A/N: Yay! More reviews! -Is very happy now.-
Disclaimer: Still not mine.
Last time:
"Friends, then?" Marissa said finally, breathing heavily but still smiling.
"Of course."
Chapter Four: A Dance?
"So, what happened?" said a voice from next to her.
Marissa jumped. She had forgotten about Ginny. "Oh, I just went to send an owl to … to my pen pal. Yeah, she lives in, erm, in America." She breathed a sigh of relief as Ginny believed her. It wasn't really wise to say she made friends with a Slytherin, especially as their houses were supposed to be rivals. "So, what did you do?"
--
Ginny's health, Marissa noticed, was getting worse. She would wake up later and later in the morning and there were always bags under her eyes, even though she would go to bed very early the day before. She wasn't the happy, lively girl Marissa met on the train anymore. She refused to talk to Marissa at all now, preferring to scribble day after day in that diary of hers. She often wondered what Ginny wrote in there, but whatever it was, it stayed a secret.
It was the day before Halloween when she finally lost it.
"Ginny!" she almost screamed at her, striding across the Gryffindor common room towards the lone figure sitting hunched up in an armchair. "What is wrong with you? You never talk to me anymore."
Ginny blinked as if not recognising her. Stammering a few incomprehensible syllables out, she stood and ran past Marissa without meeting her eye. "Damn," she muttered and sank into the comfy armchair that had been recently vacated.
--
Sliding into a seat at the noisy Gryffindor table, she noted that Ginny hadn't come down yet. I fact, she didn't even know where Ginny was. Probably writing in her precious diary, Marissa thought, scowling. It was the Halloween feast and huge pumpkin lanterns adorned the Hall, their bright orange colour all but distracting her from her worries. Taking a few bites, she managed to occupy herself with the delicious food for a while before becoming bored. Her eyes wandered around the Hall, lingering over the chatting groups of students. They caught a flash of blond hair on the other side, so she quickly turned her head in case he thought she was watching him. Of course, she wasn't. She was watching everyone. He shouldn't be so self-centred, really. Smiling to herself, she cleared her plate before standing up to leave. A few heads turned to look her way, but soon went back to normal as she walked down the aisle between the tables.
She entered the corridor, so different to the room she had just left. Her dormitory was to her left, but she went right anyway. What was the harm in exploring the castle? None that she could see, anyway. Climbing a staircase, she turned right, left and then right again. It was colder in this part of the castle. It was deserted, apart from the odd suit of armour or statue. Less cheerful now, she retraced her steps back to the staircase. The castle really was quite spooky at night. Maybe it was time for some reading in the comfort of her bed.
However, her relaxation was short-lived. Almost three hours later, Ginny burst through the door of the dormitory, jerking Marissa back into consciousness.
"Ginny? Why are you back so late? And where were you at the feast?" she mumbled.
Ginny didn't answer. Her face had a blank look to it and - were there feathers on her robes? Something red, almost like blood, had spilled down them as well, giving Ginny a sinister look. "Ginny? Are you alright?" she whispered as the red-head climbed into bed mechanically. No answer again. Something dull pounded in her chest as her eyes burned with unshed tears. "Ginny, answer me, please!" she pleaded, vision blurring, but still focused on the shock of orange hair that was Ginny. "Please …"
--
Christmas was almost here. The atmosphere was so full of joy that you couldn't help but smile all the time. People were happier in the mornings, and they greeted each other with more enthusiasm. Though she didn't know why, Marissa felt more at home at Hogwarts than she ever did at Blackthorn Manor. She supposed there were more people here, and they were more social too. Most times, her father would be on 'important business', and would be away from the manor almost a week at a time. The times when he was back, however, he would be shut up in his room unless it was to introduce Marissa to another would-be suitor. She never knew her mother. She probably did, once upon a time, but she couldn't remember. Her father said she died in an accident when she was three. Whenever she wanted to ask more, he would get angry and refuse to talk to her until the next day, when he would forget about it all. She sighed, her breath fogging up the window she was sitting next to. Sliding off the window ledge, she let her feet carry her to the Great Hall, where everyone else was, preparing to eat dinner. The twinge of hunger was gladly received, as she entered the Hall to the clatter of knives and forks.
Eating fast, she winced as bits of food from Fred and George's not-so-subtle food fight flicked onto her. She didn't speak. She wanted to get away from all the happy people. They reminded her too much of the life she never had. No loving family, no surprise birthdays, no jokes, no laughter. That was the worst. Blinking back moisture from her stinging eyes, she rose from the table ten minutes later, ignoring the cries for her to return.
She let the tears fall freely when she left the Hall, though she cursed herself for being so emotional. The cold, empty corridor was a welcome change from the festivities and cheer. Maybe, just maybe, she could stay here until it was time for her to go to bed. No one could disturb her here.
"What are you doing here?"
She spoke too soon, it seemed. She turned her head to look up at the newcomer. She was certain it was going to be some prefect, come to give her detention for whatever rule she was breaking by not being in dinner. But it was not to be. She growled as her eyes lay upon the very person she never wanted to see again, let alone talk to. "What do you want, Zabini?"
He smirked at her, something she was sure all Slytherins were taught to do on their first day. How else could they all be able to do exactly the same thing and look good at the same time?
Dear God. She did not just think that. No, Slytherins do not look good. They are horrific monsters generated for the sole purpose of torturing her to the brink of insanity and leaving her there. That's better.
"I was just wondering why you would be here, rather than the lovely, warm, friendly, Great Hall where you could have food?" he drawled. He was taunting her. She forced herself to arrange her features into a glare. He should be dead by rights now, anyway.
"I didn't feel like it," she bit out, training her anger on him. Die, pathetic mortal, die! "Why aren't you in there?"
"Didn't feel like it either," he said, lowering himself to sit next to her. "I guess we're just not made for festivities, huh?"
"Yeah …" They trailed off into silence, Marissa determinedly not looking at him, in case the urge to punch him became too much.
"So …" he said, turning his head too look at her profile. "What colour do you think our wedding should be?"
She jumped up, eyes blazing. "I'm not going to marry you, Zabini, so forget it!"
He followed her with his eyes, confused. "I'll never understand girls."
--
"It can't get much worse," Marissa groaned to herself as she reached to pick up the parchment on her bed. Unfolding it carefully, her eyes grew narrower as they travelled down the page. She let out a low growl as she flung it on the floor. Her robes billowed around her as she threw open her trunk and began throwing clothes and books into it. Muttering curses under her breath she picked up a rather large volume and threw it as hard as she could into her trunk. It bounced off the edge and lay open on the floor, yellowed pages spilling out of the binding. Swearing again, she stuffed the pages back in the book and dropped in her trunk. She closed the lid with a thud and sat on the floor with her head against the trunk. She reached for the letter and read it again, each word burning itself in her mind.
Marissa,
I would like you to join me for Christmas this year. I'm sure you would be delighted to know that Blaise will be coming too. I hope you two have acquainted yourselves nicely. Bring your dress robes, you'll need them. We are to have a ball, isn't that nice? I don't expect you to reply to this letter, as you last reply was … interesting, to say the least. Do not ever speak like that to me again. I shall see you at King's Cross.
Your father.
Sighing, she stood up again, and made for the door. The common room was packed as usual, but she didn't share their enthusiasm anymore. Why couldn't she have a normal family with a mother and grandparents that gave you cake and fawned over you? The corridor outside was quieter, and as the painting softly closed behind her, she set off towards the Slytherin common room. Or where she thought it was, anyway. Upon reaching the Entrance Hall, she took the stair down towards the dungeons, stepping quietly.
"Hey!" yelled a voice from behind her, making her jump. Once again, she found herself pushed up against a wall roughly, arms gripping her shoulders. "You're not a Slytherin. You a Gryffindor! Why are you down here?" The owner of the voice was a bulky fifth-year, about a head taller than her.
"I need to see Zabini," she managed to mutter, half terrified by the sheer size of the boy. "It's important."
He sneered at her. "And what makes you think you can just prance in there whenever you like, huh? Who gave you permission?"
She had just opened her mouth to say something, but another, smoother voice cut her off before she could utter a word. "I did, you idiot. Now let her go." The fifth-year gave her once last sneer and let go. She felt herself slip a few inches down the cold wall as he moved out of the way to reveal Draco standing there with a smirk on his face.
"Thanks," she said, running a hand through her hair. "Any chance I can speak to Zabini, or am I not good enough for the Slytherins?"
He laughed, but turned serious after a while. "You shouldn't come down here, it's dangerous. Some of the Slytherins aren't so nice to Gryffindors as that guy. He's tame compared to some of the haters."
"Ah, but you'll always be there to save me, won't you?" she teased, eyes twinkling mischievously.
"I'm not like Potter, you know." His face was deadly serious. "I'll get Zabini."
--
A/N: Ah yay! Another chapter finished! I think this one is longer than the other ones, but I'm not too sure, so you can decide that. Wasn't this depressing? I thought it was, when I read it over. Ah well, I was in a depressing mood, so nyah. I'm going to stop now C:
Cookies to the one who can spot the Fall Out Boy references. Clue: The title is a clue. Laters. -goes to get food-