Dances, Deception and Death Eaters

Chapter 9

The ink on the parchment blurred as Evie re-read her own words, her hand trembling slightly. It had taken her longer than usual to write to Draco this time. She had done everything she could to be the best when it came to her dance examination, and though she passed at the top of her class, Madame Maxime and Professor Carraway still found something to pick on. She didn't know how to tell him everything—how to explain the relentless cruelty she faced without sounding weak, or worse, broken. But Draco always understood. He didn't judge, he didn't pry. He just... understood.

She dipped her quill into the ink pot once more, heart heavy with the weight of what she was about to say.

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Dear Draco,

I can't take much more of this.

I've tried. I've done what they asked—I stopped the pranks, I've stopped retaliating. I'm trying to be what they want me to be. But these girls... they're vicious. It's like they know exactly how far they can push me before I break.

You always said Beauxbatons was all about appearances, and you were right. On the surface, everything looks perfect. But behind those polished walls, there's darkness, Draco. I see why we're forced to focus so much on healing charms here. I've needed it more than I ever thought possible.

One good thing, I guess—I'm nearly an expert at healing spells now. It's amazing what you can learn when you're forced to patch yourself up every other week.

I haven't told anyone. I can't. Madame Maxime has made it clear—if I cause any more trouble, if I don't keep my head down, I won't make it back to Hogwarts. I just... I just have to survive this. One more year. A year and a quarter, really. That's all.

I don't know how much longer I can handle it, though. Not like this.

Yours,

Evie

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The response from Draco came faster than she expected, a sharp edge to his usual graceful script.

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Evie,

What the hell are you talking about?

They're beating you?

Are you serious right now? I knew Beauxbatons was messed up, but this—

Tell me exactly what happened. I'm not letting this go, Evie. You need to tell me everything. What have they done to you?

I swear, if I were there, I'd make sure those girls never laid another hand on you. You don't deserve this. Not for a second. And don't even think about telling me to forget about it. I'm furious, Evie. You can't keep letting them get away with this.

If you're hiding injuries, you need to tell someone. I don't care if it means you'll be in trouble. There has to be a way out of this.

Write back. Tell me what happened.

D.

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Evie stared at Draco's letter for a long time, chewing on her lip. She knew he would react like this. Draco had always been protective of her, in his own way. Draco had his family's impossible expectations—demands he could never truly meet, no matter how hard he tried.

He had never told her the full story, but she had pieced enough of it together to know that Draco's life with his father was brutal. His father's wrath had left him with invisible scars as deep as her own, and yet he still managed to find strength. He even kept a secret so precious, so dangerous, that if his father ever found out...