someday, somehow → d.malfoy [discontinued]

026

sometimes it felt as if artemis were switching between two lives;

one in which she still affiliated with her beauxbatons friends (or, rather; cyrille and her friends) and spoke exclusively french to them, and another in which she'd essentially cut ties with her friends in slytherin, save for blaise. then every morning, she awoke hoping to fall out of such a dream. of course; it wasn't all in her head—every day she dressed to fit into the beauxbatons girls' circle (often a plain blouse tucked into a skirt with tights or dress pants, paired with shiny black shoes which required regular polishing) and sought them out. they were, consistently, either in the beauxbatons carriage or walking around the ground floor of the castle.

"do you still even have your uniform, artemis?" one of the girls asked. artemis flicked her gaze up and saw, with a rush of heat against her cheeks, that all of the other girls had already trained their eyes, clad in mascara, upon her. "hmm?" the girl across from artemis prompted once more.

"well, yes," artemis started, her voice coming out far too slight and delicate for her liking. "yes, i do. but it's not in my trunks here." the girl who'd asked flicked her golden hair over her shoulder until it brushed the curve of her waist, and pursed her tinted lips in response as her head turned to the friends next to her. she continued some conversation she'd been having prior to addressing artemis. it felt as if they complained about everything and anything. artemis could not guess why cyrille might find their company enjoyable—or even tolerable—yet the both of them stayed with the group. prompting thoughts of her only genuine friend within the group of six, artemis turned her head towards cyrille. she'd never dressed like this in the three years they had know each other. whereas previously, cyrille was openly fond of her worn leather jacket and wore boots too buckled and too bulky, now she seemed to have found herself melding into the style the other girls wore; delicate shoes, tights, pleated skirts and designer blouses. and makeup. it also occurred to artemis that, save for the feasts at the end of october, she'd barely seen cyrille eat. and, indeed; she appeared bonier, and clothes on her seemed baggier.

"what?" cyrille snapped, her eyebrow cocked and her eyes judging.

artemis said, turning her head away and shoving her hands into the pockets of her trousers, "nothing."

"aren't you supposed to sit at your table?"

cyrille asked artemis as their group filtered into the great hall for dinner. artemis blinked several times, opened her mouth once or twice whilst trying to find some sort of clever response. her head was empty, it seemed; and her heart was too full, pounding erratically against her ribcage as she stood in front of her shorter friend, aghast.

"um," she began. "yeah—yeah, i guess so. see you tomorrow."

"yep," was cyrille's only response; short and cutting as a blade as she'd already turned to the ravenclaw table and walked away, the heels of her shiny black shoes clicking rhythmically against the hard flooring. it was fine, artemis told herself. cyrille had a point—she was in slytherin, and therefore was expected to sit at her house table. she'd just assumed that no one would mind; what with her scarce collection of friends at her house table, and the fact that she would most certainly not see cyrille and the other beauxbatons students much after the end of the school year. still, she scanned the table decorated in emerald-green and silver for a face she would be able to dine with. there were none—blaise would likely prefer to sit with draco, pansy and theodore, and no one else in slytherin house artemis deemed familiar enough or friendly enough for her liking. alone it was, artemis told herself as she found herself sliding onto the bench some distance between a group of second years and another group consisting of sixth years. tucking her dark hair (it had gotten rather long and annoying within the past month) into a harried knot at the base of her neck, artemis shovelled a serving of roast vegetables and a chicken leg onto her plate, wishing to disappear so no one would witness her isolation.

"you look depressingly alone." artemis jumped away from the voice. she had not even realised that someone had sat next to her—a turn of her head revealed said someone to be hadie knight. artemis had barely seen her at all since the end of term. she supposed their relationship (if one could call it that) did not bleed beyond classrooms; in which they got along rather well. "lucky for you, so do i. mind if my lonely arse joins yours?"

"err, sure," artemis muttered. hadie was, for lack of a better word, blunt—and, in some way, she reminded artemis of how cyrille used to be. hadie wore a pair of pale, worn jeans and a navy knitted jumper that swallowed her torso. her shoes—a pair of laced black boots—also appeared to have been used a rather fair amount. her hair, a mess of dirty blonde curls, remained free and swung forward as she reached forward to serve herself dinner. throughout dinner, hadie's utensils were barely touched; majority of what she ate consisted of chicken legs, which she tore through as if she'd been starved—her fingers coated in oil and seasoning. hadie was actually rather beautiful, artemis thought. it was not difficult to get lost in her indelicate personality and clever remarks, unnoticing of her features. she was neither feminine nor masculine, with angular eyebrows and pointed brown eyes, a straight nose, and lips a colour in between toffee and peony-pink. perhaps she intimidated people with the way she sat (with one foot propped onto the bench, back curled forwards, and her knee pressed against the edge of the table) or the way she held herself (quite ungracefully and relaxed) or the way she spoke—though, artemis rather appreciated the way she never tried to sugarcoat anything.

"you going to the ball with anyone?" hadie asked, suddenly; licking her fingers.

"yeah," artemis said. "with blaise zabini. you?"

hadie paused, sucked her teeth for a moment before she responded; "nah." and then she'd bid artemis goodnight, standing from her place at the table and walking away with surprising speed as her shoes scuffed against the floor.