Daphne stared forlornly at the Scottish countryside slipping past her window, the world's sounds drowned out by the sheets of rain battering the Hogwarts Express. There was something oddly comforting in the familiarity of the scenery; it nearly always rained at some point during the journey to Hogwarts on the first of September.
But unlike the past six years, things would be completely different this time around.
"She's not coming, is she?" Daphne said softly.
Had anyone been in the compartment with her, all they would have heard was a low hiss. At the sound of her voice, a little snake eased its head from her collar, flicking its forked tongue. It regarded her inquisitively with its beady, black-and-yellow-ringed eyes.
"At least you'll never leave me," sighed Daphne. "Will you, Wyrm?"
Wyrm was a baby grass snake she'd found wandering in the Malfoy estate's gardens. Hoping to find a few insects to sink its little fangs into, it had strayed into a rabbit's burrow and provoked the ire of its proprietor. Its cries for help had reached Daphne's ears, and, without quite knowing why, she had saved it from being savaged by a furious mother rabbit and nursed it back to health.
Daphne delicately tickled Wyrm's snout with the tip of her little finger. It was too young to speak, still very much a baby, but she knew the little snake could understand her every word. She wasn't sure when she'd first become a Parselmouth, but there was no denying what she could do now.
"Oleandra's the lucky one," Daphne murmured to it. "Nobody's ever expected anything out of her…"
As the firstborn daughter of the illustrious Greengrass family, perfection had always been expected of her. The spitting image of her mother— as all firstborn daughters of the line had been since time immemorial— she was expected to shoulder the responsibility, the honour, and the signature magic bound to the family name.
As a defect thought to be a Squib in her childhood, Oleandra might have faced her own set of difficulties, and maybe her parents hadn't loved her as much, but she'd never known the soul-crushing weight of expectations. Astoria was much the same, due to her blood malediction. Nothing had ever been expected of them but uselessness and death.
Her sisters had freedom. They were free to live their lives as they pleased.
To this day, Oleandra still did as she wished, while her elder sister remained bound by obligations— no longer to their parents, but to her master, the Dark Lord. And if Oleandra's prophecy was to be believed, this bondage would never end.
That red-eyed monster in human skin was immortal… and so was she.
"I can understand why Astoria won't speak to me," Daphne growled, "but Oleandra barely lifted a finger to save Dumbledore! No, she can't avoid me for ever!"
Daphne's sudden outburst startled her grass snake, which slipped back into her collar as she abruptly stood. A wave of vertigo washed over her, still unused to her new height, but she quickly shook off the dizziness and slid open the glass-panelled door and stepped outside.
"Wait, Milady," said Crabbe thickly. "The rest of your… er, guard, is still in the toilet—"
In all likelihood, Goyle had eaten too many sweets from the trolley or consumed some tainted morsel picked fresh from the floor, and had come down with an upset stomach and locked himself in the loo.
"I don't care much for being followed everywhere I go," said Daphne coldly. "I am going to see my sister, and I would rather not have you breathing heavily in my ear while I speak with her."
In a supreme effort of thinking, Crabbe began mentally debating which scenario would be worse for him. Dereliction of duty for failing to adequately protect the Dark Lady in case something happened to her? Or upsetting the Dark Lady with his audible breathing?
Just to make sure, Crabbe decided to hold his breath while he thought, though Daphne could now almost hear the gears slowly grinding in his head rather than his obnoxious mouth-breathing. Taking advantage of his absorption, Daphne discreetly slipped away and stepped into the next coach, where Oleandra supposedly was, at least according to Draco.
The train rocked, and Daphne nearly lost her footing. What a disgraceful sight that would have been— the dreaded Dark Lady on all fours in the middle of the corridor, having tripped over the flower patterns in the carpet…
"These long legs will be the death of me," Daphne grumbled under her breath, glancing left and right. "Frosted glass… that would be my sister. Nobody else would dare deface the Express like this."
One of the glass-panelled doors in the coach had grown almost completely opaque. Daphne stalked over and raised her hand to knock, only to see two distinct silhouettes behind the glass. Hearing voices, she pressed her ear against the cool door and sent a few prehensile hairs snaking from her head to work the lock.
"…someone's at the door."
Daphne's eyes widened, and a split second later, the door slid open, and she fell into her sister's arms.
"Listening at the door? Sneaky," said Oleandra in a mocking tone, as she helped her sister find her balance. "If I were the high-and-mighty Dark Lady, I would have just kicked it down without a second thought."
Daphne looked around the compartment. Save for Oleandra, it was empty.
"Who else was in there with you?" she asked suspiciously.
"Just me and my thoughts," said Oleandra enigmatically. "Oh, and Dumbledore and Father dropped by to pay me a visit as well."
Daphne's face turned pale.
Had Oleandra figured it out?
"What's wrong?" asked Oleandra in concern.
Judging by her reaction, Oleandra was just taking the piss out of her. It was just a joke in terrible taste. She didn't know. She couldn't possibly know.
Oleandra pursed her lips as she examined her sister. Daphne had grown into a striking beauty just like her in a matter of months, yet she had never looked as miserable as she did now. Despite knowing she would have to kill her sooner or later, Oleandra could not help wrapping her elder sister in an embrace, holding her tightly against herself.
"It's okay," she whispered. "I'm right here."
The implication of Oleandra's words went unsaid.
Daphne's suffering would soon come at an end, at her own sister's hands.
And yet… Oleandra couldn't get Merlin's words out of her head. Was she really prioritising what was most important if she went through with this?