In a world ravaged by good and evil, those toeing the line find solace in nothing. Blood runs thicker than water, but is risking your life and livelihood for a war you never wanted a part in worth it? Is becoming a monster in the eyes of some, and a...
Maeve put a hesitant hand on Anthony's shoulder, unsure how to comfort her friend. They'd only become friends that year during transfiguration and she felt like an intruder on his private moment of grief over his cousin.
"Penny," he murmured as if that'd wake her from the state of petrification.
The hospital wing was near-silent, but fuller than Maeve had ever seen it. It was disconcerting to see so many students from opposing houses stand together in silence around the beds of their peers.
"Professor Sprout says the Mandrakes are almost ready," Maeve murmured softly, "Penelope will be fine, Anthony."
Anthony nodded, but he didn't seem to be listening. Maeve felt helpless, but just kept her hand on her friend's shoulder and hoped that the darkness that had descended over Hogwarts would lift as soon as possible.
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Maeve almost snapped her broom in half when she landed. She hadn't thought it possible for a Hufflepuff to find their own behind, let alone a snitch.
"Ten bleeding points," she grumbled to Daphne, who wore an equally sour expression.
"I think this is the worst we've ever played," Daphne responded in kind, shooting a pointed look at the second year who was practically shaking so hard his broom was at risk of flying out of his hand.
The two witches strode through the field and Maeve rolled her neck tiredly, "I should've taken a page out of Malfoy's book and not bothered playing this year at all."
Daphne snorted in agreement.
The two changed quickly and stored their brooms before walking up the darkening trail towards the castle. Most students had already retreated to the Great Hall for supper, but the odd voice was carried through the late autumn breeze down the path.
"I hope there's roast beef," Daphne mused.
"I hope there's pudding," Maeve added.
The two shared grins and picked up the pace. It was nice to have a moment of relief in what had been a nothing but confusing year.
There was roast beef and pudding at supper, along with rolls and roast vegetables and more gravy than one could possibly need.
As Maeve trailed after Daphne towards the Slytherin dorms, she caught sight of Malfoy slipping down a side corridor. Arching an eyebrow, she skipped up to match her stride with Daphne and shot her friend a look, "interesting."
"Interesting is right," Daphne said, slightly bewildered, "he's been sneaking off a lot lately, have you noticed? I wonder if he's sneaking off to a classroom to snog Pansy."
Maeve laughed, "I think she'd be bragging endlessly if that was the truth. She's been enamoured with him since ... " she searched for an appropriate word, but fell short and threw her hands up, "je ne sais pas, since a very long time."
"How articulate you are, Selwyn," Daphne said sarcastically.
The two came to a stop in front of the stone wall that led to the common room. Maeve felt her mood slip. She glanced to Daphne, expectantly.
"Oh come off it," Daphne rolled her eyes and addressed the wall, "mudblood."
The passage opened.
"It feels wrong," Maeve said with a shrug.
"You're too sympathetic. It's just a word."
Maeve bit her tongue to keep from saying, so is 'Voldemort'.
"It's just that Hogwarts is ... well Hogwarts, and it's just strange that the password is that."
"For the millionth time Maeve. It isn't anyone specific who makes the password, it just shows up on the notice-board. It was probably Salazar himself who enchanted it. I'm sure Dumbledore has tried his damnedest to change the passwords."
The two made a beeline for their dormitory, ignoring the students milling around the common room. When they arrived Maeve threw herself onto her bed and sighed heavily, "I'm so tired of the politics, Daphne."
"It's just the way it is, Maeve."
Anger flared inside the pit of her stomach for a moment, "I don't care. I honestly think this is all bloody ridiculous and it's exhausting. I just-" she splayed her hands, "so many preventable problems ... "
Daphne went quiet for a moment before speaking. Maeve couldn't see her face but the tone of her voice was enough, suspicious and chilly, "It's the way things are, Maeve."
The repetition didn't go far in persuading Maeve to change her opinion. She hadn't lied; she was tired of it all. She understood how her family felt, how other families felt, but it didn't matter. Their feelings didn't change how exhausting it was to simply exist around them.
"I know, I'm just ... " Maeve didn't finish. She didn't have to.
Her disinterest in the blood politics that permeated their world evermore didn't change the fact that it was a topic of conversation becoming more and more relevant. Maeve knew what was coming, she could feel it, the rising hostility. There was a culling on its way, and she wasn't sure which side she wanted to be on.
Was there truly a winning side when one was destroying life and the other was being destroyed?
Maeve glanced at Daphne, saw the crease between her friend's eyebrows, and wondered if Daphne felt the same way. She didn't bother asking, she knew she'd get the same rehearsed answer.
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