Liz has always refused to become like her family. Even though the blood of the Black family flows in her veins. Adopted by Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange after the death of her father Regulus - in hopes of "setting her on the right path" , she st...
The only benefit her freak-out had had was that Gregory stayed away from her for a while. But so did most of the others. Once again, Liz was grateful for Luna. She wasn't someone who needed a lot of people around her, but she didn't want to spend her school day all alone either.
Since her encounter with Mattheo, Liz had avoided her favorite spot. She couldn't risk curling up in her corner and feeling sorry for herself, only to be caught by the dark lord's son.
But now weeks had passed in which she had not met Mattheo again. Maybe he wasn't keen on meeting her again either? After all, she had made quite a fool of herself and it was only thanks to his quick reaction that they were both not in bigger trouble. So why should he risk such a scene again? Maybe she could dare to check if the coast was clear.
Lost in thought, Liz strolled to the deserted hallway. In her bag was a book on the history of mandrake breeding as an alibi. If anyone found her, she would simply claim that she had just needed a place to study in peace.
In reality, though, she wasn't concerned with homework at all. Liz needed a place where she could secretly write her diary without anyone disturbing her or making fun of her.
Was a diary ridiculous? Maybe, but many great personalities had kept diaries and some days it was the only thing that kept Liz sane. Luna was a good friend, but she would never understand what it meant to be a Black. What it meant to have your family constantly disappointed that you weren't cold-hearted enough, while her classmates expected her to be the mischievous Black all the time.
Liz turned the last corner and froze in mid-motion. Some distance away, she saw a figure cloaked in Slytherin colors. But that wasn't Mattheo. The white-blond hair, the stiff posture. "Draco."
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The young Slytherin flinched.
If one was accurate, Draco and she were somehow distantly related somewhere. But since Liz had been adopted by the Lestranges, the two had met regularly as children.
"Lysandra." Draco's usually tough facade cracked as his voice didn't radiate its usual coldness. Only a few steps away from her, he stopped. He seemed just as caught off guard as Liz. As children, they had been close because the adults had always excluded them. But when you're barely old enough for elementary school, it's easy to make friends, too. After a round of hide-and-seek in the Malfoys' vast estate, they had both been happy to see each other regularly.
But over the years, the relationship had changed. Where they had once comforted each other because they were never good enough for their parents, over time a rift had developed. Draco had been willing to go further and further to please his parents, and Liz - yes - Liz had accepted that she couldn't be what her parents wanted her to be.
From then on, they had tiptoed around each other, preferring to be smothered by the awkward silence. Since Liz was old enough not to be dragged along to every meeting, she had not seen Draco outside of school. In fact, this was their first face-to-face meeting in years without others to save face in front of.
"I prefer Liz now," she corrected the young Slytherin.
"Liz," Draco nodded, and there was that silence again. As if a hundred unspoken words were swirling around between them.
But the silence dragged on and finally Draco was the first to give up with a sigh. He lowered his head and walked past Liz.
He was so close that Liz wanted to reach out her hand to stop him. Say something, say anything!
"Draco!" The word had left her mouth before she could think of what she was going to say. Immediately he stopped and turned to face her. He raised his eyes expectantly. Just one word, Liz thought. Take a step toward him. You can do this, she spurred herself on. "You were, um, pretty good in your last match. Against Hufflepuff."
But Draco wasn't that easy to convince after all. Just because he clearly had as much to say as Liz, didn't mean he was ready to reach out to her again. "What makes you think that? You don't care about Quidditch, do you?"
Embarrassed, Liz stepped from one foot to the other. "I was there. Secretly, you know. I didn't want to crowd you." She wasn't lying. Since they'd stopped seeing each other privately, she'd been at his games more often. That was the Draco she missed. Without the pressure of his parents on his shoulders. Free. But that Draco was so far away that she wasn't sure there was even a chance for him anymore.
Astonishment, amazement and a tiny spark of hope flitted across Draco's face in a split second before he tried to put on his calm mask again. "You don't. Never." He failed miserably. His hard shell had developed a tiny but fatal crack. Now he, too, seemed embarrassed. "You really went to the last game?"
Liz smiled sheepishly. She missed Draco. He was the only one who really knew what went on behind the closed doors of their families. The only one who knew that Liz still cried herself to sleep many a night. And that every summer she frantically searched for any excuse, no matter how small, not to return to her parents' house. "Yeah, but I hid with the Hufflepuffs. My head would be ripped off if I were standing with the Slytherins."
Draco also grinned timidly. How many nights did he spend awake in his room, staring at the bare ceiling? Too bitter to really cry anymore, but still human enough to wish for a warm hand and thoughtful words? "I guess there's something to that. But for my sake, you don't have to hide next time. I'd be happy to see you."
Liz tried frantically to pull herself together. False hope was deadly. She would have loved to throw herself at him and cry shamelessly. But they weren't like that anymore. After all, she reminded herself, after all, there was a window in the sky-high wall between them.
" I, I have to go, then." Draco pointed behind him. Better he left before his appendages came looking for him. "I'll see you around?" he inquired cautiously as Liz searched desperately for words.
"See you around," she agreed with relief.
Liz's head was spinning. Could she and Draco fix what had been broken between them? At least a little bit?
Her feet carried her all by themselves to the narrow staircase. If she hadn't walked the same way a hundred times, she might not have noticed the dark leather.
But Liz could walk this corner of the castle blindly. She knew every stone, every nick in the worn wooden railing, and she knew every stature, armor, and painting. Right next to the staircase was the bust of an old sorcerer who got incredibly angry every time he saw Liz.
Directly behind him, wedged between the pedestal and the wall was something. Unsure, Liz looked around before crouching down and reaching for it. A soft but worn leather cover with reinforced corners. Curious, Liz flipped through the old pages. Nothing. Only one name jumped out at her. Riddle.
On the last page, at the very bottom of the corner, the name was written in elegant, neat script.
Immediately Liz clutched the book to her chest and cast fearful glances down the hall again. Had Mattheo lost this? But there was nothing in it. What was the point of an empty notebook? It clearly wasn't new. Could it have been enchanted so no one could read what was inside? A diary?
Liz couldn't deny her curiosity. Swiftly, she put the book in her pocket. If Mattheo Riddle had a big secret, he'd better watch it. And if it was just a little secret, he could be glad that she and no one else had found his diary.
Just in case it was actually empty, Liz thought, she wouldn't say no to a free notebook. Her own diary would be full in a few days anyway.
