Brutal. | Fred Weasley

five!

The chuckle that falls out of Nico Caspian's mouth is one that Aurelia has missed in her time away from home. Whilst she was able to see most of her Muggle friends when she visited, she never seemed to be able to catch Nico. Looking back, she should've fucking known, he was always too cool about witchy things that happened or slip of the tongues that she had.

"I knew you were a witch, but I didn't want to make it weird," he confesses when questioned. "Especially around the Muggles."

"Didn't want to make it weird?" she echoes in disbelief. "Nico, we could've done so much cool magic shit!"

Nico laughs again. "Don't look so surprised. And besides, we still can do so much cool magic shit. It was only a matter of time before you found out." Aurelia continues to stare at him, half accusingly and half excited out of her mind.

"What House is this again?" she asks suddenly. "Because my limited knowledge of Houses places you as a Gryffindor."

His friends snort and laugh at her assumption. "This is Hufflepuff, babes," he replies, the fake simpering voice they often use with each other in full effect.

"Hufflepuff?" she repeats, leaning back slightly with an exhale. "Fuck. That's pretty different from Gryffindor, right?"

His friends laugh again, less uneasy now that she's talking animatedly to Nico. It seems that the sense of unease is only lingering in the corners of the hall as she continues to talk with people no matter what House or what school they come from. Anyone who knows Nico (and that's a lot of people, he's one of the loudest mouthed Hufflepuffs to pass through the school) knows that he's got an insane sense of intuition when it comes to other people and many students trust his judgement on people. If she's cool with Nico, she's immediately cool with most of the student body.

That doesn't mean that the stares stop, though. In fact, three pairs of eyes are drilling into her from two tables over from where she talks with Nico. Fred Weasley, George Weasley and Lee Jordan are watching her with increasing confusion. At first, they'd thought that there was no way that someone like Aurelia Riddle could have many friends, but then she'd sat down and spoken quite familiarly with the entire Beauxbatons cohort, many of whom they hadn't seen smile since they'd gotten here in October, and had made them all laugh and chat like normal teenagers do. It's quite a difference from the quiet, sullen group that they'd had up until this point. And then, as though it was nothing, she'd gotten up and made a beeline to Nico Caspian, probably the coolest Seventh Year in school (and a personal friend of Fred and George), who had proceeded to greet her like an old friend. To say that they're confused is an understatement.

"So she's alright?" George suggests, his food almost forgotten as they watch her talk with Nico happily.

Fred shrugs. "I'd assume so. Nico's a cool guy and he's a Muggleborn. If she thought anything like her dad..." he shrugs again. They'd had so many preconceptions about her ever since they'd heard her name. Everyone had. It's no large stretch to say that most Wizarding parents gave a sigh of relief when they heard she'd be going to Beauxbatons. Far away from their children, far away from them— there's no chance for her to do any damage. But the rumour mill had still started working overtime when word spread that the daughter of You-Know-Who was reaching the age of attending Hogwarts.

Aurelia isn't blind to the British Wizarding public's opinions on her. She understands what her last name symbolises to them and understands that many families were destroyed by her father and what he stands for. But how that automatically translates to her, she has yet to understand. How someone can judge an eleven-year-old without ever meeting them and form an entire conclusion of them based on their parents alone, especially when she wasn't even raised by them, is still a complete mystery. She doesn't have the energy to fight it, even when she goes to Diagon Alley (Aurelia Riddle in Diagon Alley is a rare occurrence in itself, though, since she much prefers the French Place Cachée). She's not the most practiced at ignoring stares, but she's definitely used to pretending to be totally unbothered.

Soon, she's bidding Nico goodbye to return to the carriage with Fleur and her friends, reminding him that their plans this summer have to be wicked to make up for him not mentioning magic earlier. Halfway across the Entrance Hall and someone in Hogwarts uniform cuts in front of her. She catches herself from crashing straight into them by the edge of her toes. She looks up at the boy in front of her, eyes narrowed. His blonde hair is combed to perfection, clearly the most time consuming part of his appearance. His face is pale and pointed, all sharp features and old aristocratic superiority. Aurelia stands in front of him, his friends gathering behind him, silent and stoic. He got in her way and so he will move to let her through. She can feel her French friends all poising to defend her, but she's not concerned about any insults that could come from this boy. He is only a Malfoy, after all.

She raises an eyebrow when he doesn't say anything. "Can I help you?" she asks eventually, noticing people's eyes being drawn to the small crowd of Beauxbatons students facing Slytherin students.

"No. But we could help you," the blonde boy says. "I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy."

She looks him up and down. "Obviously," she drawls. "But I don't need help, Draco Malfoy, and certainly not yours. What I want, though, is to get through so I can go back to the carriage with my friends."

Clearly he hadn't been expecting such an instant rebuttal. His smile drops into a surprised frown, but he dutifully stands aside and she sweeps past.

"Next time you want to talk to someone, don't just cut them off on their way somewhere," she calls behind her before continuing out of the doors and into the night air. And from the Gryffindor table, three Fourth Year students are watching in surprise as Aurelia Riddle knocks an entire group of Slytherin students down with a single sentence.