𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐀𝐦𝐞 | 𝐇.𝐏.

𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝟓 - 𝟏

My family had been constantly strained and stressed since I got home for the summer, especially my father. I knew it was partly because he was worried Potter could tell the whole world he was at the graveyard the night of the third Triwizard Tournament task, and our life could fall apart around us. 

I also knew that Potter would never say that for my sake, knowing it would affect me as much as the rest of my family, and so he kept quiet. Ever since Dumbledore had told the whole school that the Dark Lord was back and was the reason Cedric Diggory was dead, much talk had began to go around.

The Prophet was posting daily news articles on Dumbledore and Potter, and they weren't positive. It was obvious the Ministry was trying to deny the fact. Or, more specifically, Fudge was trying to deny the fact, which was impossible. The Dark Lord had to come out into the light eventually, and then the Ministry would look like a bunch of old fools.

But until then, the Prophet was turning Potter into an attention-seeking joke, and Dumbledore into and old man stupid enough to believe him. Some parents were even presenting the idea of not letting their kids go back to Hogwarts this year, which was preposterous. Hogwarts was one of the safest places in the wizarding world right now.

The other thing that had been bothering me was that the only correspondences I had gotten from any of my friends since the beginning of June were from Potter. Hermione and Weasley were completely ignoring me, and when I asked Potter in one of my letters if they were doing the same to him, he confirmed it. 

I had also just gotten my letter from Dumbledore a week ago, telling me that I should expect a few people to come take me to a home certainly safer than this one. I hadn't the faintest idea how these "few people" were going to get into Malfoy Manor in the first place, and then if they managed to, how they were going to get me out.

I was sure my father had all sorts of security spells and alarms put in place that would ruin this mysterious plan completely. Still, I was over-excited and over-anxious all day. The other thing that Dumbledore had been vague on was whether or not Draco was coming with me when I left. 

I wasn't even sure if I wanted him too. I think I did, but I also wasn't blind to the fact that Draco was beginning to regretfully lean towards my father's opinions on the Dark Lord more than mine. I realized that this unfortunately meant the chances of whoever was saving me from this silent torture of a house taking Draco with us were extremely slim.

That night at dinner I was so preoccupied with my thoughts that I didn't realize the little things I was doing, like wringing my hands together mindlessly and tapping my foot on the floor. Finally, father looked up at me with angry eyes.

"Alexandra, stop fidgeting. And stop tapping your foot. It's driving me insane," he broke the silence of the meal.

"Sorry father," I said tonelessly, stabbing at my meat but never bringing it to my lips.

He hummed in disapproval and continued eating. I was so tightly strung that I jumped when Draco's hand appeared suddenly, reaching past me to grab the salt.

"Alexandra, whatever is wrong with you tonight?" Mother asked sharply.

"Nothing, mother," I smiled politely, and forced a piece of broccoli into my mouth to prove my point. My throat was so dry that I winced as I swallowed. 

After an hour of sitting in the drawing room with my parents, Draco and I reading quietly, mother sent us up to bed. I was about to change into my nightgown when a chill went through the house. I was suddenly so tired that I collapsed onto my bed without changing, my eyes drooping instantly. 

It seemed only seconds that I was in a deep, dreamless sleep before I was being shaken awake forcefully. I blinked open my eyes slowly, and then scrambled up into a sitting position when I saw an unfamiliar woman with bright pink hair leaning over me.