What had he said? "˜ She'll never divorce him' and Draco. "˜She's still
his wife. She likes that.' What a hopeless situation. Desperately in loveh a h a man she'd
never have only for herself.
Her eyes fell on Lucius' knife. He'd left it on a bedside table after he'd cut the laces of
Narcissa's corselet. She picked it up, feeling it's comfortable weight in her hands, it's
smoothness. She ran her thumb along the blade, watching the thin red line emerge on her
skin. It didn't even hurt. A drop of blood fell on the pillow near Narcissa's head and she
stuck her thumb in her mouth, licking the cut, tasting her own blood. She smiled as she
imagined Narcissa waking up and seeing her, standing over her with a knife in her hand.
Suddenly, she had power. Why not? It would be what the bitch deserved, using her like a
common whore. She felt for the pulse in the sleeping womans throat, pressed the sharp
blade against it and sliced, watching the blood for a split second. There was so much of it.
She dropped the knife. She was cold. The room smelt of death...she had to get out.
Looking around in the gloom, she spotted Lucius' white silk shirt. That would do. She
wrapped it around herself and left the room, mumbling the locking charms behind her as she
slipped unnoticed down the hallway.
She found herself in the formal lounge room and poured a drink of whisky, which she threw
back quickly, and poured another. The house was eerily quiet now. Where was everybody?
Had they gone home? Were a few late night revellers still here? How many had found
beds?
Oh God...what had she done? What would happen to her now? Azkaban...she answered
her own question. Could Lucius keep her out? Would he want to? She was a killer
now...the worst kind. She'd murdered a sleeping woman, never even giving her a chance to
defend herself. Her hand went to her belly...the innocent life growing within would have to
bear the brunt of it's mother's rash stupidity. Just like she'd had to with her father. Except
Sirius hadn't actually killed anyone. The irony amused her. At least she'd done something to
warrant a life of despair. With a final mouthful of whisky, things suddenly became very clear.
Lucius didn't love her, and probably wouldn't love their baby. Harry and Draco were happy,
Hermione and Ron were happy. Her father had Remus, had always had Remus. Where was
her mother...who was her mother? Why had Remus looked after her when her father had
been in Azkaban? Surely a mother would have her own child with her rather than leave her
with a werewolf. Damn this clarity! She'd heard of male pregnancies in the wizarding world.
How could she have been so dense? Remus was her...er ...mother. Tears of frustration ran
down her cheeks. Why didn't Sirius tell her...why didn't Remus? She'd spent twelve years of
her life thinking she had no parents and seventeen thinking she had no mother. Was Remus
ashamed of her, worried in case his lupine qualities emerged in her ...or her offspring?
Maybe it had, she'd just proved herself capable of murder.
She went back upstairs, stopping outside Harry and Draco's room. All was quiet within. She
hoped they hadn't changed the passwords. The door clicked open. They hadn't. She
walked over to the bed, her footsteps muffled by the carpet, and opened a draw in the
bedside cabinet. There was Harry's penknife, a present to him from Sirius. How apt. She
took it, and looked down at the two men who were wrapped around each other even in sleep.
She kissed Harry's cheek. "Sorry Harry." she whispered. "Have a nice life." She left the
room as quietly as she'd entered and went back downstairs.
"What are you doing awake so early?" Snape's soft voice startled her, nearly making her
drop the knife.
She blushed under his intense gaze. "Um...I...er...couldn't sleep." What was she doing,
explaining herself to him. She lived here, she had more right than him to be wandering
around. But if it would make him leave her alone, she'd make up an excuse. "I thought I'd
have a bath. I didn't want to wake Lucius..." that much was true "...so I thought I'd use a
downstairs bathroom."
The look he gave her suggested that he didn't believe her, but she didn't care. In about
fifteen minutes it wouldn't matter anyway.
"You look tired."
"A bath will help relax me. I'm probably a bit hungover."
"I can give you a potion for that." Snape somehow felt she shouldn't be left alone right now.
"Come with me."
She shook her head. A bath would be a good idea, she felt dirty, disgusting, cheap. It would
feel good to be clean... "No thankyou. I've got some lavender oil. That'll help." she turned
and walked away from him, stopping to look back. "Thankyou...Severus."
She locked the bathroom door and ran a bath. She dropped Lucius' shirt on the wet floor,
that'd piss him off, and stepped into the hot water, feeling it surround her...washing away all
the filth that clung to her. Harry's knife. She flicked it open, admiring the lethal beauty of
such a simple object. She ran her finger over the blade. Just as sharp as the other one.
She smiled, relieved that Harry looked after his possessions. The knife in one hand, blade
poised against her wrist, underwater- apparantly it hurt less...like she cared...but she did it
anyway. Don't slice across, slice up. She did. amazed at how the water went red
immediately. So pretty. "Goodbye Lucius...Harry...Sev..." She transferred the knife to her
other hand. It was very weak, could barely hold it. Under the water...sliced a jagged line.
Not nice and smooth like the other one. No-one needed her...not like she wanted to be
needed. She closed her eyes...it'd be over soon.
A hammering on the door. "Starr...Damnit girl! Open this door!"
Answer him and he'll go away. "I can't...sorry Sev..." she barely heard her own words.
The door crashed open, just as she slipped into eternal darkness. Snape knew there was
nothing he could do...could have done. What had happened to push her over the edge? He
slid down the cold tile wall and, leaning his head in his hands, wept.
Lucius Malfoy would pay for this, before the day was out.

~~* Fin *~~

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