The Boy in Diagon Alley

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Ivy kept staring down at the name on the back of the letter, making sure she had seen it correctly and that her eyes hadn't duped her.

     With her heart throbbing uncontrollably, she then threw a glance behind her shoulder to make sure she was alone in the hall before quickly opening up the envelope.

     She was taken by surprise, however, when she opened the letter to read it, seeing that only two very short sentences were written inside it.
"I hope you can accept this as my apology. Merry Christmas."

     For a moment, she considered that this was a prank sent by Lila. But there was no mistaking that neat handwriting in cursive. It belonged to him.

     Trying to ignore the odd feeling in her stomach she was starting to get, Ivy put down the letter and picked up the thin box, which was wrapped up beautifully with a red ribbon on top of it.

     Taking a shaky deep breath, she opened up the wrappings, only to see that he had sent her a box of chocolates.

    And then, before she could stop herself, a smile crept over her face.

***

On the day the Christmas break came to an end, Ivy had woken early enough that her father and older brother still hadn't left for work at the Ministry of Magic.

     She was relieved to get back to Hogwarts. After all the news that had been dropped on her like an exploding bomb, Ivy now thought that she could endure coming face-to-face with Remus Lupin.

     Still feeling rather sleepy, Ivy joined her family in the dining room, where their house elf had already set the breakfast table.

     There was never anything exciting on their table for breakfast, because Mrs. Malfoy didn't think it was healthy to eat something heavy for the first meal of the day. As Ivy sat on her usual seat, she looked around at the things set before her; coffee, tea, toast, eggs, and avocados.

     She couldn't wait to be back at Hogwarts and have as many sausages for breakfast as she wanted, with as much ketchup as she wished.

     "I'm sorry you couldn't meet Narcissa over the holidays," said Lucius, taking a sip of his coffee. "She is a wonderfully polite and intelligent girl. You would've liked her. I guess you'll get to meet her over the summer," Lucius went on. "Before the wedding, surely. The ceremony would be in mid-August."

     Mrs. Malfoy cleared her throat to catch her husband's attention, whose face was hidden behind that day's copy of the Daily Prophet. When he looked back at her questioningly, she gestured at Ivy's direction with her head.

     "Right." Mr. Malfoy cleared his throat rather awkwardly, before turning to look at Ivy. "Your mother told me about her intentions on our future union with the Black family. And I must say, I quite agree."

     "Marriage isn't a game, Ivy," her mother said firmly. "It's not so much about liking one another as it is about keeping tradition."

     "How can you live with someone until the day you die if you don't even like them in the first place?" Ivy questioned coldly.

      "You'll learn to live with it. The affection will grow between the two of you eventually. We should better get going," she said, wiping her mouth graciously with her napkin before raising from her seat. "You don't want to miss your train."

     As she left the dining room, Lucius fell into an awkward silence and her dad raised the newspaper again. Ivy sighed to herself.

     Maybe the reason she never believed in love was because she was raised in a household where her parents showed no affection to one another.