Malak Aboul Gheit is no stranger to suffering. To death. But she is neither a stranger to love.
The path of this young Egyptian witch as she joins Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy in 3rd year seemed uncertain, but she will soon be trapped i...
Malak reluctantly opened her eyes, blinking repeatedly, until her eyes got used to the growing light in the tiny living room.
Wait... living room?
The Egyptian frowned as realized where she was, looking up to find the source of the voice that had woken her up.
"Am I comfortable, Mals?" Charlie questioned from underneath her, still laying at the sofa as he had been the previous night.
"Very" shrugged Malak, sinking deeper into his chest and closing her eyes again.
"Baby..." he whispered.
"Huh?"
"You need to wake up" Charlie picked her up bridal style. "Today is the start of the term, remember?"
Malak's sleepy expression contorted in one of pure disappointment. She had never really minded school — in fact, it had always been something to look forward to for her. This year however, the sole idea of not having Charlie with her made her heart ache and she had to resist the urge to cry. She knew it was inevitable, but it had come too soon — far too soon— for her liking. She had always feared the prospect of a long-distance relationship, and now it's shadow was upon them.
"Hey," Charlie spoke and put her down and cupped her face between his hands. "It's going to be alright, Mals. A lot of things are happening this year at Hogwarts, bunny."
"You mean the start of N.E.W.Ts? Wow, yay, cannot wait" Malak faked excitement, but her face quickly went back to her previous sad expression.
Charlie looked at her intensely.
"We are going to be alright, I promise you" he said. "We are going to see each other very soon."
"Maybe... if you have time... like — don't feel that you have to—"
"Im going to stop you right there, bunny" he said, planting a soft, tender kiss on her lips. "As soon as you know the Hogsmade dates, you tell me, okay?"
"Yeah" she agreed pensively, looking down at her lap.
"Now you go finish your packing and I'll finish mine too."
Malak did as instructed almost mechanically, magically folding her clothes and arranging them neatly in her truck, together with her school books and other belongings, as the heavy rain splattered against the windows of the Burrow. In Egypt, rain meant good luck — it was a good omen, and Malak had always liked to think about it that way. But that morning it only contributed to the grey and gloomy atmosphere that signaled the end of the holidays.
