Fear Of The Water ~ Draco Malfoy

Chapter 2

Deciding it would be best if she left her home behind, the girl wandered around from village to village for a couple of hours, an owl already sent to Fleur in advance. Ottiliana sauntered around the small town of Ottery St. Catchpole, a quaint village in Devon. She faintly recalled the oldest Delacour sister mentioning the town at dinner one night, before the estate had been decorated as lavishly as it was now. Though it didn't compare to what they used to have.

Ottiliana missed their old chalet in the Pyrenees mountains of France, being forced to move when her mother had them entangled in the strife that was now their reality. She could be herself there, in France, running in the snow, or hiking in between the clouds with her sisters. England was a lot more humid, the summer sun beating down their backs during the day. And there were no snow-dusted mountain peaks in Herefordshire, where the family had relocated to.

But she could still enjoy the little orbs of light, high in a pure black sky. Not a cloud could be seen as the half-moon hung proudly in the night. The village was stark at this hour, the Muggle cars stowed away in their garages and wizarding magic confined to inside the thatched roofs of the little cobbled cottages. The wheat fields swayed gently while the crickets and grasshoppers chirped their distant song at dusk. Birds called out to each other, but what grasped Ottiliana's attention was the strong hoot of a pure white owl as it soared overhead. It passed the fields and flew over a small dirt track towards what she assumed was a house, smoke just visible over the tall crops.

The Burrow was the definition of warm and welcoming. It was obvious a large family occupied the area, a mound of muddy wellington boots piled next to the front door as chickens clucked happily in their pen. A few dented cauldrons lay haphazardly on their sides while a gleeful gnome ran around them, pulling at the growing grass on its way. Light poured out of different windows, shadows of people cast through as they laughed. Ottiliana's soft hand raised and met the emerald door, stepping back to allow it to open. The voices became hushed, the door creaked open. A young woman was standing there, tall and willowy with similar long, blonde hair that reached her waist. Her skin seemed to glow and her deep blue eyes shone. "Annie?" Fleur Delacour raised her wand with a shaky hand, "Tell me, what were we doing when you broke your collarbone in 1986?"

"We were in the lake, down the slope at the front of the chalet. It had a special insulation charm to keep out the cold." She smiled fondly. "You dared me to jump in from the rocks above, I miscalculated the landing, granted I was only six at the time, and hit my shoulder on the jagged edge. We weren't allowed back on our own again afterwards."

Fleur sighed, and flung her arms around the younger girl, "Oh, zank goodness! I zought 'e would 'urt you too!"

Ottiliana went rigid under her sister's embrace. Her skin started to crawl and her breathing became laboured. Stop being childish. But the weight of Fleur's hands on her back was too much. She could feel her own face becoming hotter by the second. Show no weakness. A sweat started to break out on her brow and her eyes began to sting. Stop. Stop. Stop.

Ottiliana yanked herself away and turned her back on Fleur to be met with a short, plump woman, around her fifties. Her wand stuck out from her greying, ginger hair, behind her ear, an apron tied around her waist. She carried a clock with nine hands, each with a different name and each pointing at mortal peril.

She set the contraption down and walked towards the girls with open arms, "Oh, you must be Ottiliana!" She immediately engulfed her in a hug, Ottiliana going stiff again from the sudden action. Please, stop. The woman pulled away and held her girl's face between her hands, the imprints from her palms burning holes into her skin. "What a stunning young woman you are! Need feeding up though. Come along! There is plenty of food left-" She disappeared into a different room, leaving the sisters behind.

Fleur waved Ottiliana in the direction the woman had wandered, "Go on." She smiled. "She eez lovely, I promise."

Sighing, Ottiliana did as she was told, peeking around the arched doorway to see Mrs Weasley pulling a plate from one of the many cupboards that lined the wall, humming to herself. "Would you like some spaghetti bolognese, Ottiliana, dear?"

The girl wrung her hands together, not knowing what to do or where to stand, "Oh, just a little, if that is alright, Mrs Weasley. And, please, there is no need to call me by my full name. It is a bit of a mouthful."

The mother smiled warmly, "Of course. And it's Molly, dear." She placed the plate of steaming pasta on the table, "Please, sit down and eat up! You should probably meet everyone else after this."

A crash made them both jump, a flash of light following a lanky boy with a bright ginger mop of hair who staggered through, clutching the wall like his life depended on it. The ends of his eyebrows were singed and his scalp was smouldering. "Mum! Crookshanks got into a box of Fred and George's fireworks. That bloody cat will be the death of us all!"

"Don't be so dramatic, Ronald!" A girl with bushy brown hair huffed, an open book resting in her arms as her plaid shirt rippled while she walked. "It wouldn't have happened if you weren't so nosy and ripped the box open! Oh, who's this?"

Ottiliana turned from the sink, where she had been washing her plate, dried her hands, and walked over. "My name is Ottiliana. I'm Fleur's sister. It is nice to meet you, and, please, do not feel obliged to use my full name, anything else is fine."

The boy looked at her in shock, mouth hanging half open. The girl hit his shoulder and held out her hand, which Ottiliana ignored. "I'm Hermione Granger. Ron, you look like Pigwidgeon when he's hungry. Stop staring! Sorry about him, that's Ronald, he's an idiot."

Ron finally seemed to snap out of his trance and frowned, "I'm not! At least I know how to fly a broom! And I always beat you in chess. In fact, I am 'Undefeated Champion of Gryffindor Common Room!"

"That's not even a real title!"

Ottiliana laughed, "Well, I shall have to have a game with you at some point, I like to think I am not bad at it myself." She stifled a yawn, and Mrs Wealsey immediately reappeared, her face kind but stern.

"Come on, off to bed, all of you." Mrs Weasley ushered them up the stairs. "You too Ginny!" Another girl appeared at the foot of the stairs, flicking her flaming red hair over her shoulder as she grumbled. "Ottiliana, you will have to share with Hermione in the spare room, there should be a mattress in the corner. Help yourself to blankets." Said Mrs Weasley, giving the girl a pat on the shoulder and bidding her goodnight.

As Ottiliana settled that evening, listening to Hermione's gentle breathing from the other side of the room, she couldn't help but see her sister's poor body, ghostly pale and ice cold in a sea of red. It made her sick. And then she thought about how she was immediately handed the task of penetrating the 'safe' image Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had built over the years. How she and the Malfoy boy needed to get this done, or be killed. Ottiliana didn't fear death, but feared harm finding her family. Seeing them suffer. Knowing that she could have done better. Failing herself, others, the whole world. Simply not being enough.

Now that terrified her.