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HOGSMEADE was packed with Hogwarts students that weekend.

Athena was one of those students, in awe over the beautiful village she had stepped into for the first time.

Beautiful, white snow covered the grounds, the sound of it getting crushed by Athena's boots making her feel excited for the change of weather and the chill in the air.

"Beautiful, is it not?" Lucinda's lips turned upwards after asking the question, an arm around Athena's as they walked in the village. Druella was on Athena's other side, quiet as usual.

Athena nodded slowly. "Very," admitted the girl quietly.

She liked the village, the shops and cafés it had too. The thing that pressed down on her heart, though, was the fact that it had taken Abraxas himself to make her parents sign that Hogsmeade slip that summer.

The beauty of the village was to be hidden away from her out of spite by her mother, who knew from her own time at Hogwarts how amazing Hogsmeade was.

In a way, it was to make Athena feel left out. Make her miss out on fun, happiness, and genuine friendships.

But Athena always found her way around things she wasn't allowed to do—a trait that came with the cunningness a Slytherin had.

They continued down the path, and Athena could not help but look at it all and take in every detail.

The quaint village, with its cobblestone streets and charming cottages, had been blanketed in a thick layer of soft, white snow. The rooftops were topped with glistening drifts, while icicles hung from the eaves, sparkling in the pale winter sunlight.

Smoke curled lazily from the chimneys, its smell of burning wood from inside the fireplaces of houses lingering in the air.

The windows of the shops, like Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks, glowed warmly, inviting visitors in from the cold. Snowflakes danced through the air, while students laughed and played, throwing snowballs or building snowmen.

Speaking of the Three Broomsticks, Lucinda had led the way there. She pushed open the wooden door for her friends, who both went in after thanking her, and then followed them as they sat down on the seats by a round table—near the window.

"I'll go get us three butterbeers," muttered Druella, standing up. Her blonde hair was curled beautifully, and Athena wondered if perhaps the girl would be meeting up with Cygnus later on.

She got her answer only two minutes later when Cygnus walked over to them, two butterbeers in his hand—both of which he placed on the table with a slight, respectful nod towards the two young ladies. "I trust butterbeer will suffice as an offering for the privilege of spending the day with Druella?" he asked, genuine respect in his tone.

Druella was standing beside him, a hint of a smile on her lips at his respect towards her friends. As if, because they were important to her, they were important to him too.

Lucinda—who had been in the middle of laughing while telling Athena about the Gryffindor she had seen slipping through the window—felt her smile fade away. She gave a curt nod as a reply and took a sip of butterbeer while looking away, hoping that her lack of a voiced answer was hidden by the sip she took from the drink.

Athena's gaze slid to Druella before nodding when she found reassurance in her friend's eyes. "Take good care of her, Black," was all Athena said.

"Of course." Cygnus turned to his betrothed and took her hand, holding it as they walked out together.

They looked really good together, if Athena was being honest. Cygnus's sharp jawline contrasted strikingly with Druella's soft features, his dark hair contrasting elegantly with her golden locks. Yet, their rigid postures mirrored one another perfectly.

And that ring on Druella's hand sure looked good with her stunning, dark green, manicured nails.

Athena finally looked back at her friend, who continued to look out the window quietly. Lucinda's green eyes found the couple that had just left them, making her look away and busy herself by taking another sip of butterbeer.

"Are you alright?" asked Athena softly.

Lucinda merely shrugged, as if that answer was all she could give.

Athena had never been in love before, so she did not know what, exactly, Lucinda felt. She did not know how deep the feeling of heartbreak ran—nor did she want to.

There had been instances at Beauxbatons where both boys and girls had confessed their feelings to her in her third year, after they had finally stopped treating her as if she were beneath them for not being from France, but from elsewhere.

All Athena handed out in return were rejections.

She had been focused on her studies instead and did not want to busy herself by being in a relationship at the mere age of thirteen.

She did not want to learn to love another when she was not sure if she even loved herself.

"She's starting to like him," mumbled Lucinda, more to herself as she tapped her fingers on the table, trying to look like she did not care much.

But Athena could see through it—Lucinda knew that. Her best friend always did.

"I think she's just growing used to him," pointed out Athena with a tilt of her head, a flash of pity passing through her eyes. "It's not like she had another choice."

"She did," replied Lucinda coldly. She looked back at the window again, her heart clenching at the sight of Black putting his coat around the shivering Druella. "She did have a choice."

Athena followed her gaze, then shook her head slowly. "She didn't, Lucinda. She didn't have someone else to choose, except her own parents."

Lucinda was quiet for a moment. Then, she whispered in a low voice, "She had me."

Athena had gotten ready in her dorm hours later, switching out her coat and turtleneck for a wool sweater, and her black pants for a black skirt with black tights underneath, giving her a put-together appearance.

Her bag was slung over her shoulder, a book in her hands, as she reached her usual spot in the library.

With a flick of her hand—instead of her wand this time—she lit the candles before sitting down and opening her book about Gellert Grindelwald.

The words and the story of the cunning man who attended Durmstrang before getting expelled were an inspiration to Athena. Not the expel part. But the fact that Grindelwald had done many, many things to achieve his ends—including stealing the Elder Wand itself, which was believed to be a mere legend.

The book was written by an American wizard, who was tragically killed by Grindelwald shortly after its release. Gellert Grindelwald viewed the work as a profound affront, insisting that his ascent to power was not merely a tale to be exploited for profit, but a narrative meant to be conveyed through the voices of generations.

Athena had read about that in the newspaper in her father's hands a year ago.

This year, he was the subject of even greater discussion, having returned to Britain after spending many years in America, where he had reached the height of his power.

That explained why Athena—and many others—barely had heard of the man before this year. If it were not for her love of knowledge and her intrigue for the dark arts, Athena knew she would not have known much about the man—just like her fellow classmates from other Houses.

She looked away from the words of the book in her hands for a moment, feeling someone's eyes on her. She felt a chill run up her spine, her hair standing as she looked around and found the library nearly empty.

Athena's brows furrowed.

Shaking her head, she looked back at her book, but not before she realized the fact that not even the librarian herself was in the library.

Athena assumed the librarian was probably busy putting the books back on the shelves—as she had seen her often do.

Still, she could not stop the fact that she jumped a little when she heard the chair across from her make a scraping noise as Titus Lestrange pulled it before sitting down on it.

Noting that, Titus frowned in concern. "Are you alright? You look rather shaken up," he noted.

Athena glanced at him once. Twice.

Then, she looked back at her book with pursed lips. So much for ignoring him.

She dismissed that thought when she noticed he awaited her answer. "I'm fine," she easily replied, though her eyes remained on her book.

Titus Lestrange gave her a mere, slow nod. Noticing the fact that her hair was pulled back by a bow, he felt his lips twitch. "Your hair looks beautiful," he complimented.

And it did—to him, at least.

Not to Athena, who had tried her hardest to keep herself from looking in the mirror every day. As if only remembering the fact that her hair was not the color she so dearly loved broke her more than she let on.

Yet, the blonde remained.

And she despised every strand of it.

So, Athena hummed as a reply, knowing she could not thank him for reminding her of her hair. Instead, she continued to read, her dismissive reply being obvious.

"I would keep an eye on the company you keep, Ms. Malfoy."

Titus slowly frowned, as if he could read the emotion that passed through her eyes. He opened his mouth, dejected, but closed it. He looked at her—noting her beauty, seeing her pursed lips that had been painted its usual dark red.

He cleared his throat and stood. He had enough self-respect to realize when he was not wanted. "I'll leave you to your book, then." Titus glanced at the clock that chimed in the corner, right by the window. "It's getting late, though, Malfoy. Hogwarts is dangerous at this time nowadays."

Athena finally looked at him—pinning him in place with that cold stare.

Titus realized it, his brows furrowing in confusion at it.

"Why were you there?" She finally asked the question she had been thinking of for a week and a half. Athena stood up and took a step closer, a frown on her beautiful face. "We did not take the usual route taken by the Slytherins to get to the common room, Lestrange."

Titus stilled, her words making his lips part in shock.

She was not thinking it was his doing—was she?

But staring into those beautiful hazel eyes, Titus knew she was.

He closed his mouth and put his hands in his black pants, shaking his head in disbelief, a flash of hurt passing through his eyes.

"I took that route because it was quicker and less known, Malfoy. I assumed the quicker I got you to the common room, the safer you would be." He continued to stare at her, his words soft despite the accusation weighing on him. "And I was right to do so, considering what we walked in on."

Athena crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "You don't think I actually believe that, do you?" she flatly asked.

"I do not care if you do or not," lied Titus immediately.

Then, he slowly shook his head, disappointment written on his features—and hurt—hurt over the fact that his words merely made her roll her eyes. "Malfoy, I know how smart you are. Because of this, I will leave the library, and I assume you are going to follow me, knowing what danger is spreading in Hogwarts. Come with me; I cannot leave you alone at this hour."

Athena stared at him for another moment, then glanced at the clock behind her.

It was late, in fact.

Curfew was in five minutes.

Getting to the Slytherin common room would take at least ten.

With a sigh, she nodded and put her book in her bag.

She had gotten half an hour of reading done, at least—enough for her to feel satisfied for another hour before wanting to finish reading.

She slung the bag over her shoulder and looked towards the door down at the very end of the library.

"Are you waiting for me to lead the way, Malfoy?"

Athena raised an eyebrow again. "I wait for no man, Lestrange."

Titus could not stop the amusement passing across his face, but followed her when she walked down the library.

Watching her not wait up, but quicken her pace instead, made him almost sigh.

He held it in, though, and knew that his father's instruction on keeping his emotions in check and masked came in clutch at times like these.

Or else Athena Malfoy might've realized the effect she had on him.

"Shit," mumbled the boy when he bumped into her back, confused at the fact that she stopped as he stepped away and rubbed his chest.

The confusion quickly faded away and was replaced by horror when he realized what made her stop.

A petrified Ravenclaw girl was on the ground, her hand raised as if she had been holding a book, but her mouth parted as if she had tried to scream at the horror she must've seen.