Winter woke to the sound of a black bird singing outside of her window. The window had been left open all night, allowing a warm breeze to float into the room, catching the sheer curtains and making them dance in the wind.
It had been one week since the party at Malfoy Manor and she had spent far too long sitting in her room replaying the night over in her head.
This morning was no different. She stayed in bed with her eyes shut tightly, thinking back to that night, as she could hear her mother pottering around the house.
"Do tell me, what is your name?"
Lucius stayed in his place behind his desk, while Winter entered the large office room. She didn't know why he had asked her to join him, but she certainly couldn't say no.
Her heart was racing in her chest, and her breaths were short. She was afraid of Lucius Malfoy, and she wasn't sure why.
Perhaps it was his demeanour; he radiated superiority and was well known for being unkind and cruel. Or perhaps it was the way he was looking at her. He was smiling, but it felt intense.
"My name is Winter." She managed to say quietly, as Lucius kept his eyes on her.
"Winter?" He mused. "Do you have a surname?"
"Bradshaw."
Lucius leaned back in his chair, his smile widening.
"Winter Bradshaw, please take a seat."
Winter sat on the opposite side of the desk in a large black leather chair. Her posture was rigid, the chair felt uncomfortable. Winter felt uncomfortable.
"Your father and I attended Hogwarts together. Although he was a few years older, we were quite good friends." Lucius spoke. "It's such a shame. You must miss him?"
Winter shifted in her seat nervously, and tried to look at anything other than Lucius's eyes. The eye contact was making her feel like she couldn't breathe.
She also didn't know whether being honest in this moment was the best idea. She considered lying to fit the narrative Lucius wanted. But she didn't miss her father, and she didn't want the sympathy.
"I don't." She said simply, and Lucius raised his eyebrows. "I mean, I don't remember him. It's difficult to miss somebody you don't remember."
"Of course." Lucius leaned forward in his seat, reaching for a glass of brown liquid sitting on the desk.
He took a sip and placed it back down.
His eyes seemed to sparkle, and Winter felt her stomach knotting.
She thought to herself how lovely his eyes were, but quickly broke the eye contact when she realised how strange that thought had been. Was it normal to think your friend's father had nice eyes? Definitely not, Winter told herself.
"How are you finding your time at Hogwarts? Do you have plans for your future when you complete schooling?"
Lucius's question brought Winter back to reality, he sounded like a concerned father, trying to find studious friends for his son. She didn't blame him for seeking better friends for Draco; Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle (Draco's two closest friends) weren't the brightest young men. Some people would say they were dim-witted, but Winter thought that was a little harsh.
Though Winter wanted to make a good impression she wasn't sure what she wanted to do after completing school, and she was an awful liar, so again she spoke the truth.
"I enjoy Hogwarts, I'm getting top grades, and I like all of my teachers. Especially Professor Snape and Professor Trelawney. Though I'm not entirely sure what I would like to do after school, I'm afraid."
Lucius's eyebrows furrowed and he leaned in closer. "I'm sorry, did you say Professor Trelawney? You're studying divination?"
Most people in the wizarding world thought of divination with skepticism, and often didn't take the subject seriously.
Winter, however, had been interested in divination long before she attended Hogwarts, and her mother encouraged it, though Winter wasn't sure why.
Winter nodded, "yes, Mr Malfoy. That probably sounds silly, but I enjoy divination. I find it quite interesting, actually."
He smiled. "Not at all. Divination has it's advantages, provided the witch or wizard has a natural gift for prophecy."
"Oh," Winter said meekly. "I don't know about natural gifts, I'm just... just average, I suppose."
Lucius chuckled, and Winter's heart began racing in her chest again. Something about him seemed different than the image she had of him prior to this evening. He wasn't as awful as he had seemed, he was actually quite kind.
"Well I'm not so sure about average. Your grandmother, on your mother's side, was said to have the gift of foresight." Lucius mused, "though I didn't know her, myself, she was talked of quite highly by former Slytherins who remembered her from her time at Hogwarts."
Winter never knew anything about her grandparents. The only thing she was certain of was that they had died quite some time ago, and her mother refused to speak of them.
"I didn't know." Winter said sadly. "I don't know much about my family. My mother... I don't think she liked them."
Lucius chuckled again. "That doesn't come as a surprise to me, your mother is quite selective."
Winter opened her eyes, suddenly realising the black bird had left her window sill. The breeze continued to move through the curtains, but it was growing stronger and cooler. This prompted Winter to get out of bed and close the window.
As she was standing by her window she noticed her mother standing outside. She was just standing there, her arms crossed over her chest, as if she were waiting for something.
Winter often thought her mother was untrustworthy, and she felt like she had reason to believe her mother was up to something sinister in this instance, and she wasn't exactly sure why. It was a feeling of unease, her chest felt tight.
The wind grew stronger, scattering fallen leaves across the garden and slightly shaking Winter's bedroom window.
And then suddenly, a man appeared almost out of thin air, right in front of Lydia.
Winter narrowed her eyes in an attempt to get a better look at him. He was wearing a black suit and he had short brown hair. She couldn't make out the features on his face.
She watched on as her mother and the man spoke. They were standing close, as if they were well acquainted with one another.
Winter was certain she had never seen this man in her life, so she couldn't understand how her mother knew him.
Their conversation seemed deep and intense. The man used his arms as he spoke, obviously trying to emphasise a point. But even though his actions were exaggerated Winter couldn't quite hear what he was saying.
Finally Lydia walked away from him after several minutes of conversation, and the man remained in the garden.
The sound of the kitchen door slamming startled Winter, but she knew it was just her mother walking back into the house, so she stayed by the window, watching the man.
She heard the kitchen door open again, and a moment later noticed her mother approaching him again. But the man turned his attention elsewhere, his eyes seemed to raise toward the house, and Winter felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as he made eye contact with her.
It felt like she had just done something very wrong, her heart was racing in her chest, and she wanted to hide.
She stammered away from the window, and retreated to her bed. Pulling the covers over her head and closing her eyes tight.
Winter didn't know why she felt so frightened, or why it felt like a dark cloud had just enveloped her entire home; but something about the man, the way her mother was standing in the garden waiting for him, it irked her.
Winter's eyes slowly opened as she heard the sound of the black bird chirping by her window again, and she realised she had fallen back to sleep.
She felt groggy and heavy, like she had been asleep for too long, and her head was aching.
Winter usually hated sleeping in. She was an early morning kind of person, and didn't like staying awake late at night. She attributed this to her fear of being in the dark, and the way the night made her feel anxious.
Winter was about to get out of her bed when a knock came from her door.
Lydia entered the room without waiting for permission.
"Good morning, or should I say good afternoon?" She spoke, standing in front of Winter with no expression on her face.
Winter was unsure whether her mother was making a joke or annoyed that she had slept in so late, so she just laughed uncomfortably.
"You had an owl this morning. It's a letter from the Malfoys. I've been waiting for you to get out of bed to read it, but I can't wait any longer, and if you don't read it now, I will have to read it myself."
Excitement ran through Winter at the thought of Lucius writing her a letter, but she felt silly as soon as that thought ran through her head, because the letter was most probably from Draco.
She also wasn't sure why she had been excited at the thought of Lucius writing to her, and suddenly she felt odd.
Her face started burning red and her stomach turned as these thoughts were racing through her mind.
"Sorry, Mum." Winter said simply, composing herself, and held her hand out to receive the letter.
Lydia passed it to her, but seemed to hesitate. "Read it out loud." She said.
Winter rolled her eyes, opening the letter.
"Dear Winter,
It was a delight to speak with you last week."
Winter paused as she was reading, her heart skipping pathetically in her chest. Lucius did write to her.
"Well?" Lydia demanded, impatiently.
Winter cleared her throat, feeling like her hands had began trembling.
"I hope your time at Malfoy Manor was pleasant. I am writing to invite you to our home tomorrow evening, as I would enjoy speaking with you again. Draco and my wife, Narcissa, are also looking forward to your company. Please confirm you are able to attend dinner at Malfoy Manor, tomorrow evening, at six o'clock. Sincerely, Lucius Malfoy."
Lydia snatched the letter as the last word left Winter's mouth and investigated it for herself.
Winter was slightly shocked at the invitation because she certainly hadn't expected it. The Malfoy family were hard to get along with for most people, they were very reserved and thought of themselves as superior amongst the rest of the wizarding world. But she was most shocked that the letter had been written by Lucius, this meant he had been thinking of her. Winter wasn't sure why that made her feel giddy.
"Well," Lydia began, with the largest smile Winter had ever seen on her mother's face, "write a response right this moment. You are most definitely going, of course."
Winter hadn't had time to process whether she wanted to attend. While she did like the idea of hanging out with Draco again, the thought of a dinner with the family was daunting to say the least.
Winter imagined how small she would feel at their large dining table, as Lucius looked down at her with his intense stare. Though for some reason, she wanted to see him again, and she wasn't sure why.
"Come on!" Lydia yelled now, "stop day dreaming. Get writing."
Half an hour later Winter had written a response, and she was still sitting at her dressing table going over the words to ensure she hadn't made any errors. Winter was a bit of a perfectionist, but she knew her mother would be proof reading this particular piece of mail, so she took extra effort to make sure it had been written just right.
She sighed as she finished reading the letter back to herself once more, before folding it neatly and placing it in an envelope. Her stomach seemed to feel uneasy, but she figured it was just because she was nervous about being invited to dinner.
After setting the letter aside she removed her reading glasses, and turned her attention to the cup of tea beside her. It was now cold, and she had barely taken a sip because she was so focussed on the letter. The idea of using a charm to warm the tea entered her mind, but Winter had never broken the rules in her life, and the thought of getting into trouble for using magic outside of school terrified her. She could imagine the look on Professor Snape's face, and that alone was enough to sway her from making bad choices.
A cold breeze flooded into the room suddenly, making the hairs on a Winter's arms stand up. She could see the weather was beginning to change outside, so she got up and closed the window.
For a moment she stood there, watching the leaves on the ground get caught in the wind, and she began to feel strange.
She had sworn she already closed the window earlier, and now she was standing there, feeling as if she had fallen into an intense moment of déjà vu.
She thought of her mother meeting the man in the yard, the way he looked at her, and how frightened she had felt.
Was it a dream? She wondered.
Perhaps.
But it felt so real.