The Mystery of the Frozen Heart

Chapter Four: Fortune Favours The Bold

1913

1 "She said what?" Leta was glaring at Newt out of narrowed eyes, her usually light-brown complexion flushed. They were in the middle of the Hufflepuff Basement common room, with a considerably large group of people lounging on the overstuffed, yellow-and-black upholstered armchairs and sofas, chatting amongst themselves, reading, or catching up on homework. A few were writing letters, presumably to their families. Some looked up when Leta raised her voice. She really was smack in the middle of the round, low-ceilinged room, the magical illusion of bright sunlight that came in through the oval windows illuminating her like a spotlight. She didn't care, though; when she was angry, her surroundings always ceased to matter to her.

Trying not to show how self-conscious being put on display like this made him feel, since he didn't want to exacerbate her outrage, he said, "She seemed genuinely worried that something unpleasant might happen to you," not quite looking her in the eye.

"And she couldn't tell it to my face? Or make that hook-nosed vulture she fawns over just, I don't know, not follow through on whatever the hell he's planning?" She almost shouted this, throwing her hands up in frustration. People were definitely pretending not to watch them, now.

Being familiar with her, he wisely did not make the mistake of asking her to take a deep breath and calm down. If there was one thing she never reacted well to, it was when someone condescended to her; that was never his intention, anyway. "To be fair, I probably would hesitate, too, were I in her place." Squinting at her as if he expected her to hex him, he added, "She thinks you hate her and is a bit afraid of you, if I'm not terribly mistaken. Maybe if you talk to her, it'll help?"

She snorted derisively and crossed her arms below her chest, before glowering at him. "Like I'm ever gonna grovel before the feet of a Slytherin pureblood who thumbs her pointy nose at me every time I happen to walk by. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to be forced by my family to attend those snooty official functions and just be ignored or laughed at every single time?"

"Well, no. No, I don't." He pressed the knuckles of his right hand to his lips and discreetly cleared his throat.

"Then don't tell me to go talk to Celestia Prewett!" She laughed, and it was an unpleasant, hostile sound. "The ridiculous names those people have!"

"Don't forget that her father is one of us, and-"

"I don't care! She takes after the Black side of her family, then! That girl's never done anything nice to me in her life, and now I'm supposed to trust her? I'm supposed to ask for her help? No!"

He realised that she was snapping at him because being upset made her go into defensive mode, and that it wasn't personal. Being shunned by peers like she was would make anyone bitter. The thing was, it hurt to see her like this; it hurt quite a bit. Bracing himself for resistance, he stepped a little closer to her and - his heart thundering - reached out to very briefly touch her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"For what? You didn't do anything." Then, after taking one close look at him, she all but deflated. Her shoulders slumped, the anger drained from her expression, and she sighed. "Don't listen to me. I'm the one who should be apologising to you. You're just being a good friend."

"I am a good friend," he said, smiling a little.

The light in the room became even brighter when she returned the expression. "I've been thinking. What would you say if I told you that I'm allowed to bring a friend to the Yule Ball? Would you be terribly inclined to run for the hills? Given the fact that it's at Malfoy Manor." After making a face as she spoke the name, she uncrossed her arms and reached out to take his hands - hesitantly at first, but with more confidence when he didn't recoil.