Who Could Love a Wicked Witch?

-ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"Have you been reading more of Elphaba's diary?"

Hermione asked as she sat down next to Emerald at the library.

"Well," She began as she recalled her times over break, "No, actually. I spent more time in the Grimmerie than in her diary."

"Ah," Hermione said as she pulled a charms textbook from her bag. "The book of Ozian spells. That must be why your arms are now green?" Emerald nodded.

"The Witch of the West... she had some interesting spells. It's all written in some strange foreign language." She pulled the Grimmerie out of her bag to show Hermione. "See." She opened it to a spell, one that Elphaba herself had bookmarked. "For Fiyero."

"Who's Fiyero?" Hermione asked. Emerald shrugged. "Not sure." She said. "I believe he was someone who helped her, Elphaba I mean, but there's no trace of him in the Mother's stories so obviously Dorothy never knew him. If I were in Oz I could find out, Oz must have a record of their history and their people." Hermione's eyes lit up at the idea of research.

"Oh when you return to Oz promise me you'll do just that. I'd love to hear about it- why even help! Oh to help research in a foreign magical land! Ugh that just sounds so invigorating!" Emerald couldn't help but chuckle at Hermione's words but one thing stuck out to her that Hermione had said.

Something that warmed her heart and spoke of a promise. Hermione had said it herself, it wasn't just Emerald's wishful thinking. 'When you return to Oz' not if you return to Oz.

"You'll read more tonight, wont you?" Hermione asked. "Hm?" "Of her diary... perhaps you'll even find out who Fiyero is." She suggested. Emerald nodded. It had been a while since she dove into the lost words of her grandmother.

"Yes," She replied with a nod. "I think I will."

✮ ⊹₊ 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊₊ ⊹ ✮

Emerald sat nestled in her favorite chair in the Slytherin common room. It was late and most all students had gone to bed. Not her, not yet. She held Elphaba's diary in her hands and opened to the page she had last read and continued where she left off.

Nessa was gone.

All that remained were the shoes, her shoes. They were once a gift from our father and I had enchanted them for her, to give her brilliance and prosperity. To give her the power, the gift, of transportation.

She could visit anyone she pleased whenever she wanted. I had hoped she would use it to visit me.. But that was never true. Nessa was corrupted by the Grimmerie, it turned he soul dark. I had already lost my sister before she was truly gone and then came that little farm girl.

DOROTHY, I think they called her. She was around the age of Liir. My son.

In the time of my concealment I gave birth to a healthy winkie boy. His father couldn't be around at his birth, his father, Fiyero, was busy in the capital city of OZ.

In the Emerald City Fieyro worked from the inside to keep me and his son concealed. He guided Glinda, the wizard, and the others away from us. He was our spy.

Until he was found out.

Fiyero was hung for his crimes and I lashed out in the only way I could think that would still keep me safe. The spell book, my spell book. I resorted to the Grimmerie once again to save him.

To save my true love. He didn't die, in fact, but I changed him completely. Some could say I ruined him, I deformed him, but beauty is not what's on the outside that matters.

Fiyero taught me that... among many things.

✮ ⊹₊ 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊₊ ⊹ ✮

DOROTHY.

She was young and she was so naive. I lashed out on her. I lashed out on anyone who gave me the chance to. But Dorothy didn't understand, no, she didn't understand many things that surrounded her and her arrival in Oz.

I was never going to hurt her, the child, no, all I wanted were those shoes.

Every threat I made to her was empty but as the Ozians often did, they believed it. They believed every lie that was fed to them.

Dorothy was a pawn in a game much larger than she ever was. She never knew that. She was used, poor girl, she was used in a narrative that pushed me to be the villain once and for all. I begged Glinda one final time after Dorothy left the sight of my sister's murder. I begged Glinda not to make me the enemy, to spread the truth. But Glinda.... Oh sweet Glinda.

She wept to me on her hands and knees. She confessed to me that there was nothing she could do anymore. This was larger than she was now. This was the wizard's game. This was his narrative. Dorothy was just his pawn.

The wizard lied, that's all he ever did. Glinda apologized to me fiercely. She told me to escape before any guards came to arrest me. She told me what had become of Fiyero, a terrible fate.

She would keep my presence here silent from the wizard. She would cover for me, one last time. She told me her sorrowful goodbye and I left.

I had a feeling I would never see her again. And I never did. Dorothy was all I wanted now. Dorothy and those shoes which belonged to me now.

I would make sure she knew that too.

✮ ⊹₊ 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊₊ ⊹ ✮

Emerald perked up in her seat when she saw someone entering the common room.

"Draco."

She said, her voice was just above a whisper. He stopped in his tracks and turned to her. "What were you doing out so late?" She asked and her eyes took in the sight of him. Even paler than normal, eyes sunken in, thinner than usual.

"You look awful."

She stood, placing The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West in her seat. "What have you been doing?" She asked as she walked over to him.

"I told you," Draco said. "His plan." Emerald's body grew stiff.

"Draco..." She said slowly. She knew where he had been, up in that room with the cabinet. Working on whatever it was the dark lord had instructed him to do. He stepped closer to her.

"I'm so tired." He said, his voice was airy and full of exhaustion. Emerald could see just how much of a toll this was taking on him. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his head in the crook of her neck.

"No, Draco."

She stood back and pushed him off of her. He looked down at her, confused. "It's time I told you something, Something I have been thinking." His demeanor stiffened.

"It's time you choose." She explained. "You don't have to choose right now, by all mean's I'm not that stiff," She continued, "But I need you to choose." She continued. "You have to choose."

"Choose what?" "Me or the dark lord." He grew incredibly still as he looked at the witch of the west with wide bewildered eyes.

"What?" He hissed. "I can't go on like this. Draco I care for you... so much. But you continue to do these things... whatever they are... you don't have to tell me, and quite honestly I don't care to know what they are, but you keep working to support the man who had my mother killed."

"You don't know that." Draco sneered. "Are you serious?" Emerald snapped.

"Death eaters attacked us, they attacked Dorothy with the intent to kill, Draco, they attacked me!"

"No I didn't!"

She froze. She stepped back.

"What did you say?" He was silent. "Draco..." She said his name differently now, which uncertainty.

"Were you there the day they attacked us.. The day they attacked my mother, my home?" He breathed in and then out.

"Yes." He admitted. "But I didn't... I couldn't... I never killed anyone." He said. "You must understand that." He stepped closer to her. "Please Emmy." He reached out to her.

She slapped his hands away. "Don't touch me." She hissed. "Emerald please." Draco persisted. "Get away from me."

"I love you."

"No you don't." She raised her voice, tears spilling down her cheeks, burning her skin.

"You love the idea of me. Whatever idea of me that you have created in your delusional head." She snapped.

"You love the idea of me following you blindly and submitted to the dark lord. You love the idea of Voldemort's puppet!" She snapped at him. "You don't love me and you never did!" "Emerald please!"

The hollowing sound of a snap echoed around the hall as Emerald swiped her hand clean across Draco's face. A mark, red and bright, formed on his pale skin from where her hand had made contact with his skin. His eyes sharpened at her.

"Bitch." He muttered.

"Do you feel better?" He sneered. "Yes." Emerald replied. "I do actually." "Good." Draco replied as he repaid her, slapping her as well.

"So do I." Emerald's hand reached up to her raw cheek where his hand had hit her. Her nails grazed the skin. She looked at him.

"Don't make me your enemy." She warned him.

"Seems like you've already made me yours." He retorted.

"Fine." Emerald snapped. "You wanted to see a wicked witch? That's what you wanted when you met me, wasn't it? When you loved me? You wanted a wicked witch. Fine. then that's exactly what you'll get." She snapped at him.

"You'll see just how wicked I can get."