WORD COUNT [1506]
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There was a week left of holidays before Lorraine would be free from the prison that was Malfoy Manor. Voldemort had chosen the Manor as his headquarters for the death eaters, which meant she was surrounded by murderers every second of every day. So far, she had managed to avoid most meetings that were held, but that day—Monday—was one where she could not escape a meeting, for it was specifically for her.
"My dear Lorraine," Voldemort breathed out, arms wide open as she approached him and let him embrace her. "The epitome of beauty. How are you, my dear?"
"I'm well, my Lord. Thank you," she said emotionlessly, leaving his embrace to sit at the chair to the right of Voldemort's. His was, expectedly, the head of the table.
He sat and watched her for a moment before he explained himself to her. "As you know, your task is to report back to me about Harry Potter's plans this year," he began. "You are also to assist Draco as we have plans for him to be officially added to our ranks in August of next year."
Lorraine expected it. She knew her friend would be burdened with the mark eventually, but it felt all too surreal hearing it from Voldemort's mouth. She could only nod.
"Your parents are not as observant as you...not as perfect for this task. Not as perfect as you are for me. I know that you'll be able to maintain weekly updates on both Potter and Draco. And I know that you have a plan that will put them to shame. Getting close to that Weasley boy is smart, my dear. I see it succeeding without an issue."
Lorraine forced a smile, wondering how on Earth the Dark Lord had more faith in her than her own parents. "Thank you, my Lord."
"Lorraine!" Draco called, peering into the dining room where she was with Voldemort. In his hands were two letters with Hogwarts' wax seal. She stood and tucked her chair in, bowing before Voldemort before leaving the room.
"What is it?" she asked quietly, taking the letter addressed to her. She broke off the wax seal and took the letter out.
"I don't yet," Draco whispered excitedly, tearing his letter open and reading the words quickly. "I'm a prefect!"
Lorraine grinned and hugged her friend before reading her own letter. Her smile widened when she read the words.
Dear Lorraine,
It is with my pleasure that I welcome you to the Hufflepuff prefects! Information will be given on this important role in the prefect carriage, so ensure you're there!
Madam Sprout
"Me too," she whispered. Draco was the one to hug her then and they both let out quiet laughs. "I'm so..." she trailed off, eyes glazing over as she thought of what had occurred just a few months ago. Cedric was a prefect. Who would replace him?
How could he be replaced?
She would've been joining him if he were still alive. Yet he wasn't.
"He would be proud," Draco said gently, smiling reassuringly at her. She smiled back.
"I think so, too. You know...I was thinking about joining the Quidditch team. Cedric always wanted me to join. He loved it," Lorraine explained quietly.
"I think that's a great idea. Now we'll get to verse each other."
She smirked and rolled her eyes, "I'm not in the team yet, you idiot. And we both know I'd win anyway."
Draco scoffed playfully and shook his head, "You're so wrong, Lorraine."
"We'll see," she mused, patting his cheek lightly before walking up the stairs to her room. She had changed the room a lot, which wasn't a pleasant sight for her parents, but Narcissa liked the change, so she kept it.
Instead of just an empty green room with nothing but a bed, Lorraine had bought a plethora of furniture that would suit her much better while making the living quarters more homey. She needed homey.
She had painted her walls a shade of red that strongly resembled that of Gryffindor and her bedsheets were changed to darker red also. She was unsure if the colour change was due to a certain trio, but it comforted her nonetheless. Along with that, she had gotten a generously large closet where she kept her dresses and school uniforms and placed it up against her left wall. In the back right corner was an area strictly for Dalnim filled with all kinds of toys a cat would like along with a few beds and blankets scattered around.
Just off-centre was a small living area with a couch, armchair, and coffee table that was closer to the front wall where there was a fireplace. An intricate chandelier hung down from the centre of the roof, enveloping her room in a gentle light that comforted her. Lastly, up against the right wall was a desk that she used mostly for writing letters to Ron and Hermione. Harry didn't really reply much and Ron hadn't replied at all, but she kept trying.
Voldemort had approved of her sending the letters, having been convinced that she really was doing it for his benefit. She didn't blame him—she hadn't shown any sign of rebelling and her Occlumency skills were good enough to avoid suspicion. He didn't know her like her parents did and they knew something was wrong.
The only drawback was that he read every single letter.
Lorraine approached the desk and sat at the chair placed in front of it. Sleeping on the hardwood was Dalnim. Lorraine had a slight inkling that the beloved creature spent so much time on the desk in order to protect her letters, but it was hopeless against Voldemort.
"How do you think Dotty's doing?" Lorraine whispered rhetorically, staring thoughtfully at the blank piece of paper in front of her. She would've written to Dotty, but death eaters were adamant that house elves were nothing but slaves. Writing to her was off-limits unless she wanted to be suspiciously compassionate.
With a quiet hum, she brushed off the thought and grabbed her quill. Tentatively, she dipped the tip in her favourite gold ink and pressed it to the top of the blank paper, writing the words: 'Dear, Ron.'
Lorraine didn't know what to say after that. She wanted to say so many things, but she was never good with her feelings and living with death eaters certainly made writing to Ron difficult.
'I have so much that I wish to say. For one, I hope you and your family are safe and well. Hermione has told me that you haven't written to her yet—please do. She misses you. I miss you, too. I can't wait to see you for our fifth year now! Has anything exciting happened? I got Hufflepuff Prefect—that's exciting, isn't it? I'm pretty confident you got Prefect, too!'
Lorraine cringed as she read through her words. "I'm awful," she whined. "Look at me, Dalnim! I'm a sap!"
Dalnim did not wake up and Lorraine smiled softly as she saw the cat's whiskers twitch briefly. The only way she could get her to wake up was by flaunting a treat in front of her nose, and even then it took a while.
"I'm a sap and I like it," she whispered--as if it were some secret, which it was when it was being spoken inside the Malfoy Manor. She liked it and it scared her. She had never felt so unsure of her feelings before. Why should she like it? Why does she like it?
It was times like that when Lorraine found herself longing for parents that were supportive and actually cared about her. Such a shame that she was gifted with one of the worst. She scowled at the thought. Ron has lovely parents, she thought bitterly. Why can't I have gotten parents like them?
She had learnt more about herself through her newfound friends than she had ever learnt from her parents. She actually loved the colour red and she had a habit of caring a little too much on most occasions, but she liked it because it felt good. When she had zero opportunity to express care growing up, it was a relief to feel safe enough to feel such vulnerable feelings when she arrived at Hogwarts.
But the most important thing she discovered about herself was that she was not like her parents. And that meant more to her than anything in the world.
With a content sigh, Lorraine brought the tip of her quill back onto the paper and finished the letter off.
'I won't bore you any longer. I know your attention span is abysmal. I look forward to seeing you on the train where you can tell me all about your break.'
She pursed her lips as she thought over how to sign off the letter. She had thought to write 'from', but she felt that was too bland. 'Love' was much too intimate.
"Love from?" Lorraine asked herself quietly, biting the inside of her cheek as she mulled it over. "Ron won't think it's weird, right...? No. No, I don't think so."
With a roll of her eyes, she signed off the letter.
'Love from, Lorraine.'