Duplicitous | T.N.

XXXIV • Jovial Encounters

Barely a day had gone by since Aurora had been pulled from her class. Barely a day had passed since she received the shocking, tear jerking news of the fate of Arthur Weasley. Barely a day had passed since Hermione and herself took comfort in one another and prayed for the well-being of the Weasleys and Harry.

Barely a day had gone by... but it felt like a week, a month, a year.

She had dearly regretted her most recent interaction with her friends. She regretted the fury she had displayed, the lack of mercy that had all occurred under the spotlight she had been placed under, the light that reflected red hot rays of brightness, of fury.

At first she had been confused as to why Harry had been missing also, but was soon informed that he was the one who warned Professor Dumbledore of Mr Weasleys state, through a dream... or a nightmare, whichever is more appropriate.

She had been told he described it as though he had been gazing through the attackers mind. Although Rory didn't know much, she did know of his connection to the dark lord but she had only then guessed that Occlumency and Legilimency were now part of the dangerous game that raged between the two wizard nemeses. Harry would have to learn, quickly, at that, to defeat an advance Legilimens such as Voldemort.

The thoughts and secrets of the mind could only be kept so hidden in their world, hopefully Harry had learnt to volt his thoughts from the Darkest Wizard of all time. If he hadn't they could all potentially be doomed.

Aurora couldn't wait for Christmas break. She was desperate to visit the Weasleys and Harry. She wanted to nurse them, to comfort them, to help them like they had once done her but she couldn't do anymore than send heartfelt letters from such a distance. So once the very last day of school came to its close end she was thankful.

•••

Theodore had been draped in his own horrid layers of trepidation and apprehension. His worries had been dragging him down for days. Tied, tangled and bound by the strings of his fears, he received a letter from his father; Mr Nott requested for Theodore's return that holiday.

The young Slytherin only knew he was nearing the day he too would bear the mark that symbolised no hope. That symbolised the permanent tightening of the strings that held him down. That symbolised the day The Dark Lord and his father could play him like a puppet, and only would they cut the rope that bound him once he met his untimely death, and he would fall like a marionette with severed strings.

His mood had risen amongst his anxieties. The more worried he became the more stubborn he was, the more he dreaded of the holidays the more temperamental he became. His anxiousness came hand in hand with his anger. A deadly mix when it came to Theodore.

Enraged and dreadful, Theodore practically stomped on his arrival to the library, second by second his patience more thin more delicate. He didn't know how he would act around Aurora for their final study session of the term, he figured he'd take his anger out on her if pushed too far, and for the afternoon, he honestly didn't care.

The two had failed to notice each others state of mind whilst engulfed too deeply in their own. Perhaps they could've brought comfort to one another, but they only sat there oblivious to the others, tapping feet and biting tongues.

Rory was the first to attempt to ignore her current state of anxiety and continue with the writing, the state she moved her quill at was enough to cramp her fingers backwards and stiff. She was worrying faster than her brain was processing, once it reached the point she was unable to focus once again she began to repeatedly tap on her page.