𝐵𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 | 𝒟.𝑀.

18 | ﴾ A Graceful Predator ﴿

I awoke on Saturday morning, the day after the visit to Snape's office, with some optimism. The crest was violently scorching into my neck, but there was nothing that I could do about that. It seemed to have a will of it's own, somehow aware of the times when I was far from Malfoy or acting insolent to it's marriage agenda. 

Hilda was awake in her bed and her eyes trailed after me as I dressed and prepared for a visit to the lake. I had intentions to lay in the sunshine of the beautiful winter day and do some research on bequeathment marks. The thought to ask Hermione Granger if she knew of any helpful literature had crossed my mind, but if the frosty glances she'd been sending me lately were any indication of her temperature towards me than it would be best left alone. I knew it was probably a lost cause, but I had to try figuring out a solution on my own. I had to put up a fight now that I wasn't being forced to conform to Malfoy's incessant and smothering babysitting. 

"Going outside, are we?" She asked from her bed, where she was lying on her side flipping through a wizarding newspaper. Moving pictures on the pages glanced unnervingly up towards her profile as though they could actively engage with her. Her brown hair flopped leisurely off her shoulders in messy tangles.

I turned to face her as I buttoned up my jacket, "Wouldn't you like to know?" My response was curt and dismissive but she pressed on, sitting up with a serious expression, snapping closed the fragile papers.

"Okay look, I've seen the way he's been treating you. I think I'm smart enough to recognize when someone is trapped in an abusive relationship. What's going on Madeleine? What happened after your Quidditch accident? People are saying you two got...married?" She looked sympathetic and disturbed, like she had just stepped in dog feces in high heels.

I looked at her, knitting my eyebrows together, "Ah and did anyone attend de wedding? I don recall getting married." I crossed my arms. She just stared at me with confusion.

"Okay...so why is everyone calling you a Malfoy? Why were you wearing clothing with that fucking crest all over it?" She stood from her bed accusatorially, holding her arms apart with aggressive questioning gestures, "Why does he follow you around like the worlds worst boyfriend?" She raised her eyebrows at me and threw the newspaper onto the ground. Her sentences had gradually become louder as she spoke, garnishing the amused attention of other girls in the room. 

I paused long enough to consider how to approach this. I had wanted this conversation for so long, and now that it had arrived it was like I was stuck in mud. I had no idea which direction to step in. Could I tell her everything honestly and hope that there would be no consequences from it? An image of Lucius' sadistic face hovered in my vision, imagining what he would do to me if I "embarrassed" his family name by pointing out that it was an extremely unhealthy, forced engagement.

I sucked on my bottom lip, feeling a wave of ambiguity crashing over my logic. I couldn't really be open and honest with her right there, in front of all of those prying eyes, "Walk? With me?" I questioned, and to my surprise she nodded and started throwing on layers haphazardly. I dismissed the notion of packing any research books on the mark, knowing full well that talking with Hilda would take precedence. When her hasty winter outfit resembled something that had been tossed sloppily over a child's backyard snowman we left the room, ignoring Pansy's giggling. 

Hilda and I descended to the bottom of the staircase leading to the green and silver common room and it was like a punch to my gut to see Malfoy sitting by the fire, preoccupied with a text of some sort. He seemed to never drop his game; sat there like a handsome sleeping dragon guarding the only exit from the dungeons. His pale grey eyes locked onto us like a magnet and I fought the urge to shoot a hex at him before he could stand.