A/N: Hi, Hi, first of all, so sorry I didn't update on time. I had a very rough month, you could, say (and an additional COVID scare lol – I'm okay, but I was really anxious for a solid week thinking I had gotten exposed).

I also wanted to let you all know I uploaded The Allure of Darkness and The Sealed Kingdom to Wattpad, if you would prefer to read it on there! (But also, please review on here, I would really appreciate it!)

Please review! I love reading your reviews whenever I'm down, and it genuinely really motivates me to update faster! Even if it's a quick "good job" I really appreciate hearing your thoughts!

P.S: Next update is already half written so expect it by next week : )

I hope you enjoy the chapter!

The Greengrass Estate [January 1st]

Astoria Greengrass picked up a blueberry scone as she settled into her chair at breakfast, ignoring the disapproving look she received from her mother in turn. She smiled widely at the other woman, purposefully licking the remnants of icing sugar off her fingers before letting her gaze fall over the empty seat across the table.

"Where's Daphne?" Her eyes narrowed, "She was supposed to take me to Diagon Alley for new robes before we left for the train. If she doesn't show up before breakfast is over, I'll have to go without her."

"Sweetheart, don't you have enough robes?" Her father spoke up, barely glancing up from his newspaper. "With all the unrest lately, I'm not sure if it would be safe for you to go to Diagon Alley alone."

"Speaking of unrest," Hadrian Riddle raised an eyebrow over his own newspaper, "Have you seen the Daily Prophet? Tiberius Ogden has announced he's stepping down from the Wizengamot."

"Has he really?" Cyrus Greengrass blinked in surprise, "That is rather… unexpected. I was of the opinion that Ogden's corpse would preside over the Wizgamont before he ever willingly resigned from his position."

Hadrian shook his head with a quiet laugh, "Well, it says right here: he's decided to step down from the Wizengamot in protest of the massacre at Azkaban. He claims it was 'disgusting behavior' from the Ministry and he completely dragged the Minister's good name through the mud in the papers."

"Fudge's 'good name' is quite an oxymoron," Cyrus smirked, taking a sip of his tea. "It's a pity they–"

"Father," Astoria groaned, cutting off what was sure to be a terribly boring rant about politics. "I need to browse the new collection at Madam Malkin's before that cow Evanna Rosier can get her grubby little hands all over them!"

"Astoria, please don't interrupt your father," Her mother warned, "You'll just have to purchase the robes when they become available in the catalogue next month, or you can wait for your sister to wake up."

"She seemed exhausted last night," Astoria commented lightly as she took a bite of her pastry. "Perhaps Hadrian can escort me to Diagon Alley instead, then."

Hadrian frowned, "Oh, I unfortunately have to see to–"

"You know, it's rather odd," Astoria hummed innocently, halting any excuse he was about to bring forth. "I thought that all those hours of dancing and socializing at the party last night would tire her out completely. I was expecting her to fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow."

"Did your sister not sleep well?" Portia knitted her brows together in concern.

"It's so nice that our rooms share a wall, you know," Astoria announced earnestly, watching closely as her sister's boyfriend flinched in his seat. She pretended to sigh, "I could hear her tossing and turning all night."

"Do you think I should call for a mediwitch before you all leave for the train?" Portia fretted.

"Oh, I think she'll be alright," Astoria shrugged. "Thought I sure hope it was just this one night. The last thing I'd want is for her to lose sleep. She seemed quite…" Her lips twitched upwards into a ghost of a smile, "…restless."

Hadrian nearly choked on his orange juice at her words. "On second thought," He neatly folded his newspaper and set it back onto the table with a tight smile, "I suppose I could find some time to escort you to Diagon Alley this morning."

"Really, Hadrian?" The younger girl batted her lashes, hiding her triumphant grin as she pushed her chair back from the table excitedly. "I thought you said you were busy."

"I'll move some things around," He gritted out, reluctantly dropping his uneaten toast back onto his plate and rising up from his seat.

"Be careful, you two," Portia called out to their retreating figures as they exited the room. She shook her head and pressed her fingertips to her temples, "That girl will be the death of us, Cyrus."

When she received no response from her husband, she stiffened and turned to look at him at the other end of the table. "Cyrus?" She questioned hesitantly as her husband continued to stare at the paper in front of him with wide eyes. "What's happened?"

Her voice seemed to startle him out of his shock, and he blinked slowly before meeting her eyes. Portia took a sip of her tea and gestured to the morning paper, "Is everything alright, dear?"

Cyrus Greengrass cleared his throat, "I apologize, darling. It seems as though the times are changing far more quickly than either of us anticipated."

"What do you mean?"

"Since Ogden is stepping down from his position in the Wizengamot, someone else must fill the vacancy before the Ministry is able to start any other trials," Cyrus explained, "Usually when a member of the Wizengamot resigns, they nominate someone else for the position."

"Yes, of course," Portia nodded, "Who is it Tiberius Ogden has nominated, then?"

"It's quite peculiar. Out of all the popular wizards at the Ministry and the handful of noble lords he could have chosen from–," Cyrus Greengrass paused, furrowing his brows in confusion, "It seems as though Mr. Ogden has chosen to nominate Narcissa Malfoy for the job."

Meanwhile, underneath the perfectly manicured lawns and picture-esque layer of powdery snow that dusted over the Greengrass Estates, Daphne Greengrass was experiencing a peculiar moment of her own.

"I brought you some breakfast," She announced cheerily, "I know you enjoyed the orange scones I brought you a few days ago, so I made sure the house elves packed some extras for you this morning."

She set the carefully wrapped basket of pastries and biscuits onto the wobbly metal table, pushing it towards the thin witch sitting across from her.

Lily Potter stared at her through empty eyes, making no move to reach for the basket of baked goods in front of her. She gestured to the newspaper Daphne had folded beside her plate, and her voice was hoarse as she asked, "What's this?"

"Oh, this?" The blonde witch smiled, but there was no warmth in her dark blue gaze. "That's your obituary."

"My obitu–" Lily's voice broke as she whispered, "People think I'm dead?"

Daphne shrugged, pulling out the other chair at the table, barely wincing as it scraped across the concrete floor. She sat down elegantly and plucked a muffin out of the basket, "I believe they held your funeral service a few days ago. If it helps, I heard it was beautiful."

"But," Lily licked her chapped lips in an anxious manner, "I'm not dead."

"Of course not, Lady Potter," Daphne said sweetly, "But to the rest of the world you are." She patted the other woman's hand in a faux show of comfort, "I wouldn't be too upset about it–it's not as though people were expecting for you to live a long life. You were thrown in Azkaban to serve a life sentence, remember? People don't exactly walk away from that unscathed."

"I can't–" Lily Potter gasped, shaking her head as she began to hyperventilate, "I can't let them think I'm dead. Oh, Merlin, they can't think I've abandoned them!"

"Calm down," Daphne rolled her eyes, picking apart the muffin on her plate, "They barely even looked for your body before they declared you dead, I doubt they need your help."

The older witch let out another choked wheeze, "I can't–" She coughed and grabbed her throat desperately, "I can't breathe."

"Just try to sit still," Daphne's eyes softened, "I think you're having a panic attack."

As Lily Potter continued to shudder and shake in the seat across from her, Daphne sighed. She rose up from her chair and walked over to the other witch, murmuring for her to keep quiet as she reached into her robes for the calming drought she had stashed away. Daphne struggled a bit to convince the other witch to open her mouth but eventually she succeeded, and she was able to tip the clear liquid down her throat.

After a few moments, Lily's loud sobs faded into soft whimpers, and Daphne stepped back with a frown. She barely had a moment to process the incident, however, as a loud knock on the metal door echoed throughout the cramped room, effectively startling her.

Daphne stiffened, but she quickly turned around to silence Lily Potter in case the woman decided to make her presence known. Before she could make her way over to the heavy door, however, it slid open with a loud screech and a head of shocking platinum hair stepped through.

"Seriously?" Draco Malfoy raised a fair brow at her, "You didn't even lock the door?"

"I was expecting you," Daphne defended herself, "Besides if anyone managed to uncover all my concealment charms, get through the maze, and know the right combination of stones to reveal the steps that lead down the wishing well–then I'd say they earned their right to barge in here, wouldn't you?"

"Cute," He sneered at her. "What's this about, then? You can't keep calling me to do all your dirty work, Daph. I still have to pack my trunk for the train."

"Please, we all know the house elves pack your trunk for you," Daphne waved her hand dismissively. "You don't have the patience."

"That's not the point," He snapped. "Why am I here? Don't tell me you're having second thoughts about kidnapping Mrs. Potter?" He let his gaze flicker meaningfully over to the red-haired witch that was staring at him as though he were a ghost. He turned back to look at his friend and just barely caught the flash of uncertainty that appeared across her pretty features.

"No," He groaned, shaking his head. "You can't be serious. You couldn't have had your doubts before you asked me to go behind Hadrian's back and save her? I almost died trying to save that wretched harpy," He scowled.

Daphne bit her lip, "I thought I was doing the right thing, Draco. You know Hadrian was never going to move on from this if he had just killed her. I couldn't let him do that to himself. He needed closure, not revenge."

Draco ran a tired hand down his face, "I can't believe this. You're usually the one who thinks everything through, Daph. How were you even planning on taking care of her after we went back to Hogwarts? I don't think your mother would be pleased if she found out you were keeping a prisoner trapped in the secret bunker underneath your family's property."

"She's not a prisoner," Daphne protested half-heartedly, "I gave her food and I made sure she wouldn't freeze to death and–"

"House plants are treated better than your future mother-in-law."

"Draco," Daphne panicked and grabbed his arm, accidentally digging her nails into his pale skin, "My parents can never find out about this–"

"Ow, ouch–fuck, Daphne!" He hissed, prying her hand away from his arm with a grimace. He shot her a glare and fixed his sleeve, "Why don't you just send a house elf to come check on her once in a while?"

"A house elf?" Daphne wrinkled her nose, "That's practically inhumane. She'll go mad trapped in here all alone."

Draco scoffed. "The woman spent over a year in Azkaban. If she hasn't already gone mad, I doubt an extended stay at the Greengrass bunker resort will do her in." He crossed his arms across his chest and asked, "Besides, why does it matter? You need her alive, not sentient."

She smacked his arm, "That's my future mother-in-law you're talking about, show some respect."

"Daphne," He pursed his lips into a thin line, "You're holding her captive underground. If you wanted to respect her, you'd at least set her up with some fluffier pillows."

"Stop being annoying," Daphne rolled her eyes, "I called you here so you could give me better ideas, not be your usual unhelpful self," She let her gaze wander back to Lily briefly, "I knew I should've called for Hermione, instead."

"Well, Granger doesn't know shite about you holding a hostage," Draco retorted, shaking his head, "She is alarmingly in the dark."

"She'll figure it out soon enough," Daphne shrugged, unconcernedly. "Now, focus, Draco. What do we do about this?"

The taller man shot her a scathing look before turning back to look at the red-haired witch that was currently eyeing them both with distrust. She had tucked her legs underneath her body on the chair, shrinking herself into a tiny ball to avoid catching their eye.

Draco swallowed hard. It was probably a defensive tactic she had picked up in Azkaban, in order to avoid being seen and punished by the wardens that had the tendency to stroll down the halls looking for a fight. His own father had developed a similar defense mechanism, though Draco knew he tried to hide it. It was subtle, but Draco caught the way his father immediately stiffened whenever there was an unexpected noise or even if a door had slammed too loudly.

"Perhaps I can convince my mother to come check on her once in a while," He finally said with a heavy sigh, "She comes here often enough to have tea with your mother that it wouldn't be too suspicious."

Daphne's eyes lit up, "Do you think she would really do that? All your mother would have to do is speak with Lily from time to time, so she doesn't go insane in here all alone."

"You'd be surprised to know what she would do for Hadrian," Draco snorted, letting his mercurial gaze linger over the frail witch sitting at the table. His lips curved into a vicious smirk as he added, "She's like the mother he never had."

Gryffindor Dormitory [January 25th]

As the sunset washed his dormitory in a warm orange hue, Alexander Potter lay awake in his bed staring intently at the spirally patterns in the ceiling, trying his best to ignore the frantic knocking against his door. He had no desire to speak with anyone as of late, nor did he want to entertain any of his friends. He supposed the past month had turned him into quite the recluse; other than attending his classes and monotonously eating his meals in the Great Hall, he had kept to himself, mostly.

He heard the doorknob rattle and shake as the door was pushed open, and he couldn't help but sigh in disappointment. He had hoped that his roommates would leave him alone, but to his chagrin only a few seconds later a pair of dark hands pushed open the curtains he had purposefully drawn shut around his bed.

"Alexander?"

"Parvati?" He blinked, quickly scrambling to sit up in his tangled sheets. "What are you doing here?" He ran a hand through his shaggy hair, "This is the boys dormitory."

Parvati wrinkled her nose at the piles of clothes and towels strewn across the small room, "Trust me, I know," She hesitantly moved a hand-knit Gryffindor scarf off his bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress, "You missed Potions this morning. Dean said you've been cooped up in here all day."

"I didn't feel like going," He muttered, "Why would I waste my time learning how to brew wolfsbane?" His lips curved into a mocking smile, "It's rather pointless when I probably won't survive the year, isn't it?"

"Don't say that," She replied automatically, reaching for his hand.

He moved away from her abruptly, pretending not to notice the hurt expression that flashed across her face. He shook his head, "There's no point in denying it, Parvati. This bloody war has taken everything from me. Sometimes I just wish–" His voice broke and he averted his gaze. "Sometimes I wish I could end it all."

"You don't mean–"

"Oh, but I do," He chuckled darkly. "Don't you get it? I thought that being the Chosen One was something to be envious of. I thought it was a title that made me more powerful than the rest," He whispered, "But that's not true at all, is it? I'm just a pawn. I've been the fool all along."

"You're not a fool," Parvati sighed, "You're under so much pressure, Alexander. I know it can be difficult sometimes. I know what it's like–"

"No," He interrupted her with a scowl, "You don't know what it's like. The entire fate of the wizarding world rests on my shoulders," His lip curled into a hateful sneer, "The most you've ever had to worry about is your OWL scores, or whether your shoes will match your cloak. You don't know anything about my life."

Parvati frowned, "I'm only trying to help you, Alexander. You don't have to be so–"

"I don't have to be so what?" He raised an eyebrow expectantly. "Angry? Upset–"

"Cruel," She ground out, clenching her jaw. "I've done nothing but try to support you and stand by your side. You didn't even notice me until Ronald started dating Lav last year, but I was always there for you. I know you're upset but–"

"Parvati, I really don't have time for this," He rolled his eyes, swinging his feet over the bed and onto the ground. He grabbed the jumper he had tossed over his bedpost and pulled it over his head, "I'm going to go train before I have to lose someone else I care about."

"Alexander," She quickly stood up from the bed to follow him as he marched towards the door. "I am so sorry about your mother. She didn't deserve what happened to her."

He curled his hand around the doorknob and looked at her over his shoulder. "Sorry won't bring her back, now will it, Parvati?"

She wrung her hands together nervously and stuttered, "I-I just want to help you–"

"I don't need you," He hissed, turning back to yank open the door, "This is my fight."

He heard her shout something angrily in response, but he ignored her and strode out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He ran down the staircase two steps at a time, not particularly caring if she was cross with him–not when he had so much to worry about already.

He avoided the stares he received from his housemates in the common room, barely sparing them a glance as he hurried out of the tower. He wasn't sure where he was going exactly, but anywhere that was away from other people would be a nice start.

Though he usually was quite social, he simply didn't have the energy to deal with such frivolities anymore. He was tired of the attention and the whispers that followed him wherever he went. He was sick of the stares, and the gossip, and the constant spotlight that tracked his every move. All he wanted to do was curl up in a secluded corner of the castle and spend a few hours alone.

After a few minutes of walking, Alexander decided to seek refuge in the library. He doubted anyone would think to look for him in between the stacks of books in the very back. He was sure only Madam Pince went back there, since the majority of the books in that section had been collecting dust for several decades now.

He thought he had stumbled upon the perfect hiding spot–a quiet little alcove tucked into the back corner of the library–when suddenly a girl came into view from the opposite end of the aisle.

His eyes narrowed into slits as the swot Granger balanced a stack of books in her arms so high, it nearly covered her entire head from view. The only reason he was able to identify her was because of the massive mane of frizzy curls on top of her head.

"Bugger off, Granger, this is my spot for tonight," He snarled at her, sliding down into a sitting position against one of the shelves.

Granger gasped, almost dropping the massive pile of books in her arms in surprise. She carefully hoisted them more securely against her side and turned her cartoonish doe eyes on him, immediately scowling when she registered just who it was.

"Potter," She sniffed haughtily, "Fancy seeing you here in the library. I didn't know you could read."

"Funny," Alexander said flatly, pushing a dark piece of hair out of his eyes. "Unfortunately, I'm not in the mood for jokes. So, if you could just scurry away like the little mouse you are and leave me alone, that would be bloody fantastic."

"You don't own the library," Granger stomped towards him with a petulant frown, "I can stay here if I want. You're the one who's here on a Saturday night. Shouldn't you be out wreaking havoc somewhere–or whatever it is you Gryffindors do?"

"Not in the mood," He muttered. He glanced up at her with a wry smile, "Are you going to get out of here, or do I have to call you a mudblood like Malfoy does in order to make you my bitch?"

He watched in amusement as her face turned a bright shade of red in a matter of seconds. He could've sworn he practically saw the steam rising from her ears.

She dropped her books onto the ground and shouldered her bag angrily before shoving herself into his space, "What did you just say?"

"No need to get so upset," Alexander shrugged, though he could feel a cold feeling creep up his spine. He shuddered involuntarily, "You've clearly made your decision–even if it's a horribly stupid one."

Her eye twitched.

"I think it's funny," He pressed on, undeterred by her less than impressed expression. "You– of all people–hanging off the arm of someone like Malfoy," He pretended to pout sympathetically, "You know he's just using you, right, Granger? The second his little Death Eater daddy sets betroths him to that Parkinson bint, he'll leave you. The only thing you'll have left is your dignity–" He paused and grinned nastily, "Oh wait. That disappeared the second you decided to drop your knickers for that Death Eater scum." He shook his head and snorted, "Brightest witch of our age, my arse."

"You don't know anything," She whispered in a low tone. "In fact, I feel sorry for you, Potter."

"You, feel sorry for me?" He raised an eyebrow, forcing out a laugh. "Why would a mudblood feel sorry for me?"

"Because you're nothing but a means to an end," Granger said matter-of-factly, smirking down at him. "You're just the sacrificial lamb. You think I'm being used?" She laughed then, and the sharp noise sent goosebumps crawling up his skin. "You've already lost. It's a pity so many people had to die before you finally realized it. " She leaned down and dropped her voice to a hushed tone, "Have you ever considered the fact that you may not be the hero in this story, Potter?"

He stared at her for a short second and before he could think clearly, he lunged at her.

Hemione stepped away not a second too soon, and instead of her throat, his hands wrapped around the strap of her bag. She glared at him and made to move aside, but his arms tugged at her strap and pulled her backwards until she was trapped.

"Let go of me," She snapped, reaching for the wand that was safely tucked away in the waistband of her skirt. "I swear to Merlin you'll–"

Hermione let out a startled shriek as he abruptly dropped the leather strap he had latched onto, and the contents of her bag were flung all over the ground. She shot him a glare that was positively freezing before she knelt down to pick up her things as quickly as she could.

She had just closed her hand around one of her spare quills when she heard his throat clear a few feet away from her.

"Granger," His voice was heavy, and she reluctantly turned to look at him when he asked, "What's this?"

She stiffened as she caught sight of the innocuous looking silver tiara, embedded with sapphires and dripping with delicate sparkling diamonds. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stay composed as he stared at the diadem.

"Do you know what this is?" He stepped towards her, noting the way she flinched as he shook the object in his hands.

Alexander's gaze was calculating as he assessed how her eyes widened at the mere sight of the tiara, "You do," He concluded with a grimace. All of a sudden, his eyes narrowed, "Where did you get this?"

She cleared her throat, finally finding her voice. "Why do you care?" She demanded to know.

"I'm the Chosen One," He scoffed. "Why do you have this, Granger?"

The curly-haired witch sighed, "I found it, alright?"

"You found it?" Alexander squinted at her suspiciously. "How did you just–"

"Listen, it's none of your business!" She retorted. "I just stumbled upon it in the Come and Go Room, and it–it just seemed important. I wanted to find out what it was. So, I came here to do some research and–" She threw up her hands in defeat, "Well, you found me."

"You found it in the–Granger!" He barked, "Do you even know what this actually is?"

"It's the lost diadem of Ravenclaw, of course," Hermione crossed her arms across her chest. "I was going to give it to the Ministry for historical protection but–"

"No!" He cut her off before she could finish her train of thought. "It's not–I mean, I think I'll take it up to the Headmaster for you."

She let out a rude noise and shook her head, "I'm not letting you get all the credit for this. I found it, so I think I'll take it up to the Headmaster. I reckon this would really put Ravenclaw in the lead for the House Cup."

"This is more important than your fucking house points!" Alexander pulled the diadem back, just as she tried to reach for it. "I'll take care of it."

"You can't just steal it from me," She put her hands on her hips and glared at him, "I found it first. And, I'm a Ravenclaw so it should be in my possession, not yours."

He pulled out his wand in a flash and pointed it at her with a threatening glint in his eyes. "Ravenclaw or not, this is one of the most important artifacts in the history of magic. You don't deserve to even breathe near it, let alone touch it," He said coldly, hiding the diadem behind his back. "I suggest you gather your shite and leave before you really anger me, Granger. Trust me when I say that one less mudblood swot wouldn't matter to anyone."

She eyed the wand in his hands nervously for a long moment.

His shoulders nearly sagged in relief when he saw the fight leave her eyes and she turned to walk away with an enraged huff.

"You won't regret this, Granger," He called after her. "I knew you would side with us in the end."

She muttered something unkind under her breath and resolved to put as much space as she could between them by marching out of the library. She had barely passed through the massive double doors that led out into the corridor when a tall body fell into step with her.

"Did he believe you?"

"He's a bit of a mug," Hermione gritted her teeth together, "I think he'd believe anything if it fed his smarmy ego."

Hadrian laughed and tossed an arm around her shoulders, "I hope he didn't anger you too much. I was afraid you'd send him to an early grave."

"If he calls me a mudblood one more time, I think I might have to," She grumbled.

Slytherin Dormitory [February 15th]

"I thought the poisoned mead would do it," Destiny sighed, flopping onto the armchair by the window. "It seemed like a full-proof plan at the time."

"Yes, well, unfortunately, Slughorn can't be trusted to do even the simplest of tasks," Draco muttered, shutting the door to his room with a quick glance around to make sure nobody had noticed he had snuck a Gryffindor into their dorms.

"You know what this means, don't you?" She worried at her lip, "You're going to have to kill him the old-fashioned way."

"I figured as much," Draco sighed, falling back onto his bed with an annoyed huff. He stared up at the ceiling with a frown, "Honestly, how was I supposed to know Slughorn would share the bottle with a student?"

"Not just any student," Destiny pointed out, "Ronald Weasley. I wonder what he was doing back at school in the first place?"

"I heard that after the Azkaban massacre, the Order insisted on sending Potter and Weasley back to school early. Something about Hogwarts being the safest place for them to be."

Destiny smirked, "That won't be true for long. How much progress has Hermione made on the vanishing cabinet?"

He glanced over at her with a proud glint in his eyes, "My mother tracked down another vanishing cabinet for her over the holidays, and Granger thinks the broken one should be fully repaired any day now."

She wrinkled her nose, "You're still calling her Granger? Haven't you two been officially together for almost a month now?"

"She'll always be Granger." He insisted with a wry grin. "Thank Merlin she's almost done with the cabinet, though, Blaise and Neville have been complaining for weeks about standing guard for her."

"Could they be any more childish? All they have to do is stand there and keep their eyes open. Hermione has to do the actual work."

"They've been complaining about the Polyjuice," Draco explained, "They always fight over who has to be the girl and I think its seriously starting to put a strain on their friendship."

"Boys," Destiny rolled her eyes. "Too stupid to even do the bare minimum correctly."

"I sincerely hope that wasn't a jab at me," Draco propped himself up on his elbows to shoot her a look, "They just have to stand guard. I have to murder my Headmaster."

"You didn't have much trouble killing Lily Potter," Destiny shrugged. "Or Dolohov."

Draco ran a tired hand through his hair. "Not this again," He groaned. "I've already told you–it had to be done. Besides, Dolohov cursed Granger–I wasn't going to let him walk away after that."

"And Lily Potter?" She raised an eyebrow in challenge, standing up from the armchair. "Why would you–"

"Drop it, Destiny," He warned her, "I already told you–It had to be done."

She shook her head in disappointment, reaching over to grab her bag with a sour look plastered onto her pixie-like features. "You know it wasn't right."

"You can't seriously be upset about this," Draco said incredulously as he watched her collect her things and march towards the door. "Where are you going? We haven't even started to figure out how to deal with the Dumbledore situation."

"Why don't you just do it yourself?" Destiny scoffed, "Considering how familiar you've become with murder, I don't think you need my help to plan anything out anymore. You're all on your own, Draco."

Before he could even respond, she had already pried open the door to his room and stepped out into the hall. He called out her name several times through the door, but she ignored him and continued walking down the hall, not caring that she would be spotted by the Slytherins loitering around in the dorms.

She had just started to climb up the staircase that led up to the common room when suddenly a tall body crashed into her. She would've probably topped down the stairs, if it weren't for the heavy hand that quickly grabbed her waist and trapped her against the railing.

Just from the woody scent that left her feeling light-headed, she knew exactly who it was. Her bright eyes flicked upwards until she saw the strong arms and tense jaw of her boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend, she reminded herself.

"Oh–I–" Destiny bit her lip, trying to control the blush that rose up her neck, "Hi." She finally whispered, immediately cringing just a second later at how ridiculous she had sounded.

Neville Longbottom stood silently as she nervously shifted her weight from foot to foot, trying to avoid the weight of his flinty stare.

"I was just leaving," She blurted out after a moment of awkward silence. She made to move around him and squeaked, "If I could just–pardon me–"

"Destiny," He hesitantly moved his arm away from her and asked softly, "Can we talk?"

"Talk?" She frowned, trying to discreetly wipe away her sweaty palms on her skirt. "Uh–I suppose–I mean, yes, of course."

He smiled at her then, and Destiny felt her shoulders stiffen with unease as he led her back down the stairs towards his room. She waited till he had closed the door before tentatively moving to sit in the chair by his desk. Her gaze darted around the room in obvious restlessness as he took his time with the locking charms.

"I see you redecorated," She glanced at the posters that had not been there a few months ago and the armchair that was now on the opposite side of the room. "I like it."

"I can't do this, Destiny," Neville spoke quietly. "I don't want to do this."

She blinked.

"You don't want to–" Destiny paused for a second, unable to comprehend his words. "O-Okay," She breathed. "This is it then? That's all you have to say to me?"

He nodded.

Destiny let out a shaky breath, turning her head to stare out the gloomy dark waters of the Black Lake to hide the way her eyes stung with unshed tears. "Alright," She swallowed hard, moving to get up from his desk. "I'll see you in Potions tomorrow."

Before she could blink, he had zipped towards the door, blocking the exit with a frown marring his aristocratic features. "That's it?" He ran his tongue over his teeth in confusion, "You're not even going to try to change my mind?"

"Neville, why would I do that?" She asked, throwing her hands in the air in frustration. "You seem to have made up your mind. The least you could do is let me try to move on."

"Just like that?" He raised an eyebrow, sucking in a sharp breath, "You would just–"

"Oh, spare me the dramatics," Destiny snapped, pushing a finger against his chest accusingly, "You broke up with me–this is twice, now, if we're keeping count. What do you expect me to do, Neville? Sit here for the rest of my life and pine over you? Would that be an adequate enough punishment?"

"Punishment?" He furrowed his brows, "What are you on about, witch?"

"You're punishing me," She said softly, locking her eyes with his. Her voice broke slightly when she asked, "Why?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Neville snorted, "I am not punishing you."

Slowly, she trailed her hand down the length of his hard chest and watched his gaze darken within seconds. Destiny stepped away from him with a triumphant smirk, "You're still attracted to me. Which tells me you're not actively avoiding me for your benefit."

He narrowed his eyes at her, "That does not mean I'm punishing–"

"Yes," She ground out, "You are." She took another step towards him, but this time she was careful to not touch him. "You're punishing me for something I can't control. You're punishing me because you can't punish my mother."

He shook his head, "No. I told you, I've already made peace with Bellatrix–"

"Bullshite," Destiny scoffed at him. "You're a horrible liar. Even now, when you're trying to break up with me, I know you don't mean it."

"Of course, I mean it," He crossed his arms across his chest stubbornly, "Why else would I pull you aside to talk?"

"You're still lying," Destiny informed him. "You can't stand the thought of walking away from me," She sang, "I bet the mere idea of it makes you upset." Her eyes glittered with something dark as she stated, "You keep trying to push me away, but if I even looked at someone else–it would destroy you, wouldn't it?"

Neville bit the inside of his cheek, "No–you're free to do whatever you please."

"Great!" She brightened up and tried to reach for the door, "Since we've officially 'broken up', I suppose I can finally accept Pucey's invitation to dinner," Her smile barely disguised her bared teeth, "He's been absolutely relentless since the Malfoy ball."

"Pucey?" Neville cursed under his breath. "You can't be serious."

"Why wouldn't I be?" She pretended to be confused, "I thought I was free to do whatever I pleased."

"Yeah, but not Pucey," He sneered at her. "That git probably owns more hair products than you do."

"I don't see how it's any of your business," Destiny shrugged. "You decided we were done. All I'm doing is respecting your decision. Because I get it–I know you must feel so conflicted being with me. My mother–" Destiny sighed heavily and averted her gaze, "I know she's not a good person. I know what she did to your parents. What she did to so many other people."

"Then why do you continue to defend her?" Neville asked bluntly. "Why do you still–"

"Maybe because I'm selfish," She admitted. "I love her because she saved me. She wasn't even of my blood, but she cared about me more than my parents ever did. I know it's wrong of me to justify her past actions, but when you love someone, you can't help but erase all their flaws," Her lips curved into a sad smile, "Rose-coloured glasses, and all that."

Neville shook his head, "She took my parents from me, Destiny."

"I can't apologize for her actions," Destiny whispered, "She was a hurt woman who hurt others in return. Your parents didn't deserve what happened to them–but neither did she, Neville."

He was quiet for a long moment before he eventually glanced up at her with reddened eyes, "As their son–as the only heir to the Longbottom family–What do I owe my parents?"

She hesitantly brushed aside a lock of hair from his eyes, "That's a question only you can answer, Nev," She slid around him to open the door, "Whatever you decide–" She stood silent for a second and choked out, "Don't let your guilt stop you from being happy."

Severus Snape muttered a curse under his breath before he reluctantly pushed himself away from his desk to go open the window and let in the owl that had been incessantly pecking at the glass.

He tore open the letter the owl had unceremoniously dropped in front of him and then shooed the feathery creature away with a sharp glare. He let his bored gaze travel over the elegant note, reading it once, twice, and then three times:

Dearest Severus,

Draco tells me that Hadrian had promised you something earlier this summer in exchange for your loyalty to our cause.

I hope the recent events in our world haven't caused you too much grief. Rest assured, your demands have been met. If you would like to see proof, please meet me tomorrow at the Greengrass Estate. It's best you keep the intentions of your visit to yourself.

Warmly,

N. Malfoy

Severus Snape crumpled the note in his hands after the fifth time he had read over the neat script. He had spent the majority of his holidays grieving in secret silence–only to be told there might be some hope left after all.

He was starting to get tired of these games they all played.

Great Hall [March 27th]

Alexander Potter shoveled a spoonful of porridge into his mouth, ignoring the not-so-subtle disgusted looks from his housemates as flipped through the leather-bound potions textbook he had discovered at the beginning of the year. He didn't think they were in any position to judge, considering he was saving their sorry arses and the rest of the wizarding world, after all.

He had just scraped the last bit of his breakfast out of the bowl when he caught sight of his housemate reading the Daily Prophet across the table–specifically, he caught sight of the familiar face smiling at him from the front page. He scowled almost instantly as soon as he recognized the smooth blonde tresses and practiced smile that belonged to none other than Narcissa Malfoy. She waved to the camera with an effortless charm under the massive headline that took up the entire front page of the Prophet: 'Lady Narcissa Malfoy sworn into the Wizengamot'.

"Let me see that," He demanded to the faceless Gryffindor, holding out his hand expectantly. The younger girl glowered at him but eventually passed the newspaper over to him rather sullenly. Alexander paid her no attention, too focused on flipping through the paper to read the rest of glowing opinion piece on the newest member of Wizengamot.

His brows furrowed in confusion as he skimmed through the article, only able to discern positive comments and high ratings from the wizarding public instead of the scathing commentary he was expecting. He hadn't known there was a vacancy in the Wizengamot, but he simply couldn't believe the new position had already been filled by the Malfoy matriarch.

His frown deepened the more he read through the article outlining Lady Malfoy's political agenda:

Lady Malfoy wishes to bring more importance to the traditional values of family and responsibility in society. With a focus on equality and fairness, Lady Malfoy has strongly disapproved of the Azkaban Massacre, and has insisted on re-trying all surviving prisoners in front of the Wizengamot as early as next month.

Alexander didn't even bother to read the rest of the article. He couldn't believe the public was eating up the Malfoy family's 'Good Samaritan' bread and circus act so easily. It was as if everyone had forgotten that Lucius Malfoy had been a convicted Death Eater overnight. He didn't need a Seer to tell him that Lucius Malfoy's name would probably be at the top of the docket when the Wizengamot started to redo their criminal trials.

Couldn't people see the Malfoys were simply using the Azkaban disaster to swoop back into the positive light in the media?

He thought it was disgusting just how easily the public had forgotten Lucius Malfoy's wrongdoings every time Lady Malfoy hosted a new gala–or somehow arranged to be sworn into the Wizengamot. He was certain it couldn't have been a coincidence that the Ogden fellow had chosen to step down–there had to be some kind of foul play involved.

Alexander felt sick to his stomach the more he stared at the paper in his hands. With a sigh, he crumpled up the Daily Prophet, throwing the wadded-up ball back at the younger Gryffindor's head. She stuck her tongue out at him and shot him a nasty look, but he had bigger problems to worry about.

Like the fact that the Malfoys were known supporters of the Dark Lord, and they still managed to dodge imprisonment for years.

His lips curved into a grimace as he realized if the Malfoys threw enough money around, they made all their problems disappear. He had no doubt they were involved with the attack on Azkaban–the one that had taken his mother from him.

He swallowed hard.

The Malfoys might not have directly killed his mother–but they certainly weren't innocent by any means.

Through his peripheral vision, he could see Draco Malfoy stand up from his seat in the Great Hall and wave goodbye to his friends. Alexander narrowed his eyes as the tall blond sauntered out of the hall as though he owned the castle.

It wasn't fair. He thought to himself. As the Chosen One, he had received a lifetime of pain and loss.

But Draco Malfoy…he got everything he wanted. Despite being a Death Eater, despite being a dirty Slytherin…He got everything.

His expression hardened, and he stood up from his seat not a second later, shoving aside his empty bowl and tucking his textbook back into his robes. He tried to control the way his hands shook against his side in rage as he discreetly followed the blond through the corridors, ducking behind a statue or odd tapestry every time Malfoy glanced back over his shoulder.

Alexander gritted his teeth together as his classmate walked through the washroom on the second floor all by himself. He could feel his magic itching towards the other boy, desperate to lash out and channel his anger into something.

Before he could think it through properly, he ducked his head out from the corner of the hall to check if the corridor was clear before he quietly slipped inside the lavatory. He kept his footsteps light as he caught sight of Malfoy standing over the sink, washing his hands with a low hum.

After a second, Malfoy reached over to turn off the tap, but then he stiffened abruptly.

Alexander locked eyes with the blond in the mirror, deciding to give up his attempt to be stealthy.

"Potter," Draco Malfoy drawled, turning around to face him with a scowl, "You've taken to stalking me to the lavatory now? I thought following me through the halls was enough."

Alexander must have let the surprise show on his face, because Malfoy shook his head and chuckled darkly, "Do you think we're idiots? Do you think we haven't noticed you and your little cronies trailing behind us all semester? You lot are about as subtle as a herd of hippogriffs."

"If you knew," Alexander began to speak quietly, trying to control the tremble in his voice, "If you knew all along–why did you–"

"What's a show without an audience?" Malfoy smirked, resting his hands on the sink as he leaned his back against it. "Do you know what it means to control the narrative?"

"Is that what this all is?" Alexander hissed as he gesticulated wildly, "You and your lowlife family trying to grab at any rung of power to climb to the top? Inciting a mass breakout to–what? 'Control the narrative'?"

"Don't speak about my family like that," Draco glared down at him over his sharp nose, "At least I have people that care about me." He crossed his arms over his chest and jeered, "Where's your father, Potter? Where's your Mum?" He let out a low laugh, "My mistake, I forgot you don't even know what unmarked grave they tossed her into."

"Fuck you," Alexander spat, pulling out his wand out of his robes, "You don't deserve to walk through these halls acting all innocent. I know who you truly are. I know you're nothing more than a lowly Death Eater."

"That is a wild accusation," Draco Malfoy flashed him a wicked grin, beginning to roll up the sleeves of his crisp white button down slowly. He raised an eyebrow, "The question is, who would believe you?"

"Everyone would believe me," Alexander jutted his chin out in pride, trying to focus on his words as the water continued to flow out of the sink at full force, "I'm the Chosen One."

"Too bad that doesn't mean shite anymore, Potter," Malfoy retorted. "In case you haven't noticed, the times are changing. Your family is no longer in power. You have no proof, so your word means nothing." The light glinted off his sharp teeth as he added, "Just. Like. You."

Alexander felt his self-control snap as he stared at the taunting expression on the other man's face. Gone was the annoying little pointed face that had teased him all throughout his early years at Hogwarts. Now in his place stood an altogether different type of creature, something more dangerous and threatening lingered in his silvery gaze and angular features.

He knew it was a set up. He knew he was playing right into Malfoy's hands.

Unfortunately, even that wasn't enough to stop him. He leveled his wand at the other boy, and the unknown curse he had just read about was already forming at the tip of his tongue. His eyes narrowed as he shouted, "Sectumsempra!"

He watched with a bated breath as the curse shot straight towards the other boy, reflecting the fear in his eyes as it barreled square into his chest. There was a strangled cry as Malfoy slumped forward onto the puddle of water already forming on the ground, and his blood began to spread through the water, giving it a slight pink tinge.

Alexander waited a few seconds for Malfoy to groan and sit back up, but to his growing dismay the other boy remained still, slumped over the ground with a shredded shirt stained with crimson blood. His shoulders shivered involuntarily, and he had just taken another step towards Malfoy when suddenly the door slammed open from behind him.

"Draco?" Hadrian Riddle's voice echoed throughout the silent bathroom. Only the sound of water flowing freely through the tap could be heard, and Alexander felt his breathing start to quicken as the footsteps got closer.

"Granger said you'd been gone for a while," Riddle called out, "She's standing outside pacing a hole in the ground, so I told her I'd come in to check on–" His voice faltered as his eyes fell over the scene in front of him. His gaze darted over the blood-tinged water that was quickly seeping through his shoes on the ground, then over to Alexander, and then finally onto the crumpled heap that his best friend had fallen into.

"You," Riddle hissed, flexing his fingers against his side as though he were controlling the urge to curse him on the spot, "What did you do?"

Alexander shook his head, horrified to feel the heavy tears roll down his face as he stuttered, "I don't–I don't know," He choked out, dropping his wand onto the ground and backing away, "I didn't mean to."

He barely even had a chance to breathe as Hadrian Riddle slammed him against the wall without even lifting a finger. He watched Riddle walk over to his friend and check his pulse, carefully, turning him over onto his side to assess his injuries.

Alexander's stomach dropped as he saw the crisscross slashes in Malfoy's chest, heavy with dark spirals of blood.

Hadrian Riddle cursed under his breath and pressed his hands against the open wounds, trying to keep the blood from trickling out. He whispered another spell, but his expression only grew more troubled as he realized it had no effect on his friend. He had just started to try another healing charm when Alexander heard the door slam open once more, and he heard Hermione Granger's voice call out, "Is everything alright in there? I brought Professor Snape, just in case."

Her shoes squeaked loudly on the floors as she walked into the lavatory with Professor Snape trailing imperiously behind her. Alexander closed his eyes to avoid witnessing the panicked look in her eyes as she glanced his direction.

"What-What have you done?" She whispered, walking towards the blonde sprawled across the floor. "You-You –"

"He's alive, but barely," Hadrian Riddle informed her, moving aside as Professor Snape wordlessly strode over to kneel over Malfoy with a concerned frown. He wiped a bead of sweat away from his brow as Snape began to whisper a foreign spell and siphon the blood back into the open wounds that sliced across Malfoy's body.

"It was an accident," Alexander said quietly, finally opening his eyes to shoot her a pleading look. "I-I thought he was a Death Eater."

Granger slowly–deliberately–glanced over at the way Malfoy's arm had stretched at an odd angle across the floor. The tears in the fabric of his shirt allowed Alexander to fully view Malfoy's uncovered arm.

His bare, uncovered arm.

"Granger," He swallowed down his fear, "I didn't mean to curse him. I didn't know what the spell would do–I just–"

"Only an absolute idiot would cast a spell they didn't fully understand," Snape muttered, though Alexander heard it perfectly clear in the otherwise silent bathroom.

"You–" Granger turned around abruptly and shoved her own wand into his neck, "I should curse you right where you stand. All this talk about fighting for the 'good guys' and being on the right side of history," She shook her head bitterly and spat, "It's never been about good or evil, for you, has it? You don't care about anything as long as you're in power."

"N-No, that's not true–" He tried to insist, but was immediately cut off.

"You're a fucking hypocrite, you know that, Potter?" She jabbed her wand into his skin. "You're walking the halls freely when there are people dying every day because of you. If you took a second to step outside this little bubble of self-importance you've created for yourself, you'd notice that the rest of the world is sufferingfrom your side's abuse. It's time you took a good hard look at yourself and realized you're not the heroes of this story, Potter."

"How can you say that?" He replied almost automatically, "I know-I know I shouldn't have cursed Malfoy, but it was an accident," His voice dropped to a whisper as he added, "Though let's not pretend as though he didn't deserve it."

"Excuse me?" Granger sucked in a sharp breath, " I would choose your next words very carefully if I were you, Potter."

"His family has been worshipping You-Know-Who for decades now, Granger. I'm trying to protect your kind from being washed out–but you're siding with him? He's a monster."

She scoffed, "That's funny, because there's only one person bleeding here and it's not you."

Alexander felt himself stiffen as she stepped closer to him, and her cool breath brushed over his ear as she leaned in to whisper, "I hope you know the only reason I haven't cursed you yet is because your punishment isn't mine to deliver," She let her eyes trail over to where Hadrian Riddle was still holding his palms over his friend's wounds to stem the bleeding, "Someone else will make you pay for your sins, Potter, but it won't be me."

Alexander Potter gnashed his teeth together and gritted out, "It's not like you lot are innocent."

"We're not," She shrugged, "But at least we don't pretend to be." Her lips curved into a mocking little smirk as she warned him, "Hadrian doesn't believe in an eye for an eye," She paused and let out an amused little laugh, "If you've wronged him, you should be prepared to lose much more than just an eye. He won't stop until you've lost everything you ever had."