Loyal | Tom Riddle

7: Howlers and Prophets

"Is she all right?" Will asked, shoveling a spoonful of stew into his mouth. "She's been awfully quiet the past few weeks."

John shrugged. "She barely even talks to me anymore. I think she's shutting everybody out after what happened with her dad... I don't know what to do."

"Well, have you tried talking to her?" Halia suggested as if it were obvious.

"I need to give her space," John replied, shaking his head.

The Hufflepuff girl sighed. "I think a few weeks has been enough space, hasn't it? She needs somebody to talk to."

John glanced over his shoulder to where Arabella sat alone, reading. "She's never been like this before."

"Then help her," Will urged. "She's your girlfriend."

Taking a deep breath, John rose and seated himself next to her. She didn't even look up at him or acknowledge his presence.

"Hi," he said quietly.

"Hello," Arabella replied distantly.

John coughed, unsure of which question to ask first. "Er... how are you? How've you been?"

"Fine," she said automatically.

He looked at her skeptically, not wanting to pry any further but also wanting the whole, complete truth from her.

She closed her book suddenly, shifting in her seat to face him. Unable to look him in the eyes, she stared down at her hands, which were twisting nervously in her lap.

"To be honest," Arabella began softly, "not all that great."

John's shoulders relaxed as he reached for one of her hands, clasping it tightly in his own. "You can tell me anything, you know that?"

She nodded, biting her quivering lip. "I just -- oh, John, I wish there was something I could do! -- it's everything. Everything's falling apart, and I don't know what to do."

He embraced her for the first time in what felt like years, letting her familiar scent of vanilla and sweet apples fill his lungs.

"I'm so sorry that I didn't try to talk to you," John said. "I-I should have been there for you, Ara, and I wasn't, and I'm really sorry. Oh, God, I'm a bloody idiot."

She laughed, causing tears to roll down her cheeks. "But you're my bloody idiot."

In that instant, everything seemed a little better. The candles glowed brighter, the room grew warmer, and nothing seemed quite so bad after all.

And then the post arrived, with a large snowy owl delivering a blood red envelope to Abraxas Malfoy.

His pale face drained of colour, leaving it even whiter than it usually was. Arabella decided that her day was already much better, if possible.

"Oh, Merlin," Penny Gregors murmured under her breath. "He'd better open that."

Bracing himself for the magnified shouting that was about to burst everyone's ear drums, Malfoy delicately opened the Howler, as if that would prevent it from devouring him alive.

"Abraxas Lucius Malfoy!" a woman's shrill voice screeched. "How dare you attempt to curse another student! It just had to be a Prefect, didn't it?"