DISCLAIMER: Obviously not JK Rowling. All ideas are my own :)
The weather doesn't seem to improve, with the stagnant air smothering the last few days of September.
I spend the next couple of days catching up with Hugo, and writing to our parents who, are eager to know how we're getting on back at school. Of course I avoid telling them that I have landed myself in detention for the next month, otherwise Mum would probably ground me when I come home for Christmas.
She's very smug that she managed to never get a detention while here, but I also have to remind her that she was on the run for her last year, and skipping an entire year is worse than a month's detention. I'm only joking though, I know it wasn't through choice.
What she faced in that year alone is harder than anything I'll have to face in my entire life, I'm sure of it. On the run, wanted by the people and ministry in charge, tortured for your blood type, having to watch your friends and teachers die. I couldn't do it, but then I don't have to, because of everything they fought for.
People often ask me if I am proud to have two war heroes for parents, and the famous Harry Potter as an uncle and godfather, and of course I am, but I can't help but think of how their innocence was snatched away, how their childhood disappeared. War was never a game, but a matter of life or death. I am proud to be their children, and not because of their names and the legacy they hold, but the fact that they made the world a better place. A world in which they were happy and excited to live, happy and excited to bring their children into, knowing that they had done the right thing.
I've been unable to take my mind off of Malfoy since hearing about his family emergency.
He doesn't show up to Wednesday's detention, nor any classes. His absence is a confirmation to what I feared, and I become even more certain when, on Saturday, Zabini and Nott are also missing.
I can't begin to fathom what Malfoy, and all of his family are feeling. I want to send a card, or flowers, anything to make it better really, even though we're not friends, but decide against it. No inanimate objects can ever replace a person whom you truly loved.
Slughorn tells me that Malfoy is excused from detentions until further notice, but that I shouldn't worry as he will be serving them at some point.
Right, like that is my biggest concern at the moment.
He has just lost his mother, I'm hardly about to berate him for skipping detention. I know I can be a cold-hearted bitch, but I do feel emotions, and in this moment feel nothing but pity and sadness for Malfoy.
Al lets me know that the funeral was on Saturday, he overheard one of his dorm mates talking to Zabini about it, which explains his and Nott's absence. From what he could hear, they wanted the funeral to be as soon as possible, to get it over and done with so they could process her death. It was a small affair, of about 15 people, Malfoy's family and closest friends.
It's times like these where the value of true friendship shines through; there are few other occasions in which you need as much support as this.
Which reminds me, Al never did tell me what him and Nott's fight was about. He just mumbled something about "Nott sticking his nose in where it's not needed". I'm still quite confused by it all, but I know Albus can take care of himself.
The air is chilly at the moment, cold and icy. October is slowly creeping in and the autumn leaves have begun to fall, gently tumbling down one by one, dancing in accompaniment to the sharp wind. The sun peeks its way through from time to say, briefly saying hello before burying itself under thick layers of grey cloud. Next week is the Gryffindor vs Slytherin match, the first one back of the year, and this weather is doing nothing to help our chances of winning.
The first practise back is a disaster, it's as if the weather wants Slytherin to win next week. We are first pelted with torrential rain, which then turns to hail, and then to thunder. Ah, what lovely British weather. We finally decide to call it quits when one of the goalposts is struck by lightning, the reminder of the ever present danger.
The overall mood at Hogwarts at the moment is low, everyone seems miserable and tired, with the reality of another hard year of academics ahead seeming to have settled in. James, Dominique and Fred have been nothing but foul in the last couple of days, I entered the common room "too loudly" the other day which caused an ink pot to be thrown at my head.
Everyone could do with something to lift the spirits, which is why the announcement of the annual Christmas Ball is so welcomed by all.
The Christmas Ball is something that began after the Battle of Hogwarts. For many, Christmas became an upsetting time after the Second Wizarding War. Many had lost family and loved ones, and lots of students opted to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas, due to having no family to return to. Either that or the little family they had left only symbolised everything that they had lost, reminders of loved ones who had passed.
And so, Mcgonagall decided to host a Christmas Ball, which happens in the second weekend of December, so people who leave for Christmas also have the chance to go. It is normally a very grand affair, but never without some sort of chaos. The punch is always spiked with Firewhiskey causing far too many people to get absolutely slaughtered and make knobs of themselves.
James and Fred always end up pulling some sort of prank. Last year they wanted to recreate Carrie, a muggle film in which Carrie is dumped in pigs blood at her prom, but decided against it after Aunt Ginny and Aunt Angelina discovered their plans. I felt partly to blame as I was the one who watched the film with them.
I normally go alone to the Ball, last year Alice and I decided to go dateless, which made no change as we have every year, but this year I have a feeling that I could potentially go with someone.
Anto, who asked me to Hogsmeade last week, has been acting very nervous whenever the topic is broached at the Gryffindor table. If he is going to ask me, it will just be something lowkey. We don't do the big prom proposals like they do in muggle films in America, and although it is slightly disappointing as I personally find them really creative, it's a relief for someone like me who hates being the centre of attention.
I still haven't worked out how I feel about him yet. For one, I know the sexual chemistry isn't there, which is personally one of the biggest parts in a relationship for me. Maybe it will be a slow-burner, and the sexual tension will slowly creep up on me over time, but I'm not optimistic.
Al will obviously be going with Eliza, and Evelyna with Lucas, who seem to be back on track thank god. James has asked Ciara, which was the biggest shock I received in a while, I didn't even know he fancied her, but now I think about it they are both quite well-suited. Quidditch mad and a bit nuts, yep, I think they'll do nicely.
—
When I walk into Monday's detention, completely expecting to be alone, I am taken aback when I see Malfoy already there, sat cross-legged and staring at me, as if awaiting my arrival. He looks as he usually does, pale porcelain skin, platinum blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, apart from the fact that he has dark shadows circling his eyes. He isn't sleeping well, that much is clear, and I don't blame him for one second, I would want to sleep and never wake up.
Every morning, when he wakes, I bet he forgets about it for a split-second. For a tiny moment, believes his mum will be there, waiting for him at breakfast, before reality comes crashing down and the true nightmare begins.
He tries to smirk at me, but it doesn't quite meet his eyes.
I'm not quite sure what to do. To be quite honest, since I found out the news about his mum, I forgot that we are supposed arch-enemies. If I say something, will it make it worse, or is it worse if I don't say anything at all and ignore it completely?
I decide that I am going to say something, it would be rude not to.
"Hey Malfoy", I start, "I'm really -"
"Don't, Red", he demands, cutting me off. "I'm back in detention because I wanted normality, and I'm not going to get that if you start chatting to me like we're best mates. I'm sick of everyone treating me as if I'm going to shatter in their hands".
I nod slowly, biting my lip, taking in what he has just said. His eyes flicker to my lips for a split-second, but then are back glaring at me in an instant. It was one of those moments where if you blinked you would've missed it.
He is, of course, perfectly justified in his reasonings. And I truly understand where he is coming from. Sometimes people constantly pitying you is again another reminder of what you've lost, treating you as if you're abnormal or about to burst into flames; walking on eggshells as if at any moment you're about to crack.
We work in silence for the rest of the evening. I don't dare steal any glances in his direction, as he is clearly lost in his own thoughts whilst he cleans the cauldrons.
The hours slip away quickly, the only noise present the sound of us scrubbing.
When 11pm rolls around, and Slughorn pokes his head round the door to tell us we can go, he is a welcome sight, I am absolutely shattered. I stand to leave, collecting my things, but as I make my way to the door I am stopped by Malfoy.
He prods me in the back, staring intently at me.
"Rose,", he starts.
I freeze, he has never called me by my first name before.
"My mother wrote you a letter, before she died. I don't know how and I don't know why, but she was insistent that I gave it to you. So here I am, honouring her wishes".
He stumbles over his words, clearly agitated and distressed. I would be too if my mother wrote my arch-enemy a letter on her death-bed.
I take the envelope from his grasp, smooth white parchment with loopy swirled handwriting reading 'Miss Rose Weasley'. I flip the letter over to the other side, only to find that there is no opening.
I cast Revelio, hoping the seal will become clear to me, but to no avail.
"You can't open it Red, believe me I've tried", Malfoy drawls, interrupting my thoughts, as if he has read my mind.
I am stood, flabbergasted, absolutely speechless. Why would Astoria Malfoy write me a letter? And more importantly why can't I read it? How am I supposed to open it? All these questions flit about my brain, but I have no answers for any of them.
Muttering a thanks to Malfoy, I break the stare and make my way out of the dungeons and up to Gryffindor tower. Malfoy stays behind, as if waiting for something, but finally follows me out 2 minutes later. I hear footsteps retreating behind me, and now knowing I'm in the clear, run as fast as my legs will carry me.
By the time I get back to Gryffindor tower, it is nearly 11:30. Bright moonlight slowly glints through the arched windows, and for the first time in a long time, it is a clear starry night.
I didn't mean to leave this chapter here, I meant to continue writing, but this just felt like the right place to stop and so I did! So I'm sorry for the shorter chapter today! Poor Malfoy, losing his Mum :( But what has she written to Rose, and why can't she read it?… For me in England, it is currently Thursday 20th May. If I have time today to write the next chapter, I will post another one later this evening, if not then the next one will be tomorrow (Friday 21st May). P.S: here is some British slang, I've seen from my stats breakdown that most of my readers are American, and thought I'd add this on as I don't know if this slang is obvious or not? Updates soon! Please follow this story if you're enjoying it :)
To get slaughtered/be slaughtered - get really drunk
Make a knob of yourself - make a fool of yourself/be an idiot/embarrass yourself
To be shattered - really tired