Carina spent the Christmas holiday in a foul mood.
She still couldn't believe it. That Harry Potter had dared to push her away—and over something as trite as family safety, no less.
Harry Potter, of all people, doing that to Carina Malfoy, of all people.
It was utterly unacceptable. Cowardly, petty, contemptible, unconscionable—no string of insults was sufficient to capture the sheer wretchedness of what he'd done.
In any case, Carina needed to cooperate with Harry Potter if she was going to protect her family. The diary had turned out to be a soul fragment of the Dark Lord, and her father had been the one to expose it. That meant the Dark Lord never returning was the best possible outcome for the Malfoy family. Carina had been willing to help Harry Potter in order to secure that outcome.
*No—not help. I was going to do him a favour so he'd give the diary back. That's all it was.*
And yet Harry Potter, who had used that very diary to blackmail her, had been the one to push her away.
Why? If that was how it was going to be, why had he told her about the diary in the first place?
She had briefly considered explaining everything to her father and asking for his help. If Lucius knew the diary's true nature, fear alone might drive him to cooperate with Dumbledore.
But after a moment's reflection, Carina shook her head.
*No. The more people who know this secret, the more dangerous it becomes.*
She loved her father. She simply didn't trust him.
This was a man who had casually disposed of a 'precious and secret object' entrusted to him by the Dark Lord himself. For all his cold, imperious bearing, he was quietly prone to fear, and his actions shifted with his moods—hardly the qualities of a reliable secret-keeper. The Dark Lord himself was proof of that. Thanks to him, Dumbledore and Harry Potter had obtained information they had no business having.
*Above all, I have to consider the possibility that the Dark Lord actually returns.*
If the Malfoy family—who had spent years keeping Dumbledore in check—suddenly reversed course, they would draw suspicion from every direction. It wouldn't take long before they were found out.
And if Harry Potter was right, if the Dark Lord was truly alive... traitors would be the first to be executed.
Carina was still brooding when the sound of rapid footsteps came pattering down the corridor. She recognised them immediately—Draco, her younger brother. She exhaled slowly and composed her expression.
"Sis! Look at this! It's a broomstick—a Christmas present!"
Draco Malfoy burst through the door, his platinum hair catching the light as he flashed a guileless grin and held the broom aloft.
"It's a Cleansweep Ten! I mean, it's not a Nimbus—just a Cleansweep, which is a bit disappointing—but Father promised he'd buy me a better one when I start Hogwarts! Until then, this one will do for Quidditch practice!"
Carina pressed her palm to her forehead and regarded her chattering brother.
"Draco. When entering a lady's room, you knock first. That is basic courtesy."
"How are you a lady? Sleeping all day on Christmas isn't what a lady does—that's what a bear does!"
*Snap.*
Carina swept her hair back and rose from the bed. Draco took a cautious step backward.
"You cheeky little brat. A few days apart and you've apparently forgotten all respect for your sister. Shall I cast a Tickling Jinx to remind you?"
"Y-you can't! Underage magic is prohibited outside of Hogwarts!"
"My, you've learned some big words, Draco. But I don't need a wand to tickle you."
Draco resisted with great energy, but a four-year age gap proved an insurmountable obstacle. Cornered against the wall, he collapsed to the floor in helpless giggles as Carina's fingers worked relentlessly at his sides.
After a prolonged bout of rolling around, Draco scrambled upright, eyes watering, and pointed an accusing finger.
"Just you wait! The moment I get to Hogwarts, the first spell I'm learning is a Tickling Jinx, and I'm using it on you!"
"You still have two years. By then I'll have passed my O.W.L.s and be a fully qualified witch."
"Doesn't matter! I'll make the Quidditch team as Seeker the first week, pass my N.E.W.T.s, get top marks on every exam—I'll catch up to you in no time!"
"Yes, yes. Do your best."
Draco stuck his tongue out at her breezy dismissal. When Carina raised her hand again, he bolted for the door.
"Mum says dinner's ready! And she wants to open your Christmas presents together! Mine are better, obviously!"
"Fine. I'll get dressed and come down."
"Don't bother getting dressed—it won't make a difference anyway!"
"Why, you little—"
Carina watched him flee down the corridor, a smile on her lips. But the moment he disappeared from sight, that smile guttered out like a candle caught in a draught.
The small, mischievous boy with his guileless grin was laughing without the faintest idea of the shadow hanging over their family. That was as it should be, at his age. Keeping that smile intact was Carina Malfoy's duty.
She would not allow any shadow to take it from him.
She murmured quietly to herself.
"Right. I won't interfere."
Let Harry Potter manage on his own. If he could do it without her help, then fine.
But if he failed—if the Dark Lord returned—she would cut ties and get out before anyone else. And then she would become the most devoted servant imaginable, and spend every effort earning forgiveness for her father's sins.
She was prepared to do whatever it took to protect her family. Even if it amounted to a kind of betrayal.
That was the vow Carina made to herself.
When the Christmas holiday ended, Malfoy returned to her routine.
Attend classes, eat meals, spend time with friends, then Quidditch practice or homework. Sleep, and wake to another unremarkable day. Life as it had always been, more or less.
The one difference was that she no longer had much to do with Harry Potter.
Malfoy didn't so much as glance in his direction. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, she kept her eyes forward and her attention on her own affairs.
In the classes they shared—Potions and Care of Magical Creatures—Malfoy didn't spare him a single look. Not even when Snape was in the middle of dressing Harry Potter down, which was ordinarily a spectacle worth watching.
"Potter. I said a Confusing Concoction. What exactly have you made?"
"A Confusing Concoction, sir."
"Don't lie to me! This is a Cheering Charm in potion form!"
"No, sir—it's a Confusing Concoction. At least for you. Because your natural state is always being in a bad mood, so anything that makes you feel better would have to be confusing."
Most of the Gryffindors burst out laughing. Even a few Slytherins couldn't hold it in. Of course, one look from Snape was enough to make everyone hold their breath and stare at the floor.
Snape's voice came out cold and flat with barely contained fury.
"...Twenty points from Gryffindor. And if you haven't completed your Confusing Concoction by the end of class, it will be a hundred points and a detention. Since you're so clever, let's see you prove it."
"Oh dear. I'd better empty this cauldron. Shame to waste it, though—anyone want to try my Cheering Potion? I made it milk-tea flavoured, special."
Goyle grabbed Crabbe by the arm before she could stand up, and gave her a pointed look. Malfoy tipped badger bile into her cauldron as though she'd heard nothing, and stirred five times.
Snape came to stand before her and gave a short nod.
"Well done, Malfoy. Flawless, as always."
Even as he said it, Snape was watching her with that expectant look he'd had ever since she submitted her report on werewolves. Malfoy had been on the receiving end of it for weeks now, but she turned away without acknowledging it.
Now that she knew Sirius's true identity, searching for an inside informant was pointless. Harry Potter and Dumbledore—they were the insiders.
In the end, just as Harry had said: there was nothing Malfoy could do.
"May I leave early, Professor?"
"You may. Anyone who has finished may go."
Malfoy packed up quickly and left the Potions classroom. Crabbe and Goyle rushed to finish their own work and followed after her.
Harry Potter was sitting near the corridor. She didn't want to look at him, but he entered her field of vision regardless, and she didn't bother looking away.
Surrounded by a cluster of noisy classmates, Harry Potter was the only one not laughing.
In Charms, they practised Cheering Charms. Crabbe cast one on Malfoy with a hopeful expression after making Goyle dissolve into laughter, but Malfoy felt only a faint tickle—nothing resembling actual cheer. Crabbe assumed she'd done something wrong and raised her hand, but even Professor Flitwick failed to produce any effect on Malfoy, which at least confirmed it wasn't Crabbe's fault. A flustered Flitwick announced in a more squawky voice than usual:
"Ah—in some cases, a witch or wizard with particularly strong mental defences may be resistant to this sort of charm!"
Curious Slytherins began approaching one by one to try their luck. By the fifth attempt—Pansy Parkinson waving her wand at her—Malfoy's patience ran out. She snapped at Pansy and retreated to a corner.
Crabbe and Goyle made every effort to improve her mood. The sheer sincerity of their trying was, in itself, enough to soften her slightly, and she walked to the Great Hall in marginally better spirits.
The Great Hall was as loud as ever. The Gryffindor table in particular was producing something close to shouting.
"That bloody animal killed Scabbers!"
"Ron, calm down."
"Harry, you saw it too! That cat has been tormenting Scabbers for its own amusement—and now it's finally got bored and taken a bite! Scabbers wouldn't have even had time to feel it!"
"Mate. Scabbers is probably still alive."
"How can you be so sure? There was cat fur and blood!"
Malfoy had deliberately sat with her back to the Gryffindor table, but their voices were far too loud to ignore.
The Slytherins were glancing over as well.
"What's all that about?"
"Apparently the Weasley family rat is dead."
"That ancient thing? If a passing owl had eaten it, that would still count as natural causes."
Malfoy knew about Weasley's precious rat, and felt nothing in particular about its fate. If it had ever set foot in Malfoy Manor, it would have been owl bait.
Weasley, apparently having formed a genuine attachment to a common rat, was now bellowing across the table.
"So you're taking Hermione's side, is that it?"
"I'm not taking anyone's side. I just think you're placing too much importance on a rat."
"Of course I am! Scabbers was family!"
Harry replied in a measured tone.
"You might want to think twice before saying that again. It'll follow you for the rest of your life."
"Even you're laughing at me now! Fine—things didn't work out with Malfoy, so now you're moving on to other friends, is that it? Do whatever you like!"
The reason Malfoy didn't react immediately was that too many feelings hit her at once—like ropes pulling her in every direction, leaving her momentarily frozen.
The Slytherin table went quiet for a moment as well.
"Come to think of it, I saw Harry Potter and Granger walking together earlier, just the two of them..."
"Oh my. Already?"
"So Harry Potter and... it wasn't her after all?"
"Did something happen over Christmas? Carina—"
*Sting.*
The girl caught Malfoy's glare and immediately buried her face in her food. Malfoy kept her ears open while mechanically stabbing at her chicken.
She didn't even know what things didn't work out with Malfoy was supposed to mean—and now he was supposedly with Hermione? Really?
Then again, those three had been inseparable for years. It wouldn't be strange for any two of them to end up together.
Besides, Malfoy had nothing to do with Harry Potter anymore. It wasn't her concern.
It had never been her concern in that sense to begin with.
"Ron has completely lost his head. There's no proof Crookshanks attacked anyone! If he thought about it rationally, like Harry, he'd see that!"
"...Hermione. The reason I took your side wasn't because I think Crookshanks didn't attack him."
A line with intent behind it. Crabbe and Goyle, sensing something instinctively, shot a cautious glance at Malfoy.
Malfoy dragged her fork through her food with unnecessary force. The chicken had been reduced to shreds, practically fibrous. Still, the fork kept moving.
Harry Potter and Malfoy were nothing to each other now—they'd been enemies since first year, and that was the whole of it. Whatever he did was no concern of hers.
She understood that perfectly well in her head. Her mood kept worsening anyway. She had the distinct feeling that nothing could make it worse than this.
"Hermione. I need to borrow your 'secret.'"
"Harry? But that's—"
"We need time."
*Bang.*
Malfoy set her fork down and stood up. She walked out of the Great Hall at a brisk, deliberate pace.
The remaining Slytherins looked at Crabbe and Goyle.
"Aren't you going after her?"
"Stop dumping your heavy loads on us every time. We're people too."
"You two do something for once! How long are you going to make us carry everything?"
Whatever hierarchy was being renegotiated inside the Great Hall was none of Malfoy's business. She strode down the corridor alone, fuming.
*A few days and he's already found someone else? Hmph. What else would you expect from someone like him.*
Yes. That was all it had ever amounted to. A past connection—no, not even a connection. A handful of incidents, nothing more.
She wasn't going to dwell on something so trivial. Carina Malfoy was far too dignified to be held hostage by trivialities.
She was walking herself through this reasoning when, at the far end of the corridor, she caught sight of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger climbing a staircase together. Their figures vanished around a corner.
Malfoy broke into a run.
But she reached the top of the stairs and found no one. The corridor was empty.
She stood there, briefly irritated, and then a question surfaced.
She had just left the Great Hall. Until moments ago, those two had still been at their table. How could they possibly have appeared so far ahead of her?
Had she imagined it? Malfoy retraced her steps down the staircase and looked back toward the Great Hall—
And there they were. Coming out of the doors, finishing their meal. The same faces, the same hair. Unmistakably Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.
She must have been so preoccupied that she'd seen things. Malfoy watched the two of them walk away. She was standing slightly above them on the staircase, half-hidden, and they passed without noticing her.
"You really shouldn't use it carelessly..."
"Is there anyone who uses it more carelessly than you?"
She was barely managing to keep her temper in check, and had just resolved—as she had earlier—to ignore whatever Harry Potter was doing and go back to the dormitory.
Then something clicked, and she turned sharply.
The direction they were heading. That was the way to the girls' bathroom. The one that had seen little traffic since a troll had demolished it years ago.
Once she'd noticed, she was already following them.
The two of them glanced around briefly, then turned down the dead-end corridor where the bathroom was. Malfoy stopped at the corner. Going any further would give her away.
For someone who had built her entire identity on pride, being caught skulking after someone was a humiliation almost too great to bear.
But the thought of simply turning back and walking away felt like something that would keep her awake for days. And now that she'd come this far, some part of her wanted to see it through to the end.
Malfoy took a slow breath and assembled her justification.
Right. This was for the protection of a Muggle-born. This was Malfoy's effort to shield a witch of mixed blood from the predatory designs of the dissolute Harry Potter.
Now that she thought about it, she did rather need to use the bathroom. And since this was the girls' bathroom, there was nothing remotely suspicious about her going in.
With her mind made up, Malfoy walked forward and pushed the door open. She had promised herself she would not be surprised or disappointed by whatever she found.
What she found was something she had not anticipated in the slightest.
The girls' bathroom was completely empty.
Malfoy stood there with the distinct feeling that she had been bewitched.