28: onism

254 5 0
                                    

Onism: (n.) the awareness of how little of the world you'll experience

——-

I would be lying if I said I didn't notice the harsh glares my family received from muggle parents on the platform. On the bright side, only muggles accompanying their (magical) child could make it to the platform, so it was a tiny bit safer than the muggle world.

Since Christmas Eve, the muggles have been completely and utterly obsessed with finding, and destroying, the wizarding world. The prophet has been reporting every single muggle news piece written about us, and according to a recent muggle report, an "anonymous source" talked about the war, blood purity prejudice, and our schools. Someone had broken the Statute of Secrecy.

The news got out to the wizarding world on December 30th, Coltyn and I's birthday. We walked downstairs to find my mom crying at the kitchen table while my dad comforted her. They wouldn't tell us what was wrong at first, but once Landon and Ayla were up, they gathered us in the living room.

I'd never seen my dad and Landon look scared, and my mom and Ayla were in tears. Coltyn and I sat numbly, the initial shock already passed six days prior. I told Coltyn on Christmas night, but he promised me he wouldn't say anything in case it died down.

Happy birthday to us. Yay 16.

The Malfoy's New Years Eve ball was extravagant, as always, but it was obvious that everyone was set on edge. Most families left soon after the clock hit midnight, and I wasn't even allowed to sleep over like I did the year before.

Although, it didn't necessarily matter if I went home or not, I've barely slept since Christmas Eve. When I'm laying in bed, all I can think about is the news report, the gun, the shattered glass. The fact that the waitress didn't hesitate to kill a group of fifteen and sixteen year olds terrifies me. It terrifies me that everyone living outside our little world is out for the blood of the people I love, myself included.

The ride to Hogwarts after Christmas break was somber. Our usual light and cheery atmosphere was intensely sobered from the incident in the early hours of Christmas Eve. Although it was a week ago, we were all still shaken up from it. I sat between the window and Draco, and I tried my best to ignore the suffocating environment in our cart.

Around an hour into the train ride, I peeled my eyes off the window, and observed the group in the cart. Everyone, save Draco and I, were dead asleep. Usually, we stay awake and gossip to no end on the ride to school, but if I had to take a guess, none of them could sleep alone anymore. Draco lazily drew circles with his finger on my palm, but the calming motion stopped as I shifted to face him.

"Have you been able to sleep?" I asked, just loud enough for him to hear.

"Not really," he admitted after a second "you?"

"No," I sighed. "Do you think we can find an empty cart to talk in? I don't want to wake them up."

The two of us interlocked our fingers, and silently got up. To our luck, the cart across from our previous cart was empty. Draco slid the door open, and stood to the side so I could enter. After he closed the door, Draco sat in one of the seats, and stretched his legs across it. I sat in his lap, and leaned into his chest while taking a deep breath. He rested his chin atop my head, and his arms locked around my waist. I put my hand over his before starting my rant.

"Every time I'm alone with my thoughts, I get flashbacks to that night. Not like horrible flashbacks, but little snippets of the night. I'll hear Carter yell at us. I'll see the window shatter. I'll see the waitress looking at us as if we're murders," I willed my voice to stay steady as I continued on "They want us dead, Draco."

losing game || d.m.Donde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora