- ᴀ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏ ᴍᴀʟғᴏʏ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ
Draco lifts his head up, shooting a glance towards his left to the witch staring shamelessly at him, his pale eyes settling on her, grunting irritably,
"Do you ever mind your own business?"
Oonagh pondered silently, tuc...
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𝕾usan stares nervously at the Irish Witch besides her, awfully silent.
Hogwarts was quiet. For one of the first times in its History, the gossip had reduced everyone to speechlessness, mourning over the dead that was never supposed to die. Albus Dumbledore was supposed to live forever, Severus Snape was supposed to be his confidant, his right hand man, not murderer. And Draco Malfoy was supposed to have choices, options instead of an ultimatum, to kill or be killed. He's just a boy.
Hogwarts was quiet.
Oonagh O'Connor was silent.
She looks up, when in front of her, short and squat, Sprout swung a leg over the bench, taking the empty seat in the front of her. Some of the parents had pulled their children out of school, desperate to get them into the safety of their arms, now the impossible became possible. That had been the case for the Hufflepuff girls, safe for Susan and Oonagh. She didn't have any parents to pull her out.
The Professor reaches for one of the slices of toast on the rack, butters generously on a plate she then slides in front of Oonagh, encouraging her to eat.
Oonagh couldn't eat. She didn't want to. While everyone was grieving the death of Dumbledore, she was uselessly sat there, waiting to know if there'll be another following that sends her into a void of blackness. To keep his life. He was working himself ill all for his fate to lay in the hands of inhumane, heartless, ruthless Lord Voldemort. He was gone, and she may never see him again.
He didn't even say a proper goodbye.
Behind her, Sprout's and Susan's gazes lift, eyes unsure of the person that rests a hand on Oonagh's shoulder, squeezing lightly. Then, in front of her, neat and well-kept, an enveloped letter, on the front, a familiar fancy scrawl that she'd made a great attempt of for his homework essay on Dementors. Goodbye. This was her goodbye.
A smile starts at her mouth, faint and mild, that doesn't reach her eyes. But it's better than nothing. She takes the letter into her hand, glancing to Blaise behind, hoping he senses the appreciation she feels for bringing this to her. He didn't have to, all Slytherins were being carefully watched as if another attack, from them is about to commence, he brought it to her anyway. For a peace of mind.
His bow of the head tells her that he does, giving her shoulder another slow squeeze as he offers kindly,
"Find me if you need anything else, Mrs Malfoy"
Oonagh's heart burns at the nickname, burns her chest, throat and lungs. Good and bad at the same time. She nods, surprised that her voice even came in sound when she murmurs,
"Thanks, Blaise"
He hums, and takes his leave, joining Theo at the end of the Hufflepuff table, not missing the opportunity to shoot Oonagh one of his winks that warms her heart a teeny tiny bit. Letter in hand, she swallows thickly, Susan and Sprout already suspecting that she's going to do what she does, swinging a leg over and hopping up from the bench, excusing herself politely.
