Charlotte debated on hiding behind the wall for another moment until she realized she had been caught. Hestia already had her wand out, although it was strewn across her chest, she still had the advantage if push came to shove. Charlotte stuck her hand in her right pocket, wrapping her fingers tightly around her wand without pulling it out, before she stepped from behind the wall. “I really don’t want any trouble Hestia, truly…” she paused for a moment, considering how she would word everything. “It isn’t as though we’re completely on opposite sides anymore. If your going to hex me, go ahead and get it over with but just know that I miss her too.”
Hestia rolled her eyes “we are on completely different sides, she’s where she is because she wanted to dabble with blood traitors” she hissed taking a step forward “so you have no right to talk about my sister.” Her words were dark and ominous as she stalked forward “and I promise if she dies because of you…I will not hesitate to hunt you down and have you suffer the same fate” her brows furrowed as she shoved her wand back into her cloak.
Since school had begun, Charlotte had made it a point to keep to herself. Last year, all making friends had done was get her into trouble, and keeping her old ones wasn’t the route to go since Flora had been her only friend, and now she was missing. After studying for hours in the Slytherin common room, she figured it was best to take a walk. Her commons wasn’t exactly the friendliest place to be at the moment for a so-called ‘blood traitor’. She took a sigh of relief as she stepped out of the eerie and dim lit commons into the stuffy dungeons. It was just relieving to be alone. Wandering up stairs and through various hallways, she found herself near the passageway to the kitchens. Not many students knew how to access them, but thanks to a friendly house elf in year 3, Charlotte did. She sauntered into the kitchens and sweet talked an elf into giving her a few pumpkin pasties. She left with her thanks and had just exited the door when she realized it was not past curfew. Not wanting to be caught by Filch, she rushed down the hall, but stopped at the next corridor when she heard footsteps. Hestitantly, she looked around the corner and saw someone she recognized.
Hestia made her way through the halls halfheartedly she didn’t want to do anything anymore knowing that her sister was being held captive by Voldemort. Her eyes narrowed as she continued walking down the dark empty corridor with her wand gripped tightly in her hand. Even though she wasn’t herself that just made her 10 times more deadlier. She was heading to the Room of Hidden Things when she heard movement just around the corner. “Fucking Prefects” she hissed under her breath aiming her wand straight ahead. Hestia continued forward wit her wand at the ready expecting anything and everything. She seen someone peak from around the corner recognizing instantly who it was “get out here…” she said blatantly crossing her arms tightly over her chest.
With a sheepish look on her face, Daphne grabbed Hestia’s hand and stood, almost surprised that she hadn’t been cursed on the spot. Her eyes flickered around before settling on the thin girl in front of her, and she sighed internally.
“Er, thanks. It’s…nice to see you?” She added, unsure of how to make conversation with such a girl. Last year, she had caused hell for Daphne, and she was pretty sure she still had a few scars her her…”initiation.” She didn’t smile, but kept her face calm as to not upset Hestia; that was often the last thing anyone did. She honestly didn’t know what she was going to do at this point, here she was standing in front of the last person she wanted to see.
Hestia rolled her eyes dropping the girls hand as she stood “you don’t have to ask, I already know you’re not being sincere…” she huffed straightening her robes. Bending down she picked up her bag and books shifting them over her shoulder before turning on her heels back down the hall. “Are you coming or are you going to stand there for the rest of the day like a completely daft fool?” she groaned walking forward, giving the death glare to a few students who dared to cross her path.
The summer had taken far too long for Daphne Greengrass. To put it simply, she was happier than she felt she should be to be back at the castle, nervous aches making their way through her stomach and chest. In the months that she had been gone from school, her hair had grown long and straight, and her already lean form had grown tighter around the shoulderblades and wrists; she looked tired. On the train, she had kept to herself, distancing herself from the other Slytherins and “junior” Death Eaters as well as any friends she might have retained from the previous grading period, opting to sit by herself and curl up with a book of Transfigurations that she had read at least ten times. The familiar spells made the long ride easier, despite the nausea that came from being placed into public again. Her father’s mansion was at least quiet enough when he wasn’t acting a fool, though he was best at that, and the mere thought of him made her curl tighter into her sitting position, groaning internally. This summer had been hard for her family.
Currently, she was walking quietly towards the Great Hall, watching as students swarmed around each other, greeting and screeching and laughing and waving wands, as if they had been apart lifetimes rather than a few long weeks. It made her smile, but she still felt wary, and her eyes flickered round and round as she took her steps, on the lookout for a very specific figure: Hestia. She didn’t want to see that dangerous, rather insane bitch just yet, though she knew the day would come, simply because she had been recruited to save her father’s life last year. The things she did to survive were horrid, truly as awful as the people on the opposite side made them to be, but they didn’t have to do them. Daphne worked for herself as much as possible, but she wasn’t out to harm others for the sake of it. That was sport, and it was against the Greengrass code to participate in sport; at least, the sport of bodily harm. Manipulation, however, was key to winning the game, though not in the case of Hestia Carrow. That was a major problem. What, exactly, was one to do when there was a crazy, heavily powered lunatic running rampant throughout the school?
So deep in her musings, her eyes had drifted towards the floor, the stones far more comforting than the faces of people she could possibly have to hurt to get ahead. Pawns in this game were many and rather ordinary, and it was nearly sickening to think about how sick this game was truly becoming. Voldemort was back, and no one, not even students, were safe. In a shift of motion, Daphne felt her steps stop suddenly, and the air rushed out of her lungs - she had run right into someone! Falling backwards, she squinched her eyes shut tights, hoping that whoever it was wasn’t an undesirable person. She didn’t care if she hit the ground, she just didn’t want any conflict so soon. “I-I apologize.” She said quietly as she pitched towards the stones, her arms automatically reaching out to break her fall.
Hestia made her way through the halls watching carefully as each student parted the way for her like she was the black plague, just how she liked it. Plus the students shouldn’t be so afraid of her not this year. There was another who would be the direct line of danger and she couldn’t wait to aid him on his way to greatness. Continuing forward Hestia paid little attention to the path in front of her mainly because she was to preoccupied with other things, more important things. Within the next few seconds she felt herself falling backwards towards the ground.
“What the fuck!” she yelled as her ass collided with the cold stone floor “who in this dull heap of a school would hit…” Hestia’s eyes fought to find the girl who sat a few inches in front of her, with her eyes slammed shut. “Greengrass! Greengrass?! Get up…” she huffed annoyingly, standing from the ground she held her hand out to the girl in front of her. “Go on and take it! I’m not going to stand here all fucking day…” she growled raising a brow.
Pansy felt her face contort with anger and fear and hurt. She could feel her heart racing as the thought of Harry with Ginny ran through her mind. It couldn’t be possible. It just couldn’t be. She sighed and leaned back in her chair, trying to seem as casual as possible.
“I told you I would get him to accept your help. Please…. please tell me what you heard.” She pleaded, desperate. She was two seconds away from jumping up and going to find out for herself.
“Yes, you keep telling me things but you’re not doing them! Are you Parkinson?” she nearly yelled slamming her hand against the arm of the chair standing up from her chair she rushed towards Parkinson enslaving her in a nearby corner. “Do you want to know what Potter has been doing?” Hestia leaned in whispering harshly into Parkinson’s ear “he’s been snogging the little weasel without anyone’s knowledge” grabbing a handful of the girls hair she carefully pulled her closer, Parkinson’s breath mingling with her own “you should be getting mad at the mudblood she was the one who set it up…” Hestia hissed shoving Parkinson out of her way then retreating back to her seat comfortably crossing one leg over the other.
Pansy bit down on her bottom lip, trying hard to convince herself that Hestia was only messing with her, but she couldn’t deny that the thought alone felt like a million daggers in her heart. She squirmed slightly in her seat and leaned forward.
“What did… what did you hear?” She needed details, just in case Hestia WAS telling the truth.
“Now, Parkinson. Why should I tell you anything when you can’t do a simple job like getting Malfoy to accept my help…” she sneered flicking her wand instantly setting the paper bird on fire, watching as it feel to the ground slowly burning up.
Pansy sucked in a breath and sat up straighter. What? Ginny Weasley? The girl that tried to break the two of them up last year? No… That wasn’t possible. Hestia was trying to mess with her. That’s all this was.
“W-where did you hear that?” Her voice was cracked and breathy.
“Well Parkinson you forget I have spies all over the castle” she smirked casting a paper bird to sprout from the tip of her wand. She began guiding it around the room watching it carefully as it hovered in the air, spinning in circles. A cold smile returned to her lips “even in places you’d never guess…” she whispered the last part before returning her attention to the bird.
Pansy flinched slightly. She knew Harry didn’t love her anymore. He couldn’t, not after what she did to him. But hearing her speak the truth out loud still stung. She let out a loud sigh.
“I know he doesn’t love me anymore…”
“Yeah, he’s into red hair now days” she snickered yet again “the little blood traitor what’s her name?” Hestia questioned pulling her wand from the side of her heel drawing invisible lines in the air.
Pansy looked at Hestia with disgust written all over her face. How could someone have such an unpleasant outlook on the world? How could someone be so naturally…. evil? She shook her head, almost feeling sorry for the girl in front of her, not that she would ever express it.
“I think you’re wrong.” She spoke quietly, still afraid of Hestia, and not wanting to anger her further. “My feelings are what make me who I am. They don’t distort it.” She sighed, thinking about how much she had changed in the past year, and how much she was glad for the change. “And being in love with Potter has nothing to do with it…”
Hestia continued to ignore her, flailing her arms around mockingly as the girl spoke about her feelings. Although, she couldn’t help but laugh because Parkinson thought her love for Potter didn’t cloud her better judgement. “Well get over that and quick because Potter isn’t in love with you or so I’ve heard…” she snickered leaning forward in the chair watching the lake closer for a sign that will be coming soon.
Pansy pursed her lips. She hated how easy she was to read, she was never good at masking her emotions. She sighed and leaned forward slightly. What she really wanted to ask Hestia was what Dracos ‘mission’ really was. But if he didn’t want her to know, she wouldn’t go behind his back.
“I’m just scared.” She admitted reluctantly. “I’m scared for Draco.” She took a deep breath. “And for…. Potter.” She added softly.
Hestia rolled her eyes finally turning around to face Parkinson irritation now painted her face, which resembled Draco’s ill pale-like skin, sickened with grief and terror. “You need to get rid of all these feelings Parkinson, it’s distorting your vision, it’s messing up everything you are!” she scolded slamming her fist against the arm of the chair. “Also, do yourself a favor and get over Potter because obviously he’s gotten over you…” she hissed before facing forward once again her eyes returning to the dark lake.