Last year's Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Remus Lupin, had been a werewolf. Carina had discovered that fact—and had not kept it to herself.
It meant she was playing into Snape's hand, doing exactly what he'd wanted to drive Lupin out. But Carina agreed with Snape wholeheartedly.
A Hogwarts teacher who transformed into a savage beast once a month—who, if he failed to drink an extraordinarily expensive and difficult potion every single day for the week before the full moon, could roam the school and attack students?
Absolutely unacceptable.
No matter how many times she turned it over in her mind, it remained unacceptable. However gifted a teacher he might be, what if some terrible accident caused him to transform and attack someone?
A werewolf's attack was not a mere threat. It put lives at risk, and if someone were bitten, they would carry a cursed wound—one that no ordinary healing could ever undo, one that would overturn the entire course of a person's life.
What was more, Harry and Carina had been attacked once themselves. They'd been lucky not to be bitten, but that fact alone was enough for Carina to refuse to forgive Lupin.
"At least he had the decency to resign on his own."
When news of Professor Lupin's resignation reached them, Barnette Crabbe's reaction stood in sharp contrast to Carina's.
"What a shame, though. Professor Lupin wasn't bad-looking, and he actually taught well."
"What's shameful about it?"
Carina cut her off.
"Don't be absurd. A man who turns into a monster every full moon, teaching us? Absolutely not. Regardless of who he is or what kind of person he may be—if his werewolf state is dangerous, then he is dangerous! If he wants to keep teaching, let him do it while transformed!"
"W-well, he was still better than that stuttering Quirrell or that fraud Lockhart."
"That's Dumbledore's failure for hiring people like that in the first place! A Hogwarts professor ought to meet a basic standard of competence as a given—and beyond that, it's standard practice to appoint someone with a distinguished background or a reputable career!"
A normal teacher. A phrase both perfectly obvious and strangely unfamiliar. Carina fumed as she said it.
"I'll be watching whoever they bring in next for Defence Against the Dark Arts. Choosing a good teacher is a measure of the headmaster's ability. If this one also lacks the proper qualifications or credentials, I will file a formal complaint!"
Carina would come to regret those words.
"My name is Alastor Moody. Better known as Mad-Eye Moody... I've been appointed to teach you Defence Against the Dark Arts for the coming year."
The new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor Dumbledore had brought in possessed more than sufficient ability and credentials.
A legendary Auror who, in Voldemort's time, had reportedly filled half of Azkaban single-handedly. The man personally responsible for capturing countless Death Eaters through encyclopaedic knowledge of the Dark Arts and relentless pursuit.
"I don't know any of you—but I expect many of you know me. Some of your parents have stood before a tribunal on my account. If I'd only managed to find the right evidence back then... half of you wouldn't have been born. Both parents in Azkaban, you see."
Professor Moody swept his faded grey hair back to reveal a face ravaged by scars. His magical eye spun in its socket, fixing each student in turn with a piercing stare. Wherever that gaze landed, the Slytherin students flinched as though they'd been burned.
He had lost an eye and declared it an improvement, replacing it with a magical one. He had lost a leg to Dark Magic and still bought himself time by binding three opponents with a single binding spell. He was the Aurors' exemplar.
His deeds had passed into something like legend among Aurors—and into something like nightmare among Death Eaters.
"But a parent's crimes are not a child's... Right. I'll take the register."
An authority on Defence Against the Dark Arts. An Auror of unmatched achievement. Alastor Moody.
Carina acknowledged that he had both the ability and the credentials. But—
"Carina Malfoy... Ha. So you're Lucius Malfoy's daughter. He was extraordinarily skilled with the Imperius Curse... Of all those who abused the Unforgivable Curses as freely as he did, he's the only one who walked free."
Professor Moody twisted his scarred face into something that was not a friendly expression—it was a savage smile, the kind that betrayed unresolved feeling.
Carina found herself privately agreeing with Crabbe.
Perhaps having a werewolf for a professor would have been preferable to enduring Moody. At least a werewolf was safe for every day of the month except one.
"Right. Since we're on the subject, let's clear this up first. A wizard who uses Dark curses is subject to punishment under wizarding law. Which curses carry the harshest penalties? Does anyone know?"
As he spoke, Professor Moody's magical eye was fixed on Carina. As though to say: surely you already know.
And as he expected, Carina did.
"...The Imperius Curse."
"Naturally. I thought as much."
Professor Moody rose slowly, with difficulty, his leg dragging. He opened the desk drawer and produced a small glass jar. Inside, three large spiders scurried about.
He reached into the jar and drew out a black spider, then placed it on his palm where everyone could see. He raised his wand and murmured:
"*Imperio!*"
The spider leapt from his hand and began skittering across the desk in what looked unmistakably like a tap dance. The sight of a spider bouncing about on its own was absurd enough that the class burst into laughter.
One person did not laugh. Professor Moody's expression remained flat.
"Amusing, is it? Perhaps it would be, for you lot. But would you still find it funny if the Imperius Curse were directed at you?"
The laughter died at once. In the silence that followed, only Moody's voice carried.
"Total control. Total domination. Under this curse, you lose all will of your own and become a puppet that obeys commands. You could be made to jump from a window. Drowned. Or forced to commit murder on someone else's behalf—and made to bear every ounce of the blame..."
Professor Moody's eye was on Carina. She swallowed and arranged her face into composure.
"Many years ago, a great many people fell under this curse. The Ministry struggled to distinguish those who had been controlled from those who had acted freely, while trying to catch the caster. But his Imperius Curse was so refined it left almost no trace. A pity. If we'd had clearer evidence at the time, the Dementors would have given him their kiss..."
"Professor. That doesn't seem relevant to the lesson."
Carina couldn't hold her tongue. Crabbe and Goyle drew sharp, quiet breaths and glanced about nervously—but however frightening Moody might be, Carina could not simply sit there and listen to her father being discussed.
Professor Moody looked at her reaction and gave a slow, deliberate nod.
"...Fair enough. I was letting my feelings get the better of me. We'll continue. Does anyone know the next curse?"
This time, Goyle raised her hand. Moody acknowledged her.
"Goyle... I have a history with that name as well. Not as deep a one, but... yes. Miss Gray Goyle."
"The Cruciatus Curse."
Goyle said it carefully, watching for his reaction. Professor Moody's lips moved as though he wanted to say something, then he turned his head sharply away.
"The Cruciatus Curse... I'll need a larger spider for this one."
He took another spider from the jar, raised his wand, and said:
"*Engorgio!*"
The moment the incantation left his lips, the spider began to swell. Within seconds it had grown to the size of a small dog, shifting its legs uneasily on the desk. Crabbe shrieked and threw herself backwards.
Professor Moody levelled his wand again and shouted:
"*Crucio!*"
The spider's legs bent at terrible angles the instant the word fell. It rolled and convulsed violently, as though in unbearable agony.
Carina did not know what the spider felt, and had no wish to. But she could tell, simply by watching. How excruciating the pain was. How desperately it suffered.
Crabbe turned away, unable to look. Goyle flinched but kept watching. Carina kept watching too—but her expression grew increasingly strained.
Professor Moody lifted his wand. The spider's contorted legs straightened, but the convulsions continued, the echo of pain still running through it.
"The Cruciatus Curse is a torture curse. Extraordinarily painful. It can deliver agonising suffering without any other instrument... This curse was once used very freely as well. There are many ways to extract information from a person, but this is the cheapest and most convenient."
Professor Moody said it in a dry, matter-of-fact voice.
"Anyone know the last one?"
Everyone looked at each other. Then Pansy Parkinson's hand shot up.
"Which curse?"
"*Avada Kedavra*... it's..."
Pansy had apparently wanted to show off by naming the word everyone else was reluctant to say. But as her eyes met Professor Moody's, whatever courage had driven her seemed to drain away, and her voice shrank to almost nothing.
Professor Moody twisted his lips into a smile.
"Yes. The last curse. And the worst. Avada Kedavra—the Killing Curse!"
Professor Moody reached into the jar, but the third spider seemed to know what was coming—it fled his fingers in a frenzy, scrambling to every corner of the glass. He caught it in one motion and set it on the desk.
In that moment, everyone knew what was about to happen. Professor Moody raised his wand and spoke the incantation.
"*Avada Kedavra!*"
A flash of green light. And then, immediately after, a dreadful sensation—as though something had been extinguished. Like a flame going out, the spell had taken something that had existed here a moment ago.
The spider's body dropped. Not a mark on it. Its posture was almost peaceful, as though it had simply fallen asleep. But it was dead.
"The Killing Curse. Cast it with a powerful enough will to kill, and it fires—and if it strikes you, you die. There is no blocking it. No surviving it."
Crabbe let out a whimper, rigid with fear. Several girls began to cry. Carina showed nothing, but every muscle in her body had gone taut.
"Only one person is known to have survived this curse. Left with nothing but a scar on their face."
Carina knew exactly who Professor Moody was referring to.
Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived.
That title carried two meanings. The boy who survived Voldemort. And the boy who survived the Killing Curse.
The fact that merely surviving the spell was enough to make a name known throughout the wizarding world spoke to how merciless this curse truly was.
"These three curses are known as the Unforgivable Curses. Use any one of them on a human being and you face a life sentence in Azkaban. These are the things you will have to face... Some of you may be tempted to use them yourselves—but I want you, at the very least, to understand the weight of these curses. They are not toys. They are not to be wielded carelessly!"
The reason the Unforgivable Curses are unforgivable is not simply that they are powerful spells.
To cast an Unforgivable Curse, one must also possess a powerful will.
To cast the Cruciatus Curse, one must harbour a genuine desire to cause suffering. To cast the Imperius Curse, one must possess a genuine desire to dominate. And the Killing Curse—
To cast Avada Kedavra, one must carry a ferocious intent to kill. The wand becomes the most effective instrument for channelling that murderous will.
"Do not be seduced by these curses. This is not power. It is nothing more than filthy emotion channelled through a wand. If you ever witness someone casting one—reporting it to the Ministry is the only way to lessen your own culpability."
Professor Moody's eye turned to Carina. It felt like an interrogation.
Carina thought of this past summer. The Quidditch World Cup final. Her father coming home unusually late that night.
Had her father used the Imperius Curse that summer? Was Moody pressing her because he had detected some trace of it?
She couldn't know. But even if her father had used it, Carina would not report him.
"If you ever feel the urge to cast these spells, remember my warning... Dismissed!"
When Professor Moody released the students, they fled the classroom as though escaping something. The moment they crossed the threshold, the noise broke like a dam—everyone talking at once, voices tumbling over each other.
A strange, almost transgressive excitement had taken hold of them, like children breaking a rule for the first time. Everyone spoke of the curses they had just witnessed, voices full of shock and fascination.
But Carina could not be still. Anxiety coiled through her. She fidgeted with her wand without purpose, then picked up her bag and turned back toward the classroom.
"Malfoy? Where are you going?"
"I have something to say to Professor Moody. I'll be right out."
"Oh? To Moody? Should I come with you?"
"No. There's no need. I'll handle it myself."
Carina sent Crabbe and Goyle ahead and slipped back into the classroom. Professor Moody was gathering his things, his gaze directed at the cabinet—but his magical eye tracked Carina with perfect precision regardless.
He spoke without turning his head.
"What is it, Miss Malfoy? Have you come to report your father for using an Unforgivable Curse?"
"I have not!"
Carina expressed her displeasure in a tone that stopped just short of outright rudeness.
"And please do not bring up my father during lessons. The Malfoy family is not your teaching material."
"No? I was under the impression that Snape enjoys bringing up other people's family histories mid-lesson, so I assumed you were all accustomed to it."
Carina found herself, for the first time, truly understanding why students from other houses despised Snape as much as they did. A professor one disliked was, from a student's perspective, something worse than an enemy.
She took a quiet breath and said:
"That's beside the point. What I actually want to ask about is the Triwizard Tournament—specifically, Harry Potter being selected as Champion."
Carina chose her words carefully as she spoke.
Harry Potter wanted their relationship to remain a secret. Carina understood that, at least in part.
Someone inside Hogwarts was targeting Harry. If that person discovered that Carina and Harry were together, they would begin watching her. For now, keeping it secret was the better strategy for finding whoever it was.
...Whatever her heart might want.
Her heart wanted to show it off. Wanted to announce to the entire world that she and Harry were together. But Carina pressed that feeling down.
So she constructed a cover. She would appear to be acting not out of concern for Harry Potter, but out of opposition to him.
"As a Slytherin, I cannot simply stand by while Harry Potter participates in the Triwizard Tournament under fraudulent circumstances. I believe there has been a serious irregularity here—possibly involving Dark Magic. Shouldn't 'Mad-Eye Moody,' who despises Dark Magic so fervently, be stepping in to put a stop to this?"
It was a reasonably well-constructed excuse for something improvised on the spot. Satisfied with herself, Carina lifted her chin and waited for Professor Moody's response.
What she received was beyond anything she had anticipated.
"So you heard all about it during your little rendezvous with Potter. Worried about your boyfriend, are you?"
Carina froze, chin still raised. Professor Moody smiled with evident amusement.
"Potter has a rather fine cloak—but I happen to have a rather fine piece of equipment myself... which has led me to discover some rather interesting things."
The magical eye bored into hers as though it had already seen through every lie she'd told.
That eye, it seemed, could see through walls, through the back of one's head—and through Harry Potter's Invisibility Cloak.
"The daughter of his most ardent supporter, and the boy who survived after losing his parents to that same man. Remarkable. I don't know the circumstances, but it's not an easy thing to believe... Your instinct to keep it secret is sound. A romantic attachment is one of the finest pieces of leverage a Dark wizard could ask for. Continue conducting yourselves accordingly."
Professor Moody offered Carina an unexpected compliment. Having just endured insults about her father, Carina was still wearing a bewildered expression when Moody spoke with sudden finality:
"And I'll say the same for myself. We have our own plans. But I will not be sharing them with you, Malfoy."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You are Lucius Malfoy's daughter. With He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's threat looming over us, we must limit what information passes even between our own people. I cannot disclose our plans to an outsider."
Carina felt something she had felt once before, in the Shrieking Shack. The wall Harry had erected to push her away. The helplessness of standing before a barrier she could not cross without permission from the other side.
But this was different from that time. Harry had kept her out because he was worried about her. Moody was keeping her out because he suspected her.
And that was an enormous difference.
"Lucius Malfoy is a master of the Imperius Curse. So masterful, in fact, that those he'd placed under it were nearly impossible to identify—and the victims themselves couldn't be certain who had cast it on them. That's why we couldn't find testimony or evidence, and had no choice but to release him. Because of Lucius Malfoy, we were forced to develop what we now call the Imperius Test—a means of verifying whether any of us might be under the Imperius Curse at any given time..."
Hearing one's father discussed in such terms by a stranger was not a pleasant experience. Carina found herself understanding, with new clarity, the hostility Harry directed at Professor Snape.
Professor Moody spoke of her father's crimes in front of her with complete composure.
"If there is one thing I despise above all else, it is the Death Eaters I managed to capture but could not put in Azkaban. They commit their crimes and then walk about as though it were all a momentary lapse... They are the sort who would abandon their own master and comrades without hesitation if it served their purposes, and feel not a shred of shame."
He was speaking in circumlocutions, but the target was clear: Lucius Malfoy, Carina's father.
It might be true. Her father might have used the Imperius Curse to control people. Carina was only fourteen; she had no knowledge of what had happened in those years.
But he was her father. She had no choice but to defend him and stand at his side.
If there was no trace, no identifiable victim, and he could not be imprisoned for it—then the matter was closed. That was the end of it.
Carina bit her lip and said:
"...Please do not speak about my father. It has no bearing on the matter at hand."
"On the contrary—it has every bearing!"
Professor Moody raised his voice. His magical eye spun with agitated speed.
"I suspect you as well. How did you come to be so close to Potter, of all people—someone who might as well be your family's enemy? Were you acting on Lucius's orders? Or did Lucius cast the Imperius Curse on you? Approach Potter and extract information from him?"
She had known he suffered from paranoid tendencies even after his retirement. She knew he was cantankerous, spoke without restraint, and pushed every boundary.
But there were limits even to that.
To dare—to dare to question Carina's feelings, to suggest that her father had cast the Imperius Curse on his own daughter—that kind of slander could not be left unanswered.
Carina's hands trembled as she cried out:
"P-Professor—I don't care who you are, I will not tolerate that kind of outrageous statement. Take it back. Now."
"You're the one who underestimates us. The enemies we fight commit acts like this as a matter of course. We cannot afford to miss even the smallest detail—we must be vigilant at every turn! A degree of suspicion like this is entirely warranted!"
Professor Moody snapped those words at her, then walked past her as though the conversation were finished. The uneven rhythm of his dragging footstep echoed unevenly.
Having suffered an insult she would not soon forget, Carina could not restrain herself. She drew her wand and levelled it at Professor Moody's back.
"You—!"
She hadn't intended to attack him. She only meant to show him how furious she was.
But Carina should have understood that "never point your wand at Moody's back" was meant in the most literal sense possible.
The instant she drew her wand, Professor Moody spun around with startling speed. He already had his own wand out, aimed through his robes.
Before she could react, the spell struck her. Carina dropped her wand and fell.
"Never point your wand at someone's back! That is the act of a coward—the lowest of the low!"
She hadn't fallen. Carina's field of vision was dropping further... as though she were pressed flat against the floor...
When she realised what had happened, Carina was a ferret. Professor Moody had used Transfiguration to turn her into a white ferret.
Professor Moody tapped his wand against his palm and said:
"If you want a duel, issue a proper challenge first. I'll accept it gladly. But if you attack from behind like a cowardly ambusher, I will make you regret it. Is that understood?"
Naturally, Carina—now a ferret—could not answer. No one had ever cast a spell directly on her before. Let alone Transfiguration.
Carina trembled, utterly thrown by the unprecedented situation.
It was then that Harry Potter opened the door and walked in.
"Professor Moody?"
At the sound of his voice, Carina bolted toward him on instinct. It was only a moment later that she remembered she was a ferret.
What if Harry didn't recognise her and kicked her? Those large feet would hurt terribly.
Carina reached Harry's feet and felt a sudden lurch of fear. But Harry reached down as naturally as if he'd known it was her all along, and scooped the ferret up into his arms.
Professor Moody's face creased with displeasure.
"How did you know to come?"
"I knew Carina was with you and thought something might be going on."
Harry held the ferret in one hand and shrugged.
"Turns out something was."
"She did the one thing I hate most."
"She pointed her wand at your back, I take it. Even so, wasn't Transfiguration a bit much?"
"Compared to most Dark Magic, Transfiguration is positively gentle. It won't last an hour."
Professor Moody said it as though Harry's objection were an inconvenience.
"A word of advice, Potter. Be careful. A wizard with too much to lose is not one to be trusted. The more they stand to lose, the more easily they're swayed by circumstance. They may drive a knife into your back to protect their own interests."
"If Carina's the one making holes in me, I can handle two."
Harry replied without particular concern, tucked the ferret against his chest, and headed for the door. The ferret glared at Professor Moody—but when the magical eye fixed on her in return, she flinched and burrowed deeper into Harry's arms.
"Oh, right. Professor Dumbledore says not to investigate Snape. He says there are far more dangerous and urgent matters elsewhere."
"The things that make you lower your guard are precisely the things that are truly dangerous and urgent! I'll take the circumstances into account—but I have no intention whatsoever of changing my methods!"
"Fair enough. Honestly, I was hoping you'd tear into Snape anyway. He could stand to be in a bit more trouble. I'll leave it in your capable hands, then."
Harry smiled with the contentment of someone who had everything he needed and walked out of the classroom. He held the ferret by slipping his hands under her forelegs.
Squeak—!
"Oh—Carina. Careful. You'll fall."
The ferret squirmed and thrashed. Even at the risk of dropping, she refused the grip. Harry hastily set her down. The ferret stared up at him with profound displeasure.
Only then did Harry realise that his fingers had been positioned somewhere that corresponded to her chest. He snickered and gathered the ferret back into his arms.
"What a shame. First time I've ever touched a chest, and it had to be when she was a ferret."
Squeak!
"Ha ha. All right. Sorry."
Harry adjusted his hold, supporting the ferret from beneath with just his arms, cradling her from below. Being carried at all was slightly mortifying, but in ferret form it was the best available option. Carina let herself be carried through the corridor in Harry's arms.
Harry made no effort to hide his satisfaction. He held her as steadily as he could, not shifting her position unnecessarily—but every so often he would stroke her cheek with a finger, or bow his head to press his nose into her fur.
Each time, the ferret-Carina voiced her objection with a small squeak—but even those grew quieter as time passed.
Whether it was the ferret's nature, or whether her own resistance was simply fading, Harry didn't particularly care either way.
"You're just as adorable like this."
...Squeak.
"You're embarrassed in exactly the same way, too. Who would ever think this was a ferret? No matter how I look at it, this is Carina Malfoy."
Perhaps because she was a ferret, Harry expressed himself without any of his usual restraint. Carina's mind remained entirely human even as her body did not, and the embarrassment was enough to keep her from lifting her head. She wanted to escape, but in a ferret's body even that was impossible.
Harry found a suitable tree and settled against it, leaning back. Carina dropped to the ground. She circled the area twice, glancing about with careful nonchalance, then made her way back to Harry Potter's side. She curled up on the hem of his cloak.
Harry ran his fingers idly through Carina's fur. She squeaked in protest a few times—then, eventually, accepted it.
"I'd love to take you back to the dormitory."
Squee—ak.
A deeply displeased sound. Harry was laughing quietly to himself when—
"Relaxed, are you, Potter? Shouldn't Hogwarts's Champion be putting in more effort?"
A group of Hufflepuffs approached. Each of them wore a badge on their chest that read: POTTER STINKS!
Zacharias Smith looked at Potter and sneered.
"No need to worry about Potter. He's the Boy Who Lived, after all. I'm sure someone will come along to rescue him in the Triwizard Tournament too."
Harry barely seemed to register the words. The one who took offence was Carina.
The Hufflepuff students who had never dared meet her eyes were now strutting about with insufferable confidence. It was entirely disagreeable. Carina was about to step forward and deliver a sharp retort—
Squee——ak!
But when Carina rose up, her line of sight did not rise with her. She was still a ferret.
Zacharias Smith looked down at the ferret.
"Is that your pet, Potter? How charming. You could bring it along to the Tournament."
"Quit while you're ahead, Smith, before I turn your head into a firework."
Harry's expression darkened as he got to his feet. He was alone; Zacharias Smith had a group behind him. Harry didn't look remotely intimidated.
"Are you afraid Cedric will lose to me? Or did Cedric put you up to this? Go bother Harry Potter while he's alone?"
"What are you on about!"
"Or you could just walk away. What you're doing is dragging Cedric's name through the mud. Hufflepuff's supposed to be known for hard work—don't throw away one of your few redeeming qualities."
The Hufflepuff students seemed to find Harry's composure itself offensive, and were moving to do something about it. If the Gryffindors hadn't appeared from the other direction, there would certainly have been a confrontation.
"Harry!"
But with Hermione and Ron approaching, the Hufflepuffs clicked their tongues and retreated. Hermione came forward and asked:
"What are you doing out here?"
"Enjoying some quality time to myself."
"Sorry?"
Hermione's gaze dropped. At her feet, a white ferret stood with an air of cool, imperious dignity. Hermione crouched down to examine it.
"What a lovely ferret! Where did it come from?"
"It found its way to me, as if by chance."
"I see. Sometimes a small animal is exactly what you need to find a bit of peace of mind."
Hermione reached out a hand, but the ferret turned sharply away and moved to Harry's side. Hermione's outstretched hand was left with nothing but its own awkwardness.
She stood up, brushing her knees off with unnecessary briskness.
"Harry. People aren't looking at you kindly. They won't do anything immediately, but try to stay with your friends as much as possible."
"I'd like that too."
The direction Harry indicated held Ron Weasley, walking alone. He had arrived with Hermione but hadn't acknowledged Harry at all—the reason was obvious enough.
Ron was jealous of Harry. Clearly he resented Harry for entering the Triwizard Tournament alone and drawing everyone's attention.
Even in ferret form, Carina let out a small huff of disdain. To be consumed by something as petty as jealousy and abandon a friend—this was precisely why one ought to avoid associating with families of that sort. A small vessel has a narrow margin for 'enough.' It overflows easily, runs dry easily, and is endlessly difficult to manage.
"Hermione, I'm fine—go after Ron."
Harry said it as he gathered the ferret into his arms.
"I have my emotional support ferret right here."
He said it with a straight face, then brought his nose to the ferret's nose. The unguarded affection in the gesture seemed to reassure Hermione considerably.
"All right. Let me know if you need anything."
"I will."
Hermione headed in the direction Ron had gone. Ron, for all the walking he'd done, hadn't gotten particularly far.
Harry settled back against the tree and set the ferret down.
"Sorry. Not the campus date I had in mind for our first one."
Squeak.
Carina said it—and then climbed up Harry's robes to reach him. She positioned herself close to his face and stared at him, as though demanding something.
Harry smiled faintly.
"You're telling me to cheer up. Thank you. Can I have a kiss?"
Carina understood the words a beat too late and squeaked loudly. That was a refusal. Or perhaps it was a complaint—not like this, not in this form.
"I think a ferret's kiss would give me strength."
Harry pressed the request again, and Carina considered it deeply. Kissing him in ferret form felt somehow permissible, since it wasn't quite her own body—and yet, precisely because it wasn't her own body, it also felt somehow not permissible.
Carina shot Harry a sidelong look, circled on his chest once, twice—then, with the air of someone who had made a decision, stretched her nose forward and closed her eyes.
Harry drew the ferret gently close and pressed his lips to her.
It was a thin but wide kiss. The kind that seemed to nuzzle the whole of her face at once.
The two of them spent the time until nearly the full hour had passed, touching each other in small, unhurried ways.