The Malfoy Project

𝟗𝟐 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

༻⚜༺    

Monday afternoon, I waited for Ainsley by the back door of the castle so we could go down to Hogsmeade together. When she finally arrived, ten minutes late, the first thing I noticed was her haggard appearance. Her skin was sallow, and her cheeks were sunken and dull, the dark circles under her eyes heavy as bruises.

"Didn't sleep well?" I said.

Instead of saying yes or no, she gave a noncommittal shrug. "Is it very bad?" she asked, her hands going to cover her face self-consciously. I pulled them away gently. "Quite," I joked, but she didn't smile.

"Sorry," she said. "I've just been tired. A lot of homework to catch up on."

"You look fine," I said in honesty. Admittedly, it was a startling contrast to her usual, apple-cheeked cheeriness, but not jolting enough to cause me any immediate concern. Looking past exteriors is a habit I'd incidentally picked up since getting to know Ainsley. It was how I fell in love with her in the first place. And maybe I'd taken her undying luminosity for granted, or maybe I'd genuinely thought that she really had looked fine, but in my excitement for the day ahead, I decided not to press the matter further. I simply figured I would brew her a mild Dreamless Sleep Potion when we got back.

We trod down the path to Hogsmeade in silence. I normally wouldn't have minded; quiet with Ainsley was always comfortable, but she did love to chat, and she was being unusually uncommunicative. Assuming that she was nervous about the surprise, I reminded her that it was not expensive.

"I know," she said without looking at me.

She was wearing an ivory linen shirt, short sleeves, tucked into a red shin-length skirt dotted with tiny white daisies. I'd never seen that skirt before, and I pointed out as such.

"It was Hannah's," she explained. "One of her old summer skirts. She was kind enough to give it to me."

"It's nice," I said.

Here, she looked up at me and gave me a little half-smile, her earthen eyes throwing off the sunlight, and I remember feeling very pleased with myself for saying that. It was going to be a good day, I could tell. The afternoon was bright and sunny. It had rained early in the morning during classes, but by lunchtime the clouds had cleared to unveil a clean, unblemished blue sky, and had remained that way thus far.

I remember it so vividly, in such bright, sharp detail: the quiet of the hillside, the breeze tickling my cheek. The back of Ainsley's head, half of her hair held back sloppily with the black silk ribbon. The flash of her white trainers against the khaki road, the smell of warm sunflowers in the air. Our future was uncertain, but everything, in those five minutes walking down to Hogsmeade, was sweet and glorious gold.

The village was relatively empty, which was typical of a Monday afternoon, since its visitors and patrons consisted mainly of Hogwarts students and only Eighth Years had free periods then. I spotted a couple of Ravenclaws here, a pair of Gryffindors there; the rest were wandering witches and tired wizards stopping by for rest and refreshment on their way elsewhere.

"It's quiet today," I remarked. Whether she hadn't heard or chose to ignore me, Ainsley didn't answer.

"Do you mind if I run a quick errand first?" I said. "I just have to pick up something."

She responded with a soft, disinterested "mm", barely audible. Thinking back on it now, it was apparent that her mind had been elsewhere, but at the time, I had quite forgotten about her visit to the hospital. And because I didn't want to cause an unnecessary argument and ruin the day, I didn't say anything. How I wish I had.