Arista

"... and so your homework is... fifteen-inch essay... Wednesday... N.E.W.T. qualifications... imbeciles... not pass..."

Snape's irritating, monotone voice flowed in and out of my head, in one ear and out the other. Harry and Ron, to the right of me, stared at the intricate wizards' clock in the corner, dazed looks on their faces. In fact, after taking a look around, no one was paying any attention at all, except for Hermione. And she doesn't even count.

Slowly, without intention, my gaze wanders to the windows, high above us. Surprised, my eyebrows shoot up past my hair.

A petite, grey owl is fluttering against the window, a letter in its beak. Quickly, I pull out my wand and direct it at the lock. Alohomora, I say in my head, focusing, hard. Finally, there's that satisfying click; the owl drops the letter onto the floor and takes off, bobbling up and down in the wind.

Immediately, I summon the envelope to me and tear it open.

Ris

How are you? I'm doing pretty well. The Order is still having trouble recruiting people, but we're doing better. Right now, I'm spying on the Malfoys' place, we think they're using it as a base. Pleas don't write back, it's not secure. This particular owl is enchanted, only you can see it. Maybe we can chat on a Hogsmeade weekend?

Stay safe,

Carlin

So Carlin is spying on the Malfoys. My beloved dear cousin is spying on the Malfoys. How happy that makes me. How secure. How good it is knowing that someone cares about me enough to add something more to my pile of worry here. And he's telling me to stay safe? While he's running around spying on dangerously insane criminals? Yeah that makes sense. I can feel my fists shaking, I'm so angry. My fists never shake. Ever. Shit, I told him not to go. But he doesn't listen to me, does he? The moron's only nineteen, *dammit. Oh if he lives to see--

A slimy voice interrupts my mental raving.

"And so what is it, Miss Grace, that is even more interesting than our N.E.W.T. lecture, hmm?" Snape asks. Lots of things, I want to say. My fingernails, my sketchbook, the sky, the Quidditch field, my feet-- but I don't. The words I have trained myself to say over five-- going on six-- years catch in my throat.

"I'm sorry," I hiss. Quick as lightning, Snape's hand lashes out and plucks the letter from my hand. Terrified, I lunge at his arm and snatch it back, before he can read it. He stares into my eyes, greasy face placid. Keep your mind closed, don't think, I hear my mind recite frantically. Panicking, I look away.

"Well, if I can't read it, you can't either," he says maliciously. Already read it, sucker, I think to myself. Snape seems hear my mind. The letter bursts into flame between my fingers. Snape continues.

"As so it happens, I have read it. 'Dear love, how are you? I just can't wait to see you again. Our last meeting was enthralling. Sealed with a kiss, Arista Grace.'"

I just gape at him in horror, my face turning flushing humiliatingly. Everyone is laughing, except for the Gryffindors. Hermione has her hands clasped over here mouth, a look of sheer fury on her face as she glares at Snape. Lying little sniveling Snape.

"Since you have displayed such an incapability to pay the appropriate attention in class, you are now excused. Also, on the essay that I am sure you know nothing of, it's an automatic D. D for Dreadful. Or actually, let's make that a T. For Troll. Good day, Miss Grace, I'll see you Saturday and Sunday for detention, eleven a.m., sharp."

Glaring, I grab half of my books, knocking the rest off the table. Quickly, angrily, my feet stride towards the door. Suddenly, however, my foot catches on something and I go toppling. Hovering on the line of tears, I pick myself up and leave to the sound of howling Slytherins.

"That was horrible, how Snape was today," Hermione says lividly.

"Yeah, sorry about that Ris," Harry adds, putting an arm around my shoulders. "But Snape's just a severely deranged idiot anyway, right?"

I laugh. "Thanks guys, seriously. But it's okay, really."

And then Ron pipes up. "You don't seem okay though."

I tell them that I'm fine. No, really, I'm fine. Really. But knowing me for six years, 'I'm fine' just doesn't cut it anymore, I guess. So, grudgingly, I take out the letter and thrust it at Ron, who hands it to Hermione, who then gives to Harry, who gapes. Next, Hermione just has to go on and ask me if I'm worried. Well of course I'm worried, I tell her. And then, then, the tears come, fast.

Promptly, one-by-one, they all come and crouch by my side, their arms around me. It's weird of course, being surrounded by three silent sixteen-year-olds, but oddly comforting. Friends. That's what you'd call it.

Finally, "Th-th-thanks," I manage to choke out. Standing up, I quietly climb the stairs to the girls' dormitories and slip inside.

Just now, it occurs to me what I tripped on. It was-- a very expensive shoe.

Kannilia: There comes a time in everyone's lives to make another person joyful. This is yours-- write me a review!