Chloris "not really a traitor" Burke (exquisitebeauty) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-01-02 20:02:00 |
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Chloris didn't know much of the plan. She only knew the bare minimum, but what she did know from what Bellatrix told her was that if everything went well, her husband, her Hephaestus, would be home. She had paced the room back and forth so many times, thinking of everything that could go wrong. What if Rabastan and Marius were caught? What if the rest of her family was taken away from her? But no, no, she couldn't think like that. Everything would go fine. Her Healer that had been assigned to the house after Hephaestus had been taken away, tutted at her and made her sit. While late in her pregnancy (about a month to go now), she could still upset the baby being unduly stressed. So the Healer sat her down and massaged her feet, and Chloris began to think of everything that could go right... and what she would say to her husband when he arrived in their home. She had considered bringing home their sons for the occasion, but if something went wrong, she couldn't imagine hurting them that much. So she had left them in France, with barely a glimmer of hope that they may be able to return to England soon. Maybe. Chloris was beginning to think that the boys should attend Beauxbatons or Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts. They would most likely get a better education with the higher standards at either school... She was getting lost in thoughts that had nothing to do with the issues at hand. She waved the Healer away to get her some tea and worried her bottom lip. He had to come home. He had to. Life was nothing if she didn't have her husband by her side. It was abundantly obvious that of the two of them, Chloris had fared better throughout the crisis that had ripped so many purist families apart. She may have had her demons, her fears and her worries, but she had also confronted the reality of the situation head-on, deftly making financial maneuvers and laying her plans, all the while blossoming with the expectance of a new life to welcome to the family. Were she any less of the woman her husband'd fallen in love with, things could've been far worse for her. Hephaestus had not been so lucky. When he was finally brought home, it was their butler who took charge of him as a maid hurried out to notify their mistress that her husband had returned. But Hephaestus was deaf and blind to the excited activity carried out by the household staff; leaning heavily against the support dutifully proffered to him by the butler, he remained mute in response to all that was being said to him. The flash of his reflection in a mirror as he was led down the hallway did nothing to incite his attention -- had he looked, he would've seen a man aged by ten years, grey streaking uncombed, unwashed hair, the already angular planes of his face now pressed sharply against ashen skin, eyes glassy in a manner that suggested that what they saw was not necessarily what lay before them -- and it was thus, without resistance or effort, that he allowed himself to be guided through the house. When the maid burst into the room with a smile on her face unlike any Chloris had ever seen and announced, "Master Burke has returned!" Chloris nearly burst into tears. She stood immediately (albeit slowly given the child that stirred in her belly) and smoothed out the folds of her gown. She didn't know what condition Hephaestus was going to be in, or how he had fared. She couldn't, however, imagine it had been easy for her husband. She took out her wand and bolstered the fire in the fireplace and instructed the maid to go and bring a warm, fine change of clothes for him. Chloris would change him herself if she had to. She had a cane on hand for him, though she didn't anticipate him doing much wandering around of the grounds yet. She looked around the room. Everything set, everything well. She could hear the house bustling with excitement. The Burke's were good to their servants, and so the return of the Master of Burke Manor was something to be celebrated. The door opened and Chloris turned, slowly. Any hope of her concealing her true feelings until servants disappeared behind doors vanished when she saw him. Hephaestus. Tears sprung to her eyes; he looked older than he ever should have. Tired, cold, and ill. But the tears were not just in mourning for his vibrant spirit and condition, those could be regained. The tears were out of joy. He was here. She was not alone any longer. "Hephaestus!" She nearly ran to him (not quite possible, but she bustled over as quickly as she could) and without even removing him from his butler's embrace, kissed him fully on the lips. Propriety was not meant for this moment. She was as vibrant in this moment as he was defeated, and she was determined to pass that light of life on, "Oh, my love. Welcome home." Hephaestus may have been as leaden in this moment as Chloris was joyfully animated, but the sound of her voice and the sudden press of her lips against his own raw ones did more to rouse him from the greyness he had descended to than the hurried commands of his rescuers mere hours ago. Something, some light, quickened in his gaze; and although he wasn't immediately responsive, it did not take long before he disengaged his arm from the butler's firm grip so as to encircle his wife's wrist in his own dirty hand. When he could finally summon it, his voice was the rasp that came from disuse. "Chloris." He repeated her name, then paused -- and his gaze darted around, picking out the vaguely familiar details of the room, before it returned to that of his beloved wife. "I'm not-- This is--" Was this real? he wanted to say. If this was some hallucination brought by some reaction to the effects of the dementors, he would crumple. Hephaestus gave her wrist a squeeze -- harder than she was used to, but desperation to know if this was real made him clumsy. She kissed him again, and managed not to wince when he squeezed her wrist. He needed confirmation, he needed to know this was real. Sweet Salazar, how many times had he hallucinated this moment before? She hated to think of him in such a state of weakness, but she did the only thing she could think of to prove to him that this, that she, was real. She took his hand an pressed it against her belly, where their child fluttered and moved, affected by his mother's excitement and quickly beating heart, "That's our baby, Hephaestus." She repeated his name, kissed his forehead despite the dirt, and then ran her fingers down his cheek, "You're home, my love. You're safe. Safe with me." There, beneath his palm, their baby moved and kicked, and for a moment, Hephaestus was transfixed by the small jolts each little movement given by the unborn child transmitted to his hand. He mumbled something -- something about Notus, the child that hadn't been -- but was unaware that he'd said anything aloud and merely slid his hand away, catching Chloris' sleeve in his fingers and grasping it tightly. "Our boys?" he asked hoarsely, gaze fixed on his wife's face, unwavering even as the butler relinquished him entirely into Chloris' support before moving to assist the maid who had just returned with the items sent for. Chloris' chest felt like it collapsed when he spoke of Notus; her heart ached for their lost child as well, but she couldn't fathom the agony he had to have been in over it while he was in Azka--- away. When he was away. That place's name was never to be mentioned in her home or even in her thoughts. He had been away and it had been miserable, and she was now going to take care of him. Their being together was all that mattered. "Safe," she said and cupped his far too lean cheek with her palm, "I... I sent them away. To France. I couldn't risk..." She nearly started to cry at the thought of losing her children as well. Even knowing they were safe had been some comfort to her while her heart had ached in loneliness for the past two months. "Come," she slowly, oh so slowly, led him to the chaise that was nearest to the fire. While they made their travels, she gestured for the maid to set out the things, "Bring some simple food, grapes and fresh bread and cheese." She then looked to the butler, "Warm a glass and then pour some brandy. After that, you may both leave us. But stay close if I need you." Safe was all Hephaestus needed to hear. A single jerk of his head was given as some semblance of a nod as he was led toward the fire, and as their attendants bustled to carry out their mistress' instructions, he gazed at the flames, eyes vacant and grip on Chloris as strong as ever. "For the best," came the sudden remark; it was as though he was confirming some thought out-loud. "Couldn't risk our other children." A pause followed the words, and then, as the butler returned with the requested brandy, he turned to look at Chloris with an unsmiling, grim expression. "I'm not-- not fit for your..." His words trailed off as he raised his free hand to claw at the cloak that draped across his figure, concealing the ragged clothes beneath. She merely nodded and led him to sit on the chaise. She knew it had been for the best to send their children away. And they were safe, so she needed not to worry about them at the moment. At the moment, she needed to worry about him. Her eyes took in the dirt and the ragged clothes, and she pursed her lips ever so gently, "Then we will make you." She turned to the made who was just laying out the tray of food, "Hot water, soap, and fresh towels. As fast as you can. At a run, if necessary." The maid nodded and indeed took off at a run. Chloris turned her attention to her husband, and once again pressed her lips to his, "I've missed you, my love. Every day, every moment..." This time, Chloris' kiss did not go unreturned, and instead of passively accepting it, Hephaestus deepened it. He was, at first, hesitant, as though he were holding back out of fear that moving too close, too quickly would cause Chloris to simply vanish -- and to banish that fear, he raised his hand and traced the slope of her cheek and the curve of her nose, relearning her face with trembling fingers. "I love you," he finally said. "They tried to take it from-- But I remembered." She didn't pull away, she couldn't even imagine it. While she had not had the horror of where he had been, she had that nightmare before. She would be comfortable in his arms, holding him close to her, and then she would wake up, cold and alone. So having him here was almost like a dream. She returned his kisses and when he looked at her, she couldn't help but smile, "I love you too, Hephaestus. I never doubted that." She leaned in and kissed him deeply with a passion she had held inside her for months. She didn't hear the click of the door as the maid reentered, and only came to her senses when she heard the slight gasp of surprise. Chloris broke the kiss, though it lingered, and then nodded for the blushing maid to come forward. The woman put down the basin of hot water, and took the towels off her arms that had been draped there. Chloris gave her a kind smile and gestured for her to leave the room. She dipped one of the towels in the water and then generously soaped it. She turned to her husband and smiled softly, "Relax, my love. You're weary. Let me take care of you." Although the maid was swift to obey her mistress' command, the girl's step slowed as she passed through the doorway; she turned her head to glance back at this most unusual of sights before letting the door shut with a gentle click. For it truly was out of the ordinary to see Chloris and Hephaestus Burke being so intimate in the view of the staff -- but the circumstances were exceptional, and the pair were uncaring of who saw them. Even as Chloris broke their kiss and busied herself, Hephaestus remained in the position he had moved, sitting with his body tilted forward, eyes now following her movements in a face that was caught in the blank expression that had been the norm these past few months. It was one that would creep up on him unexpectedly in the days that were to come -- a souvenir from Azkaban. "You're really here," he intoned softly. "I thought I'd never see you again." Chloris gently peeled away his cloak, not moving as gracefully as she normally would given her condition. She was much larger with child at this point than she had been with either of the boys, but she didn't question it. As long as she was healthy. And as long as she had Hephaestus here again. "I'm here, my love," she gently traced his features with her fingertips. Her eyes brimmed with tears and while she did not say it, she had feared the same thing over and over. Night after night. She feared what would happen to him and if she would ever see him again or feel his touch. This moment, though tainted with his haunted look, was rapture for her. She gently began to clean his skin, wiping the dirt and grime away. She didn't care if her silk got wet with the dirty water; she would buy another one if she had to. What mattered was to get him clean and comfortable. "Is it too warm?" It was all she could think to say, afraid to ask how he was or remind him of the hardships he'd been through. Undressing him was easy enough, for Hephaestus was overwhelmed by this sudden (but welcome, so very welcome) change of his situation and could do little more than simply follow Chloris' every movement with his eyes. His clothes -- tatters more like, the filthy remains of what he had been wearing on the night of the masquerade -- were easily removed, putting up no resistance to Chloris' determined hands. Watching her face closely as she tended to his face, his eyes were nonetheless glazed in a manner that indicated his thoughts had drifted elsewhere -- and then focused sharply back again as the feel of warm water on his face and the sound of her voice returned him to the present. Too warm? Was that even possible? "No. It's not." And he raised his hand, this time reaching for her fingers instead of her sleeve. For a moment she let their fingers intertwine, and she looked into his eyes with such adoration and a profound longing; she had missed him terribly. More than she missed their children in France, more than she missed her father who had passed into the next world. She paused her ministrations and kissed him again, savouring his lips and his fingers in hers. "Let me finish," she whispered when she broke their lingering kiss, "and then you can eat and drink and hold me and we can try to forget the past two months has ever happened." Wordless, Hephaestus reached up and lightly traced the shape of her nose. Then, as he let his hand drop back down with a quietly dull thump, he gave a halting nod and the shadow of a smile. This was more tenderness than he thought he would ever receive again. She finished up quietly, her movements not nearly as fluid as she would have wished, but she didn't think that he would ultimately care. When she was finished, she slightly struggled to her feet and retrieved the clothes the servants had brought for him. Gently she helped him into them, wincing as she saw just how frail he seemed to be. She knew he was not, for he was one of the strongest men she knew... but that horrible place did horrible things to people. She retrieved the tray of food and sat down next to him and placed it next to her. She touched his cheek gently... the feeling of his skin assured her that he actually was with her. She wasn't dreaming. "Do you think you can eat something, my love?" Despite the burden of pregnancy that made Chloris so (relatively) cumbersome in her movements, manipulating Hephaestus' limbs did not require undue effort, for he was, if nothing else, pliable in her hands. An absent attempt was made to aid her in dressing him, but his hands ended up falling limply to his sides as he simply watched Chloris -- and then, when he was sitting with her beside him, they came up to reach for her again. He drew her closer. "Cheese. And -- I would kill for some wine." "Felicity!" Chloris called out over her shoulder. The door opened nearly immediately, and the maid stepped tentatively into the room, unsure of what she would see now. "Felicity, I need a bottle of our best German red. And quickly." Felicity took off again, nearly at a run, and the butler reached in to close the door. Chloris had never been so thankful for the two of them in her life. She turned and cut a small piece of cheese from the plate and plucked it up, and fed it gently to her husband. She looked at him expectantly, as though she needed to make sure he enjoyed it. It was her job, her duty, to satisfy and please her husband. But this was different. She needed to take care of him and make sure that the memories of that horrible place became nothing more but a horrible, distant memory of a nightmare. And while recovering from the experience of Azkaban was no easy process, there would be healing now that Hephaestus was returned to Chloris. Already there was a change: he was clean, warm, fed, and free of that cesspool of human misery. He was home now, with his beloved in his arms, and a future to look forward to again. Everything would be all right. |