Dear Theodosia [fred weasley]

twenty three

you want a revolution, i want a revelation

Theodosia sat near a large bookshelf, examining the mark on her arm. Maybe she should have just ran away to the Weasley's. She wouldn't have been in this predicament, and would have been happy with people who were kind and gentle, compared to the harshness that was her family, and Voldemort's followers. She glanced over to see Draco looking at what was to be their first task, mending the vanishing cabinet at Hogwarts. She felt no urge to go look at it, which probably was a good thing, considering Hermione, Ron and Harry were just outside the window, watching Draco's every move. But she was perfectly out of view, which just happened to be a good convenience, as she wasn't ready to let her friends find out the truth about her. Draco examined the cabinet, running his fingers over the crevices of the designs engraved within the wood. Narcissa looked over at her daughter, seating herself beside her. "Are you alright, dear?" She asked kindly. Theodosia looked up, nodding slightly, then back to the mark on her arm. "It will stop burning eventually. It always hurts for a little while, and then you will become accustomed to it." She assured her, trying to ease her conflicted mind.

"It's fine." Theodosia told her, knowing that she wasn't bothered by the pain, more or less just the sight of the mark itself. Narcissa stared at her, knowing she was hurting, and knowing full well, her daughter wanted nothing of this life. But it was too late, and she felt somewhat sorry for that. Draco looked back at his mother, with a nod, indicating he could handle this mission. Narcissa stood to her feet, followed by Theodosia, and the three of them left the shop quietly.
Theodosia looked down the street, to see the Weasley's joke shop was still booming with kids and shoppers. She urged to go back, and just take Fred in her arms once more, but that would create potential suspicion with her mother, so she avoided it, and looked back ahead to her walk way. Draco glanced over at her, feeling his sister's pain, and surprisingly, feeling himself grow sympathetic. Them growing close had really made him realize her heart was more pure than his, and he somewhat always felt jealous that she found happiness, even in the darkest of times. But seeing her look drained from all solitude, was, in a way, heartbreaking for him to witness.