Atropos → george weasley

xliv. monarch

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forty four

monarch

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Late that evening, Ottilie arrived in her dorm room after a frustrating few hours struggling to help Vince prepare for the approaching exams.

Across the room, Draco was doing the same for Gregory, who was even farther behind than Vince since Ottilie never gave him help and Draco never seemed to offer his.

Watching Draco thread his fingers through his hair in frustration got her closer to feeling bad for him than she had ever been before.

She was exhausted when she walked into the dorm, and her boisterous roommates weren't helping her aching head. She collapsed into her bed, grabbed her latest history book from Binns, and considered conjuring a pair of earplugs.

"He even had his mum send him flowers to give me when he asked!" Pansy gestured to a vase of white hyacinths and yellow moly flowers. Since walking into the room, Ottilie had quickly deciphered that Draco had asked Pansy to the ball earlier that day. She spoke of it as though Draco was a royal prince, and she expected that the rest of the girls would die of jealousy.

Tracey did seem slightly jealous. Daphne and Millicent were clearly indifferent.

"The arrangement is so beautiful," said Tracey wistfully.

"Narcissa has fine taste," Daphne said, gently brushing a petal on a hyacinth flower.

Tracey grinned. "I'm sure she'll send Draco the perfect robes, and the two of you will look amazing at the dance."

Ottilie rolled her eyes behind her book.

"Adrian and me, on the other hand..." Daphne grimaced. "It will be a chore getting him into something other than his weekend robes."

"He's gorgeous, though, isn't he? That should make up for it," said Tracey.

The room suddenly got quiet, though not still. Ottilie knew that this shift in atmosphere meant that one of them was about to harass her about something—try to get some kind of reaction.

From somewhere behind Ottilie's book, Pansy's voice sounded: "Has someone asked you, van der Hoeven?"

At this point in their school career, the girls' dorm room was usually a sort of demilitarized zone. It worked better for everyone to ignore Ottilie when they were in their room. Constant conflict was difficult on everyone, not just Ottilie.

Still, sometimes, Pansy couldn't resist.

Ottilie turned a page. "Justin Finch-Fletchley did."

"Figures. The Mudbloods are going together," said Pansy.

"Yep." Ottilie had been called Mudblood enough times over the years, it no longer landed as much of an insult. It was more of a nickname, really.

"Nice to run into you at the shops today," Pansy continued. Ottilie sighed, lowering her book and sitting up in her bed so she could meet Pansy's eyes. "Did you end up getting those dress robes?"

"Of course," said Ottilie, trying not to look at where she'd sealed them away in her dresser. It was locked with her homemade password spell that required an Alohamora with her unique magical signature to open it—sort of like a magical version of a retinal scan. (She hadn't yet figured out how to ward off someone from forging her magical signature. But counterfeiting magical signatures took talent beyond even her ability. So, for now, she was willing to bet her things were safe from her roommates.)