Spectre: The Dark Riddles #1

3: Unicorn*

[Chapter warning: reference of abuse]

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"You have slain something so pure and defenseless to save yourself, you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips."

--on the properties of unicorn blood

***

"Oh, that motherfu—"

"Rowena."

"Sorry, I'm just saying that's what he is." The girl across from me shakes her head, reckless black curls flying everywhere as she takes another bite of her breakfast. She turns to my brother. "Please tell me you messed up his face to the point of hospitalization."

Draco smiles, but it's distracted. "Split his lip."

Rowena Black, the personification of a hellstorm, frowns. "That's all?"

Draco admits, "And then I broke his nose when I got back to the dorms."

"Draco!" I jab him in the ribs. This bit of information is new to me.

My brother and Rowena throw their heads back and cackle. This is the longest conversation they've ever had. It's a miracle that they've stayed civil for more than twenty seconds, but the fact that they're actually bonding, and over something so violent no less...

It's been three days. I spent the weekend secluded in my dorm, reading and writing and trying to distract myself from everything that had happened last week. I didn't come out of my dorm for anything, not even to eat. This plate of pastries and sausage in front of me should be mouthwatering, but I don't have an appetite, not when my first class of the day is Defense Against the Dark Arts.

A few students around us give Draco and Rowena curious looks. The Great Hall is overflowing with food and conversation as everyone enjoys their breakfast, but somehow, their voices rise above the noise. I always seem to surround myself with people like that, those whose voices drown out everything else, who stand out from a crowd, who gather the attention of a room just by entering it.

A trait that, admittedly, I'm envious of.

Rowena reaches across the wooden table and squeezes my hand. It's the equivalent of a bear hug for her. She doesn't really do affection. "Don't worry about it, Ella. I'll help you study for your classes. You'll pass charms with flying colors, and in return you can make sure I actually pass divination this year."

I squeeze her hand back. "Thanks. But I told you, I'm good with astronomy. Divination is a whole other beast. But I can try," I add when she opens her mouth to protest.

"If you really need help, just use one of those enchanted quills," Draco suggests with a mouthful of mash. "Some of them can even write your essays for you."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not cheating to pass my classes, Draco. You know Mother will ground us for a whole year if she catches either of us doing that, so I'd hide your enchanted quills if I were you."

"Well, she's not here, is she?" he points out. "Now eat." He motions to my untouched plate.

I reluctantly shove down a bite of mash, not letting myself taste it, dreading the sensation of it sliding down my throat, of feeling it plop into my stomach and drown in my stomach acid. Eating food is one of the most disgusting necessities.

Rowena watches our banter curiously. As an only child, she's bewildered by the dynamic of siblings. You use insults as terms of endearment and threaten to punch each other every other day, but the moment something serious happens, you're each other's biggest heroes, she always says.