"Do you even remember that night? When we were thirteen? When I told you that if I could spend the rest of my life with anybody, it'd be you?"
***
Aquila Malfoy knew, through and through, that she was a Malfoy. She had the pale skin, shiny blonde...
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The last two weeks of Aquila's summer were inarguably the worst of her entire life.
It was hard to tell whether being inside or outside was the worst— inside, she was ignored by her family almost entirely, and outside, she felt oddly homesick and alone. She hated every second of it.
Draco seemed to be enjoying it at least— merely tying his shoes earned him a pat on the back, and it annoyed Aquila to no end. Of course, her parents had been like that with her, but not to that extent. However, every time a "Good job, Draco," got thrown into the air, and her brows creased on their own accord, she immediately felt guilty about it. She had to remind herself— over and over— that he deserved this. He needed his chance to shine.
Aquila just wished it wasn't at her expense.
During those two weeks, she— luckily— had three things to keep her company— Aurora, the moon, and the stars. With the newly formed ban on any unsupervised conversations with Dobby (Lucius couldn't risk having her hide things with the elf anymore, nor could he let her, "Becomeany closer with a creature than you already are."), she was forced out of the house, and into the rolling fields surrounding Malfoy Manor. She would start her days early, with her feathery friend by her side, and return late at night, newly accompanied by the mystical ambiance of the night time sky. The stars littered the navy atmosphere magnificently, shimmering with a new air of familiarity that kept Aquila secure. She studied the constellations with purpose, mapping their patterns in her mind so that she might be a little more prepared than the other students in her upcoming Astronomy class.
That's all she had to look forward to, really— her departure to Hogwarts. The castle, the sorting, who she would soon become friends with— she was itching to know absolutely all of it. But the days were ticking by slowly, as were the hours and the minutes and even the seconds. A Braking Spell had clearly been put on time, damming it to an eternally slow movement.
The night before September the first was most certainly the worst for Aquila's patience. She spent an ungodly amount of hours tossing and turning in her bed, trying to lure sleep to take her.
"For Merlin's sake, Kwill," she thought grumpily, flipping herself onto her back, and screwing her eyes shut as tight as she could, "shut your bloody brain off."
Her request went unnoted, unfortunately, as her brain tried to conjure yet another batch of restless thoughts— had she packed everything? Was her wand in its box? Was the box in her trunk? Were her robes folded neatly? Did she have all her books?
With a frustrated huff, Aquila threw her covers off, and moved to sit on the floor in front of her trunk. She unlatched the lid and peered inside, surveying all her neatly organized things.
"Maybe this will tire me out," she said aloud, fishing her belongings out one by one, preparing to organize them (for what was probably the seventieth time that week).
