Letters To A Friend (Draco Malfoy Fanfiction)

VI.

The dormitory is eerily quiet, save for the soft, rhythmic breathing of my dorm mates, each of them wrapped in their blankets, fast asleep. The faint light from my wand casts long shadows across the room, flickering over the worn stone walls and the edges of my bed. I glance over at Bethany, her chest rising and falling gently, completely unaware of the storm swirling in my mind.

Maybelle has her arm draped over the side of her bed, her hair tangled in a way that makes her look peaceful yet completely dishevelled. Michelle's snores, though soft, are the only noise in the room, almost comforting in their constancy. I envy them-how they can sleep so soundly when everything feels like it's crumbling around us.

I glance down on my letter to Cedric one last time, closing the notebook that holds all my unsent thoughts to him. For a brief moment, the weight in my chest lightens, but it's quickly replaced by the familiar gnawing ache. Hogwarts feels different now-heavier, darker. Even here, in the sanctuary of our dormitory, the shadows of Umbridge's decrees loom over us.

I pull my blanket tighter around myself, staring out at the sliver of moonlight peeking through the window. I'm exhausted, but my mind refuses to rest. Too many thoughts, too many questions, too much uncertainty.

With a quiet sigh, I slip out of bed, careful not to disturb anyone, and make my way to the window. The cool night air seeps through the cracks, and I press my forehead against the glass, wishing I could escape, if only for a moment.

As I press my forehead against the cold windowpane, a sudden gurgle from my stomach reminds me of the dinner I skipped. It's not the first time I've ignored meals-lately, my appetite seems to come and go-but now, in the stillness of the night, the hunger is too persistent to ignore.

I glance back at my dorm mates, still sleeping peacefully, before quietly slipping into my shoes. The Hufflepuff common room is always warm and inviting, even in the dead of night. I make my way through it, careful not to disturb anyone, and step out into the deserted corridor.

The journey to the kitchens is second nature by now. Cedric and I used to sneak down here all the time, mostly for midnight snacks but also just to escape and talk. The thought of him walking beside me sends a brief pang through my chest, but I push it away, focusing instead on the familiar path ahead.

When I reach the painting of the fruit bowl, I tickle the pear, grinning to myself as the door swings open with a soft creak. The kitchen is dimly lit by the embers of the fire, casting flickers of warmth across the stone floor. I rummage through the cupboards, knowing exactly where everything is kept-bread, cheese, a few slices of roast from dinner-and start assembling a quick sandwich.

"Miss Weasley?"

I freeze mid-bite, but it's a familiar voice, so I turn, not the least bit surprised to see Kreelan, one of the house-elves, standing nearby. She raises a brow at me, though her expression is more amused than disapproving.

"You've been sneaking in here for years now. Thought you'd be better at hiding by now," she says, arms crossed, though there's no real accusation in her tone. It's more like catching up with an old friend.

I shrug. "What's the point in hiding if you always find me?"

She lets out a soft chuckle. "You always bring the boy with you. Where is he tonight?"

Her question stops me in my tracks. Cedric. The familiarity in her voice, as if she's expecting him to come waltzing through the door at any moment, brings a knot to my throat. I swallow hard, my mind racing.

"You were not informed?" I ask quietly, feeling a sudden weight of sadness settle in my chest.

Kreelan's large eyes blink at me, and her brow furrows in confusion. "Informed about what, Miss?"