❝FRIENDS❞ ➳ d. malfoy

02.

September 1st, 1996

Arabella Boone wasn't sure what to expect as she entered the Great Hall after the long yet amusing train ride to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Things had changed over the time between this year and last; the death of Cedric Diggory being the cause of most uncertainty. Although the Ministry was desperate to cover up as much as they could, but it was clear to anyone with a pair of eyes; The Dark Lord was back. And with the way her mother had been subtly preparing the manor, her father would return as well. 

Arabella felt a shudder slither up her spine as a reflex at the thought of her paternal figure. Padma Patil, Mandy Brocklehurst, Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecomb shuffled in alongside the raven-haired girl, clearly oblivious to her sudden change in demeanor as they sat around each other at one of the four long tables in the Great Hall. The chattering of students filled the air, excited to be home once again, greeted by the floating candles providing a warm light for the students to reunite with their friends. 

Well, most of their friends. 

Her eyes glanced slightly to the table on the other side of them, a pang hitting her heart and causing nausea to swell in her stomach at the absence of the Hufflepuff who typically at least sent her a wink from across the Hall. Memories of black and yellow ties thrown her way at her stupid jokes, butterbeer shared across a splintery wooden table at the Three Broomsticks and soft whispers about people they loved yet believed to be unobtainable resurfaced with the taste of bile in her mouth. Her clouded over eyes moved to the familiar student in front of her, Marietta Edgecomb gossiping about whatever painfully romantic endeavor she went through during the break, oblivious to Cho Chang's diminishing smile. Suddenly, Arabella Boone wasn't quite as excited for the feast.

Padma Patil's watchful eyes drifted down to Arabella's arm, the pale girl twisting the flesh around painfully, a method she had learned young; tears did nothing but cause more trouble for her. "Who do you think's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year?" Mandy Brocklehurst muttered an answer, her cheek smushed against the palm of her hand, half-asleep and ready to crash below an enchanted constellation in the cool Ravenclaw dormitory. Her pale, blonde hair was splayed slightly on the table, wide green eyes fluttered closed, uplifted slightly by the force of her hand against her cheek. Padma cleared her throat, "Bella?" 

A hum was her answer, dull eyes that were once calculating and cold swayed over to one of her best friend's, the dark haired girl repeating her question. Arabella Boone offered a fake grin, "Not Snape, that's for sure," the pair of Ravenclaw's tilting their heads in the direction of the professor, clearly in a worse mood than usual. The greasy haired professor wasn't too hard on the Ravenclaws and Arabella mentally thanked the sorting hat every day for not putting her in Gryffindor, but that didn't mean she enjoyed watching how utterly unprofessional he was toward the courageous house. 

"Merlin, who shit in his pumpkin juice this morning?" Padma muttered, Mandy snorting awake with a barking laugh. "I'm betting it was her." Her fingers, sporting a midnight blue chipped nail varnish pointed towards a new woman, sitting poised and calculating at the front of the Great Hall. Her hair was styled so that not a strand hadn't been purposely placed, a pink blazer with a darker pink trimming falling so stiff that Arabella thought she could work in one of those Muggle wax museums Mandy had told her about. 

"I don't like her."

Mandy grinned widely at her, Padma shaking her head with an amused look on her face, glad to see some color returning to her best friend's face. "You haven't even met the woman yet, Boone," Mandy stated, raising an eyebrow. 

"Yes," Arabella hummed, "but I'm good at-"

"Reading people."

"We know," Mandy rolled her eyes, a slight grin on her face. "But you've never liked a DADA professor." Arabella shook her her, eyebrows raising meaningfully, "No, that's not true. I liked Lupin in third year."