Home for the Holidays
Chapter Eleven
It was the train ride home for Christmas. Again Angelina and Severus sat sharing a compartment. Emma had gone off to swap Chocolate Frog Cards, so Angelina and Severus, neither of whom collected, had remained in the compartment to read. They sat in content silence; each absorbed in their own book, until a knock on the door broke their peace.
"Is this seat taken?"
Angelina and Severus turned their attention to the intruder. Angelina raised a delicately arched eyebrow as she looked at the boy standing in the doorway.
"All the other compartments are taken," he explained, “or have Mudbloods.”
Angelina felt an odd sort of resentment at the use of the term Mudbloods, but reminded herself that it was just Emma who said it was offensive “ everyone else Angelina knew said Mudblood. Clearly Emma just didn’t yet know how the Wizarding world worked.
"Oh, come in Dolohov. This is Angelina Lestrange. Lena, this is Jerold Dolohov. He is in Slytherin," Severus said in introduction.
"Lestrange? Are you Rodolphus’s little sister?"
"Yes," Angelina responded in a tone that discouraged questions.
The boy was obviously thick as he proceeded to ask, "Why aren't you in Slytherin?"
"What's it to you if she isn't?" Severus intervened. Dolohov cast a frightened look at Severus's wand.
"No-Nothing, just curious."
"Curiosity killed the cat," Angelina retorted, amused by the boy’s fear.
"Mind if we join this little party?" drawled a voice from the door.
In stepped Rodolphus Lestrange, followed by two other fifth years.
"Hello, Snape. Dolohov," Rodolphus greeted, ignoring his sister. "You both know Rowle and Nott, right?"
Dolohov made a strangled noise Angelina assumed was a ‘yes.’ Severus just nodded.
"I hear your family is throwing the Christmas party this year, Dolohov."
"Y-Y-Yes," the boy stammered. He was clearly terrified of his older housemates. Angelina was disgusted. How could a spineless idiot like Dolohov get into Slytherin, while she had only gotten into Ravenclaw? The hat was obviously nutters.
"I bet the Blacks don't come. Their son is a Gryffindor,” spat Rodolphus.
“I’ve heard their still throwing their Christmas Eve party, though. My parents got the letter last week. We don’t know if we’re going, though,” Nott chimed in with contempt.
“If that were my family, I wouldn’t want to be seen in public. Especially with the blood traitor," commented Rodolphus.
"I wouldn’t talk if I were you, Lestrange. Your sister was put in Ravenclaw," drawled a voice from the corridor.
Flushing with embarrassment Rodolphus spat, "Keep your mouth shut about my sister, Rookwood."
Before either boy could reach for their wands, a spell shot out of Severus’s. A needle started stitching the offender's mouth closed. Rookwood's gasps of pain were muffled as his mouth was effectively sealed.
"Yuohlouhpmaweyphouruhthu. Lusustrunj. Snoup,” Rookwood mumbled glaring daggers at Severus and Angelina before slamming the compartment door shut behind him, shattering the glass. Waving her wand, Angelina repaired the door, glared around the room, and went back to her book.
Severus smirked. The rest of the boys, including her brother, looked stunned. Dolohov was more than stunned “ he had wet himself with fright.
~*~
Angelina had only been home three days and she already wished she was back at Hogwarts.
Currently, she was curled up in a small ball in her huge canopy bed. The room did not really feel as though it was hers, since she had never really lived in her family’s country residence where she was now spending Christmas Eve. When she had visited her father and brothers in England, it had mostly been during the summer when they were living in their summer house by the sea. Otherwise she had lived in France . . . with her mother.
It was her mother that was currently plaguing Angelina’s thoughts. Or more precisely her mother’s death.
Generally Angelina managed to keep these thoughts at bay, but this evening while attending the Black’s annual Christmas Eve Party (which, despite Rodolphus’ predictions to the contrary, had turned out to be as much ado as usual) the subject of her mother’s death had arisen.
As was her custom, as soon as she had thanked Mrs. Black for inviting her, Angelina had gone upstairs away from the party to find Andromeda. For, although Narcissa and Angelina might be closer in age, Angelina and Andromeda had always gotten along better.
Angelina had found Andromeda in the library. Both girls were much more comfortable reading then making polite chit-chat.
“Happy Christmas,” Angelina greeted as she walked into the room, drawing Andromeda’s attention away from the book on her lap and to the younger girl standing in the doorway.
“Lena!” was the enthusiastic greeting the older girl cried as she rushed across the room to envelope a startled Angelina in a hug.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Angelina laughed when the two had finally pulled apart. “Your aunt told me you’re engaged.”
"Mother hopes so. He's a good match. It would strengthen my family's influence in France," Andromeda recited starkly, giving Angelina a small smile that was meant to be reassuring but came off as heart-breaking.
"I'm sorry," Angelina whispered. Sitting down and crossing her feet, Angelina sighed. There was nothing further that needed to be said; both understood.
Wishing to move to safer waters, Andromeda said, "What are you planning to wear tomorrow?"
The younger girl shrugged delicately. "You?"
"Well I visited Paris before I came back. I bought . . ." Andromeda trailed off as the blood drained from the younger girl’s face. "Oh, Angelina I'm so sorry."
"It's nothing. Please continue, I would like to hear about Paris. Did you stop by Dominique's?"
"I was only there for a day, I didn't have time. Why don't you owl her?"
"What would I say?” Angelina paused before continuing. “She was more your friend than mine. Anyway, I doubt her mother would even allow her to respond. They all know it wasn’t an accident.”
“Lena,” Andromeda said, looking stricken. “You don’t know that. You can’t listen to what those gossips say.”
But Angelina did know. Her mother had committed suicide. It sure hadn’t been an accident. Her mother might have dealt a great deal with experimental charms and curses, but she hadn’t been stupid.
No, Angelina thought as she lay in bed. Her mother had been many things but she hadn’t been stupid.