Petals & Thorns | Fred Weasley (UNDER REVISION)

two

SONG OF THE CHAPTER: this city • sam fischer

The entrance hall was littered with excited children, the novelty of the welcome feast still existing for the lower years. She upturned her nose at the sight, tired from the long train ride of pretending and trying her best to ignore the grating crowd. Even the first years seemed to already hold a fear for her, either from their older siblings or their own intuition. They saw how the older students watched her, how they cowered away when she passed, figuring they ought to join in on the trend. They didn't want to get involved, and she couldn't blame them. In fact, she appreciated their avoidance, making her journey to the head of Slytherin table all the easier.

She laughed to herself as she watched Peeves begin his regular torment. Secretly, she always loved the idea of mischief, even if she never allowed herself to get involved with it. Joking and humour in her household was much different than the usual kind, so she never felt comfortable enough overexerting herself for something a simple as a laugh. Peeves, as always, didn't hold her attention long. How could he when she had a group of friends who shared so much likeness to him?

She felt a group following her as she presented herself into the Great Hall. Behind her own followers, Draco led his band of baboons to the table. She hadn't given him a second look as they returned to the school, still irritated with their conversation on the train. She let her feet take her to her seat, her body knowing exactly where to go without her brain instructing it. She always took the spot at the table closest to the professors, furthest away from the foolishness the students often engaged in. As she floated down the walkway, she caught eyes with Snape. He gave her an expression closest to a smile as he saw her face. She had always been his favourite student. She was quiet, intelligent, and in his house, and most importantly , she wasn't a show-off. Her brains were only revealed when she was called upon, and when she demonstrated it in her work. She didn't jump to answer questions, or shout out answers.

She sat on the bench while Pucey took his usual spot beside her, watching as the rest of the boys filed down in a line. She usually had them organized in the most important order to her. It went Adrian, then Marcus, and then Lucian. She didn't care where the other two situated themselves. Her brother sat across from her. It wasn't unusual that the Malfoy children held the head of the table. Although she didn't associate much with him, she did expect him to follow her lead. Often times, she found Draco watching her, studying her. She wondered if it was with hate, or if it was because he wanted to be like her, but was too tempered to hold the same attitude. Maybe, it was a bit of both. He followed her much like the rest of the boys, secretly hoping to learn something from his sister but somehow always getting on her nerves.

His sense of inferiority was not a secret, though, and he wore it loudly despite trying to keep it under wraps. He wanted his parents to look at him the way they did with her, to be as proud of him as they were of her. Although she believed Draco was Lucius's favourite child, the youngest child did not believe this was true. He thought he could never make his father as proud as he was of Addy.

Their parents, pitting the two against each other since their first days on earth, without ever realizing how drastically they affected them.

The masses crowded inside the large room, taking their seats at their respective tables. Addy watched as the Gryffindor table began to overflow, scowling at the red and gold. She didn't have a particular distaste for a specific person, but rather the idea of them entirely. Just the thought of the big-headed occupants made her uneasy. She knew she was no better, holding herself like some sort of God of Slytherin, like she was better than anyone else simply because of her father—

She cut off her train of thought, holding her breath as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. As of late, she found her intensity getting away from her, her dedication slipping. She was important, just like her father, just like her predecessors. She sat at the head of Slytherin table for a reason.