Spellbind

2. You see it?...Don't you?

A/N:
>>>>> = Timeskip
<<<<< = Flashback
*=*=*=*=* = Next Scene

*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*

Niyla,

I hope your lessons are going well. It's come to my attention you haven't spoken to Harry and the others since school began. I know last year was a lot to get through, but I don't want you to drift away from your friends. Harry is practically family; and would it really be so difficult to send Padfoot a letter every now and again? He is your father.

Moony

*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*

Niyla POV:

Dad,

They are the one's who made the choice to avoid me—

I sat in the library, scathingly scribbling on several pieces of parchment. It was very early morning; a lot of students were still only just getting up from their beds. I had my elbow on the table, my hand laced in my hair, gripping it tightly with frustration.

Dad,

If they wanted to talk to me thy would, I'm not going—

I fiercely balled up the paper once I noticed the mistake.

Moony,

How can I send Padfoot anything when Harry is always sending that damn bird, two letters to the same place in a short amount of time would surely catch the attention of—

My quill snapped in half. I ripped up the parchment, noting the markings on the next piece of paper where the quill had scratched through.

"Not off to a great start, this morning?" A voice broke through the quiet of the enormous room.

I jumped, and flushed with embarrassment. "George," I breathed.

He pulled out the chair across the table and sat almost carefully. It was mid October, and since school started he had only interacted with me in Advanced Potions. Solemnly keeping our conversations about the subject, even when Fred would talk about other things around me, George would avert himself through most of it. I watched him for a second, a bit stunned he decided to come up to me. Then again we were in a near empty library.

"I was just writing a letter to my dad," I collected the shredded and crumbled up pieces of parchment.

"About a rather infuriating topic, if I'm being honest," I brushed the ruined paper into my school bag with the broken quill.

"And what would that be?" He smiled a soft crooked smile, so spellbinding that all I could do was stare.

After a lengthy second he raised an eyebrow and his smile faded. I shook my head while looking downward to the few papers I had left.

"Harry actually," I slid the letter from my father across the table, knowing I was inarticulate with awkwardness and mortification to be able to speak.

His eyes swept effortlessly across the parchment, so fast, I wasn't sure he actually read it. His eyebrow knitted together then curved briefly in a kind of dejected expression. I was staggered by the look, he'd never worn it for me before.

"We have been distant, haven't we?" He said, rhetorically.

My voice came out unintentionally indifferent. "It doesn't bother me."

His eyes dropped, he clenched his teeth so that a muscle on his jaw twitched repeatedly. "Of course it doesn't, because you spend most of your time with your boyfriend."