Of Horn And Halo | Draco Malfoy

Chapter 28 | 1998

It had been Maeve's intention to ignore her friends entirely after the Veritaserum debacle, but she only lasted a few miserable weeks before she realized it was a lost cause. She'd been angry at herself most of all for allowing them to influence her, but without the pleasant distraction of friends, Hogwarts was darker than ever.

With every day that ticked by, it felt like everything pitched further into insurmountable darkness. Just when Maeve thought things couldn't get worse, they would. Classes grew smaller in size as students assigned detention disappeared for days at a time. She could barely walk the less travelled hallways without finding a first-year huddled up in a corner crying their eyes out.

The demonstrations in the Dark Arts classroom became increasingly stomach-turning, the lectures in Muggle Studies more emphatic in their propaganda. In a class, Maeve had felt progressively more uncomfortable as Alecto Carrow had described how truly dirty non-magical peoples were.

Maeve had never imagined her future involving muggles, but she saw the horrified faces of her peers that were of muggle descent and she was well-aware of the mistruths but their reactions alone.

Her parents had been adamant in their opinions on blood purity, but Maeve had been brought up on differing principals than many of her friends. She'd thought they'd been more alike than they were.

Ragnor and Angelica Selwyn had firmly believed in the insurmountable differences between Les Plébéiens and magical people, thinking that they were too different to truly belong side-by-side. But they had still considered those of non-magical origin as living, breathing beings. The way the Carrow's spoke, it was as if they thought of muggles as an almost subhuman, deprived species.

It made Maeve wonder if her parents had hidden their true beliefs in an attempt to blend in when the Dark Lord was lost. Every day, she wondered if more and more aspects of her life had been built upon lies.

Her father wrote her nearly every week asking after school. Every letter was innocent enough, similar to those she received throughout her years at Hogwarts, but it felt disingenuous. He was still her father, but Maeve couldn't separate the Death Eater who killed, with the man who had raised her and loved her from the first moment he'd seen her.

Mon Coeur. My heart. If she'd truly been his heart, he would have taken her back to France the moment there were whispers of the Dark Lord's return. Maeve and her mother had always had their differences, but for as long as she could remember, her father had put her first in every way. She'd truly felt his love.

Clenching her hand until it hurt, Maeve's eyes dipped to her tight grip on her quill. The red lines standing out on pale skin. She remembered her father's quiet confirmation that it had been the right thing to do.

"Maeve?"

Broken from her thoughts, she glanced up to meet Theo's quizzical gaze. She sighed, before rubbing at her tired eyes, "I'm sorry?"

"It's a fortnight, right?" He asked, his tone alluding to the fact that he'd asked the question multiple times while she'd been lost in thought. When Maeve just stared at him blankly, he rolled his eyes, but a good-natured smile tugged at his lips, "the eye of newt, Maeve."

"Oh!" Maeve's eyes dipped back to the parchment she'd been copying her notes upon in preparation for the upcoming potions examination, "yes, a fortnight."

"Maeve ... " Theo looked uncomfortable. He rubbed at the back of his neck, his dark, overgrown curls mussing over his fingers.

Theo had never been one to start difficult conversations. He simply shut down whenever he was required to feel something other than smug amusement, so Maeve assumed he was about to ask her for some ridiculous favour or other. She began writing again, not looking up when she said, "hmm?"

"I ... uh — " His voice was slow and he cut himself off before he could even begin. Maeve turned her gaze up, watching his mouth work as he struggled to come up with words, "I'm ... sorry."

Maeve's eyebrows lifted in surprise. She could barely remember a time Theo had apologized for anything. As a young boy, he'd been sure the world revolved around him and as he grew older he simply had stopped caring about those around him aside from his inner circle, "for what?"

"For everything, I suppose," Theo sighed, his shoulders slumping, "I shouldn't have given the other's the chance with the Veritaserum. You were clearly upset. Well, you've been upset since the summer. Anthony used to be there for you in ways the rest of us couldn't. I don't think anyone else sees it, but I've seen how lately — "

He hung his head in shame and broke off.

Maeve felt a tingle run down her spine in shock. Theo was right. Anthony had been supportive in ways her friends in Slytherin were practically incapable, but it stung her heart to see Theo's discomfort and shame at being unable to help. In truth, she'd never had such expectations for her friends. She could see they were all floundering in their own ways, they just seemed to have their own ways of dealing.

"Theo," Maeve put her hand on Theo's shoulder in a manner she hoped was comforting, "I understand. Thank you. I know since everything happened with your father you've had your own problems to deal with."

The red rims of Theo's eyes shocked Maeve when he slowly raised his head. Unshed tears shone in his eyes that he was desperately trying to blink away. Taking a quick look around their quiet nook in the back of the library to make sure they were still alone, Maeve scooted her chair closer to Theo, leaning her head forward to press their foreheads together.

Theo let out a shuddering breath, "Maeve, what are we going to do? Everything is so awful. I feel so awful all of the time. I don't want to be awful."

Maeve let her hand travel to Theo's head, she rhythmically ran her fingers through his hair, keeping her eyes squeezed close. She could feel his body trembling and she was sure she was shaking as well, "we have to get through this Theo. The best possible thing we can do is survive. We survive and we do better. We have to be better."

A laugh rattled from Theo's chest and he brought his hand to the back of her head, squeezing for a moment, "the best of the best."

"Of course."

Then he pulled away and turned his head to the side. Maeve let him have a moment to compose himself. She doubted he had enjoyed the moment of pure vulnerability. Theo's armour had cracked for the briefest of moments and it had nearly shattered Maeve. She'd been so caught up on herself, it had been impossible to see the suffering under the surface in those around her. It was easy to dismiss their pain because it felt so wholly and completely her own.

But she wasn't alone at Hogwarts.