Never Let Go

“What the hell is wrong with you?” hissed Chey when she finally managed to track Emilia down. “Do you have any idea how stupid that was of you? I mean. I get that him bring up your parents is hard on ya, but that doesn’t mean that you have a right to punch him in the face! You don’t have a right to punch him, at all. Harry is off limits. OFF LIMITS! Don’t you know who he is? What he’s meant to do? Fucking hell, Millie,” she sighed. “What if you’d made him blind? Did ya not even stop to think about what that would’ve done? What that would’ve meant for everyone?”

In all the years that Emilia had known Chey, she’d never seen her cousin so upset over something. Chey wasn’t the one that scolded her or pestered her. She might have had moments in which she was the voice of reason, but she’d never called Emilia stupid, to get a point across.

“What have ya got to say for yourself?” she asked, her voice firm, yet pleading.

“You’re not Nan, Chey. I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“Don’t owe me an explanation?” she shook her head in disbelief. “You’ve no idea, what you’ve put me through! No bloody idea!”

“I haven’t done anything to you.” Emilia argued. “I punched Harry. That’s all I did. And he’s the only one that can corner me like some sort of fucking animal, to tell me off. So I don’t get why you’re acting like you’re the one I hit.”

“Let me tell you why, you curly headed fuck!” bellowed an enraged Chey. “The reason I'm acting like this, is because everyone in Gryffindor thinks that I'm some Slytherin Lover.”

“Come on, Chey! That’s a stupid reason to be pissed off at me. Ignore them. There. Problem solved.”

“Problem not solved! I'm not gonna have people thinking I'm keen on Slytherin and I refuse to have a cousin that’s gonna go round, punching Harry bloody Potter. That’s not the sort of people we’re meant to be, Millie. You of all people should know that. With the way ya spent summer talking about how you really wanted to make a difference, I thought you’d be best mates with Harry. Try to help him out, but no. You’ve done the exact opposite. You’ve started acting like a bloody Malfoy.”

“Take that back,” she growled.

“No.” Chey proclaimed defiantly.

“I'm not acting like a Malfoy.”

“Then why’d you punch Harry? Why’d you sit with Draco at dinner, yesterday? Hmm?” she pressed. “You’ve got a response for that?”

She did. In fact, Emilia had a great response for that, one that would make Chey feel bad for having questioned her loyalties, but as much as she wanted to explain what was going on. As much as she wanted to tell Chey that it was alright, that Harry had offered to get punched in the face, Emilia couldn’t. That would put the entire plan in jeopardy, someone might hear their discussion. And then, where would she be? Draco wouldn’t trust her. Nor would there be any chance of his trusting her in the future. And that was something that she couldn’t have. Emilia had to get close to him. She had to become someone that he could possibly confide in, even if that meant having her cousin hate her for awhile. All she hoped was that Chey wouldn’t tell their family about what was going on.

“No answer then, is there?” asked Chey softly. “Damn it, Millie.”

“Just forget about it, Chey.”

“And how am I supposed to do that, when everyone’s calling you a Death Eater in training?”

“What did you just say?”

“You heard me.”

“I'm not that. Not a D-death Eater in training. You know that, Chey. Don’t you? I could never be one of those. Not after what happened to my parents.”

“Then why are you sitting around with Draco? Because it wasn’t just dinner with him, it was breakfast this morning. And who knows, ya might even take your other meals with him.”

“It’s not like that. You have to believe me.”

“Then what’s it like?”

“I . . . I just want to get to know him. I know I shouldn’t. Believe me, I know. But despite everything, he’s my cousin. We’ve got the same eyes! And I-I'm curious.”

“Curious?”

Emilia nodded. “He’s family.”

“But his dad and his grandparents disowned your mum.” Chey stressed. “They didn’t want her to be a part of their family, which means that they don’t want you.”

“You said it yourself, Chey. His dad and grandparents did the disowning. Not him.”

“Ugh. Sometimes you’re so frustrating!” she hissed. “Draco’s not a good person. He’s a prat, a bloody tosser that’s vile and stuck up. There’s no reason for you to talk to him. You’ve got family that loves you. I care about ya, but you can’t be seen with him, Millie.”

“Chey –”

“And if ya really wanted to get to know him. Why didn’t you talk to him before ya punched Harry? That would’ve been more sensible. People wouldn’t be talking like they are.”

“Look. I didn’t plan for things to happen the way they did. I didn’t wake up yesterday, and say ‘This is a perfect day to punch Harry in the fucking face.’ It just happened! And afterwards, when everyone was shunning me, Draco was the only one that talked to me. Well, Ron to, but I couldn’t go over to Gryffindor table. Could I? Would’ve been cursed or hexed. So don’t . . . don’t stand there, judging me. Because I'm trying to figure out what I'm doing, and I don’t need to be scolded.”

“I'm just looking out for you. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“Neither do you.”

“I know better than you, which is why I'm telling you to just stop talking to him. He’s not worth getting to know. And if you don’t . . . I-I'm not going to talk to you anymore. Not until you stop talking to him.”

“Are you seriously giving me an ultimatum?” asked Emilia.

“Suppose so.”

“I'm just as hardheaded as you.”

“I know.”

“Then you know what I'm going to say, right?”

“Do I know it? Yes. Am I hoping I'm wrong? I am.” Chey stared intently at Emilia. “So what do you say? Are ya gonna stop or not?”

Emilia shook her head, out of fear that her words might betray her.

“Right then,” she let out a frustrated sigh. “No changing your mind then, is there? Don’t have to answer that. Already know what you’d say . . . ah, Millie. Fucking hell . . . just be careful. Alright?” she took a step back, freeing her cousin from the corner she’d been forced into. “And when you’re done being a hardheaded bitch, come find me.”

“I will.” Emilia took in a breath before asking, “Are you gonna tell Nan?”

“You’ve got the entire school to deal with. Don’t think you should worry about Nan, but you’re gonna have to worry about Jade, because she’s just as pissed as I am.”

“Fuck.” Emilia groaned.

Chey smiled. “And you won’t be able to calm her down with what you told me. Jade won’t give a damn about you wanting to know your cousin. She’s gonna call you a cunt, keep calling you a cunt and then storm off.”

“Sounds about right,” she mumbled.

“Chin up. Once Jade’s done with you, everything else will pale in comparison.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“I know, just wanted to freak you out a bit more. But this, this will be the last thing I say to you, until you get your head out of your ass: don’t trust him.”

“That it?” she asked.

Chey nodded, but said nothing else. She was just as hardheaded as Emilia, and was determined not to talk to her cousin until she stopped associating with Draco. A part of her genuinely believed that Emilia would grow so restless, so desperate for her company that she’d sever all ties with Draco. It’s not like Draco was a good person or fun to be around. No. He was nothing more than a slimy git that no one could trust. And it’d only be a matter of time before Emilia realized that.

“Can’t catch a fucking break,” she muttered to herself as she watched Chey walk away.

It had only been a day since she’d punched Harry and it already felt like an eternity. She was tired of people whispering whenever she walked by, of getting dirty looks sent her way, or menacing glares. She hadn’t thought that people would react as strongly as they had. The only person whose reaction she’d thought about had been Ron’s. She’d been so focused on what he’d do, that she’d completely forgotten that there was an entire student body out there. She’d forgotten that there were hundreds of students at Hogwarts, and now that she’d punched him, she was actively hated by the Gryffindors, held in contempt by the Ravenclaws, and had lost the respect of the Hufflepuffs. The only one that were somewhat agreeable to her, were the Slytherins.

Now, instead of ignoring her when she walked into the common room, they nodded in her direction, gave her a look of acceptance. A few even went a step further, a few first years had started sitting by her during meals. Almost as if they were looking up to some great leader. She was disgusted by their behavior, but said nothing on the subject. That was what she’d wanted. What she needed. So she had to deal with it, to come to terms with being ostracized by the other houses.

With a heavy heart, Emilia abandoned her place in the corner. She only had one class on Tuesdays and since she’d already finished it, she was free to do whatever she wanted. On previous Tuesdays, she’d sat out on the Hogwarts grounds and waited for Jade and Chey to join her. That wouldn’t be happening anymore. Not for awhile. She had to find a new employment for her time. She tried to go to the library, but was so irritated by the glares shot at her that she ended up storming out. She tried sitting in the great hall, but the whispers became too much to endure. So she ended up in the kitchens, where the house elves offered her kind smiles and a peaceful space to sit at.

As she watched them scurry around, she couldn’t help but miss, Mitzi. Mitzi would make everything better. She’d be there to reassure her that she was doing the right thing and that the students didn’t mean what they were saying. Oh Merlin. She needed her elderly house elf.

“Miss,” squeaked a voice from beside her. “Miss Millie?” called the voice.

Her eyes went in search of the voice’s owner, and there, standing to the side of the table was a house elf. His large green eyes peered up at her, excitedly. Her eyes filled with curiosity at the sight of him. He wasn’t like the others. Instead of wearing a pillowcase, he wore an oversized sweater and shorts that seemed better suited for the beach than a castle.

“Hello,” she greeted him. “How do you know my name?”

“Harry Potter has told Dobby all about Millie.” Dobby said.

“You’re Harry’s friend? Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Dobby.” She held her hand out to him. “I'm Emilia Rose Renner, but you can keep calling me, Millie.”

Dobby stared at her hand for a moment, before taking it. “Dobby is very pleased to meet Miss Millie. Harry Potter had told Dobby that Miss Millie was kind, but Dobby could not believe it.”

“Because I'm in Slytherin?” she smiled.

A faint blush spread across his cheeks. “Slytherins are not the . . . kindest.”

“They’re not.” Emilia agreed. “That’s why I think the hat messed up with me.”

“That is what Harry Potter said. He said that Miss Millie would make a true Gryffindor. And Harry Potter said that Dobby should be Miss Millie’s friend, because students aren’t being kind to Miss Millie.”

“I only want to be your friend, if you want to be mine. You don’t have to be my friend just because Harry asked you to.”

“Dobby wants to be Miss Millie’s friend.” He climbed onto the table. “Dobby’s heard what people have said about Miss Millie, but Harry Potter explained that,” he lowered his voice, “It had to happen. Do not be afraid, Miss Millie. Dobby does not know why it had to happen. Harry Potter did not explain. He said he made a promise to Miss Millie to not tell.”

“He did. I made him pinky promise.” Emilia tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Will you have some tea with me?”

“Dobby will make Miss Millie, tea.”

“No, Dobby. I meant if you’d have tea with me. Like friends. You are my friend, aren’t you?”

“Dobby is friends with Miss Millie.”

“Good, then give me a moment, I’ll go get us some tea.” Emilia stood up from her seat.

Dobby lifted his arms in protest. “Dobby will get the tea.”

“I can do it.”

“Miss Millie does not know where the tea is.” He stopped before saying, “Does Miss Millie, know where the tea is?”

“No, but I can ask someone.”

“Dobby will get the tea.”

“Fine, but I’ll go with you. So I know where the tea is, for next time.”

Dobby smiled brightly at her. “This way, then, Miss Millie,” he led her deeper into the kitchen than she’d been before. “Does Miss Millie come often to the kitchens?”

“I’d say pretty often. But I usually come with Ron and he’s the one that orchestrates the food.”

“Weezy is very fond of eating.”

“Is that what you call Ron?” she giggled.

Dobby nodded.

“That’s adorable. I think I might start calling him that.”

And she did, when she ran into Ron, hours later, the, first word out of her mouth was, “Weezy!”

“Bloody hell,” he groaned. “You’ve met Dobby. Haven’t ya?”

“When you say it like that, you make it sound like a bad thing.”

“Well it is. Now you two are gonna spend your time competing for who can come up with the most embarrassing name for me.”

“So grouchy,” she looked up at him. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Was just on my way to dinner,” replied Ron. “You?” he asked.

Emilia shook her head. “Not yet. I'm trying to wait until it’s almost over to go eat.”

“Mental, you are. If you go then, there won’t be any good food left over.”

“There also won’t be any people left to call me a Death Eater.”

“You’ve heard that?”

“Chey told me. Then I heard it for myself and nearly punched Seamus for saying it.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because one week’s detention with Snape’s enough,” she answered.

“Right, right, forgotten about that . . . So when’s that start?”

“Tomorrow night. It was supposed to start today, but he had to go somewhere with Dumbledore. So I have one more night of looking forward to detention.”

“Nearly wish I was you. You’re gonna have loads of fun tomorrow.”

“Oh bugger off, Ron.”

“Don’t think I will.” He shot her a smug smile. “Oi, since you don’t have detention today. How’s about we have dinner in the kitchens?”

“Thought you said I had to face reality.”

“That was yesterday. And you’ve already faced it. You know its shit. So how about it?” he asked.

“Hmm, I guess I can have dinner with my favorite Weezy.”

“That’s it changed my mind!” he exclaimed overdramatically, a big lopsided grin on his face.

“Oh no, you don’t!” she took his hand. “I was promised dinner. And dinner I will have.”

“Only if you stop calling me, Weezy,” he said.

“I'm afraid I can’t make that promise.”

“Then . . . then . . . then I'll be calling ya, Rosie!”

“Don’t you, dare!” her eyes narrowed at him. “You know I hate that name.”

“Always reckoned ya liked the way your grandaunt Agatha, called you Rosie. I can remember all those times she pinched your cheeks and called you that.”

“Fine then, Weezy. Go ahead, call me, Rosie.”

“You’re not supposed to want me to call you, Rosie.”

“If it means I can call you, Weezy. I’ll soldier through it.”

Ron let out an exasperated sigh. “Ugh. I'm not gonna call you, Rosie. Doesn’t suit you,” he grumbled. “Come on, Emi. Let’s get something to eat before I hex someone.”

“Why don’t you carry around a snack?”

“What for?” he asked, leading her towards the kitchen.

“So that way you won’t get bitchy and annoying, whenever you get hungry,” she replied.

“Might get bitchy, but not annoying,” he argued.

Emilia shot him a look.

“Alright, alright, so I get a bit annoying. Happens to everyone though . . . I mean you’re no princess when you get hungry.”

“I'm no princess even when I'm full!” she laughed, bumping her hip against his. “Think I’d be more like a Dame.”

“Hah. You’re as good as a Princess. Renner’s are the Purebloods.”

“I think you have as confused. We’re more like the Blood Traitors.”

“I'm trying to compliment you here, ya wanker.”

“But I'm no princess. I'm more like a Dame. And you can be a Knight!”

“Keep going.”

“And . . . uh . . . we can go on quests to far off lands!”

“Can we ride dragons?”

“Knights don’t ride dragons. They slay them.”

“Dragons are brilliant though!”

“And dangerous, which is why we’d ride out on noble steeds and slay them.”

“Don’t think I want to be a Knight anymore. I’ll be the villain.”

“Hmm, well, it is suiting, since you’re a ginger.”

“Just watch. You’ll be the first to go.”

“That won’t happen.”

“Oh really?” he cocked his brow.

“Let’s be real, Ron. You can’t hurt me. I'm too bloody adorable.”

“More like too bloody annoying.”

“You don’t mean that,” she said in a singsong voice. “Now come on,” she pulled at his hand. “Let’s go eat! Because all I had for lunch was some tea and a cucumber sandwich. And they weren’t that filling.”

They reached the kitchens just in time to sit down for dinner with the house elves. Dobby gladly invited them to sit with him and Winky. For the most part, Dobby only ate with Winky since the other elves thought him an odd creature. So to have Emilia and Ron there was a true treat for him. He asked them about their days, told them about his own, and when it came time for them to leave; he bid them a very friendly adieu.

Ron offered to walk her to the dungeon, but she declined, saying it wasn’t safe for him to by himself down there. He eventually conceded, agreeing that there was truth to her words and walked in direction of Gryffindor Tower. For her part, she lingered outside the kitchens. Not wanting to go back to the dungeons and not knowing where she could spend her time. Any other day, she would’ve gone to Gryffindor Tower to spend time with Chey and Jade, but she couldn’t do that anymore, at least not until she stopped talking to Draco. And that wasn’t going to happen for a long time, so she was going to have to look for a way to keep entertained.

Eventually, she grew bored of just standing there and started wandering the halls. There was no place in particular that she was going to. She just needed to move around, to feel like she was doing something with her time.

“And I ain’t seen the sunshine since I don’t know when, I'm stuck in Folsom prison, and time keeps draggin’ on . . .” she sang softly to herself, as she walked along the corridors.

“Are all Renner’s such ghastly singers? Because you surely didn’t inherit that from your mother,” spoke Draco.

She stopped mid step and turned to look at him. “I happen to think I have a beautiful singing voice.”

“So not only can you not sing. You’re also tone deaf.”

“I’ll have you know that I play the guitar beautifully.”

“Guitar?” he asked, unaware of what instrument that was.

“It’s a muggle instrument,” explained Emilia.

“Muggles,” he scrunched his nose in disapproval.

“If you gave them a chance, you might actually like them.”

“Doubtful, highly doubtful,” he replied. “What are you doing out? Shouldn’t you be with . . . oh, I’d forgot.”

“That I'm public enemy number one?”

“Don’t be overdramatic. Everyone knows I hold the highest rank, you get a distant second.”

“And who comes in third?” she questioned, a soft smile beginning to creep upon her face.

“Goyle or one of those buffoons,” he answered.

“Well at least they’re well fed buffoons. You look like you’re gonna pass out from hunger.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The fact that you’ve lost a bunch of weight since school started.”

“I’ve not.”

“Yeah, you have. You need to start eating more or else you’ll break in half. Look. Why don’t you come with me to the kitchens?”

“With the elves?” he spat.

“Yes, with the elves. With the elves that cook the food you eat, that clean the castle you live in, with the elves that make sure that Hogwarts is a home and not some giant mess.”

Draco shook his head at her words.

“Why you shaking your head at me?” she asked, rather forcefully.

“You like broken things, don’t you?"

"Someone has to." Emilia replied, her gaze burning into his.