The Deeper you Dig, The Darker it Gets

67.

Malory's POV

     We've been in Cokeworth for almost a week. Not only are we completely lost on where to search for the next horcrux, but Snape told us to lay low after everything that happened at the Casino. I'm not complaining though, it's a much needed break from chaos.

            "What're you reading?" Draco asks while sitting beside me on the sofa.

      I lean the cover back for him to see and a smile grows on his face.

           "This will forever be my favorite gift." I say while staring down at the limited edition.

             "I know, I'm pretty great." He sighs as he rests his arm across my shoulders.

      I start to read once again but then notice him peeking over my shoulder and stop. I make eye contact with him and he raises an eyebrow.

                     "What? I'm trying to understand." He huffs.

       I roll my eyes and he crosses his arms, dramatically.

                "Maybe you should read it then..." I sigh.

        He stares at me for a long moment, then places a kiss on my forehead. "Someday I will."

      When he gets up I watch as he goes over to the kitchen and attempts to steal a cookie from Snape's plate. He's almost successful.

             "You're a menace." Snape hisses while slapping his hand away.

     Draco gives him a filthy glare while dropping into one of the chairs beside Aary. She offers him an apple and immediately his mood changes. I laugh under my breath and go back to reading.

                     "Mal, your food is getting cold." Blaise hollers.

      I hold my pointer finger up and finish reading the rest of my page, then close the book and get up from the sofa. Draco pulls a chair out for me with his foot and I sit with my legs crossed.

                     "Can I have your cookie?" Draco asks.

       I give him a death stare for a long moment, but eventually give in and drop it onto his plate. He eats it faster than I can even say,

                                "You're welcome."

       I take a few bites from my food and some sips of pumpkin juice, then push my plate aside and grab everyone's attention. Snape stays in the kitchen but shows that he's listening.

            "So I've been thinking a lot about this locket," I begin. "At first I just assumed that he chose it because of Salazar Slytherin, but then I started to think about the other items owned by house founders."

                        "Other items?" Blaise asks.

      Draco nudges my arm. "You mean like the sword of Gryffindor?"

                   I nod. "Maybe he made those horcruxes as well?"

        "Okay, slow down." Aary says while rubbing her temples. "What are these objects from founders? Is this an actual thing?"

      Once again, I nod. "No one has any idea where they are though, which is why I thought maybe-"

             "Maybe he made them horcruxes." Snape finishes my sentence for me.

       I look over to him and see that he's lost in thought. Slowly he takes sips from his tea and processes not what I've just said, but something deeper. I wish I knew.

            "Alright, so they're most likely back at Hogwarts then." Blaise points out.

       "Well the Slytherin locket wasn't," Draco reminds him. "So I highly doubt the others are."

                            "Do we know what these objects are?" Aary blurts.

        "Not entirely," I reply. "I've read some things about a Ravenclaw Diadem but I'm not even sure what that is."

      Aary, Blaise, and I continue to bounce ideas off of each other but Draco stays quiet. I try to grab his attention by playing with the ring on his finger but his only response is intertwining our hands.

Draco's POV

            "Do we know what these objects are?"

      As soon as Aary says that a memory pops into my head from a time my father and I visited Borgin. We were there often, my dad was always interested in the new artifacts that came in.

      But there was a particular one that had been brought up that my father seemed extremely interested in.

                 "The Hufflepuff Cup." I say out loud.

        Malory turns to me with confused eyes. "The what?"

        "I think that's one of them," I explain. "It's like this small golden chalice or something, I heard Borgin and my dad talking about it once."

      I see Snape's posture straighten but he stays quiet.

            "Do you remember what exactly they were talking about?"

      I pause to think. "A little. He just asked Borgin if he had seen it and he said no. Then later that night when we got home my dad was complaining to my mum about how he deserved to watch over it."

      Malory's eyes grow big, almost as if a light bulb has just gone off in her brain. "Watch over it, like protect it?"

                     I shrug my shoulders. "Sounds like it."

        Aary taps Mal's hand. "Think, who would he give it to instead?"

     There's a decent list of Death Eaters that The Dark Lord trusts, but we all know who is at the top.

     All at once, the four of us turn to Snape. He scrunches his eyebrows.

           "Do you think I just left that part out? Obviously I don't have it." He sighs.

       Malory huffs and falls back into her chair, defeated. I rest my hand on her thigh.

               "We have time, let's just talk about it more tomorrow-"

          "Do we have time? Because it doesn't feel like it." She snaps.

      I give her a sympathetic expression but she just gets up from the table and refills her glass of pumpkin juice. Aary and Blaise eventually give up for the night too and start discussing other things.

      When Snape leaves the kitchen and heads to bed I make myself comfortable on the sofa, hoping that Aary and Blaise don't call dibs on it again. As I sit down, I feel a hard object underneath me and instantly realize what it is.

                             The Great Gatsby

         Malory has dozens of bookmarks inside, I'm not sure how she keeps track of the place she left off. While no one is looking I flip to a random page.

      "I can't describe to you how surprised I was to find out I loved her, old sport."

      I laugh to myself at the odd word choice, what even is an old sport? I guess some sort of nickname from the 20's.

       Still with the page open I look up at Mal standing in the kitchen. A smile grows on my face so I quickly look away. I guess Gatsby and I are a little similar.