Chosen || Draco Malfoy

15 - Snuffles

Dumbledore finally showed his face the day before we were to return home for the summer.

"The Order of the what?" I spluttered, still angry that I'd been left to deal with events on my own without receiving any guidance or support from the school that caused all of this drama in the first place.

"Phoenix," Dumbledore repeated calmly as he sat back in his chair behind his desk. "Just a small army of few selected witches and wizards of my choosing. Without the Ministry's backing, it's all we have, I'm afraid."

He waved his hand over the occupants of the room. McGonagall, Snape and a scruffy looking black dog.

I looked at them agog, wondering if I'd stumbled across an episode of Scooby fucking Doo.

"For your safety," Dumbledore continued, his eyes studying me intently, "you will be spending the summer at Snuffles' house where you will be joined by your parents. I'm sure he'll make you all feel very welcome."

"Who the fuck is Snuffles?!" I cried in dismay, my plans for the summer quickly evaporating.

"That would be the dog," Snape drawled, a smirk twitching at his lips. "But don't let the smell put you off."

This had got to be some kind of sick joke.

"All will be revealed in good time," Dumbledore chuckled softly. "I'm afraid though, until then, this is all the information I can share. Walls have ears, after all."

"Oh, you'll love Snuffles," Ron sniggered when I departed this news to him later as we hovered in the Entrance Hall just before the leaving feast. "Especially if you're into those dark, brooding types."

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded, whacking his arm, "have some respect! He's just lost his godson!"

Ron immediately looked shamed. And I was left wondering what the fuck Hermione was going on about.

*****

The leaving feast made me want to slit my wrists.

No one at the Hufflepuff table wanted a bar of me, every single one of them glaring at me when Dumbledore made a tearful eulogy about Harry Potter, acting as though I'd personally murdered him myself.

It's what they were all thinking, anyway.

Dumbledore did not help matters when he called me up in front of the entire school to collect my winnings.

Instead of cheering and applause, I received boos and hisses as I hastily grabbed the bulging bag of coins.

"Here," I said, surreptitiously dropping it in Fred's lap as I passed by the Gryffindor table. "Spend it on something funny."

I didn't know what had made me do it. It just felt like something Harry would have approved of.

I spent the rest of the feast in a daze, the sight of the black flags reminding me too much of the state of my heart.

I failed to see how I could ever feel anything but complete and utter numbness.

Pressing my fingertips to my jaw, I was hit with a heavy disappointment that I could no longer feel the bruising that Draco Malfoy had inflicted.

*****

So, Snuffles the dog turned out to be an escaped convict on the run from murder charges.

But at least he had a cool house.

*****

I started to find ways to feel pain.

It was the only thing that stopped the numbness. Nothing seemed to work though, and I wondered if it was because I was too much of a coward to do it.

I never seemed to allow the knife to break my skin... never hit myself hard enough.

Once, I even attempted to turn my wand on myself and shout 'Crucio!"

But nothing happened.

Frustration tore at me, and it didn't help that I was being driven slowly insane at being locked up all summer long with my fucking parents.

Despite the fact that we were in the Orders headquarters, and despite the fact that our 'visitors' insisted Voldemort had returned, they still looked skeptical about my story.

"She's always had quite the imagination," my mother said when Sirius mentioned she must be proud of having a daughter who had managed to outrun Voldemort.

"That's our Cece," Dad chuckled, ruffling up my hair as though I was three fucking years old.

"Don't worry about them," Sirius confided in me as he made me a hot chocolate one night when he discovered me sitting alone in kitchen with the lights off. "It's difficult for parents to accept that their child has faced such terrible torture."

"It shouldn't have been me, though," I found myself sobbing, "it should have been Harry. He should be sat here right now with you, not me."

His face crumpled briefly, and I knew he was wishing it was Harry sat where I was.

"But that's not what happened," Sirius said, quickly composing himself as he placed a steaming mug down in front of me. "It is you that is here, and I promise that I'll do everything in my power to help support you through this."

I smiled warmly up at him, glad that Ron wasn't wrong about some things.

Sirius Black was hot.

******

The rest of the summer went by in a kind of dull blur, with Molly making things worse by forcing us all to do thankless chores.

But I was glad of the company, having Ron and Hermione there, suffering through it with me.

Dumbledore visited for the occasional Order meeting, but he refused to acknowledge me, not even looking me in the eye when I cornered him one evening in the hallway and demanded that he give me answers.

"I'm a busy man, Cecilia," he replied shortly when I asked how the hunt for Voldemort was coming along, "we'll have time to catch up at school."

Cunt.

*****

Boy, was I glad when the first of September rolled around.

I'd miss that hot dog, though.

*****