mirrorball

chapter thirteen

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Four days later it was February 3rd. Clara woke up to a foggy window and a chill that ran through her bare arms. She had tossed and turned all night. Her nightmares had returned with the new year, and now it played until the very end. Instead of a flash of black horror, she could see Lord Voldemort unveil himself from the darkness and stride up to her father. She saw her father bow, accept a cold embrace from the Dark Lord, and walk off into the graveyard. 

Clara did not know if her mind had simply forced her to forget the event, or if there was something done to her memory to block it, but she wished more than anything to be rid of the memory as a whole. She walked to the window and wiped the moisture off of the glass. There was heavy fog and rain, but the very tops of the trees were still visible. They poked out of the fog like shining beacons of green. 

Her robes slipped on the same way they had everyday that year, but it seemed as though they were finally starting to fit her again. Clara grabbed her wand, strode down to the Great Hall, and sat at the Slytherin table for breakfast. Her head dipped low, nearly low enough to fall into her oatmeal, and Clara strained to keep her head up.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Clara's head snapped up, as the shouting voices rang in her head. 

"Ow."

"Got a hangover or something?" asked Ron, sliding into the bench. He sat beside her and pinched her cheek until she swatted his hand away.

"No, everything is just painful before seven in the morning, Ron."

"Good..." said Fred. Hermione sat across Clara, and Luna and Neville sat on her left.

"Because we're not done!" said George.

"Wait, you guys can't sit h-"

"Attention everyone!" shouted Fred as he and George stood on the Slytherin table.

"Today is our good friend, Clara Dupont's birthday!" continued George, "In honor of her birth, please join us in serenading her until she is so embarrassed she can't speak!"

"Five, six, seven, eight," said Fred, snapping his fingers to the numbers.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!" started the twins.

It seemed the whole hall had listened to their announcement, because the next lines seemed to be sung loudly by every student. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR CLARA!" A green hat was snapped onto Clara's head, and she only caught a tiny glimpse of Harry before he quickly pecked her cheek and rushed to sit next to Hermione. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!"

Applause erupted from the Great Hall and as soon as it died down the twins had taken their seats. Clara's head was held in her hands, hiding the bright red flush that had taken over her face. 

"You guys are so weird." she said, pulling her head up and reaching for her bowl of oatmeal. 

"We know, it's why you love us though." said George, taking a seat next to his twin.

"So what is the birthday queen's first demand?" asked Ron, dipping a spoon into her oatmeal and quickly eating it before she could get it back.

"My first, and only, demand is for everyone to stop acting like it's my birthday."

"Impossible." said George.

"No can do." said Fred.

"Why don't you like your birthday, Clara?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, she never has. Her dad never celebrated it so she's grown accustomed to the bleak, dryness of everyday life on her birthday. I tried to bake her a cake in third year, and she slapped it so hard it flew into Hannah Abbott's face." said Luna.