The common room was quieter than usual, the fire casting flickering shadows on the walls as I sat by one of the far tables, a quill poised in my hand. The blank parchment in front of me seemed almost accusatory, its emptiness a reflection of the tangle of thoughts swirling in my head.
I dipped the quill into the ink, watching the black liquid cling to the tip before I brought it to the page. The words came slowly, carefully.
Father,
I trust you are well. I have been focusing on my studies, particularly my O.W.L. preparation, and have been performing to the satisfaction of my professors.
I stopped, frowning at the page. The words felt cold and empty, just like every other letter I'd sent home. But how could I write anything more? How could I express what I really felt—that the pressure of living up to his expectations was suffocating, that I wasn't sure who I was anymore? That I dreaded every owl that bore the Malfoy crest, fearing what it might demand of me?
I sighed, setting the quill down. The truth was, Father didn't want honesty. He wanted perfection. He wanted loyalty. And I... I wasn't sure I could keep giving him either.
The fire crackled behind me, the warmth brushing against my back, but it didn't chase away the chill that had settled in my chest.
"Maybe I should just crumple the whole thing," I muttered to myself, the sound of my own voice breaking the silence.
Instead, I folded the parchment neatly and set it aside. There was no point in agonizing over it now. I'd send it tomorrow, and Father would reply with something terse and formal, reminding me of the weight I carried as a Malfoy.
I left the common room and wandered through the corridors, needing air. The castle always felt alive at afternoon, the portraits murmuring to one another, the occasional creak of stone underfoot. It was comforting in a way, this strange, sprawling home that wasn't really mine.
As I walked, I caught sight of a familiar face rounding the corner—Daphne. She was alone, her robes immaculate as always, and her hair swept into a tidy braid.
"Celeste," she said, her tone warm.
"Daphne," I replied, offering a faint smile.
She glanced around, her sharp blue eyes taking in our surroundings before she stepped closer. "Taking a stroll?"
"Something like that," I said, shrugging. "Needed to clear my head."
Daphne tilted her head, studying me with an expression that made me feel like she could see right through me. "You've been quiet lately. Is everything all right?"
I hesitated. Daphne and I had been friends for years, long before Hogwarts, but there were things even she couldn't know. "I'm fine," I said finally. "Just... school stress."
She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "School stress? Since when do you let that get to you?"
"Since I have a father who expects nothing less than top marks in every subject," I said, my voice sharper than I intended.
Daphne didn't flinch. Instead, she crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. "You're not the only one dealing with pressure, you know. My parents are already making plans for after Hogwarts. Marriages, alliances... It never ends."
Her words struck a chord. For a moment, I considered telling her everything—about the letter, about my doubts, about the growing tension within my family. But I stopped myself.
"I suppose we're both trapped in our own ways," I said quietly.
Daphne nodded thoughtfully but didn't respond immediately. Instead, she studied me with a curious tilt of her head. After a moment, she spoke, her voice softer than before. "Speaking of family... Draco's been looking for you."
YOU ARE READING
human again / hp.
Fanfiction"I already forgave you, so why can't you forgive yourself?" She's a Malfoy. He's a Potter. Celeste Malfoy has always walked a fine line between the world she was born into and the one she chose for herself. At Hogwarts, nothing is simple. Not friend...
