DRACO
The weekend had finally started, and I was on my way to the great hall with Crabbe and Goyle for breakfast.
As usual, there were a lot of people and a lot of noise. And it was annoying.
"Hey, watch where you're going!" Just as we entered the hall, someone, maybe from first year, bumped into Goyle and he pushed a freckled boy with big eyes back, looking at him with a wild, menacing look that made the little Hufflepuff stumble back.
When we finally reached our table, I could hear the conversation about the upcoming ball, which had been going on for the past few days, as if nothing else existed.
I rolled my eyes and turned off my hearing, lost in thought, because I was fed up with all this, and I hadn't even invited anyone yet — I was not interested.
A few minutes later, I heard a hum and packages and letters delivered by owls began to fall on the table.
I didn't even look up, because I knew there was nothing for me. My parents never sent me letters or packages when I was at Hogwarts, but when we were younger, we were excited and impatient for Crabbe to open his package, because his mother always sent him something. And that time was no exception.
Nothing had changed, and his mother still indulged him with her attention, which was shown in the form of various gifts and cute letters in which she wrote how much she missed him. But we had changed. Or at least me. I didn't care anymore.
"Okay, let's get out of here." I said and got up to go to the common room, after a few minutes of pointless talks.
I hated the fun and joy that seeped through every person in the form of loud laughter and enthusiastic conversations, especially when Christmas was approaching — decorations all over the school, music, cheerful whistles, and snowflakes falling from the ceiling were hateful to me.
"Wait," Crabbe stared at the other end of the table, where the package lay untouched.
It was Sombrey's seat and she wasn't there again.
"Are you her porter?" I asked him, as he picked up the package and caught up with us at the exit.
It was big enough, wrapped in dark grey paper and tied with a silver ribbon.
I noticed that it was dripping with glitter and I laughed when I saw Crabbe's sweater shimmered.
He followed my gaze then and, noticing what I was laughing at, held out his hand with the package in front of him.
"Why are there so many sequins? Does anyone really like it?" He was outraged and seemed to regret taking it. But when it came to Violet, he almost blew a speck of dust off her, but it was all in vain. She was cold and unapproachable, and treated poor Crabbe only as a friend.
"I think it was assumed that it would reach the recipient directly, and not through intermediaries. Girls probably love this stuff. Like sequins, ribbons." Goyle said and moved aside when Crabbe began to shake the sequins off his sweater.
Maybe some girls liked that kind of thing, but Violet wasn't like one of them.
We were lucky, because when we entered the common room, Violet was sitting on the couch, staring blankly into the fireplace. She didn't even look at us as we entered the room and came to her.
"You missed breakfast." Crabbe said carefully, rolling from his toes to his heels, an expression of awkwardness on his face — we could never know what kind of mood Violet would be in when the new day came.
"I'm not hungry." Her low voice was almost inaudible and she was still looking at the fire, hugging her knees.
We stopped by the couch where she was sitting, waiting for her to say something else, or to notice the package in Crabbe's hands, but she remained silent, and she continued to stare at the fire, which cast dancing, fluttering shadows on her pale face.
"Okay... well, there's a package for you." He handed it to her slowly, pursing his lips slightly — he was probably upset because of her bad mood.
Violet jerked her head up, looking at the package in his hand, and got up from the couch.
For the first time that day I saw her face not in profile and noticed dark circles under her drooping, exhausted eyes.
It was all very strange, but not surprising — when it came to Violet, there was always something strange.
"You're sitting here, relaxing, and we have to carry your packages, right? Look at his sweater and his hands. Everything is spoiled by stupid glitter." I wanted to get a word out of her, some emotion, but all I got was a look filled with some kind of sadness and anguish when she looked from her bundle to me. And no emotion, and no words.
"Thank you," She smiled at Crabbe, taking the shiny thing from his hand as she headed for the stairs but before she stepped on the first step, she turned to face me, "Stay away from me today, Malfoy." She spoke almost threateningly, and turning away, she walked quickly up the stairs, leaving us in a silence that was soon broken by the slam of her door.
VIOLET
I sat down on the bed, my heart pounding, and placed the package in front of me, untied the ribbon, letting spangles fell on the bed cover.
As I unfolded the paper I saw something that looked like a dress. And there was a letter on it, that took all my attention. I put the dress aside and picked up a piece of paper, recognizing my father's handwriting.
Normally, I would have been happy that he wrote me something, but that day it was difficult for me. That day, as I sat with the letter in my hand, I looked at it with a slight anxiety, as if my breath would stop as soon as I started to read. And It took me a few seconds to collect my thoughts before I finally found the strength to see everything my father had written.
Hello, Violet.
I hope you're doing well. I just wanted to say that I'm glad you have the opportunity to attend the ball and relax a little. I'm sure you'll have a good time.
By the way, I don't know how you're feeling right now, but I can assume it's not very good. I know that today is the...
I folded the letter in half after that line. It was harder than I thought. My nose was beginning to sting with the urge to cry, but I restrained myself, because I wasn't alone in the room and crying in front of someone was not something I needed.
"Come on, it's just a letter, it's okay." I spoke to myself to soothe the stabbing pain in my heart, and with two deep breaths I continued reading.
I know that today is the first anniversary of her death. And believe me, it's just as hard for me as it is for you. But please, don't torture yourself.
I can assume that mom didn't tell you about the ball, and I'm sorry I didn't either.
Your aunt Mariel helped me choose this dress for you.
I hope it fits.
Have a good time.
Dad.
As soon as my eyes fell on the last dot in that letter, I put the letter in the nightstand, between the books, and picked up the dress. I felt I needed to distract myself from replaying the lines of the letter in my head. The beginning of that day had already sucked, but I desperately refused to cry.
"A dress? Show me! Show me!" Kristen, who was absolutely silent while I was reading, ran over to me and sat on my bed with excitement in her face.
She touched the fabric of my dress and I saw the delight in her eyes, because fashion and cool clothes were her favorite things, I think, along with travel and the attention that others gave her.
But the dress was really good.
Dark blue with bows on thin straps and the bodice was decorated with sequins of the same color.
I didn't know much about materials and fabrics but it was something beautiful and smooth. Not too lush and not too straight. Suit me.
"I can't wait to see you in it." She spoke softly, running her hand gently over the fabric, an expression of understatement on her face.
Her gaze was focused on my dress as her hand continued to run erratically over the shiny material, she was thoughtful, her eyes were blank, it meant that she was about to say or ask something, and I waited, my heart sinking, ready for her flood of questions about the letter.
She was a good friend to me, we slowly got to know each other, and in the almost four months that I knew her, I could tell that I was already attached to her. I was inspired by her strength of spirit, I admired her positivity, sociability, dreaminess, curiosity, thirst for adventure, love of discovering something new-Kristen was a versatile and interesting person, with a deep soul and a bright life, unlike mine, which she did not know about yet.
"I saw you reading the letter and I thought you were upset. Is everything okay?" She finally asked, still looking at me with the same softness in her honey-colored eyes.
"I'm fine, everything is okay." I wheezed, smiling at her, even though a real storm was raging inside me — I was not fine and nothing was okay.
"Violet, I can see—" She paused, looking at me pleadingly, her eyes filled with a desperate desire to know something, at least anything about me.
"Everything is alright. I just miss home, my father... I've never left home for such a long time." I said evasively, averting my gaze from her intense eyes.
I knew it probably hurt her that I didn't tell her anything about myself, because she didn't think I trusted her enough. And I thought that was why she was telling me everything about herself and her life, to let me know that we could trust each other. But it wasn't something I was used to; there were only three people in my life before I went to Hogwarts, and sharing something wasn't our tradition.
"Where did you study then, if four months away from home is too much for you?"
"I had some sort of home schooling, because my mother was always overprotective." I decided to start opening up to her from afar, without spilling out all my strange and probably slightly shocking aspects of life.
Kristen perked up and looked up at me, her eyes once again filled with interest and curiosity.
"And what's changed this year?"
"She died. A year ago today."
Her face was like an open book, and her every emotion was incredibly easy to understand. The moment the words about my mother's death left my lips, a look of sympathy immediately appeared on her face — her eyes widened, her plump lips parted, and she seemed to stop breathing for a while.
"I'm so sorry, Violet. I apologize for being so insistent."
"Don't." I said with a faint smile and got up from the bed, having a strong desire to get some fresh air — I'd only told her two things from my past life, and already I felt like I was suffocating, and it was hard to imagine what it would be like if I told her everything.
DRACO
Later that day, I was standing around the corner of the astronomy tower, with a big snowball in my hand, ready to throw it at Crabbe.
Sometimes we did such childish things, but only when we had absolutely nothing to do, like it was that day, when almost everyone was so busy with approaching Christmas and the Yule Ball.
It was a clear winter day outside, the frost stinging our cheeks, the snow crunching, and we weren't the only ones who seemed to want to escape the hustle and bustle of Hogwarts.
I heard the crunch of snow getting louder and louder, and I raised my hand, ready to attack.
As soon as Crabbe came around the corner, I threw snow at him, intending to laugh, because I knew perfectly well how funny Crabbe's face looked when it collided with an unexpected snowball, but the laughter stuck in my throat, because instead of my friend's funny face, I saw Violet's annoyed face — she looked like she was ready to hex me.
"What do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" She spoke slowly, after taking a deep breath, her voice filled with cold fury.
Her face, hair, and coat were covered in snow, which she began to shake off with sharp movements.
"I didn't mean to throw it at you, it was supposed to be Crabbe." I said, and followed her as she started walking towards the dungeon.
"Yeah, sure..." She said sarcastically, pushing the remaining snow off her shoulders. I noticed her fingers and cheeks were red, and I wondered what she was doing outside on such a cold day — everyone knew she hated winter and cold.
"What was in the package? Who sent it? Why did you—"
"Back off me." She said sullenly, peering over my shoulder as I started to walk in front of her, backwards.
"Are you always this prickly?"
"Are you always this oaf?"
I laughed then, and for a few seconds there was a silence that was somehow oppressive and deafening, despite the creaking of the snow under our feet.
She avoided eye contact with me in every possible way, looking down on her feet or to either side, and all the time I was facing her, her brows were furrowed.
"Are you still mad at me for that snowball?"
"No, it was really nice, maybe do it again?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm again, and she grimaced, forcing an insincere smile.
Suddenly, her hands grabbed me by the sleeves, pulling me toward her, and it took me a good few seconds to realize that I almost bumped into some little girl who was standing with her back to us.
"You'd better watch your way before you cripple everyone."
She was so close that I could see that her lashes were clumped together and still wet from the snow, her icy irises were only thin rims, giving way to dilated pupils in which I now saw only myself. I could feel something strange and unfamiliar rising in my chest as her face was still only inches away from mine, her hands still gripping my sleeves, her eyes completely engulfing me, and she must have felt the same thing, because the next moment, she pulled away abruptly, pulling her displeased expression back on her face.
"Leave me alone."
"But can't you see? I stayed away from you, just like you asked."
"It took at most half an hour," With a roll of her eyes, she walked past me, not forgetting to brush my shoulder, "And anyway, it's a little surprising, isn't it?"
With that, and the last mocking look she gave me, she left, the snow crunching under her feet; small white dots rapidly fell on her shoulders and stood out against her black hair — I didn't even notice it was snowing again.