Princess; George Weasley

seventeen

It's been a month since I've last talked to my father or Adrian.

I keep my head down in potions, and try to walk straight past Adrian without batting an eye. October has only brought in harsher, freezing winds and distance from the life that was once mine. I've sent Opal four more letters explaining my situation, and I haven't gotten a single response.

I know she's started school, but it still hurts to know that my letters haven't been delivering, or that she can't take the time to send anything back. All I can do is worry, and hope she's doing alright. I just want some sign, telling me she's okay.

For a week I was convinced my father was referring to the Dark Lord when he said "you know who." As a result, I ran to Dumbledore and explained my situation. He seems caring, and apologized for students and teachers acting such a way under his watch. He assured me that even though my father was a death eater, he alerts Dumbledore anytime he receives a letter from an old friend. He pushed over and over again that my father would never go back to the lifestyle. He said that my father's heart has been broken, and his love has been shattered by the lifestyle. All symphony's that had performed inside of him had been silenced by the Dark Lord. I tried to ask him what that meant, but he kept repeating the phrase over, and over. The headmaster said that the Dark Lord is not here yet, but when he inevitably does, my father and I will be safe from his grasp. My fathers connection to Lucius Malfoy scares me, but I choose to believe Dumbledore for my own peace of mind.

"Claudia?"

I turn, and to no surprise, I see Cedric walking down the hill towards me. He's wearing a thick coat, and a black and yellow scarf. He unzips his jacket, revealing his quidditch uniform.

"You ran out of there so quickly, the rest of the team didn't even get the chance to congratulate you," he says, taking a seat in the sand next to me. He looks at the black lake, and he slips off his coat.

I sigh, "the Slytherins watching were scowling. I'd rather not deal with that right now."

He laughs, shaking his head. "First rule of quidditch. There's two teams, and one will always hope for you to fall off your broom and break your neck."

"That's comforting," I mumble.

"Don't let that stop you, Dia," Cedric says. "We picked you not only because you're a good flier, but because your strong. If we didn't think you could handle the pressure, we wouldn't have picked you."

He hands his jacket to me with a charming smile. We've gotten closer over the past month, and I can't help but be smiley around him. He knows exactly what to say, and just makes me feel energetic and lively.

"It's fine," I groan, rubbing my arms. "You keep it.

"You're shaking so hard it looks like you're in an earthquake. Take it."

I roll my eyes and look the other direction.

"If I have to force it on you I will," he chuckles. "I'm not letting my star chaser get a cold."

I snatch the jacket from him before slipping it over my t-shirt. The soft interior feels like a warm hug, and I instantly feel better. I slip my hands into the sleeves of the coat, and my fingers seem to relax immediately.

"Have you talked to Fred and George yet today?" He asks.

I shake my head. "Adrian was standing near them after breakfast so I didn't go over there."

Cedric's smile fades from his face. He sighs, and puts an arm around me. "Possessive little Pucey."

I laugh, but it's not a good laugh. It feels shallow, and almost sarcastic.