Starlit Death ✹ harry potter (on hold)

𝖛𝖎𝖎. and the madness returned

"I love you too, mum," said Ascella, watching anxiously as the train began to leave.

"Try not to put your hand in any more fires!" called out Seraphina in mirth, referring to when Ascella's hands had slipped into the burning cooker, Ascella herself unaware of it.

Ascella let out a weak laugh, "I'll try my very best!" With one more dismayed glance to Seraphina, she stepped onto the soon-parting train, and out of sight.

The train was unsurprisingly packed, students from different years already sat in compartments, meeting up with friends they hadn't seen over the holidays. Ascella peered through the glass, smiling and waving warmly at anyone she knew; Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, Luna Lovegood, Cho Chang and many more.

Clearly not paying attention, Ascella winced as her hip slammed into the wall of the train, a shock of pain surging through her. A groan escaped her lips, not only from the ache that was forming, but from the familiar, malicious laughter that was heard.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Black. Did that hurt?" Ivory Reyes taunted in faux worry, twisting a strand of her blonde locks between her fingers. "Who am I kidding? I hope it hurt."

"Wow, Reyes," laughed Ascella, glaring daggers at the smirking girl, "that's so original. Maybe I should slam you up against a wall. See if that hurts."

"I'm not frightened of you, Black," retorted Ivory, who kept a stoic expression on her face, despite the shiver that wracked her spine from the hardened glare Ascella was sending her.

"Really? Most people are," mused Ascella, whilst Ivory chuckled lowly, her lips spread into a hostile smile.

"Merlin, Black, you really are pathetic," spat Ivory, advancing on Ascella as though she were a predator, and Ascella was the prey. "You think you're so special, just because your surname's Black. You act as though you're royalty, well, news flash, Sweetheart, you're not. You're just a low-life, pitiful person with a Death Eater for a father and a whore for a mother."

Ascella was practically trembling in anger, her hair flashed a blood red. Her wand was held tightly in her hand, her magic buzzing between her fingers. "Wow, Reyes. That truly was something. Bet you think you're so brilliant, trying to antagonise me, get me to lash back at you. If you ever try to provoke me again, I'll show you what a real Black's anger looks like. And, trust me, it won't be pleasant —"

"Is there a problem here?" a voice interrupted Ascella's enraged rant. Cedric Diggory approached the two arguing girls, Ivory's eyes widened in terror, and Ascella's face flushed in shock and previous fury, her hand clasping around Ivory's forearm.

"Uh － no, everything's fine here," Ascella attempted to reassure, discreetly stamping on Ivory's foot when she opened her mouth to speak.

"Well, you'd better get into a compartment," said Cedric, scratching the back of neck sheepishly. "Other prefects may not be so lenient."

"Yeah, thanks, Diggory," said Ascella, and Cedric sent the two a small smile, before walking back down the corridor. When she was sure he was gone, Ascella released a sigh of relief, and Ivory yanked her arm from Ascella's grasp.