The First Encounter

[Lorenzo Lazuli]

It was raining; that oppressive drizzle that leaves you sodden but gives none of the cooling relief of real rain. Lorenzo did not feel it. He could never feel the weather now. The ghost looked up at the sullen grey sky, standing before the house where he once lived. The building was darkened, as were the others around, but Lorenzo didn't care. Soon the woman he was waiting for would arrive. With a grim anticipation, he was looking forward to it.

 

[Esmerelda Lazuli]

Esmerelda hurried towards her home, cloak wrapped tightly against the rain. She was glad to be home, she had business to attend to. Her plans didn't include stopping abruptly, but nevertheless she did so upon seeing the figure waiting for her. The world seemed to fall away when Esmerelda set eyes upon that face, so familiar, but one she never thought she'd see again.

Her hand, pointing a trembling wand. Her lips, forming those words. The deadly green flash that followed.

"L-Lorenzo."

 

[Lorenzo Lazuli]

Lorenzo gave a genuine smile at his widow's expression. Her face had gone almost as pale as his, though without the added transparency.
"Esmerelda, darling. Surprised to see me? I have good reason to come back, you know. I wanted to see how you and Lapis were getting on."

The woman was still frozen in shock. Lorenzo stepped casually towards her, and reached out as if to touch her dark chaotic hair. It was impossible of course. And all her fault. Lorenzo gazed straight at his murderer. He was going to enjoy this.

 

[Esmerelda Lazuli]

Esmerelda choked on her words, tried to turn it into a feeble laugh, failed miserably.
"I'm sorry." It was all she could think of to say; all the fire had gone out of her shaking body. "I'm so, so sorry."

She couldn't think, couldn't act, couldn't do anything against the ghost of her husband. She was petrified, not even daring to reach down to her wand. And what if she was capable of it? What spell could banish a memory?

 

[Lorenzo Lazuli]

"Yes, Esmerelda I'm sorry too." Lorenzo remained outwardly unruffled, enjoying Esmerelda's stunned reaction. He realised that it was true, what he'd said about being sorry. He honestly regretted the decision he had made four years ago, to gradually withdraw from the Dark Side without telling Esmerelda. In a way, it had been the cause of all this. If he hadn't had moral scruples, if the other Death Eaters hadn't found out . . . but it was useless now to review what he had done.

 

[Esmerelda Lazuli]

With abrupt finality, Esmerelda dredged up the courage to move. She walked straight through Lorenzo to her front door, shuddering at the sensation it created. With jerky movements she unlocked the front door, and strode into her dark house. Glancing at herself in the hall mirror, Esmerelda saw how terrible she looked; frazzled wet hair, pale face, streaky mascara.
"I've been crying," she muttered to herself. Esmerelda hadn't even noticed the tears streaming down her cheeks during the encounter with her husband, but knew Lorenzo would have. He always noticed every little detail, he always understood why.

Esmerelda barged into her living room, but stopped abruptly when she saw Lorenzo sitting there.
"What do you want from me?" she asked, and her voice came out as a shocked and fragile whisper.

 

[Lorenzo Lazuli]

Lorenzo was reclining on Esmerelda's favourite armchair; plump green velvet. He looked totally at home and so he should be. After all, this was his home. Once. Now it felt desolate to him: he couldn't get over all that had happened in this very room. The ghost had indeed noticed Esmerelda's tears, and he was beginning to believe that she too honestly regretted her actions. And it was tragic to realise that after all that had happened, they were still in love.

He didn't know what to answer her question with. To be honest, Lorenzo had no idea what he was doing here. He'd heard that people became ghosts when they had unfinished business and he certainly had that, but he also had no idea what to do about it. Perhaps some sort of reconciliation was the best plan . . .
"I have no idea," he replied simply.

 

[Esmerelda Lazuli]

Now, quite suddenly, Esmerelda's terror vanished. It was replaced by a slowly accumulating rage, as she stared at the transparent form of her husband. The Death Eater threw herself down onto the chair opposite and glowered at him.
"You don't know! You don't know! All this pretending to be cool and heartache and pain you've caused me, or I've caused me, or something I don't know anymore, and you don't know!"

After this furious tirade, Esmerelda could do nothing but collapse again, the fury leaving her as swiftly as it came. She sank back onto the soft cushions, drained of all energy.
"Well," she said quietly, "if you don't know, I can't tell you. I don't know what to say, Lorenzo. All I can do is ask you why. Why did you have to stop supporting the Death Eaters? And why did you keep it a secret from me?"
I would have helped you, she thought. I would have abandoned my dreams and followed you to the end of the world, but I was so desperate. So desperate.

 

[Lorenzo Lazuli]

Lorenzo looked on as Esmerelda ranted. He wanted so much to forgive her, to comfort her, to let everything go back to the way it had been. But four years and his own death had made that impossible, and now his widow would just have to live with the consequences.
"Yes," he said quietly, deliberately speaking slowly, keeping the trauma out of his voice. He couldn't let her see his pain. Not now. Once there had been trust; no longer. "I don't know. I was hoping we could work it out . . . somehow." Silently he asked himself, work what out? I'm dead: it's not like we can fix our relationship. He kept those thoughts within his mind.

Lorenzo almost laughed at Esmerelda's abrupt decrescendo. He'd never seen her so hopeless and vunerable before, almost happy that he could make her cry. It was tragic, the whole thing.
"Why? Well, I'll try. I realised the wrongness of what I was doing. What we were doing. I realised that even Muggles are people, and that by adhering to the Dark Side I was robbing our daughter of a future. Esmerelda, I didn't want to hurt her. We both know Lapis would have worked this out sooner or later- she's a smart kid, and I wouldn't expect any less of her. How would she feel?" He paused. "How does she feel?"

The ghost didn't answer Esmerelda's second question. The truth was, he knew that had been a mistake, and it broke his heart to see what Esmerelda had done with her life. That she'd followed the same path he had, made exactly the same mistakes. Only she didn't realise it yet. Perhaps that was what he was here to do: draw Esmerelda away from the Death Eaters. He did not care about saving her soul or whatever anymore. He was more concerned about their daughter. On the occasions when he had gotten into trouble, they'd kept the truth secret from the girl. Said he was away on a business trip. Sick in hospital. Anything but what was really happening. But Lapis Lazuli was too old for that now. When Esmerelda was caught by Aurors (and of course she would be), there'd be no-one to look after her. How would the girl's life be impacted by having a parent in Azkaban? Lorenzo couldn't say. But it wouldn't be good.

 

[Esmerelda Lazuli]

Esmerelda listened to her husband's speech silently, struggling to keep the tears she could feel from building up in her eyes. He was right. But she wasn't prepared to admit that. Esmerelda still enjoyed being a Death Eater; the wickedness of it all, the sense that she was finally in control of her own life. And now he had to come back and ruin it. Of course she was concerned about her daughter, but Esmerelda felt it was time that she did nomething for herself. Something she had been wanting to do for a long time. It was a shame that Lapis didn't like it though . . .

"She's . . . coping." Esmerelda didn't really want to think about the girl's reaction. "I don't see her very much these days, what with school and everything. Of course she's going to Hogwarts New Zealand. Got into Ravenclaw." Esmerelda almost smiled. She had finally found a topic it was safe to talk about, and something that Lorenzo would want to know. "She's using your wand, and she's still playing her flute. Our clever, talented little girl." It was nice to avoid the question that had actually been asked. Esmerelda didn't mention the frantic letters that had passed between them, Lapis's denial, fury, then grudging acceptance.