𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 '𝟗𝟔 ; 𝐝. 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 ✓

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐰𝐨

A few days passed since the start of sixth year. They were rather difficult, as it was arduous to adapt to my new being without the man I had loved. I was precisely interrogated by loads of people from all sorts of years of all sorts of houses. They had wondered why I was so mournful, because I had been so lively in previous years. But they didn't understand.

They never would.

•••••••

1:28 pm
September 6, 1996

I was slouched in Defense Against the Dark Arts once again. That silly monotonous class was the absolute death of me. My ears couldn't bare another word to come out of Professor Snape's mouth. I fiddled with my feathered quill, deep in thought while he rambled on and on for ages about corrupt hexes. While I zoned out, I memorialized all of the vague memories I had made sitting in this very classroom. Like in second year, when I spewed my chewed eraser out of my mouth and it struck Professor Lockhart's gelled hair, causing him to bitch at me the rest of the class while my peers howled in laughter. Or the time when Professor Moody passed around the spider-like animal, and it clung to Blaise's shirt and we had to tear it's grip off of him. Or when Professor Umbridge granted detention to me for calling her a "catty bitch", and I sat in her dreaded office while another student walked in, who had been punished earlier that day as well for laughing when she tripped over her words. Then, I remembered.

It was Draco.

Draco. Just his name made me feel queasy. The lump in my throat that had somewhat dissipated throughout these past few days, due to distracting myself, had returned, and my tears flooded my eyes. Here we were again. I had planned on putting my trust in fate, like Pansy had advised, but it felt utterly futile to just become completely obliterate about someone whom I would always love. My face began to scorch while my heart began to pace. I felt sick.

"Professor Snape!" I exclaimed, rising from my chair, interrupting his lecture.

"Yes, Armstrong?" He fired back maliciously.

"M-May I please use the restroom?"

"Go."

I hurried out of the crowded and curious classroom before my tears began draining out of my eyes. In a frantic rush, I dashed to the nearest bathroom. Beads of sweat rolled down my blazing face. Turning a corner, I thumped into someones tall figure. Then, I saw the berserk redhead peering down at me with his beady eyes.

"I'm sorry, I just—"

"What's wrong, Estelle?" Ron croaked, surprisingly sympathetically.

"Oh, it's nothing to your concern. Could you please move?"

"No, I am concerned. You're crying, Estelle. You never cry. Please, tell me if you need someone to talk to."

Had he turned over a new leaf?

"Um, yeah actually." I responded hesitantly. "That would be great."

"Alright, well then if you need someone to talk to, then I'm sure another repulsive Slytherin quite like yourself would talk to you about your lustful summer fling with Draco Malfoy, pathetic slut."

With an evidently sorrowful scoff, I nudged past his evil self, making sure he bumped the wall.

For the remainder of my classes, I stood in the bathroom in tears, hovered over the sink. My hopeless reflection stared back at me, repeating Ron's bitter words.

I'm sure another repulsive Slytherin quite like yourself would talk to you about your lustful summer fling with Draco Malfoy, pathetic slut.

The more his cruel words resounding throughout my fractured mind, the more I bawled.

One bad quality of mine was relying on others validation for my self-esteem. It had peaked in the summer, as the only words I would ever hear about myself was "Beautiful little Estelle" or "Estelle, did you know your eyes glow in the sun?" or even "Estelle, I am entirely convinced that your heart is made of pure gold." 

Now, all I had left was "Estelle Armstrong, pshhh, ugly whore." or "Pathetic slut." or "Airheaded, coldhearted Slytherin girl."

After the time passed, I soon hauled myself out of the depressive daze I had just been in. My hood delicately camouflaging my eyes, hiding my identity from the whispering students lined along the halls. I reached the common room, relieved to see that no one was loitering, and that I could have it all to myself.  Blindly, I had selected a bulky book off of the grand bookshelf, books were my escape from reality. I plopped onto the couch with a soft blanket, my favorite. My consciousness lazily faded into the book. The extravagant doors to the Slytherin common room opened and shut, as evil laughter erupted from in the distance.

Well, hell! Who would've guessed it? Crabbe and Goyle, the evil duo, strutting right in with none other than Ronald Weasley. Honestly, what a perfect trio the three were! They were practically made for each other.

"Well, well, well! Look who we have here!" Ron's cold voice boomed from across the room.

I glanced over at the boys as they approached me quickly with hateful grins spread across their snarled lips.

"Malfoy's little slut?"

"Malfoy's? Oh, that ludicrous boy know's better than to fuck around with Estelle Armstrong." Crabbe fired back, arching an eyebrow.

"You never heard about their summer fling, Crabbe? Can't even imagine the amount of times that whore dropped to her knees for him." Ron added, looking at me for a reaction

Once again, I was shoved completely past my breaking point. Fuck. The tears welled right back up in my eyes, this always happens at the worst times possible. Stay strong, Estelle.

"Ronald!" I arose from my perch on the couch and clutched onto the collar of his shirt. "I know damn well your mother taught you better than this, and I'm sure she would be utterly repulsed to find out that her son was treating girls in a way like this. Do everyone a favor, Ronald. Pull your head out of your asshole and learn how to treat a fucking woman!"

Ronald withdrew himself from my clutch on his collar, and sprinted right off with Crabbe. Fucking assholes.

One thing that surprised me, however, Goyle remained in the common room. He didn't decide to escape with Ron and Crabbe. In fact, he sat right next to me.

"Why aren't you fleeing with them?" I snapped, blinking back the tears that were trying to escape my eyes once again.

"I'm not as bad as I'm deemed to me." He replied, gazing into the fireplace. "Where Malfoy went? I don't know. But just know I was always his support. Draco told me everything. And what Crabbe said is false, Malfoy has always loved you. And I know he always will."

My bottom lip quivered and I began to sob once again. Goyle sat next to me in stiff silence, at loss for words.

I sat there and I sobbed, I sobbed, and I sobbed.

God, all I wanted was to see him again. His grey eyes tender with affection, the way they stared into mine as he whispered on and on about his love for me. His hair, bright blond as the moon, even perfect when it wasn't sternly gelled how he liked it to be. His soft lips, which protectively caressed my forehead as we woke up every morning. I missed everything about him.

Please God, please. Just let me see my love again.