𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 (OC x OC)

[003] CHAPTER 11 - i look in people's windows

"i attend christmas parties from outside."

Makayla

It's officially December, which means that everyone is leaving to go spend time with their families. I'm not, fortunately. This year, I'm happy about getting to stay. We're getting to go to Hogsmeade as a class instead of having to make the journey on our own. The only issue is that we need a parent or guardian to sign a permission slip for us to go. Harry and I don't have either of those at the moment. I mean, I could ask my mother if she could sign mine, but I doubt that Lucius would even let the letter get to her. This only means that this Christmas will be like every other: excluded from exciting trips. Nothing's new.

I am following McGonnagal with Harry, trying to convince her to sign the permission slip for the both of us. So far, no luck.

"I cannot do that, you two," she says as she walks down the steps to the courtyard, turning back to face us. "It would be unprofessional for me to do it as a professor. Plus, Ms. Malfoy, I'm afraid that your parents are still alive and your legal guardians. There is nothing I can do for you—either of you. I'm sorry."

She goes to meet with the students as Hermione, Ron, Jordyn, and Ann look back at us, their faces showing that they feel sorry for us. Oh, how I hate pity.

"It's fine, guys," Harry sighs, waving off their disappointed expressions. He rubs his forehead with the back of his hand as I shift from one foot to the other slowly, my eyes staying to the floor. "You guys go have fun..."

They all sigh, turning away and joining the others on the way to Hogsmeade. I gently kick the snow on the ground before turning around myself and heading back up the stairs to the castle, Harry shortly following.

"What're we going to do?" I ask, not taking my eyes off the ground.

He sighs, looking up from the ground as he speaks, "I've got an idea. Come with me."

That's when his pace quickens in the direction of the Gryffindor common room and I clench my lungs tight to my chest to keep them from breathing as I follow him. If I don't breathe for long enough, I can pass out and won't have to go in there. It's not that I have anything against Gryffindors, which—for most of them—I don't, it's just that most of them have everything against me. I don't feel like having to bare the dirty looks I get as I walk through the corridors of their quarters or getting the snaggy remarks on how I'm stuck-up and spoiled—which I'm not. Not anymore.

We reach the entrance to the Gryffindor common room and Harry says to the painting, "Fortuna Major."

The painting departs from the wall as if it's a door, revealing the inside of the Gryffindor common room, which is—surprisingly—much more full of color than I had imagined.

There aren't many Gryffindors occupying the common room when the two of us enter. I'm assuming that the majority of them are at Hogsmeade. Why wouldn't they be? It seems that Harry and I are the only ones in Hogwarts whom are unfortunate enough to have no one to care enough to sign a permission slip.

Stupid permission slip.

It's as if my entire life is a permission slip. I constantly need permission from the one person I don't want to contact for every single breath I breathe. It's gotten to the point where I just shred the permission slip and go on with the rest of my miserable life. Never getting to go on any trip, any vacation, any time away from the misery of what I know as a normality. A normality that lives inside me as if it's an infectious disease—a parasite that uses me for it's own thriving. It eats me on the inside until I'm completely hollow—and now it's hungry. I've been hollow for a year.