Never Let Go

They said it was for the best. That the hat was so powerful that it knew things about me that I had yet to discover, that was what they told me. They kept repeating those treacherous lies, as if they would become truth if repeated enough, but they wouldn’t. I refused to acknowledge what I was being told by my grandparents as truth. They were liars that hadn’t put forth the effort to change the situation that I had been forced into by a stupid old hat.

And I was furious at them.

And since I'm rather incapable of keeping my mouth shut when I'm pissed beyond all reason, I found myself blowing up on them, not caring if it was rude to scream at the only parents I had ever known and most certainly not giving a fuck if there were pairs of eyes watching the heated exchange occur.

“This is bullshit!” I shouted without bothering to take a moment to process the words that came out of my mouth.

“Now Emilia, just because you’re upset that doesn’t mean that you can –” Grandpa’s voice remained calm; it was the same tone he used whenever he dealt with politicians.

“Oh! I'm not upset, I'm pissed!” I corrected. “And you know for a fact that I have every right to be pissed off, but you just don’t want me throw a fit because then people are gonna talk about how wild I am, about how I inherited my dad’s insanity, but I don’t give a fuck about what people think! All I care about is getting the hell out of Slytherin. That’s it.”

“Acting a fool isn’t going to change things. So stop this nonsense and find useful employment for your time.” He offered a kind smile as he continued to speak. “Go exploring with Ron and Harry. That was your dream when you were little, to explore Hogwarts. It was all you ever talked about and now the castle which you dreamt of for so long is your home. Don’t waste your time fighting over something that can not be changed. If you do, these years will be even more trying.”

“Your grandfather’s right, you know.” Nan spoke. “There’s no use fussing over a thing that can not be changed. It will drive you mad. As well as put a damper on the years that should be spent frolicking throughout the castle.”

“How can you expect me to frolic when I'm stuck in that dungeon? Can you just take a moment to process that? I'm gonna be living in a dungeon with people that have done nothing but call me a filthy blood traitor and a fat pug.” I placed great emphasis on the last seven words. “And not to mention Draco Malfoy!” his name was drawled out.

“What did that . . . that boy want?” Grandpa spat, he didn’t even bother to dissimulate his disgust towards Draco.

“Wanted to have a chat with his cousin,” I replied curtly. “Apparently his mom told him about me the other day so he made his presence known, even called me a true Malfoy for having been sorted into Slytherin.”

“The last thing on this earth that you are is a Malfoy!” his voice echoed through the corridor.

“Renner’s aren’t Slytherins. Malfoys are.” I wanted those words to enrage him so much, that he’d have no choice but to march up to Dumbledore’s office and demand that I be taken from Slytherin.

And judging by the violent shade of red that had overtaken his usual pasty face, I had succeeded. He sputtered out some incoherent words, his hands flailing in the air as he tried to communicate with us. He looked like a malfunctioning robot with the way his sharp movements and crazed muttering. And in all honesty, I started to feel a bit bad, I started to worry about whether or not I was watching my grandfather have a rage induced heart attack; thankfully he wasn’t.

“Thomas, my love,” Nan held his face in her hands. “There’s no need to get so worked up over this, it isn’t anything terribly serious. Nothing worth fretting over,” but it was, she knew it was.

“That boy was talking to our Millie.” Grandpa hissed.

“It’s only natural that he be curious. They are, after all, cousins. Nothing can change that.”

“But he’s seeking her out, he’s having conversations with her, I will not permit that to happen. Not as long as there is breath in this body.” He removed his wife’s hands from his face. “I will have a chat with Albus, I’ll plead with him. Surely he can do something for her.”

“Thomas!” Nan said his name in a stern manner. “Nothing can be done. He already explained that nothing could be done.”

“But –” Grandpa protested.

“Must I repeat what was told to us?” her voice was barely audible, her eyes shining with an anger that was mixed with desperation. “I know this isn’t an ideal situation. The last thing I want is that boy to get near our Millie, but Slytherin is where she belongs, even though I have my reservations, I understand that that is the safest place for her, so stop this foolishness, control your anger and let us be on our way. And you.” Nan spun on her heel to face me. “Mind your manners. I raised a young lady not a savage beast and if I so much as hear that you have been using those vile words, there will be consequences. Understood?”

“But –” I began to protest.

“Understood?” Nan repeated.

“Yes, Nan,” I replied.

“And make sure to avoid that young man.”

“Avoiding him would be easier if I wasn’t in the same house.” I muttered tiredly.

“Don’t sass me,” the tone in her voice warned that her patience had reached its end. “Perhaps seeing him is unavoidable, but speaking to him is completely up to you.”

“I know it is.”

“You won’t speak to him, will you?” Grandpa inquired.

I shook my head.

“Very well then,” he stepped towards me. “I know it might not seem like it, but we do have your best interests at heart. This is how things have to be.” He was uncomfortable saying those words, they sounded forced. “And in time, you will understand why things happened in the manner that they did. I promise.”

Did I believe him? No. Not in the least. The last thing I could imagine myself doing was being grateful for having been sorted into Slytherin. I would sooner pat myself on the back for having gotten into a serious car crash when I took my Grandpa’s car out for a joyride during our time in America. And on that occasion I had ended up at the hospital with a broken arm, bruised ribs and a bloodied nose.

“Make sure to owl us,” he told me as he leaned in for a hug. “We want to know everything that’s going on and remember to take care, my dear, and try not to get into to much trouble.” He pecked my head lightly before stepping aside so Nan could say her own goodbye.

Nan stood before me, lips hitched downwards in an unpleasant frown and brows furrowed as if to communicate her displeasure over the entire situation.

“Mitzi can come if you like, positive she’d be absolutely thrilled to be here with you.” her lips slowly began to twitch, moving upwards into a little smile. “Would you like her to come?”

The truth was that I would. I’d love to carry Mitzi in an oversized purse as I went about my day. I would feel safe, loads safer than I currently did and I’d even be able to get a, decent nights sleep in a room filled with treacherous teenager girls, but as much as I wanted her there, I knew it wouldn’t be right. I’d grown up a spoiled child. I was given everything I wanted to make up for the fact that I had no parents and in all those years, I’d never truly had to fend for myself, there was always someone a short ways away that would fight off my problems so as much as I wanted Mitzi, it was better if I dealt with things on my own.

It was time to fully grow up.

“You sure I’ll be alright in Slytherin? That it’s where I'm supposed to be?” I asked with my head slightly tilted to the right.

“That was what Dumbledore told us.”

Was that response enough to calm my nerves? No. In fact, it only made me worry even more. I didn’t personally know Dumbledore, only heard a few stories about him from Ron and Harry so to put my faith in him was hard to do. Then I reminded myself that he was the leader of the Order and that if he was fit enough to run that resistance group, then I should put my trust into him, even if I did so grudgingly.

“So do you want me to send for Mitzi?” Nan inquired, her voice taking me from my thoughts.

“What? Oh, uh, no, I think I should be good, well not good, but I’ll be alright.”

“Are you sure? It would be absolutely no trouble at all for her to come. I'm positive Dumbledore would be thrilled with her here and she misses you, been crying all day in you room, well, we both were.”

I reached out for her hand, fingers slowly wrapping around her palm so as to reassure her that everything would be alright. It would be a lie to say that I thought everything was going to work. I didn’t. I hated Slytherin. The girls that I lived with were unbearable, alright, Pansy was unbearable the others were annoying and Sally was nice enough, but I still hated Slytherin. I hated it more than I thought I could ever possibly hate anything, but I knew that I had to get it together; if not for myself, for my grandparents.

They were old, not just old, but really old, Grandpa had just turned seventy and Nan was about to turn sixty seven. They weren’t at an age where distressing information could be easily dealt with, they were at an age where a heart attack was a possible reaction to bad news and I’d have to keep that in mind in the future. I’d have to tone down my dramatics.

“I’ll be okay, promise.”

Whether or not she believed me, I didn’t know. All I knew was that she placed a soft kiss on my cheeks before bidding the boys farewell and leaving with Grandpa. I just stood there, watching as their figures disappeared from sight as they descended down the long flights of stairs that needed to be traveled in order to leave the castle walls.

“Emi . . .” Ron broke the silence, shoulders hunched slightly forward. “You . . .” he was trying to say something profound, that much was obvious, but Ron wasn’t blessed in the art of language, never had been. “Do you want to get some ice cream?” he blurted out. “There’s loads of it. They’ve got butter pecan, still your favorite. Isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Let’s have at it then.”

The Hogwarts kitchen was quite a distance from the Headmasters office. It was located directly beneath the Great Hall, and I was told that we were going to have to tickle a pear in order to get in. The expression was one that I wasn’t at all familiar with and as a result, I asked Ron if he was still talking about the kitchen or if he was going to have a wank.

True to his style, Ron blushed furiously, mumbled incoherently and worried me to such an extreme that I found myself apologizing to him in between giggles. I could barely get the words out and Harry just stood there, staring at us if we’d completely lost our minds. Ron eventually forgot his embarrassment and we resumed our journey to the kitchens.

We stopped when we reached a massive portrait of a bowl of fruit. I was about to ask them what the point of standing there was, but before I had a chance to, Ron had tickled the green pear which in turn squirmed and giggled and then turned into a bright green doorknob.

“So that’s what tickling a pear is,” I mused aloud. “Must admit, it’s not as exciting as what I thought it was. Then again, few things are more exciting than having a wank.”

“Emilia!” Ron cried, sounding a lot like Nan did whenever I said anything inappropriate.

“Why you freaking out?” was my response. “Nothing wrong with having a wank, it’s normal!”

“You’re not supposed to talk like that!” Ron protested.

“I was just talking about having a wank. You’re acting like I said something obscene.” I held back my laughter, trying hard not to break into a fit of giggles.

Ron shook his head disapprovingly. “Mental you are.”

“Not as mental as a teenage boy that freaks out over a wank.” I didn’t bother checking for his reaction, I merely took the doorknob into my possession and turned it, opening the door which transported us to another realm in which the tiny house elves reigned supreme.

Almost immediately, house elves rushed to the entrance. Their faces holding such tender smiles that only a heartless person would be capable of not feeling a warm sensation shoot through their being, warming their hearts almost instantaneously.

“Hello Miss!” squeaked one of the elves, a plump little creature with bright green eyes. “How can Eve be of service?” she asked.

“You have such a pretty name, Eve.” I crouched down in front of her, smiling brightly. “My name’s Emilia Renner, but you can call me Millie and it’s a pleasure to meet you.” I held out my hand to her.

Eve looked at me with a perplexed expression, as if she didn’t believe that a witch wanted to shake hands with an elf. I didn’t blame her for being shocked. Most wizards aren’t very kind to their house elves, treating them like vermin instead of tiny people deserving of respect, but I wasn’t one of those wizards. House elves had played an important role in my life and I wasn’t about to disrespect them.

“I promise my hand’s clean.” I told her. “Gave them a good wash after potions ended.”

It was then that Eve lifted her tiny hand towards mine and exchanged a friendly handshake with me. Her smile widened further and she proudly looked up at me.

“Is Millie new?” she asked politely.

I nodded. “Just got here yesterday, went to school in America before.”

“Then Millie has not tried the Bakewell tart!” Eve chirped. “Eve will fetch a Bakewell tart for Millie,” she took hold of my hand, attempting to drag me in direction of the massive tables. “Millie sits and Eve will make the Bakewell tart.”

“There’s no need to go through all that trouble. I just wanted some ice cream.”

Eve squinted halfway before saying. “Ice cream goes well with Bakewell tart.” And then she left, eager to please

“She’s lovely.” I spoke as I turned to face the boys, “A real sweetheart.”

“Can’t help it, can she?” Ron took a seat across from me, staring at the far side of the massive room where the elves were scurrying about. “What’d she say she was making?”

“Bakewell tart,” I slipped off my cloak and set it on the empty seat beside me.

“Those are delicious.” Harry commented, slipping into the seat beside Ron. “Last time they made those, we nicked a tray. Didn’t we Ron?”

Ron nodded. “Had a feast in the astronomy tower that night, we did.”

“That’s not really saying much, you have a feast whenever you eat.”

Harry burst into laughter. Ron chucked a nearby bread roll at my face.

“No need for violence!” I laughed heartily as I shouted that. “Just speaking the truth,” I lifted the bread roll and took a bite out of it. “This is real good.”

“Everything’s good here.” Ron patted his belly, redirecting his attention to the food that was scattered across a far table. “Suppose I’ll go get some pudding. Want any?”

Pudding was something I loved, particularly French vanilla pudding, but I was saving space in my stomach for the Bakewell tart and decided against feasting on pudding so as to not spoil my appetite for the impending lunch. Harry, as well, decided against pudding, something about wanting ice cream instead.

And so Ron walked away, a happy little smile on his face and a bounce in his step as he journeyed towards the table that was littered with food. He was absurd when it came to food, ate like he was perpetually starving and the fact that he didn’t weight three hundred pounds was a testament to his good metabolism.

The first to break the comfortable silence was Harry.

“So . . .” he spoke, shifting awkwardly on his seat.

“So,” I repeated, using a lighter tone than his.

A forced smile flickered across his lips, then, vanished, not to be seen again. “Have a question, but not really sure how you’ll feel if I ask. It doesn’t seem like an easy subject for you.”

“You want to ask about that cousin of mine, don’t you?”

Harry nodded.

“Do you hate him?” was my question.

“That obvious?” he tried to say it with humor, he failed.

I laughed politely, “Just a bit.”

“More than a bit, I bet, everyone round here seems to know.”

“An understandable hatred, no doubt, never met a decent Malfoy.” I paused before adding. “Is that even fair to say? He’s the only one I’ve ever met, well, met his mum one day at Diagon Alley, not formally though. Just called my name and then walked off. It was real weird. Didn’t think any of them would ever try to talk me, especially not after what happened to my mum.”

“Her dying?” he spoke.

“Oh, no, not that, you see, my mum was sort of disowned.”

“Disowned? I thought you Renner’s were purebloods.”

“We are, but, we’re blood traitors and that didn’t sit over well with The Malfoys, not to mention your mum. They were furious at mine for being friends with her and when my mum told them she was marrying my dad, that was last straw and they disowned her. Threw her out, never talked to her again and since I'm her treachery in flesh, I think it’s safe to say that I'm probably hated more than her.”

There was an unnerving silence.

“Which I'm alright with,” I quickly added. “They’re not nice people, not from what I’ve heard and I’d rather not have anything to do with them, but Draco seems to think that I'm a Malfoy now and he’s acting like he can give me advice.” I scoffed. “Like I’d need his advice, sooner hurl myself off a tower.”

“Advice?” his eyes sparkled with curiosity behind his thick lenses. “What sort of advice? If you don’t mind me asking,” he added.

“Told me to stop acting like a blood traitor, said life would be easier for me.”

“And are you?”

“It’d be like spitting on my parents grave if I did that.” there was an edge to my voice, an edge that was by no means friendly.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled. “Probably rude of me to ask, but I was just . . . curious, is all.”

“Because you want to know if he’s a Death Eater?” it was a guess on my part.

“Yes.” Harry hesitantly said.

“Can’t tell you whether or not he is, not close to him, but his dads one, always has been, probably always will be. And Draco, well, I don’t know, he talks like I imagine his dad would, but there’s something about his eyes, that’s just off, like he believes it but only in so far as it benefits him.”

“So you don’t think he’d be a Death Eater?”

“I think he’d be one,” here I sat making assumptions over someone I hardly knew, like a professional talk show host that criticized celebrities. “Not to be rude, but Voldemort’s kicking ass right now. He’s got the Ministry in his hands. My Grandpa was removed from his position because of the way the Ministry’s working, so yeah, it’s beneficial to be a Death Eater right now and Draco’s probably going to become one, if he hasn’t done so already.”

Harry nodded in agreement.

“What do you say we change the subject?” I proposed. “Ron’s not to keen on this sort of talk.”

“Absolutely hates it.”

“He was like that when we were little too, whenever anyone would bring up Voldemort or the war he’d just lose it and get really mad.” The mere thought of it made me break into a gentle laughter. “Remember one time George wouldn’t stop talking about it and Ron just got this book his dad had just bought, think it had something to do with muggles, and he chucked it at George, hit, him right in the head and it made him bleed a bit, if I remember right. And Molly was really upset, she kept asking Ron why he’d done it so then finally, the nine year old Ron tells her that George was making me sad and Molly just stared at him, for a good while and then patted his head and walked off.” From the corner of my right eyes, I saw Ron begin to walk towards us. “He’s always been really sweet.”

Harry seemed skeptical, smiling to himself as if to say that I was full of it. “He’s a great friend,” he eventually said. “Nicer when you’re around.”

“Probably because I'm always laughing at the things he does. I'm a horrible enabler, the absolute worst.”

“Really?” he cocked his brow at me.

“Just watch, one day you’re going to want to do something so incredibly stupid that everyone’s going to tell you not to do it, not me though, I’ll be there with a sign cheering you on.”

Harry leant forwards. “We’ll see about that.”

“We will . . . oh, and Harry.”

“Yes?”

“If you want . . . if you ever need someone to do some investigating on Draco, I-I'm up for it.” I paused before adding. “I mean if I'm going to be in Slytherin I might as well do something with it and Draco seems bizarrely taken with me.”

“You’d do that?”

I nodded.

“Why?”

“Because we both got screwed over and if I can help, I will.”

Harry’s eyes flickered to the redhead that was fast approaching. “Ron will be furious.”

“If anyone will understand, it’s Ron. We’ve been through a lot Harry and I know it may not seem like it, with the way Ron handles his emotions and all, but he’ll get it so if you need the help, I'm here and I'm sure I’ll make quite the spy.”

There was laughter, a light hearted exchange between friends that aimed at making things seem much more harmless than they truly were, but on the inside we both knew that Harry would need me to keep an eye on Draco. It was only a matter of time.