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 left her trunk in the foyer, letting her gaze wander over the unfamiliar surroundings. Their residence in Paris had been far more cramped. In terms of Paris, their home on the top floor in the centre of the city had been rather extravagant. But the large country manor was sprawling with the grounds to match.
The year had started so strangely. The Death Eater demonstration at the World Cup had set the tone for the year. When it had ended with the death of a student Maeve hadn't even personally known, and yet it had hit her harder than she ever could have expected.
Now she was thrown from Paris to somewhere new when her thoughts were so very chaotic.
"Welcome home," her father murmured to her mother, wrapping an arm around her thin waist. The two shared a nostalgic smile that made Maeve feel as though she was intruding upon a private moment.
"Since when did we even have property in Britain?" Maeve's voice came out sulky. She had spent the entire year at Hogwarts reminding herself that she'd return to French-speaking Plébéiens and pâtisseries on every street serving hot chocolate so thick one could dip a croissant in it.
"This is our home before you, Maeve," Ragnor mused, taking in the slightly dusty surroundings.
"And now it's our home again," Angelica said in a tone that said she wouldn't speak any more on the subject.
Maeve nodded, but she was already homesick of a home that wasn't even hers anymore.
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Maeve had been avoiding Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco - more so than usual — for more than a month when Daphne finally mentioned it.
"Why have you been all mopey and lonely lately?"
Maeve pulled her jumper on and tossed her leather gloves into her cupboard where her Quidditch equipment belonged, electing to come back for it sometime later when she wasn't in such a foul mood.
"We just lost the last game of the season and you want to talk about how I've been reclusive?" Maeve frowned at her friend. It was out of sorts for Daphne to bring such matters up in the first place.
"You didn't have to remind me," Daphne let her head fall backwards and she let out an irritated noise, "gods damned Gryffindors."
The rest of the trip up to the Great Hall for supper was filled with mutual complaints about the Gryffindor team and losing the game.
The two slid into seats beside a few of the younger Slytherins as most of the seats were full.
"Potter wasn't even there," Daphne muttered for the fourth time, "the She Weasel has no business actually having talent."
Maeve laughed. They spent the rest of supper eating roast beef, potatoes, gravy, Yorkshire pudding, and roasted vegetables with only the odd snipe at the opposing Quidditch team to pass the time.
