𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗡 𝗧𝗢 𝗗𝗜𝗘, 𝗗𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗢 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗙𝗢𝗬
In which two star-crossed lovers
get their hearts dragged through
hell and back just to be together.
Olivia Mallard and Draco Malfoy.
they were made for destruction
and born to die.
...
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A little less than a week had passed—long, boring, and full of school work and conversations amongst friends. Olivia was out of her mind trying to figure out links between Sirius Black and Professor Lupin, aside from the fact that they were a part of the Order when it was still up and running and went to Hogwarts together (where they may or may not have been friends—that was still up for debate). Now more than ever, she needed to know.
She had first pondered whether to ask Snape about the two after learning of his suspicions when Dumbledore hired Lupin, but then she thought better of it. The man would ask too many questions, pry himself into her investigation, and ultimately figure out all of the secret plans she had.
Was she being a little paranoid? Yes.
But it wasn't Snape's business. If he found out what she was thinking of, researching, and planning, then he'd tell her parents. And frankly, it wasn't any of their business either. Olivia was approaching the ripe age of fourteen; she could do things on her own without her parents or Snape budding in and trying to take over or tell her what to do and not to do.
If (or when) she needed them and their help, she'd tell them. But, for the time being, she was doing it all on her own, just how she liked it.
So there she sat—in the library, her face in a book, content with her plans. She was taking a momentary pause from her Black-Lupin-Connections research and catching up (or rather, getting ahead) on her school work. She only had one more assignment to complete, and she was grateful. She was also grateful for the fact that she finally no longer had to wear the godforsaken bandages around her torso, covering her scratch marks, which, despite Madam Pomfrey's initial worries about the girl's rapid healing, were slowly but surely closing up.
She was healing; that was the main point. But when she'd visited the hospital to make sure everything was good and well earlier that day (meaning she wasn't going to almost die from an infection in her wound again), Madam Pomfrey seemed rather surprised that the marks were still healing.
