the valerian in your thoughts

chapter two

She made everyone feel unsafe, almost naked; exposed to danger. Draco lifted his head to examine her closer. So familiar, yet so strangely unknown. She was someone you knew, but erased your memories from. There surely must be some form of magic, a curse, around her. No one could have that effect. Her green eyes were fixed to the front, right at the headmaster and he wondered how he hadn't caught fire yet. Draco only now noticed the handcuffs hovering around her small hands; a color of flaming blue, sparkling. She held her hands in front of her at the level of her stomach and didn't even acknowledge anyone as she brushed past them, Hagrid following her every move as if she'd take off at any second.

'Blimey,' Zabini let out a quick breath, holding onto the table and leaning closer to the middle, 'I never thought I'd see Callie again.'

'Who?' Goyle uttered, but Parkinson inhaled the thick air sharply, opening her googly even wider.

'That's it! I knew I recognized her from somewhere.'

She drew out her wand and with a quick wave, the Daily Prophet landed in front of them. He read the date; it was from the middle of august.

It bugged Draco that he couldn't have identified her sooner. A girl that muted the whole hall just by her appearance, walked with such grace and confidence in her dark clothes and left a scar on everyone she passed, she must be from noble class. Her beauty was captivating, but in a strangely unexplainable way; pretty and repelling at the same time.

Parkinson tried reaching for the newspaper, but Draco snatched it right out of her hands. The title was written in ink-black letters: First expulsion at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic after nineteen years. The cover portrayed her face and the upper part of her body; smiling slightly as she stood next to a man and a woman, not any less tall. The man wore a black suit with a grey tie, his gelled hair laying back perfectly; there was not one grey hair on his beard. The woman's short curls, however, stuck out in every direction, still in a gentle way, and the dress curved her body in a way none would guess she was of childbearing age.

Both presences yelled power and wealth.

A shiver went through his spine.

Felicia and Olivier Michon had been working partners and what one would consider close friends of his parents for a long time. Draco remembered the few times he had caught a glimpse on them as a child, only to be sent away by his father. He had usually never been allowed out on the halls when they had visited.

He wondered how he hadn't noticed the resemblance of Mrs. Michon and her daughter - of which he had almost forgotten she existed - the first minute he laid his eyes on her. They had the same facial features, she same lips, same nose. Only the eyes, the Green Zinnia eyes; she had them from her father.

Even more important, the Michon family stood in one of the first places in the Sacred Twenty-Eight his parents liked to boast about. That title meant a lot to any noble family. The Michon's genealogical tree goes far back, though they were the last three left. Still, no one has seen them directly aligned with dark wizards so far, though it was public everywhere that especially Mr. Michon had his connection all around the world, and not only because of his job in the department for International Magical Cooperation. It would be a delight to be on her good side.

The Slytherins weren't the only ones now recognizing who was walking through the Great Hall. Her name was whispered, so carefully as if it was a forbidden spell. There was only one other name he knew that had a similar effect.

Draco examined the faces of other students. Some looked dazzled, some somewhere between anger and fear. Others didn't take the eyes off of her, more because of her dark charisma for she wasn't any prettier than others here. She captivated everyone; no one noticed the little scars on her face or the sweat on her forehead.