𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀 || 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊

XXVI - promise me

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

Danica wasn't the type of person to believe in divination. To her, it always seemed too obscure, too naive to believe that something beyond human understanding or control could dictate their lives.

Yet, there were moments when she almost found herself persuaded that life was far wilder, far more mysterious than she could grasp. That's how the Lestrange manor made her feel.

Sinister and evil. Completely out of her reach. Each moment within those walls eating her soul away, bit by bit.

"Young Miss," a meek voice whispered against Danica's ear, two small hands shaking her side. "Young Miss, please wake up."

Slowly, Danica blinked her eyes open, trying to focus them on the ceiling mural of her bedroom. She carefully sat up on her expensive bedsheets, yawning and stretching her back, then looked to her right, spotting a tiny figure clutching the side of her bedframe. The arrows of her large clock pointed to half past six.

"Morning, Smudgy," she smiled, patting her elf's little head. "Something happened?" Danica asked, stepping out of her bed into her velvet slippers.

"Oh, Miss!" Smudge fetched her robe, handing it to Danica in excitement. "You wouldn't believe it! Miss Pandora has arrived!"

Danica froze momentarily, her heart skipping a beat before she broke into a grin and quickly ran towards the door in excitement. "Why haven't you told me sooner?"

Oh, how much she wanted to see her older sister, to tell her everything she had been holding inside. She needed to say so many things, to confide in the only family member she could trust and love.

But before she could reach her door, Smudgy clicked her tiny fingers and teleported in front of Danica, pulling her bony arms to her side, blocking the way. "No! Miss, you can't!" Smudgy exclaimed with every bit of confidence she could muster up.

"Why not?" Danica stepped back in surprise.

"You can't appear before your family in your nightclothes." Smudgy insisted with glossy eyes. "Madam, the madam she- and oh, Master would be enraged at Young Miss."

Danica's smile faltered as she realized the elf was right. "Oh..."

How enviable must it be to be a Muggle. As much as it was an eternal torment to pretend otherwise, she knew very well how it must've been. Just six months ago, during her winter break, she had seen a stand of postcards in London. On one of those cards, there was a family gathered around a decorated tree, tearing into impractically large presents, all dressed in tacky, matching nightclothes. She observed a Muggle mother and a child standing before the stand, the mother gently reminding her little one of every relative and friend on their list as they picked out dozens of various cards to send.

Danica wasn't stupid and knew Muggles had their own fair share of atrocities, but at least their owls weren't getting slaughtered. Or perhaps they were, but she'd rather pretend they weren't. She wasn't even sure if they had any owls or knew such creatures existed.

Yet one thing she was certain of: they had something worth her envy.

Or perhaps none of those postcards were real. And maybe the mother picked the most wonderful, distant dream she only wished to achieve. But if something was being dreamed of being achieved, doesn't it mean that there is an ounce of possibility of it being real? Purebloods like her family probably don't even know about the matching nightclothes. Hence, there is no point in her dreams. After all, what is unknown, could never be achieved. Not with them at least.

Regulus popped into her mind. It's been a month since she last saw him.

"Smudgy," Danica turned to her elf with a meek smile. "Please, help me get ready."