Her wand turned angrily on another tree as she walked through a small forested patch at the back of her home's property. Several of the trunks she'd passed by showed blatant signs of her upset, and of earlier bouts of indignance, fear, despondency. Her charm had worn off earlier that year, when she'd turned seventeen, the same day she'd spent hours in the star-ceilinged room with Draco. Her spells were no longer tracked or punished.
Most of the gashes in the trees' bark, the dark scorch marks, the mangled branches were due to her anger at herself for not being able to do anything. She was stuck with her mother for two entire months. She could perhaps visit Fay, if she wanted badly enough for company, but she didn't know what sort of danger lingered over her own head, and whether it'd be a threat to others, as well. She had no idea how much of the past year's actions and decisions reflected back on her. If her hand in Draco's life had made her as much of a target as he was. Or if she was completely overlooked, hidden away with the skill Draco had in Occlumency that she would never possess.
That fact provoked her just as much. She'd had a conversation with Draco once, about why she wasn't able to master Occlumency, but he was. Even though they were both so well cutout for Slytherin, which was her initial idea of what it took. He'd told her that it was the same reason that she'd fallen in love with him first. She'd tried so hard to be aware of everything, and know exactly where her feelings landed her. She didn't separate her emotions from her mind. Whereas, he tried so hard not to let himself feel anything towards her. He'd compartmentalized his life so that he wouldn't have to deal with all of the undesirable aspects at once, to keep himself from distractions. She had laid everything out in front of herself so she could try to put it all together.
But now, she severed a deep gash into a young oak, not because of anything to do with Draco, but because of everything she couldn't, and didn't do for Natalie. Natalie had told her, and she'd been right. They were picking the Muggle-borns off one at a time. And yet, Rem had let her best friend slip between her fingers, thinking their disagreements about her love life made their friendship tedious and painful. And now, Natalie was gone. Most likely, perpetually.
She wished there was a way the trees could fight back. A little bit of challenge might clear her mind a bit more.
These next six weeks would be near unbearable, if they continued like this.
She took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair, quite surprised she hadn't started crying. She'd managed not to cry, other than immediately after reading the letter. She could imagine that she'd face much worse things yet, before this would all end, and if she broke down into a mess every time something happened, she wouldn't last very long. So, instead, her tears turned into anger.
Her mother allowed her to wreak havoc in the seclusion of the trees, so long as she kept a reasonably low profile. No explosions. No loud bangs or otherwise conspicuous noises. Just small things that she could do without attracting attention, but still releasing her stress. She needed to do so somehow, and it was better to sacrifice a few half-century-old trees than the antique-valued furniture.
Sometimes she spent hours out there, though most of it was wasted by just sitting on the ground and trying to forget about everything but the quietude. It always sounded so silent until she focused on everything else.
It was getting monotonous.