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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
making amends part two
BETTY STOOD, STARING out the window at the falling snow. She held her small overnight bag with a nice dress and some pajamas in it — the very one she'd packed five days ago, unpacked two days ago and repacked that morning. Her hair was neat, her heeled brown Mary Janes were perfectly facing the fireplace as a small draft moved the bottom of her Hufflepuff cloak. She could smell the lingering coffee that Remus had made early that morning. After all, the grinds were still splayed all over the sink — not having been washed out. The snow fell peacefully over their sleepy neighborhood. Most of their neighbors were muggles, they had their suspicions about one old man who lived a bit farther away, but had never mustered the courage to ask.
This was not the sort of place that wealthy young families moved to, so there were only a few children out — one blonde girl who couldn't have been more than five was building a snow man and a little brunette boy who looked about ten was pirouetting about. She heard her father and Remus talking upstairs — they were trying to be quiet, probably so Betty wouldn't hear because they were probably talking about her ( Betty would bet that Lyall was telling Remus to keep her safe in the increasingly turbulent political climate ). And she had her suspicions that it was related to that morning's Prophet headline.
She couldn't bring herself to look at the innocent piece of paper — one that was wrought with news of sorrow and destruction, but if you turned a few pages, the wedding dress of Narcissa Malfoy was in full display. However, curiosity ate away at her insides — she wanted to know what was so bad that her father wouldn't include her. She turned her gaze away from the boy and girl and looked at the black bold font.
WIZARDING FAMILY KILLED IN DEATH EATER ATTACK. MINISTER WARNS MUGGLEBORNS AND HALF BLOODS TO BE CAUTIOUS, BUT CLAIMS ALL IS WELL.
She immediately adverted her eyes as she felt a pit in her stomach grow. She instantly regretted looking over to know what the whispers were about. She knew that these days would come, hell, they'd been there, but Hogwarts was so good at ignorance. It was so good at becoming an escape — a fantasy — a watered down version of the outside world. Perhaps, that was the most magical part about it, although, as the days grew darker and she became more and more afraid to snuff out the light at the thought of what was lurking in the shadows, she felt herself outgrowing it. Like her place was not at Hogwarts anymore, but they all say we want to grow up until we're fully grown, then we want to be young and free again. Alive.
