The Snow Dusted On Their Hearts (A Harry Potter Group Story)
It's Margaret Tang's fifth year. As if OWL's, Sirius Black escaping Azkaban, and dementors circling the school were stressful enough, Margaret also falls in love with sixth year Callum Shafiq. There is just one small problem. Callum is a Slytherin. Margaret is a Gryffindor.
Group Story by http://www.quibblo.com/user/CVDB (CVDB) and http://www.quibblo.com/user/A_Small_Drop (A_Small_Drop). (Lila had to drop out for personal reasons).
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Margaret glanced at him warily, only to find that her desperate attempts to escape his presence were to no avail. He walked calmly alongside her, matching her pace with an ease she found somewhat irritating.
She had already had plenty on her mind in the first place. The news of Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban made Margaret feel unsafe wherever she went -- especially now that she was going back to school, away from her parents and the Muggle world. Not to mention that she would be starting her fifth year at Hogwarts, which would mean constant studying and preparation for the O.W.L.s. Running into Callum only gave her new things to worry about. Her parents, overprotective muggles, would without a doubt ambush Margaret with questions when she got home. An explanation on why she was home late would be added to the long list of dreaded things, along with a scolding for ruining her clothes.
"There's a spell for that you know," Callum said, interrupting Margaret's thoughts. She'd almost forgotten he was there.
Margaret was unsure if he was serious or not, but nothing in his blue-grey eyes seemed to betray his tone. "I can't use magic. If you haven't noticed, I'm underaged." she said
"So am I," Callum responded calmly. "But we're surrounded by wizards who can use magic. How would anyone know it was us?"
Realizing he was right, Margaret stared at him. She hadn't even thought of that. "Alright then, what's the spell?" she asked, but Callum was already taking out his wand.
"Scourgify," he said, pointing his wand at the dark blotches on Margaret's shirt. Immediately the stains began to fade, and within seconds her clothes were spotless, perhaps even cleaner than they had been before Callum had bumped into her.
"You're welcome," Callum said smugly as he put his wand away. A self-satisfied smirk settled comfortably on his lips.
A multitude of snarky remarks arose in Margaret's throat, but she swallowed them back down. He had just resolved one of her problems. But then again, he was the one who had caused her problems in the first place. Margaret bit her lip, uncertain if she was expected to thank him or not.
She didn't get the chance to decide, though, because they had finally arrived at Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary. It was an old store, and the sight of it usually stirred up a sense of familiarity inside Margaret, along with warm memories that she would drink like she would hot chocolate on a cold, wintry day.
But as Margaret pulled on the bronze handle of the dark, wooden door, with Callum trailing behind her, she was greeted with a pang of annoyance rather than nostalgia.
A vast supply of potion bottles were placed around the room among old, dusty shelves. They varied in shape and size, precisely organized in a flawless semblance. Below them were countless jars, each filled with a different potion ingredient.
Together they sauntered around the store, both of them picking out the ingredients and supplies that they needed as they walked.
"So, you go to Hogwarts, right?" Callum said, his voice penetrating the silence of the shop. "What house--no, let me guess. I know you aren't in mine."
Margaret could practically see the gears turning in his mind. "Ravenclaw?" he finally asked.
She gathered a pouch of one of the ingredients on her list, not taking her eyes off of the jars in front of her. â€œNope.â€
She shook her head.
There was a moment of quietness that lingered between them, a rift in the innocent mood of their conversation.
"Gryffindor." Callum said, but this time it wasn't a question.
"Yeah," Margaret said, looking up at him. "You're a Slytherin?"
"Well, unless there's a fifth house, where can I be?" he asked, shrugging as if to say what you gonna do?. "So yes, I'm a Slytherin."
"Oh." Margaret said uncomfortably. The rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin had been around for quite a while, and it didnâ€™t seem as if that was going to change anytime soon. And if Joyce ever found out she'd gone supply-shopping with a Slytherinâ€¦
She shook the thoughts from her mind. What was she so worried about? It wasn't as if the two of them were going to spend time like this ever again. He was simply repaying her for the things he had broken.
Callum's voice sliced into her thoughts. "You seem a little conflicted there. I'm surprised. Most Gryffindor's don't seem to think before they act. Stupid, really."
Instinctively, Margaret opened her mouth to defend her house but then closed it, realizing that he did have a point. "I'm surprised that you even apologized after running into me, what with being a Slytherin and all," she retorted.
Something flickered in his blue-grey eyes. "Well I can leave," he said, sarcasm laced into his offer.
Oh, how I'd love that, Margaret thought but decided that heâ€™d already gotten the point. She shook her head and looked over at Mr. Mulpepper who stood casually behind the counter, pretending like he hadnâ€™t heard a word of their conversation. "I've got everything I need. Are you ready?"
"What's the hurry?" He asked with a smirk. "Worried that if you're around me too long you'll start wanting to learn the Dark Arts?" He added jokingly, "I swear it isn't contagious."
Margaret rolled her eyes. And without waiting for him, she turned to walk over to Mr. Mulpepper's counter, on which she set down her things.
As Callum joined them, Mr. Mulpepper smiled at him fondly. "Ah, Mr. Shafiq, I was expecting you! Your father and sister dropped in earlier." Mr. Mulpepper then glanced back at Margaret, as if just noticing she was there. "Are you two paying together?"
"I'm paying," Callum replied, and Margaret felt a small twinge of guilt for some of the things she had said to him.
"That'll be six galleons," Mr, Mulpepper said, and Callum handed him the golden coins.
Margaret took her new potion supplies in her hands and gripped them carefully, pointedly making sure to keep her distance from Callum as they exited the shop.
Once they were outside, Margaret didn't bother to hide the curiosity in her voice. "How did he know your last name?"
"Old wizarding family." Callum said simply.
"Oh," was all Margaret said, several questions sprouting up in her mind like thorns.
"Oh what?" he asked.
"I suppose you would have acted differently if you knew my parents are muggles?" She asked, and it came out more like an accusation rather than a question.
"You're a mu-- muggle born?" Callum asked. And without waiting for a response, he said, "No. I wouldn't have. Besides my mum's grandfather was a muggle, I think."
Margaret narrowed her eyes at him, barely even hearing the last part of his answer because of what he had almost called her. She shrugged out of his gaze and looked down at her watch.
"Iâ€™d better go," she said, her voice hostile. The air between them was cold again. "My mumâ€™s probably worried sick."
"I didn't mean it like that," Callum insisted. "It was a mistake! I'm not like that usually."
He sounded surprisingly earnest, and Margaret could tell from the look on his face that he meant it.
She hesitated before finally nodding, "Okay." But there was a stiffness that remained in her voice. "I really must get going, though. Thank you forâ€¦"She trailed off awkwardly, not knowing what to say.
"See you at school. Oh, I'll pretend I don't know you. It might be better for both of us." he said with a knowing look.
Margaret nodded again in a mixture of relief and something else--though she didn't quite know what it was-- before turning to go, and the two of them parted ways.