It was Saturday when Octavia received Draco's letter. Rather than read it right when Octavius flew it to her over breakfast, she tucked it away back in her chest in by her bed.

Today, she had more important things to do.
Octavia met Carson in the library. He was talking to Balinda who (as Ravenclaw style mandates) had her face in a book (on a school subject she wasn't taking).

"Come on, Balinda," Carson said.
"I- I don't know I can…."
Octavia found reading the girl easier than most of her school books. Balinda was torn between her company and her position to the school.
"As Head Girl you obviously have the schools trust… not to mention with all your school classes no one would be suspicious…" Carson trailed off.
Octavia sat next to Balinda and put an arm around her shoulder.
"Balinda, we need this. We need you," Octavia said.
A small smile appeared on Balinda's face. She was needed, and she knew it.
"A-alright. I'll see what I can do. But it can't be all of you," she warned.
"That's fine. Jean and myself then."
"Alright."
Octavia patted Balinda on the arm before leaving her and Carson in the library.

Her next stop was to finally read the letter from her father.
Through the cold stone hallways, into the dark common room under the lake, there was a certain feeling of power that came to Octavia when she was in the Slytherin common room. Something about being in a house of such power, prestige, and fear. Something only a select few could manage.
Octavia's bed was between Jean and Marissa who were nowhere in sight. Being alone in that room, Octavia sat on her bed and opened the letter with a fancy letter 'M' stamped over the envelope.

Octavia,
I have questions for you about your mother. Please tell me about her and how she raised you and Milly. It's important.

Draco.

Octavia sneered at the letter. She didn't like people brining up her mother. Octavia put the letter back in her trunk. Not only did she not want to answer the letter, but she needed to get changed and be someplace.

It was chilly out. Not too cold, but defiantly October.

Octavia was dressed in her Quiddich practice clothes which did keep her a bit warmer than her usual robes. Octavia was smart.
Astoria didn't like Quiddich. She rambled about it; how the players were no good. But it was a favorite activity of Octavia. Rather than have her mother take the broom that she saved up and bought, Octavia stowed her broom at school for the summer.

True, she was a bit out of practice, but she was sure there wouldn't be any real talent that could beat her (partially because she was a beater herself).

Octavia got to the field fashionable late.
One thing that Octavia could count on was good ol' Slytherin favoritism.
The team paid little attention to players who wanted to take positions already secured by a high performing player from the year before (and such if a person trying out was accepted, then the standards for next year where only much higher). They only paid mind to the people trying out to positions they were guaranteeing to replace players in.

A harsh system, but a very favorable for Octavia who didn't have the time or resources to practice over summer.
And yet, she still had to be there to 'try out' so none of the turned away called foul pickings.

There were only two new people trying out to be a beater.
The Slytherin captain was busy with the others, so Octavia took over trying them out. They were alright, but not enough to be chosen over her. Maybe when she graduated they would have a shot (assuming no one better tried).

It was a while before all the try outs were completed. When they finally did end, the Slytherin captain pulled everyone in a group and listed off the players.
Of course, Octavia made the team.
A smug look of satisfaction came across her face. As she expected, no one was replaced. While fishy looking to other houses, it wasn't illegal in game.

It was nearing lunch when Octavia went to her dorm and changed back into her normal school wear and finally found the nerve to answer her father's letter.

Father,

She raised us fine. Or rather I raised us fine. It's done. No more reason to dwell on it.

Oh; and I made the Quiddich team. I'm a beater.

O.