i don't usually do song recs but for this chapter i highly, highly, recommend listening to strangers by halsey!! it fits the mood perfectly.
𝕵𝖆𝖓𝖚𝖆𝖗𝖞 2016
DIANA IS CURRENTLY VERY ANGRY AT HERSELF.
It was a hard decision, convincing Narcissa to let her spend the break with the Lovegoods, of all people. Blood traitors, that's what she calls them, self-serving scum. Her relationship with her mother is akin to brittle bones. The woman was already furious enough about her cotton-candy hair when she came to pick her up at King's Cross, rambling on about how she looked like a muggle, of all things. Why don't you just go and kill me already?! Narcissa had shrieked, almost tearing her own silvery-blonde hair out with the roots, I can't believe this . . . where did my little girl go?!
The little girl you dressed up like your own personal plaything?! Diana had screamed, inside her head, The little girl your husband dragged by the hair whenever she did anything wrong?! The little girl you tried to mold into what you wanted instead of caring about her well-being?! She died a long time ago, mom-
But instead, as usual, Diana had stayed silent. It felt better to stay silent down than let out the raging cacophony inside her head. Submission has been ingrained into her ever since she was a small child, taught to obey instead of question. But after all these years, keeping your head down gets a little tiring and Diana feels a deep sense of shame lying there, on Luna's bed, the soft sound of the fan above them echoing throughout the room.
Goddamnit, she should've said something.
"If you're going to solve puzzles in your head while I'm next to you, the least you could do is include me in them, "
The words make her blush and embarrassment settle in her stomach. Diana turns to face Luna, who's facing her whilst lying on her side. She looks beautiful -- more beautiful than Diana thought someone could ever look before. The pale blue silk of her pajamas suit her fair skin and make her protuberant eyes sparkle in a way that's making Diana's stomach flip over.
She suddenly feels inadequate in her oversized band tee that's stolen from her older brother (well he "lost" it and never bothered to realize that their clothes had been mixed up by the elves), looking like a ratty old Cleansweep next to a fancy Nimbus 2005, but the feelings go away as soon as Luna's hand reaches out and brushes a strand of hair away from her face, a jolt going down her spine at the contact.
"What're you even thinking about that's so important?" Luna questions, now back to lightly stroking her hair, "You seemed so far off, "
"I-I don't know, " Diana replies, bottom lip catching beneath her teeth, suddenly finding it very hard to concentrate, "Just about . . . . my mum. We had an argument before I came here and and I feel bad for ending things on a shitty note, "
"Do you want to talk about it?" asks Luna, her voice soft and serene. Something about it is very reassuring, Diana notes, as she allows herself to fall into a comfortable haze.
"Not really, " mutters Diana, "I don't really want to think about my family right now, "
"That's okay, " replies Luna, kindly, "But just know that if you do decide to say anything, I'm never going to judge you for it, "
"T-thanks Luna, " Diana stammers, feeling embarrassed at the sudden thought that flits through her head. The covers beneath her are so warm and soft, and with the warm weight of Luna pressed next to her, one can't help but think . . .
No. No it would be wayy too soon for Diana to even think about that. They're just friends, close friends, but Diana doesn't want to fuck up whatever relationship they already have by asking her to do something she might not be comfortable with. Besides, she needs to get more a grip on herself. It's not like she's been starved of touch her entire life, Diana knows what it feels like to have been hugged and have your head patted; it usually doesn't do anything emotional if it comes from your smelly old aunt Bellatrix but still-
Luna says it before she can muster up to courage to.
"Y'know, it's awfully chilly in here . . . . Dad told us that we're out of blankets too . . . " She says it casually but it still makes Diana's heart jump for joy, "Would it . . . . would it be okay if we just cuddled for a while? Platonically? I would've figured something else out but I'm really fucking cold and don't want to move so . . . yeah . . ., "
"Sure!! " Diana says, a little too enthusiastically to be normal; She tries to cover it up with a nervous laugh, "I mean . . . I'm fine with it if you are,"
Luna gives her quizzical look before scooting closer to Diana, the taller girl moving and making space for Luna to curl into her side. The blonde witch does exactly that, unabashedly throwing an arm over Diana's body as their legs tangle together. She tentatively wraps an arm around Luna's waist out of politeness, turning onto her side as the smaller girl snuggles into her chest, forcing (which is what Diana tells herself so that annoying little voice in her head will shut up) Diana to rest her chin on top of Luna's head.
She smells like daisies. That's a very platonic thing to notice . . . right?
"Diana?"
"Huh?" Diana cranes her neck to look down at Luna's head resting on her chest, something like butterflies going through her stomach at the way she looks up at her.
Luna smiles, a teasing, snarky one that has Diana's stomach doing somersaults. She gulps, suddenly feeling very warm all over.
"Tell your brain to shut up and go to sleep, "
Diana laughs, softly, as Luna grumbles about the cold and snuggles into her further.
She falls asleep feeling safe for the first time in years.
Going back to school is far from easy for Maya.
There's the week she's taken off for the little detour to Delhi, the questioning stares and bland answers she gives to Harry, Ron and Hermione about why she suddenly went MIA. Diana knows the truth of course; there's no reason for her not to. Maya's apologized to Isabelle numerous times for what ended up happening on their shopping trip, the guilt feeling like it was eating her alive inside from what she put her friend through after spiralling into madness. But the Shadowhunter was surprisingly very understanding about the whole thing, stating that rage can make people do horrible things and to let bygones be bygones, and that Cameron may or may not have deserved it for provoking her in the first place--
Thank god her mom had the foresight to go to his parents and reveal the truth, otherwise Maya would be in very, very, deep shit right now. It's not as though she hasn't received any consequences for her actions though; Maya's had to sign a contract from the Institute, which means that she can never use her magic in front of Mundanes again, unless she wants to risk literal banishment and being thrown in the Gard for the rest of her life.
But considering that there's now an ongoing investigation at Constance Billiard and Cameron Butler's been expelled, a small part of her thinks it may, just may, have been a tiny bit worth it.
Anyway, with their O.W.Ls approaching in six months, her teachers aren't hesitating to pile the fifth years with homework. Maya doesn't know how she's managing to keep her anxiety under control, with all that's going on. A combination of propranolol and mindfulness exercises are seeming to help to alleviate some of the pressure, as well as weekly check-ins with Jem, who's forced her to cut down to one cup of coffee a day (crazy, I know!) as it could potentially interfere with her meds.
She clicks through the keys on her laptop, finally starting to work on her submission to win an internship at Vox Angelus. "Journalism is a representation of the ruling powers that govern public opinion, " Maya types out, biting her lip in concentration, "Oftentimes, those ruling powers are not an accurate representation of ongoing problems in current society, due to the fact that there is no empathy or nuanced view towards the actual events. One example of this is the way the Middle east's diversity is being squashed into a narrow, colonial viewpoint by various major news outlets, every time a tragedy occurs there. . . . ., "
"The assumption that the majority of Arab people are terrorists is often propagated to appeal to a white, privileged majority, " Maya mutters, under her breath, a lightbulb suddenly going off in her head, "They find comfort in those views because that is all they've been exposed to thus far. Diversity in both coverage and newsrooms could change this harmful rhetoric for the better. If more people from the Arab community were included in the newsroom, there could be a positive change in the way these cases are covered and broadcasted. They could give feedback as well as provide racial & cultural context to make sure that the journalists involved are treating the issue with the care and sensitivity that it deserves. "
"Bingo, baby!" Maya whoops, joy spreading through her veins. A huge grin breaks out on her face at finally, finally being able to work through her immense writer's block that's been looming over her head for the past few months.
She might actually have a chance at winning this thing.
Later that day, she sits with Ron and Hermione in the library, where they work on Umbridge's most recent ream of homework. Other students, nearly all of them fifth-years, sit at lamp-lit tables nearby, noses close to books, quills scratching feverishly, while the sky outside the mullioned windows grows steadily darker. The only other sound is the slight squeaking of one of Madam Pince's shoes, as the librarian prowls the aisles menacingly, breathing down the necks of those touching her precious books.
When Harry sits down next to her, opposite Ron and Hermione, Maya immediately grows concerned; His skin is dead-white, scar more prominent than usual.
'How did it go?' Hermione whispers, and then, looking concerned. 'Are you all right, Harry?'
'Yeah . . . fine . . . I dunno,' says Harry impatiently, wincing as though his scar is bothering him once more 'Listen . . . I've just realised something . . .'
Harry tells them about his latest Occlumency lesson with Snape. Apparently, he's come to a major conclusion; the corridor he's been having dreams about? It's none other than the Department of Mysteries.
'So . . . so are you saying . . .' whispers Ron, as Madam Pince sweeps past, squeaking slightly 'that the weapon — the thing You-Know-Who's after — is in the Ministry of Magic?'
'In the Department of Mysteries, it's got to be,' Harry whispers. 'I saw that door when your dad took me down to the courtrooms for my hearing and it's definitely the same one he was guarding when the snake bit him.'
Hermione lets out a long, slow sigh. 'Of course,' she breathes.
'Of course what?' says Ron rather impatiently.
'Ron, think about it. . . Sturgis Podmore was trying to get through a door at the Ministry of Magic . . . it must have been that one, it's too much of a coincidence!'
'How come Sturgis was trying to break in when he's on our side?' says Ron.
'Yeah, doesn't that seem a bit . . . off to you?" Maya questions, her interest piqued.
'So what's in the Department of Mysteries?' Harry asks Ron. 'Has your dad ever mentioned anything about it?'
'I know they call the people who work in there "Unspeakables" ', says Ron, frowning. 'Because no one really seems to know what they do — weird place to have a weapon.'
'It's not weird at all, it makes perfect sense,' says Hermione. 'It will be something top secret that the Ministry has been developing, I expect . . . Harry, are you sure you're all right?'
Harry has just ran his hands over his forehead as though he's trying to iron down his scar, 'Yeah . . . fine . . .' he says, lowering his hands, which are trembling. 'I just feel a bit . . . I don't like Occlumency much.'
'I expect anyone would feel shaky if they'd had their mind attacked over and over again,' says Hermione sympathetically, to Maya's surprise, 'Look, let's get back to the common room, we'll be a bit more comfortable there.'
Maya packs up along with them, dreading the long night of homework that awaits her. She can feel her brain cells slowly shriveling up and dying from exhaustion. Yet another History of Magic essay is left, then some Arithmancy problems, then finally, a Transfiguration quiz that she's probably going to half-ass studying for.
Whatever. It's nothing she can't handle. Though it's probably on Maya for choosing ten classes out of thirteen in the first place.
As she stows her calculator into the front pocket of her satchel, mentally preparing herself for the long hours ahead, Maya sees someone familiar out of the corner of her eye. Her heart does an unexpected leap in her chest as she recognizes a familiar blond head of hair bent over a Transfiguration textbook. Draco Malfoy seems utterly lost in thought, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he scribbles out an answer onto his piece of parchment. Something about the way his bangs fall over his eyes make her stomach tighten, and before she knows it, Maya is quietly walking over to sit down at his table once the Golden trio are out of sight.
He doesn't notice her at first; in fact, it takes a clear of his throat for him to even look up. But when he does, it's as though a change has come over him. Draco Malfoy sits up straighter, a tint of pink at his cheekbones as his grey eyes widen in surprise.
"Erm . . . hi, I guess, " Maya says, nervously, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear; It's now long enough for her to be able to tie up.
"Hello, " he replies, voice breathy with shock, "What - what're you doing here?"
"I . . . just wanted to see how you were, " Maya replies, softly, "After everything, "
"I'm . . . . alright, " replies Draco (Maya doesn't know when she switched to calling him that in her head), "How was your break?"
"I - uh, " Maya laughs, nervously, wondering how much of the truth she should tell him, "Well, I finally went to therapy. Got the help I needed . . . . . it's been nice, actually, "
"Oh yeah?" he says, smiling; Something flips over in her stomach at his accent and Maya suddenly feels red creeping across her cheeks, "How'd that go?"
"Very reassuring, to be honest, " Maya replies, surprised at his interest, "It's nice to know that I'm not completely insane. My mother, however, is trying to turn me into an adult. I think she wants to make move-out day come sooner, "
"Really?" he puts away his textbook; having all his attention on her at once, "What did she do?"
"Well, for starters, she wants me to get my learner's license by the time I'm sixteen, " Maya rolls her eyes at the memory, "Basically forced me into the driver's seat-"
"You drive?" he questions, brows furrowing.
"With my mother in the car, don't worry, " Maya adds, seeing his look of concern, "Anyways - um - " she flushes with embarrassment, recalling that day with very vivid memory, "let's just say it didn't go according to plan, "
"As in?" There's a teasing smirk on his face, as if he already knows what's going to come out of her mouth. Maya suddenly squirms in her seat, his gaze on her doing very strange things to her body. Merlin, why is she so flustered?
"I - " Maya stutters, wondering if she really should be admitting this to someone she used to consider her worst enemy, "I - may or may not - have crashed, " His eyebrows raise, " - into - into the neighbors mailbox, "
Draco Malfoy stares at her for a full five seconds before bursting into laughter.
Maya feels hot embarrassment wash over her as he clutches his side, almost doubling over.
"Stop - stop laughing at me, " she grumbles, sinking down in her seat, "I bet you couldn't do better if you tried, "
"Actually, I could, " he counters, much to her surprise, sitting back up. Maya isn't sure if she likes the confident glint in his eye.
"How would you know?" she questions, raising her eyebrow in half-seriousness.
"I - " he suddenly looks embarrassed, "I shouldn't say-"
"Oh come on, " Maya scoffs, "It's not like I'm going to tell anyone, "
Draco seems to think it over for a few minutes before answering, "Fine, " he mutters, tone of voice, "But this stays between us, am I clear?"
"Sure, " Maya replies, smirking, suddenly liking the feeling of being the one with the power, "Now spill your secrets, Malfoy, "
He rolls his eyes at her before taking a deep breath, "I've been sneaking out with my dad's cars since I was thirteen, "
Shock fills Maya's lungs before she can take a breath.
She . . . definitely did not expect that to come out of his mouth.
"What?!" she gasps, as he shushes her, looking around wildly to see if anyone's heard, "Are you serious?!"
"Lower your voice, woman!!" he hisses, before continuing, "It's not that big of a deal-"
"Not that big of a deal?!" Maya laughs, shocked at his nonchalance, "You, you of all people just told me that-"
"It's not like you're a stickler for the rules either, Maya, " The way he surveys her makes something flip over in Maya's stomach, a smirk curling on the side of his mouth, "Didn't you literally walk out in the middle of Moody's class last year with no context?"
"He was being an asshole, " Maya says, snark going into her tone, "Guess you two have that in common, "
"Ouch, " he feigns an expression of hurt, leaning back in his seat, "You wound me, my fair lady, "
"Your fair lady?" Maya questions, scoffing. She tries to ignore the strange feeling his words send through her.
"Well I don't see you spilling all your secrets to anyone else, do I?" Something about the way those words come out of his mouth stir something inside her, something Maya's never felt before.
Fuck.
Maya suddenly remembers why she sat with him in the first place.
"I actually wanted to talk about that, " She replies, testing the waters; His expression changes to one she can't read, "About . . . what happened before break, "
There's an awkward silence before he opens his mouth, "Maya-"
"I'm used to thinking the worst of you, " Maya continues, "That's how it's been since the beginning. Every time I thought you couldn't get any worse, you did. You kept surprising me with how much of a nasty little shit you could be, always meddling and plotting things you weren't supposed to. I used to think that people were plain black or plain white. That good and evil were tangible things which you could distinguish between easily. But this past year has made me question a lot of things, and I think it's time to set the record straight, "
"What do you mean?" There's a certain, vulnerability in his tone; Draco Malfoy's grey eyes are wide and fearful. He's terrified of what I'm going to say, Maya realises, with a twinge of guilt twisting painfully in her chest.
"You proved me wrong, " She takes a deep breath, the pounding of her heart sending deep tremors through her ribcage, "Draco Malfoy, you are one of the most complex people I've ever met. There is good in you, beneath all the bigotry, and you've proven that to me. I'm not saying I agree with any of what you may believe, but given that I now know the truth about what happened, I don't think it's fair to hold it against you anymore. So . . . . . I'm forgiving you, "
There's a startled silence between them. Draco looks like he's short-circuited, his brain struggling to compute whatever synapses have gone off in his brain. He opens his mouth then closes it, repeating this until he's finally able to form coherent words.
"You said the same thing to me before, " he breathes out, something catching in Maya's stomach at how widely his eyes stare at her, "The night where you were drunk on top of the Astronomy tower. About how you're never going to figure me out because I don't fit into your perception of good or evil, "
Shock hits her like a truck; Maya remembers next to nothing about that night, and wonders, with horror, what else she might've admitted to him. Oh God. "I-I did?"
"Why are you doing this, all of a sudden?" He questions heatedly, his tone filled with panic; Maya's heart breaks with how fragile his voice sounds, "If you want something from me, just say it, "
"I don't want anything from you, why would you think that?!"
He suddenly clams up, looking extremely regretful of his earlier words, "You don't want to know, "
There's a hint of something sinister behind his words, but Maya doesn't exactly want to push him for information, considering how panicked he looks right now. She tentatively reaches out for his hand, which he accepts, the cold metal of his rings brushing against her fingers sending strange quivers down her spine.
"I don't want us to hate each other because of circumstances that were out of our control, " She says, quietly, barely able to meet his eyes due to how intense his gaze is, "So . . . if you're okay with putting the past behind us, I guess I am too, "
The wait for his response is agonising. In the seconds that it takes for him to regain his composure, Maya feels like she might die from suspense.
He looks up at her, all the pieces back in place, and directly in the eye.
"I'd like that very much "
In those six words, it feels like an entire wave of relief has just washed over her.
Maya doesn't know what they are to each other anymore, but it finally feels like her life is starting to repair itself.
Or at least, that's what she thinks until the next morning.
When Hermione's Daily Prophet arrives, she smoothes it out, gazes for a moment at the front page and gives a yelp that causes everyone in the vicinity to stare at her.
'What?' Maya questions, smearing jam and clotted cream on one of the scones that decorate her plate. She takes a bite to keep her hunger at bay.
For answer, Hermione spreads the newspaper on the table in front of them and points at ten black-and-white photographs that fill the whole of the front page, nine showing wizards' faces and the tenth, a witch's. Some of the people in the photographs are silently jeering; others are tapping their fingers on the frame of their pictures, looking insolent. Each picture is captioned with a name and the crime for which the person has been sent to Azkaban.
Antonin Dolohov, reads the legend beneath a wizard with a long, pale, twisted face, who leers up at Maya, convicted of the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett.
Algernon Rookwood, says the caption beneath a pockmarked man with greasy hair who leans against the edge of his picture, looking bored, convicted of leaking Ministry of Magic secrets to He Who Must Not Be Named.
But Maya's eyes keep getting drawn to a vaguely familiar face on the page, the one with the witch. She has long, dark hair that looks like a bird's nest. There's a glint of insanity in her heavy-lidded eyes, an arrogant, disdainful smile playing around her thin mouth. Like Sirius, she retains vestiges of great good looks, but something — perhaps Azkaban — has taken most of her beauty.
Bellatrix Lestrange, convicted of the torture and permanent capacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom, reads the caption.
Lestrange . . . why does that sound familiar?
"That's my aunt, " Diana chokes out, quiet enough for only Maya to hear, "Maya, half of these people have been at my dinner table, "
Oh fuck.
The headline reads: 'MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN: MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS 'RALLYING POINT' FOR OLD DEATH EATERS.'
'Black?' says Harry, loudly. 'Not — ?'
'Shhh!' whispers Hermione desperately. 'Not so loud — 'just read it!'
The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there has been a mass breakout from Azkaban. Speaking to reporters in his private office, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, confirmed that ten high-security prisoners escaped in the early hours of yesterday evening and that he has already informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the dangerous nature of these individuals. 'We find ourselves, most unfortunately, in the same position we were two and a half years ago when the murderer Sirius Black escaped,' said Fudge last night. 'Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this magnitude suggests outside help, and we must remember that Black, as the first person ever to break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to help others follow in his footsteps. We think it likely that these individuals, who include Black's cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, have rallied around Black as their leader. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals, and we beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached.'
'There you are, Harry,' says Ron, looking awestruck, 'That's why he was happy last night.'
'I don't believe this,' snarls Harry, 'Fudge is blaming the breakout on Sirius?'
'What other options does he have?' says Hermione bitterly. 'He can hardly say, "Sorry, everyone, Dumbledore warned me this might happen, the Azkaban guards have joined Lord Voldemort" — stop whimpering, Ron — "and now Voldemort's worst supporters have broken out, too." I mean, he's spent a good six months telling everyone you and Dumbledore are liars, hasn't he?'
Hermione rips open the newspaper and began to read the report inside while Maya peers around the Great Hall. No one looks as anxious as she feels on the inside (except maybe Diana, whose face has disappeared into her plate of pancakes). Maya feels a sick twist of revulsion in her gut as she sees her classmates laughing, joking around, talking about Quidditch and homework, unaware that their very existence is on the line.
But there seems to be someone else who shares the same sentiment as her. Over at the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy doesn't look very well. He seems oblivious to the way his classmates are laughing and jeering around him, barely eating, fork idly picking at his plate. Something about him is different today, it seems as though he's the only one who's noticed the dark cloud hanging over them all.
When he notices her looking, and their eyes meet, Maya feels an electric jolt go through her stomach. The familiarity of it is unnerving, this strange, compelling connection that they share. She gives him a curt nod and tries to turn back to her friends, but that's when the realization hits her.
Oh fuck.
Oh God.
Ada paavi.
Maya's always had the worst timing. Bizarre epiphanies in the middle of the night, crackheaded thoughts during a serious lecture from Nandini, she's never been convenient when a clock is involved. But this, this takes the cake. During a time where she should be fearing for her life, Maya has undoubtedly come to one of the scariest -- and yet most vulnerable -- conclusions of her life.
She has feelings for Draco Malfoy.
It should be terrifying. It should be making her want to scream and run, alarm bells ringing in her head. But somehow, Maya can't bring herself to do anything but quietly look down at her plate, unfamiliar feelings stewing inside her stomach.
She likes him. She likes him, a lot. His sarcastic (yet somehow endearing) personality has rubbed off of her and made her grow fond of his presence. And his looks don't hurt either, with how many times she's caught herself staring and been forced to pull away.
Goddamn it, Tessa was right.
Maya loves mysteries, especially ones that she can't solve. Her drive to succeed is almost unparalleled, obsessive, even. Draco Malfoy, however different they may appear on the surface, seems to check all the boxes for her.
And Maya doesn't know how she should feel about what she's managed to unearth thus far.
'Oh my — ' says Hermione wonderingly, still staring at the newspaper, breaking Maya out of her trance.
'What now?' says Harry quickly; Maya feels a deadly sense of foreboding creeping up her neck.
'It's . . . horrible,' says Hermione, looking shaken. She folds back page ten of the newspaper and hands it to the four of them.
TRAGIC DEMISE OF MINISTRY OF MAGIC WORKER
St Mungo's Hospital promised a full inquiry last night after Ministry of Magic worker Broderich Bode, 49, was discovered dead in his bed, strangled by a pot plant. Healers called to the scene were unable to revive Mr Bode, who had been injured in a workplace accident some weeks prior to his death. Healer Miriam Strout, who was in charge of Mr Bodes ward at the time of the incident, has been suspended on full pay and was unavailable for comment yesterday, but a spokeswizard for the hospital said in a statement: 'St Mungo's deeply regrets the death of Mr Bode, whose health was improving steadily prior to this tragic accident. 'We have strict guidelines on the decorations permitted on our wards but it appears that Healer Strout, busy over the Christmas period, overlooked the dangers of the plant on Mr Bode's bedside table. As his speech and mobility improved, Healer Strout encouraged Mr Bode to look after the plant himself, unaware that it was not an innocent Flitterbloom, but a cutting of Devil's Snare which, when touched by the convalescent Mr Bode, throttled him instantly. St Mungo's is as yet unable to account for the presence of the plant on the ward and asks any witch or wizard with information to come forward.'
'Bode . . .' says Ron. 'Bode. It rings a bell . . .'
'We saw him,' Hermione whispers, 'In St Mungo's, remember? He was in the bed opposite Lockhart's, just lying there, staring at the ceiling. And we saw the Devil's Snare arrive. She — the Healer — said it was a Christmas present.'
'By the Angel, ' Maya whispers, horror sinking into her stomach.
This can't be good.
'How come we didn't recognise Devil's Snare? We've seen it before . . . we could've stopped this from happening.' Harry says, sharply.
'Who expects Devil's Snare to turn up in a hospital disguised as a pot plant?' says Ron, the tone of his voice sounding miserable. 'It's not our fault, whoever sent it to the bloke is to blame! They must be a real prat, why didn't they check what they were buying?'
'I don't think anyone would put The Devil's Snare in a pot and not realize it was lethal, " Diana mutters, grip tightening on her fork.
Hermione speaks up in a trembling voice, 'This — this was murder . . . a clever murder, as well . . . if the plant was sent anonymously, how's anyone ever going to find out who did it?'
'I met Bode,' says Harry to Ron, slowly 'I saw him at the Ministry with your dad.'
Ron's mouth falls open. 'I've heard Dad talk about him at home! He was an Unspeakable ' — he worked in the Department of Mysteries!'
They look at each other for a moment, then Hermione pulls the newspaper back towards her, closes it, glares for a moment at the pictures of the ten escaped Death Eaters on the front, then leaps to her feet.
'Where are you going?' says Ron, startled.
'To send a letter,' says Hermione, swinging her bag on to her shoulder. 'It . . . well, I don't know whether . . . but it's worth trying . . . and I'm the only one who can.'
'I hate it when she does that,' grumbles Ron, as the rest of them get to their feet and walk at a much slower place out of the Great Hall 'Would it kill her to tell us what she's up to for once? It'd take her about ten more seconds than usual, "
"Oh come on, Ron, " Diana scoffs, wrapping an arm around Maya's shoulder, "We're talking about Hermione Granger, you prat. When has her brain ever worked at the same speed as ours?"
"You look pale, Maya, " observes Harry, as Maya swallows, nervously, "Are you sure you're alright?"
It feels like someone's poured a pensieve down her throat, memories from her early childhood in England swirling around inside her throat. Maya suddenly remembers a quote Nandini had read to her as a child, from the great civil rights activist Martin Luther King Jr.
"We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope"
Maya wonders if her attraction to the Walmart Elsa currently sitting at the Slytherin table is the Universe's way of telling her not to lose morale.
ahhhh and there we have it! only five chapters left until the end of act two! wdyt about maya forgiving draco? did he deserve it, or do you think hse's being too lenient? and what's going to happen after the department of mysteries? will the shadow world be rocked by the arrival of one of it's greatest enemies? only time will tell. can't promise when the next update will be because i'm currently having some issues on the technical side, but stay safe, stay social distanced, and have a great day!!
-- xoxo, disha