Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Is it true, Miss Parkinson, that late last year, you lured a classmate to a secluded place and began to assault her?"
"It was only a prank," Parkinson protested, side-eyeing her fellow Slytherins. "A prank gone too far."
"Is that so?" the same man spoke; the students were surrounded by rows of witches and wizards in plum-colored robes. The room was dark and ominous, presumably to strike fear into the hearts of those accused of crime—or perhaps, Adelinda thought, it made interrogations easier. Did the Wizengamot hold interrogations? "I have the report from Madam Pomfrey here—it says that there were 'severe bruises to Miss Amoretto's torso and arms,' and that she arrived to the hospital wing unconscious and barely able to breath. Would you like to explain this prank to me?"
Tap tap tap tap tap.
Draco's hand on her leg made Adelinda realize how loud her heels were every time she clicked them against the cement floor. She was incredibly anxious and antsy and she needed an outlet for it, but all she could do was sit there and do her best not to fidget. It wasn't going well so far and it didn't help that she felt as though every member of the Wizengamot was staring down at her. She couldn't see their faces clearly and their looming figures reminded her of her near-death experience in the London streets.
Her gaze shifted from the intimidating figures to where Pansy sat. All four students were seated in the middle of the room facing the Chief Warlock; Draco was to her left and Theodore to her right, and Pansy was several feet away. The steel chair that Pansy sat in had shackles attached to the arms and legs, though they weren't in use. The woman looked angry and the way she scrunched her lips and furrowed her brow made Adelinda think of a small child throwing a tantrum. The description was fitting.
"I never meant to hurt her," Parkinson said coolly. "I don't even understand why this is relevant to the case at hand."
"Well, Miss Parkinson, it makes a statement about your character," the wizard said sternly. "Your hesitance to provide an explanation for the assault does, as well." Pansy seemed to realize that the more she spoke, the deeper her grave became, and she fell silent. "I do not believe it to have been a prank, but the Wizengamot will speak on it later during the decision-making. Let us move on to the case at hand, as you said."
Adelinda was amazed by the cockiness on Pansy's face—she couldn't truly think that she would get out of this with a slap on the wrist. "Mister Malfoy, explain to us how this all began."
"Well." Draco straightened beside her, raising his chin to meet the warlock's eyes. All four students were dressed in their finest dress robes, and he looked breathtakingly handsome in his black robes, his hair slicked back and his posture confident. She couldn't help but find his arrogance attractive when it wasn't directed towards her. "Pansy and I were—well, we were together years ago. Our parents, but hers especially, pushed for marriage between us. I did not want it and ended it; my mother accepted this but hers did not. Regardless, I don't believe that her feelings for me ever waned, but it wasn't a problem until Adelinda came into my life. I could ignore it before that."
"Why did it become a problem then?"
"She was jealous. She wouldn't leave me alone, and she wouldn't leave Adelinda alone—which is quite obvious. It didn't help that Adelinda wasn't a 'proper' Slytherin in her eyes." She knew what he was doing; he was using the truth to put the Wizengamot on his side and baiting Pansy.
"Jealous? Of her—" Pansy cut herself off before the Chief Warlock could say a thing, looking flustered and angry.
"What do you mean by 'proper' Slytherin?"
"A proper Slytherin would be pureblooded and coldhearted; Adelinda is neither. She would have associated only with Slytherin students, but her best friends are in Gryffindor—" Draco paused. "—and a proper Slytherin girl would know not to speak up to a popular, pureblooded student, but Adelinda didn't sit by quietly while Pansy bullied her."
"You speak of this 'proper Slytherin' and pure blood as though you were not once involved in the war," the warlock pointed out, and Draco looked down. She was sure that, to the witches and wizards of the Wizengamot, he looked ashamed of himself, and while she knew of the guilt he felt for his part in the war, she knew that this was a show. He wanted to make them empathize with him, or at the very least, feel a touch of sympathy.
"Yes, sir, I was," he said calmly, looking up. "I have done my best at atoning for my crimes and prejudice, as you all most likely know, and I continue to make reparations on behalf of the imprisoned or killed Death Eaters who will not."
"And you believe these Death Eaters are rightly imprisoned, do you not?"
"I do."
"Even your father?"
Adelinda felt him tense and relax all in a matter of seconds. "Yes. He committed serious crimes against Muggles and the magical community alike, and no one is above the law." He truly did believe that, this she knew to be true.
"We are deviating—tell me about when you suspect you were first put under the effects of Amortentia."
"I'm not sure, exactly," Draco said honestly. "Adelinda and I had fought, but were still together; one day I was contemplating apologizing for being a git, and the next day, I was infatuated with Parkinson. I didn't know why, but I didn't question it; I wasn't capable of logical thoughts."
"And this was how long ago?"
"Roughly two months ago," the Slytherin answered.
"To keep you under the influence of the potion, she would have been giving it to you every few days." Adelinda heard the scribbling of quills as notes were taken. "While in the hold of the love potion, did you do anything you now regret?"
Draco dropped his gaze in genuine embarrassment for the first time during the trial. He didn't want to think of what he had done to Pansy and what she had done to him. It made him feel filthy, disgusting. Violated. He knew Adelinda didn't want to think of it either. "Yes. If it is all right with you, I would rather not go into detail—" he opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and opened it again. "—just know that any and every single thing that I did for Pansy was done against my will, and everything that she did for me was unwanted. I simply could not fight it at the time."
Adelinda's foot began to tap again, her eyes fixed on her shoes-black leather heels, barely visible under her robes. She wondered what her parents were doing. What they would say if they were there. All the parents had been forced to stay outside of the room because all of the students were of age. They needed no familial representation.
"Understood," the Chief Warlock said. His eyes turned on Theodore. "Now how do you fall into this, young man?"
"I choked in the common room and was given tea meant for Malfoy to soothe my throat." His answer was much more to-the-point than Draco's had been. Theodore seemed bored, like he just wanted to get the trial over with and go back to school. "When I began to profess my undying love for Adelinda, she figured it out and went to Madam Pomfrey with her suspicions. As I'm sure you know, a quick charm showed that both Malfoy and I had love potions in our blood."
"How did you figure it out, Miss Amoretto?" the elderly wizard turned his eyes on her.
"I—well, I had had my suspicions—" she said. Though she spoke softly, her voice echoed throughout the quiet room. She wasn't as comfortable speaking before fifty authoritative figures as Draco and Theodore were. Of course, they had been through it before. "—after awhile, I realized how strange it had been for Draco to run to Pansy. I never doubted that he cared about me, and it made no sense for him to betray me with the women who had attacked me and whom he could not stand. Especially after such a miniscule argument." They were lies, but they were lies that would save Narcissa from becoming involved in the trial—Draco, Adelinda, and Mrs. Malfoy had come to the agreement that it would be better for the court not to know that it was she who had prompted Adelinda to try and figure out the truth behind the forged relationship. The trial would run more smoothly and be over with more quickly if they didn't know.
The room was completely silent for a moment. "Miss Parkinson, do you have any response to these accusations?" he asked. "Please, keep in mind the advice your parents likely gave you, as well as the testimonies we have from Madam Pomfrey and Headmaster McGonagall. I advise you to speak the truth and nothing less."
She seemed to struggle with her words for a moment and Adelinda wondered what nonsensical lie would leave her lips. "I have no response," she finally said, her voice strained and angry. "Though I would like to apology for any pain I have caused. I will do my best to make amends."
Adelinda did not believe it for a moment, and if the members of the Wizengamot had any sense, they wouldn't either; she wondered if it would be like Muggle court, where if a person plead guilty and pretended to feel even a shred of remorse, their sentencing would be less harsh. "Apology noted. Miss Parkinson, remain seated. You three—" he turned his gaze on them. There was a dull chatter in the seats above them as members began to discuss. "—you may leave the room the way you came. Thank you."
Both men nodded at the warlock before standing. As Adelinda rose to her feet, Draco offered his arm, and she wondered if it was her imagination or if she could truly feel Theodore tensing beside her. She took it, albeit hesitantly, and the three walked from the room. She resisted the urge to look back at Pansy, who had remained silent and brooding.
For the first time, Adelinda realized that Theodore had no one waiting for him outside of those large doors. Draco had his mother and Adelinda had her parents—not that their presence was of much comfort to her. She felt a stab of loneliness on his behalf. If he hadn't been such a git to her about Draco, she would have gone over to speak to him; but he had been, and she was quite sure that he knew of her renewed relationship.
"What happens now?" Adelinda asked, facing Mrs. Malfoy. The woman was dressed as splendidly as ever, in her long embroidered dress robes, her hair beautifully put up. She didn't want to admit it but her own mother looked incredible, as well; Adelinda had never seen her in formal robes, having lived in the Muggle world with them her entire life—they were a deep maroon with golden swirls decorating the bottom. Her dark hair fell in beautiful waves against her shoulders. If she and her daughter had been on different terms, they would have been gushing over one another's appearance.
"The members will speak amongst themselves will Pansy awaits her sentencing," Narcissa explained, reaching up to rest a hand momentarily on her son's cheek. He would never show it but she knew that being before the Wizengamot was trying for him to begin with; it would be worse when he was there for offenses committed against him, not by he or his peers. "Depending on the opinions of each individual member, it could take half an hour or two hours; we wait here." A quick glance around the room showed several other people sitting, anxiously awaiting the trials of their loved ones. They wouldn't be allowed in but they would be the first to know the outcome. They paid the large group no mind at all, too consumed with worry.
"So we just…sit here." Adelinda sighed and took a seat; she still had not said a word to her parents, but then, they hadn't really tried to talk to her since her fit the day before. She wasn't sure if she wanted an apology from them or if she welcomed their silence; she didn't know what she wanted at all, actually. She felt entitled to an apology. They had lied to her since the day they adopted her. They had, inadvertently, caused her a lot of pain. The logical part of her mind told her that they had likely been trying to protect her or perhaps they hadn't known how to explain it to her. The emotional part of her mind told her that was a load of rubbish and nothing excused what they had done.
She could recognize that she had been in the wrong, as well, but as she had told Draco, "I'll be damned if I apologize first." She knew she should have told them of the dreams and she knew she never should have taken or even thought of taking Dreamless Sleep; it was dangerous and addictive. She should have told them about what was going on with Draco and she should have told them about what had happened in Hogsmeade. Perhaps the things that were happening had to do with her mother, the dark witch, and maybe if she had told them, they would have stopped lying to her.
Or maybe they would have continued to lie and everything would have gone the way it had regardless. Who knew. In any case, she wasn't going to apologize first or end her silent treatment, even if she was—in Draco's words—acting like a spoiled brat.
When Draco sat beside her and put an arm around her shoulder, she couldn't help but glance over to Theodore; he sat across from them, his legs cross and arms folded over his chest. He was just like Draco in the sense that he could appear completely emotionless, bored, even during the most stressful of times.
"What, it isn't over yet?" she heard a voice that sounded vaguely familiar and when she turned her head she saw the elder Parkinsons addressing Mrs. Malfoy.
"No," was the woman's brisk reply. Draco's head turned as well and they watched the interaction openly; the three Slytherins had no qualms about showing their distaste for the couple.
"Why not?" Mrs. Parkinson said, her tone as cool as Narcissa's eyes.
"These things take time. You of all people should know that," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.
"I don't believe I understand where this sudden change of heart is coming from," Mrs. Parkinson said, her voice almost sounding hurt. "You can't possibly believe these accusations against my daughter."
"I can when they are coming from my son," Mrs. Malfoy answered easily. Adelinda felt Draco's body shift as he rested his hand against the pocket that held his wand.
"Well, perhaps Draco is confused," she suggested, glancing over to the student with pity in her eyes. "It's been a rough few years for our children and I'm sure that it's hard for them to remember where their loyalties lie and who they should trust."
"No, I highly doubt that—and I do not appreciate you suggesting that Draco does not know where his loyalties lie," she said, her tone venomous. "I believe he knows more about that now than he ever did before. Perhaps it is your daughter that is confused—my son did, after all, lose interest in her years ago. She couldn't seem to let go."
Mrs. Parkinson's face turned red. "Your son is a traitor, dating a—" she smiled sweetly, glancing to Adelinda. "—younger girl, someone who rides on the Gryffindor coattails just as everyone else has done after the war."
As quickly as the woman's nasty words left her lips, Narcissa's wand was out and pressed to her navel. Adelinda's mother made a little noise of shocked and made to step forward; her husband put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. Mrs. Malfoy wouldn't cause a scene or do the woman any real harm unless she was threatened. "Narcissa," Mrs. Amoretto said in a hushed voice, trying not to draw attention to them.
"We may be in the Ministry of Magic," Narcissa said, her voice soft, poisonous. "But everyone here will testify that what you just said was hidden bigotry, a verbal attack on my son's beloved, and do you think the Wizengamot will punish me for hexing the magic out of you when they learn that?"
Mrs. Parkinson narrowed her eyes and stepped back. "Point taken," she snapped. "Just know that if Pansy gets Azkaban, I will hold you and your child responsible."
"You know firsthand how I respond to threats, Parkinson," Narcissa said with a cool smile, sliding her wand back into her robes. "I wouldn't do that again if I were you."
The witch scowled at her and grabbed her husbands arm. Her eyes rested on Adelinda. "You know, dear," she said, and smiled at the young witch's mother. "You look like someone I used to know before the war." She took her husbands arm and dragged them over to the seats directly by the doors. Draco stood and began to speak to his mother quietly, angry but collected. Mrs. Amoretto took a seat next to her daughter and rubbed her tense shoulders, not seeming to noticed the way she stiffened even more.
It felt like hours passed before a member of the Wizengamot finally came out to speak to them; the elderly man spoke to the Parkinson family first and they became visibly agitated. Before he had finished speaking they hurried past him and into the room; he seemed unbothered by this and simply walked over to Draco. "I would like to let you all know that your classmate has been sentenced to the minimum of three months in Azkaban, and—"
"Why three months?" Adelinda's mother said, her voice heated and Italian accent particularly thick. "She should have gotten more than that."
"—well, Mrs. Amoretto, if you would let me finish…" he waited for her to settle down. His tone was chastising but not unpleasant. "…this is the first time Pansy Parkinson has been charged with a crime, and when she is released, she will have to go through extensive counseling. She will also be losing her wand and will be forbidden from performing magic. If she does not abide by the rules we will set for her upon release, she will be sent back for an undetermined amount of time."
Adelinda's parents looked angry about this, but Narcissa seemed to have expected this. "Thank you for letting us know. Are we free to go?"
"Yes, you may go," he said, nodding at them before turning and reentering the room.
"Well," Narcissa said, gesturing for everyone to stand. "Let's get back to the hotel and have something to eat now that this is done with. The children must be back in school tomorrow, they all have exams coming up."
"How are you not upset by this—this minimal punishment?" her mother asked, shocked. She was angry on her daughter's behalf; not only had Pansy actually hurt Adelinda physically before, but now she had hurt her badly in an emotional way, as well. She didn't doubt that while Adelinda and Draco had reconciled, their relationship would be shaky, at best. At least at the start of it.
"I expected it," she said simply. "Forgive me for saying this, but Pansy is from a Noble family full of wealthy Purebloods. The Parkinsons have connections, just as I would in a situation like this. I could have used those connections but I wanted to do this honestly, for my son's sake."
"It isn't right," Adelinda's mother said quietly. "Andiamo, let us go."
Adelinda went to Draco's side and together they made their way to the fireplaces in the lobby of the Ministry, where they charmed their formal robes to look like Muggle clothing. She wasn't sure how she felt about Pansy's sentencing. She was glad that she wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts with them, but her parents threat to Narcissa left an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she thought it unlikely that Pansy would obey the no-magic rule. The woman couldn't resist doing things she was forbidden to do.
Once the group returned to the hotel, they parted ways; Adelinda's parents stated that they would like to spend time with their daughter and upon hearing this, Draco gave her a sympathetic look and a kiss on the cheek before taking his leave. She and her parents walked around the hotel in silence for awhile until stopping at a meeting room. She had a feeling they weren't supposed to be in that area of the hotel but a quick repellant charm cast by her father took care of that.
"We want to speak to you, Adelinda," he began, gesturing for her to take a seat. They sat across from her. She felt a bit nervous, like she was being interrogated—this was all new to her. Bickering with her parents, speaking back to them, accusing them of things; prior to the past few days she had never so much as raised her voice at them.
"About what?" she said, folding her arms defensively over her chest and looking at them. If being in Slytherin had taught her anything, it was how to keep her expression carefully trained to show no emotion.
"We understand your anger." She noticed that her mother was unusually quiet. It didn't give her a good feeling. "We truly do. We shouldn't have lied to you, you're right, and while telling you the truth may have changed things for you, it may also have made things worse. We can't really explain—"
"That's rubbish," she interrupted, much to her father's surprise. "You owe me an explanation. I want to know the truth, the full truth. Tutto questo."
"Adelinda, you don't want to know the truth, prometto—this isn't what we wanted to focus on. We are sorry we lied to you, my love. We are. But you have pushed us out of your life and we're worried about you," her mother was finally speaking and her voice was pained. Adelinda felt guilty as she heard the emotion in her mother's words. "Dreamless sleep, passing out at Hogsmeade, and the way you have spoken to us since we got here—"
"Because you lied to me," Adelinda said in a monotone, and her mother kept talking, not acknowledging this interruption.
"—this is not like you. What happened the other day, and what we now hear happened at Hogsmeade…we don't know what is going on but you need to be at home. We need to figure it out and we need to make sure you don't use that potion anymore—"
"What, do you think I'm addicted?" Adelinda said sharply, straightening in her seat. "The school year is almost over and I like it at Hogwarts. I'm not going to use the potion anymore. Draco wouldn't let me if I tried. I'm just as safe at Hogwarts as I would be at home—if not safer…nothing has ever happened to me inside the school."
"It isn't about that...you are changing, Adelinda," her father said quietly, his eyes boring holes into her.
"Well, what else did you think would happen when I finally got to interact with people my own age?" Adelinda asked, her voice angry. "Do you think you can shelter me forever?"
"We weren't sheltering you, we were protecting you!" her mother answered quickly, her voice rising. "I will not take this disrespect from you!"
"Then tell me the truth!" Adelinda proclaimed, slapping her hand against the table. "Tell me about my birth mother. Tell me why you adopted me. Tell me why I wasn't allowed to go Hogwarts, why we moved from England to Italy before anyone even knew that Voldemort was back."
Her mother stared at her and her father rubbed his eyes in frustration. "Tell us what you know."
Adelinda turned scrutinizing eyes on him for a moment before finally answering in hopes that they would answer her questions. "I know that you knew I was magical." She said slowly, bitterly. "I know that my birth mother was a dark witch and I know that she was probably a Death Eater. I know people were after her—I want to know who. I want to know why. I want to know why you kept me out of wizarding school, why you exposed everyone around me to—to uncontrolled magic."
"Your birth mother was—well, we don't know her name, but she was half-blooded. She was running from Voldemort. What we were told is that when she became pregnant, she realized she didn't want to be a Death Eater anymore; she went to Albus Dumbledore for help. He sheltered her until she gave birth and then he went on the search for a suitable home." Her father spoke while her mother sat next to him, fidgeting and chewing at her lip in the same way as Adelinda.
"So why did he choose you?"
"I don't know, Adelinda. Perhaps because we have always been so uninvolved in the magical community and were the least likely to become activists—we're also one of the few people who believed at this time that Voldemort was, indeed, back." He clasped his hands together and looked down for a moment. "Dumbledore didn't have many families to choose from. He wanted a couple with no other children so that the parents could be totally focused on protecting you, hiding you."
"Why did I need to be hidden?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. She had this irking feeling that they weren't telling her something still.
"Because your birth mother was a dark witch running from Voldemort, and he knew she was pregnant, and—I don't know. Children would be good for him; children are impressionable. They will do as they're told and believe as they're taught. I don't know, Adelinda."
"Are you sure you don't know?" she asked, folding her arms tightly over her chest and looking her father boldly in this face. He gave a frustrated huff and didn't answer. She didn't push it. "So you knew I was magical. Why did you have me in Muggle school? Why did you have me believe I was Muggle-born my entire life?" At this her anger broke to reveal insecurity, pain; for all her life she had believe herself to have a completely different identity.
"You were too young to know the truth, we couldn't—you cannot trust small children with secrets as large as that. We couldn't put you in Wizarding school because Voldemort would be looking for a magical child. He wouldn't be looking for a Muggle, and—if he ever got your hands on you, we—we needed you to believe you were a Muggle or at the very least, Muggle-born. He would have no interest in you. He would never think that you were the child he was looking for—"
"But when my magic began to manifest, when things began to happen, you—you didn't even try to train me in magic. You waited until I killed someone." Her voice was rough and she couldn't look at them anymore. "You lied to me about who I was. You lied to me about wanting a child; you said you adopted me because—because you wanted me. You lied to me every time I asked if you knew anything of my parents. I can forgive that—but non posso—I can't forgive you letting things get so out of control that I hurt someone." Her voice was slowly getting louder and louder. "I can't forgive you and I will never forgive myself for it, mai piu. I always thought it was my fault. You knew what could happen when a child was not taught to control their magic!"
"You do not think we feel guilty, Adelinda?" her mother finally said sharply, slamming her hand against the table. "Because of our negligence to teach you about magic, a boy lost his life and others were forever scarred, forever traumatized, and it is in no way your fault, and in every way ours. I think about that every day. Every time I write you a letter, I think of how that boy's mother will never see him again, never speak to him, never hug him—" she seemed to shake herself. "You have every right to be angry with us, Adelinda. But do not let that anger turn to hate." Her mother stood and hurried out of the room. Adelinda knew that meant she was crying and she wanted to do the same but she bit down against the knot in her throat and blinked back the heat of tears.
Her father stood a moment later, looking solemnly at his daughter. "Don't think for a second that we didn't want you." With that last statement, he left the room, and she sat there with tears filling her eyes, torn between guilt and rage.
Two days later, she sat in the Room of Requirements with Ginny and Hermione, trying to explain to them why she was back with Draco Malfoy, the 'scum of the earth.'
Her departure from London with Draco and Theodore had been swift and rather unemotional. She had kissed her mother and father goodbye after not speaking to them for a day, and that was that; she was of age and they couldn't force her to return home with them. She wasn't even sure she even wanted to go home for the summer—she had half a mind to go stay with Ginny. She knew she was welcome, and though the rift between her and her parents was reason enough to go, it had hit her that nearly all of her friends were finishing their final year of schooling.
"Forget about Malfoy, I want to know about the trial!" Hermione chastised Ginny over their tea, smacking her arm with a book. Ginny glared at her.
"It was—oddly simply," Adelinda began, fiddling with her spoon. "We told our side of the story and then we had to leave the room…Pansy's parents were there and Mrs. Parkinson said some, ah, rude things…"
"Let me guess," Ginny began, rolling her eyes. "If Pansy was sentenced to Azkaban she'd have your head, Draco should have been with Pansy the whole time, et cetera…"
"Pretty much," Adelinda said. "Narcissa pulled her wand on her because she threatened her, and then that was the end of that. It was ridiculous."
"Narcissa?" Ginny raised her eyebrows. "You're on a first-name basis?"
"Ah—not really—hush!" she huffed at the girl, frowning. "I know—I know you don't approve, and with good reason, I suppose. But Draco was being force-fed love potions this whole time—maybe everyone is right, maybe one day he will hurt me and it will be of his own accord, but I don't think he will. I felt like something was missing the entire time that he was with Pansy. I couldn't…I can't not try again." She gave them a sheepish look and added, "Also, Mrs. Malfoy isn't all that bad." She had calmed her after the incident in London and spoken to her like a person and kept her parents at bay for as long as she could.
Hermione and Ginny looked at each other for a moment and Adelinda sat there fiddling, waiting for their response.
"All I'm going to say is that if he ever does hurt you of his own accord, I will hurt him, and I will get every Weasley, man and woman alike, to help me," Ginny said sternly before smiling. "C'mere, you!" She grabbed Adelinda and hugged her tight. "I'm just glad Parkinson is gone and we don't have to worry about you anymore."
Adelinda smiled, but all she could think about was the fiasco in the London streets. She hadn't told them and she didn't think she was going to—perhaps she would once there was an explanation for it. "Anch'io. Me, too," she agreed, wrapping her arms around her friend for a moment. "My parents and I aren't speaking, though…"
Hermione seemed especially concerned about this and demanded to know what had happened; the younger witch spilled everything and made them promise to tell no one, not even their boyfriends or family. She left out what had happened in elementary school—only Draco and Mrs. Malfoy were to know about that. "It explains why you were sorted into Slytherin," Hermione pointed out, deep in thought. "The Sorting Hat has a way of knowing these things. It almost put Harry in Slytherin, you know."
"Really?" Adelinda said, surprised. "Why?"
"His connection to Voldemort, I suppose," Ginny answered. "That, and he can be quite cunning when he needs to be. He wasn't deemed 'The Chosen One' for nothing."
The witches laughed and just like that, their conversation become lighter, easier; they spent the rest of their evening in the Room of Requirements before sneaking back to their respective common rooms. Adelinda was walking briskly through the dungeons, peeking around every corner for the Prefect, when she felt a hand on her shoulder pushing her against the wall. In a second her wand was out and she had shoved her assailant far enough back to use it; the only thing that saved the Head Boy from a nasty hex was his quick reflexes. He shoved her hand up and the spell hit a lantern instead of him. Sparks flew this way and that as the spell ricocheted for a few seconds before finally disappearing.
"Well, at least I know you can protect yourself," Draco said, an amused smirk on his lips. She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.
"You know better than to scare me like that," she scolded, leaning up to kiss him after tucking her wand back into her robes. "I'm sorry I tried to hex the life out of you."
"I'm sorry I snuck up on you," he said. She smacked his arm, hearing the laughter in his voice.
"No you're not," she told him. They had yet to go to any classes; McGonagall had given them a day to settle back in and finish up their assignments—if they were not handed in to their professors the next day, they would get no credit for them.
"Did you have a nice time with Granger and Weasley?" he asked her, putting his arm around her shoulders as they walked to the common room entrance. She wondered when his voice had become so much less hostile when speaking of her Gryffindor friends; it had been a long, long time since it had been anything but pleasant when referring to them, but she had never noticed the transition. It had taken some time apart to fully recognize the changes that had occurred in him over the school year.
"Si," she answered with a smile.
"Did you tell them that we are together again?" he asked, glancing down at her to read her face. She nodded.
"Mm-hm," she put an arm around his waist. "They say that they knew it would happen, and that if you ever hurt me, the Weasley family will have your head. But they don't disapprove entirely."
"Well, that's certainly a step up from their previous hatred of me," he said with a laugh, unbothered. "Merlin, if you could have seen the looks those two would give me in the corridors…and I didn't even know why." He shook his head. She wondered at his sudden indifference towards what had happened—she knew there had to be some type of inner conflict, but she was hesitant to ask.
"Just treat me like a queen and they'll come around," she teased, giving him a squeeze. When they entered the common room, many eyes turned towards them—it hadn't taken long for the entire Slytherin house and eventually the school to find out what Pansy had done, and when that gossip began the talk of their relationship and what would come of it began, too. She put on a brave face, but there was a small part that worried what people would think of it.
"You underestimate the stubbornness of your friends," he told her. "Come on, let's sit for awhile."
She looked at him with weary eyes. "Are you sure?"
Before Draco could answer, Penelope had pounced on her. She stumbled backwards and had to wrap her arms around the girl to keep them both from falling. They tried and failed miserably to stifle their giggles. "Bloody hell!" Adelinda exclaimed. "Did you miss me?"
"Duh," Penelope said with an impatient sigh, finally pulling back. Draco was watching them with an amused smirk. "And you have to tell me how it went. You promised."
Adelinda gave Draco, whose eyebrows were raised, a sheepish look. "Later," she murmured, nudging the girl. Penelope's eyes went back and forth between the two.
"Ahhhh." Her eyes lit up with mischief. "That didn't take long. You've got beans to spill, missy. But we'll talk tomorrow."
Adelinda's cheeks had flushed pink. "Si, fine," she huffed. "During potions."
When Penelope practically skipped away, she took a seat next to Draco, who had sat down on an unoccupied sofa away from the fire. He put an arm around her and she nestled into his side. "Details, hmm?"
She gave a little shrug, smiling sweetly up at him. "You can't expect me not to give her details. She has as much against Pansy as anyone here."
"I know." He said, thinking for a moment. "All I ask is that you do not include myself or details of what happened while I was—you know."
She looked at him, shocked. "Draco, I wouldn't," Adelinda said firmly. "And, onestamente, I'm a little hurt that you think I would tell anyone those things."
"It's not about you," Draco said, shaking his head. "I know you wouldn't, but I feel like I have to say it. Humor me."
She looked at him for a moment. He was right, it wasn't about her. As different as it had been for each of them, they had both been hurt and humiliated. "Okay. I will keep those details to myself."
"Thank you."
They spent the better part of their evening in the common room, helping each other with their make-up assignments; it didn't feel like long before the common room had emptied and they were alone in the chilly underground. "We actually have to wake up on time tomorrow," he murmured. They sat before the fire with their books and parchment scattered in front of them; Adelinda was laying down, her head on his thigh and his robes covering her.
"I know." Her eyes were half-open; the movement of the flame was hypnotic.
"You need to get some sleep," he said, looking down at her. She was exhausted. He himself hadn't been sleeping much lately, but his exhaustion came in short waves.
"I know," she repeated, her eyes closing for a minute and then opening; they kept doing this until finally, they closed and remained that way. Her breathing slowed and she fidgeted for awhile before finally settling, with her face buried against his stomach and one of her arms thrown onto his lap. He didn't know how she could possibly be comfortable but he didn't want to move her yet.
It felt too good to be true, and he wondered if it was. When he had finally escaped the effects of Pansy's potion, his first thought had been of Adelinda and their failed relationship. He knew what she believed—that he had betrayed her with another woman, and her enemy, at that. He had been consumed by regret and by guilt but mostly by fear that she wouldn't be able to forgive him.
Then, when she finally began to speak to him, his fear changed; even if she could forgive him, could she touch him again knowing that Pansy had touched him, too? He and Pansy had been together long before Adelinda, of course, but it was different this time. It had happened when it was supposed to be the younger witch in his arms, in his bed. He wondered if she would sleep in his bed again. He wondered if their honeymoon phase would end and reveal the cracks that had to be there; he wasn't sure they would be able to fill them.. He found himself concerned with Adelinda's opinion of him when he had never before cared much for the opinion of anyone. Draco didn't want her to think poorly of him or to associate her feelings for him with negativity.
Looking down at her and observing the way her skin glowed in the moonlight, the sweet way her small hands gripped his shirt like a security blanket, Draco made a promise to himself and to her: unless she wanted it to end, nothing would come between them again. He cared for her too much—and his mother even seemed to approve. That was a hard task to accomplish and she had done it without trying. He couldn't let her go now.
He slid his arms beneath hers and pulled her up onto his lap gently. "Adelinda, you've got to go to bed," he said softly to her, pressing kisses to her cheeks and forehead. "C'mon, girl."
She gave a little whine. "No." Her arms slid around his neck. "Non voglio…"
"We have classes in the morning, you silly girl." He gave her a gently shake. "I'll carry you if I have to."
She nodded before nuzzling her face into his neck. "Si, that's fine." Her voice was sleepy and her eyes were still closed, but she was half-awake now.
"Little minx." She gave a little noise of protest and he smirked. One-handed and trying not to jostle her, he gathered their things and shoved them into her bag, slinging it over his shoulder before wrapping both arms around her and standing carefully.
She held on tightly when she felt him stand, beginning to wake with every step he took, her heart suddenly pounding. It would be the first night she was sleeping alone, and without the Dreamless Sleep potion…
"Give me your key, love," he whispered, trying to be discreet; hopefully none of the girls in neighboring rooms would decided it was time to use the loo or sneak into their boyfriend's rooms.
Adelinda forced her eyes open and slid her key from around her neck with the arm that wasn't around Draco's. He unlocked it and pushed the door open with his foot. "Light, per favore," she murmured, and after closing the door and laying her on the bed, he pulled his wand from his robe and lit the lamp on her desk.
She was sitting up, yawning and rubbing at her eyes. Her room was the tidiest it had been all school year; her bed was made and her desk was organized and all of her clothing was put away neatly, save for what was in her trunk. Draco was impressed and was about to say so when he noticed the look on her face. She never had been good at hiding her feelings, but no matter how skilled in the art of concealment she became, he could always tell when she wasn't feeling right. "What's wrong?" he asked, pulling the blankets back for her. She had stood up and was sliding out of his robe and her clothes, pulling a nightgown from her trunk.
"I don't want to sleep alone," Adelinda said quietly, handing his robe to him. He set it aside.
"Why not?" he questioned, locking her door; it didn't take much for him to decide to stay there with her. "You seem nervous."
She gave a little shrug, watching him as he slid his belt off. It was the first time he had been to her room in the night since they had gotten back together but he seemed to feel as at-home as he had before. "It's just…I don't…" she paused. "The Dreamless Sleep…"
His eyes flit to her face. He was unbuttoning his shirt, laying his clothes over the chair. "I thought you weren't addicted."
"I'm not!" she said quickly, defensively. "But I got used to not worrying about bad dreams, and I got used to falling asleep with a magical aid…and the past few nights, I've had you at my side, and that in itself is enough to keep me feeling sane, but…"
"But you're afraid that if you're alone, you'll have a nightmare, and if you do have bad dreams there will be no one there when you wake up." She nodded, a bit embarrassed. She was seventeen years old and plagued by ridiculous nightmares. "Adelinda, it's fine. Let's get to bed."
Thinking about the Dreamless Sleep situation made him angry. He was sure her parents were composing their letter to McGonagall about Slughorn at that very moment, ready to get him kicked out of the school if they hadn't already, and he couldn't say he didn't want the same. It wasn't the first time he had given forbidden potions or spells or information to students, and if anything bad had happened to her as a result, it wouldn't have been the first time Slughorn's 'help' had gotten a student into serious trouble. He had never liked that man, not since he had failed to invite him into the slug club (no matter how justified his reason for not doing so had been).
"You must think I'm an idiot for using that potion," she whispered once they were in bed. She had used her wand to dim the light but not put it out completely.
"You were desperate," he said after a long moment. "You had a lot on your plate, and nightmares, too? I think if you hadn't taken the potion, you likely would have wasted away to nothing by now—I know how you get when you're stressed out, Adelinda, don't give me that look. You forget to eat for days, you don't sleep—I'm positively furious that Slughorn allowed you to use that potion, but perhaps it was okay for that short-term use…" he gave her a look. "…as long as you promise me that you'll never touch it again."
"I won't," she said immediately, shaking her head. "I won't, I promise."
"Good," he said, satisfied. "Now hush up, girl. We both need to sleep. I'll be right here."
She nodded and rested her head against his chest, comforted by the tightness of his arms around her. It didn't take long for both of them to fall asleep.
Wake up, Adelinda. Wake up.
The familiar voice was calling, and when she opened her eyes, she was in the middle of the street. Double-decker buses and taxis sped past her, paying her no mind. It was as if they didn't see her. Every time she tried to make it to the sidewalk, one or the other would come so close to her she had to jump back. Her heart was pounding and her stomach was in knots.
"Why are you doing this?" she yelled, turning round and round, trying to find a way out of traffic.
'You are the only way out, Adelinda.'
She couldn't find the source of the voice, but she realized as she tried that she couldn't hear the noise of the busy London street—no car horns or radios, no shouting, no cell phones ringing; there was nothing. Nothing but the hissing voice of the man in her dream.
"What do you mean? Out of what? I just want you to leave me alone!"
'Funny, that's what your mother once said.'
Traffic came to an abrupt stop and the drivers froze mid-movement, some with their hands on the wheel and mouths open to speak, some with their hand poised to blow their horn, others yelling at their passengers. It was just a normal day in London.
She took her chance to run across the road, stumbling to stop as she saw skeletal hands reaching for her from the sidewalk. "Stop it!" she screamed, tearing away from the hooded figures. She ran again, but she was surrounded and ended up back in the middle of the street.
Through the lines of cars and buses, she saw a woman crouched; she wore robes and was bleeding from the mouth. 'My love…my love…' there was a moving photograph of a baby at her feet. 'Don't hurt her….don't hurt her!'
Adelinda began to walk closer, slowly. The man speaking had to be hurting her, too. "Miss?" she called out, her eyes flitting from sidewalk to sidewalk. The people in black just stood there, watching, waiting.
'She can't hear you, Adelinda. Does she look familiar?'
The woman was small and waifish, with dark hair. Her pale skin was littered with scrapes and bruises, and her robe was torn around the feet, little bits of leaves and dirt sticking to it. She had been running through a forest, away from someone, something.
'DOES SHE LOOK FAMILIAR?'
Adelinda jumped as he yelled. "Miss! Miss, are you okay?" The figures began to move towards her and she ran to the room, dropping to her knees in front of her. "We have to go!"
The lady was sobbing now, rocking back and forth, holding the picture of the baby in her hand. When Adelinda grabbed her shoulders, the woman looked her in the face and let out a bloodcurdling scream; she was taken aback by the greenness of her eyes and didn't notice as the busses began moving and pushed right through the woman, and then Adelinda was screaming as her own body was being dragged across the pavement, her arms caught in the metal of the bus-
She woke up in a cold sweat, gasping. "Wha—wha's goin' on?" Draco mumbled, feeling her sit up. He wrapped his arms around her waist. She shook him off, fumbling for her wand to brighten the lamp on her desk. When the room was flooded with light he sat up, covering his eyes.
"Bloody hell!" he rubbed at them vigorously and blinked until his eyes had adjusted. "Adelinda?"
She was sitting on the edge of her bed with her back turned to him and her arms wrapped around herself. "Nightmare," she said quietly. "I'm fine."
"Come here," he said, propping himself up on an elbow. She crawled back into bed. "Was it the same one as always?"
"No." her voice was little more than a whisper, as if the man in her dream could still hear her. "I was back in London on that street, with all that traffic around me, and—those hooded people were on the sidewalks. There was a woman in the middle of the road and he kept asking if she looked familiar, he was getting so angry—he kept telling me I was his only way out. That he needed me."
"Who? Who is 'he?'" Draco asked, blinking himself awake.
"The same man as always!" Her breathing was becoming erratic. "And then the bus hit me, and it was dragging me, and—and it could've actually happened, maybe I shouldn't even be alive right now—" her words alarmed him and he sat up.
"Adelinda, you've got to calm down," he said firmly, grabbing her shoulders. Her eyes were wide and her face was void of all color. "Breathe with me. Now." His hands moved to her cheeks and he rubbed circles into her skin with his thumbs. "It was just a dream, okay?"
"But it was real a few days ago," she whispered, closing her eyes. Her hands were atop his, gripping them tightly.
He had nothing to say to that. She was right.
"Well, maybe this is a result of that—you're traumatized, as you should be after a near-death experience."
"It wasn't just that," she said. "It wasn't just that, he made me do it. They made me do it, and they're in my head. They aren't just dreams!"
She had never said anything like this before and a chill went down his spine. She believed this with every ounce of her being. "How do you know?" he questioned wearily.
"It doesn't feel right, it doesn't feel like a dream—it's all too real—" she took a deep breath.
"Adelinda, you've got to calm down, love," he said softly, trying to soothe her. He pulled her close and kissed her. "It was only a nightmare and everything will be okay. As long as you're with me, you're safe."
He kissed her, over and over again, until he felt the tension leaving her body. When he could no longer see her pulse jumping in her neck he began to kiss his way down her neck and chest. "You're safe, and I love you."
"I love you, too—" she gave a little gasp as his tongue flicked her nipple. "Right now?"
"Why not?" she squirmed beneath his touches and he undid the buttons on her gown, his lips following his hands.
"Because—we have to be up in the morning—oh." The tip of his tongue touched the most intimate part of her, sending a wave of pleasure through her body. Her fingers tangled into his hair, her other hand gripping the sheets.
"Do you really want to go back to sleep?" he mumbled against her inner thigh, caressing her legs.
"Uh-uhhh."
"Then hush." He touched her in ways that made it hard for her to do as he said, making her writhe and squirm in pleasure. When she cried out he moved up and kissed her, his fingers continuing his tongue's work. "Shh. You'll wake everyone."
"I can't help it," she whined into his mouth, her arms wrapped tight around his neck. His eyes were glossy with sleep and desire, his lips pink and shining. She kissed him feverishly and then moved her lips to his neck, biting and sucking at the soft skin there, drawing little noises from him.
"Wand," he muttered as her hand slid down to the hardness of him, stroking him slowly, softly. "You bloody tease." He cast a quick contraceptive charm and with a surprising suddenness was pushing into her, taking both her wrists and holding them above her head. His other hand covered her mouth as she let out a noise of pleasure, her body craning upwards against his.
"Silencing charm," she mumbled into his palm, nipping at his fingers. Her breathing was quick and her eyes closed, lips parted in a beautiful display of physical bliss.
"That's no fun," he murmured, still holding her wrists, and he began to bite roughly at her neck and shoulders as she wrapped her legs around his hips. "Oh, hell—"
His pace quickened and every time their thighs connected she was gasping and wriggling against him, and sure enough, their night was spent coming together instead of sleeping. As they lay basking in the warmth of each other afterwards, sunlight began to creep through her window. She buried her face in his bare chest.
"I hate to leave you," he drawled, kissing her. She lay against the front of his body, skin-to-skin. "But we both need to bathe, and I need to get back to my room before anyone gets up…"
It would do them no good for girls to see him sneaking from her bedroom, and in such a disheveled state. He dressed and left and she pulled her nightgown on, standing and stretching. She felt unusually awake but knew that would likely fade through the day. Gathering her clothes, she made her way to the baths and got ready for her first day back at school. It had been only a week but felt much as though it had been much longer.
She noticed that something was off immediately when she walked into the potions classroom. Instead of Slughorn sitting at the large desk, there was a short, thin man; the former professor's clutter was gone. She gave Draco a look when she spotted him. She knew why their potions teacher wasn't present.
Penelope was sitting at their table already, eyeing the new man. "Have you ever seen him before?" she asked Adelinda once she took a seat.
She shook her head. "No, I haven't. Maybe Slughorn is sick." Unlikely.
"Maybe," Penelope agreed with a shrug. Once everyone was seated and the doors had closed for the final time, the man stood to address them.
"Good-morning," he greeted, giving a little smile at the half-asleep reply the class gave him. "My name is Blake Connelly, Professor Connelly to you, and I will be taking over for Professor Slughorn."
"Where did Professor Slughorn go?" the question came from the Gryffindor side of the room.
"That is not for me to discuss," the new teacher said. "Today will be an easy day; I want to gauge each of your skill levels over the next few classes and determine the best way to help all of you prepare for your exams. We will begin today with a simple Calming Draught. You should know which ingredients and supplies you need for this potion, so I will give no instructions—you may begin. Gryffindor side, retrieve your things first. Mr. Malfoy, Miss Amoretto, I believe you have make-up assignments for me?"
Adelinda retrieved her work from her bag. It had been the most useless assignment she had ever had to do—five paragraphs on the brewing of Polyjuice Potion. All she had to do was look it up in her textbook and paraphrase the information she found. Regardless, she had finished it and she had written it well; she took it up to the desk and handed it to Professor Connelly.
"Miss Amoretto," the small man said quietly as she began to turn away.
"Sir?"
"I would like you to understand something. I am not like your former Professor; I will not sit by while students brew dangerous potions or play your friend. I am here to teach you, and that is it. I will tolerate no kind of trouble."
Adelinda's face hardened. "With all due respect, Professor, I do not believe you should speak on things when you've not heard the story in its entirety."
"And how do you know I haven't?" His dark eyes narrowed and she sighed, irritated.
"If you had, you would know that speaking to me about this is very inappropriate." Her face was void of emotion and her voice was as polite as she could make it.
"I'm simply letting you know, Miss Amoretto. I don't want any misunderstandings in my classroom. You are to brew only what I say you may brew, and only during class or under my supervision."
"Did Professor McGonagall say that it was okay to speak to me about this?" Adelinda asked, her voice sharp and eyebrows raised as she waited for an answer. "No? I didn't think so. Perhaps you shouldn't."
His pale face turned beet red. Draco had walked up with his own assignments and he was watching them, listening, ready to assist Adelinda or calm her down before she got into trouble. "You are in no position to tell me what I should and shouldn't do, young lady," he said firmly, loudly. "In fact, I'm quite amazed you haven't been expelled because of this!"
"I'm amazed you haven't gotten the hint and stopped talking," Adelinda spat in an uncharacteristic show of hostility. "If you speak to me about this subject again, I'm going to the headmaster."
Professor Connelly's face hardened with anger and embarrassment—the class was watching them now. Ginny and Hermione looked concerned and confused. "Detention!" he spat. "Tonight, and for the rest of the week. Do not talk back to your elders."
Draco slammed his papers on the desk and grabbed her hand, leading her away from the desk. "Adelinda, what are you doing?" he asked, exasperated. He stood beside her table. Penelope was looking at them, waiting for her to answer his question.
"You know what he was talking about," she said, her narrowed eyes fixed on the humiliated Professor. "He has no right."
"Well, actually, as much as I understand your anger—he does," Draco said, and she turned her angry eyes on him. He couldn't help the smirk that played across his lips. She was cute when she was mad, even when she was trying her hardest to be intimidating. "He is a presumptuous man, though. He won't make many friends here. Just get your potion done, show him how well you can brew, and perhaps he'll cut you a break." He turned his eyes to Penelope. "Keep her in line, yeah?"
Penelope laughed at that. "I'll try." Draco fetched both girls' ingredients for them before getting his own and sitting down at his table. "Uhm, I know you're going to tell me what that was about."
"Nope." Her reply was curt.
"Why not?" Penelope questioned, looking at her incredulously.
"It's embarrassing, and I really don't think I'm supposed to be talking about it, which is why I'm so angry that Connelly was. What kind of name is that, anyway?"
"An Irish one, I believe," Penelope replied cheerfully. She smiled back at Adelinda's glare. "You are a moody one this morning, hm? You must not have gotten much sleep." She had that impish twinkle in her eye that Adelinda either hated or loved, depending on who it was directed at.
"I didn't, and no, you don't get details," Adelinda said, her voice mockingly mean but her smile sweet. "Since you want to be so bloody annoying this morning."
"Oh, I'm hurt!"
"As if." And with that, they were discussing the potion, and eventually the outcome of the trial, until they were interrupted by Connelly.
"How's it going, ladies?" he asked, peering into each of their cauldrons. Penelope's was very slightly off in color, but he couldn't find anything to critique about Adelinda's. She thought about telling him he was an idiot if he didn't realize a student that could brew Dreamless Sleep could probably brew a perfect Calming Draught, too, but she already had detention for a week and there were too many curious ears around them.
He swirled the ladle around the cauldron and scooped some up, bringing it to his lips. "It's a tad bitter," he said, his tone reflecting his description of her potion. "Work on that."
Adelinda narrowed her eyes in anger. She and this teacher were not going to get along. "Bloody hell, what is that man's problem?" she fumed once he had left their table, throwing a handful of powder into the cauldron. The potion began to smoke. "Bet that's sweet enough."
"Good lord, you are irritable!" Penelope commented, nudging her when Adelinda turned angry eyes her way. "Oh, calm down."
"He's…ugh, he's just a pompous little man, isn't he?" she shook her head, taking a deep breath. "Whatever."
Draco walked her to her next class when potions had ended; there were stares and some whispers as the walked arm-in-arm, but she ignored them, too busy ranting about the teacher. "He's just angry nobody likes him," she said, nose in the air. "I mean, he can't dress himself, it seems, and his hair is a mess, and he's old. So he has to take it out on his young, lively students."
"You sound more and more like a Slytherin every day," Draco teased with a smirk. She frowned at him.
"Detention for a week. Can you believe it?"
"Considering the way you spoke to him—which I do commend you for, even if it did land you in detention—yes, I can believe it," he said.
"Whatever." She was pouting when he kissed her good-bye. She went through the rest of her day annoyed and tired and quite grumpy, and after supper with her Gryffindor friends, she walked solemnly to detention. Draco had promised to meet her outside the classroom when it was over.
She walked in to the classroom; there were lines and lines of cauldrons laid out upon the table. She groaned—of course she would be cleaning cauldrons. She wouldn't be doing it alone, however; there were two other students there with her.
"Miss Amoretto, I'm happy to see that you have decided to grace us with your presence," Professor Connelly greeted sarcastically.
She smiled sweetly at him. "Yes, I'm sure you were awaiting it eagerly."
He huffed angrily—she was determined to never let him have the last word, the best sarcasm, or the wittiest rebuttals. "You'll be cleaning cauldrons with your classmates," he barked. "One hour, no magic allowed."
"Uh-huh. I'll get right to it."
What she really wanted to do was get right to bed (or rather, to Draco). She walked to the front of the classroom to retrieve her cleaning supplies, draping her robe over a chair and rolling the sleeves of her sweater up. The other two students were quiet and it took her awhile to realize one of them was Ashley Rogers, the girl who had been missing for a few days before she'd gone to London—was the professor singling out students who had been recently traumatized, or was he that oblivious? She wondered what the young girl had done to land herself in detention. She wasn't a troublemaker by any means, so perhaps whatever had happened to her truly had messed her up.
Connelly cleared his throat and she realized she was staring. Her cheeks turned pink and she began scrubbing at the cauldrons again. Ashley had noticed her looking; Adelinda felt a pang of guilt. The girl was probably tired of people staring and wondering. No details had ever been released to the students when she had been found, and if Ashley had told her friends what had happened, they had told no one else. The Slytherin girl hoped she didn't think she was just another nosy classmate.
Ashley turned away when Adelinda went back to cleaning. She wanted the hour to be over with—she had assignments to finish and sleep to be had, and perhaps a warm mug of Butterbeer from Draco's personal stash. Whether he liked it or not, she was sleeping in his room with him. The nightmares were changing and she didn't like it.
"Alright, students," Connelly spoke, clapping his hands together. "You're dismissed. I will see you all again tomorrow. Same time, same task…you'll finish whatever you didn't get to today." Adelinda sighed and he turned his eyes on her. "What was that?"
"Nothing," she said sweetly, rolling her eyes when he turned away. She draped her folded robe over her shoulder and tucked her wand into the waist of her skirt, making her way to the doors.
"Amoretto!" a small voice called after her. She turned to see Ashley walking towards her.
"Rogers," She greeted cautiously, wondering what the girl could want. Perhaps to tell her off for staring? She decided to beat her to it. "Hey, I didn't mean to stare earlier—I don't want you to think I'm rude. I haven't had much sleep and I think I was dozing off." She smiled warmly at the younger girl. It wasn't really a lie.
"No, it's okay," Ashley said with a little smile. "I'm used to staring. I bet you are too. We've both been the talk of the school lately," she joked, and Adelinda laughed.
"Yeah, you're right," she said. Maybe that was why the girl was addressing her—she needed a friend who understood being the subject of gossip and stares in the corridor.
"How do you deal with it?" Ashley asked quietly. She was a small girl, smaller than Adelinda, thin and short; her features were fairy-like, sharp and pale. "The staring? Even my friends don't treat me the same as they did before—you know. They walk on eggshells like every little thing will break me."
"You just have to show them that you're not as fragile as they think," Adelinda told her softly. She was only seventeen, but the girl in front of her looked and sounded so young and nervous—she wanted to hug her. "I don't know what happened, but things will go back to normal, I promise. Just give it time."
"Thank you," Ashley said, looking down for a moment before meeting Adelinda's eyes with a warm, sweet smile. She was going to be very pretty when puberty truly hit her—her eyes were a brown that glowed in the yellow light of the lanterns, her curly hair wild and her dark skin perfectly unblemished. It was no wonder she was the subject of stares. "Really, thank you. I'll see you around the common room?"
"And at tomorrow's detention, of course," Adelinda said with a laugh. Ashley extended her hand to shake but Adelinda's heart caught in her throat.
On her forearm were several huge, slowly healing punctures, the perfect size for a snake's fangs to fit into. "—what happened your arm?" Adelinda choked out. Ashley looked down, alarmed. Her face paled and she yanked her sleeve down. "I—I'm sorry, I don't meant to be rude and you don't have to answer, it just—startled me. I'm sorry."
"It's okay!" Ashley said a little too quickly. "I don't—I don't really know what happened, but the healers said it was a snake bite…I don't really know."
Adelinda nodded. Her heart was racing and her chest was tight with panic. "I'm sorry I asked," she apologized again, and this time Ashley smiled.
"Don't worry about it, Amoretto," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow." Adelinda watched the girl walk away, so deep in thought that she didn't realize Draco was behind her.
"Adelinda?"
She jumped, turning around quickly. "Merlin, you scared me," she gasped, her hand on her chest. "Draco, I—I need to tell you something, let's go somewhere private—"
His mind immediately went to the worst—she couldn't be with him anymore, she couldn't stop thinking about he and Pansy, someone had said something to make her change her mind—but he agreed wearily and let her lead him to the Room of Requirements. Once inside she paced before the fire. "Would you stay still?" Draco grabbed her shoulders, making her face him. "What the hell is going on?"
She stared at him. "You can't call me crazy," she said. Her face had drained of color and her hands felt clammy.
He schooled his expression into one of indifference. "Adelinda, have I ever called you crazy?"
"No, but there have been times when you haven't quite believed me—"
"I was wrong not to believe you. Adelinda, tell me what's going on," Draco said firmly, letting go of her shoulders. She turned immediately to the fire, staring off into it for a moment.
She wouldn't look at him as she spoke. "When that girl went missing—Ashley Rogers—"
"The one you were speaking to when I walked up?" She hadn't realized he had been there that long, but she nodded. "Alright. Go on."
"When she went missing, I had a dream—the same nightmare as always, in that room with the covered chairs and the snake—" she hesitated. "—wait, it was the night that I woke up late and you were drinking in the common room and then I got drunk too—" she took a breath, trying to compose her thoughts. "It was the same dream as always, but Ashley was there. She was there, and I was there, and in that dream she got bitten by the snake…"
"So…?" Draco didn't understand what she was trying to tell him.
She finally turned to him, her eyes full of fear. "She has a snake bite on her arm, and it happened while she was missing."
He stared at her for a second before sitting down. It was all too reminiscent of the things that were happening before the war. Arthur Weasley getting bitten by Nagini in the ministry, Harry Potter dreaming of it…
"You were right, Adelinda," he said, his voice empty. He was just as scared as she was. "Someone is in your head."
A/N: oooo, exciting...;) hope you guys enjoyed and please review!