She whispered

by Lucas Chesterton

  She’s flattening her skirt as she steps away and checks to make sure her tie is settled neatly in the center of her throat before she starts off in the direction of the Great Hall. James waits, not willing to make the same mistake twice as he listens for her steps to disappear around the corner before pushing off from the wall and clearing his throat.

  It’s not until he’s started down the hall, normal strides and long legs, that he sees someone standing in front of him, lazily leaning against the wall with both eyebrows raised and a half smile.

  Bas’ tattooed fingers play with the edge of his tie as he chews his gum, his grin widening to expose white teeth. His chuckle says he’s seen more than James would have prefered. When James doesn’t offer up an explanation, Bas points at the spot where Thea Malfoy recently had him pinned against the wall.

  ‘And…what the fuck was that, exactly?’ he asks through a fit of chuckles and James waves him off as they fall in step together.

  ‘It was nothing.’

  ‘Oh…that was most certainly not nothing.’

  ‘It was nothing, honestly.’

  ‘James.’

  ‘Sebastian.’

  Bas continues to laugh as they walk and James absently wonders how Thea has managed to elude him at this pace. She is nowhere to be seen as they start down the stairwell and they are quickly accosted by crowds of students on their way to dinner. Even if she was nearby he’s certain he wouldn’t see her in this crowd and maybe that’s for the best.

  When the finally do enter the Great Hall, they find two empty seats next to Davy and he’s already started into his plate of pasta, spun around his fork as he shovels it into his mouth. His cheeks are stuffed like a chipmunk when he lifts his chin in acknowledgement of their arrival. Despite James’ growling stomach he isn’t in a hurry to fill his plate as he finds his gaze searching over Davy’s shoulder at the table behind him.

  He doesn’t see her anywhere.

  ‘You’ll never guess who I just saw in a very compromising position on the fourth floor,’ Bas says and Davy’s ears perk as he pauses his fork mid-bite and waits.

  ‘Can we, maybe, not do this?’ James says, rolling his eyes but Bas just places his hand against James’ face, pushing his head to the side playfully.

  ‘Thea with James pushed up against the wall, eyes locked in heated passion���’ Bas says in a dramatic whisper.

  ‘There was no passion,’ James corrects and Davy almost chokes as he starts to laugh.

  ‘She had his hands all over him and our boy here looked in desperate need of a cold shower,’ Bas adds and the dramatization makes the whole situation seem absurd.

  ‘She was not touching me. Well, she was but just to make a point,’ he tries to argue and both of his friends stare back at him in amusement as he buries himself deeper in unnecessary excuses. ‘We were having a row and she was trying to intimidate me.’

  ‘Looks like it was working,’ Bas says, taking a bite of a dinner roll as he awaits James’ explanation. ‘Can’t say it surprises me much though. The way you two carry on. I figure it’s about time all that tension came to a head.’

  James ignores Davy as he nearly chokes on his food.

  ‘Ew, no. It was not like that. She caught me off guard. That’s all.’

  ‘Methinks thou doth protest too much,’ says Bas.

  ‘I hate you. I hate you both.’

  The table erupts in laughter.

  THEA

  The small ring of black leather chairs in the common room belongs to Albus and Thea between the hours of eight to ten on Friday evenings. There is a couch and two chairs that surround a coffee table that is covered in parchment and books that stack in neat piles.

  Albus sits, his Arithmancy book at eye level as Thea sits, sprawled out on the rest of the couch, her head in his lap as she scribbles notes with one hand, and holds her identical book in the other.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she says, placing the quill between her teeth as she glances up at her notes.

  ‘For the last time…it’s the assignment,’ Albus says, sighing. ‘Your brother is trying to use the assignment as an excuse to kill two birds with one stone. He invites James to the gala, you invite Rose. He gets to do his part of the excitement and spend time with the girl he’s been eyeing for the last year and a half or more,’ he says without looking up from the page. ‘Plus, he does get the added bonus of annoying you with James’ presence, knowing that it will bother you to see him in your house. I don’t know what there is not to understand at this point.’

  There is silence for many moments, so many in fact that he sighs again as he his forced to tear his eyes from the book and down to where she is looking up at him, her brow furrowed.

  ‘I was talking about this problem from the homework set,’ she says, pointing to the numbers on the piece of parchment in her lap and forms and ‘o’ with his mouth as realization pours over him.

  From her periphery she can see a student, a first year she recalls, start to sit down in the empty leather chair to their right. Without looking towards them, Thea lets out a stern ‘No’ and the student, who hasn’t even had a second to settle into the seat, flinches and scurries away.

  Thea’s stare speaks volumes.

  ‘I thought you meant the Muggle Studies assignment. It’s all you’ve talked about since Professor Thomas handed out the pairings.’

  ‘And I already told you, it’s handled,’ she replied, sitting up and folding her quill in the book as she settles it into her lap.

  ‘Right, but I still don’t understand what that means,’ he says. ‘You say you have things under control and yet all I heard from that story was that you handed James a win-win. He chooses to go to the gala, he wins. He opts to use your ‘one free favor’, he also wins. I’m not certain you were thinking clearly when you handed him the power to get the better of you.’

  ‘While I and reluctant to admit it, your brother has a fair number of talents thanks to the blessed genetics of your family tree. Creativity, however, is not one of them,’ she says and she has a point. ‘Whatever James comes up with will be mildly embarrassing at best.’

  ‘While I agree, my brother lacks a certain creative flair, I would advise you not to underestimate his obsessive hatred for you.’

  ‘Taking his side?’ she asks, scribbling into the margins of her notebook.

  ‘Never.’

  She rewards him with a wink.

  The clock above the ornate stone fireplace erupts in a string of chimes that tells him their time is up. Albus isn’t wasting time in closing his textbooks and sliding them neatly back into his bookbag. Thea, meanwhile, meanders at the thought of getting up from her place on the couch and eyes him, her eyelids narrowed when he stands abruptly, causing her to fall slightly backwards into the empty spot his body has left behind.

  ‘You’re in a hurry, aren’t you?’ she says.

  ‘Our homework session isn’t the only one I have planned for tonight,’ he tells her and her brow furrows.

  ‘It’s ten o’clock, Albus Severus. Since when do you stay out after hours?’

  She’s joking when she says it because she knows Albus is a big boy and can fend for himself but when his porcelain pale cheeks flush an ever-so-slight shade of pink her step pauses.

  ‘Perks of being a Prefect,’ he replies. ‘After hours projects in the library. Less crowded that way.’

  ‘It’s a Friday night, Al. I doubt there will be anyone else in the library,’ she tells him, rolling her eyes.

  But he shrugs because maybe that’s the way he prefers it and she can’t help the small tug inside of her. Curiosity rises but she refuses to be the one to ask and maybe he’s counting on that because he turns quickly to leave. She reaches out, unable to stop herself as she grabs hold of his hand and he pauses. She hopes she’s concealing whatever it is that’s tugging at her when he turns and she pulls him towards her and places her lips to his cheek gently and brushes his hair from his eyes.

  ‘
We have Quidditch practice early tomorrow,’ she reminds him, her voice low. ‘Don’t forget.’

  He nods and gives her a quick grin as he tosses his bookbag over his shoulder and starts towards the door. She tries not to care when he wipes her lipstick from his cheek.

  She thinks about it all the way up to her dorm. He never wipes away her lipstick because he’s never cared before. Before now, perhaps, she realizes. He’s not hiding anything because technically she could have asked who he was going to study with. He wouldn’t have lied. But part of her doesn’t want to know. She doesn’t want to speculate about Albus and anyone else because it’s only ever been Albus and Thea.

  She doesn’t include Dom because Dom was a summer fling and she refuses to think that it was anything else.

  She opens the door to her dorm to find it empty save for Magnus who sits prettily by the window where he bats gently at fish who swim past. They sputter out of view at the sight of his claws and he doesn’t look the slightest bit interested that she’s walked through the door.

  There are several envelopes on her bedside table which means Elara has come and gone with the post and likely will sneak in sometime after hours. She sits on her bed, slipping off her shoes and sliding them under the bedside table as she picks up an envelope with her father’s writing on it. She hesitates, glancing down at the neatly written font, her name written out in full.

  Theodora, it says, a name reserved for her family and professors. It’s always been a mouthful but she doesn’t mind it as much as she did when she was a child.

  Her father’s letters are usually updates followed up with questions about school and quidditch, most often he ends with an inquiry about her brother because she knows Scorpius rarely writes as much as he promises to. When he does write his letters are vague and formal. Her father wants to know if things are ok.

  The truth is she doesn’t know either.

  This letter, however, is short. He’s abroad again, somewhere in Karakoram. He hasn’t found anything, nothing that he was looking for at least and she can feel the disappointment in his words. She knows better than to be put out at the news, now. She’s had hope for so long and she feels it slowly slipping away with each letter like this.

  She glances at the vials on her nightstand and sighs as she reaches for the first, a light liquid, shimmering under the flickering light of the candles burning in the lanterns hanging over her head. She stares at it for several moments, dreading the metallic taste. But she knows it’s better than the alternative. She’s only forgotten her potions once whilst at school.

  It’s a mistake she doesn’t want to repeat.

  The second and third liquids both taste like peppermint and she’s thankful for it because it prepares her for the last one which is the worst. But she plugs her nose and downs it, cringing at the slimey texture as she forces herself to empty the entire vial. There is one left over but she doesn’t take that one unless she has to, unless things get really bad, and so she lets it sit there, the black liquid dark as night.

  She has exactly twenty minutes before she’ll be under the influence of some of the more potent potions and she would rather not fall asleep on the floor so she makes quick work of getting ready for bed. Her quidditch robes are neatly arranged on a hanger on the outside of her wardrobe, ready for her early practice in the morning. Magus has finally resigned his battle with the fish outside the window and he saunters over to the bed and starts kneaded the blanket just over her stomach.

  Thea remembers very little after she flicks her wand towards the lanterns and the light dims slowly until it leaves the room covered in darkness. Only the sounds of Magnus’ purs are there, lulling her into a dreamless sleep.

  Or so she hopes.

  McGonagall’s office is the perfect temperature, as usual and he’s grateful as his damp robes hang carefully hung next to the fire. Outside, a storm rages and if he hadn’t been running behind schedule he would have dried them himself before rushing up to her office. But he refuses to be tardy, even if McGonagall herself is.

  He sits by the fire, rolling his sleeves with slight impatience as he sits straight up in his seat. He doesn’t look at the clock though he knows very well he’s been waiting for precisely eleven minutes and he starts to wonder if he misread his schedule. The thought is fleeting, however, because Scorpius never misreads his schedule.

  His thoughts are confirmed when McGonagall herself comes bustling in, removing her hat and gloves as she hangs them on the same coat rack and then she crosses the room. She takes the seat across from his by the fire and smiles as she adjusts the spectacles on her nose. Scorpius has never noticed how tired she looked until now though he would never insult her by saying it outloud.

  ‘I apologize for keeping you waiting Mr. Malfoy,’ she says, crossing her legs, one over the other. Her wrinkled fingers absently toy with the aged velvet on the armrest. ‘You sister insisted on having tea in the greenhouses for our meeting. It is a bit of a walk from here.’

  ‘I apologize for her���’ he begins but she holds up her hand with a sly grin.

  ‘No need,’ she says. ‘I find that Theodora is much more open when I compromise with her on our meeting locations.’

  Scorpius can only nod. He knows that, compared to himself, his sister’s patience level is severely lacking. The headmaster’s office is large but busy. The walls are crowded with paintings and trinkets, historical artifacts and framed documents. Thea needs open spaces, which is why she spends so little of her free time confined in the dungeons here at Hogwarts. At home she rarely spends more than an hour at a time in one room. He’s not sure if it’s her boredom or anxiety that is the cause.

  ‘Anyways, let’s talk about you, shall we?’ she asks. ‘I won’t insult you by asking you how classes are going. I’ve already heard from the professors that your marks are near perfection, as usual.’ Scorpius feels a tug at the corner of his lips. ‘How is the responsibility of Head Boy treating you?’

  ‘Well, professor,’ he tells her. ‘I enjoy the involvement with the student body and my peers on the prefect council.’

  ‘Any major issues that I should be aware of? I know you meet with the heads of house on these matters but I have to admit I am curious.’

  ‘No major issues to date, professor,’ he says. ‘Students have been relegated to the usual forms of mischief of course. Curfew violations here and there, and an unauthorized bit of magic in the first year dorms that cause one of the Gryffindors to lose an eyebrow. Nothing concerning since First Friday at start of term’

  ‘Ah yes,’ she chuckled. ‘First Friday is indeed a spectacle.’ She seems to mull over this for a moment before clearing her throat and coming back to task. ‘Well now that we’re well into the term, I expect you’ll be thinking more about narrowing down your list of opportunities after the school year has ended. Have you chosen an apprenticeship, yet?’

  He glances down at his hands and sighs.

  ‘Not yet,’ he admits. She doesn’t pry and for that he’s grateful.

  ‘Well, you certainly have enough time. I’ve received several letters from the Ministry regarding your applications and any number of them would be thrilled to have you as their apprentice.’

  Her words are kind but Scorpius isn’t as certain as she is. He’s seen a few letters himself, urging him to join. But he can’t help the sinking feeling that it has nothing to do with his qualifications, and everything to do with his name. It’s no secret that Scorpius’ demeanor is not quite what people imagine when they hear the name Malfoy.

  People may despise the name but they certainly don’t despise the Malfoy money.

  His father grew up in a different world. Things were different then, times were dark and status said everything about a person and their wealth. The Malfoys have always held a high status with society and their wealth has often been coveted by those who would be willing to bend their morals in order to obtain a piece of it.

  Now the name is feared more than anything. He wa
s surprised he received any offers for assistantships at all, let alone eight. His father has spent many years trying to transform the image of the dark connotations with their family name. He wonders if this is him succeeding, or if it’s something else entirely.

  ‘Theodora still seems determined to study medical magic. I expect with her continued hard work she should have no trouble finding work in that field.’

  Scorpius scoffs.

  ‘I think her bedside manner could use some work,’ he teases and even McGonagall can’t contain a chuckle.

  ‘Your father wrote me,’ she says and he feels himself tense slightly. ‘He says he hasn’t heard from you in a few weeks and is concerned.’

  ‘Is he?’ he nearly laughs and McGonagall’s eyebrow rises into a high arch.

  ‘He is indeed,’ she nods. ‘I understand your relationship with your father is none of my business, Mr. Malfoy, but I these meetings are designed so that I am aware of your wellbeing and state of mind. I have never had much cause for concern since your second year here. But I ask that you are honest with me, so neither of us waste each other’s time.’

  He looks at her, his eyes locked with hers. Her spectacles don’t hide the age lines that gather around her pale orbs. He knows better than to waste the Headmaster’s time. And he knows better to lie. But he doesn’t have to lie about his feelings for his father. Those have always been painfully clear to everyone.

  ‘If you must, you can report that I will write to him at week’s end to inform him of the results of the Quidditch match and that everything else is uneventful, and that I didn’t want to waste his time in writing about it.’

  She looks reluctant to end the conversation there but once again she only nods and gives him a small smile.

  ‘Very well,’ she says and motions that Scorpius is free to stand. ‘Until our next meeting then.’

  He stands, adjusting his sleeves so that they fall back over his wrists and he grabs his coat, now dry, from it’s place by the fire.