ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ ; ʳᵉᵍᵘˡᵘˢ ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏ

033 -Hummingbird Serenade

"May we talk, please?" the girl queried.

"Hm?" her cousin hummed in reply, his features blank and distant, and it left her feeling internally cold.

"Draco, may we talk, please?" Cassiopeia quietly repeated, her own expression soft yet imploring.

"Hm?" he returned, his voice as icy as a mid-morning December day.

"Draco..." the girl whispered, her voice a gentle plea, something that was as rare as it now seemed necessary. "May we talk, please?"

She'd had quite enough of the cold shoulder for one week from her favorite kin, and whether their talk went sour or splendid, Cassiopeia wanted to at least have some semblance of conversation with the boy.

Draco sniffed in disgruntlement and haphazardly waved at the armchair next to his seated form, indicating he'd tolerate her presence for the time being, which was an opportunity the girl eagerly took, sitting with a soft sigh.

"I apologize for withholding information regarding my encounter with Sirius Black the previous year," she quietly began, sending a glance about to ensure no snooping ears nor peeping eyes were observing their private affair. "And I apologize for lying about what I intended to use your broom for as well."

Both subjects had already seen appropriate apologies during their talk the night the Death Eaters had assaulted the World Cup, but the girl knew once was simply not enough. Not in this case.

"Hm," her cousin quietly hummed, his soft voice a distant, chilling sound.

"I do mean it, Draco, truly I do," Cassiopeia quietly affirmed, and sending a glance his way, she noted his gaze was locked onto the roaring fire before the pair, and it was as icy as his following reply.

"Apology accepted," he whispered, yet there wasn't a Knut of sincerity to be found within his tone nor upon his shadow-laden, fire-flickering features.

"I never wished nor intended to bring hurt upon you, cousin," she quietly, sadly continued, wishing the boy next to her would glance her way.

"Hm," he once more hummed, which caused Cassiopeia's heart to throb in a most agonizing way, and for something large and unseen to lodge itself firmly within her throat.

"I...apologize," she whispered, hoping against hope to assuage whatever it was that caused such terrible ice to flow throughout his troubled mind.

"Hm?" came his dull reply, which Cassiopeia took as a query, one which she could not give answer to.

'Why are you so...angry?' she wanted to ask of him, but the girl knew she couldn't inquire such, lest he take offence at her lack of understanding of whatever it was that bothered him so, which she knew was, in great part, caused by her own hand, but not, precisely, how, why, or in what way.

"I...think I shall make a trip to the library," she quietly murmured, her voice nearly cracking with each passing syllable. "I imagine...Madam Pince has received a new book on Alchemy...perhaps..."

"Hm," he emotionlessly hummed.

'This is too much...' Cassiopeia miserably thought to herself, and standing from the comfortable armchair, she sent her beloved cousin one final glance, imploring him to look her way before it was too late; before she was gone and away into literary reclusion.

But he didn't.