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"I already told you, I'm not coming back." Was the first thing that came from Zara's lips as soon as she took a seat around the table.
Her parents hadn't even sat down yet —she was the only one presiding over the table— but she could already see their stares fixed on the nape of her neck, and she couldn't stop her mouth from letting out what she was always trying to save herself.
"Why not? It might be good for you." Her father commented, putting the three plates in front of them and serving the drink.
"In what world would it be good for me to come back to the place where my best friend was murdered?"
That comment chilled the blood of Thomas and Julia Markey. They shared a knowing look, a pressure in their throats that left them no choice but to swallow hard. Zara looked at them, defiant, but with the same sensation stuck in her chest. Her jaw clenched, instantly regretting having uttered those words.
It wasn't the first time she had made any of those comments —frigid, they didn't give her parents a chance to argue— and though they deeply hurt her parents' hearts, she couldn't help it. She felt that paraphrasing her pain in words would be less hurtful than keeping it inside or doing it physically.
"Beauxbatons has rejected your request to retake the year there. You don't know French, Zara, and they don't teach in any other language."
"I can speak French. Oui, oui..." trailed off the blonde girl. Her parents' eyebrows shot up in amusement, almost forgetting her previous words. "I can learn French."
"Not in a month, love." Stated her mother. "Besides, the Order needs us here, and we can't send you to France all alone."
"Oh, fuck the Order." She spoke without thinking and quickly covered her mouth, knowing that swearing in front of her parents was prohibited. "Is the Order more important than you only child's wellbeing?"
"That won't work, honey. You need to go back to Hogwarts, take your fifth year again and then we'll see, okay? But this year you're staying, and that's final. So finish your meal, go upstairs and pack your things because we're leaving and you don't even have a suitcase yet."
Zara put all the food she could into her mouth, opened it so her parents could check it out, and rolled her eyes. Thomas chuckled but fell silent when his wife kicked him under the table.
Usually their daughter wasn't like that. Yes, she had the gift of the word and was charismatic, also prone to speak to them with trust, as if they were friends and not family, but since the death of Cedric Diggory, Zara Markey had suffered a radical change.
The first few days she had locked herself in her room. She didn't want to eat or see anyone, which her parents could understand, but as the days went by, the girl left her room without anyone going to demand anything from her. Her parents had been greatly surprised they thought Zara would still be in mourning —when the blonde hadn't even mentioned what had happened months ago and seemed determined to forget everything that had happened.
