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THE days passed by. Slytherin won the final Quidditch match of the year, beating Ravenclaw. Athena did not attend a single game throughout the entire year.

Her focus was always on beating Riddle—whom she was still tied with in their potion-making skills, in their tests, in their spells, and in everything they competed against each other.

It boiled her blood. She felt the rage after every tie, and she could tell that he did too.

She could see it in the flames that erupted in his eyes after seeing the grade on her parchment each time, showing the same number as his. One hundred. Never less, and of course—not that it was possible—never more.

Both were the best. Both were the top students. They shared that title.

And they despised it.

Sharing that title did not bring them pride or satisfaction. It did the opposite. It made Athena feel low—low that a half-blood could tie with her. Sure, Riddle studied as much as she did, if not more, but that did not mean he was smarter.

So, like the last three times, instead of joining the party in the Slytherin common room after their biggest win of the year, Athena left with her bag slung over her shoulder—determined to make it to the library after the tie she had with Riddle the day before in Professor Galatea Merrythought's class. Again.

Their academic rivalry was nothing but amusement to the professors, except for Professor Dumbledore—who always seemed to have his eyes on Athena. She could feel the calculation in his gaze, and over time, she noticed he was doing the same with Riddle.

Maybe that was why Riddle's hatred for the man existed.

Finally smelling the familiar scent of books, Athena made her way to her usual spot. Finding it empty, she sat down with a satisfied smile and took out her belongings from her bag. She dipped her quill into the opened bottle of black ink, about to start writing on the empty parchment in front of her, but turned to her right and gazed out the window for a moment.

The beautiful snow that had covered the Hogwarts grounds was gone, marking spring's bloom and arrival. Athena hated it. She loved winter—wearing a warm sweater as the rain poured from the sky while she read. But that was gone, and as soon as it did, Athena longed for it once again like she did every year.

The flowers were brighter than usual, showing off their beauty as the sun shone on them.

Athena finally looked back at the parchment in front of her and started writing the assignment that was due next week. Her focus was fully on the scratching sound her quill made as it made contact with the parchment, her attention only on her neat cursive handwriting.

Hearing footsteps, she glanced up and immediately rolled her eyes, taking a deep breath in an effort to calm herself. She hadn't had a proper conversation—not that she wanted to—with Riddle since the Slug Club party two months ago. Those two months were filled with blissful silence, the only contact between them being glares, little insults under their breath, and comparing their marks as soon as they had them in their hands.

"I'm not particularly happy to see you here either, Malfoy." Riddle, who had just walked into the library with a book in his hand, also rolled his eyes and glanced around the library.

Unlike usual, it was completely full—a result of the upcoming end-of-year exams that were going to happen in a few months. Athena herself was trying not to stress, instead distracting herself with the present.

"Then leave," she shot back immediately, turning back to the nearly finished parchment.

Riddle clenched his jaw, though she didn't notice. He took a deep breath, almost as if the words he was going to say next pained him. "I would, except that the library is completely packed with no other seats, Malfoy."

"I'm not giving up mine, if that's what you're asking." She scoffed at the thought without even looking up.

"No," he confirmed and turned to the desk to his left—next to the window. There was only one young Ravenclaw seated there—her nose buried in the book in front of her, her back hunched over. "You will, though, won't you?"

Athena looked up, then followed his gaze. The Ravenclaw girl had brown hair pulled into two pigtails and wore glasses. Athena recognized her immediately—the Ravenclaw who was perpetually tormented by other students. Athena might have felt a twinge of empathy, but her indifference was steadfast, given that the girl was Muggle-born.

The Ravenclaw looked up, swallowed, and put the book in her bag before rushing away with tears in her eyes.

Riddle seemed uncaring, putting his book on the now-empty desk before sitting down in the chair. He glanced at Athena from the corner of his eye and frowned with a sneer. "What?" he snapped.

"Why are you not at the party instead of terrorizing young girls, Riddle?" Athena asked with a glare, wanting nothing more than for him to leave the library and be out of her sight.

Riddle, however, enjoyed her annoyance. She could tell by the way the corner of his lips twitched up in a smirk. "That's Myrtle Warren, a Mudblood. Does Athena Malfoy care for Mudbloods?" he asked with a tilt of his head and a raised brow, almost as if daring her to disagree.

She immediately clenched her jaw, his comment offending her more than his existence—which was a surprise.

"No, Riddle. It's just ironic how you despise a Mudblood when you're a half-blood yourself."

His smirk turned into a glare immediately, which Athena delighted in. "Malfoy, if you call me that ever again, you are going to regret it."

She threw her head back and laughed mockingly at the empty threat. When she was finally done laughing, she noticed his fuming face. "Your threats are as empty as the meaning of your existence, Riddle."

"I'm not the one whose existence was unwanted, Malfoy." Riddle's glare never left her face, his words as cold as ice and as sharp as a knife.

And Athena could feel it slowly poking her heart, but she did not show it. Instead, she gave him a mocking smile. "And I'm not the one who lives in an orphanage."

Riddle's lips curled into a sneer before he swiftly regained his composure and directed a chilling gaze towards her, unwilling to show any reaction to her comment. Instead of wasting time arguing with that detestable girl, he turned towards his book and opened it. However, when he noticed her satisfied smirk, he turned to her and opened his mouth, about to say something cold and hurtful—

But his attention was abruptly diverted when Albus Dumbledore appeared between the two bookshelves in front of them, as if he had been there all along.

Judging by Athena's tense figure, she seemed to be thinking the same thing, staring at the professor with a frown on her face.

Professor Albus Dumbledore, having overheard Tom's cutting remark about Athena's existence being unwanted and Athena's scathing retort about Tom being an orphan, watched the exchange with a deep, pained understanding. After a moment of surprised silence from the two students at his unexpected presence, he stepped forward, his voice steady but laced with quiet authority.

"Enough," Dumbledore said, his eyes meeting both of theirs with a piercing gaze. "It is clear that neither of you have anything productive to add to this conversation."

Tom, his face twisted with anger, sneered. "And what do you know about it, Professor? This is between us," he immediately replied, rage consuming him at the eavesdropping.

Professor Dumbledore's gaze remained steady. "I know that bitterness and insults will not lead to anything constructive. They only serve to deepen the divide between you."

Athena, her face flushed with embarrassment and frustration, muttered, "I didn't mean—"

Dumbledore raised a hand gently to silence her. "It is not about what was meant or not meant. It is about the harm that words can inflict. I urge both of you to consider this before speaking so harshly again."

Tom's expression hardened, but he fell silent, while Athena nodded reluctantly, the weight of Dumbledore's words settling over her. The air between them was heavy, but the moment of reflection offered a glimmer of potential for understanding.

And as Professor Albus Dumbledore gave them one last look—a look of disappointment—he turned around and finally left without any other words or waiting to hear a reply from them.

But one thing about Slytherins was their deep, irrevocable stubbornness.

So, Athena turned to her side and glared at Tom Riddle.

Riddle was focused on Dumbledore's departure, his face still twisted with anger and hatred.

Noticing her glare at last, he rolled his eyes and sneered back. "Go back to your assignment, Malfoy. You'll need every moment you can get, because I guarantee you, I'll surpass your mark this time."

Athena did not reply this time. She turned to her assignment, motivation and spite pushing her more than her parents ever did, as she held her quill again and continued writing.

Druella Rosier cast a final glance at her right side, where Cygnus Black lay soundly asleep. Her eyes swept over the disheveled dorm, a pang of acceptance settling in as she saw the clothes scattered on the floor.

Slowly, she gathered herself, dressing with deliberate movements and adjusting her reflection in the mirror. Her gaze lingered on the sleeping boy, and as her thoughts wandered, a quiet hurt intertwined with the resignation in her heart.

It was not forced, no.

It was mutual.

In fact, she had initiated what they had done.

But one reminder was enough for her to leave his empty dorm that he shared with Riddle, Abraxas, Nott, and Dolohov—all of whom were at the party, except probably Riddle.

The thought of making her family proud. The thought of continuing her pure bloodline.

She closed the door behind her and walked down the staircase, then up the one that led to her dorm that she shared with Lucinda and Athena, wanting nothing more than to sleep.

She did it for her family– the one thought that kept repeating in her mind as she changed into comfortable silk pajamas before laying in her bed and closing her eyes.

She did it for her family.

She would do anything for her family.

And she had to make sure Cygnus would not want anyone else. No, that would be too much of a scandal. She had to keep her family's name clean, pure, and powerful.