One

She knew people called her a desperate bitch behind her back. Well, they might have not used such vulgar language, but it was practically synonymous with what the rejection letters meant. This time, Lorelei could already hear the apology before she even signed the letter off. Yet, she still wrote it.

The last letter, she promises herself.

Sincerely, Lorelei Greengrass is scrawled at the bottom of the page and the girl leaves the ink no time to dry. She's racing to breakfast and she stuffs all evidence into her dress' pocket, not realising the black liquid that licks the tips of her fingers like frostbite. They'd stain the tablecloth and paint the silver cutlery black, but messy hands weren't one of the reasons why Leland and Vivian Greengrass were so worried about their daughter.

From the head of the table, Leland produces a massive sigh. "Lorelei, you must cease this immediately," he says. Lorelei peeks up at her father, a mask of innocence plastered on her face in the form of furrowed eyebrows. This time, Leland does not fall for it. From somewhere past Lorelei's sight, he heaves a stack of letters onto the dining table, tied together with thin rope. Lorelei grimaces when their weight cause the plates to clink. "This is embarrassing," is all he can say. The letters speak for themselves, more words than they'd ever need in a single lifetime.

Vivian clears away her plates in front of her and takes the batch of letters. Slowly, almost taunting, she unties them and they collapse, like a house of cards, into a mass of something reminding Lorelei of how she will never be accepted.

"Lorelei, I thought you stopped applying for… internships at these, well, establishments," Vivian claims, her voice laced with the poison of disapproval. Internships, more like cashier staff, more like cleaning lady. Establishments, more like dingy, capitalism-addicted shops, far from respectable. Her mother was wrong, Lorelei never stopped. Besides, she didn't like listening to people telling her what to do. Heck, she was writing a letter on the way to breakfast, for Merlin's sake! Lorelei kept trying, and she tried more when other people expected her to quit. Vivian picks up the letters and calls their addresses, most of them from Diagon Alley. "The Apothecary… Flourish and Blotts… Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions… the Magical Menagerie… Potage's Cauldron Shop… Noltie's Botanical Novelties— my dear?" Vivian's eyes reread the name a dozen times over. She looks at Lorelei as if she had said Voldemort's name out loud. "Borgin and Burkes?"

Lorelei winces, she averts her eyes. "I was getting desperate."

It was true. By then, all the other places Lorelei had contacted for some sort of job had rejected her, again. She had been sending letters for months and she wouldn't have been surprised if she had used Britain's entire envelope supply. She had no qualifications, she didn't attend Hogwarts and all that she could promise was the legitimacy of her last name.

"Well done, darling," Leland says, his voice stiff from beside her. He goes to stand and his chair screeches against the floor. "Now the whole of Diagon Alley knows who you are—,"

"And is it really so bad that they do?"

Leland slams a fist against the table and his glass falls. Orange juice bleeds into the fabric. Lorelei jumps in her seat. Her father was never known for outbursts. "People will not treat you like you're the Chosen One if that is what you desire!" He shouts. Lorelei clenches her jaw. But, at least they'll know I exist, one way or another.

"Leland," Vivian says curtly. She places a gentle hand on her husband's arm. "My love, calm down,"

He yanks his arm away and points an accusatory finger in his daughter's face. "You act as if you have nothing to lose — as if you do not bare my last name," Leland seethes. Lorelei can't respond. Her lips feel as if they've been glued shut and she's slowly trying to peel them apart. "Keep this up and people will think you are a stray dog, taking refuge on their doorsteps, hoping they are just kind enough to open their arms to you! Merlin's beard, what has that tutor been teaching you—?"

"Leland!"

"Don't blame Mr Hawthorn!" Lorelei cries, setting her piece of toast down sternly. Her lips have come undone and she is ready to defend. "Mr Hawthorn taught me everything I would have learnt at Hogwarts and more! But, this desperation I have, this stubbornness, the urge I have to become something more than what I am, I got from you," When Leland doesn't respond, Lorelei sighs, taking her time on the exhale. She was the only Squib that cursed her family tree. She was the girl that disrupted the Greengrass' pureblood perfection. Not that it mattered to them anyways; the problem was that it mattered to other people, other purebloods. Lorelei looks between her parents. "Mum, Dad, I am an embarrassment to this family and I know that. I know it. I know it without you having to tell me anything, so please, let me… do this— let me worry about the letters and the rejections— let me try to turn my life into something I can be proud of. I'm sick of doing nothing all the time— breathing without actually living—!"

"Lorelei, you're not an embarrassment," Leland says carefully, his chest aches as if someone has just crushed his heart. Lorelei hears his words, but she doesn't process them, they're hollow syllables, vowels with no meaning.

There is silence until Vivian picks up an envelope from the pile.

"Lorelei… you wrote to Hogwarts?" She whispers across the table as she holds the envelope between her fingers. Lorelei stares into her mother's eyes, did she not hear a single word she just said? Lorelei can't answer. The brown sliver of parchment plagues her and if it had a voice, it would be laughing in her face. "My love, you are not eleven anymore. You are sixteen, far too old to be wishing for a wand and the Sorting Hat,"

Lorelei sinks back into her chair and looks down at her ink-laced fingertips. She can feel her parents' eyes burn into her skull, they want to dissect her thoughts. She wishes her sisters were home, and that the Hogwarts Express could travel a little faster than usual. "That was nothing," She is a corpse and she drones on, producing another one of her excuses. "I was only writing to ask about Herbology and Potions — Mr Hawthorn said it was fine."

She can hear her father's sigh, another rejection, another display of disappointment to add to the pile.

"I better get going, I don't want to miss my portkey," he states, checking his wristwatch. He takes one last look at Lorelei's moping figure before shaking his head. Leland turns to face his wife who stands up to fix his suit and robes. "I'll be back in a few weeks, my love. You're still taking the kids to the Manor for the holidays, I presume?"

Lorelei's ears perk up.

Vivian sighs into her husband's chest. "How can I not?" She whispers, an air of longing in her voice. "You know I can't turn down an old friend, especially when she needs my support."

She couldn't believe it.

It had been nearly five years since Lorelei had visited the Manor herself. It didn't make sense why her mother was going now, with her sisters nonetheless, when she could have gone anytime before, or—

Leland raises his eyebrows and something mischievous flickers behind his eyes. "Do you think she'd be sad to find out she's been reduced to the title of 'old friend'?" Vivian says nothing, instead opting to lightly punch Leland's stomach which causes him to chuckle. Her eyes slowly travel to Lorelei, who still has her head down despite having all her attention on her parents' conversation.

"Take care of yourself out there, darling," Vivian sighs, folding her arms.

Leland nods a farewell and moves to Lorelei who remains still as a statue when her father kisses the top of her head. If only she didn't have his stubbornness and she might have pulled him into a hug. He goes to whisper something in her ear.

"Give 'em hell."

Lorelei looks up to stare at him and he only smiles before striding out of the room with the two women watching his every step.

Lorelei doesn't take her eyes away from the door when she asks a question she could have never imagined herself saying out loud. "Mum, are you going to, ah…" she doesn't want to say it, but, what the fuck? "Are you going to Malfoy Manor with Daphne and Astoria?"

After a while, Vivian responds. "We are," Her voice is light, but it still finds a way to be conclusive, hard, like a dead end.

"Why? Also, why didn't you tell me earlier? It would have been nice to have some time to mentally prepare myself for the entire holidays alone," Lorelei turns around to face her. Her voice is soft, there is still respect — she's talking to her mother. She can't read the expression on Vivian's face. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Vivian searches her daughter's eyes for an explanation only she can give. She chooses not to tell Lorelei the real reason behind their visit, which was between her and Narcissa. "I knew that, if I had told you earlier, you wouldn't have agreed to come,"

"Wait, hold up. You want— you want me to come with you?"

"Yes, you're coming to Malfoy Manor with us," Vivian waits for Lorelei to say something else, but she's frozen in shock. Her eyes are wide and she's forgotten how to be human. "Me, Daphne, Astoria and you, Lorelei," Vivian states, there it is again, her light voice with such a final tone.

"You're… joking, right?" Lorelei tries, the ghost of a smile on the edge of her lips. Vivian stays silent this time and Lorelei's hands and consumed with that hot and clammy feeling she usually gets when she knows she's about to lose her grip on the tree. Memories of her begging her parents to visit Draco at the Manor flash across her mind, for a second, it's all she could have ever wanted. More than a job at the Apothecary or Noltie's Botanical Novelties, more than her dream of working in St. Mungo's, more than her desire to wield a wand, become magical. But she wasn't eleven anymore. "Mum, I'm not—,"

"—going with you. Lorelei, I know what you're going to say, I know what you're thinking, but this is not debatable. You are coming with us and that is final,"

"I can't," Lorelei whispers. Well, she could, but denying it was more dramatic. "I can't… please, just let me stay here?"

"Why, Lorelei? Why not?" Vivian walks towards her daughter slowly, almost as if any sudden movement would have scared her away. "Tell me, why can't you come with us to Malfoy Manor?" Vivian waits for an answer and Lorelei can only stare. She doesn't speak because she doesn't need to, her eyes say all the words her mouth cannot come close to uttering and her heart breaks all over again. Well, it doesn't break, but it fractures ever so slightly. "Come on, Lorelei… Daphne and Astoria will be with you, this is nothing to stress about. I'm the one dealing with the Malfoys. You don't need to be scared, besides, you'll likely be spending most of the days in the forest,"

"I'm not scared—," Lorelei retorts. When Vivian mentions the forest, the cogs in her brain stop.

The forest.

That's right, she could spend her time in the forest. There were materials there, plants and herbs which existed in their purest form. Lorelei had already foraged around the Greengrass' house and she needed new territory to cover — new vegetation. She'd come home with fresh supplies and Mr Hawthorn would be so proud of her; they'd be able to make so many new potions, hundreds of more experiments. Lorelei jumps out of her chair, causing Vivian to double back.

"I'll pack my bags!"

Vivian doesn't bother questioning her and allows the relief from her daughter's compliance to bathe her soul. She watches Lorelei rush towards the door, "Don't take too long, remember, we're going to pick your sisters up soon!"

Lorelei doesn't answer as she strides towards her room. Her mind was elsewhere, focused on flashes of a memory from a day that seems so far away. Back to the times which mark the beginning of all her confusion and rage.

As Lorelei watches the first snowfall, she wonders if the heat of her anger could change winter into summer. It was the first Christmas she didn't spend with the Malfoys and she hated to admit that she missed him, Draco. Did he feel the same? He had to, he couldn't have forgotten all about her so soon. It had only been four months since he left for Hogwarts.

Lorelei makes her way towards the living room, her small body shivering from both the cold and the protest that would soon erupt from her. She shoves the doors open and releases a ragged breath in preparation. Her parents watch her, expectant but not surprised.

Leland turns away and gets up from his armchair. He steps towards the fireplace, tossing a piece of parchment into its starving flames. Lorelei ignores the act.

"What's wrong, my love?" Vivian asks, her voice so gentle it sounds more like a whisper. She moves to make space on the sofa she sits on, but Lorelei does not take her up on the invitation. Leland remains quiet and watches as Lorelei eyes the fireplace behind him. By now, the parchment has been reduced to flakes of ash.

"Are we not going to visit the Malfoys?" Lorelei asks, the question comes out strained. She tries her best not to show the displeasure in her voice, the consuming urge she has to be with her friend. The silence of her home is making her crazy. "We're always with them for Christmas," Lorelei claims as if it would somehow apparate them to the Manor.

Vivian sighs. "Lorelei, we talked about this—,"

"Mum, please," Lorelei begs slowly, on the verge of tears.

"Lorelei," This time Leland speaks and Lorelei stops breathing. She has hope for her father, for his kind voice, his understanding. He would understand. "You… you will no longer be visiting the Malfoys,"

Infinity exists between the seconds it takes Lorelei to process his sentence.

"… What?" Lorelei's voice gets trapped in her throat. She doesn't understand. She was Draco's friend, his best friend. Maybe Lucius didn't like her that much but her presence never bothered him, and Narcissa— Narcissa showed her kindness, in her fragility, she had heart. Their parents were friends for Merlin's sake! Lorelei was never a nuisance, no, she never did anything that would hurt any of them—

If you weren't a Squib, if you were normal, like everyone else—

Lorelei shakes her head and her hands grip the sides of her dress. Winter has never felt as hot as hell. When Lorelei opens her eyes, the world is drowning in the ocean of her tears and her mother is kneeling in front of her. "Oh Lorrie," she whispers and Lorelei collapses into her arms. "It's alright, my love,"

"Mum, please," Lorelei whispers, her voice so quiet she could have mouthed it instead. "Please… can I see him? Daphne and Astoria are at Hogwarts, I don't have anyone to talk to, and… and I— I don't want to be alone… I've been writing letters and he hasn't answered any of them and he promised he'd write from Hogwarts and—,"

"Lorelei," Leland speaks from above them. He goes to pick Lorelei up and she's heaved into the air, cradled in his arms. Lorelei burrows her face into her father's shoulder. "This is beyond our control,"

"What do you mean? Why? Why can't I visit him? Dad, he's… he's my friend,"

"Yes… he was your friend. But, things change— people change, you'll understand soon enough. The world is cruel to people like—"

"And if I don't want to understand?" Lorelei asks, pushing away to stare at him. Her glasses are lopsided, and he is half blurred, half man, half void. "Draco won't change, I know he won't. He— we promised—,"

"Promises can be broken,"

"No," Lorelei shakes her head. Her words catch in her throat and she can feel the tears trace paths down her cheeks. "Not our promises,"

Yes.

Yes, their promises.