Dear Mallory,
How are you? To hear about your fantastic achievements in school so far has Lucius and I extremely hopeful for your upcoming OWLs this summer. He has been connecting with his many contacts to ensure you have a place within the Ministry over your summer holidays before starting your NEWTs. We're very confident that we have found a fantastic internship for you with a very skilled, successful and ambitious witch.
We have heard already from Draco about the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. What did you make of this? I hope that all of this excitement at school hasn't welcomed any new distractions from your schoolwork. Your developing magic is most important of all.
I am assuming you are still a glowing success during your studies of Transfiguration. I am sure you have already achieved great things since returning in September. What are you working on?
Draco has informed me that you have a visit for Hogsmeade this weekend. Please use this as an opportunity to buy yourself some new dress robes (this is advice I have already passed onto Draco, also). We have opened a credit account at all of the dress stores in Hogsmeade, buy whatever you like as this is a Christmas present from Lucius and I to both you and Draco.
After all, I know that the last thing you will want for this Christmas is to return home to the manor.
Finally, I have been worried as there have been no mentions of your nightmares in your letters this term. Have you found a handle for them? You know that I am here if you need any advice or support.
Yours,
Narcissa Malfoy
"What are you writing there?" Amara asks, looking over Mallory as she pauses over her piece of parchment, quill steady in hand.
"Writing a reply to Narcissa's letter," she replies, chewing on her lip. "Or, trying to, at least."
"What's wrong with it?" She asks, leaning her head to the side, which causes her auburn hair to stroke against the desk before them, covering the Charms textbooks that Amara had pulled at random from the shelves of the library.
"It's just hard to put everything down into words, I guess," she says, full of thought. "There's so much to say but it's hard to-"
"This is why I don't write." Amara cuts off, pointing down at the blank parchment. "I mean, Amycus and Alecto also don't care. But, that's besides the point. If I had parents I wouldn't be writing to them either. What would I write? 'Hi parents, I'm really sorry that I don't care about my studies, put in the bare minimum and spend most of my time dragging my best friend to the library to fake study'."
"They could be proud of the fact that Madam Pince now knows your name," Mallory adds, gesturing to the stately librarian of Hogwarts. Over the past few weeks of the 'VK Fan Club' - dubbed by Blaise - Madam Pince has become more inquisitive about the studying habits of the students and their reasons for disturbing the quiet of her library. Amara even impressed Mallory when she explained their desperate need to 'study charms'. "That shows progress, since you'd never even set foot in this place before now."
"I guess that just shows I'm growing as a person," she replies with mock propriety, fanning the textbook with her hair. "Just write whatever you want, Mrs Malfoy's probably too busy to read it properly anyway."
"Why would she be busy?"
Amara's eyes widen only for a moment, before returning to their usual size and she shrugs immediately in response to Mallory's question.
"I would assume she's busy doing Malfoy things, whatever that entails - Look, here he is," her eyes lighten up, emerald flecks dancing within the brown of her eyes as she self-consciously smooths out her hair, looking between the open textbook between her hands and Viktor Krum, as he wanders through the library alone. "Oh!" She gasps, eyes turning dark as whatever sight she sees, causes anger.
Mallory, curious and wondering what could've caused such an immediate reaction in Amara, turns to look over her shoulder, feeling self-conscious that if he catches her looking he'll think that Mallory is also part of the 'VK Fan Club'. But, she realises immediately what, or who, had caused such anger to erupt from within Amara, as Viktor Krum sits at a table towards the middle of the library, even as the curious and adoring eyes watch him, chatting away with Hermione Granger, the muggle-born.
"That mudblood," Amara curses, flipping the pages of her textbook so violently that Mallory expects her to give herself a papercut. The sound of furious scraping of the pages against the desk, Amara's wild eyes that remain unmoving, watching the unlikely couple through her peripheral vision causes Mallory also to turn her attention back to the letter. Hoping, at least, that she could read the beginning of her reply to distract Amara from her trembling rage.
Narcissa,
School is going well, for the most part. Everyone at Hogwarts has been swept up with the excitement of the Triwizard Tournament. The first task was very exciting, the older students' use of magic was exciting to see. It makes me wonder what I could be capable of when I turn 17. You'll be happy to hear, though, that it's not affecting my studies and that I'm spending more time than ever in the library, reading up on my subjects.
"Really, what could he see in her?" Tuts Amara, breaking the rhythm of her writing as Mallory looks up once more. Amara's rage has broken out in red patches of skin that dot about her face like an angry cheetah.
"Maybe he's scoping out the competition," suggests Mallory. "She is friends with Harry Potter after all. She's probably the one responsible for helping him with that summoning charm. It was quite impressive."
"Really, Mallory?" She turns her rage onto her best friend, shaking her head furiously as she slams the unread Charms textbook shut. "What is with you lately? Chatting with Weasleys, admiring Potter's charmwork and now you're sticking up for a mudblood."
Mallory chuckles in response, as she always does when she hears Amara use the slur with such ease.
"Watch your language, we're in the library," she jokes, warily looking over to Madam Pince, who, it appears, has also been swept away by the gossip of Hogwarts as she studies Krum and Granger with interest too. "And I'm not sticking up for her. I'm just giving you other suggestions rather than immediately thinking that he's only talking to her because he's interested in her. I've heard she's unbelievably annoying."
"Draco?"
Mallory nods, confirming that during their summers together at Malfoy Manor, she had often heard Draco rant about the muggle-born Gryffindor.
"Where's your badge, anyway?" Mallory asks, catching sight of the blank Slytherin robes that Amara was wearing that evening. "You had it on at dinner."
Amara looks down but is not surprised to see the badge isn't there. Shrugging, she opens the textbook once more, playing with the folded contents page with her fingers.
"I felt silly wearing it when you aren't." She explains. "How's the letter going?"
"Slow," Mallory answers, passing the letter across the table for Amara to read. "I'm not sure how to explain how my studies are going when I don't care about any of them other than Transfiguration."
"I mean you say that but you'll still be passing all of your OWLs."
"Even Arithmancy?" Mallory asks with a grin. "Because I've still not been able to see how my charts always end up with a bunch of 5s."
"I bet you'll be really annoying and get an Outstanding in that now," Amara huffs with fake irritation. "You don't even need to try, you've got that pureblood natural magic on your side. I wouldn't worry at all about your future of magic."
I think you'll both be pleased in my progression of Transfiguration. We've now started disillusionment. I've successfully disillusioned my eyebrows and my foot! Now, I need to work on my speed before I begin tackling larger areas of space.
"Wait up!" Mallory insists, skidding slightly on the path towards Hogsmeade as Blaise's wider treads means that he's beginning to create a distance between the two of them. "Don't you want to see?"
"I want to get inside from this bloody cold, Mal," Blaise retorts, rolling brown eyes at her, but stopping anyway to watch his friend.
Mallory holds her wand above her head, watching as brown, crispy leaves float lifelessly to the ground from the trees. The final falling leaves as winter begins and she focuses on a particularly large leaf, since she's already disillusioned her entire foot and ankle.
With her head tilted back to fully survey the sky above her, with darkening clouds and a whistle of the wind whirling cool air into her ears. She imagines that very leaf blending into the sky as it floats like a feather towards the ground. It continues to free-fall as Blaise's subdued laughter causes a slight distraction. Then, with only the sky opening up wider to accept the newest additions, blowing even more leaves from their trees, hers disappears itself into the backdrop.
"Shit!" He swears, stomping back towards Mallory and the disillusioned leaf. The fallen leaves crunch against his shoes as Mallory giggles and he pulls her into a wild hug that leaves them both stumbling over their feet. "That was impressive, Mal!"
"Why, thank you." She curtsies to Blaise. With the connection lost, the leaf reappears, falling to the ground peacefully, as if it had never been disturbed from its route to the ground of Hogsmeade. "What are your plans for today?"
Blaise shrugs, placing his hands into his pockets solemnly.
"I'll probably head for the Three Broomsticks for a bit, meet up with some of the others," Though, Mallory isn't sure who the 'others' are. Did that mean Draco? "I think the goal of today is to be wherever Amara isn't. I've had my fill of her for a while."
"You are horrendous!" Mallory laughs, shoving into Blaise's side as he laughs at her own shocked reaction. "As long as you avoid any shops that may sell dress robes, I'm sure you'll succeed in your mission."
"What are all of these dress robes for, anyway?"
"Narcissa told me to buy some as a Christmas present," Mallory shrugs. "So, naturally, Amara wants a dress now too."
Turns out, I have an even better shopping partner in Amara than you!
"Definitely not!" Scoffs Amara when Mallory emerges from the dressing room is a long, flattering golden gown. "I don't want you turning up anywhere as a golden Gryffindor."
Mallory rolls her eyes, knowing that she had predicted this reaction right before she entered the dressing room with the gown. "Try something with silver next time if you want my approval!"
"Does this mean that blue is also excluded?" Mallory asks, pulling another dress from the rack that catches her eye. It's a dark, navy blue and she wonders whether, with her black curls, it may be too dark for her anyway.
"Well I'm not saying you have to go for Slytherin colours. Just… don't go for Gryffindor either."
"Okay, I see. Let's find you something, first, before settling on mine." Mallory suggests, wondering whether, once Amara sees that by excluding Hogwarts house colours, she limits herself to very few dresses. "Madam Modiste?"
Out comes Madam Modiste, which Mallory is convinced isn't her real name. A middle-aged witch who's wand acts as a needle and thread when creating her garments, Narcissa has been a long-standing customer. Naturally, then, upon entering her small shop in the corner of Hogsmeade, opposite Zonkos and the post office, Madam Modiste immediately recognised the Black family resemblance and insisted that Mallory would find the perfect robes for her. Her golden eyes narrow at Amara, studying her face, her shape before, at expert speed, she begins perusing her own gowns and picks out dresses like Ollivander picks out wands.
Too light.
Too short.
Too bland!
Madam Modiste continues to throw dresses at Amara, who flourishes under the attention, agreeing with every word Madam Modiste says and even relents to trying on a smaller red number, since Madam Modiste had insisted that the ruffles would emphasise her perfect bone structure.
Minutes pass as Mallory, drawing more and more bored, begins imagining herself in dresses like these. Whilst Narcissa's wardrobe is filled with dress robes for every occasion, since pureblood society is always inviting the two Malfoys to balls and dinner parties, but the invitation had never been extended to Mallory. Even Draco, as the heir to the Malfoy fortune, had attended them across the years during the summer, even running into Amara herself who is forced by her older siblings and guardians.
Would she ever be included in those types of parties? Even with a surname as besmirched as Black, which belongs to her through Narcissa Malfoy alone. Her fingers stroke across the different fabrics, as if imagining herself waltzing through a ballroom, tucked under the arm of a pureblood suitor, or even half-blood would do, if he had been invited.
"Look at that!" Madam Modiste gasps when Amara returns from the dressing room.
She runs her hands down the dress, smiling widely at Mallory who cheers at her appearance.
"Do a twirl!" Mallory insists as Amara, a vision in red basks in the obvious admiration from her best friend.
Madam Modiste, Mallory realises, had been correct about the frills suiting her. Cascading frills adorn the silk red dress, reaching Amara's feet, the fabric dipping on her back as Mallory wonders whether this has been the prettiest Amara has ever been.
"You're stunning!" Mallory beams, cheering once more for the dress chosen for her best friend as, red forgotten, Amara immediately insists is the dress for her.
"Maybe next time I won't be so stubborn when my brother and sister drag me to another society meeting."
"You'd better not if it gives you the opportunity to wear that!" Mallory insists, her hands still self-consciously tracing the different textures of the dresses beside her. "I think I like this one."
Maybe you'd be disapproving of Amara buying a dress that, despite her insistances that it doesn't, makes her look like a Gryffindor princess. I think there's something admiral, though, about her taking that colour for her own. But, if her spending habits makes her look like a Gryffindor, then there's no doubting which house I'm in! I was a bit worried about it at first, but now I LOVE it! I wish you could see it, too!
"Are you sure?" Repeats Mallory, tugging at the stitches of the dress which tug into her waist. "I feel like it's screaming a bit too much Slytherin?"
"That's impossible! You could never look too Slytherin!" Madam Modiste insists, pulling away Mallory's self-conscious hands and brushing down the length of the dress, ensuring that it hits the floor properly.
"And not too much skin?" Mallory asks, turning to survey herself in the mirror. The green velvet dress hits the floor like Amara's. Where her dress had been a slippery silk, Mallory's is a softening velvet, cushioning into her curves and dipping down low at her back. It is similar to Amara's whilst being wildly different.
"Non." Madam Modiste insists, slipping back into her native French. "Just enough for a sixteen year old like you."
"Good." Mallory insists, pulling at her curls, imagining herself in the dress if they'd been styled into a bun. She cradles the curls, pulling some of them here and there to watch her reflection. "And it's not too Slytherin?"
"You look like a Slytherin princess, Mal!" Amara giggles, clapping her hands at the sight of her friend. "Though I don't know when you began to think that that could ever be a bad thing!"
She wonders that too, thinking of how Fred Weasley would react, if he ever saw her in this dress. Would he be blown away by the sight, like Mallory had been when Amara had emerged in her own expensive, elegant dress, or would he be too side-tracked by the dark, Slytherin green?
"I guess you're right."
"No, I am right, Mallory!" She insists, moving across the same tailor's shop to grab Mallory's uncertain hands. "If you don't buy this, you will regret it. You look stunning! Plus, I saw women wearing dresses just like this when we went to a dinner party in Berlin, so you'll definitely be very fashionable whenever you get the opportunity to wear it."
"When did you go to Berlin?" Mallory asks, distracted by the mention of the city that Mallory had no idea Amara had ever visited.
The question catches her off-guard, as her brown eyes crease in remembrance, and thought lines indent themselves into her forehead as she continues to lose herself in her memories.
"Was Berlin after Austria?"
"Austria?" Asks Amara, suddenly her attention is no longer across Europe, but back in the small dressmakers of Hogsmeade.
"Yeah… you went to Austria, didn't you?"
"I went to Albania."
Amara swallows hard, as if her throat is suddenly dry and Mallory watches her best friend's worrying expression return as her gaze turns to the wooden floors, as if the soft lines of wood are suddenly the most interesting sight in the room. A red tint rises in her neck as her hands wipe across her brow, where lines are left in her hands' wake.
"Are you-"
"Wow!"
Mallory's start of a question is cut off by the bell ringing in the shop. Both girls turn, both smiling forcibly as Mikael enters the shop. He smiles back, gesturing to Mallory, who still stands in her unnecessary green gown.
"Is that dress the one? You must be buying it Mallory, yes?"
"I am," Mallory agrees, eliciting a cheer from Amara who hugs into her friend, feeling the soft velvet against her cheek as they begin to bounce with excitement.
"That dress is beautiful on you, Mallory." Mikael insists once more, causing her to blush. Has anyone ever made her blush before, Mallory wonders to herself.
Mallory returns to the dressing room, almost feeling sorrowful to put on ordinary clothes as she carefully steps from the gown, since it shall now be hers to own. Even as she pulls on her Slytherin scarf she feels that it is not green enough, after being draped head to toe in the emerald of the gown.
"I only came in as I saw you, Amara, through the window." She hears Mikael say from behind the curtain. "I wondered if you'd both like to accompany me to that pub you'd mentioned the three…"
"Broomsticks." Amara finishes for him.
Mallory emerges from the dressing room to see the glint of emerald shining in Amara's eyes, always a clear way to read her excitement, even from across a shop floor.
I'm still not convinced that I won't return home over Christmas. Maybe Draco has made his mind up to stay because of the Tournament, but there's nothing keeping me away for Christmas. I've made some new friends, but that still doesn't mean I'll want to spend my favourite time of year with them.
She imagines the spread of food at Malfoy Manor as they enter the cocooned warmth of the Three Broomsticks.
"Who are we meeting, again?" Mallory asks Mikael, who is pulling his furs, hat and gloves off at the door. Even Mallory unwraps her Slytherin scarf, feeling the overwhelming warmth of the several fires lit up around the pub.
"Your brother-" Mallory resists the urge to correct the Durmstrang student. "With some of his Slytherin friends, your brother is a good host, he's shown us around very thoroughly."
She catches sight of the top of Blaise's head, sitting around with Draco and other Slytherin students, among the red robes of a small group of Durmstrang students, tucked away in the corner of the room. She realises her best friend does not seem out of place amongst the most popular of the Slytherin house. The group is so large, in fact, that it overspills just one table and empty tables surround them, having had their chairs removed to be added to the large group.
"What do you two want? Butterbeers?" Mallory asks, glancing at the bar where Madam Rosmerta serves several other Hogwarts students. The room is filled with Hogwarts students, flocking to the warmth of the pub as the days begin to feel colder and colder. Though it's strange to see the many Durmstrang students without their usual furs.
As Amara and Mikael give Mallory their orders, a different shade of red catches her eye. Surrounded by benches at the back of the room, on the opposite wall to the group of Durmstrang and Slytherins, Fred Weasley immediately catches her eye.
With his twin on one side and another Gryffindor friend on the other, neither have noticed that, in the middle of their conversation, Fred has completely taken his attention elsewhere. Like a child in a candy shop, he beckons Mallory over, who's heart lurches at the sight.
"I'll meet you at the table, then. I'll get the drinks." She insists, pushing Amara away before she can see the sight of a Weasley, blood traitor, Gryffindor, beckoning for her to join his group. Her heart vibrates in her chest at the open deed of acceptance. Grey meets brown across the room as she subtly shakes her head, attempting to gesture with her eyes towards Amara and Mikael. Fred looks back down at his drink, deep in thought and smile dispersed.
"Hello, Miss Black, what can I get you?" Asks Madam Rosmerta, with the respect added to her name, as if reminding them both of the connections that Mallory has through her foster family.
"Three butterbeers, please." She asks politely, hoping that the aloof expression on the barmaids face could be erased through manners.
"Alright." She insists, still unsmiling as she moves away, further down the bar to grab the three glasses for Mallory and her friends.
"Good day?" He asks without greeting her, sitting two stools down from her to create a natural space between them, as if meeting by chance.
"Yeah," she replies, holding up her packaged gown from Madam Modiste for Fred to see. He nods as if impressed, though, knowing the Weasley wealth, he probably judges the way she spends the Malfoy money. "What have you been doing?"
"Just had a few butterbeers, Rosmerta won't let us have anything stronger."
She laughs, causing him to smile too. Has it really been so many days since he'd last made her laugh?
"I'm sure you gave it your best attempt," Mallory jokes. "I'm sad I didn't get to see it, I'm sure you played all of your charms."
"There's no 'playing', Black." He replies, shifting closer down the bar. She glances down at his elbows as they rest on the wooden bar. She hopes that Rosmerta spends hours filling up those three glasses. "It's all natural charisma."
"I see now why she didn't give you the stronger drinks." She mocks, even as she feels that familiar glow and ache in her cheeks from a Fred Weasley smile.
He laughs, leaving the mockery without a response. Rosmerta brings the first full butterbeer glass to be placed in front of Mallory, as if she's an inspector.
"So, do your friends still hate me?"
"Just as much as yours hate me," Mallory replies with a laugh, even as she analyses the company that Fred had removed himself from. Whilst they haven't noticed her yet, and still laugh amongst each other, she knows as soon as they do notice why his friend has departed from them, she'll earn herself some confused and irritated glances. "Which friend is that?" She asks, trying to remain casual as she analyses the friend next to George. She knows he's a Gryffindor, even without the tie to represent his house as she immediately had recognised him, from those weeks ago, when he had heard her mock Harry Potter and had immediately returned to the twins to share her words.
"That's Lee," Fred responds, turning to look at his friend and twin, still unaware of Fred's current company. "Who's the bloke?"
"Mikael. He's from Durmstrang." Mallory informs him, wondering why he'd immediately asked about the person she'd not yet call a friend. "I think he fancies Amara." She adds, though she's not sure why.
Perhaps to distance herself from him? Though, just like the act of buying a green dress shouldn't factor in Fred Weasley's reaction, she's uncertain why she suddenly cares about establishing her distance from another boy.
Rosmerta hands her the second glass and Mallory realises their moments at the bar are beginning to die out, like a candle running out of wax and she longs to scoop up the wick, to fan it until she finds a new, longer way to keep it alight.
"So, did you get to see your brother? Was it, Charlie?"
"Charlie, yeah." He answers, smiling at her memory of their conversation. "We saw him briefly after the first task with Harry."
"Do you think you'll see him over Christmas?"
"Christmas? Nah. I think we're all going to be staying," he leans further across the bar, to rest his chin on his hands. "My family seem to think we're all going to be staying at Hogwarts over Christmas."
"Mine do too!" Mallory replies with a sudden excitement, so her voice reaches a new, higher pitch.
Rosmerta watches her furtively now, looking between the two unlikely customers engaged in a chat. Across the room, others hear her voice and watch her curiously.
"Well, my foster family. Draco has a habit of staying sometimes but I've always gone home over Christmas. I'm not sure what could be happening that would make me want to stay."
"Well…" Fred starts, watching as Rosmerta places the final glass of butterbeer in front of Mallory. Time up. "Three more of those for us too, Rosmerta."
"O'course, Fred." She smiles, taking the money from Mallory and returning to her place at the bar, pulling out three more glasses.
"As I was saying," he moves closer towards her, no longer that comfortable, natural distance separating the two. "If you're staying, that might make Christmas at school a bit more bearable."
"I agree." Mallory smiles, until she remembers that her order has been completed by Rosmerta. She glances back towards her friends, engaged in a discussion that has kept their attention away from her at the bar. She takes a chance. "I'll wait. Let me buy you your drinks, too."
"Thanks," he replies, smiling at her generosity and her gift of her presence for three more butterbeers.
Behind him, as he glances, he realises that his twin and best friend have noticed who is keeping him company.
"They don't look too happy," Mallory adds, turning too.
As her eyes find their faces both turn away, forcibly chatting to hide their obvious disapproval. Lee Jordan's smile is a grimace.
George Weasley's chocolate eyes, so similar to the warmth of Fred's, are dark like mud.
"They're missing their butterbeers." Fred jokes, "Maybe if somebody hadn't cut in the queue in front of me, we could be drinking them by now."
"That somebody may take away the offer to buy those butterbeers for them," she teases in response, feeling at ease once more in their give and take of mocking jokes.
Butterbeer one is placed between them. Fred takes a sip and sighs in contentment.
"So, what did you buy?" He asks, gesturing to the package that separates their feet at the bar.
"Dress robes. Christmas present from Lucius and Narcissa."
"Wow, did they buy you some pins in your eyes too, just to add to the fun?" He snorts, taking another sip. "Dress robes? How awful."
"Stop mocking my Christmas present. It's not like I have anything to wear it to anyway."
"I bet you Malfoys have wardrobes filled with them. Do you sleep in tuxedos?"
"Actually, during winter I prefer to sleep in ball gowns. It adds some extra insulation."
They continue to debate the suitability of different clothing options as Rosmerta fills the glasses.
"I'm just saying, maybe a top hat could help control those curls of yours."
"Careful, Weasley, or you'll be wishing for your whole head of hair back," she teases, as Rosmerta hands over the final glass to Fred.
Her eyes widen when Mallory pays for these, too.
"Don't threaten what you can't make true, Black." He teases in return and she smirks in victory, knowing that he's entirely unaware of her current studies into disillusionment. Perhaps disillusioning only a person's hair would be quite the challenge to impress McGonagall at their next meeting.
"You'd best start looking after that hair of yours, Weasley." She finishes, balancing her three glasses of butterbeer on the tray provided by Madam Rosmerta. She suddenly feels an urge to levitate all three of them, just to show her capability of magic. Then, remembers that there will be plenty of preparation.
First, though, she'll work on her disillusionment.
He gifts her with one more heart-warming smile, as warm as the Three Broomsticks itself as she returns to the unaware Slytherins, as she is completely unaware of the inquisition Fred will receive from his best friends.
"You took your time!" Gasps Amara when Mallory finally joins them.
Blaise rolls his eyes at the sound of her voice, smirking at Mallory as she resists mocking him for failing on his quest for an Amara-free day.
"Sorry, somebody cut in front of me and ordered three butterbeers." Mallory excuses herself, smiling at the memory of her moments with Fred, setting her package beside Amara and pulling a chair to sit beside her.
"You should've ordered some for the rest of us, Mallory!" Draco insists, sneering as Mallory takes her first sip of the drink. She contemplates, for a moment, to return. Not only to please her not-brother, but also on the off-chance that Fred may return to chat with her. Then, remembering the mildly furious face of George, which had been bizarre to see on the identical face of Fred's, she wonders whether that would bring more trouble for him than would be worth a few rallies of jokes with Mallory.
As for the nightmares, Narcissa, to be honest I'd completely forgotten about them. They stopped as soon as I returned to Hogwarts, and hopefully they'll never return! The distractions and excitement of the Triwizard Tournament must be a factor! I'm just glad they appear to have left me for good.
It isn't until she comes to finish up her letter, illuminated by a wandlight in their dorm as Amara sits happily at the end of Mallory's bed, scoffing her face with the remains of Mallory's birthday butterscotch, that she remembers the nightmares that had plagued her since the Quidditch World Cup. Instantly, it is as if she's returned to that camp ground, one foot stinging as twigs, glass and paraphernalia dig into her bare foot where the other was protected by her shoe. Desperately searching for her brother, as if only he could feel the helplessness of her and found her, to bring her home. The masks of cloaked men and women who search out those with lesser blood than hers, ready to harm them mentally or physically as they damage Mallory, one of their own.
"Are you okay?" Amara asks, pausing her feast of snacks as it hovers in the air, as Amara had tasked herself with levitating all of the chocolates into her mouth 'for practice'. "You've gone a little grey. Which is weird for a Black."
She laughs slightly at the joke on her surname, and for the first time since returning to Hogwarts she feels tempted to disclose everything to Amara. Not only her nightmares, that night at the Quidditch World Cup but also to come clean about her conversations with Fred Weasley that make her feel light, as if the ground couldn't cut her up as easily as it did before. Before, when she had the worst night of her life.
"Something has been on my mind, actually…" Mallory starts.
Amara's chocolate falls softly onto the mattress between them when her connection is lost. She discards her wand to get lost beneath the green sheets, reaching out for Mallory's hand.
"You can tell me anything."
She loses herself in the brown eyes of her friend, who worryingly taps the top of Mallory's hand with her fingers. Her friend, who, usually by now has done more than one disappearing act. Usually, to avoid speaking to Mallory about what is on her mind. Never before has Mallory even seen Amara cry, and even wonders if it could be possible for her to do so. Amara who easily dishes out compliments to those who she admires and just as easily can use her tongue as a knife and dig away at you like a meal who needs chopping into bite-sized pieces.
"I can't believe you're not angry about this." She'd all-but screamed it at Blaise as they'd walked away from her, all over one conversation with Fred Weasley. How could she even consider admitting something that Amara would be incapable of understanding. Even when considering it for three seconds, Amara had several excuses for why it would never work. So, how could she understand that Mallory believes it could? But, deeper than even a friendship with a Weasley, Mallory knows she couldn't understand the overwhelming rejection that Draco had dealt her. She'd wandered, the bottom of her foot mushed into torn flesh and dried blood fused to mud, screaming desperately for her brother, who had returned home to sleep safely, without her. Had he ever considered her?
So, even now, with his proud words, repetition of her jokes and the smiles that he actually gifts her, she wonders, will it ever heal away the scars she feels on her psyche?
"Do you think there could be a different way that we could get Viktor Krum's attention for you? It just seems everything we've done so far hasn't been working as quickly as we'd hoped."
"Really?" She asks, leaning backwards to grab the chocolate from the mattress, leaving a brown crumb as evidence of her temporary distraction. Now, though, she is undistracted once more. The wand replaces her concerned hand, levitating the next chocolate from the box even as she thoughtfully chews on her current one.
"Maybe tomorrow at breakfast we could sit closer to the Durmstrang side of the Slytherin table? Try to break our way into his conversation."
"That's a good idea!"
"I love it!" She bounces slightly on the bed, causing Mallory to shift from the reverberations on the springs of her bed. "Do you think I could really get him to like me?"
"What's there not to like?"
Honestly, Narcissa, this year has felt so different , maybe it's do with the Tournament and the fact that it's OWL year, but I really can see this being my best year at Hogwarts yet.
I'll see you at Christmas (maybe).
Mallory Black