𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍

❃ failure

❃

𝑴𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆 𝑪𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒆

"Come on May, we're going to be late,"

Daphne shouted from the main corridor as I slipped silver rings onto my fingers and hoops into my ears in the downstairs powder room.

Pansy, Daphne and I had slept over at the Greengrass Residence for the past week and a half, awaiting our travels to Platform 9 ¾. Our days consisted of filling her hot tub with bottles of bubble bath, binge watching Full House which Pans had very kindly introduced us to, and snarfing down every possible meal in Daph's very extensively large refrigerator.

Meanwhile, we spent our nights smoking on the rooftop, gazing out over the rich estate, Daphne's muggle Porsche sitting in the smoothed pebble driveway.

It took fifteen minutes for her to wrestle Astoria away from her door after screaming, "Mum, I smell weed!" only for Daph to slam it profusely in her face, her little sister's black hair getting stuck in the door.

There was a lot of scolding that night.

For the most part our summer break had been incredible. Daphne's parents were like family to me; Pans and I practically lived there. We had our own rooms and everything, even though we tended to all crash in Daph's bed entangled under her sheets fighting for blankets and warmth. We'd wake up piled on top of each other. Three best friends; Two bisexuals and a lesbian sleeping together in a bed.

How charming.

I'd received mail from Naevah and Theodore over the summer, none from Draco or Blaise. I wasn't at all surprised. Draco and I have never seen eye to eye. Every conversation ended in a handful of harmful words, crossed arms, an awkward silence, and one of us storming in the opposite direction.

Daphne insisted it was sexual tension.

It was just tension.

The only passion I have for the arrogant piece of shit is a passion for hating his guts.

We scurried out the door with our suitcases, piling into Daphne's car.

"You shouldn't get shotgun you little shit, you're two years younger than me," she yelled at Astoria, who was now sitting in the front seat, her Mother in the driver's.

"Let her sit Daph, you all can pile in the back. Another word from you I'll make you sit in the middle," her Mother rolled her eyes, Mr. Greengrass giving her a kiss on the cheek through the rolled down car window.

"I'll take the middle don't worry about it," Pansy shuffled in between us, wrapping her arms around our shoulders, resting her feet on the compartment console.

"Daph's room still smells like fucking weed," Astoria plugged her nose jokingly, sticking her tongue out at her sister.

"Language," her Mother seethed.

"So she can smoke weed but I can't say 'fuck'? What kind of fucking rule is that?" Astoria pouted.

"You're just jealous, how do you even know what weed smells like?" Daph argued.

"At least I didn't fail potions last year," she switched the subject.

"At least I don't have to use hair gel to slick back a pony tail,"

"Girls, I'm trying to drive. Shut it," her Mother sighed, shaking her head as her eyes covered by Prada sunglasses turned back to the road.

"But-"

"Astoria, I couldn't give less of a shit if she smokes weed, I did it, she does it, you'll do it too,"

I snorted at her Mother's remark. Daphne's mum never ceased to make me amused.