5.0 °𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘

163 12 248
                                    

JINX; AUGUST

[THEODORE NOTT]

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

[THEODORE NOTT]

This was a dream. It had to be, right? No strange man had ever swept a child away into a magical world. That stuff only happened in fairy tales and my life so far had been anything but a fairy tale.

I was no princess. I was dirty and scrappy and that's how I liked it. This was no castle. I had simply been hallucinating. I made it all up. In fact I thought that I would open my eyes and realize that I was at another foster family. One that I would soon be kicked out of and the cycle would repeat itself

This was fake. Everything was all fake. I had to have made it up. That's why I didn't tell Apollo about the magic aspect of my dream. The idea of magic was ridiculous. There's no way in a million years he'd believe me. He would've thought that I was crazy.

"Hey." A snobbish voice uttered from above. Fluttering my eyes open, I saw him. Draco stood over me, already dressed up in spiffy clothing, his pajamas no where to be seen. "Mum sent me up. You need to get out of bed if you want anythin' to eat." He shoved my arm, a permanent frown dropped his face down. "Come on, Orphan Girl. I want my Comet Two-Sixty and mother promised to buy it for me once we get to Diagon Alley."

"You know, you can be kind of a jerk sometimes." I pointed out, pulling myself up against the rich dark headboard. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Cry me a river." Draco pressed on a passive agressive smile, arms crossed in front of his puffed out chest. "Now hurry up, before I make you." He then sharply turned his back to me, stomping out of my bedroom to his.

"Jerk." Muttering the insult under my breath, I stepped out of my bed. After a fast change into unsuitable Malfoy clothes—ratty cargo pants and a baggy t-shirt paired with Chuck Taylors—I headed downstairs. No sooner that I entered the dining room, a horrified gasp greeted me.

"Jinxon, Sweetheart, what are you wearing?" Auntie Cissa's eyes were doe-like, stuck on my figure. Uncle Lucius joined her stare, face twisted by his pinched mouth.

I shifted around uncomfortably in my unlaced converse, holding my arms behind my back. Did I really look that bad? This is what all the kids in the neighborhoods I frequented wore. This is what Apollo wore.

What did magic people wear? Did they want me to dress as decadently as Auntie Cissa, in a long black dress with lace and ruffles, that hugged her curves? I had no curves. I was me, Jinx. I was just a kid.

"What is that dreadful mess on your shirt?" Uncle Lucius inquired from the table, his eyes narrowing. He was referring to the horror graphic plastered across the cloth.

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌// 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐎𝐂Where stories live. Discover now