HER QUILL SCRATCHES AGAINST THE parchment, echoing in the silence of the library. She had found a secluded area of the library where she could study without being bothered by most students.
Usually, she would study in the Slytherin common room with the rest of her friends, but she can hardly handle the crackle and snap of the fire. She slipped out, but it won't be long before there's an entire search party looking for her.
"Excuse me, Celestia?"
A voice interrupts her studying, but it is not one she recognised. Her grip on her quill tightens as she looks up at the girl who had spoken.
Before her, was a girl who had unkempt, waist-length blonde hair, and an almost dazed look on her face. She wore Ravenclaw robes, with pink, odd-looking glasses resting on her head. She looked vaguely familiar.
"Luna Lovegood, right?" asked Celestia.
Luna gave a dainty nod, one you would expect from royalty.
"Is there something I can help you with then, Lovegood?" Celestia continued.
Celestia had has no qualms with the girl Hogwarts deemed Loony Lovegood in the past, but at the moment, Celestia does not want to have a conversation; especially with someone who spoke in near-riddles and sounded like a Disney princess.
"I wanted to apologise about your fathers death, now that he has been proven innocent. Everyone was so cruel to you because of him, you know?" said Luna.
"Thank you, I guess?" Celestia replied tentatively. "But Sirius and I were estranged, if you're passing along condolences, they'd do better with Potter," she continued bitterly. "Weren't you there that night?"
Her final question had an underlying meaning, and Luna grasped it. She was asking if Luna had seen who she had sided with in the end; not her father, but Lucius, a condemned Death Eater.
"I was," confirmed Luna.
"Then why all the condolences?"
Luna pondered Celestia's words, staring at the dark haired girl before her. She looked at Celestia as if the reasoning had not occurred to her; she'd simply thought it, then executed it.
"Many people have walked these walls, many people live with magic in their blood. When war came, some chose good, and others chose bad. But there were some who chose neither. Who simply watched as havoc was raised, as people died, as new sovereigns came to reign: those bystanders are the worst. I chose my side, and you chose yours. I can't blame you for whatever lead you to that decision," explained Luna, "but I can not promise you that when the time comes, I won't hesitate to stand for what I believe in. If you are on the receiving end, I won't falter."
Those were not words Celestia had expected to hear from the girl who was notorious for being ditzy. Whoever had deemed her loony, must have been crazy in their own right. Perhaps she spoke in riddles to others, but she had spoken straight to Celestia. And Celestia respected that.
"Understood," said Celestia.
The words were a dismal, but either Luna missed that, or had something else to say. There was an awkward silence that only Celestia seemed aware of.
"Is there something else I could help you with?" asked Celestia.
"Oh! I wanted to give you this," Luna smiled.
That was when Celestia realised that she had been holding something behind her back. Luna placed down a flower crown, braided with purple and white flowers onto the table. Celestia stared at it dumbfoundedly.
"The flowers are heather; both lavender and the white ones. The white ones stand for protection, and the lavender ones stand for admiration and solitude," she explained. "Plus, the Nargles hate the smell. I don't know why. I've always enjoyed the smell of heather."
"For me?" faltered Celestia.
Luna nodded. "I apologise, Celestia, but I need to leave. There's been an uproar of Wrackspurts appearing, and I fear they may be starting a rebellion."
With that, the blonde girl disappeared into the labyrinth of the library, leaving a confunded Slytherin behind. Celestia blinked at the flower crown before her. She poked it, as if expecting it to turn into a monster and slay her where she sat.
When it did not turn into a monster, or begin spewing curses at her, she lifted it up dubiously. She placed it on her head, and still, there was no threat. How does she know what size my head is?
Taking it off, she placed it into her bag, which could hold much more than meets the eye. She shoved in her studying supplies into the bag as well, no longer having the motivation to continue mulling over the stupid Transfiguration homework.
Making her way through the library, she reached civilisation again. The hushed whispers as students worked together, the scrape of pages turning, the dull thud of a book slapping shut. Thankfully, no one paid her any mind as she exited the library.
Attention wavered on her as she passed, but with a pointed glare and snarl, students looked away. Anxiety still beat in her chest, but she had begun pushing the limits. She could no longer breakdown when too many people stared at her. She would not allow it.
The Wooden Bridge took her away from the library, and back towards the dungeons. She couldn't stand staying in the common room anymore, but perhaps one of her friends would like to practice Quidditch. If anything she could demand Quidditch practice, now that she is Captain. Which reminds her that she needs to schedule tryouts.
She was too focused on Quidditch, and everything her new title as Captain required, that she didn't realise the once deserted bridge had a newcomer.
"Celestia? We need to talk."
Celestia's entire body went taut. She kept walking, right past Hermione Granger who was wearing her foolish muggle clothes that afternoon. It was only when Hermione grabbed her arm to stop her walking that Celestia deigned her a response.
"What is it, Granger?" asked Celestia with barely concealed annoyance.
"We need to talk," she stated before clarifying, "about everything."
"You had your chance to talk to me last year. When I was staying at the Order with you. We were together for over a month, and you only talked to me when it benefited you. So, forgive me if I don't want to waste my time hearing you yap," Celestia sneered.
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, whether out of self-consciousness or anger, Celestia did not know. But the flare of her nostrils, and eyebrows lowered and pulled together, showed that she was infuriated.
"I keep reaching out to you despite everything that you have done. I am giving you an out. But you still can't get out of your own way," scoffed Hermione, turning to leave. "God, Cel, I feel sorry for you."
It was Celestia who gripped Hermione's arm and pulled her to a halt this time. "You don't get to turn your back on me. You don't get to act like I am some kind of charity case. You don't get to have some foolish delusion that you can save me. You don't have that right."
"I'm not treating you like a charity case, Celestia. Harry thinks you're too far gone, he's got some wild notion that both you and Malfoy are Death Eaters. I don't care if you fought with them that night at the Ministry, I still believe there's good in you," Hermione said.
The amulet hidden under Celestia's clothes pulsed, as if reacting to Hermione's anger. The amulet hung around her neck felt like another entity, making her feel the same way she does when she has her friends behind her during a fight.
"I would let go of that hope if I were you, Granger, because if you give me a match I won't hesitate to burn this whole rutting school to the ground with everyone in it," said Celestia, her voice calm. Too calm.
"I get it—" Hermione attempted to sympathise.
"No, you don't get it," interrupted Celestia, her last thread of composure snapping. "Some of us don't get to be the hero of the story, okay? Some of us are the bad guys. I'm so sick of your goody two-shoes bullshit! You don't understand, you never understood, because you never fucking listened to me."
Hermione stumbles back, and that is when Celestia realises that she still had a hold on Hermione's arm, and she had been gripping it harder. She let her go, and Celestia should have felt some kind of remorse but all her treacherous mind could think was, Good. I hope it leaves a bruise.
"The day a mudblood understands what I feel, I'll relinquish every dime to my name; which will be ten times the worth of your life once I finish taking your half-blood of a friend to court to get back what was mine by birthright," seethed Celestia.
Her faced was pale, her eyes wide, and her arms wrapped around herself as she shrunk away from Celestia. Celestia could nearly smell the fear radiating from the muggle-born before her, and she wondered if it was because the amulet on her neck. Because that very amulet was feeding on her anger, begging, pleading, for Celestia to dig the knife deeper.
"Go ahead. Turn your back on me now," said Celestia.
Celestia took in a deep breath to reign in her anger. Whether the amulet was feeding off of her anger, or it was just some delusion, she did not want to even consider the amulet a living entity.
Deciding she was not going to fight anymore, Hermione began taking steps backwards. As if fearing the moment she turned, Celestia would plunge a knife into her back. Only a coward would attack from behind.
When Hermione still took hesitant, slow steps back, Celestia rolled her eyes as if the act was a waste of time. Celestia was the one to turn away first, her hand instantly sliding her wand inconspicuously into her hand in case Hermione tried anything.
Celestia did not know if Hermione turned and walked away, or if she stayed there watching as she left, but either way, Celestia was seething as she walked through the hallways of Hogwarts.
Bursting through the common room doors, she was extremely thankful to find her friends sitting on the couches. Minus Draco, who was most likely working on his task for the Dark Lord, which he had yet to fill them in on.
"There you are! We were about to send out a search party—" began Theo.
"Quidditch Pitch. Now," commanded Celestia, not giving them a glance as she stormed passed to get a change her clothes and geab her broom.
She felt like an arsehole then, for commanding her friends as if she were so superior, but her anger was aflame. If she could not hex Hermione to the Heavens, then she needed to put her temper to good use. Using Quidditch was as good as reason as any to use as an outlet of her rage.
And Celestia was extremely thankful to find that when she reached the Quidditch Pitch fifteen minutes later, it was empty minus Theo and Blaise. She had no clue where Pansy was, and in that moment, she could care less. She needed to get this anger out before she explodes.
Then, she was soaring through the sky, flanked by Theo and Blaise. They did not speak, did not ask questions, but they kept up with her. They weaved, and turned, moving through the pitch as if they were currently engaged in an extreme game. Then they were throwing the Quaffle, and they were pushing themselves harder than ever.
They made passes and goals that would no be possible if it weren't for the anger and adrenaline fueling her veins. When she felt her side begin to stitch, she only forced herself harder. When the boys began to slow down, she only sped up. Her only thoughts were the intricate movements required of Quidditch.
It was only once the sun had fully dipped beneath the horizon, and they were bathed in moonlight, that Celestia made her touchdown. Sweat glistened her face, stuck her clothes to her bodies. She was dehydrated, her mouth dry, lips cracked. Her arms ached, her backside sore.
Theo was staring at her intently while she took in deep but hesitant breaths, because her lungs were aching, too.
"Blaise, you go ahead," ordered Theo, his eyes not straying from Celestia. "We'll catch up with you in a bit."
"Are you sure?" asked Blaise, glancing between the two of them.
"We'll be fine," said Celestia.
He mulled his decision over for a couple minutes before nodding. He tucked his broom under his arm, sending them both a look that said he expected an explanation later, and disappeared.
"What is up with you?" demanded Theo.
"Nothing. Something just sent my temper off," said Celestia through gritted teeth.
"That much was obvious," said Theo. "No happy person forces themselves to practice Quidditch tremendously, nonstop, for nearly five hours."
"No need to be a smart-arse," Celestia replied.
"Tell me what's wrong," pushed Theo.
"Theo, I told you—"
"No more secrets, remember? Tell me what set you off," said Theo.
She was glaring at him like he was the reason for her anger. Her hands were pulled up into fists, no doubt leaving crescent moons on her palm. He did not even waver at her glare of contempt, only flicked a glance down to her hands.
"Go on," taunted Theo. "Punch me. Give it everything you've got. You know you want to."
She didn't want to punch him. But her anger was still there, five hours pushing her to exhaustion, yet she still felt the urge to burn anything and everything to the ground.
"Do it, CeCe, I dare you," he goaded.
His challenging voice set something off within her. She swung her fist, aiming it at his jaw. He grapped her forearm before it was even close. That only infuriated her more. She raised her other hand, intending to slap him. He grabbed her other forearm before it, too, could make contact.
With both hands wrapped around her arms, he pulled her forward so that they were nearly chest-to-chest. Her nostrils flared as she tried to pull away, but was kept in place by the shackles that are his hands.
"If you're going to throw a punch, darling," murmured Theo, "you need to know the proper form.
She tried to wiggle out of his grip. "I don't need to know useless muggle fighting."
"What is going to happen when you get disarmed in a battle, huh? No wand to defend you, what are you going to do then?" questioned Theo, still not letting her out of grasp.
"Then I die," Celestia stated plainly.
His grip tightened. Not enough to bruise, but enough to pull her attention from trying to escape. Enough to look into his eyes and see the seriousness, and a mix of fear.
"You don't give up, you hear me? You can't just lose your wand and think that's it. I won't let you think that," said Theo. "Let me teach you."
"Huh?" she spluttered. "What do you know about muggle fighting?"
"There's a lot of things you can learn with a dead mother, and a father who gave up," he said. "Will you let me teach you?"
"I don't see why. If that's what you think will save my life, then fine," agreed Celestia, albeit begrudgingly.
His grip loosened, allowing her to slip out if she wanted. She didn't. His gaze dropped from her face, snagging on the amulet, which must have slipped out from under clothes during their training. "Who gave you that?"
"It belonged to my uncle, Regulus," she answered.
He seemed to relax slightly, during his gaze back up to his face. He seemed to search her face for some kind of answer, and Celestia wasn't sure what he found. He let out a loose sigh.
"Will you tell me what happened now, Celestia? Please?" implored Theo.
"It was silly," Celestia said, averting har gaze to her discarded broom laying on the grass. "I'll tell you over dinner. I'm starving."
"I'm pretty sure we missed dinner, darling, but let's go see what scarps we can dig up in the kitchen. I expect to here everything," said Theo, finally letting her go completely.
"Okay," she sighed.
"Okay," he echoed.
AUTHORS NOTE
sorry for the short chapter!! i promise longer chapters coming soon.
i apologise if the fight scene was cringy?! im not the best at writing them :/ but we finally severing all ties with 'mione so...
hope you somewhat enjoyed this chapter. don't forget to vote!
yours,
beth.