Again thanks for all the lovely comments, people! You are making writing this story totally worthwhile, and I wish I could find the time to hug every one of you. In the least creepy way possible.
Wherein I get attacked by snowballs, and a really crazy plan.
I woke up Sunday morning full to the brim with happiness. Encased in my duvet, I shuffled out of it; grimacing as my bare feet touched the cold, stone floor. Stretching dramatically, I peered out the window, and did a double take as I saw the thin layer of snow covering the school grounds stretching out several stories below. My mood improved even more vastly at the prospect of snowballs and remaking snowmen that Antony and I had once scattered across the clock tower courtyard; giving them hooked noses and sneakily creating a mini Snape army to scare people. Unfortunately they had melted strangely quickly. Owing to the fact their destruction had coincided with me seeing Snape walk past us on the way to Hogsmeade, I had the feeling that he had probably burnt them.
Last night had been pretty good, at least in my opinion. Whereas the rest of the Ravenclaw team had been fairly devastated on their defeat, I was elated, and while hardly anyone had seemed to care that I was a decent Quidditch player, Terry and Antony had been thrilled for me.
That, on top of the fact that I was going now into Hogsmeade just before Christmas had me practically skipping down to the Great Hall, armed with a thick scarf; hooded duffle coat and my feet wrapped thick socks and stuffed into wellington boots. I was totally prepared for a day trip through the snow.
I was not prepared, however, for the face full of snow I received upon entering the hall.
I gave a very high pitched shriek; partly because the snow was really cold, but mainly because I really had not seen that coming. I swear Divination was supposed to at least hint at the probability of this kind of thing. Shaking the snow from my face, and feeling the skin there nervously start to come back to life, I met the faces of a few laughing Slytherins.
"And who would have thought you played Quidditch yesterday with reflexes like that, Forester. Are you sure you didn't get someone to play for you?" Pansy Parkinson squealed happily. Judging from the fact she was wiping down her hands on her jacket, I came to the conclusion she was the culprit for the reason my face was now freezing.
"I sincerely hope you get frost bite," I shot at her, not feeling quite up to my usual standards of retorts. I think it was owed to the odd feeling that my face was melting. Not waiting for her to reply, I shoved past her, hurrying along to the Ravenclaw table and seizing the nearest jug full of hot contents that I could find. Pressing it to my face, I relaxed again; absent-mindedly looking up at the Slytherin table.
With idiots like Pansy and crew leaving the hall, I took a while to notice that Malfoy was actually sitting there alone. I naturally had assumed he was with her, and I found it weird he was sitting alone, for once not hurling insults or gloating at anybody. Maybe they had all realised just how irritating he was. I realised I was getting dangerously close to focusing too intently on him for weird, abnormal reasons, and, grabbing a slice of toast, I dashed to the doors; not bothering to wait for Terry and Antony; who were probably going to be sleeping for a good few more hours.
I was meeting Mulciber just outside the castle in the clock tower courtyard, where I had to maintain cautiousness; as snowballs were flying everywhere; particularly owed to Fred and George Weasley, who were enchanting them to ricochet around the courtyard; hitting people on the backs of their heads with soft 'thlumps'.
Wrapped up tightly, with my hood up and scarf pulled up to my nose, I think Mulciber nearly walked past me. But the smile he shot me when he recognised the top half of my face was friendly; and had me hastily readjusting my look to a more attractive one. Yanking the scarf down, I returned the grin.
We walked towards Hogsmeade, filling the air that had the distinct silence of falling snow with small talk. And for my part, goofy jokes when I felt awkward.
When we were nearly entering the town, I realised we had caught up with a group of students clad in dark clothing; bundled out in scarves and hats too. I groaned inwardly as I recognised the back of Pansy's head. I could handle her rubbish insults, and just about take care of her throwing snowballs. But her seeing me with Mulciber was something I'm not sure I could handle. It was an angle I was totally unprepared in handling. Luckily, they hadn't turned around and therefore had not noticed us; and I searched around for something to lead us towards, and away from them.
"Zonkos!" I finally exclaimed, gesturing towards the gaudy, vivid window display that was a stark contrast to the washed out surroundings filled with falling snow.
To be honest, Zonkos was the last place I would expect to see someone quiet and withdrawn like Mulciber, but he followed me none the less, with only a slightly small frown to show his reluctance.
I ended up buying some stink pellets and a fanged Frisbee, just for something to buy. I supposed, after Antony's enthusiastic reaction to the yo-yo he had confiscated a few weeks ago, I was thinking along the lines of handing this to him for his Christmas present.
The snow was falling heavier when we exited the shop, with me clutching a bag even gaudier than the shop window. My teeth immediately started chattering, and I was contemplating putting my scarf over my face again when Mulciber spoke.
"Let's go in here." He said softly, touching my arm to grab my attention and show where he was looking.
I followed his eyes to a shop sign that was squeaking slightly in the freezing wind. Below what was already a pretty impressive pile of snow, I made out the words Mishengl's Books and Scrolls.
"Books?" I read hesitantly, already feeling lost. Hell, the last time I had read something and enjoyed it... well. Mulciber ignored my rather horrified comment, and lead me into the shop. The musty smell of pages bound in leather casing met my nostrils; and even I had to admit they smelled pretty good. Definitely a lot better than those potions books that smelled like entrails and sulphur. Unless that was just Malfoy.
I trailed behind Mulciber, receiving a look from the owner (Mishengl, I presumed) that seemed to agree with me that I did not belong here.
"Why are we here?" I hissed in my quietest voice, bringing my scarf over my mouth in a over exaggerated attempt at being silent. I hoped that would satisfy Mishengl.
"I love reading." Mulciber murmured quietly, brushing the backs of some of the books' spines gently. I was surprised at his display of preferences. It was really the first time he had let me in on something like this, and it felt a little weird. And yet it was nice weird.
"That's why I never see you at lunch, then," I grinned, leaning against one of the bookshelves and absent-mindedly playing with the ends of my scarf, "You were holed up in a library."
"And I doubt you would have a clue where it is."
The laugh I gave to this comment was obviously too loud, as I was shushed by Mishengl. Before I could respond with a loud whisper on the trustworthiness of bookshops with stupid, long names, Mulciber shoved a book under my nose.
"Have you read it?"
"No." I said, barely glancing at the cover.
"It's good." In his typical, never-saying-much way, he didn't elaborate. I peered closer at the book in his hands, which gave me little indication of the plot by simply presenting me with gold lettering.
"I'll get it for you." Mulciber finally concluded, and I looked curiously at the small, wry smile curling the edges of his lips, "You'll enjoy it."
"Doubtful," I muttered when he wasn't listening, but couldn't help but feel a little warm inside as he took the book to the counter. That was the first time anyone had bought me something when it wasn't a special occasion. Unless you count my sister when she bought me a pygmy puff then had promptly given it to herself. That turned out to be more of a mercy that I had not realised at the time.
"You seem awfully keen in getting me to read something." I teased as we exited Mishengl's shop, "Are you trying to make me a good student? Because I think you should know that's a long lost cause."
Mulciber let out a small laugh, almost inaudible with the loud, fierce wind.
Although his laugh was hard for my ears to hear, the loud chorus of jeers and catcalls, however, I managed to catch. Turning slightly, I caught sight of a few my least favourite people ever. Pansy was leading them, and although they were walking away; the fact that they kept glancing over their shoulders at us left me in little doubt who the shouting had been aimed at.
"Yay, Slytherins," I said unenthusiastically, promptly forgetting whose company I was in. The fact that Mulciber sent me a pretty amused look was lost on me as I looked after Pansy and her gang. Instead, I once again picked up on the fact that Malfoy had not been among them, and as we slowly began the walk back to the castle, I decided that Mulciber's connections to Slytherin might not be an entirely bad thing.
"Hey, you're in Malfoy's house," I said thoughtfully, absent-mindedly rubbing my nose to warm it up, "Has he been acting at all weird lately?"
"I don't talk to him." Mulciber spoke in a way that showed he had absolutely no intention of ever talking to Malfoy. His tone almost made me feel a little awkward for bringing it up. But I was determined.
"Yeah, but you see him," I persisted, giving him my best attempt at a charming, guileless smile. I doubted it made much difference. Mulciber's face remained impassive, "You must be able to see he's being a bit weird this year."
Mulciber shrugged,
"His father failed the Dark Lord and now his family is disgraced," He spoke softly, and I felt a slight prickle of unease his almost tender way of phrasing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's name. I wished we could all call him Voldie to save the breath.
"Among Death Eaters, maybe," I said, refusing to let Mulciber put this down to Malfoy's family. I knew he was up to something, and I wanted proof, "But surely that wouldn't affect him here?"
"Meg," The fact that he said my first name made me reel slightly, "He's in Slytherin house. About seventy percent of the students have someone in their family who is involved with the Dark Lord in some way. Of course his family's actions affect him here."
There it was again, me missing the obvious. I wondered if Malfoy's secret was staring me in the face. I would probably never even realise.
His words sent me on a different train of thought; one I was way too cowardly to ask. Was anyone in Mulciber's family linked to the Dark Lord? Damn. I was starting to call him that too.
I was too caught up in my thoughts to really provide Mulciber with particularly fascinating conversation on the trip back to the castle, and he said goodbye in his normal, slightly awkward and anti-social way once we made it into the Entrance Hall. I had long ago accepted that Mulciber was not one for goodbye hugs, or high fives. Or even handshakes.
I trudged back towards the Ravenclaw tower with my mood contemplative. My brief conversation with Mulciber over Malfoy had opened up a world of possibilities I had never really factored in. Was Malfoy being pressured to do something by his friends? I debated that 'friends' was probably a small exaggeration on Malfoy's relationship with his fellow Slytherins. I could hardly imagine them all having movie nights and secret sharing. The letter I had read presented me with the logical fact that You-Know-Who needed him to do something. But what? Stupid déjà vu. I really needed some new information instead of theories.
And then, in a pretty weird moment, I realised how determined I was to find out what Malfoy was up to. And nothing short of You-Know-Who himself coming up to me and telling me to mind my own business was going to stop me.