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12 year old Adhara Black-Malfoy rushed down the stairs as she heard her mother calling her name. It was the second week of summer, and she quite missed her friends, especially her bestfriend: Claudette Laurent.
"Yes, mother?" She asked as she skipped over to her, immediately frowning in confusion when her mother looked at her in pity and sadness.
Narcissa didn't reply and merely gave her the letter in her hands shakily, not knowing how her daughter would react.
Whatever Adhara was ready for, it certainly was not this.
She frowned further and further as she read the letter. She felt her throat tighten up, but wouldn't let herself cry. No. She'd never cry.
Adhara looked up from the letter, and looked at the wall, not paying a glance to her mother. She didn't want her pity. Why would she?
Her jaw clenched and her hands balled into fists. How could she?! How did she not realize something wrong was happening?!
"Ara?" Narcissa asked gently, crouching down to her daughter's level, who was refusing to look at her.
"Ara, darling?" Narcissa repeated, not knowing what else to do. "Come here, sweetheart." She tried, opening her arms for a hug.
Adhara didn't look away from the wall and didn't move at all. She didn't hear her mother trying to comfort her, or her brother walking in and asking what was wrong. She couldn't hear both of them trying to make her snap back to reality.
She wouldn't - No, couldn't. She couldn't cry. Not now. Not ever.
But she was wrong.
Because death just took away one of the people most important to her, leaving her alone, just like before.
Her bestfriend, Claudette, was gone. in the worst way possible: suicide.
