Parkinson is an able learner. She's not the best student but she catches on quickly. We learn together and we have becomes quite formidable fighters. A week passes and we know that we don't have much time left. Other students are worrying about their homework and when it's due, we worry about the impending danger that threatens us all.
With each passing day, the bond between Parkinson and myself becomes stronger and deeper. I start telling her of the beatings, the life I have led for the past year. She, in turn, tells me of her broken childhood, riddled through with abuse from both parents and her feelings of failure. We comfort each other and I know we're both afraid that one of us might not make it. I am more afraid for Parkinson, however, because she tends to lose her focus when the pressure's on and start cursing things at random. I have introduced meditation to our practice sessions and it seems to help.
Christmas is approaching and I am guessing that's when things will start to go down. As for now, things are relatively calm. The students of Hogwarts have not noticed anything amiss nor has any of the teachers. I still attract whispers and stares but I'm beyond caring.
Parkinson suggested I go to Dumbledore but I told her of my disastrous encounter and I saw in her eyes the hopelessness I once felt. "We're alone, then," she said and I nod, knowing that no words or gestures I made would comfort her in that moment.
The beatings have stopped and now Draco seems to have dissapeared off of the face of the Earth. I worry about him everyday. Parkinson is worried, too. But not over his well-being.
"Does his dissapearance means it's starting? Already?" she is fond of asking. I tell her not yet. It will start when blood is spilled and right now everyone is fine.
I can tell she is scared of the idea of the undead. I have to admit that its a formidable thought. The idea of the dead rising to life only to wreck havoc on the living. It scares me, too but not as much as it does to Parkinson. She is for the living only, she does not like to think of the dead.
I can see it in her eyes, whenever we're practicing. The fear of dying fuels her, motivates her. It's making her into someone who would fight tooth and nail to keep her life. That is her worst fear, I think. To be obliviated and never be able to come back.
-1 month left-
"Hey, that one's pretty good," I say then straighten the pile of cushions we're both using to practice on. "There's still room for a little improvement so try it again."
Parkinson's face contorts and, with lips pressed tightly together, the pile of cushions goes up in flames. I extinguish it and applaud. "You've got the spell now," I say. I check my watch and say, "Our time's up now. We have to head back to our common rooms before someone notices." I look up and see that Parkinson has wandered over to the window. On her face is such a look of concentration and fear that I go to join her.
"They're leaving," she says tonelessly. I see who she means. Animals are moving in one great mass through the Forest. Their movements are why the trees to sway back and forth in unison. Birds fly in great clouds. All are heading to the mountains where they think they'll be protected from the bloodshed that is to come.
"Hopefully, they'll be safe," I murmur. Fear is threatening to cloud my brain so I turn away from the sight.
"Why don't we go, too?" Parkinson asks, her eyes trained on the departing mass of life.
I don't answer.
"It's Draco, isn't it?" she says. I turn and her eyes meet mine. "You're staying because you're still hoping..." She sees the answer in my eyes and nods her understanding.
"I'll stay, too," Parkinson says then turns away. I magick away the pillows and we make ready to leave.
"See you tomorrow," I say before heading back to the Gryffindor common room.
I don't hear the footsteps behind me until it's too late.