☞ 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲, 9𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 1996

My heart pounded in my chest as my hand reached to knock on my father's door. My actions felt as though they were not my own, as though my brain went into autopilot. What was I going to tell him? Would I dare mention Dobby and what the poor elf overheard? Would I dare mention mine and Harry's discovery? Would I dare mention the deal I've made with the Dark Lord's son?

"I have no time for visitors!" My father's cold and harsh words muffled by the wooden door called out, breaking me from my thoughts. I huffed at his attitude. What could that man be doing that's so important he can't have visitors? What if a student was in danger? Would he simply ignore them?

"Dad it's me." I answered my stubborn parent, only to hear shuffling and hushed inaudible whispers from the other side. I strained my ears in the hope of hearing what he was saying, to no avail.

Suddenly, the door swung open, revealing my father, dressed in his trademark black robes, standing behind his desk. "Sorry, hunny. I didn't know it was you." He spoke softly as I closed the door behind me. I shrugged him off and traipsed over to the black leather sofa that sat opposite the raging fireplace.

As I sat myself down, I noticed something out of place. There, left casually over the arm of the sofa was a Slytherin robe. Curious, I picked up the unfamiliar clothing, it clearly being too big to belong to me. My curiosity only thickened when a wave of familiarity washed over me.

It smelt like him. The same rich cologne and sweet milk chocolate, however, the smell of smoke was more pungent on the robes. It was the smell that seemed to haunt me. Haunt me during the daytime and in my dreams. The smell I couldn't escape ever since Potions class.

"Whose robes are these?" I turned to face my father, whose eyes were already on me. The little colour in his face drained for a moment until he regained his composure. Dad was always good at hiding how he truly felt, despite that it was a rare occurrence that he ever hid how he felt around me.

"Must be a student who left it here during the day." He replied nonchalantly, hoping I'd believe him. I did. Obviously, a student left it here sometime during the day. What I was craving to know was who.

For now, I decided to drop that conversation. If I were to press on for more information, he'd get suspicious, then I'd have to tell him about Potion class, and then about how I keep smelling this exact smell everywhere I go. Then I'd have to confess about sneaking into the restricted section with Harry Potter and mention the mysterious book we found belonging to an unknown royal. None of that seemed like a pleasant conversation to have.

"I saw Dobby earlier..." I began, knowing it would be better to tell him now than hide it from him. I shudder at the thought of how furious he would be if he discovered I hid something as significant as this from him. Confused he raised a brow at me, silently asking for an explanation as to who this 'Dobby' was. "The Malfoy's old house-elf." I clarified. My father nodded in acknowledgement.

I took another breath, a pitiful attempt to calm my nerves. I felt eyes on me again, burning through the back of my head. I turned around only to find my father's storage room. Quickly I turned back to face my dad, shrugging off this uncomfortable feeling. "He told me something... concerning, to say the least."

"And?" He looked calm and collected, clearly not anticipating the words that would soon leave my mouth. He stepped closer to me until only the sofa separated us.

"He told me he overheard Mr Malfoy talking in Knockturn Alley." My feet carried me around the sofa to the other side of the room, and back again. I walked back and forth while biting my nails, contemplating my next words. How does one break it to their father that his precious daughter is at the top of the Dark Lord's hit list? I'd like to wager that I was one spot below Harry on that list. For what reason I cannot be certain. Considering how scared Dobby seemed, the old lord evidently has something against me.

Abruptly, I stopped my pacing. "Mr Malfoy spoke of the Dark Lord." I looked dead straight into my father's eyes, awaiting his response. The mention of the Dark Lord didn't faze him. "He's looking for me. Voldemort wants me."

Like Avada Kedavra to the heart, his world shattered. His face contorted into shock. The mask has fallen. "Dobby didn't hear why." I continued as my dad began to frantically pace the room just like I did moments ago. My words did nothing to calm him, not that I was expecting them to. "I've asked him to keep me updated if he hears anything else."

Dad abruptly stopped pacing and turned to me. His black eyes held nothing but fear and worry. Fear for me. Worry for my safety. "Listen to me very carefully, Y/n. From now on you are not to leave the castle grounds unaccompanied by at least four other students. Potter and his friends do not count as they are also wanted by the Dark Lord." He stressed as he firmly placed both his hands on my shoulders. "And you will stay here for Christmas. With me. Where I can keep an eye on you."

By the tone of his voice, it was clear I had no room to argue. We always spent Christmas together at home, and Astoria would come over. Clearly, we'd have to continue our traditions in Hogwarts. It will be nice to spend Christmas at Hogwarts. I haven't had the pleasure of doing so since I was 8 years old.

Memories of the older students carrying me on their shoulders as we skated across the frozen Black Lake. When Tonks would attempt to teach me how to stake with Bill and Charlie Weasley while they were in Hogwarts. When McGonagall and Dumbledore would help me build snowmen by Hargid's hut. Beautifully simple times those were.

I nodded at my dad, taking in his words. Slowly my eyes fell back onto the robe left behind by the boy who somehow has been following me around. Before, I had assumed my mind was messing with me. That smelling that damn potion toyed with my head, convincing me that the person whom I'm 'most attracted to' was near when he never was. Now it was evident that I hadn't yet lost my mind. If that robe being left there wasn't a sign from Merlin himself, I don't know what is.

I looked back to my father, whose eyes hadn't left mine, with a worried look still plastered on his face. "You'll be okay." He muttered before pulling me into a tight hug. I'm not sure if he was trying to reassure me or himself. Perhaps it was meant to calm the both of us. No matter what, I trusted my Dad more than anyone. I knew he and Dumbledore would keep me safe.

Now I sat in the common room, sitting sideways on the sofa with my knees raised and my feet in front of me, unable to sleep. I had long finished reading the Quibbler and after I owled Luna. So I decided to scratch that itch at the back of my brain and read the Half-Blood Prince's book Harry and I found.

Each page of this blasted book was covered in harmful spells and potions, and if the spell or potion itself wasn't harmful, it could be manipulated to cause harm if used a certain way. This blasted book was sickening, yet I couldn't stop reading. A part of my brain had hope that the words inscribed on the pages of this book would reveal their owner to me. Wishful thinking.

The common room door opened, and in came Nott, Zabini, Malfoy and Riddle. The group looked exhausted with prominent bags under their eyes. It was nearly half ten at night, where have they been?

Realising that I was rudely staring at the group, I forced my eyes away and back onto the book in hand. I hadn't noticed the boys had sat around me until I felt the sofa dip. I glanced up in fright and saw Mattheo looking intensely at my book.

"What are you reading?" Mattheo finally spoke. His voice was stern and harsher than I was used to, catching me off guard. Taken aback by his tone I closed the book and pulled it tightly to my chest.

"None of your business." I grumbled and turned to sit forward on the sofa, now looking straight ahead at Draco Malfoy. Draco looked worriedly at the book in my arms as Blaise and Theo exchanged nervous glances. Mattheo huffed at my answer.

"Give us the book, Snape." Blaise stepped in with a calm voice, hoping to defuse the tension. "We just want to see what you're reading." He gave me a weak smile, making my brows furrow in confusion.

"What? Why?" I held the book closer to my chest at his words. If they saw what was in this book they'd think I'm up to no good. They might tell my father. He'd kill me before the ministry could get to me.

"Well, it's a book with no cover. So we are curious." Draco Malfoy added as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The confusion I was feeling grew. Why did they want this book so desperately?

"Let me see." Mattheo demanded, his voice even harsher than before. His tone, his attitude, his words, everything about how he was behaving hurt to see. I couldn't fathom why he was acting so strange.

"Why should I?" Mattheo opened his mouth to speak, his eyes filled with fury as he continued to stare at the book. "Don't you dare speak another word, Mattheo Riddle!" I spat back at the boy.

Mattheo's eyes snapped to mine, and suddenly his fiery temper cooled. None of the boys dared to speak, surprised by my tone of voice. "You spoke about needing information from me, you promised me you'd be nice. That you'd earn my trust, and you think it's wise to speak to me like that?" I huffed and began to flee to my room, not wishing to be around Mattheo Riddle any longer.

"You do not deserve to know what this book is, or how I got it. None of you." I spoke to the group one last time. Little did I know... they already knew.