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She is three years old when she begins to remember what she was. In a past life she was still and silent and equanimous and swift and unmerciful. Her mind was quiet, intentions and feelings taut like wire and all perfectly aligned toward a solitary purpose that burned bright and sharp like a star, a purpose that she cannot yet recall. She tries to move like that and think like that, but her body is small and clumsy and her mind is clamorous with no room for the thoughts she is accustomed to thinking and the feelings she is accustomed to feeling, and her mother thinks it is sweet, and she hates her, and she remembers that too.
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His gaze darts between Fred and George and Millicent, and then settles rather firmly on Clover.
"Hiiii!" Millicent coos. "Hello! Are you Scabbers? My name is Millicent!" She holds out a finger for Scabbers to sniff.
Ron looks like he's not sure quite what to do with the attention-by-proxy, but pleased nonetheless. "Do you want to hold him?"
"Yes!!!!!" Millicent exclaims, very quietly so as not to startle Scabbers but very enthusiastically nonetheless.
her_equal
Clover is determinedly wearing her sweet darling smile. People like people who like animals, she is pretty sure. She pretends to be charmed by Scabbers. She can't quite pull off as-charmed-as-Millicent, but that probably wouldn't be on brand for little Clover Evans-Potter anyway. Coo coo scritch scritch et cetera.
After a few minutes of this Scabbers goes back into Ron's hat, Ron looking rather pleased with himself.
"Is it Ronnie's turn with the family pet?" comes a snide girl's voice.
her_equal
Clover turns and sets her jaw. She recognizes that voice and has no interest in its alliance.
For a moment she isn't even being sweet young Clover Evans-Potter any more; she just swishes to face her enemy and fixes her with Maledict Gaunt's glare and says,
"Leave."
Pansy's not fazed, though, nor are Crabbe or Goyle behind her.
"Oh you don't know about the Weasleys do you Clover?" Pansy says with sickly sweetness. "There's about twenty of them and they only have one familiar between them." Crabbe and Goyle snicker.
her_equal
Okay that's not going to work yet. Ugh. Instead she turns up the sweetness of her grin a few notches past what a child's face can naturally do and says, "This doesn't interest me, Pansy. Go away."
"You don't have to stand with them," Pansy says. With a dark look at Millicent: "You know that's not a proper Bulstrode, right?"
her_equal
"That's all right," she says loftily, and examines her nails. "I'm not a proper Evans either." (And for bonus points that's a bit more of a charming young Clover Evans-Potter kind of dig.)
Pansy makes a loud sort of scoffing noise in the back of her throat.
"Arse off?" repeats Crabbe or Goyle incredulously.
"I don't think that's the expression," Goyle or Crabbe sneers.
the-other-one
"It's a threat," says George. "If you don't leave us alone we're going to hex your arse off."
"You lot want a fight?" probably-Goyle sneers.
the-other-one
"Dunno where you lot learned to count but we outnumber you five to three," George says.
gred-and-forge
"Is it three?" Fred says. "I thought those two were a two-headed troll."
the-other-one
"Point being I wouldn't be quite so confident in your shoes, Gargoyle."
Millicent eeps, and sidles around Clover a bit so Clover can protect her from Snape instead of from Parkinson and her goons.