(Y/N) didn't even need to be invited to Harry's next Quidditch game; she was there, although she felt obliged to cheer for Slytherin. Gryffindor went home with the cup, much to her concealed delight, and then it felt like the year began to speed by. The Golden Trio were constantly busy with Buckbeak's case (the poor creature was condemned by that vile rat Malfoy), and so she found herself sinking back into the reading regime she'd been following before she came to Hogwarts. Which was, really, to simply do nothing but read; in the corridors, at meals, everywhere. But there was one major difference.
She didn't have someone reading over her shoulder back at home.
While he may have been leaving her alone in the way of arguments after the Quidditch supporting tussle, (Y/N) constantly felt Draco's presence behind her, subtly looking over and reading the odd line from her book, obviously too haughty to come over and ask about it. She'd already forgiven him for the last big issue (although he didn't know that), and, as her friends were constantly busy with this that or the other, she was rather lonely. She wouldn't have minded his company; hell, when he wasn't being argumentative, he was even relatively nice to be around, and she sure as sugar wanted to be around him. She'd admitted how much she liked him all the way back at Christmas, and he'd kissed her the year before on the train...the poor girl felt like she was going to burst if he didn't make contact with her. It was on one of these strangely lonely weekend days that she finally racked up the courage to ask, ''Hey, uh, do you want to read it with me? I mean, you keep on watching me read over your shoulder, so...'' She was met with a huff of disgust. ''Me, read with Furball Weasley? What do you think I am, a demented little child?'' (Y/N) rolled her eyes, muttering, ''Okay, do what you want...'' and going back to her book. Days began to pass, she lost sleep over being almost positive she heard a werewolf...and then, suddenly, the end of the year was upon them.
There were only two days left, and on the former of these days, she received a letter from her father. One that made her gasp in happiness.
''Dearest daughter!
I've been in correspondence with one of your friends for a couple of weeks (lovely boy, if I may say so), and, although I would usually decide against letting such traitorous people look after you, it appears to be the will of the world to let this happen.
I've already sent an owl to the Malfoys telling them about the change of plans, and I've sent dear old Aphrodite over to the Weasleys telling them you'd be more than happy to accept their son's kind offer of looking after you.
Yours truly, absolutely,
C. Silverlie''
She smiled happily, even making a happy noise as she read her father's letter (he was always one to be swayed by 'fate'), getting even happier after she realised that he had at least some level of liking towards a family he had but two years ago called 'blood traitors' every other week. She immediately ran from her bedroom to try and thank Ron profusely; it took her a second to realise she could probably just find him in the Great Hall. She did. He spotted the (h/c) girl in the tiny crowd of people almost immediately, mostly because of her hastily thrown on, rather 'unusual' looking jumper. ''Hey, (Y/N), what did he say?'' She ran over at top speed, panting like a dog within seconds, ''He said yes! I don't know how you managed to convince him, but he said yes!'' All three friends looked very pleased at this revelation. ''So...that means I can visit your manor now, right?'' (Y/N) rolled her eyes, blushing at Harry and Hermione's now very interested expressions. ''Yep, I guess you can, but it isn't very interesting. It'll just be me, Amorita and Wisp there; you have all of your siblings to spend the summer with—'' Ron didn't look at all upset by the 'it'll be boring' aspect; neither did the other two, for that matter. ''I suppose you have a lot of expensive textbooks and things laying around if you live in a manor, (Y/N). I could learn so much from books I haven't yet got—'' (Y/N) nodded, mumbling with a smirk, ''Father's away, so my manor's pretty much free real estate for me.'' She couldn't help but notice Harry's slightly downtrodden expression; she decided to change the subject. ''Hey, uh, what happened with Black after all? I heard a lot of rumours about you three but—'' Harry lit up like a Christmas light with expensive new batteries. ''It's a long story, but he's innocent, and he's my godfather. He even said he might save me from the Dursleys...'' (Y/N) listened intently as he detailed every single thing that happened, including the fact that Black was the one who gave him the godsend that was his Firebolt, and she truly was happy that he had someone he could call real family now. Seconds after he finished, Amorita sprung from seemingly nowhere, along with Hermione's cat, Crookshanks. The two looked like they'd just come back from some intense mission in the depths of the castle. ''There you are, Crookshanks!'' Exclaimed Hermione as she picked up her pet from the floor. Amorita, who looked deeply annoyed about having her friend stolen, jumped up onto (Y/N)'s shoulder and made a rather angry looking face at Hermione, somehow. She sighed and then said, ''Well, now that my guardian arrangements are sorted out, I may as well go and start packing.'' After managing to drag Amorita away from Crookshanks hissing and spitting, she got back to her dormitory and stuffed as much as she could into one case, sighing as she had to go for another one from the cupboard. She kept a copy of one of her books about the dormitory to read on the train the next day, and then spent the rest of her day trying to get her things together. It felt like it took all day, as she rolled into bed early that night and was asleep almost instantly.
The next day was rather uneventful, other than Amorita deciding for a couple of minutes that it was absolutely vital that she stayed close to Hermione, purely because her clothes had the faintest smell of Crookshanks. A lot of sweets were purchased, and it felt like even more were eaten, and then in the blink of an eye, they were at the station. ''Owl me, Harry, Hermione!'' exclaimed Ron, to which his friends happily ensured that they would; (Y/N) was led after Ron, almost tripping over her own feet. Amorita actually looked incredibly happy for once as she sat on her dear owner's shoulder; she was a little wary of the large group of gingers trying to speak to her, but after she recognised Ginny and the twins, she felt safe. ''Your father has already given me your address, sweetheart, but are you sure you're fine by yourself?'' Asked Mrs. Weasley kindly, her motherly instincts obviously kicking in. ''No, I'm perfectly fine! I have Wisp at home anyway, and my father sends constant letters.'' She still didn't look quite convinced, but she didn't ask anything more. Instead, it was Ron who spoke up; ''You're letting me into your manor at some point this holiday, right?'' This notion was, of course, approved by (Y/N). She was back at her manor almost immediately (oh, the joys of the Floo Network), and, after promising Mrs. Weasley that she'd ''write if she needed anything'', ''write if she had any problems'' and ''write if she wanted some company in that large house of hers'', she gestured to Wisp that it was okay to stop cowering behind one of the chairs now. Amorita jumped from her owner's shoulder, stretching and falling asleep on the familiar old carpet. The table was covered in her father's things that were likely either unsuitable or simply didn't fit in his case; the odd book, a very old looking blue and bronze scarf, a couple of strange jars of who knows what...(Y/N) tried her best to find homes for all of these things, but there was simply too much of it, so some ended up staying firmly on the floor for most of the summer. The odd few things were moved around or 'borrowed' (apparently some of the jars contained things that would be 'absolutely brilliant' to use in magical sweets), but it was an organised mess overall. That summer was rather quiet (except for the odd incident with, again, magical sweets from Fred and George), so (Y/N), Wisp and Amorita found themselves feeling like they were three years younger again, sitting in the kitchen and waiting for the adults to return home.
It was early morning and (Y/N) found herself reading the paper that someone had delivered to her completely by mistake, talking with her mouth partially full of toast to Wisp about the headlines and so. ''Merlin, it's going to be hectic around here soon...'' she mumbled to herself, and she got a confused look from Wisp in return. ''Apparently the Quidditch World Cup is on towards the end of this holiday. I heard Ron mention it, but I wasn't too sure if I misheard him or not...'' She rambled to herself for a second or so, finishing her toast and running off to the cupboard. It was almost inevitable that her father would send her tickets for such a momentous event, and so she was making sure the tent they used to use back when they'd go on weekend trips together was still around. She didn't have to search for long before Wisp said in her usual hushed tone, ''It's in the middle on the left, miss.'' (Y/N) yelled back, ''AHA!'' seconds later, and then came out of the cupboard dragging a rather grand looking tent set. After managing to drag it into the kitchen and destroy a few glass jars in her wake, she decided she was proud of herself and went to scribble a letter to her father; the rest of the day was quiet. Too quiet. Without thinking twice, she sent letters to a few more people just to ease her boredom; and then she read for a bit, but she found her mind wandering back to her dorm room all the time. She was so used to hearing a voice tell her it was 'stupid Muggle literature'...so used to having someone read over her shoulder...so used to, well, Draco being there.
'Merlin, I'm worse than Pansy now!'
She mentally slapped herself and fell back, letting her book fall open on her face, illegible and light-blocking, for a solid five minutes while she groaned. The door creaked slowly open, and there stood Wisp; ''Hello, mistress,'' she said quietly, ''Are you lonely? You could owl for Mr. Weasley to visit if you'd like, or Miss Granger...I like Miss Granger a lot...'' (Y/N) sighed, replying, ''I s'pose I haven't seen 'Mione in a while. But...ugh...'' She rolled over into her pillow, her book falling to the ground. Wisp fidgeted a little, desperately wanting (Y/N) to owl Hermione (she so loved to see her mistress connect with another bookworm), but stayed quiet in the doorway. With a groggy, slow movement, (Y/N) grabbed some parchment and scribbled yet another message about 'visiting soon'; one for Hermione, and one for Ron. She knew Harry would be unavailable; she'd tried the 'telephone' before, and had ended up in a rather heated argument about broom cupboards and welfare. His aunt and uncle didn't let him out anyway (poor creature), and she didn't want to argue again. Wisp disappeared as quietly as her name implied. The day continued quietly on the outside, but all day inside (Y/N)'s head, she was in the noisy Slytherin dormitories late at night, reading; Pansy had disappeared from existence, it was warm, the perfect temperature for romantic confessions and kisses by the firelight with him...he'd let her comb her fingers through that beautiful platinum blonde hair of his...
''(Y/N) Parkin—Silverlie!'' she yelled aloud, ''He wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole if it would save his life!''
It was early morning by the time (Y/N) started yelling, and poor Wisp flittered in in a tizzy, armed with a grapefruit spoon and an ornamental rose. ''Mistress, who's—'' she sighed in relief upon realising that it was just her mistress yelling at herself, as she often did when her thoughts drifted to Draco Malfoy. Wisp smiled politely, excusing herself to 'make breakfast'. In reality, she was scribbling something in her notebook given to her by (Y/N)'s father. She did actually make breakfast as well, but by that time, Hermione and Ron had arrived. Wisp greeted them courteously, ''Good morning, Miss Granger, Mr Weasley,'' she smiled a little, ''Mistress Silverlie is just...upstairs.''
Upon hearing her name, she threw on some stupid Quidditch jersey from years ago along with the same skirt she wore yesterday and bolted downstairs, hair unbrushed and in tangles. ''Hi,'' she exclaimed, as exasperated as poor Isobel at Christmas, ''You're early!'' She gestured at two spare chairs on the table. They took them happily, and Hermione mused, ''So this is what a Pureblooded magical home looks like...'' Ron scowled at her, as she'd obviously visited his, and (Y/N) laughed lightly. The three spent the rest of the day doing...well, not much, but there was a lot of talk about the Quidditch World Cup; musings about who'd win, and a whole lot about Viktor Krum. Wisp poked her head in a few hours in, and mumbled, ''Mistress Silverlie, you have a letter. And Amorita tried to kill the owl...'' With a sigh, she took the letter from Wisp's wrinkly hands and read it over. She slipped it in her pocket to read later, but Ron caught sight of the sender even though (Y/N) tried to hide it. ''I wasn't aware Malfoy sent you stuff! Did you make a stupid mistake and say how you—'' through a deep magenta blush, she managed to say no, and hid the letter. ''No,'' she huffed, ''It's a banquet invitation. Narcissa Malfoy and my father are good friends, after all...'' Neither Ron nor Hermione seemed pleased about this; they still weren't sure of how she could like such a horrible person, or why her father could, for that matter. The rest of the day continued as normal from there, but (Y/N)'s mind was truly on the letter. Just seeing his name made her heart flutter.
Merlin, she'd fallen far too deep.