The Heir

34 | blood

Draco
_______

It's been a week since Sage died...I mean murdered by her husband. My best friend was murdered, how am I supposed to get through this? Lucius isn't any help right now, he only thinks about Tom and his task.
Mayleene is crushed and Rosmerta too. I can't imagine what they must be going through - having their sister killed and their niece in the arms of the murderer.
Amelie. Now that the Dark Lord has his seven creations, or Horcruxes, as he calls it, he's unbreakable.
Poor girl. As long as she's alive, he is, too.
Soon, people will go after her like a meat.

I've been reading the sentences over and over for the whole morning. Soon, I'll memorize them.

I took this page from the diary in the tower before Amelie caught up with me on my mother's order. She knows Amelie took her diary and isn't exactly happy about it.

"Why did no one tell me about this!? Why did no one tell me what she fucking is?" I asked my parents and banged my fist against the hard surface of the kitchen counter.

It's evening, Amelie's still in the shower. I hope.

"You're not supposed to know, Draco..." mumbled my mother and tried to stoke my head. I put her hand down.

"So is it true? She's in danger?" I asked after a while, heavy breathing.

"The situation is bad, the Order of the Phoenix is already searching for the horcruxes..." said Lucius and drank his wine.

"How could he do this!? To his own daughter? Doesn't that person have a tiniest piece of love in him?"

"He does, Draco, just in his own way," answered Lucius.

Amelie
________

"I'll cut a few inches and then I'll do layers, alright?" I said and asked Hermione.

She's sitting in front of a mirror of the old abandoned bathroom. I'm standing right behind her and examining her big curly hair.

Never in my life have I thought I'd be doing this - helping Potter's friend and a mudblood. But I made my promise and here we are.

"Sure," she mumbled.

I stated cutting and trimming her hair into layers, hoping that this would help her get more volume on the whole head, not just on the shoulder ends.

"So, who are we doing this for? And please, don't tell me the ginger boy,"

"Actually-"

"No way! Do you seriously want ginger kids!?" I mocked her and laughed.

"Don't be mean," she folder her arms and frowned her face at me.

"I'm not, I'm just me,"

She sighed and looked to the ground.

"How do you do it?" She asked me after a while of silence.

"Do what?" I mumbled and cut a few inches from her curls. I'm pretending I know what I'm doing.

"How do you have so much confidence?"

"Oh..."

"Everybody wants you..." she whined.

"That's not true," or is it?