❝ 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨. ❞
The girl with the silver-blonde hair lived up to her family name Malfoy. Camille Malfoy was proud, well brought up and for...
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„How strange to dream of you even when I am wide awake."
Camille was in a bad mood as she walked behind Lorraine and Alaric along the paths of the estates. There was probably no other explanation for her scrunched-up face and her petulant steps, otherwise so light as a feather as she walked across the ground.
It was early in the morning, too early even for her taste. Because she didn't want to waste a Sunday, even before the small hand of a clock had reached eight, going to the Quidditch pitch tired and shivering miserably. The freezing temperatures that November had brought froze her fine face and cast a telltale blush on her pale cheeks.
The morning hoarfrost crunched softly under her sturdy boots of genuine dragon leather as they walked down the icy and slippery path. An icy gust of wind caught them with tremendous force and she hurriedly adjusted her white fluffy earmuffs, which it had almost carried away. In the process, Camille's warming jar almost slipped from her gloved hand.
It had been Alaric's idea to turn it into a source of warmth with the help of harmless blue flames and indeed it served its purpose and was probably one of the reasons that kept her from fleeing back to her warm down bed.
"Now don't pull that face, Camille," Lorraine called to her over her shoulder, pulling her lower lip forward in a huff. Though the two blondes still hadn't spoken, it seemed their argument had faded into the background for the moment as they acted as if nothing had ever happened. Camille sighed, that was how it usually went in pureblood families. But she was glad to have one of her best friends back, even if she had to share her with a member of a cursed family; Garreth Greengrass.
"You know exactly how I feel about Quidditch; I do care how we do against Gryffindor, but if I had a choice, I'd rather be sitting by the warm fire right now," Camille remarked shivering and clasping the warm glass tighter in her hands, hoping the pressure wouldn't break it into a hundred pieces.
"All grumbling, our good Camille! And I took so much trouble with the jar. But you'll see, it's going to be fun!" Alaric joined in with an encouraging smile and shining eyes. But he too straightened the green silver striped scarf and wrapped it tighter around his neck. "Besides, I'm sure Regulus will be happy to see you cheering him on!"
The mismatched sibling exchanged a fleeting yet meaningful glance. Camille rolled her turquoise eyes. Lorraine was far too much of a romantic to notice what the odds were around her and Regulus, and Alaric was too fond of making jokes that he ended up laughing the loudest at, as if he actually took them for granted.
"And I'm sure Emma would be sad if we missed out on her win against Gryffindor!", Lorraine agreed with him excitedly, rustling the massive banner she had designed especially for her friend, which featured a moving brunette girl on a broom and holding the Quidditch cup. The naïve blonde had a real talent for this kind of thing, Camille had noticed it often. She herself was neither particularly creative nor good at drawing.
