Lucius Malfoy stood in his study, the letter clutched tightly in his hand, his pale knuckles turning even whiter against the parchment. His cold grey eyes scanned the words again, though he scarcely needed to—he had memorized every detail the moment he read it. His daughter, Celeste, had been attacked by a Mudblood. *A Mudblood*.
His grip tightened, crumpling the letter as he set it aside, his mind already racing. How had this even happened? Why was his daughter, *his daughter, anywhere near that boy in the first place? He had explicitly instructed her to keep her distance from the likes of him. Lucius couldn't fathom what had possessed her to involve herself with the boy.
A Mudblood, attacking his daughter? It was unacceptable. He had only agreed to let Giza Patel remain at Hogwarts for one reason—so Severus could watch him, press him, and ultimately ensure the boy was put in his place.
Lucius's eyes narrowed, a sneer curling on his lips. One more mistake—one more *slight* mishap—and he would have enough leverage to remove the boy from Hogwarts for good. If necessary, he could ensure the boy was sent to Azkaban, where he would never threaten a pureblood again. One Mudblood boy was of no consequence to the larger scheme of things.
But first, he needed to visit Celeste and get to the bottom of this. He needed to understand exactly how his daughter had been involved with that boy. She was raised to understand her place, her superiority. Lucius would never tolerate her lowering herself to mingle with someone like Giza Patel.
With a quick flourish of his wand, Lucius straightened his robes, his mind already calculating the steps he needed to take next. There would be answers, and there would be consequences—of that, he was certain.
He stepped out of his study, his mind sharp with determination. If that boy had truly harmed a pureblood, it would be the last mistake he ever made.
Celeste awoke to the soft rustling of sheets and the gentle hum of the hospital wing. Her body felt heavy, the lingering effects of unconsciousness making her feel disoriented. As her eyes fluttered open, the blurred outlines of the room slowly came into focus. She blinked once, then twice, before her gaze landed on the figure sitting beside her bed.
Her mother.
Narcissa Malfoy sat poised in her chair, her back straight and her hands folded neatly in her lap, as any proper pureblood woman should. But what unsettled Celeste more than anything was the expression on her mother's face. Narcissa was not one to show outward emotion—she was always composed, always in control, a paragon of dignity and grace.
But now, there was something in her eyes, something Celeste had never seen before: *worry*.
The look on her mother's face sent Celeste's stomach spiraling. She had always longed for some sign of affection, some unspoken connection, but now, seeing her mother's genuine concern, it made her feel vulnerable in a way she hadn't expected.
"Mother..." Celeste whispered, her voice hoarse from lack of use.
Narcissa's eyes flicked down to meet her daughter's. "Celeste," she breathed, her voice soft yet firm. Her hand reached out, hesitating for just a moment, before she gently touched Celeste's hand. "You're awake."
Celeste swallowed, feeling the knot in her throat tighten. She could tell something was very wrong. "What happened?"
Narcissa's lips pressed into a thin line. "You were injured," she said, her tone carefully measured, as if she were trying not to let too much slip. "I came as soon as I was informed."
Celeste's thoughts were slow to catch up. The last thing she remembered was... Giza, the lake, the stones, and then everything had gone black. Her heart sank. "Giza... did he—?"
Narcissa's hand tightened slightly around hers, her calm exterior cracking just a bit. "Your father is on his way. We will get to the bottom of this." There was a cold, dangerous edge to her voice that made it clear Lucius would not be so patient.
Celeste closed her eyes briefly, feeling both relief and dread. She had no idea what awaited her in the coming hours, but seeing the worry in her mother's eyes made her realize just how much she had to answer for.
Just then, the heavy doors to the hospital wing slammed open, the sound echoing sharply through the room. Celeste's heart skipped a beat as Lucius Malfoy strode in, his presence commanding and filled with barely contained fury. His silver cane clicked against the stone floor with every step, and the cold, hard expression on his face made the room feel suddenly smaller, more suffocating.
Trailing closely behind him was Professor Snape, his expression unreadable, though his dark eyes darted briefly toward Celeste before fixing themselves on Narcissa. The tension in the air was palpable.
"Celeste," Lucius said, his voice low and simmering with anger, though his tone softened just slightly when he looked at her. "What in Merlin's name happened?"
His gaze flicked between his daughter and the rest of the room, already hunting for someone to blame. His eyes briefly landed on Narcissa before narrowing in fury, no doubt already suspecting the worst regarding the incident with Giza.
Celeste shifted uncomfortably under his intense gaze, her head still spinning. "Father, it wasn't what you think," she began quietly, trying to find her voice. But before she could continue, Lucius interrupted her with a sharp wave of his hand.
"I've been informed that a *Mudblood* attacked my daughter," he said, his voice laced with venom as he turned to Snape, who stood quietly beside him. "I want to know how this was allowed to happen under your watch, Severus."
Snape's face remained as impassive as ever, though his eyes flickered briefly with something unreadable before he spoke. "The situation is... complicated, Lucius. Giza Patel's magic is powerful, but uncontrolled. There were mitigating circumstances, I believe."
Lucius' face twisted with anger at the mention of Giza. "Mitigating circumstances? My daughter lies injured because of that boy, and you want to speak of mitigating circumstances?"
"Lucius, let's not make any assumptions until we know all the facts," Narcissa interjected calmly, her voice soothing but firm as she stood, placing a gentle hand on Lucius' arm.
But Lucius was not one to be easily calmed. His eyes bore into Celeste's, demanding answers. "Why were you even near that boy in the first place, Celeste?"
Lucius stalked toward Celeste's bed, his towering presence casting a long shadow over her. His cold, furious gaze locked onto her as he leaned in, his voice sharp and commanding.
"Did that Mudblood do this to you?" he demanded, his voice rising. "*TELL ME*."
Celeste, for all the poise and attitude she had cultivated, was still just an eleven-year-old girl. The sight of her father, towering above her, furious and unrelenting, made her feel small, vulnerable, like the little girl she truly was. She tried to hold herself together, to maintain the Malfoy pride she had always been expected to show, but the fear and confusion were too much. Tears began to blur her vision, despite her best efforts to fight them back.
Her father's words hung in the air, crushing her, and all the emotions she had been holding inside—the confusion, the guilt, the anger—threatened to spill over.
"Lucius, *that's enough," Narcissa's voice cut through the tension, sharp and clear.
Before Celeste could even register what was happening, the sound of a hard slap echoed through the room. Narcissa staggered slightly, though she did not flinch or back down. Lucius' hand had connected with her cheek, the impact loud and brutal.
"You will *not* talk to me like that," Lucius snarled, his voice icy with contempt. "I am the head of House Malfoy."
The slap made Celeste flinch, her heart racing in her chest. She saw Snape's jaw tighten, his dark eyes narrowing, though he remained silent and still.
Narcissa, for her part, stood firm, her expression unchanging. She did not show pain or fear, only a steely resolve as she met her husband's gaze, though she made no move to intervene.
Lucius whirled back around, his furious eyes landing on Celeste again. His voice dropped to a low, dangerous tone, sending a shiver down her spine. "Did that *Mudblood* do this to you?" he asked again, his words heavy with menace.
Celeste felt the weight of her father's question bearing down on her, pressing her into a corner. Her heart pounded, her fear bubbling up until it finally spilled out.
"…Yes," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Lucius' eyes darkened with satisfaction and rage as he straightened up, his fists clenched. His anger, now directed fully at Giza, seemed to fill the room, suffocating all in its path.
Lucius turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, his anger palpable as his footsteps echoed down the corridor. Snape lingered for a moment, casting a brief glance at Narcissa—his expression unreadable, though his eyes hinted at something unspoken—before he followed Lucius out.
The room felt quieter, the air still heavy from the tension that had just passed. Narcissa slowly sat down beside Celeste, her usual composure returning, though the red mark on her cheek still stood out harshly against her pale skin.
"Mother… are you okay?" Celeste asked, her voice soft and filled with concern.
Narcissa looked at her daughter for a long moment, and something in her icy exterior softened. The rare vulnerability between them felt almost like a quiet rebellion against the expectations of their world. She offered Celeste a rare, gentle smile, her hand reaching out to stroke her daughter's cheek.
"Yes, my love," she said softly, her voice tender and warm in a way that Celeste seldom heard. Narcissa's touch was soothing, the warmth of her hand a comfort after the storm that had just passed. For a brief moment, it was just the two of them—mother and daughter, the outside world kept at bay.
Celeste leaned into the touch, feeling a small sense of relief, even though the turmoil inside her still raged. In that moment, she felt safe, if only for a while.
