Hera meant it when she said that I would be nothing. It seems as if the entire Slytherin common room has forgotten that I even exist. The moment the words were spoken, the loyal Slytherin purists turned their heads and no longer saw even the shadow of me.
Unfortunately, that meant that Renata has slowly begun to ignore me as well. It started that next morning, when I excitedly whispered to her in the dorms that I had held George Weasley's hand. I watched as she swallowed slowly, the crease between her brows appeared, and how her eyes dropped from mine suddenly as she processed what I was admitting. That i did, indeed, have feelings for George. She spoke quickly, like she was trying to force her excitement to match mine, but as the rest of the weeks dragged by, Renata became less frequent in my life, until suddenly I could only count on Sebastian and Astra to speak to me at meals, in between classes, and in the common room.
It feels lonely, but I have also never known such peace.
"How's your paper coming along?" Sebastian asks as we head towards the library.
I mindlessly play with the mandrake leaf that still sits under my tongue. It took a few days to get used to its presence, but now I barely noticed. "Should be done this week," I sigh thinking about the long evenings George and I have spent in the library working through the rest of our report.
"Us too," Sebastian says with a grimace. "I'll be happy when it's over."
"It is a lot of work," I agree but Sebastian rolls his eyes at me.
"I can handle work," Sebastian says. "I can't handle working with Henrietta O'Shea. She's insufferable, Lenora."
"I can't imagine her being that bad," I say as he pulls open the library door for us, "The other Gryffindors seems to like her."
Sebastian stops suddenly and I run into his back causing my books to fall to the ground with a loud thud. Renata is walking through the library door with the other Slytherin girls from our year. When she realizes that it's us, she quickly drops her eyes, stepping over my books with a small jump.
The other girls, unfortunately, don't seem to hold this same regard and either step on my scattered papers or step right on the covers of my books.
"Watch where you're going," Sebastian hisses before dropping to the ground to help me collect my things.
"Did you hear something?" One of the girls says before turning to look directly at me, "Must be the wind."
"Or Moaning Myrtle. I thought I heard weeping in the dorms last night," another girl laughs as they turn away.
I feel a heated blush begin to burn my cheeks, but I hold my tongue. It is no use to try to fight, they would continue to dig their way under my skin. If they wanted me to be nothing I had no reason to try and prove them otherwise, but I can't help but glance up at Renata. Her figure is now the farthest from me, walking quickly away from not only me, but the other Slytherin girls.
I am somewhat relieved and even a little hopeful to see that Renata doesn't stop, doesn't look back, but she doesn't laugh either.
"How could she do that?" Sebastian grumbles once the girls leave. He quickly piles my books into my hands, his face twisted into a grimace.
"It's not her fault." I sigh, knowing that I put her in a difficult place. She is my best friend, but our families are always supposed to come first. "You know that it's not her fault."
"It's not your fault either." Sebastian reminds me as he helps me back on my feet.
I stay quiet, knowing that it was sometimes easier than arguing with Sebastian about the rights and wrongs of pureblood ideology. He has been ready to move out of his parents house since we were 13, he crossed the line in the sand, and never looked back. It was more difficult for others and I try not to hold that against Renata.
George, Fred, and Fern are waiting for me at our regular table by the window. Sebastian sighs and heads off the other direction, looking to find Henrietta somewhere on the second floor.
"What took you so long?" George asks as he nudges my chair out with his foot. He makes a face at my loose papers, some of them with shoe prints, as they clutter the table.
"Left some of my books in the common room," I tell him before plopping down in the chair, "Then I dropped them outside the library."
"Looks like someone also stampeded over them," Fred says with a quick glance up.
"Yes they had an unfortunate run-in with a couple of trolls," I agree and George smiles knowingly.
As we comb through my now out of order notes, I feel his hand brush mine knee softly under the table. A simple and kind way of letting me know that he was there with me. I let my own hand fall and grab his gently and we sit there for a few moments with our fingers intertwined, unseen by the rest of the world.
The transfiguration report seems to come together well, but our side work - trying to become an animagus ourselves have seem to hit a series of hiccups. We would need to place our leaves in a crystal tomorrow and while that wasn't that huge of an issue, collecting dew from an untouched source for 7 days was giving us a real challenge.
Fred and George have scoped out multiple places - the empty paddocks by Hagrid's, the small clover garden near the Shrieking Shack, but eventually decided that the quidditch pitch, before dawn would be the easiest option to collect untouched dew from. How they planned for the 3 of us to sneak down there daily for a week was beyond me and at times, even they seemed at a loss for words.
Once Fern had left the table for the evening, George pulls out his notebook with our personal notes for the spell for us to review.
"We have the phials," George says. "We found our dew source, we just need the chrysalis of a Death's-head Hawk Moth."
"Which we can only get from Professor Snape," Fred reminds us.
"And we still really haven't decided how we're going to get the dew daily. Sneaking out of the castle in the middle of the night is one thing - everyone's sleeping, but right before dawn?" I say with a small shake of my head.
"I know," George says to no one in particular, "but we knew this was going to be hard."
"It's almost impossible," I sigh before absentmindedly playing with my leaf once again.
"Do you want to give up?" George asks, with a quick glance towards me.
"No," I tell him. "I know that you two can get us out of the castle, but I just worry who else is going to be out. Sirius Black still hasn't been caught - the dementors are out and I know some of the teachers will be up."
"I feel confident in our abilities to sneak out of the castle." Fred finally says. "But I hear what you're saying. I know for a fact that Hagrid likes to try and take early morning walks with those blast ended skrewt."
"Hagrid's not going to walk to the quidditch pitch," George says. "And the dementors have left us alone. We'll be fine - it's just a week."
"I trust you." I tell him.
"Our real problem is how we're going to get the three chrysalid from Snape," George says with a frown.
"We can't exactly ask for it, " Fred agrees.
"Honestly, I think we just need to take it." I say uncomfortably. George and Fred look at me curiously, both their eyebrows high on their foreheads in surprise.
"Are you saying we steal?" Fred asks.
"Nora," George teases, "what would Perfect Prefect Percy say if he heard you?"
"Probably the same thing my sister would," I say with a tight smile, "that I'm such a disappointment."
George and Fred laugh. "I think you're right though," Fred finally says. "Snape is going to know immediately why we want it."
"Well then it's settled," George says with a nod of his head. "We'll start collecting the dew tomorrow morning and next time we're in potions we'll have to try and find a chrysalis."
"Then I'll see you two in the morning," Fred says, collecting his books with a wink towards me.
Once George and I are left alone in the library, he scoots his chair in closer to mine. In our spot by the window, we are secluded, as most students are returning to their common rooms. His hand finds mine under the table again and I stare out the window as he softly rubs the back of my hand with his thumb, but pays little attention to me as he finishes his reading for Charms.
With the quiet, I watch the Whomping Willow mindlessly. It's thick black branches sway slowly back and forth rhythmically. It keeps me in a trance, until suddenly the base of the tree catches my eye. A rather large and shaggy dog has suddenly appeared, dodging the branches of the tree with ease and trotting off towards the castle.
"Did you see that?" I ask and George looks up with his book.
"See what?"
"The dog," I say. I press my face closer to the glass to catch another glimpse of it.
"It was probably just Fang," George says as he returns to his book.
I frown and try to catch another glimpse. I know that it was not Fang, it couldn't be. The fur was too long, too shaggy, and I couldn't imagine Fang going anywhere near the Whomping Willow.
"Strange," I murmur but pull my eyes away to look at George, "I should get back to the common room."
"I'll walk you," George says standing to collect his books.
"It's alright," I say with small smile, pulling him down by his sleeve so he'll sit back down. "It's a little easier, the less they see us together."
"How is that anyways?" George asks before making a face, "Aside from the trolls from earlier."
"It's fine," I can hear that my voice isn't throughly convincing. "I like that Hera and Marcus leave me alone, but I miss do Renata."
"Is there anything that I can do?" He asks and I have a sudden urge to caress his face with care.
"No," I say with a weak smile. "Pureblood life isn't all it's made out to be."
"I am a pureblood," he reminds me, "but I can't say that I envy the elite among us."
"It's a lot work," I agree "to be perfect."
"You make it look easy." He grins before tucking a loose piece of hair behind my ear.
After a few moments of silence, George awkwardly asks "It's true then, isn't it? The betrothals?"
This catches me off guard and I stare at him curiously, noticing the small tinge of a blush coloring his cheeks.
"Y-yes," I stutter. "It's almost tradition for the oldest of magic families. Toujours pur."
"Which means?" He asks.
"Always pure," but suddenly the words sound wrong coming out of my mouth. "It's on my family's crest. It's almost all we stand for."
"I am a pureblood," he reiterates. "Just not the right kind, am I?"
This question also catches me off guard and I lick my lips nervously. "Blood traitors are as low as Muggle-borns. It's nothing that I'm proud of."
George is quiet for a moment, but smiles at me nonetheless. "I don't envy you," he says one final time and I sigh. Wondering how me might see me now.
"I'll see you in the morning?" I ask, holding my books right to my body to keep my heart from pounding out of my chest.
"I'll be waiting for you outside the common room before the sun rise." He tells me, taking my hand into his and hanging on.
"I can hardly wait. Hopefully the dew is fresh," I say giving his hand a tight squeeze.
He laughs, the warm smile returning to his face.
"Try to get some rest." He says, "We have an early day tomorrow."