A/N: Hello everyone! I just want to take the time to thank a few people who reviewed the last chapter.

Jazz E. Roisin: Thank you so much for all your encouragement! It made my day to open my email and see I had several review from you.

SweetieCherrie: Ugh, I know how you feel…I'd desperately love for Ara and Lyra to join the Golden Trio, but things are too complicated for it work out that easily.

Thank you to everyone else who's reviewed so far, I truly appreciate it! I hope you'll continue to do so, as it's your reviews that push me to keep writing =] Now, on to chapter 9!

Chapter 9 – The Truth Shall Set You Free

My dear Ara,

Your letters leave much to be desired, my darling niece. I know that you have been forbidden to speak, but it pains me to have to accept this. It is wrong of me to ask you to break your silence, certainly, but you have to understand, Ara, you are much too young to be involved in any of this. The only worry darkening your mind should be your O.W.L.s, and it infuriates me that I don't know the nature of the mysterious burden placed on your shoulders. But you are stubborn, just like your uncle and sister, and I know it would be foolish to attempt to reason with the three of you.

Speaking of your uncle, he sends his love. He's been rather busy at the Ministry lately, helping with Fudge's latest decree. I daresay you will find out about that soon enough, so I won't risk detailing it here, but hopefully it will manage to exercise a little more control over the less worthy Houses of Hogwarts.

Carina extends her regards to you as well. She's managed to secure a job in the Ministry, I'll have her write and tell you all about it.

Stay safe, my love. Remember, I am only an owl away.

All my love,

Aunt Cissy

I scratch Orion behind the ears absentmindedly as I read, his throat vibrating against my stomach with a contented purring. I reach the end of my aunt's letter and roll my eyes, folding it neatly along the creases and tossing it on to the table in front of me. Abraxas hoots softly from his position on the mantle, his amber eyes fixed on me reproachfully. "I don't have anything for you," I tell him, a bite of impatience in my voice. "Should have waited until tomorrow and came with the morning post, shouldn't you have?"

Abraxas emits another doleful hoot. I immediately regret snapping at him; I know none of this is his fault. I sigh tiredly and rub my forehead, glancing at the ornate, emerald-faced grandfather clock in the corner of the Slytherin common room: nearly 12:30 A.M. I'd managed to avoid everyone after the disastrous scene in the Hog's Head, returning to the castle without Cassie and Madeleine and spending nearly the entire evening in the library. Madam Pince had finally kicked me out at around nine, snapping at me to return her precious books and get to bed. I'd sought refuge in the trophy room instead, however, perusing a Potions journal I'd been able to nick when Madam Pince's back was turned and praying that Filch wouldn't catch me. When I was certain my friends and sister had gone to bed, I took the quickest route I knew back to the Slytherin common room – and that's when I spotted Abraxas, following me from window to window as I crossed the first floor and pecking feverishly on the glass until I let him in.

Aunt Cissy's letter comes as no surprise to me; she's been sending them every few days since my trip to the manor in an attempt to convince me to tell her what happened that night. The only thing I'm convinced of is that she orders Abraxas to bring the letters directly to me no matter what time it is or where I am – the poor thing has already shown up in half of my classes, bearing a roll of parchment with the Malfoy seal. "I'm sorry, Abraxas," I apologize to the owl, coaxing him over and holding my arm out for him to rest on. He hesitates before defiantly obliging, landing a little harder than necessary and turning his head from me. "Come on, don't be like that," I say softly, stroking his feathered head. "I'll give you extra at breakfast tomorrow morning, all right? I promise."

Abraxas fixes me with a beady eye, then gives an agreeable hoot. At the noise, Orion stands and stretches luxuriously, then settles back down and nuzzles his head against my arm. Yawning, I lie back in my armchair and stroke his head, wondering if Carina has figured out yet that I took the cat to school with me – she's almost obsessively possessive about Orion, even though he was a gift to the four of us the year Draco and I started at Hogwarts. Thoughts of the day – as well as Aunt Cissy's reference to the mysterious new decree – swim through my head, but I'm so mentally exhausted that the images aren't clear, merely a blurred mess of colors and faces. I feel myself dozing off as the last flames of the fire die down to nothing more than glowing coals, reflecting weakly off of the glass table…

"Miss Ara Lestrange!"

I nearly jump out of my skin. Orion hisses in fright and digs his claws into my thigh as he leaps to the ground, causing me to yelp with pain; Abraxas screeches and glides back to the mantle. Heart racing, I turn around in my chair and spot a house elf, her large eyes wide as she twists the hem of her Hogwarts toga in her tiny hands. "What the hell?" I ask wildly, running a hand through my hair. "You can't just go sneaking up on people like that, give me a bloody heart attack – "

"Winnie is sorry, miss, but Winnie has an important message for Miss Ara," the elf squeaks, pulling a roll of parchment from the pocket of her toga and handing it to me.

I stare down at it, dumbfounded. "And you found 12:30 in the morning to be the most convenient time to give it to me?"

"Miss was not at dinner," the elf replies smoothly. "Professor Umbridge asked Winnie to deliver the message earlier, miss, but miss was nowhere to be found!"

"You managed to find me now," I mutter sullenly. I glance down at the letter in my hands. "This is from Professor Umbridge?"

The elf nods vigorously, her batlike ears slapping the sides of her face. "Yes, miss," she answers cheerily. "And now that Winnie has done her duty, miss, she must kindly ask that you return to bed, miss. It is late, and Winnie has much cleaning around the Slytherin dungeons to be getting on with, miss."

I'm definitely exhausted, and Cassie and Madeleine had to have fallen asleep hours ago. "All right," I mumble, vaguely wondering when Umbridge had time to seek out an elf to do her bidding, as well as what in the world she could possibly want from me. "Thank you – er – Winnie, is it?"

"Yes, miss, Winnie at your service!" the elf replies, bowing deeply.

"Er…right," I say, unsuccessfully trying to smother a yawn. "Listen, while you're here, would you mind taking my owl back to the Owlery? He can't stay here…I'd take him myself, but I don't think I'll be lucky enough to dodge Filch all night –"

"Winnie will attend to it, miss!" she answers, apparently overjoyed that I've added another task to her list. She runs to the mantle and holds out a tiny arm to Abraxas. The owl glances at me warily, as if he can't believe I'm entrusting him to a Hogwarts house elf, but I prompt him with a nod. Looking thoroughly disgruntled, he drops softly onto Winnie's shoulder, purposefully ignoring her outstretched arm.

"To bed now, if you please, miss, and Winnie will take good care of miss' owl!" the elf says confidently as I head towards the girls' dormitories. "Sleep well, Miss Ara, and perhaps Winnie will be fortunate enough to encounter such a kind miss again!"

I roll my eyes once more as I reach the peace of the staircase; that "over-eagerness to please" quality that most house elves possess gets irritating after so long. I pause and drop down onto the third stair, unfurling Umbridge's parchment as I do so:

Miss Lestrange,

If it so suits you, I should like to have the pleasure of your company tomorrow afternoon for tea. I shall expect you in my office no later than four o'clock.

Sincerely,

Dolores Umbridge

An invitation to afternoon tea with the Umbitch.

What a perfect end to the day.

I wait until Cassie and Madeleine have dressed and gone down to breakfast the next morning before getting out of bed. I toss my hair up into a messy bun, running over in my mind what I'm going to say to them – I can't avoid them forever, and besides, after skipping dinner the previous night, I'm starving. I come up with no believable excuses, however, for keeping the truth hidden from them, and the only course of action seems to be to corroborate Harry's story. Sighing heavily, I take one last look in the mirror before heading back into the dormitory and towards the door, taking care not to wake the still slumbering Pansy and Daphne.

The Great Hall is, as usual, crowded with the hustle and bustle of hundreds of students. I glance automatically up at the staff table as I enter, unintentionally catching Professor Umbridge's eye. She nods politely and smiles widely, wordlessly confirming that I'll turn up outside her office at precisely 4:00. Feeling a bit of my appetite ebb away, I take my usual seat at the Slytherin table, taking harsh notice of the way Cassie and Madeleine immediately fall silent.

"Hey, Ara," Cassie says after a moment. I may just be imagining it, but her usually boisterous demeanor seems somehow softer and more guarded. "Where were you last night?"

"We were worried," Madeleine adds, as I load my plate with eggs and toast. "You missed dinner."

I take a large bite of toast before answering. "I was in the library," I say finally, as the post owls fly in with the morning mail. I spy Abraxas among them, making a beeline towards me. "Calm down, I'm not going to break my promise, you idiot," I tell the owl irritably as he lands heavily next to my plate, jostling for a bit of my food. I separate a portion of eggs from my plate and, for the promised extra treat, toss in a few morsels of toast.

Abraxas gobbles up the food quickly, brushing my shoulder affectionately with his wings as he takes off. The air between my friends and I is still rather uncomfortable, and I pretend not to notice them exchange looks before Cassie speaks again. "We…um…we didn't join, Ara," she says, a bit timidly.

"Lyra was terribly angry," Madeleine whispers, glancing down the table to make sure my sister is out of earshot. She's at almost the other end, determinedly avoiding looking down our way. "And I can't say any of the others were very happy, either…that git Smith still thinks we're going to turn them all in."

I snort. "How surprising," I mutter, taking a sip of my pumpkin juice. My friends seem normal, but I know I'm not out of the woods yet; the Dark Lord is bound to come up sooner or later.

"Granger made us swear that we wouldn't tell anyone," Cassie adds, pushing her eggs around on her plate absentmindedly. "I don't understand why she trusts us so much, I certainly wouldn't trust any of them so easily."

"It's Ara they trust, not us," Madeleine corrects her.

"Then why would they invite us along too?"

"I don't know, Cassie. Perhaps they think that since we're her friends, we're just as trustworthy?"

"It was Lyra who told me to bring the pair of you," I interrupt them, setting my fork down. "She must have mentioned it to Harry and Hermione, they didn't question any of us being there."

We're quiet for a few minutes, finishing our breakfasts in silence. I can tell both of them are bursting to question me, and I put my money on Cassie to crack first. Sure enough, the silence becomes too much for her to bear and she spits it out, her words quick and to the point: "Is Potter's story true?"

I really and truly don't want to deal with this. I take my time in answering, choosing to polish off my eggs first. Finally, when I can stall no more, I take a deep breath and look up. Two pairs of eyes are staring at me quizzically. "Ara?" prods Cassie. "You can tell us. It's okay."

Her words do nothing to reassure me, but all the same I glance around us to make sure no one is listening. I've made my decision – either way, they're going to find out eventually. "Yes," I whisper miserably. "It's true. All of it."

Neither of them looks as if they quite know what to say. Cassie's fork is frozen in midair, a bit of scrambled egg wobbling precariously on the edge. The expression on her face is easy to interpret: shocked, but curious at the same time. Madeleine is a little more difficult to read, her brow furrowed as she twirls a lock of blonde hair aimlessly around her finger, wincing when she pulls too hard on her scalp. If the situation weren't so serious I might find their reactions comical.

Cassie, predictably, recovers her powers of speech first. "Did Potter really witness his return, then?" she asks, throwing her fork down and regarding me with interest. "How exactly did he come back? I mean, he was just a spirit before, wasn't he? Well, when he wasn't poking out of the back of teachers' heads, that is –"

"Why didn't you tell us, Ara?" Madeleine cuts across her, posing the question I'd been expecting to hear since yesterday afternoon. Her voice holds the tiniest hint of an accusation, and I can tell she'd wanted me to deny everything, to tell them it wasn't true.

I bite my lip, unsure of how to answer her. Thankfully, the ever-tactless Cassie saves me the trouble of doing so: "What's wrong with you, Lady Marianne?" she says, giving Madeleine a look that suggests she's out of her mind. "I wouldn't tell anyone either! I'd be afraid everyone would turn against me! What are you, insane?"

"Is that what you thought, Ara?" Mad asks coldly. "That we'd turn against you?"

I'm still speechless, unable to form my thoughts into coherent words. My expression apparently speaks for itself, however, because Madeleine stands angrily, her next words like a slap to the face. "We've always stood by you, Ara," she snaps, causing several students to turn and stare. "Nobody knows you better than we do. Did you really think we'd abandon you over something like this, no matter how terrible it is? Do you really think that little of our friendship?"

My mouth drops open. "Mad, please," I plead, knowing I need to do something to pacify her before it's too late. "You – you don't know what it's like –"

"That's right, I don't come from a family of Death Eaters," Madeleine retorts, her light blue eyes flashing. "I wouldn't know what it's like, would I?"

I feel as if I've just had the wind knocked out of me. "Way below the belt, Maddie," Cassie hisses, crossing her arms and fixing Madeleine with a scolding look.

"Shut up, Cass," Madeleine spits at her. She turns back to me. "What's the matter, Ara? Nothing to say?"

This is entirely what I'd been wishing to avoid. I'd pictured my friends reacting in this manner a million times over, but actually seeing it played out in front of me is nothing short of disconcerting. "I hadn't wanted you to find out like this," I murmur, staring down at my plate. "I swear, Mad, I only kept this from you because I didn't want it to ruin our friendship. I…I didn't want you guys to see me like everybody else does. Like everybody else will, once they find out the truth."

Madeleine gives me a look of deepest disgust. "It's a bit late for that, wouldn't you say?" she says nastily, spinning on her heel and stalking out of the Great Hall, leaving a stunned silence in her wake.

My entire body feels numb; it's a struggle to breathe and to be quite honest, I have no idea what to do. Tears well in my eyes, threatening to spill over. I look over at Cassie expectantly, fighting to keep my tears at bay, waiting for her to walk out on me too.

After a moment, Cassie reaches across the table and takes my hand, giving it a tight squeeze. "You're still you, Ara," she says softly. "You're still you."

I reach Dolores Umbridge's office at exactly four, taking a moment to smooth my robes before knocking on her door. "You're having tea with the Umbitch?" Cass had asked incredulously when I'd told her of my afternoon plans. "She wrote to you and invited you to tea? Seriously?"

"Seriously," I'd repeated, flipping disinterestedly through my Charms book. We'd been sitting in the common room, each attempting to work on the essay on Silencing Charms Professor Flitwick had set us, Madeleine nowhere to be found.

Cassie had scribbled down a sentence, reread it, and then crossed it out. "What does she want?" she'd asked, chewing on her bottom lip in concentration.

I'd shrugged. "I don't know. I'll let you know. If I manage to survive, that is."

If I manage to survive, I think sardonically to myself, hesitating before knocking gently on Umbridge's door. "Come in," she calls sweetly, and I push open the door and enter.

The second I do I feel as if I should have brought a pair of those Muggle glasses – shades, I believe they're called – in order to spare my vision: a shock of bright, hot pink assaults my eyesight like a jolt of lightning. It's everywhere, on the walls, on the dead-looking flowers residing in a vase on her desk, on the lacy cloths covering every surface of her office, on the ugly ornamental plates decorating the wall furthest from the door. All I can do is stare, growing slowly nauseated, until Umbridge speaks again.

"Good afternoon, Miss Lestrange!"

She's sitting behind her desk, beaming, tea already prepared. "Good afternoon," I reply warily, not moving an inch from the doorway.

Umbridge's smile grows wider, and once again I'm surprised at how much it's possible for her to resemble a toad. "Sit down, dear," she says kindly, drawing her wand and conjuring a seat for me in front of her desk. I sit down gingerly, watching as she pours me a cup of tea, adding milk and sugar at my discretion. "Well now, Miss Lestrange," she says finally, once she's fixed herself with a cup as well, "I must say I'm rather pleased to finally have the opportunity to chat with you outside of class!"

Her words remind me unpleasantly of the Dark Lord. I sip my tea slowly, waiting for her to go on.

Umbridge surveys me closely. "Do you know why you're here, Miss Lestrange?" she asks.

I shake my head. "No."

Umbridge sets her cup down and locks her fingers together, resting them on the desk in front of her. "I think, Miss Lestrange, it would be rather appropriate for us to have a talk after the incident that occurred at the Hog's Head yesterday afternoon," she says gravely, gauging my reaction.

I nearly choke on my tea. "I – incident?" I repeat, bewildered. She can't know. She can't. There's no way.

Umbridge grins smugly, stretching her pallid features. "Yes, I thought you might remember it," she says lightly. "I should like to thank you, Miss Lestrange."

I stare at her, utterly perplexed. "Thank me?"

"Yes, thank you," Umbridge responds. "As I'm certain you are very well aware, I have been trying since the beginning of the school year to quash Harry Potter's unfortunate tendency towards chronic lying – an endeavor, I'm sorry to say, that has so far had little effect on his impudent mind. That being said – and due to the fact that I regrettably cannot keep my eye on him at all times – it is useful to me to have others keep me up to date on his antics."

I listen carefully, having a vague idea of what she's getting at.

"It was Willy Widdershins – the heavily bandaged fellow, as you might recall – who immediately alerted me to Potter's intention to start a secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group," Umbridge goes on. "He also informed me of the – shall I say, for lack of a better word, scene that you caused in response to this group." She offers me a tin filled with ginger cookies.

I take one, nibbling on it nervously.

"You made the right choice, Miss Lestrange," Umbridge says, sounding unusually proud. "It is wise in these times to ally yourself with the Ministry. Potter is nothing but a nasty, attention-seeking liar, and such behavior is not acceptable within this school." She finishes off her tea. "You've earned your House twenty points, Miss Lestrange, as well as my favor."

I slouch a bit in my chair, irritated with this entire meeting. I'm relieved that Umbridge thinks I only told off Lyra because I'm against Potter's defense group, and not because my sister was actually considering joining – extremely relieved. But the fact that she's awarded me House points tells me much more. "Are you asking me to spy on Harry Potter?" I ask bluntly, jumping straight to the point.

Umbridge laughs girlishly. "My, you are an intelligent girl," she says, apparently impressed that I've caught on so quickly. "Not spy, Miss Lestrange, that has such a negative connotation – merely keep an eye on Potter when I'm not around. Report to me with any false stories he may be spreading around the school. I encourage all students to come to me for the truth, Miss Lestrange, and I won't have vicious little brats like Potter besmirching the halls of Hogwarts with their filthy lies."

I'm at a loss for words. Umbridge is watching me closely, as if she already knows what my answer is going to be. More from of a desire to get out of her office than anything else, I decide to appease her: "I'll do my best."

Umbridge smiles widely. "Good girl," she simpers, satisfied, though I don't mean a word of what I've just pledged. "It's always reassuring to know I can still count on those from my own House, despite how long I've been out of school." She pulls out her wand, Vanishing the tea set with a wave. "You are dismissed."

Hermione takes her usual seat next to me Monday afternoon in Arithmancy. I'm surprised; after the Hogsmeade visit and Umbridge's latest decree (Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four – the prohibition of any team, group, club, etc. that does not have permission to exist from the High Inquisitor), the last thing I'd anticipate from her is an attempt at any sort of friendship. "Hello, Ara," she greets me politely, swinging her enormous bag onto the desk in front of her. I half expect it to collapse under the weight of all her books.

I watch her struggle to prevent her bag from toppling over. "Hi, Hermione," I reply, setting down my quill. "Do you need a hand?"

"Oh – no – I've got it, thanks," Hermione says breathlessly, managing to balance her books. She begins rummaging through her bag, presumably searching for her Arithmancy book.

I nod but don't say anything else, hoping she won't continue to talk to me. No such luck. "Um…so, I suppose you saw Umbridge's latest decree this morning," Hermione says, somewhat nervously, sliding into her seat.

I should have known I'd have to endure a round of questioning on this, and I realize I'm sick and tired of being constantly interrogated. "I didn't say anything to her, Hermione," I answer irritably, doodling aimlessly on the corner of my parchment. "Doubt me if you'd like, I can't say it's entirely unexpected."

"I don't doubt you, Ara," Hermione says quietly, her dark brown eyes sincere and earnest, and I can tell she genuinely means it. "Harry trusts you and your sister."

"My sister won't even speak to me," I admit grudgingly, crossing my arms. Lyra has maintained a stony silence since Saturday's events, though I've tried once or twice to get her to break her icy distance. "Not that any of that matters to you… I just don't understand what Harry sees in us. Draco hates him, you would think Harry would treat us in the same manner."

Hermione shrugs. "You stuck up for him," she says simply. "And against Malfoy himself, at that."

I snort. "That wasn't me sticking up for Harry. That was me trying to stop Draco from being his prat self."

Hermione smiles gently. "Either way, that's what sets you apart. I personally think it's rather beneficial for Harry to try for a bit of inter-House unity with Slytherin." She falls silent and stares down at her book, frustration overcoming her features. "I just wish I knew who had done this…it can't have been anyone in the D.A., I cursed that parchment they all signed, if one of them had told, I'd know right away…"

"It wasn't anyone in the group," I interrupt her fretting. "Nor was it Cassie or Madeleine…" I hesitate, wondering if I should reveal who the true culprit was. What can it hurt? "It was another man in the pub. The one wrapped up in bandages? He told on you – well, more specifically, on Harry – to Umbridge."

Hermione turns red with fury. "How do you know?" she asks, her voice trembling.

I hesitate once more, but decide I may as well tell her everything. "Umbridge told me. She thinks I was trying to stand up to you guys."

"That twisted – mad – horrible old hag!" Hermione spits out, her cheeks growing even more crimson. "Oh, wait until Harry hears about this – we can't keep on with the D.A. if she knows about us – I absolutely abhor that woman!"

We both look up as Professor Vector enters, precariously balancing a stack of homework in one hand and her briefcase in the other. Umbridge's toad-like face appears in my mind, glowing, giving every impression that she expects nothing but loyalty from me in the future. "You and I both," I mutter, accepting the homework assignment Professor Vector hands back to me, a bright red E shining in the upper corner.

It's another tough week. Neither Lyra nor Madeleine speaks to me, and poor Cassie, trapped in the middle, does her best to be impartial. It's easy to avoid Madeleine, as she has Quidditch practice nearly every evening, but Lyra is a bit more difficult; I can feel her burning, reproving looks from across the crowded common room. I want to make peace with my sister, but I don't know what I'd say – I've betrayed her, perhaps not in the worst way possible, but definitely badly enough to hurt.

I head down to the lake after dinner Sunday evening, intending on having a few moments' peace to myself. Madeleine had made several subtle, cutting jabs about me to Cassie throughout the meal, never mentioning my name directly, but leaving no doubt that I was the subject of her remarks. Entirely fed up with her attitude, I'd told Cassie that I was taking a walk on my own and left before she could try to stop me.

I reach the lake and take a seat on the grass, knowing I'm probably not supposed to be out here but not really caring. The giant squid floats lazily on top of the water, seemingly asleep, its tentacles twitching every so often and creating a gentle ripple effect. For October, it's still reasonably warm, but the foreshadowing of fall is undeniable: the tops of the trees that make up the Forbidden Forest are turning a light golden brown, and there's a crispness in the air that occasionally chills me and makes me wish I'd brought my cloak.

"Moneroy told me you'd be out here."

I start and turn around. Draco is standing there, arms crossed casually, his trademark smirk in place. "What do you want?" I grumble, turning back to the lake. I'm really not in the mood to deal with his smart ass comments at the moment.

Draco drops his arms and bends down, grasping a smooth granite rock firmly in his hand. "Remember when we were kids and spent hours at that lake near the manor?" he asks, studying the rock intently. "Car and I were the champions at skipping rocks." To prove his point, he draws back his arm and skips the rock over the surface of the water, putting just the right flick on his wrist to make it travel a good distance. It finally hits one of the giant squid's tentacles, and the creature lets out a screech of annoyance, glaring at Draco with one scarlet eye.

"What do you want, Draco?" I repeat, rolling my eyes.

Draco sits down next to me, drawing his knees up under his arms. "I heard what Abgrall was saying to you at dinner," he says quietly. "I should have jinxed her into oblivion."

I shake my head. "It doesn't matter," I say, admiring the way the sun casts a pinkish-orange reflection on the lake's surface. "They would have found out eventually. I suppose I'm just lucky Cassie isn't treating me like I have some sort of infectious disease."

"All the same, Abgrall's your friend," Draco points out. "If Crabbe or Goyle treated me the way she's been treating you I'd pummel them."

"Crabbe and Goyle come from Death Eater families, Draco, they would never act that way towards you," I retort. "Madeleine doesn't. She doesn't know how else to react."

"And that makes it acceptable?"

I shrug. "No. Not really. But that's just the way it is."

We sit in silence for a moment, watching as the giant squid awakens fully and disappears under the water. "This is all precious Potter's fault, starting stupid defense groups," Draco finally says disgustedly, running a hand through his white-blonde hair. "And Lyra… believing all his nonsense –"

"How did you know about that?" I interject, looking at him curiously. "Don't tell me you mentioned anything about it to Umbridge –"

Draco smirks. "I thought about it, but unfortunately somebody beat me to the punch," he answers nonchalantly. "Lyra tried to convince me to join, as if I'd lower myself enough to mingle with Potter's band of Muggle lovers and Mudbloods…it doesn't surprise me that she's joined up, though, next thing you know she'll be married to a Weasley."

"She's ignoring me," I whisper, the breeze ruffling my hair. "So is Madeleine."

"Abgrall is a bitch," Draco says, point-blank, putting his arm around me and pulling me close. "And Lyra will come to her senses once she realizes how absolutely foolish it is to side with Potter." He gives me a little squeeze. "It will all turn out in our favor, Ara."

I rest my head tiredly against his shoulder, blinking back tears. "Do you promise?"

Draco chuckles and kisses the side of my forehead. "I promise."

Aww, a little cousin love. I felt they needed it after the fight from the previous chapter, lol.

Reviews would be appreciated!