Every year, Remington foolishly assumed that this would be the quiet school year at Rocky Mountain International, and every year, the student body found a way to prove her wrong. Finding out her boyfriend was feeling sick because his ex-girlfriend literally poisoned him wasn’t part of her RMI Disaster Bingo card. Arson, mystery potion explosions, tacos raining from the sky, sure, but not actual attempted murder. And Darlene’s lack of severe punishment made her so incredibly angry. If the Draco had been caught poisoning another student, she would have gotten way more than the slap on the wrist the rich, white, pureblood girl got.
Thankfully, the Headmaster had at least one ounce of sense and assigned Alena to deal with Darlene instead of Remington. She could be Magdalena’s problem.
The seventh year rarely felt angry enough for vengeance, but it absolutely crossed her mind every so often that she still had Ruben’s book of curses, hexes, and other unspeakable nonsense. After all, she loved learning new magic. But Drew just wanted this to be over and respecting his needs mattered way more than her anger.
Despite acting as normal as possible, Remington worried about Drew. He’d get a far away look in his eye every so often, like his thoughts took him somewhere else, and that wasn’t normal. Of course he would have trauma after being literally pineappling poisoned, but knowing that and seeing it were two different things. He needed therapy, a thought she had not kept to herself, but the on-campus therapist was his dad. It would be a summer project. Until then, Remington would be there for whatever he needed.
With everything going on, the seventh year Draco had nearly forgotten that she hadn’t heard back from her top choice - the Chapel Hill and Duke dual program. In fact, it had been so far from the forefront of her constantly running mind that when an owl dropped an ornate envelope into her lap while she finished up one of her final essays in the Finer Diner, it took a moment for the dots to connect.
“Oh.” Her breath caught and she felt her chest tighten in forgotten anticipation. “Oh, sh - I, okay, this is happening.” She reminded herself that she’d gotten plenty of fine acceptances - if it took until the end of term, this was going to be a rejection. It would be okay. She could go to Rice or one of the all-magical schools. She might as well rip off the bandaid quickly and get it over with. Remington tore open the envelope without fanfare, skimmed the document, and nearly dropped it on the floor.
Dear Ms. Remington Burnham,
Blah blah blah, unprecedented number of applicants, standard text, etcetera, We are happy--. She couldn’t stop the joyful squeal, startling a couple students leaving the Diner. “Oh my god!!”
She sat up quickly, her essay abandoned on the table, and half walked, half ran out of the Finer Diner to the Quidditch Pitch. There was a Winter Festival, and she thought Drew would be there, and she had to tell him!! After everything, it was time for good news. She held the letter tightly but tried not to damage or crumple it in any way. Mumbling a quick warming charm on her robes, she burst onto the Quidditch Pitch. Before she could get to Drew, she barreled right into someone, knocking both of them into a pile of snow.
“I’m sorry - but I’m not! I’m sorry but I’m not sorry!” She held up her letter, which she’d managed to keep safe from the wet snow. “I got in!! I got into my top choice!”