good girl

thirteen

~ I don't even know what I liked about you
Brought you around
and you just brought me down
Hate is a strong word
but I really, really, really don't like you
I really don't like you~

brat

"What've I done to get you to shut your mouth, Hufflepuff?" Malfoy speaks up after 10 minutes of silence. I'm beginning to regret sitting with him for these next couple of hours. Instead of replying, I scoff and just shrug, still looking out the window.

"Well if you're going to sulk, I can find somebody else to sit with," He speaks up again and I shrug once more.

"Do what you want, Malfoy. Nobody's stopping you," I breath out, not looking at him and crossing my arms over my chest.

"Are you seriously pouting right now?" He questions and I continue looking out the window.

Silence.

"Fine." He stands abruptly after he realizes I didn't plan on answering, knocking the table further into me in the process and opens the compartment door, storming out.

"Brat," He says under his breath just before he closes the door and I snap my head toward him.

"I heard that!" I shout after him and he makes a nasty face at me before walking away. I look out the window once more and rest my cheek on my knees. Mouse crawls across the table from where Malfoy was sitting and curls up next to me.

I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders when I drop my legs and unclasp my shoes, kicking them off onto the floor. I wiggle my toes and laugh lightly, looking over at Mouse.

"Had to let these puppies breathe," I joke and scratch under her chin. She meows in response, like she always does whenever anyone talks to her.

I turn my body so my back is pressed against the window and stretch my feet in the seat in front of me. Mouse takes this opportunity to hop into my lap and I absentmindedly pet her and before I know it, I'm having a dream.

"Have you ever heard the tale of the the Deathly Hallows?" My father asks, patting his lap for me to sit. I stand from my position on the ground where I was playing with my
toys and sit sideways on his lap, my feet on my mothers lap.

"I have not. Are you going to tell me?" I ask while looking up at my father. He laughs, looking over at my mother and then back to me and she laughs as well.

"How about this, I tell you a little bit now and everyday after dinner, I'll tell you a little more. Does that sound good my little flower?" He asks and taps my nose lightly. I giggle but nod and rest my head on my father's shoulder.

He rests his head on top of mine and inhales before he begins telling a story.

"This is all coming from my memory so don't
quote me on any of this, E," He says and squeezes his arm around me, causing another giggle to fall from my lips.

"I'll start by telling you of the philosopher's stone. This stone is said to cast immortality to those who behold it. It is apparently an extremely strong magic and it is said that the current holder, Nicholas Flamel, is over 600 years old," He begins softly and a yawn over takes my small body.

"How could one person live that long without their body giving up?" I ask and I feel my father's shoulder rise and fall, an indication he was laughing.

"It's just like magic isn't it?" He says and strokes my hair gently, placing a kiss to my forehead.

"Why would anyone want to live that long by themselves," My mother's soft voice echoes through my ears and she places a hand on top of my father's. He leans over and presses a soft kiss to her lips and I throw my hands over my eyes.