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DINNER the next night was as marvelous as ever. The Great Hall was filled with students and teachers, all enjoying the food while the floating candles above them lit up the entire hall.

Conversations flew from one table to another, everyone happy that they managed to finish another day of classes.

Athena couldn't help but marvel at the house-elves' cooking skills. The gravy was so rich, so perfect, that she almost wanted to grab a second helping just to drown herself in it.

She glanced at her plate, spooning another heaping bite of the thick brown sauce onto her mashed potatoes and chicken.

"This is too good," she sighed dreamily, the taste of the gravy still on her tongue after she swallowed it.

Looking across from her, she knew Dorian Nott was thinking the exact same thing, and so was Lucinda herself.

Abraxas, meanwhile, seemed to be in a conversation with Riddle, who hadn't even bothered to look at her after he sat down across from her.

Beside her was Druella, who was in a conversation of her own with Cygnus Black, who appeared to be listening to every word his betrothed was saying.

Athena wondered if the two were finally in love.

On her other side was Antonin Dolohov, who was stabbing into his piece of chicken with his fork with more force than necessary. He seemed to have not taken a single bite of his food.

"Are you alright?" asked Athena with furrowed brows, tilting her head at Antonin.

Antonin, who seemed shocked that he was asked that, blinked. Still, he nodded curtly, then shook his head.

"Later," he whispered to the only friend of his that ever asked if he was alright.

"Later?" Athena pressed, her voice soft but persistent, offering him a skeptical look. Her eyebrows arched in silent challenge, her expression saying really?

He gave her a thin, tight-lipped smile. "Later," he repeated, almost inaudible, before he went back to his food—though his eyes remained distant, focused on something far beyond the roast chicken on his plate.

Athena nodded understandingly and went back to her food.

However, the spoonful of peas she put in her mouth tasted nothing like the wonderful gravy, and she had to stop herself from spitting it out—swallowing it with as much grace as she could muster after eating the horrendous green things.

"I know right!" Dorian's eyes widened in agreement, who was looking at Athena the whole time as she ate the peas. "It's disgusting. I swear, I think I saw Potter and Lupin sneaking into the kitchens to put something in it!"

Lucinda rolled her eyes in playful exasperation, shaking her head fondly at Dorian. "I highly doubt that, Nott," she said.

"Besides," said Abraxas after finishing his conversation with Riddle and leaning in. "Nott has his head so far shoved up his arse that he can't even see what's in front of him, let alone notice those two sneaking into the kitchens—"

Dorian's face reddened, and he raised his fork in mock offense. "I will shove this fork up your arse, Malfoy—!"

"Kids!" Druella's voice was sharp with disapproval, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and amusement.

Athena had to turn her snort into a cough, sharing a look with a grinning Lucinda.

Riddle, who had been quietly eating, looked up at the noise. His gaze caught Athena's, and for a fleeting moment, their eyes locked. There was no smile, no acknowledgment of their interaction from the night before.

His gaze lingered before he turned away with a slight shake of his head.

Cygnus Black raised an eyebrow at the boys, who were now engaged in a heated exchange. "Did he eat your licorice wand, Nott?" he asked, his tone amused. He didn't seem to be in any particular hurry to stop the bickering.

Dorian opened his mouth to retort but was immediately cut off by Abraxas, who rolled his eyes. "I didn't eat it. You bought him two dozen, anyway. Even if I had, he wouldn't have noticed."

Antonin snorted, the first sign of any emotion from him since the meal began. "Do you honestly think Nott wouldn't notice his sweets gone? He'd notice if you so much as breathed in the wrong direction near them."

Dorian rolled his eyes, though a faint blush covered his cheeks when he remembered who, exactly, ate his licorice wands. The night he spent with Isadora Flint, both of them huddled under a blanket in the Astronomy Tower eating licorice wands, was his favorite memory so far.

He ignored them and went back to glaring at Abraxas, getting into a hushed bickering conversation.

Lucinda, who was between them, darted her eyes side to side, using her hands to cover her ears at the profanities getting sent back and forth from the boys at her sides.

Athena had to refrain from laughing again, but she could not stop the small twitch of her lips. She turned her attention back to her food, swallowing a piece of chicken a moment later.

Her thoughts wandered, all the way back to the classes of the day and the Potions essay she had to write that night.

Professor Slughorn seemed to forget about the Slug Club that year, and Athena could not help but feel grateful—and she knew her friends felt the same way.

As for her Transfigurations essay she handed in that morning, she remembered the way Professor Dumbledore's gaze lingered on her a moment longer than anyone else. And when Athena pretended not to notice, Dumbledore finally looked away and carried on explaining to the class.

Athena shook her head, stopping herself from sighing.

She looked down the Slytherin table, feeling a pang in her chest when she noticed Titus Lestrange with Vivian Greengrass, both of them huddled together and laughing after he made a joke.

Yes, Athena was the one who rejected him.

But she could not help but feel longing for the love the two shared, and she wondered if maybe she would have had that love had she not rejected him.

Yet, she knew deep down that she would never be able to look at Titus Lestrange the way Vivian Greengrass did.

So full of love.

So full of life.

Not able to handle it any longer, Athena looked away and stabbed the piece of chicken in front of her with more force than necessary.

As if feeling someone's eyes on her, she looked up and made eye contact with Riddle again.

He was watching her with those cold, penetrating eyes, studying her every move, his jaw clenched tight. His gaze flickered down to her fork, to the couple her eyes were on, then to her face, before he looked away, his thoughts obviously far more complex than he was willing to show.

Athena wondered why Riddle seemed so off about her looking at Lestrange.

The Slytherin common room was silent during midnight.

Athena, who had just gotten back from patrolling the corridors with Riddle, sighed as soon as she sat down on the couch by the fireplace.

She was tired from yet another night of bickering with the boy who hated her just as much as she hated him.

Again, Riddle did not accept her help whenever she offered, so she was left sitting in the damn corridors as if she wasn't as much of a prefect as him!

And even when Athena tried pushing her way into helping—checking the classes to see if they could catch any students out of bed—he would go on a whole rant about how she wasn't even needed and was "merely an inconvenience."

She hadn't replied then.

She became quiet right after that, and could not help but feel a pang in her chest at his words.

Even though she had heard those very same words her whole life by her family, it was different when someone who wasn't even related to her said such hurtful things.

Riddle did not even look at her again as he walked up the staircase leading to the boys' dormitories, obviously wanting to get as far away from her as soon as possible.

She could not help but feel the same.

Though, her worry for Antonin—who had been sitting on the couch long before she walked into the common room—remained. So she sat beside him, in hopes of reminding him that she was available should he ever need someone to talk to.

Because she knew what he was going through. Everyone in their friend group did, though they did not mention it to the boy—as if not wanting to remind Antonin Dolohov of the pain in his heart.

But Athena knew there was no "reminding him" when he never even forgot it in the first place.

"You do not have to sit and pretend you care for my thoughts," mumbled Antonin, gazing into the lit fireplace in front of them.

She glanced at him, noting the short sleeves he was wearing. Almost as if the boy forgot it was December, and Yule was soon.

She doubted he cared about himself at the moment, though, so she kept her thoughts to herself.

Instead, she replied with a look, "I do care, Dolohov." She sighed and followed his gaze, noting the flickering flames inside the fireplace and liking the warmth it gave.

He swallowed, tears quickly prickling his eyes, but he did not let them fall. "My mother... she's getting worse," his voice cracked.

Athena did not look at him, because she knew the pity her gaze held at that moment. And knowing Slytherins, they all hated when someone pitied them.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and meant it.

She was sorry he had to go through that.

Even more, she was sorry he was losing the one parent that he actually loved.

"So am I," replied Antonin quietly.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, swallowing yet again.

Unlike all his other friends, Athena seemed more mature, more understanding. More empathetic, even.

And he could not help but sigh, closing his eyes and thanking Merlin as he realized that maybe he finally had a friend who cared about him.

A friend who obviously would go out of her way to listen to him.