Of Horn And Halo | Draco Malfoy

Chapter 31 | 1998

The pair was breathing heavily when they broke apart for air. Draco grinned down at her lazily and ran his thumb over his swollen bottom lip, "must you attack me like that whenever you see me, Maeve?"

His words were light with humour, but there was a twinkle of smug contentedness in his pale face.

"Better than following you, I suppose," she quipped back, smoothing her hands over his white dress shirt she'd been twisted her fingers into moments ago. She threw a canvasing look over her shoulder to make sure that they were alone in the dusty corridor they'd ducked into out of habit. She supposed it didn't really matter that much if they got caught by anyone other than the Carrows, but then again, they were Pure-bloods. The Carrows would probably have turned blind eyes. The thought made Maeve uncomfortable.

"Same time tomorrow," Draco joked, eyes laughing.

Maeve's secret unwillingness to admit that she and Malfoy had been sneaking around for weeks added to the growing ocean of guilt that sloshed in her stomach painful each day. But neither of the pair had broached the subject, and Maeve was perfectly happy living in denial if he was as well.

"How will I survive through the Spring Holidays," Maeve turned her chin dramatically, "I suppose I'll have to look out the window into the distance longingly for at least twenty minutes each day."

Draco's hand rose as he smoothed her hair that he'd none-too-gently pulled from its braid earlier, "am I only worth twenty minutes? Thought I'd be at least an hour."

"You lost the right when you slammed me into a stone wall."

Maeve was only half-joking. She hadn't forgotten his vicious snarl and hands on her shoulders, pressing her against the cold stone wall of the dungeon corridor.

Draco lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug, "well, I don't know what you want me to say about that."

Maeve nearly rolled her eyes at his words, "believe me, Draco, I am not simple enough to even imagine you capable of remorse for any actions you believe to be justified."

"Then we agree," he said over his shoulder as he began to walk away. He didn't look back over his shoulder and Maeve hadn't expected him to.

"A sorry would have been nice," she grumbled to the empty hall. Then, she shook her head. She refused to be the one talking to herself in some lonely hall of Hogwarts.

"Maeve," the pile of blankets greeted her as Maeve entered the dorm.

"Daphne," Maeve replied, tugging at her tie with unfounded aggression. She tossed the glorified noose on her bed, accompanied by her robes moments after.

She tugged a thick wool sweater over her dress shirt that she'd left at the end of her rumpled bed days previous.

"You look like you lost a fight with a hairbrush," Daphne insulted from her blanket castle.

Patting at her hair self-consciously, Maeve glared at her friend. She rummaged through her nightstand for her brush, before she brandished it in Daphne's general direction, "why are you in such a foul mood? Well, more so than normal."

"Can't a witch dying a slow, agonizing death suffer without judgement?"

Daphne's dramatic words were undermined by her throwing the coverlets from her shoulders and emerging from the pile. Her eyes were red, punctuated by dark bruises that alluded to lack of sleep. What caught Maeve off guard, however, was her hair.

"You cut your hair?" Maeve asked gingerly.

"Yes!" Daphne turned her gaze to the window, blinking rapidly. Her voice was thick with unshed tears as she spoke, "I wanted a change. It was so thin and flat."

"You look like a boy?" Maeve offered in what she hoped was a supportive tone, but she was unused to consoling Daphne. She quickly amended, "a pretty boy, of course!"

Tears leaked from her friend's pale blue eyes, but Daphne blinked hard as gasping laughed wracked the blonde witch's form, "I do, don't I?" she wiped at her eyes with her sleeve, "the prettiest boy to walk the halls of Hogwarts."

"The best of the best," Maeve assured.

The two locked eyes, before the laughter overtook them.

Strangely, in the wake of the dark shroud that had covered the lives of so many, it was all too easy to laugh. In her lowest moments, Maeve found herself laughing. It was catching.

Everyone laughed, because if they didn't, they would cry.

Daphne did both. The tears continued to flow as she collapsed to her pillows, giggling all the while.

Maeve hadn't lied. Daphne's short hair only accentuated her pointed elfin features. She was one of those strange beauties one couldn't help but look at, long to be with, or long to be. It had been a surprise to many when she'd never deigned to accept one of the many propositions made to her throughout the years. It was no secret some rather hurt and mean-spirited boys distastefully referred to her as the 'Snake Queen'. Though, Maeve was pretty sure Daphne had secretly been pleased with herself when she'd caught wind of the insult.

"Are you really dying?" Maeve's words came when the room was empty of their echoing laughter, "I know you've said it's a slow process. But, you surely don't mean as soon as within a year?"

"I am really dying," Daphne said, her voice adopting a dry tone, "but, no, I could live to be forty, I could die in five years, or I could live to be three hundred."

"So, you don't truly know?"

Daphne's eyes turned to the dying light filtering from the window once more, "no."

The gravity of Daphne's situation made the air disappear from Maeve's lungs. It was nearly impossible to wrap her mind around the truth. But Daphne had spoken so finally, as if her friend had already come to terms with her death, whenever it may be.

"I just have to do my best to live without regrets; live like there isn't a tomorrow, I suppose."

"You truly have no regrets?" Maeve's eyebrows were high on her forehead.

"Please," Daphne let out a huffing laugh, "in a world so much like the one we are living in today, it is impossible to live without regrets."

The silence that followed Daphne's declaration was heavy, but brief.

"Let's go down to the Great Hall. I find I have an appetite tonight," Daphne said, uncharacteristically cheerfully. She seemed lighter as she danced around the room, searching for and donning more casual clothing as was appropriate for the evening.

Maeve wasn't sure if she had an appetite, but she followed Daphne out of their dorm.