Author's Notes: Thank you, all reviewers! I'm glad you like this. I love writing for Caroline – she reminds me unpleasantly of myself at times. Chapter 4 is planned and being written. I hope to keep the delays between chapters much shorter.


The Choices We Make

My sixth year was going to be a bad one, I could tell. Assigned to work with Granger in Potions, and already I'd pissed off Malfoy. I usually had the sense to wait at least a few weeks before I alienated possibly the most dangerous boy in Slytherin. But no, pigheaded, foolish, and rash, I'd chosen battles unwisely – defending people who hated me, inviting the wrath of those who barely tolerated me.

Monday evening, therefore, was hell. Classes had been tough, and I had a pounding headache. I'd been late to dinner, and so had had to sit next to Daphne Greengrass, who blathered on and on about how she'd been seeing a pureblood boy from Belgium and wasn't it exciting and what did you do over the summer, Caroline?

That had always annoyed me about Slytherin girls – Slytherins like to climb in power, and we'll do it by any means necessary. But a lot of the girls thought that they should just ride on the shirt tails of their boyfriends or husbands, rather than doing the work themselves. Stupid, suck-up, male-crazy –

I finished my shepherd's pie quickly, and headed down to the common room.

Essay for Potions on the possible effects on most sleeping draughts if stirred incorrectly. Essay for Transfiguration on the mechanics of animal transfiguration, with a detailed explanation of why it is easier to change inanimate objects into animals than it is to change animals into animals or humans into animals. Chart for Ancient Runes on the differences in meaning when runes are surrounded by start and stop signals.

I had my books out and was bent over them when most of my house came streaming in. I scared off a bunch of first years who had not yet learned which table was MY table (corner table farthest from the fire underneath the second torch) in the evenings, and generally ignored everyone.

I was halfway done with my Potions essay when Malfoy came over and continued the fight I'd started. Or had he started it the evening before? In any case, he was in a poor mood, and he was looking to vent his spleen on me.

I didn't want a fight. Really, really didn't want one. I had homework to do, and I never liked causing scenes – but that was exactly what Malfoy wanted.

He grabbed my Potions text, flipping through it with a nasty smirk on his face. "What, Mandler, not hanging around with your little Gryffindor friends? Not chumming around with your swotty little mudblood friend down in the library?" He said it loudly, trying to attract attention, and he did. Pansy Parkinson and her friends all turned around to watch me, Regina Avery's mouth hanging open. She had a bit of salad stuck to her teeth, though given her immense weight I was surprised she didn't stick to an all-pudding diet.

Nott, too, was watching warily.

"Give me my book back, Malfoy," I said. I wanted to scream at him, but I still thought I could get out of the mess without causing too much of a disturbance.

"No, I won't, Mandler, not until you tell me, until you tell all of your housemates, why you're running around with Gryffindors!"

That got attention. People started whispering, a malicious glint in the eyes of my less friendly acquaintances as they spread the story of what had happened at Potions today. The unfairness of it stung me, and I got to my feet, knocking over the inkwell all over my Potions essay. Swearing, I vanished the mess, and looked up at Malfoy just as he shoved me.

That was too far.

"Fuck off, Malfoy!" I said. "Don't you have anything better to do, like bullying some first years? They're more your size, aren't they?"

He sneered at me. "And Gryffindor bloodtraitors are your type, are they? At least some of us maintained proper wizarding pride!"

"I told you to fuck off. I have no more fondness for Gryffindors than I have for you, and if you don't get out of my face I'll hex you into next Thursday!"

Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles and looked menacing. "Oh, I'm so impressed," I said. "You're going to send your little goons after me, are you? All you are, Malfoy, is a strutting little peacock who thinks his father gives him the right to treat everyone like house elves. I'd like to see you take me on yourself, rather than sending those two imbeciles after me!"

I was losing it. Rage was pouring up over me, and I was losing my discretion; nobody with any brains dragged the older Malfoy into arguments with Draco. One does not invoke a member of the Dark Lord's inner circle lightly.

"I don't need to take you on, Mandler. I just need everyone to know what you are. No true Slytherin would associate with the likes of you!" Draco Malfoy looked around the common room, making sure that everyone had heard this proclamation.

He was trying to ostracize me.

"Can't you even fight your own battles, Malfoy? Are you too scared to actually use your wand rather than your goons? Don't you have the balls? Oh, no, wait, just remembered – your father's are on permanent loan. Now either fuck off or fight your own bloody battles."

My wand was out now. I held the familiar mahogany rod in my hands, feeling the power in it, just itching to curse Malfoy into oblivion. I could do it. I was sure of it – we hadn't fought in years, true, but that was because of what I'd done to him in third year…

Malfoy was angry, but he was in control of himself, unlike me. "Fine, Mandler. I'll fight my own battles. You forget – having two Malfoys doesn't mean that one is dependent on the other. It means that the two together are a more formidable force than anything you've ever seen."

"You're challenging me to a duel?"

But then someone was tugging at my arm, and I turned angrily to face him. It was Theodore Nott, and he looked miserable. "Caroline, come away. I know you're no blood traitor, but I don't want to see your brains splattered all over the floor."

Wrong thing to say to me. "What, you think I can't handle this pompous, arrogant little –"

Malfoy cut in before I could finish insulting him. "Whose side are you on, Nott? Your father's a good man, but I won't stand for his son allying himself against true Slytherins with bloodtraitors and filth."

And Theodore Nott, the only Slytherin who I'd counted on not to follow Malfoy, dropped his gaze and backed away. I was standing alone, full of empty threats, against the son of a powerful Death Eater and the stern disapproval of my house.

I'd fucked up.

But when you've messed everything up, when there's nothing left to lose, you don't give up. My father was always adamant on this – he'd been an Auror once, and he railed against those who gave up, those who abandoned their principles, those who turned tail and fled once it was clear that they would surely lose – he hated them. Of course, my father's principles were directly in line with Draco Malfoy's, and he would no doubt disapprove of what I was doing right now…

"I challenge you to a wizard's duel, Malfoy. Here and now, in front of my house – MY house – which I am as true a member of as ever I have been. Let this house judge which of us is weaker and which stronger. Or haven't you the guts?"

Malfoy waved his two lackeys away, and let me step out from behind the table I'd been standing at. I strode forward, a weird clarity coming over me. I'd succumbed to rage; but I could push it away – and I needed lucidity in a duel like this.

Everyone was watching now. People drew tables and chairs out of the way, so that there was a wide, clear space for Malfoy and me. Spectators formed a ring around us, and Malfoy shrugged off his expensive black robes, handing them to Zabini, his little follower.

I bowed deeply to Malfoy. He bowed to me.

As soon as he had straightened up, I threw my first spell. I wasn't thinking to cause any real injury, just to humiliate and temporarily incapacitate him. "Tarantallegra!"

Malfoy blocked it easily, and people dove out of the way as it bounced off of his shield charm. Nobody ever said that dueling was a safe spectator sport.

I was halfway through incanting a jelly-legs jinx when Malfoy changed the nature of the duel. "Reducto!" he bellowed, and I was forced to dive out of the way as a horribly powerful curse sailed over me.

I got to my feet, but was forced to cast a hasty Protego as he threw another Reductor curse at me. They weren't playful spells; he was aiming to really hurt me.

He was trying to prove to Slytherin his undisputed leadership, and that he meant business – nobody would cross Draco Malfoy in the future.

Distracted by these worrying thoughts, I barely dodged another Reductor curse, and this one grazed me. I was thrown backwards a short ways, and the crowd shoved me back into the circle. I was off-balance and on the defensive: in short, I was damned near close to losing. I had underestimated Draco Malfoy, which was criminal. I should have known – I thought besting him in some early duels when we were still children meant that I could still best him now, when he was the son of one of the Dark Lord's most powerful Death Eaters, when he had a natural taste for cruelty and dark spells…

But I'd come in close to excelling in the Defense Against the Dark Arts exams, and I'd been trained by my father; I wasn't defeated yet.

"Silencio!" I screamed, a moment after Malfoy sent a body-bind curse after me. I dodged it, but Malfoy wasn't so lucky; I'd cut off his voice.

Malfoy fought like a Slytherin, though. He dodged my next hex, a jelly-legs jinx, and managed to get Zabini to lift the silencing spell. Fighting dirty, but he, unlike me, could count on support from the crowd. Use every resource you've got, as my father used to say.

I wanted to win quickly, and I was scared of what a long duel might mean, so I sent a stunning spell after Malfoy. The bastard blocked it again with Protego, but the shield rippled visibly – if I could just get inside his defenses quickly enough…

I tried, twice, to hit him again with the Stupefy, and each time he blocked it, each time it ricocheted off of his shield charm towards the crowd. They always dodged it, but some of the younger students had left the common room to the dormitories, in fear of becoming injured. I was steeling myself up for another stunner – they're nasty spells, drain your energy terribly – when Malfoy, who'd been cautiously deflecting my stunners, sent a truly vicious curse my way.

"Caedeo!" he yelled, slicing his wand through the air viciously, a sickly yellow beam of light flying towards me. My shield charm could not block the spell entirely. My body should have been covered with slash marks, but the shield charm reduced them to mere scratches – not that there's anything mere about being covered, head to toe, in long, painful red welts.

I staggered in pain, nearly falling backwards into some of the Slytherins. There was an electric tension to the common room, now – the Slytherins had scented weakness, and like wolves they gathered near me, waiting for me to fall.

I didn't. I was in pain, but my head was still clear, and now I had a plan. I'd seen how close Malfoy's other spells had come to hitting the crowd, and I really didn't give a shit any more about the "innocent" bystanders.

Dodging another Caedeo from Malfoy, I feinted to the left, moving towards a bloc of his supporters, firing off another stunner. He returned fire with a Stupefy of his own, but I didn't try to reflect it at him. Instead, I rolled, and the spell flew right at Zabini. The boy slumped, and angry mutters ran around the crowd – 'Mandler saw Malfoy getting aid, so she strikes back at his helper'. Malfoy looked upset for a moment, and that was what I'd been waiting for.

"Stupefy!" I screamed, throwing all my energy into it.

Malfoy had no time to block it. There was no way he could turn and deflect the spell in time.

The red beam of light never hit him, however. A furious Snape stood in the doorway, his robes billowing around him, and he had his wand out, blocking the charm.

"Mandler! Malfoy! To my office, now. What is thi –"

And then he saw Zabini slumped against the wall, looking pale and wan from the effects of my spell. I don't think I have ever seen Snape look more livid.

"You two! Go! My office. Wait there while I tend to Zabini. If you do a thing until I return for you I shall personally disembowel you with the entrail-expelling curse!"

I picked myself up from the floor, gasping heavily, my body on fire from the cuts, and staggered out of the common room as Snape bent over Zabini. I strode angrily towards the office, knowing Malfoy was right behind me. My instincts told me to turn, to make sure he wasn't about to curse me again, but Malfoy wouldn't be fool enough to cross Snape. Rumor had it our darling Potions Master was nearly as dangerous a Death Eater as Mr. Malfoy.

Snape's office is a singularly unpleasant place. I've served my fair share of detentions in there, and I've been reprimanded like the rest of them for being out past curfew, or for getting involved in a hallway brawl. I had never, however, been caught dueling.

Come to think of it, I should have known we would have been caught. I had lost my head. But Malfoy! Malfoy must have known – he provoked the fight, and he had kept his head clear throughout. So why…?

We sat, stiff, at opposite ends of the office, not looking at each other.

"You're dead, Mandler," Malfoy hissed.

"I'd have had you if Snape had waited a second longer," I retorted, still keeping my eyes fixed at a point directly ahead of me.

"You're the one with cuts up and down your body," he said smoothly.

"You lost concentration. They saw that – you paid more attention to Zabini than to your opponent. Stupid!"

"The house will hate you now," Malfoy said. "I worked with the Slytherins, you attacked them. You're a miserable strategist, you know."

"You forced the fight, and I nearly won. They'll see that not everybody has to be intimidated by you."

"You'll be expelled for attacking Zabini. I can get all of Slytherin house to testify that you provoked the fight, that you forced a duel. I, however, will come out of this relatively unscathed. I will have rid Slytherin of a disloyal bloodtraitor."

I said nothing to this, just stared silently at Snape's pickled frog hearts, wishing that I could cut out Malfoy's heart and shove it in brine, too.