.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.
"I heard you had an argument with Lucius."
Danica looked up, meeting Narcissa's icy blue eyes before lowering hers to her cup of lemon black tea, the warmth of the cup comfortably soaking into her palms. She took a careful sip, testing it with a tiny taste, almost hoping it would scald her tongue and give her an excuse to pause. When she looked up again, Narcissa was still watching her.
In her hand, Narcissa held a cup of black coffee. Danica resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose. She thought of Regulus, who took his coffee just the same, and she could almost hear him teasing her about her 'childish palate'.
Danica set her cup down with a soft clink and gave Narcissa a faint, bittersweet smile. "We really haven't spoken in weeks, huh?" she murmured. It stung more than she let on; they were still roommates, after all, but lately, Narcissa had been almost a ghost in their shared space, always somewhere at Malfoy's side. Only now, nearly a month after the Slug Club dinner, had they finally managed to find a moment together at the Three Broomsticks.
She sighed, feigning indifference. "Really, it was so long ago, I forgot it even happened." The lie was smooth, effortless—she had practiced it enough in her head. But of course, she hadn't forgotten. The memory of that night lingered, an unwelcome guest in her mind, resurfacing at the most inconvenient times.
Narcissa tilted her head slightly, her icy gaze sharpening as if she could read the truth between Danica's words. But she simply took a sip of her black coffee.
"I see..." Narcissa's voice was calm, trailing off into a silence that settled heavily between them.
The Three Broomsticks was bustling, warm with the scent of spiced mead and roasted chestnuts that mingled pleasantly in the air. Its wooden beams stretched above them, decorated with strings of garlands and sprigs of holly, already preparing for the holiday season. The low murmur of laughter and clinking glasses filled the room.
Danica shifted her gaze to the window, where the first snow of the year had begun to fall, tiny flakes drifting down gently, coating the street outside in a delicate layer of white. She spotted Marlene McKinnon and Mary Macdonald emerging from Honeydukes, their arms loaded with a variety of festive Yule sweets. They laughed as they sat down on the curb, eagerly sorting through their stash.
But her gaze drifted back to her cup, and she forced a small smile, pulling herself back into the present.
Danica traced her finger around the rim of her teacup, casting about for something to break the silence. "So... haven't seen you in Herbology this year," she remarked, forcing a casual tone. Narcissa had always loved Herbology; she used to light up at the mention of a new species or potion ingredient. But this year, she'd been noticeably absent.
Narcissa's lips quirked into a faint, distant smile. "I'm not taking it," she replied.
Danica hesitated, glancing down at her tea before meeting Narcissa's eyes. "Yeah," she murmured, nodding. "I figured." She took a slow sip, feeling the warmth against her tongue. It was hard not to feel that the Narcissa she'd known—the one with hands smudged in soil, who could lecture for hours about magical fungi—was slipping away, replaced by a polished version that always seemed perfectly composed by Lucius's side.
"Lucius thought it wasn't..." Narcissa trailed off, her gaze dropping to her cup as she brushed a perfectly manicured finger around its edge. "He thought it wasn't exactly fitting for a Black to be digging around in dirt." She chuckled lightly, though there was little humor in it. "So I'm focusing more on subjects that will be... useful."
Danica let out a quiet scoff before she could stop herself. "Useful," she repeated. "Because Merlin knows how essential it is to look pristine at all times." Her tone was soft, but the sarcasm seeped through. Narcissa glanced at her sharply, but Danica just gave her a small, resigned smile. "I suppose we've all had to make adjustments," Danica added, trying to smooth things over, though her voice was tinged with something that felt almost like grief.
The friend who used to excitedly drag her to the greenhouse, cheeks flushed from the cold, seemed a world away now, sitting before her as if she were an entirely different person.
Narcissa's gaze lingered on Danica's face, a faint frown creasing her brow."So... how are your other classes going, then?" she asked, her tone a bit forced, as though it w as merely the polite thing to say.
Danica shrugged, giving a half-smile. "Oh, you know. Defense Against the Dark Arts is about as cheerful as ever. Regulus is my partner, so that's... something." She glanced away, wondering if Narcissa had noticed the hesitation in her voice. "And Potions is fine. Slughorn's been his usual self, mostly fawning over Regulus, of course."
"He does seem quite taken with him, doesn't he?"
Danica rolled her eyes, unable to help a wry smile. "At least it keeps the spotlight off me. Slughorn only seems interested in me when he wants someone else to listen to his endless stories." She leaned in, "You know he's still going on about that vampire he met last summer?"
Narcissa laughed, "I think he's been talking about that vampire since before we even arrived at Hogwarts."
For a moment, it felt almost like old times. But the silence that followed quickly reminded Danica of how long it had been since they'd truly laughed together. She toyed with the edge of her sleeve, glancing down before trying to revive the lightness between them.
"Any plans for the break?" Danica ventured, looking up at her friend.
Narcissa's face softened, but she gave a small, measured sigh. "Lucius invited me to stay with his family for part of it," she said, her gaze shifting somewhere far off. "It'll be... nice, I suppose."
Danica let her gaze drift to the window.
Danica couldn't help but smile at the way Marlene shook a box of chocolate frogs. But her smile faded when she noticed a figure sitting just a dozen feet away from them on the curb: Dorcas Meadowes, alone, picking at her own stash of sweets. Dorcas cast quick, sidelong glances toward Marlene, who, for her part, seemed intent on avoiding her gaze, focusing too hard on dividing the candies evenly with Mary.
Danica cleared her throat, deciding to break the silence with something lighter, though the question on her mind was anything but. "Have you been invited to the soiree?"
Narcissa blinked, as though surprised by the question, then shook her head. "No...? It's for active members, you know." Her tone was soft, careful, her gaze steady. "I'm only becoming one next year."
Danica's fingers tightened around her teacup, her brow furrowing. "What about Malfoy?"
The words had barely left her lips when a figure appeared just behind Narcissa. Lucius Malfoy leaned over, his voice smooth but with an edge. "What about me?" he asked, as if her curiosity had summoned him from thin air.
Danica looked up, meeting his gaze, and for a tense moment, they held each other's stare. His pale eyes gleamed with the faintest hint of amusement.
Narcissa cleared her throat and shifted in her seat, looking between them. "Lucius, we-"
"I asked Lestrange, Narcissa." His gaze remained fixed on Danica, who felt her pulse quicken. Narcissa looked down, her cheeks flushing slightly, and Danica's fist itched to react.
Danica put on a tight, fake smile, forcing the words out. "The soiree. I hear it's just for members."
Lucius settled into the chair across from them, legs crossed, "It is," he replied.
Feeling a rush of irritation, Danica dropped her eyes to his forearm, where she caught a glimpse of dark ink peeking from beneath the cuff of his shirt. Last time she remembered, he wasn't a Death Eater yet. She bit her cheek, "It happened at the wedding, no?"
Lucius's expression hardened, and he looked her up and down disdainfully. "Shame you weren't there to see it."
Danica felt a cold weight settle in her stomach as the memory flickered back to her—Regulus being called in for the mission, her helplessness as she waited for his return.
"Avery—?"
Lucius cut her off with a wave of his hand. "The imbecile didn't know what he was talking about. Thought it was about the ball."
Danica scoffed, crossing her arms. "Color me surprised." She leaned in slightly, fixing him with a glare. She paused, before pointing at his chest with her eyes. "How long will you be keeping them to yourself?"
A chuckle escaped Lucius, devoid of warmth. "You mean these, Lestrange?" He shoved his hand elegantly into his breast pocket, drawing out two golden envelopes and mockigly waving them around. "I may consider it if you ask very nicely," he taunted.
She scoffed, but then her gaze drifted to Narcissa, who sat quietly, staring down at her hands. Danica's heart sank. With a heavy sigh, Danica turned her attention back to Lucius. She stood up, the chair scraping against the wooden floor, and fixed him with a distant look, trying to mask her fury with indifference. "Give them to me."
Lucius raised an eyebrow, the smirk still playing at the corners of his mouth. "And why would I do that, Lestrange? What's in it for me?"
Danica took a step closer, refusing to back down. "You might find that it's more beneficial to have me and Regulus at your side than to keep us at arm's length."
For a moment, Lucius appeared to consider her words, as if he were weighing the potential advantages of her proposal against the risks of defying his own inclinations. "You should've started from that," he extended the envelopes toward her, his smile widening. "I am always delighted for a new alliance."
Danica snatched the envelopes quickly, "Delighted," she sneered. Then, she glanced at Narcissa who still kept avoiding looking at her. "It's a shame my tea has gone cold."
Lucius's smile morphed into something meaner, "Don't worry, Lestrange," he said, "I'll make sure to keep good company for my fiancée."
His words definitely hit a nerve.
Danica measured them up for a moment longer. "See you, Narcissa," she said finally, not caring to wait for her half-assed reply, let alone another word from Malfoy, and pushed through the pub's crowd, walking out of the wooden doors.
The rush of cold air hit her like a slap. She pulled her itchy Slytherin scarf tighter around her neck, the rough wool scratching against her skin as she instinctively sought warmth from the biting chill. The frigid wind stung her cheeks, and she could feel it creeping in through the gaps in her coat, making her shiver. As she shoved her bare hands into the pockets of her coat, careful not to crumple the envelopes, she took a deep breath.
Danica looked up at the overcast sky, with thick, grey clouds stretching endlessly above her. Really, time flew. And she could no longer avoid the conversation about the Horcruxes with Regulus. Especially since the contents of the invitation could potentially change everything.
She needed some good advice.
Danica let out a weary sigh, her breath visible in the cold air, "Guess I'm going bar-hopping,' she murmurred to herself, "...on a Saturday morning."
.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.
"Hot butterbeer with extra ginger," Aberforth carefully plopped down a heavy ceramic mug on the wooden counter before Danica, who tiredly lay her head over her crossed arms, spilling a few blobs of the whipped topping.
Danica lazily raised her pointer finger, dipping it slightly into the froth before licking it clean. "Thanks, old man," she mumbled.
"Oi, watch it." Aberforth said, giving her hair a light tussle.
Danica swatted at him half-heartedly, trying to tuck her hair back into place. "I can't help it if I'm having a rough day," she mumbled, taking another sip of her hot butterbeer.
Before she could take another sip, Aberforth snatched the mug from her lips, holding it just out of reach. "What the—"
"Alright, is it about that boy again?" he asked, raising an eyebrow with a knowing look.
Danica glared at her butterbeer, which now dangled tantalizingly far from her grasp. "What does my drink have to do with it?"
"Consider it to be your bill."
"I'll pay for it," she insisted, still straining to reach the mug.
"Not taking it."
She huffed, crossing her arms. "That's foul."
Aberforth just kept staring at her, waiting. She rolled her eyes. "Yes. Now give me back the mug."
With a grin, he handed the mug over. Danica immediately pulled it closer and took a satisfying sip, the warmth spreading through her as she savored the sweet, spiced flavor.
"That wasn't too hard now, was it?" he teased, turning to wipe and polish some glasses behind the bar, the soft clinking of the glass punctuating the cozy atmosphere. The pub was intimate, dimly lit by flickering candlelight, with the gentle crackle of the fireplace adding a comforting backdrop to their conversation.
"Did you have a lover's quarrel?" he asked.
Danica looked down at her drink.
"No," she said softly. "On the contrary. Everything's been perfect. But I'm afraid of ruining it."
"Did you go on a date with some other boy?" he probed, raising an eyebrow.
She shot up in shock, nearly spilling her drink. "Merlin, of course not!"
"A girl?" he continued, seemingly unfazed.
"What the hell?"
"Then it's nothing to worry about," he said with a casual wave of his hand, "just a little bump on the road before your wedding."
Her face flushed red at the mention of "wedding," and she could feel Aberforth's gaze lingering on her, clearly enjoying her embarrassment. "I'm actually struggling here, alright?" she snapped, trying to sound indignant but failing to mask the heat rising in her cheeks. "Stop belittling my problem like it's nothing,"
"But it simply is." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Just talk to him."
"Things could change," she murmured, almost to herself.
Aberforth let out a long sigh, reaching under the counter to pull out a thick pint glass and filling it to the brim with dark mead. He tilted his head toward the red-haired bartender—a wiry woman Danica vaguely remembered from her last visit—who was wiping down the tables nearby. "Mind covering the bar?"
"Aye, boss," she replied in her thick Scottish brogue, already moving off to serve a few waiting patrons.
Aberforth took a long, contented gulp, savoring the mead, then leaned his elbows on the counter, looking at Danica, "For better... or for worse?"
Danica's fingers drummed lightly against the mug, eyes fixed on the swirling foam. "I don't know," she admitted quietly, "But it would be... different."
Aberforth studied her for a moment, his expression softening just a little. He took another long sip of his mead, letting the silence sit comfortably between them. "Different doesn't always mean worse, y'know."
A small, wistful smile played at her lips. "But it's not half bad as it is right now," she mumbled, almost as if trying to convince herself. "Sure, things could be better. But if I just... didn't say anything, I wouldn't risk losing everything."
Aberforth gave her a knowing look, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against his glass. "True enough," he replied slowly, "but you said it yourself, it could get better."
Aberforth looked at her with that steady, perceptive gaze of his, as if he could read all the tangled thoughts she was keeping locked inside. He didn't press her for details, but his tone softened a bit. "Funny thing about making things better," he started, swirling his drink. "It's messy. Not the sort of thing that ever goes smooth."
Danica looked down at her mug, absently running her finger along the rim. "But there's a difference between messy and... losing everything," she muttered.
Aberforth snorted. "Maybe. But sometimes losing something is just clearing room for something better to come along." He paused, his expression turning a little more serious. "All I know is, standing still because you're afraid of falling doesn't stop the fall from coming one day anyway. At least if you're moving, you're falling forward."
She was quiet, taking that in, not sure how to respond.
Aberforth leaned closer, his voice low but firm. "You're tougher than you look, and I'm guessing whoever you're worried about is too. Might just be you're both tougher than you think." He gave her a quick, reassuring nod. "Take the chance, Lestrange. You might just surprise yourself."
Aberforth scratched his chin thoughtfully, glancing off as if dredging up a memory. "You know, this reminds me of old Dougal—big brute of a man from down in Inverness. Thought he'd live a nice, quiet life raising sheep. Thought he'd 'figured it all out,'" he said, making air quotes, "but he was so dead set against anything that might mess with his 'perfect setup' that he ended up doing something downright mad."
"What'd he do?"
Aberforth grinned, leaning in. "He built this giant stone wall around his cottage to keep everything 'perfect,' y'know? Kept him locked up tight from anyone or anything that could change things for him." He chuckled. "Ended up walling himself in so good, he couldn't get out himself. The villagers had to dig him out after they found him hollering over the fence one morning."
Danica snorted, a reluctant smile breaking through. "That's ridiculous."
"Exactly. Just goes to show—sometimes, the only person trapping you is yourself. All that fear of things going wrong just makes things worse in the end." He leaned back, giving her a wink. "So don't be a Dougal, eh? Open the gate a crack."
Danica shook her head, but she was still smiling as she took another sip.
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"All right, everyone, listen up!" James Potter called, rapping his knuckles against the table. The chatter among the prefects quieted as they turned their attention to him. "The Yule Ball is coming up in a few weeks, and Evans and I have a lot to go over. So let's get started."
Danica and Regulus lounged at the far end of the round table in the prefect common room, trying their best to appear invested in the meeting. She could easily compile a list of better ways to spend her time than listening to Potter, of all people, bossing everyone around as the new head boy. Merlin knows what he'd done to earn that badge.
Lily Evans stood beside him, arms crossed but smiling warmly at the gathered students. "First things first," she said, glancing at her notes, "we're expecting a larger turnout this year, so crowd control is going to be key. We need all prefects on board to help ensure everything runs smoothly."
Nearby, Octavia Winslow and Krisztofer Dobos from Ravenclaw shared a glance.
"Are we assigning specific patrol areas?" Octavia asked. "...or a schedule?"
Lily shook her head. "No. Sandly, we need to keep things under tighter control this year. So, we want each prefect to keep an eye on every section of the castle—entrances, corridors, the Great Hall, and areas outside. If you see anything suspicious, don't hesitate to call for help."
A collective groan rippled through the table at the mention of patrols. "Ugh, come on! Not again," Dave Holloway from Hufflepuff said, slumping back in his chair.
"Seriously," Nora Merridew added, rolling her eyes. "It's a Yule Ball! We want to enjoy it, not spend it policing everyone."
"Stop being dramatic," Regulus said coolly, raising an eyebrow at the moaning prefects.
"Easy for you two to talk," the new Gryffindor prefect replied, crossing her arms. "Unlike you, we don't have the luxury of attending high-society balls one after another."
Danica, sitting quietly beside Regulus, let out a small, barely audible sigh. "Honestly, be glad you don't," she murmured.
"Besides, what's with you, Potter?" Nora continued, directing her gaze at James. "Should I remind you that all these ridiculous rules are being brought up because of your spectacle last year?"
James grinned proudly, leaning back in his chair. "What can I say? It was legendary!"
"Yeah, legendary for the wrong reasons," Evan scolded, shooting James a playful glare. "You nearly got the whole of Gryffindor detention."
"Mere details, Lilyflower," James replied, shooting her a wink.
Lily rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile.
Regulus leaned closer to Danica, his warm breath tickling her ear a little. "Those two should just get a room already," he murmurred quietly.
"I give it two weeks."
"You and your bets," he chuckled, shaking his head.
"All right, everyone, let's wrap this up." Lily's voice cut through. "I've got a schedule here for the decorations committee, along with a list of roles for the evening. Make sure to take a copy before you leave," she said, handing out sheets of parchment as she walked around the table. "And if you have any questions, don't hesitate to reach out. Let's make this ball one to remember!"
The prefects muttered their thanks as they grabbed the papers and started to rise from their seats. It was late, and the thought of still having to complete a hall patrol sounded like a nightmare. Danica glanced at Regulus, who was already shoving his parchment into his bag. Around them, the other prefects shuffled, stretching and yawning, some already chatting about their plans for the ball as they filed out of the prefect common room. She stood up and stepped closer to Regulus, "Meet me at the sofas in ten?"
He nodded and took her hand discreetly, squeezing it gently before letting go and walking out of the room.
Danica watched as the door clicked shut behind Regulus. She bent down to grab her piece of parchment, crouching slightly to tuck it into her bag when a voice broke the silence.
"Danica."
Straightening up, she turned to find Remus standing there, the last of the prefects having already filtered out. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, awkwardly looking down at his shabby leather shoes.
"Hey, Lupin," she replied, nodding in acknowledgment before turning back to her task, her focus unshaken by his presence. A moment passed, filled with an uncomfortable silence, until he cleared his throat, trying to break the ice.
"Um... so, about Sirius—"
She glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "What about him?"
He didn't answer, instead looking away and biting his lip as the silence stretched between them. She raised her brows in expectation, but he avoided her gaze, seemingly searching for the right words and failing. With a small shrug, she picked up her bag, ready to leave.
As she turned to go, his hand shot out, gripping her wrist to stop her. "Wait," he said, almost urgently, his voice carrying a hint of desperation. "What did you mean by... looking out?"
She froze, glancing first at him and then down at his hand on her wrist. He seemed to realize his hold on her a second too late, quickly releasing her, his face flushed. "Sorry," he mumbled, looking slightly mortified.
She raised her hand and rubbed her wrist with a wry smile. "Here I thought I'd be hearing news about your dating life, Lupin," she quipped.
Unfazed, he kept his eyes on her, clearly not in the mood for small talk. "Sirius is an idiot," he said.
"Gee, really?"
"It didn't register what you said to him. At the tower," he muttered, his gaze fixed on her, as if trying to unravel a mystery.
She crossed her arms, arching a brow. "What did I say, Lupin?"
"You... warned him."
Danica gave a casual shrug, "I say a lot of things that can be misinterpreted. Must've been one of those moments."
"If there's one thing I know about you, Danica..." He paused, as if considering his words carefully. "It's that you never say what you don't mean."
"And that's why I'd rather say nothing, Lupin." She exhaled sharply, "What is it that you want me to say?"
He immediately stepped closer, his brows furrowed in urgency, his voice a near whisper-shout. "Anything you know about this war."
"War?" she played dumb.
But he didn't buy it, his expression hardening. "Yeah, one that potentially involves us all. You know that all too well, Danica. Don't you?"
She looked away, closing her eyes for a moment as she weighed the risk of saying anything. But Remus was reasonable, wasn't he? If there was anyone she could trust with a sliver of truth, it was him.
"You're not involved in anything... stupid, are you?" she asked, a trace of worry in her voice, probing for any hint that the Marauders might be tied up in something dangerous—some kind of resistance.
He hesitated, his jaw tightening. "Not yet."
A sinking feeling pooled in her stomach, her mind flashing back to the Death Eater meeting at the Rosier manor last year. She'd hoped—maybe even convinced herself—that Peter's presence there was part of some double-agent ploy, a necessary deception. But now, as she glanced back at Remus, everything clicked. Peter wasn't a spy. He was just... a traitor.
She took a steadying breath, deciding to give Remus something.
She took a slow, steady breath, choosing her words carefully. If Remus was going to understand, he'd need something specific—yet just vague enough to keep her safe.
"If you're trying to avoid stupid moves," she began, "look out for the ones who disappear when things get rough but are quick to take credit when it's easy."
.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.
Danica hurriedly closed the heavy door of the Slytherin common room behind her, the thick wood thudding against the stone wall with a dull thump. She leaned against the cool surface of the door for a moment, catching her breath.
"Took you longer than ten minutes."
Her gaze darted across the room to find Regulus lounging on the leather sofa in front of the fireplace. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and the light from the fire danced in his dark hair.
"People just can't seem to get enough of me, you know.," Danica couldn't help but roll her eyes, her lips curling into a bratty smirk.
Regulus chuckled, pushing himself off the sofa lazily, the fabric creaking slightly under his weight. "I might be having some competition here."
"A full army's worth."
Regulus grinned and stepped closer, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. "Ready?"
Danica stepped aside, opening the heavy door with a flick of her wrist, the hinges creaking softly in the process. "Ladies first," she teased him with a squinted-eyed grin.
"How very chivalrous of you," he rolled his eyes, gently taking her cold hand into his and shoving them into his pocket. Together, they stepped into the dimly lit corridor, where the flickering torches cast dancing shadows on the stone walls. The warmth of the common room faded behind them.
"These fucking dungeons..." Danica shivered from the cold, damp air of the dungeon corridors. "I mean, honestly, Salazar had an entire castle to choose from, and he chose to live in a crypt?
"Honestly, these dungeons are insufferable," Regulus said, rubbing his arms against the chill. "I can't imagine why Salazar thought this was a fitting place for living. It's like he wanted to create a place where everyone would be perpetually miserable."
"Oh, look at you." Danica playfully shoved at his side. "Weren't you just singing its praises last year in front of the first years? You made it sound like the ultimate hangout."
Regulus shot her a glance, half-annoyed and half-smiling. "I was just trying to be a good prefect. Doesn't mean I actually liked it."
They fell into a comfortable silence, walking side by side up the spiraling staircase. The stone walls felt even colder as they climbed higher.
When they reached the moving stairs, they paused for a moment, watching the steps shift and slide. They climbed the stairs carefully, the sounds of their footsteps echoing softly in the quiet corridors of Hogwarts. As they patrolled the upper floors, they encountered the occasional teacher making their rounds or students sneaking around after curfew.
"Just keep moving," Danica said to a pair of first-years caught trying to tiptoe back to their dormitory. They hurried past, looking sheepish as Regulus shot them a warning glance.
"You're being too forgiving, Danica," Regulus nudged her. "You should've docked a few points for that."
Danica didn't reply right away. Regulus raised a brow at her in question, "You okay?" he asked in slight worry.
"I got the invitations," she said, glancing up at him.
Regulus stopped in his tracks, furrowing his brows as he turned to face her. The moonlight streamed through a nearby window, casting a soft glow on his face and highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the dark lashes that framed his eyes.
"Malfoy had them this whole time," she added, looking down at the left pocket of her cardigan before meeting his gaze again.
His expression shifted as he understood the implication. He reached into her pocket and pulled out the neatly folded, golden envelopes. "No wonder he was such a dick about it," he mubled, hurriedly ripping one of them open and pulling out the crisp piece of parchment.
Danica watched intently as his eyes scanned the letter, her heart racing in her chest. She felt a knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach, a sense of dread creeping over her as she wondered what the invitation would be for.
Not even a minute later, he snorted, breaking the tension. "Greengrass, my ass." He handed her the letter, which turned out to be directed at her.
Danica took it from him, her fingers brushing against his as she unfolded the parchment. She looked down at the letter, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise at how little was written on the parchment.
'To: Miss Danica Lestrange
You are hereby summoned to a meeting with the council.
Date: January 1, 1978
Time: 2:00 AM
Location: Tea Room, Rosier Manor
Attendance is mandatory; no excused absences will be permitted.
Please note: Plus ones strictly prohibited.'
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A/N Do I smell another chapter?
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