Sweet Sacrifice: First Year

The Sorting

Together, they all left their compartment, joining the crowds of people surging towards the exits. Eventually, they all stumbled out onto to a very small platform. It was cold, very, very cold. Macula could barely move for all of the people surrounding her, and she could feel someone gripping onto the back of her sweater. She glanced over her shoulder; it was only Neville.

“It’s so crowded!” he gasped as someone elbowed him in the stomach. Padma gripped his shoulder to steady herself as he stumbled.

“They’re all so tall,” she murmured. Macula didn’t think anyone else had heard Padma; Macula did, but she was too busy concentrating on the massive man who was shouting for the first-years.

“I think first years have to go over there –” she said to the people who were grouped around her.

“How do you know that?” Parvati asked. Macula thought it was Parvati, at least; it could have been Padma, but Macula recognised the more confident tone to the voice.

Macula pointed at the giant-like man.

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!” he was shouting loudly. Padma’s mouth hung open and she stared at him with wide eyes.

“But – but he’s massive!” she gasped.

“My dad told me about him,” Macula began to inform Padma as they shoved towards the man. “His name’s Hagrid. Daddy reckons he’s half-giant, and I must agree...”

“Come on! We don’t want to get left behind!” Macula heard Hermione hiss a few moments later as they struggled through the hoards. Eventually they got to Hagrid, who beamed down at all the first years.

“C’mon, follow me – anymore firs’ years?” Hagrid set off, and Macula turned to Padma.

“Mind yer step now! firs’ years, follow me!”

Hagrid was leading them down a very narrow and very steep path. Macula could barely see anything in front of her except for the bobbing lamp belonging to Hagrid. It was very damp, and Macula was putting a lot of concentration into not falling over.

Hardly anyone spoke. Neville would occasionally sniff. They were about halfway down the path when Parvati shrieked, stumbling and slamming into her sister and Hermione. It was Neville that caught her before she hit the ground. He smiled at her shyly, and then let go of her robes.

“Thanks,” Parvati mumbled, tugging at her robes and now walking very carefully. Silence reigned.

“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec...jus’ round this bend here!” Hagrid called. Macula reckoned it sounded very far way.

Sure enough, they turned a bend. They were on the banks of a vast lake; a huge castle with sparkling windows was on the other side of the castle, and it looked very magical, straight out of a fairytale. Macula beamed at the sight of it.

Floating on the lake was a flotilla of little boats; Hagrid, who Macula could now see quite clearly, gestured towards them. “No more’n four to a boat!”

There was a surge towards the boats. Macula hung back with Padma and Parvati, and when everyone else had clambered into a boat, she headed towards one that was occupied by one girl with a long plait. She was followed into the boat by Padma and Parvati – Neville and Hermione had already boarded the same boat as Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

“Everyone in?” Hagrid inquired. There was no reply, but he nodded to himself. “Right then – FORWARD!” The boats began to move across the lake. Macula hung over the side of her boat, making it sway slightly, much to the annoyance of Padma who frowned at her.

“Don’t do that!” she complained.

“I want to try and see some merpeople,” Macula said with a shrug, and sat up straight.

The little fleet reached the cliff. Macula bent her head as they were taken through a tangle of ivy hanging over a hole in the cliff face and into a tunnel. The tunnel smelt damp, was incredibly dark and made Macula feel slightly uncomfortable. She was very glad when they finally reached a small cavern that was an underground harbour.

She jumped out of the boat, and dusted herself down. Padma and Parvati stood close to each other, and then edged nearer to Macula, both staring around the odd little place they’d been taken to.

Hagrid was checking the boats; he straightened up when he reached the one that Neville and Hermione had vacated and held up a toad.

“Oy, you there! Is this your toad?”

Neville ran forward, his hands outstretched for the toad. Hagrid handed it over, and then all of the first years followed Hagrid up a narrow passageway. Macula kept on bumping her head, and she thought that Neville might have slipped down some steps.

It seemed like years later when they finally emerged onto the lawns of Hogwarts. Macula felt thrilled to be this close to the school, somewhat excited to be finally going to this school of magic; something she’d been waiting forever since she’d known it had existed. Hagrid glanced round at them all before taking them up a small flight of stone steps that led to the front door to the castle.

“Everyone here? You there – still got your toad?” When Hagrid was sure they were all there, he knocked on the door with a loud banging sound that seemed to echo throughout the grounds.

When the door opened – and it did so almost immediately – there was a very serious-looking witch in emerald robes stood there, her eyes fixed upon Hagrid’s face.

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” Hagrid announced in a respectful voice.

“Thank you Hagrid. I will take them from here.” As the door widened, the first years all hurried into the castle. Macula was glad of the slight increase in temperature, only then realising how cold it had been outside.

The Entrance Hall was enormous, and reminded Macula of the Altus’ Manor, just bigger, older and grander, but still in the same kind of style, enough to make Macula feel slightly homesick.

They were taken to a chamber off the Entrance Hall. It was quite dark, lit by a few lamps on the wall, and was warmer than the Entrance Hall; a few paintings hung on the otherwise bare walls.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall began, hands clasped in front of her as she surveyed the new students. “Welcome to Hogwarts. The start of term feast will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards...”

At these words, Macula saw Draco smirking. She rolled her eyes, knowing that he was either thinking of himself being counted among the outstanding wizards in the future, or of the Dark Lord.

“...While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours...” McGonagall glanced at everyone during a short pause, before she continued. “The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.”

She left the chamber, which on her exit burst into chatter.

“Is my hair a mess?” Macula asked Padma. The other girl cocked her head to one side, and then shook her head.

“Not really,” she said. “Is mine?” She smoothed down her hair, which was slightly curly, but nowhere near out of control.

“No – you’ve got nice hair.” Macula looked at it enviously; her own hair was curly, but it was hard to control and got tangled easily. She hated it.

Parvati let out a small squeal of excitement and threw her arms around her sister, who had just uttered, “Thanks.”

“I can’t wait to get sorted!” Parvati exclaimed.

“I don’t want to,” Padma said, her words all jumbling together. “In fact, I want to get back on the train and go home –”

It was then, however, that the ghosts decided to make an appearance. They swept through the walls, seemingly not to have noticed the first years grouped inside the chamber.

“Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance –” one of them was saying.

“My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances her deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?” a ghost wearing tights and a ruffle had noticed the first years. The ghosts, who had been talking among themselves (though none as loudly as the Friar and the ghost with the ruff), all fell silent, as did the first years.

“I’d heard there were ghosts here...” Macula murmured, to no one in particular.

“I don’t like ghosts...” Padma said in the same quiet voice.

“New students! About to be sorted, I suppose?” the Friar boomed with a huge smile. There were a few non-committal replies and more nods.

“Obviously, or we wouldn’t be here,” Macula muttered, folding her arms.

“Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know...”

This was when Professor McGonagall entered the chamber once more. “Move along now! The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start. Now, form a line, and follow me –”

All the first years hurried to form a line. Macula fitted herself in between a blonde girl and Padma, who was stood behind Parvati. Parvati would occasionally throw excited glances over her shoulder at her sister. Macula observed that Padma had turned an interesting shade of green.

They were led into the Great Hall; it was a large room, with four tables at which the students all sat – each table seated students with different coloured sashes, Macula noted – and the Hall was lit by thousands of candles. The teachers were all seated at the far-end of the hall, facing outwards. McGonagall led them up between the tables to stop just in front of this table, where she placed a four-legged stool and a filthy hat sat upon the stool.

Macula looked at the hat. There was a short period of silence, before the hat began to sing:

“Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can top them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a steady mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!”

Macula heard Parvati whisper to her sister: “See, Padma, all we’ve got to do is try on a hat!”

Macula then began to watch McGonagall, who had produced a scroll of parchment, which she unrolled as she spoke. “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be Sorted...” she paused for a moment before calling out the first name.

“Abbott, Hannah!”

The blonde girl who had been stood behind Macula in the line hurried over to the stool, stumbling as she walked. She sat on the stool and placed the hat on her head – there wasn’t a long pause before the hat announced she was a Hufflepuff and she bounded off to sit at the table where the students wore yellow sashes.

“Altus, Macula!”

Macula began to walk towards the stool. She walked quite slowly, and quite calmly. She was in no hurry. As she walked past Draco, he gave her a small pat on the shoulder. She heard someone shouting across the hall, and when her eyes flashed up she saw the two boys from the train, Fred and George, grinning at her. She picked up the hat, and then sat on the stool; she placed the hat on her head.

There was a pause, and then the hat began to speak. It was like a quiet voice in her ear.

“Ah. Now. This is most complicated. I can see ... you’re a complicated one. You’ve got the bravery of a Gryffindor, the loyalty of a Hufflepuff, the intelligence of a Ravenclaw – but all the cunning and ambition of a Slytherin...Hmm. You would do well in Ravenclaw – academically. To do well with power – you’d need to be in Slytherin...I cannot see any long-term benefits for you in Hufflepuff. And Gryffindor. You would, possibly, be happiest in Gryffindor – but no. That isn’t the house for you. I think, all things considered, that you’d be best in...SLYTHERIN!”

Macula removed the hat, placed it carefully upon the stool and swept off to the Slytherin table, which she knew to be the table with green sashes because of the applause she was receiving from the people sat at it. As she went to sit down, a few people clapped her on the back, and one girl Macula didn’t know actually stood up just to tell her, “Well done!”

Macula smiled, said a quiet “Thank you,” and then the noise died down and it was time for the Sorting to continue.

Macula watched as, to her dismay, Millicent Bulstrode, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were all sorted into Slytherin. They were not her favourite people on the planet, and by the looks of dislike that Millicent sent her as she sat opposite Macula with a large sniff, the feeling was returned.

Macula smiled as she watched Hermione walk eagerly towards the stool and put on the Sorting Hat; when the Hat announced she was in Gryffindor, Macula was not particularly surprised, but let out a small sigh – she felt the same when Neville was sorted into Gryffindor as well.

The rest of the people sorted into Slytherin were all people that Macula had expected to be put in there; except for one, a stranger named Morag MacDougal, who sat quite shyly on Vincent’s other side. Draco was sorted after her, and he looked very pleased with himself. Then came Theodore Nott, a very thin boy that Macula knew quite well.

She was slightly disappointed when Pansy Parkinson made it into Slytherin, but her attention was then focused on Padma Patil, who was up straight after Pansy. In a rather selfish manner, Macula hoped for a few moments that Padma would be sorted into Slytherin; she felt a twinge of regret when Padma was placed into Ravenclaw, and a little bit of jealousy, as this had been the house she’d hoped to go into – and then, Harry Potter was called out.

Immediately, the hall fell into whispers and murmurs. Macula straightened up a little to see Harry better. “I met him on the train,” Draco was hissing to anyone who would listen – “I didn’t like him – of course she got involved –” jerked his head towards Macula, who pulled a face back at him.

Then Harry was put into Gryffindor. The Gryffindor table burst into applause and cheering.

“He’s only Harry Potter,” Pansy sniffed.

Macula slumped a bit, slightly bored, but grateful that the sorting was coming to some kind of end.

Blaise Zabini was called; Pansy, Draco, Theodore and Millicent all looked up at his name, and Macula did too. They all knew Blaise. Macula had to hide a smile and stifle a giggle when he was sorted into Slytherin. Blaise had always had a bit of a soft spot for Macula, something that Millicent was incredibly jealous over.

The headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, stood when the Sorting was over and the stool had been removed from the hall to make a speech.

“Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words, and here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!” He sat down, and food appeared on the golden plates covering the four tables. Macula helped herself to one of the few pasta dishes, and began to eat in silence.

Her eyes looked to the other tables. She could see Padma sat on the Ravenclaw table, set a little apart from the other first years, poking at a Yorkshire pudding and looking a bit sad. Immediately, Macula’s eyes flicked towards Parvati, who was currently talking animatedly with Hermione and another girl who Macula didn’t know. Neville was quietly listening in.

Macula felt a pang. She would much rather be sat with them, or Padma, than with the Slytherins that she’d known from birth – especially as out of all the Slytherin First Years, she only really liked Draco and Blaise.

“My parents will be glad I’ve made it into Slytherin,” Draco was saying.

“The hat didn’t take very long to sort you, Draco,” Blaise pointed out.

“Well...” Draco smirked. “We always knew where I’d be put.”

“Really, was there any other alternative?” Millicent said with a roll of her eyes, stabbing her fork into her steak rather violently. “With your parents, you were bound to be sorted into Slytherin; same goes for all of us.”

There were a few nods of agreement, before Pansy said in a rather venemous voice, “What’s your name?” to Morag MacDougal.

“Morag,” the girl said, pulling a face.

“What are you?” Draco inquired.

“I’m – well, I’m a witch.” Morag frowned.

“Yes, we gathered that,” Theodore snapped with a roll of his eyes.

“What are you?” Blaise persisted. “Pure blood? Half blood? Or – God forbid – a Mudblood?”

“I – I’m not sure.”

Macula sighed and rested her fork on the edge of the plate. “Are either of your parents magical?” she said.

“My dad is...” Morag looked at Macula, then looked at her plate.

“You’re a half-blood, then.” Macula speared some pasta and put it in her mouth.

“What – what’s a Mudblood, then?” Morag asked curiously.

Macula pulled a face. Everyone was looking at her.

“I don’t like to say the word, but it’s a term given to someone who’s got no magical heritage. It’s an offensive term. You can get into a lot of trouble for using it here at Hogwarts,” Macula explained after she’d swallowed her pasta.

“Pure-bloods are best,” Draco said with a smirk. “We’re all pure-bloods.”

“Oh, nice way to make her feel welcome, Draco,” Macula sighed, and then looked to Morag. “Ignore him. Some wizards have this idea that pure-bloods are better than Muggle-borns. It’s called pure-blood mania, and it’s a bit ridiculous – unfortunately, among this lot it’s hard to avoid.”

Pansy glared at her. “Oh, be quiet, Macula,” she snapped, before stabbing at her steak in a rather vicious manner with her fork. Macula rolled her eyes.

Morag looked towards Macula and said, slightly hesitant, “What are you...I don’t know your name –”

“I’m Macula – I’m pure-blood.” Macula smiled at the girl, who nodded once and looked down at the remains of her meal.

“Oh. Okay.”

Macula tuned out of the conversation, which turned to Quidditch quickly after. Draco settled into explaining some of Quidditch to Morag, while Pansy tried to appear just as clueless about the wizarding sport. Macula finished off her meal and waited patiently for dessert to arrive; with nothing else to do, Macula found herself listening to the other Slytherin’s conversation once more.

“- You see, Father wanted to send me to Durmstrang, but my mother –” Draco was saying very loudly. Macula sighed quietly as Blaise exclaimed, “Oh, wow, imagine going to Durmstrang!”

“Oh, yes, learning how to perform the Dark Arts by an ex-Death Eater. How wonderful,” Macula said sarcastically as she helped herself to a slice of chocolate tart (the desserts had just appeared on their table).

“Exactly!” Blaise said brightly, missing her sarcasm completely. “You can’t deny that we’d all fit in much better at Durmstrang –”

“Oh, please...” Macula muttered under her breath.

“Plus, there aren’t many Mudbloods there, are there?” Millicent added. “My father told me that Igor Karkaroff won’t allow them.”

“See, he’s got the right idea about it,” Draco said. “If only Dumbledore would see some sense –”

“Like that’s going to happen! Dumbledore’s the biggest Muggle-lover that’s existed, my dad says, and I agree!” Theodore scoffed.

Macula sighed heavily and placed her fork down on the edge of her plate. “Don’t you realise who Igor Karkaroff is?” she demanded.

The rest of the Slytherins stared at her, before Theodore spoke up. “He’s the headmaster at Durmstrang, isn’t he?”

“Not only was he a Death Eater,” Macula said, emphasising the words ‘Death Eater’ so she sounded absolutely disgusted by them, “He was a traitor. He gave people’s names after the Dark Lord fell.”

Pansy glared at her. “Yes, but he didn’t do very well, did he?” she snapped. “They’d already been caught. You just don’t like him because daddy nearly got sent to the Dementors...”

Theodore smirked, Millicent snorted, Morag looked embarrassed, Blaise shrugged and Draco pulled a face. Resisting the urge to hit Pansy in the face with her plateful of chocolate tart, Macula turned away from them all and remained silent as their discussion about Durmstrang continued.

When the meal was finally over, Dumbledore stood – Macula assumed, to give a speech.

“Ahem – just a few more words now we are all fed and watered...” Dumbledore’s voice rumbled throughout the hall. “I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well...I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors...Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch...and Finally, I must tell you that this year, the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death...”

Macula looked up. She’d been staring at her knees ever since Dumbledore had been speaking – but that last phrase caught her attention, and she wasn’t the only one in the hall who seemed intrigued by Dumbledore’s warnings. There were a few laughs – Draco among the people laughing – but Macula saw no reason to laugh over something like that.

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” Dumbledore waved his wand in the air, and the words to the song appeared from the tip of his wand in gold ribbons in the air. Macula groaned. “. Everyone pick their favourite tune, and off we go –”

Macula decided she wasn’t going to sing along.

Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling
With some interesting stuff,
For now they're bare and full of air,
Dead flies, and bits of fluff,
So teach us things worth knowing,
Bring back what we've forgot,
Just do your best, we'll do the rest
And learn until our brains all rot.


The whole school clapped; Macula joined in the applause somewhat half-heartedly.

“Ah, music...A magic beyond all we do here!” Dumbledore wiped his eyes. “And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

Macula stood and pushed her hair out of her eyes. She looked around the hall, and at her fellow first-year Slytherins. For once in their lives, some of them actually looked nervous; especially Morag. Macula felt slightly sympathetic towards the girl, who, despite having a wizard father, didn’t appear to have much knowledge of the wizarding world.

Two Slytherin Prefects stomped over, a boy and a girl. They introduced themselves as Marcus Flint and Genevieve Hubbs.

“Follow us!” Marcus commanded the first-years, and Macula walked after him, followed by Millicent and Pansy; the boys came next, and Morag lagged behind, looking very pale.

They were led down into the dungeons; the corridor was very cold and the air seemed damp. No one spoke as they walked. Their footsteps echoed around the corridor.

The group came to a halt in front of a damp stone wall. Macula stared at it, pulling a face, and was about to say something along the lines of, ‘What’s so good about a wall?’ when Marcus spoke.

“This is the entrance to the common room,” he said. “Don’t forget where it is, and never forget the password.”

Genevieve nodded, and turned to the wall. “Salazar...” she whispered, leaning into the wall slightly; a hidden door slowly slid open, and slowly, the Slytherin first years moved into their common room.

To Macula, it looked cold. It was a long room, low, the walls were bare and rough; green lamps hit the room, giving it an unearthly green tinge. There was a fire, under an elaborate mantelpiece – but Macula could feel no warmth from it. Chairs were dotted around the room.

“The boy’s dormitories are just down there,” Marcus said in a bored tone, gesturing towards one door; “The girls are through there...” he continued, now pointing to another door. “Your dormitories will be behind the first door,” he finished, before moving off to sit by the fire. Genevieve followed him, but went towards some chairs in the far corner, where a group of girls watched with dark eyes.

Macula sighed slightly. One by one, her fellow first years made their decisions of where they were going to go; Draco, Blaise and Theodore went to sit on some of the chairs left by the fire, while Crabbe and Goyle left for the dormitory. Thankfully, all the girls decided they were going to go straight to bed. Not wishing to be stuck in a room alone with them, Macula decided she was going to wait for a bit to give them a chance to fall asleep before even going in that dormitory.

She sat with the boys, who all looked towards her briefly but made no comment on her choice to sit with them, just continued with their conversation (it was about Quidditch). Macula listened to what they were saying intently, although it held no interest to her.

Despite feeling slightly cold in this eerie room, Macula actually found it quite comforting, just sitting there by a fire; something about the darkness, the low murmur of chatter and the crackling of the flames reminded her of being back home at the Altus’ manor.

When she felt a sufficient amount of time had passed, Macula stood up. “Goodnight,” she said to Draco, Blaise and Theodore, beginning to walk away.

“Night!” the three of them chorused back at her.

The corridor that led to all of their dormitories was dark and unlit. Once her eyes had adjusted to the dark, Macula began to grope for the door. When she found the handle, she paused, and listened.

“-You see, Morag, Macula seems all right on the outside – very polite, isn’t she?” Macula could hear Pansy saying in that irritating nasal voice of hers.

“But if you want to survive here, Morag, you’d be best staying with us,” Millicent finished for Pansy, her voice lower and gruffer, but just as annoying.

“There’s something about Macula, that Macula doesn’t even know. Now, we will tell you, one day, but believe me – life is going to come crashing down for that spoilt little –”

Macula turned the handle and walked in. she could tell by the looks on their faces that they knew she’d heard; she also knew it was probably written all over her face, the annoyance at their words.

Pansy smiled, a smile too sweet for her ugly face.

“Oh, hello, Macula,” she said in a voice that matched her smile.

“Hello,” Macula said stiffly, walking over to the only free bed in the corner. She sighed, quietly to herself, and began to unpack her nightgown from the trunk placed at the foot of her bed. She changed into it behind the curtains that surrounded her bed, before climbing into bed.

Despite her annoyance, Macula found it surprisingly easy to slip into a state prepared for sleep. She was just about to drop off when she heard the curtains being pulled back, and saw Morag’s face peeking through the gap.

“Are you okay, Macula?” Morag asked softly.

“I’m fine,” Macula replied groggily, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “Why?”

“You looked annoyed when you came in,” Morag explained. Macula looked at her, then turned her head away slightly.

“Oh. That. I overheard you all talking. That’s all.”

Morag’s face went red. “Look, I’m sorry, Macula –” she began, but Macula interrupted.

“No, it’s okay. Go back to bed. You’ll need to be up early tomorrow.” Reaching out, Macula tugged the curtain shut and rolled over. She could hear Morag’s feet padding softly across the carpeted floor, and then the rustle of curtains and bed sheets.

After a few moments, all went silent, except for Millicent’s snoring. Macula rolled onto her back and looked up at the dark canopy above her head. In the dark, everything she could see seemed to swirl, the blackness forming it’s own patterns; the dark almost seemed to vibrate.

It was lying here, in the dark, that Macula first felt the sickness seep into her stomach, where she first felt a longing for home. It would not be the last time Macula would feel like this; it would not be the last time Macula would feel like crying herself to sleep. But the first time, Macula later realised, was always the worst. The first night is always the loneliest, always the worst.

Once Macula had let a few tears escape, she rolled over, and closed her tired eyes. After a few more minutes, sleep overtook her, and she fell into an uneasy, restless sleep.