Chapter Eleven
Breseis stepped out of the train and looked past the crowd of excitable students and up to the skyline. The teetering roofs of the little village, billows of smoke emanating from their chimneys and hazy lights seeping out from behind curtains, was entirely endearing and not at all to her tastes. However, further back the high reaching spires and turrets, the tall towers and sharp, gothic edges of the castle, silhouetted against the dark purplish blue of the sky took her breath away. She doubted if she had ever seen a piece of architecture more to her taste and she felt her heart flutter at the thought of the mahogany four poster beds and large fire places that Draco had described. She hadn't even entered the school grounds yet and she already felt at home.
Draco watched her drink in her first glimpse of Hogwarts and smiled secretly out of one corner of his mouth. The first time he had seen the school, he had blinked, unable to believe what he was seeing. Breseis believed straight away. She shook her head a little, dazed at the magnificence of Hogwarts and he walked to her side and put a hand on her shoulder.
"Not bad, is it?" he whispered and she shook her head properly this time, allowing him to catch the scent of her luxurious curls as she did so.
A little behind them, Pansy watched sullenly as her boyfriend stood too closely to the new girl. She was exotic, Breseis, Pansy would give her that much- and she had really nice hair. But she was nothing special. Her eyes were a little too close together, she had observed, like many purebloods. The curses of inbreeding had their physical effects. And her bone structure was slightly masculine. And, of course, she was ridiculously skinny. Pansy looked at her silly little toothpick legs in their silly silk stockings and repressed a triumphant laugh: real woman had curves.
"See something you like, Pansy?" Blaise asked silkily at her side, one eyebrow raised cockily.
"Don't be pathetic, Blaise," she tossed some of her long black hair behind her shoulder, "You know just as well as I do that there is nothing to like there."
"Do I?" As she turned to look at him he was already striding towards Breseis and offering to lift her trunk into a carriage for her. Pansy let out a huff at his treachery and marched off in the direction of their carriage with as much disdain as she could muster.
Behind her Draco was following Blaise and dragging his own trunk, chatting away about the Slytherin common room. It took him a while to notice that Breseis was not actually at his side. He looked behind him to see her staring straight in front of her, obviously shocked at something.
"Breseis?" he called, watching as her eyebrows furrowed a little in the light of the train, she didn't move. He rushed back to her side. "Breseis?"
"What are those horribleā¦things?" she whispered, pointing in the direction of the carriage with one hand and grabbing his arm with the other..
"The Thestrals?" he asked unsurely.
He had been able to see the strange, skeletal horse-like creatures since the previous summer. Only those who had seen death could actually see their form. He shuddered at the memories of the things he had seen, done, before being allowed to join the Death Eaters. Breseis had had it easy.
"Thestrals?" she said, her voice quivering a shade less.
"Have you heard of them before?" he asked and she nodded.
"But I've never see one before," she told him, her eyebrows un-furrowing and her expression regaining its normal composure.
"But you can see them now?" he pressed.
"Yes." she told him simply.
"Breseis, you can only see them if you seen death," he said quietly.
"I know that," she snapped, releasing his arm from her death grip and swallowing loudly.
"Breseis," Draco asked, "who did you see-"
"Let's go, then, we don't want to be late," she was already striding towards the carriages, desperately avoiding looking at the strange horses. She only breathed again once she was safely in the carriage.
The group of First Years was waning at the front of the magnificent Great Hall. The woman with the pinched face and the tight bun in her hair, Professor McGonagall, was calling out those with surnames beginning in "W." Breseis felt a knot of fear in her stomach. The Sorting Hat was very quick sometimes, and she was more than sure of her destined house. She would wager that the hat would barely scrape her hair before announcing her as a Slytherin. It was desperately important that that did not happen.
She sat in one of a group of assembled chairs at the front of the hall. Newcomers who were not First Years had been told to sit here until the First Year Sorting was over. She sat beside a large amount of red haired, freckle faced people with rural accents she took to be relatives, as well as a fair few students with deep tans and blackest black hair: gypsies being forced to attend school under the new laws. Professor McGonagall was calling on "Young, Gertrude." Breseis suppressed a gulp and flicked her eyes over to the Slytherin table. It was comforting to see that Draco was looking over at her. He flashed her a small smile and she felt a small bit less fearful.
He had promised he would sort things out, should anything go wrong. Things wouldn't be unbearable for her mother. Draco would go to Durmstrang, Marie would remain clueless. She would try and make it easier for Draco, firstly by making that hat think about its decision. The last thing she would need if the Ministry changed hands would be a ton of character witnesses talking about the bloody Hogwarts Sorting Hat immediately calling her out as sly and devious.
She found herself clapping politely as the last First Year was sorted (into Hufflepuff.) Professor McGonagall stepped in front of the stool and the Sorting Hat, readying herself to announce to the school what was going to happen next. Breseis ran her gaze along the table behind McGonagall, where all the teachers were sat. She noticed Professor Slughorn, who winked at her, and Snape, his black eyes watching the Slytherin table carefully. She wanted to cackle at the very idea of having a Death Eater in charge of a school: it was too perfect. She noticed two other Death Eaters on the top table, the Carrows. They were almost as sadistic as Bellatrix. Breseis could picture Vlad's face puckering in distaste.
"As some of you may know," Professor McGonagall began, "new legislation has been brought into place which declares that all magical children of school age dwelling in Britain must attend Hogwarts. As a result there are new pupils now attending Hogwarts who are starting above First Year, joining us either from foreign schools or home education," she nodded over to the small group of new students sitting by the teacher's table, "These students will now be sorted into their Houses."
Breseis found herself gripping the seat a little too tight as she waited to hear her name. Two, three, four people were sorted, and her grip became tighter and tighter. I am not scared, she told herself, I am a Death Eater, and I am not scared.
"Lestrange, Breseis," Professor McGonagall called out, and Breseis immediately stood up, her mouth a hard line and her face concealing the terror inside. She was aware of people murmuring and she could just imagine that they were assuming she was the offspring of Bellatrix, the most famous Lestrange. Don't they realise she's too much of a psychopath to procreate? she thought savagely.
Paler than was quite healthy, she lifted the strangely heavy hat from the stool. In one smooth, simultaneous motion she sat down and placed the hat carefully on her head.
"STOP!" she shrieked internally, "Do not say one word."
There was silence.
"Very clever," the hat said after a moment, "I know where I'm putting you."
"Don't. You. Dare." she thought sharply, "Now, listen to me very carefully,"I have the measure of you, and I have the measure of what these houses mean to people, so before you go shouting your mouth off to the entire school I want you to sit there nice and quietly for a moment."
"Why should I do that?" the hat asked her.
"Because you have not met anyone quite like me in a long time, and if you tell everyone now, you shall not have the chance to have a good look around. Complicated minds are the most interesting," she replied.
"And what if I change my mind about what house you should be in?"
"You won't," she said simply, "I know myself better than you do."
A whole minute passed as the Hat sifted through her mind, her thoughts and ideas, her memories.
"You are quite right," the hat told her eventually, "I have not changed my mind. However, you do not know yourself as well as you would like to think, my dear, and you will doubtless learn that at a price."
Breseis rolled her eyes beneath the hat's brim.
"Slytherin!" It called out to the entire Great Hall, and Breseis lifted it from her head, saying a small thank you before it was completely off, and settled it back on the stool. She smiled at the small applause and moved to the Slytherin, where Draco was already making space for her.
Pansy did not look impressed.
After the feast, the Slytherins moved down to the Dungeons, where their dormitories lay. Breseis moved slowly and sleepily, gripping Draco's arm for support. By the time they reached the trap door at the entrance to the Common Room Draco had scooped her exhausted form up into his arms, much to Pansy's horror, and he carried her across the common room and into the dormitory she was to share with Pansy and the other seventh year girls. He placed her on the bed beside her trunk, where one of her skimpy night slips already lay waiting for her. He pulled the curtains around her, though not before secretly brushing his lips across her forehead.
"Goodnight," he whispered through the curtains.
"Night night," Breseis replied sleepily, pulling her jumper over her head.
Draco waved a brief goodnight to Pansy before making his way to his own dorm. Pansy went to the doorway and watched him go, a fierce anger growing in the pit of her stomach.
