Pt. 17
"Ok? No, it's not ok, you need to tell us now!" Hermoine switched glances from Cho to me and repeated this constantly. Her fists were clenched, as was her jaw. When her chocolate brown eyes stared into yours it felt like a shot of pain was being injected into your body. She meant business.
"I can't," Cho's legs folded beneath her and she sat playfully on the floor. "If I tell you, I'll be in trouble."
"By whom?" Hermoine took a seat by her. She treated her like she was four; brushing her hair, holding her hand and such. It was sad to see.
"If I say, Weewee will be angry," Cho spoke with her tongue half-sticking out. She looked at me with round eyes and smiled. Still keeping contact, she rummaged through her pocket and pulled out a black flower. She brought the flower up to her nose and smelled it. The flower looks oddly familiar but I don't remember where from.
"Cho, this is important, who is Weewee?" Hermoine lightly touched her hand, the one holding the flower and took it down to her lap.
"Oh, I can call her Weewee, she said it was ok," Cho cupped the flower with her other hand as she relaxed her shoulders. "She says a lot of things."
Hermoine looked over to me helplessly. She wanted me to step in. Her eyes always seem to speak for her.
I cautiously floated next to Cho, took her cold hands in mine, and developed eye contact. I felt as if I was looking inside her head. There wasn't much, a lot of pain and a few happy moments. It was a dark world she lived in, not much room for sunshine. Similar to mine.
"Cho, can you tell me who Weewee is?" I massaged her hands, trying to make her feel a sense of warmth and trust. That was the only way to get something out of someone, l learned this when I had a crush on Pansy and she wouldn't tell me something. I also learned this from my father, who made me the snitch many times in his operations.
"Ok Malfoy," she put our hands up to her cheek, "I'll tell you."
"Ok? No, it's not ok, you need to tell us now!" Hermoine switched glances from Cho to me and repeated this constantly. Her fists were clenched, as was her jaw. When her chocolate brown eyes stared into yours it felt like a shot of pain was being injected into your body. She meant business.
"I can't," Cho's legs folded beneath her and she sat playfully on the floor. "If I tell you, I'll be in trouble."
"By whom?" Hermoine took a seat by her. She treated her like she was four; brushing her hair, holding her hand and such. It was sad to see.
"If I say, Weewee will be angry," Cho spoke with her tongue half-sticking out. She looked at me with round eyes and smiled. Still keeping contact, she rummaged through her pocket and pulled out a black flower. She brought the flower up to her nose and smelled it. The flower looks oddly familiar but I don't remember where from.
"Cho, this is important, who is Weewee?" Hermoine lightly touched her hand, the one holding the flower and took it down to her lap.
"Oh, I can call her Weewee, she said it was ok," Cho cupped the flower with her other hand as she relaxed her shoulders. "She says a lot of things."
Hermoine looked over to me helplessly. She wanted me to step in. Her eyes always seem to speak for her.
I cautiously floated next to Cho, took her cold hands in mine, and developed eye contact. I felt as if I was looking inside her head. There wasn't much, a lot of pain and a few happy moments. It was a dark world she lived in, not much room for sunshine. Similar to mine.
"Cho, can you tell me who Weewee is?" I massaged her hands, trying to make her feel a sense of warmth and trust. That was the only way to get something out of someone, l learned this when I had a crush on Pansy and she wouldn't tell me something. I also learned this from my father, who made me the snitch many times in his operations.
"Ok Malfoy," she put our hands up to her cheek, "I'll tell you."
