The star, his moon and their comets

CHAPTER 92 Scripted Solitude

Emma,

Your letter brought a smile to my face, as always.

Regarding my end, things at the manor have been, well, predictably uneventful. It appears my father's curiosity took an extended holiday this year. He hasn't bothered to ask where I've been all this time – perhaps he's too engrossed in his own affairs. Severus has indeed mastered the art of secrecy; not a peep has escaped him regarding our little adventure last Christmas.

I've been attempting to find a moment alone with Mother, but it seems an impossible task with Father constantly lurking about. I suspect he's still nursing a grudge about my choice of company last year. In any case, the manor remains its usual stifling self, and the tension is palpable.

How have things been on your end? I'm eager to hear about how you've been managing with Harry.

Write soon, my love.

Yours always,

Draco

Emma sat in her room at Grimmauld Place, the air heavy with the echoes of a bygone era. The worn wallpaper seemed to absorb the tales of wizards and witches who had once called this place home. Amidst the nostalgia, Draco's letter provided a welcome escape.

She carefully unfolded the parchment, Draco's words etched in elegant handwriting, and a smile played on her lips as she read his musings on the peculiar happenings at Malfoy Manor.

With a sense of anticipation, she reached for her own quill, the inkwell glistening in the dim light. As the quill met the parchment, her thoughts flowed seamlessly into words.

Draco,

I'm glad to say that Harry is emerging from his shell a bit. It's tough seeing someone you care about retreat into themselves, and I can't help but feel a twinge of empathy for him.

I understand those fears of turning into darkness all too well. Sometimes, in the quiet moments, I catch myself wondering the same. It's like we're walking a tightrope, teetering on the edge of something unknown. What if we become evil?

On a brighter note, the Weasleys sound like a beacon of unity in these trying times. The strength they draw from each other after Arthur's attack is heartening. I'm genuinely looking forward to Christmas with them – it feels like a much-needed balm for the soul.

Have you had any chance to speak to your mother yet?

Write soon. Wishing you warmth and courage in the cold halls of the manor.

Yours always,

Emma

With a satisfied sigh, Emma sealed the letter with a wax imprint and sent it on its way, carrying her thoughts and affections to the somber world of Malfoy Manor.

A gentle knock echoed through Emma's room, and she looked up as Remus entered.

"Hey pup," Remus greeted, "we're playing some game downstairs. Want to join?"

Emma returned the smile, grateful for the distraction from the weight of recent events. "Sure, Papa. I could use a bit of a break. What game are we playing?"

Remus chuckled. "It's a Wizarding chess tournament. Sirius is convinced he can finally beat Molly. I thought it might be a good chance to let off some steam."

Emma couldn't help but laugh. "Wizarding chess it is, then. Lead the way."

The air in Grimmauld Place was alive with laughter and the clatter of chess pieces as the makeshift family gathered for a game night. The room was illuminated by the warm glow of magical candles, creating a cozy ambiance that seemed to defy the austere nature of the old house.