"It's alright darling," he chuckled softly. "Come here."
Y/ N arrives for her 6th year after struggling to heal from last years events. She finds unlikely companionship in an unlikely trio, but what is Draco hiding?
- hi guys. I decided to write thi...
"Sometimes you couldn't face the sadness of being forgotten until you felt the comfort of being remembered again." Ann Brashares, The Last Summer
Sprawled upside down on my white frilled bedspread, I watched as dust particles flirted with the air in the large beam of light that shone through my bedroom window. They almost looked like tiny butterflies to me. My eyes wandered to my ceiling, which at night would emanate the sky above and what was going on beyond the atmosphere, shooting stars gliding across, constellations twinkling little promises at me. Now it was morning, there were no stars or wishes, or promises. Just echoes of my parents murmuring downstairs, discussing whether they had made the right decision to let me return to Hogwarts after the events of this Christmas past.
"She has to complete her studies at Hogwarts. She can't live in a protective bubble from the wizarding world. People will know the truth, and the truth is on her side." I heard my dad press, on the side of valour and stiff upper lips. "I am just worried. She is not herself. I am afraid to let her spend all that time there on her own." mom replied, always on the side of worrying and perishing.
How do I feel about my returning to Hogwarts? Dreadful. But how would I feel about skipping out on the continuation of real life? Impending doom. I slid off my bed and bent down to close the latch on my trunk. It was time to face up to the inevitable.
"Are you sure you want to do this Y/N?" My mother appeared at the doorway, startling me. "I'm not letting them rule my life. I love Hogwarts and I am going back." I replied almost mechanically as I heaved one side of my trunk in rebellion. "Here." She sighed as she lifted her wand and commanded the trunk to rise and follow us down the hall, and descend the grand foyer staircase with a swish.
Herondale Manor was the legacy of New Galleons and Old Morals. My father is a halfblood wizard who fought his way from humble beginnings and now owned the largest transatlantic trade dynasty in the wizarding world, aswell as a secure position in the Wizengamot Court, and my mother a regal homemaker who came from a pure blood family that once had been Twenty-Nine of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, until her much older brothers and sisters "disgraced" themselves with the other pureblood elitist families by marrying muggles and halfbloods, my mother following suit. They made this place of their own hard work and merit, and I had always been proud to call it home.
It was a beautiful French Provincial style home, reminiscent of Petit Trianon- muggle queen Marie Antoinette's favourite hideaway. It's sprawling grounds, climbing vines, occasional magical garden creature sighting, and the way the sun sparkled as it hit the greenery added the unmistakable trace of a wizarding home. Many warm festivities and holidays were held here. And they were almost wiped out completely by what I had endured last Christmas. But I refused to let him take my home, along with everything else he had taken from me. Herondale Manor belonged to me, and my parents, and the memories that lived here long before he came and went from my life.
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