𝕄𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝔻𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕

The Great Hall was known to be a place full of energy and excitement. Students could always be heard laughing with one another and chatting with their friends. The aroma of different biscuits, meats, and fresh pastries had a lingering presence around the tables further adding to the warm atmosphere. 

Unfortunately, Sekhmet wasn’t quite as happy inside as she had hoped to be whilst enveloped by the whimsical environment. No, she was feeling rather the opposite as she stared down at the perfectly sealed letter that was to determine her fate. 

The cobra and vulture wax seal was one that Sekhmet would recognize even in death. Her family’s insignia never meant anything good if it was coming from her father, and since her mother’s death, the identity of the sender was always a guarantee. 

Regulus sat across from her, his eyes staring intently upon Sekhmet’s anxious form as she gazed at the aged parchment. 

He knew that getting a letter from home was never a good thing. Hell, just last week he had gotten a letter from his mother about the upcoming events during Christmas break. Sekhmet had sat by him after, holding his hand whilst he went throughout the day as if in some sort of fog. He hadn’t told her about the contents of the letter— not that she’d asked. She was never one to pry about what his parents sent him, but she was always there to offer support. In return, Regulus did the same for her, hence why he was waiting to see Sekhmet’s reaction once she opened the Merlin-forsaken letter. 

Sekhmet was terrified. The topic of her engagement hadn’t come up recently but she knew it was only a matter of time. She had yet to tell her friends about the situation, although she was aware that many of them were probably going through the same struggles. They were all purebloods who were “becoming of age” after all. As she held the letter in shaky hands she furrowed her brows and set her lips in steely determination. She tore off the seal and let her eyes skim the letter’s contents.

𝒮𝑒𝓀𝒽𝓂𝑒𝓉,  

𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒜𝓃𝓃𝓊𝒶𝓁 𝐻𝑜𝓁𝒾𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝐵𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀. 𝐻𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒾𝑔𝒽 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒷𝓁𝑜𝑜𝒹. 𝐻𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓈𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓃𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓃𝑜𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔.  

‎دعوا الكل يعرف إنه لو خربت الماتش ده هتشوف غضب إيدي. انت بالفعل عار على العيلة دي، ما تجيبش لنا العار كمان. (daeuu alkula yaerif 'iinah law kharabt almatsh dah hitshuf ghadab 'iidi. ant bialfiel ear ealaa aleilat di, ma tujibish lana alear kaman: Let it be known that if you mess up this match you will meet the wrath of my hand. You are already a stain on this family, do not bring us down with the burden of your shame as well.)

‎- 𝒮𝑒𝓉 𝒜𝓇𝒶𝒻𝒶

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Sekhmet was seething. Not only had the coward not had the gall to tell her who her betrothed was to be, but he also dared to insinuate that she would purposely disgrace her family. She may not like her father but she didn’t dislike her brothers enough to publicly drench herself in rumors of ruin. 

Sekhmet’s hands were tensed in fists, her face set in an eerily neutral manner as she walked. Beside her stood Pandora Lestrange, who was speaking in her naturally whimsy and elegant tone about some assignment they had coming up for Defense Against the Dark Arts. The two were heading to the library to study though Sekhmet wasn’t truly listening to the words coming out of Pandora’s mouth. Regardless, her words seemed to soothe the angry residue left from Set’s letter. 

Perhaps Pandora would understand Sekhmet though. After all, being sorted into Ravenclaw had already left her on shaky terms with the rest of her family. For someone from the Lestrange family to be sorted into anything but Slytherin was a shock, but Pandora had never fit into the mold that most people deemed normal. Sekhmet loved her for it.

Just as Sekhmet moved to speak, turning her body toward Pandora it was as if some kind of dewy smoke had consumed her mind. Her vision went white and a series of images flashed through her mind.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Those horrifying red eyes were staring at her again, looking almost directly into her mind. They seemed to be at some sort of ball, though it was hard to tell with Sekhmet’s vision having a fuzzy blur around the edges. It was as though she were looking through an old, dusty spyglass and her ears were filled with cotton. The only thing that she could see clearly was the man in front of her holding his hand out as if inviting her to dance. 

The red-eyed man seemed familiar, though she couldn’t quite place who he was. Her mind raced going through different memories as if to try and figure out where she had seen him before. When the man’s lips turned up in a smirk and his posture was sure and steady it hit her— she had seen him at her brother’s wedding. 

His chiseled jaw and sharp cheekbones gave him an attractive stature, though there was simply something off about him. Despite his otherwise normal appearance his red eyes made Sekhmet feel increasingly wary. It was as though he wasn’t quite human— as if some integral part of him wasn’t fully there. A shiver went down her spine. 

“Hello darling,” He spoke, his voice as smooth as honey, “It is wonderful to meet you.” A charming smirk on his lips, “I think we’ll grow to be a very powerful pair.