"Viktor! What on earth are you saying? You can't be my partner?"
"Headmaster, what are you saying? I choose my own partner."
"Viktor!"
Viktor Krum left the cabin without another word.
Karkaroff stood there with a stricken expression, then quickly rearranged his face and turned to Carina.
"Miss Malfoy. My apologies. I never imagined Viktor would change his attitude so suddenly."
"Apologies?"
Viktor Krum had refused Carina's request. He'd declared that he preferred someone more vivacious—that he would be choosing a different partner, someone other than Carina Malfoy.
And yet, despite being rejected to her face, Carina found she felt surprisingly little in the way of offense.
Her mood had already been at rock bottom from the moment she'd set foot on this ship.
"You have nothing to apologize to me for. I never received a direct answer from Viktor Krum to begin with—only your baseless assurances, Headmaster."
"I am sorry. He's never been this difficult. I never imagined he'd be foolish enough to turn down someone like you, Carina..."
"Never mind. I'll be going now. I only came looking for a suitable partner—it doesn't have to be him."
"No, no—we have other students here at Durmstrang!"
"Do I look like clearance merchandise to you?"
Carina fired the words at him like a hex, then stepped out onto the deck before he could stop her. Several Durmstrang students moved in, sensing an opportunity, but she brushed past every one of them and disembarked.
With each step down the gangway, something heavy settled further into her chest.
Had Harry planned this from the start?
Following Harry's instructions, she had approached Viktor Krum—or rather, Karkaroff, who was connected to him—and let it be known, as casually as she could manage, that she wished to be Viktor's partner.
Given that it was generally the boy who made such requests, Carina had swallowed her pride to do it.
All because Harry had asked her to.
"Bastard."
And she had been rejected, cleanly and publicly.
She had no particular feelings about Viktor Krum choosing someone else—but being refused, by anyone, was a blow she hadn't been prepared for.
Even so, she could have borne it. If he had appeared right then and there, she could have forgiven everything. If he'd shown up with that insufferable face of his, explaining his clever plan with that air of self-satisfaction, and taken her hand—she would have thrown a small fit, yes, but she could have accepted it.
But Harry Potter had not appeared. Not for three days.
Where he had gone, what had become of him—she had no idea. Even Ron and Hermione said they hadn't seen him in days, and had asked with breezy unconcern whether he'd simply stepped out somewhere for the holidays.
The ring gave no response. Carina had no way of knowing his condition.
She didn't care about the ball anymore. She just wanted to know he was in one piece.
"Truly, what a—"
Perhaps even that was asking too much.
The air off the lake pressed down on her like a weight.
Carina prepared for the ball without knowing whether Harry was coming, or whether he was safe at all.
She washed her hair, applied the glossing potion, braided it herself, and put on the formal dress her parents had sent.
Sitting still in her violet gown, Carina looked like a doll. She was that beautiful—and that devoid of life.
Barnette Crabbe noticed her vacant expression and came over.
"Come on, Malfoy. The ball's soon, isn't it? Time to get moving."
Carina didn't stir. Crabbe tried coaxing her.
"Viktor Krum is waiting, isn't he? He's a famous Quidditch player. Harry Potter is famous too, sure, but he's still just a boy. Go with Krum and you'll be the star of the whole evening."
That wasn't going to happen. Viktor Krum had already found someone else.
And the person who'd sent her to him in the first place was nowhere to be seen.
Carina was, by nature, a willful princess. When things didn't go her way, she would throw tantrums, sulk, and make everyone around her miserable.
But today, she didn't even have the energy for that.
"...You're right."
Carina smiled faintly and rose to her feet.
Crabbe, watching her comply without a word of protest, looked very nearly terrified.
"You're not under the Imperius Curse... are you?"
"No."
"Then what? What did Harry Potter do to you?"
Why on earth was she asking about Harry, of all things. Carina smoothed her expression and shook her head.
"Nothing."
"Nothing? What do you mean, nothing? How can that be! It's the Christmas Ball. If not now, then when!"
Crabbe was furious—furiously, loudly, magnificently furious. As though she were determined to feel the anger on Carina's behalf.
Had a friend always been this steadfast a thing?
Watching Crabbe rage as though it were her own grievance, Carina felt the value of friendship strike her—quite suddenly, quite genuinely—for perhaps the first time.
"...Crabbe. Did you know?"
"Of course I knew! How many years have I watched you? Anyone with half a brain could see it!"
Carina had, if she was honest, been dismissing Crabbe's perceptiveness for years.
Perhaps she had underestimated her too much. Had she known sooner, she might have been startled.
But now, with her emotions worn flat, all she could manage was a quiet: so you knew.
"Get up, Malfoy! I'll be your partner myself if it comes to it!"
"You said you were going with Theodore Nott."
"I'll stand him up! Goyle would do the same!"
Remarkably, her mood lifted—just slightly. Carina followed Crabbe toward the Great Hall.
The walls were draped in silver frost. The black ceiling above glittered with stars, and hundreds of garlands woven from mistletoe hung suspended in the air. The long house tables had been cleared away, replaced by dozens of smaller ones seating twelve apiece.
On each table, scented lanterns cast a soft, amber glow—as though celebrating every couple that had been born here, or ever would be.
The Champions were to enter after all other students had been seated.
I probably won't see Harry at all, Carina thought, and smiled with a bitterness she didn't bother to hide as she made her way inside.
Carina drew every eye in the room. With Fleur Delacour and Cho Chang not yet present, there was no question who was the most beautiful person in the hall—it was Carina Malfoy, without contest.
The other students stared, puzzled as to why she had entered early, and why she was alone.
"Didn't they say Malfoy was Krum's partner?"
"I saw Krum with someone else earlier."
Whispers circled her. A few girls smiled with the particular, ambiguous satisfaction of those who feel they've witnessed a downfall.
Carina sat down, feeling wretched and hollow. Not wanting company, she firmly pushed away Crabbe, who had been trying to stay by her side along with Theodore Nott.
Gray Goyle, who had paired with Blaise Zabini, came over and advised her that this was probably for the best—that it was better to end things now. Carina said nothing in reply.
Those who had grown accustomed to seeing Carina alone began to wonder about something else.
"Where is Harry Potter, anyway? Who did he end up with? He's been invisible lately."
"Hermione Granger, probably. She's the only girl he ever spends time with."
Carina found herself hoping it was Hermione Granger.
Because if it wasn't, she would feel too pathetic to bear.
The ball was well underway when it happened.
"Champions—enter!"
Professor McGonagall's voice rang out, and the doors opened for the Champions and their partners.
First came Cho Chang and Cedric Diggory, moving together with the ease of two people already comfortable with each other.
Next was Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies—though the contrast between them was stark. Fleur swept in with her brilliant golden hair streaming behind her, every inch the mistress of the room; Roger Davies walked beside her with his mouth hanging open, staring at her as though he couldn't quite determine whether he was awake.
And then the next pair.
A pretty girl with long brown hair swept to one side walked slowly up the aisle. She moved with the slight awkwardness of someone unaccustomed to a formal gown, but when she stumbled and laughed with a self-conscious smile, the dimples that appeared gave her a youthful, bright charm.
The room was thrown into confusion.
"Who is that?"
"Has she always been here?"
But Carina recognized her immediately.
Granger. Hermione Granger—hair smoothed with glossing potion, front teeth very slightly reduced, every flaw concealed and every asset on full display.
Well. Of course she'd look like that, given the effort.
This was precisely why Carina had always kept a wary eye on Hermione Granger. Looks hidden beneath obvious flaws were an asset that could be deployed at any moment. The gap between a person's everyday appearance and their best was what made them ten times more striking and mysterious. Fleur, Cho, Carina herself—all of them were beautiful enough. But none of them had produced quite the shock that Granger had just managed.
Granger had entered on the arm of one of the Champions.
That Champion was—Viktor Krum.
"Wait. Krum's mystery partner was Hermione?"
Even Goyle couldn't close her mouth. Carina, staring at Viktor Krum, could only blink.
When? How?
How had he even known Hermione Granger well enough to ask her? How had he noticed her before she'd done anything to herself—with those teeth, that hair?
Carina revised her assessment. Viktor Krum simply had terrible taste.
"Malfoy, what happened? Did Granger steal your partner?"
Goyle's eyes went wide.
She had believed Carina was meant to be Viktor Krum's partner, and now she fixed Hermione with a furious glare.
"I was trying to stay out of it for my own sanity, but this crosses a line! Just say the word. I'll make her pay—"
"You're right. I didn't expect Krum to get there first."
His arrival was so natural that Carina was a beat slow in registering it.
Harry Potter, hair pushed back from his face, was tugging at his tie as though it were strangling him as he approached. He was a Champion—and yet, somehow, he was alone. He had come without a partner.
Goyle looked between Harry and Carina, then screwed up her face and stood.
"Am I getting caught up in your drama again? Can you two please just be normal for once? You're not children—stop making everyone around you anxious."
Goyle's partner Blaise, unable to contain his curiosity, asked:
"What are you talking about, Goyle?"
"Forget it. Come on."
Goyle seized Blaise by the arm and disappeared into the crowd.
Finally alone, Harry let out a long breath.
"Sorry. Carina. Something came up and I was... a bit delayed."
He did look as though he'd come running from somewhere. His tie was barely knotted, and his trousers were his school uniform bottoms.
His natural build and height kept it from being too conspicuous, but there was plenty to criticize if one were inclined to look.
Harry gave a small, theatrical cough and adopted a tone of studied nonchalance.
"I naturally assumed Hermione would be my partner. But as it turns out—quite, quite coincidentally—Viktor Krum had apparently had his eye on her from the very beginning. Left me rather stranded, I'm afraid."
A lie. Harry Potter had known from the start that Viktor Krum was interested in Hermione, and had clearly made some arrangement with her. Sending Carina to Krum, and Krum's subsequent rejection of Carina—all of it had been part of the plan.
Harry looked at her and continued.
"You may or may not know this, but Hogwarts' Champion is..."
"Required to have a partner. A terribly old-fashioned rule."
"Quite. At this rate I'm in danger of neglecting my duties as Champion. You wouldn't happen to be without a partner yourself, would you?"
"Because of a certain someone."
"Ha. What a remarkable coincidence. Shall we two abandoned souls partner up?"
Harry extended his hand. Easily, naturally—with the absolute certainty that she would not push it away.
It was a rather clever plan.
Make them both appear to have been left behind, and let the world believe they'd simply turned to each other out of mutual necessity.
A transparent fiction—but there is a world of difference between having a convenient excuse and having none at all. The more one cares about appearances, the more entangled one is in politics, the more a plausible reason matters.
Yes. At the end of a rational, political plan—Harry had come to stand before her.
But Carina could not bring herself to take his hand.
"You... make me feel wretched."
Harry stilled. Carina stared at his outstretched hand and murmured.
"If you had told me beforehand. If you had let me know what you were thinking from the start—I wouldn't have had to hate you. Or myself."
"I'm sorry, I really was busy. So busy that—"
Carina took his hand. Harry's expression shifted toward relief—but only for a moment, because Carina pushed back his sleeve. She looked up at him with eyes that said she had already known what she would find.
There was a wound on Harry's arm—the kind left by something hot and lashing, like a whip of fire. Carina looked at it, then pulled his sleeve back down and turned her gaze on him.
"What is this?"
"Ah. Evidence of hard work?"
"Did you fight someone?"
"Yes. It was... rather intense. I let my guard down at the last moment and walked into a trap, and I couldn't move for a few days..."
Harry Potter had been doing something important, somewhere Carina couldn't see. Some mission, for the sake of everyone's lives and the peace of the world.
So. Because of that. That was why.
"That's it."
"What?"
"That's... why I feel so wretched."
Carina could not blame anyone.
He would never know what these past few days had been like for her.
She had gone to Karkaroff to partner with someone she barely knew—someone she didn't even particularly like. She had swallowed her pride and made the request herself.
That part, she could accept. She could do that much for Harry.
"But while I was doing that... you were fighting."
Being hurt somewhere she couldn't see. Finding out only after everything was over.
And then being left with no choice but to understand him.
Carina felt herself sinking—the way a patient sinks into their hospital bed, staring out a window at nothing.
"Wanting you to say even a word... wanting that much... I suppose that's my fault, for not thinking about what you're dealing with...?"
Being this miserable was childish self-pity. Blaming him was petty and small.
With no one to fault, Carina felt herself going under—like something sinking slowly through still water.
"I'm sorry... forget it. I was being immature."
Afraid that looking up would only make it worse, she kept her eyes on the floor. The waltz steps—one forward, one back, always moving away—seemed unbearably futile.
Harry realized, then, that he had been making a very large mistake all along.
Apologizing to Carina was deeply uncomfortable and difficult.
But receiving an apology from Carina was something far worse.
He understood now, only now, how meaningless apologies truly were.
Because even after Carina said sorry to him, he felt no better at all.
"I'm sorry, Carina. I was wrong—"
He stopped there.
He could not say sorry. His own chest was aching—and he could not hand that weight back to her.
Not if they were going to be the kind of couple who kept accumulating debts to each other, sustaining themselves on emotional ruin.
Harry didn't want that. He wanted them to always be able to hold their heads up—to smile without bitterness, even if they ever parted. Or, if Harry were to disappear someday, for Carina to be untouched by it.
Professor Moody wasn't here to stop him anyway.
Harry simply said it.
"I liked you from the very first moment I saw you. Carina. Whatever else you may be, your face is extraordinarily—adorable."
Harry dropped to one knee. The sound of it—*thud*—rang through the Great Hall.
The music seemed to pause. The dancers seemed to stop. The room stared at Harry, kneeling on the floor with Carina's hand in his, in collective astonishment.
Crabbe's expression asked what on earth had happened in the last thirty seconds. Goyle turned her head away as though she refused to witness it. Hermione Granger pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes bright and wide.
With every gaze in the room fixed on them, Harry spoke loudly enough for all to hear.
"Still beautiful. It really can only be you. Carina—will you be my partner?"
Destroying a carefully constructed plan felt extraordinarily satisfying.
It was, unmistakably, a genuine confession—and yet Carina couldn't find the words to answer. She turned her head away sharply.
Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, teachers, Slytherin students. Wizards from across Europe were watching.
For anyone who enjoyed spreading gossip, this was an opportunity that would never come again.
"Are you out of your mind? There are so many people here—!"
If this came out now, everything they had kept hidden would be exposed. Before any other feeling, Carina felt the acute discomfort of someone whose careful concealment was being dismantled in public.
She had worked so hard to keep this secret—and now he was laying it all bare?
Then Harry pressed his lips lightly to the back of her hand, through the silk of her glove.
"Ah—!"
"Don't look away, Carina."
"What do you think you're—!"
Carina tried to pull her hand back, but Harry held on. He looked up at her with an expression of perfect composure and complained mildly:
"You have to answer me. My knee is killing me."
"Then go to the hospital wing!"
"I can't do that. I'm a Champion. I have to lead the ball. And I need the most beautiful partner in the room."
The hall around them blurred and fell away. The people, the music, the decorations covering every wall—all of it became backdrop, drained of meaning.
The ballroom was a world of two. No one else mattered. Nothing else existed.
With all of Hogwarts as the scenery behind them, Carina faced Harry's confession. He looked up at her from one knee.
—In a scene that echoed something she had once glimpsed in the Mirror of Erised, long ago, and yet carried an entirely different meaning—Carina turned her face aside and said, very quietly:
"...I was always your partner. From the beginning."
"Good."
Harry drew her hand gently toward him and rose to his feet. His breath traveled up along her arm, paused at the scent of her hair, and then his arm came around her from behind.
Face to face, close enough to feel each other breathe, Harry smiled.
"Shall we dance?"
It felt as though a cheer rose up from somewhere outside.
The astonishment of strangers, the applause of friends, the voices of those who disapproved or worried—all of it blended into a single sound.
Of course, right now, it was nothing more than background noise. For the two of them, only each other's faces and breath made up the whole world.
Carina whispered.
"...As you... like."