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THE Daily Prophet in Athena's hands was being read by her during breakfast. The chill December air had made its way to even the Great Hall, where students had extra layers of clothing on. Athena had on her black coat over her Slytherin robe.

She chewed on the scrambled eggs she had put in her mouth, her eyes following every word in the newspaper as she read about Gellert Grindelwald being spotted in Knockturn Alley—the alley that was behind Diagon Alley itself, where dark artifacts, books, and other forbidden things were sold.

The doors of the Great Hall opened, making all the students quiet for a split second before the owls flew in with letters in their beaks—disrupting the silence, which turned into excited chatter from students receiving letters from their parents.

Athena rolled her eyes and went back to reading the Daily Prophet.

Lucinda, who was pouring orange juice for herself, smiled when the brown owl of her mother's reached her. She took the two letters from its beak and ran her finger through its feathers before cooing, "Hello, beautiful."

Druella had received a letter as well from her own family's owl. Unlike Lucinda, she seemed tense as she took the letter and opened it, her eyes roaming over the demands from her mother to be around Cygnus more often—as if she weren't betrothed to him already. She tried not to roll her eyes after finishing the letter, folding it in half and putting it into her bag instead, planning to write back later on.

Athena, meanwhile, had gotten no letter. The Malfoy family owl had flown right past her and to the end of the table, placing itself in front of Abraxas.

Abraxas ripped open the letter and read it, his brows furrowing as if in surprise. He then glanced at his sister.

Athena looked back at him, frowning in confusion, especially when her brother stood up, left Riddle and his other friends, and made his way to her.

She tried to ignore him by taking a sip of her black coffee and putting the fork with more scrambled eggs into her mouth. Abraxas gave both Druella and Lucinda respectful nods before looking at his sister, who was ignoring him.

"Athena, we've got to talk."

Athena rolled her eyes before turning to him. Noticing the letter still in his hands, she looked back at him. "What, Abraxas? I'm busy eating."

"Eating can wait," he replied, giving her a look and motioning toward the corridor out of the Great Hall. "Follow me, Athena. We've got to talk. This cannot wait even a minute longer." He turned away from her and walked out of the Great Hall, not bothering to check if she was following him. One of his hands was in his pocket, confidence showing in every step he took.

The Heir whose words were always considered. Always followed.

Athena could not stop the thought of not following him out of spite that crossed her mind.

But maybe it was the urgency in his voice that made Athena look at her friends and say, "I'll see you both in Transfigurations," before getting up and leaving with her bag slung over her shoulder, following her brother.

She did not bother pretending she wasn't hearing the whispers trailing behind her down the Slytherin table from her fellow housemates, all of whom were looking at her with a mixture of confusion and disdain over the fact that her hair was not blonde anymore.

A Pureblood who had no pride in her family's name.

Athena shot them glares, her pace quickening.

She was glad when she was finally out of the Great Hall and found Abraxas down the corridor, where he stood waiting for her.

"What?" she snapped immediately as soon as she reached him.

But Abraxas made her follow him even further as he walked down the corridor.

Soon enough, they found an empty classroom, and he shut the door behind them after walking inside.

Athena crossed her arms and impatiently tapped her foot. When he held up the letter, her tapping ceased, and her gaze followed the sentence he was pointing to.

"Athena is to be back at Malfoy Manor this Yule with you—" Written in their mother's neat cursive.

Athena's arms fell to her sides as she reached a hand to grab the letter from him.

He let her, noting the widening of her eyes, and put both of his hands in his pockets as she read the letter.

He also noticed the way her lips curled in disdain after she realized the whole letter was about him, except the last line that demanded Athena's return for the upcoming Yule.

"Why?" Athena looked at him and shook her head. He merely shrugged, and that action alone changed her fear into anger. She shoved the letter right at his chest, causing him to stumble back a step. "Why?!"

The demand in her tone made Abraxas still, taking the letter she had shoved at him. He put the now-folded parchment into his bag and frowned.

"Athena, they are worried about the petrifications happening and your safety—"

"Bullshit!" Athena swore, not bothering to stop her voice from rising.

His eyes flashed at her rising temper, but he showed it in the clench of his jaw and the tone of his voice as he coldly said, "Stop acting like a child, Athena. This is why our parents have always deemed you as a kid."

She did not stop her jaw from dropping. Athena quickly composed herself and swallowed, her nostrils flaring as she did so.

"You know nothing." She shook her head, disappointment and outrage seeping through her words and eyes as she stared at him. "Nothing, Abraxas."

And he really didn't.

He did not know about the torture Athena had gone through thrice at the hands of their mother, the words and neglect she had faced all these years.

To Abraxas, it was her own immaturity that explained their mother's anger towards her and their father's ignorance.

To Abraxas, Athena was in the wrong.

Because Abraxas knew nothing.

Not when he was forced to focus on himself, his Heir title, his Malfoy name that he would inherit.

Not when he was told by their father to focus only on what the Malfoy name would bring—the stress, the wealth, the reputation.

Not when he was forced to read books on Purebloods and their traditions, on how to act like a proper Pureblood heir—that would one day turn into Lord Malfoy himself.

Most of all, not when Athena despised him so much that she didn't tell him anything.

And yet, Abraxas also did not know the fact that Athena did not tell him because she knew how much he loved their parents. Knew how much he looked up to their father and promised their mother greatness.

Not when his whole life was spent trying to make their parents proud.

To be their parents' pride.

Athena had tried to be the pride herself. She had tried it in her perfect grades and results. She had tried it in gaining their parents' attention from a young age, and always failed to do so.

She had noticed her failure at the mere age of seven, then eight, then nine, and every year after.

To their parents, Athena was nothing.

To their parents, Abraxas was everything.

"I know enough," spat Abraxas, his words holding years of rage at her immaturity. He looked her up and down, curling his lip at her. "Let go of that attitude, Athena. And that wretched black hair of yours. Mother will not be happy."

He had known about their mother's obvious disdain that summer over the mere color of her hair.

But he did not know the cause of it.

"I hope she won't be," Athena smiled mockingly in an effort to suppress her true emotions.

But looking at his pale face, his blue eyes, his blonde hair—was enough for Athena to show them.

His similarity to their parents, to the Malfoy name he upheld, was obvious.

Unlike her.

Her jet-black hair, which was now an offense to their mother after more than a decade, was a spit in the face of the 'Malfoy' part of her name.

And she insisted on proving it in every way she defied their parents.

Abraxas shook his head in annoyance and disappointment. "You will one day learn our parents' sacrifices for us, Athena."

She rolled her eyes and walked to the door. "If they could, I would be another sacrifice for them, Abraxas." Athena turned her head back after putting a hand over the doorknob and finished, "To get out of your way and theirs. Them sending me to Beauxbatons was proof."

Abraxas did not stop her from opening the door and leaving.

Athena was in no mood to deal with Riddle and his demeanor of cold confidence.

Not when she had spent the first class of the day, Transfigurations, trying to keep up with the professor who had been teaching the class instead of Dumbledore for the past few months.

Not when she had spent the other classes—Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes, and History of Magic—trying to focus instead of thinking about what she could do to avoid spending Yule in the manor she dreaded.

So when she sat down beside him at the end of the day during their last class, Potions, she shot him a glare.

"Riddle, if you actually put that in right now instead of Armadillo Bile that we're supposed to put—"

He did not even glance at her when he did exactly what she had warned him not to do.

He cleaned the remaining Ground Scarab Beetles that had stayed in his palm instead of getting into the potion with a wave of his hand.

Catching her glare, Riddle smirked. "You do not know as much about Potions as you think, Malfoy. Read the instructions; you're supposed to put the beetles after the Armadillo Bile and before adding more Armadillo Bile."

"It's supposed to turn red—" She stopped when she noticed the potion they were making turn red.

She knew he had a mocking smile on his face—could feel it without even looking at him.

"Ah, my two brightest stars!" Professor Slughorn exclaimed, his eyes twinkling with delight as he stood in front of them and looked into their cauldron, his smile widening after noticing their success. "It's a joy to see you both collaborating so effortlessly! Truly a sight for sore eyes!"

Yet he was not there to hear their bickering some lessons, their taunts in others, and silence in the remaining lessons.

And he did not notice the muscle in Riddle's jaw tick, nor the glare Athena shot him.

"We are delighted to work together, sir," Riddle gritted out through his teeth, and Athena could've sworn his eye twitched in annoyance.

At least he was as annoyed over working with her as she was. At least it brought him the same amount of annoyance as it brought her—if not even more.

Athena had the decency to hide it sometimes. Riddle barely did.

"Well, do remember that the Slug Club will be hosting another delightful dinner after Yule," Professor Slughorn said, his smile growing impossibly wide. He turned to Athena, his expression bright with curiosity. "Will you be returning to Malfoy Manor this Yule, my dear? Abraxas has already mentioned his plans, but I was wondering if you might consider staying here, like Tom and a few other Slytherins. I'm planning a charming little get-together for those who remain, and it simply wouldn't be the same without you!"

Athena gave him a polite smile despite the anxiety bubbling within her at the answer she was about to give. "I would've been delighted to join, sir, but I actually am going to be returning this Yule." She turned to Riddle and felt her anxiety turn to satisfaction at the growing annoyance in his eyes. "Riddle here has nowhere to go, so I assume he is delighted enough for the both of us to attend."

Riddle's eyes flashed dangerously.

He glared at her in outrage, while Slughorn chuckled awkwardly.

"Well, perhaps next time, Athena," Professor Slughorn said, glancing across the classroom and shaking his head at a pair of students squabbling over ingredients for their cauldron. "I must see to their potions before they create a small explosion! But do consider attending the other dinner after Yule; it would be simply splendid to have you there!"

"I wouldn't miss it, sir," replied Athena politely.

When Slughorn left the pair and rushed to the Gryffindor side of the classroom, busy with the other students, Riddle's glare continued to pierce through her.

"It's no wonder you're an afterthought. Honestly, I'd be surprised if you could even be called a thought." He seized the mixer from the cauldron, his movements tight with tension, anger coursing through him.

She watched as he mixed the potion, and raised an eyebrow, boredom etched on her perfect face as she replied, "We're more alike than we thought, then, Riddle."

The words made him slowly look at her again, and realization coursed through him like a blade, his thoughts finding every similarity between them.

She was his equal in way, way more ways than he had thought.

He was her equal in way, way more ways than she had thought.

And Athena knew he was thinking the same thing when she looked into his black eyes—eyes that narrowed at her as a threat.

She paid him no mind and continued to read the instructions from her potions textbook, then glanced at the Armadillo Bile she was supposed to put in at that moment.

So she did.

And ignored Riddle's sharp gaze that continued to follow her movements.

"You're fortunate the basilisk only targets Mudbloods," Riddle whispered, leaning in so close his breath brushed her ear. He reveled in her stillness, a cruel satisfaction washing over him. "Everyone loathes you enough that you'd be the first to fall."

Athena slowly looked at him, eyes widening in what Riddle thought was due to his cruel words.

But he froze when she asked, "How do you know the monster is a basilisk, Riddle?"

Riddle quickly regained his composure, scoffing with feigned offense. "You're not the only one researching the happenings at Hogwarts, Malfoy." He then grabbed his own potions book and flipped to the page of the Wit-Sharpening potion, which was the potion the students were in the middle of making.

Athena rolled her eyes and shook her head in annoyance.

A Mudblood was petrified that night.

While Athena was packing reluctantly for the upcoming Yule, Lucinda had broken the news to her and Druella. Druella seemed disinterested, muttering about how Mudbloods deserved it anyway.

While Athena outright ignored them, her thoughts focused on what was only a week away: Yule.

She knew she could not get out of it—knew Abraxas would not help her after the argument they had in that empty classroom. Her only option was to tell him what was actually going on, but Athena had never asked for help.

Why should she start now?

She was Athena Ravena Malfoy. And she would not ask for help.

She would not lower herself for something that could not be changed.

Not even Abraxas himself, Heir of the Malfoy name, could stop their mother's cruelty that was always aimed at her.

So Athena packed and tried to find courage within her as she did so.

She tried to tell herself it would only be two weeks of it, and she would try to stay out of trouble during it. She tried to tell herself she was brave enough.

But she was not a Gryffindor. She did not have their bravery.

She would never.

Not even if she wished for it and would beg whoever was up there for it. Would get on her knees and beg any god, even Merlin himself, for an ounce of the bravery Gryffindors always had.

But she was a Slytherin.

As much as some part of her whispered at her to get on her knees and beg whoever was up there for help—beg Abraxas himself to listen to what she was going through—Athena would rather have died.

She was a Slytherin.

And Slytherins did not beg. Nor kneel.