𝑆𝐴𝑉𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐷𝑅𝐴𝐶𝑂 𝑀𝐴𝐿𝐹𝑂𝑌

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟏 - 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐠𝐮𝐲

╭────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────╮

This one is also kind of long...
Also, listen to the song when it comes in.

⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼

𝐎

September 27th, 1996

Dear Margot,

Things are moving slowly here in Hogwarts, and the rush with which the year started has already faded out. I am silently watching the world moving around me while I lay still.

Okay, let's find some news to write... I got an Outstanding on a pop quiz in Potions today. Slughorn seems to like me, although it's difficult to like a student when Harry is in the same class. He is acing Potions nowadays. In any case, Slughorn usually arranges gatherings and parties in which only some selected students can attend to. He said he would' gladly see Phineas' daughter in his next Slug Party'. I am not entirely thrilled by the idea. I would rather make someone admire me for my own skills. Now all he sees is my father.

Today I also went to the Forbidden Forest. I had missed Buckbeak. My heart always aches when I see him in chains. Whenever dusk approaches and everyone is eating dinner, I like freeing him for a few minutes and letting him fly me over the grounds. But this time it was only noon and I had to be back before my free period ended. Maybe tomorrow will be the day he flies again.

What else...

Well, for a lack of anything more interesting to say, it seems that every last, insignificant hope – friendly hope, I must add (otherwise, I will soon forget!) – I might have had with Malfoy, died out in the span of a couple of weeks. He never made an attempt to get in some kind of touch with me again after that walk, he never looks in my general direction and seems to have forgotten that he borrowed my book. I keep reminding myself that I wished for such a turn of events...

I hadn't finished the sentence when Malfoy slammed my book on the table before me. He looked pale even for himself and his eyes were swollen and bloodshot red. It might have been insomnia; it might have been tears. Before I could respond properly he had walked away.

Good, I thought, at least I got my book back and now we can put things to rest.

I sat stubbornly in my frozen state, grumpy and unable to find a way to my previous train of thought. Eventually, I opened the book but only because I didn't have anything better to do with my hands. I flipped a couple of pages and stumbled upon chapter 35, on some right page.

I caught the glimpse of the left page; page 236. Chapter 34 had ended with two paragraphs that only took one third of the page. Below the end of the chapter, on the free space with the yellowish tint and on a scribbled handwriting that certainly wasn't mine, there sat a poem.

I asked the moon for some advice but before she could answer, she was lost in her circle

I waited two days and two nights till she appeared again, narrow and thin, up in the sky

I asked the moon for some advice and she said I have to do the right thing

Only life is a chaos and before I found that right, the moon was gone again, lost in her circle.