"Didn't know you was into gingers, Malfoy?"
"Shut up Weasley"
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Gemma Weasley shared many similarities with her siblings, the ginger hair, pale skin, freckles and a super sense of humour, yet she was the one that stood out from them all. Even her tw...
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It had been a few weeks since Diagon Alley - since I'd stood in the shadows, watching Draco raise his arm over that cursed fire, surrounded by monsters who smiled like they already knew how this would end. Since then, I hadn't slept properly. I'd written letters I never sent. Burned some. Reread others. Each day brought us closer to Hogwarts, and each day the sick feeling in my stomach deepened.
Now the train rumbled beneath my feet as we rolled through the countryside. The sky outside had dipped into early dusk, casting warm golds and mauves through the windows of the Hogwarts Express. I sat across from Harry and Hermione, curled into the corner of the compartment, my legs tucked beneath me and my arms wrapped around a folded jumper. Ronald sat beside me, twiddling the hem of Harry's Invisibility Cloak, his knee bouncing restlessly.
Hermione's nose was buried in Advanced Rune Translation, but even she was only half paying attention. And Harry - Harry was wound so tightly he looked like he might explode at any moment.
"Don't you see?" he said suddenly, pushing forward in his seat. "It was a ceremony. An initiation."
Hermione's head snapped up, her voice sharp. "Stop, Harry. I know where you're going with this- "
"It's happened," Harry insisted, eyes blazing. "He's one of them."
Ron frowned. "One of what?"
Hermione sighed, closing her book with a defeated thump. "Harry's convinced Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater."
I stiffened.
Ron scoffed, shaking his head. "You're barking. What would You-Know-Who want with a sod like Malfoy?"
Harry looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "So what was he doing in Borgin and Burkes then? Browsing for bloody furniture?"
Ron shrugged. "It's a creepy shop. He's a creepy bloke. Maybe he likes skulls and... I don't know. Shrunken heads?"
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass window, trying to disappear into the rumble of the train. They didn't know what I knew. They hadn't seen his face lit by firelight. Hadn't seen the hesitation in his eyes when he raised his arm. The way his hand trembled just slightly before the light swallowed him.
"His father's a Death Eater," Harry snapped. "It only makes sense. Besides, Hermione saw it. With her own eyes."
Hermione looked uneasy. "I told you. I don't know what I saw, Harry."
"I saw it too," I said before I could stop myself.
They all turned to me, Harry's jaw tensing. "And?"
"He didn't look like he wanted to be there."
Harry scoffed. "Are you serious?"
My stomach dropped. "Yes, I'm serious."
He stood up suddenly, like he couldn't bear to be in the same space as me, his voice hot and bitter. "You're still defending him?"
"I'm not- " I stood too, my hands shaking. "I'm not defending what he's doing, Harry. I just- I saw his face. He looked... trapped."
