◤ ❝Love slowly transforms into the bitter question of how much you are willing to give up for the ones you love. Our instinct to flee when we know we cannot win is the reason why it's so hard for us to love others. We know that if we get too close, our lives are in danger. That is the true test. If you find someone that you are willing to die for, then you have found someone you would die without. It is only the beginning to a very tragic end.❞ ― Celicia Erebus ◢

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CHAPTER TWO: HECATE

August 21, 1996

The Dark Arts were a fragile form of magic. Not because it was, by any means, a practice for the weak, but because of how much caution one should take when preforming the illegal acts. Ironic, as well, given that most witches and wizards involved in the Dark Arts were anything but fragile. Possibly wicked, but not—by definition—delicate. The Arts were not just. Not right. Build for the inevitably damned and sought out by the incredibly insane, their best attribute was exposed in the very name: darkness. A chapter in the Wizarding History so petrifying that classes were taught in defense against it.

It was also one of the most alluring parts of having magic. All forms of magic could be stretched with practice and patience, but some craved more than that. The thrill to be better than all others. A need to have more than what the lesser society with magic had. To some, the Dark Arts were pure. Pure, and fragile, and dark, and everything that eventually came to represent the Dark Lord's side of the war.

Andromeda always had an interest in the Dark Arts. Even with the assumptions that the interest came because she was a Slytherin or because her father was a Death Eater, she knew that she would have eventually found her way back to the practice. Ravenclaw, Huffepuff, Gryffindor, muggleborn—she was too invested in the Dark Arts to pretend that there was a larger influence involved. Her love of history may have had something to do with it. Seeing as the only thing that saved her education at Hogwarts for so long was her love for reading, tracing that love back to dozens of books she'd read about the Dark Arts was not too far off target. Multiple nights reading about the Unforgivable curses caused her excitement to swell when Barty Crouch Jr. taught them their fourth year. Paragraphs and paragraphs about Horcruxes made her look at the Dark Lord in a different way that she had before. The captivation of seeing just how much the Art affected its users was undeniably obsessing.

After her father died, her peculiar interest twisted into something malevolent. Before, it was always nothing more than a hobby of hers when she wasn't busy with classwork. She was sure that no one else even knew of her intrigue. Not even her mother was aware of the enchantment she placed on the books of jinxes, hexes, and curses to hide them. As far as anyone was aware, she was a young witch who knew when to speak and when to keep her mouth shut. Then, the war began. No longer did she see Avada Kedavra as two meaningless words. No, they became all too real to her after that. Imperio was no longer a meaningless game of playing a puppeteer to an unknowing victim. It was a means of control. Dominance. It was also the only reason why her father's name was written as innocent in the mess of the war.

The Cruciatus Curse was a different kind of malevolence for Andromeda after losing her father. It was about more than just killing and more than just playing. It was maddening. The perfect act of vengeance. Once upon a time, she never would have thought of using a curse on another witch or wizard. Yes, she did feel an invigorating high when she saw it acted upon another, but never did she think she had the heart to hurt another person in an excruciating manner—a word that molded appropriately for the torture... then, Bellatrix Lestrange pointed her wand Mia's way and told her to deflect. No matter how stellar one may be a magic, the Dark Arts were created to harm someone. Even the most brilliant struggle to block themselves when the passion is strong enough. In which case, Bellatrix had enough reason to take her anger out on the only child of whom she saw to be a traitor to her Lord.

She learned firsthand why they were so unforgivable. She, also, learned something even more frightening. By the time she was finally able to block Bellatrix's curses, the anger inside of her was coating itself over the pain. A hard shell. Even when she fell to her knees, a festering heat made its way into her mind. Slick and callously, with a head out of the window and a heart in the dirt, she returned the days of torture onto an unsuspecting victim. It was not that Andromeda—for the first time—performed an Unforgivable curse on another Death Eater that won Bellatrix over. It was that the pain was not short. Not a moment, like most would be able to apply under blind rage. Her anger was not righteous. Not a means of retribution. She was unforgiving, and that was when she no longer had to read about the Dark Arts. She became a part of them.

How she felt that day turned out to be another reason why she was so close with Draco. He understood. Above all of the flaws in him, he understood. The small thrill that came with learning something others their age couldn't even dream of attempting. The invigoration of questioning if the Ministry noticed the blimp of underage magic—if they even cared (Draco quickly changed views after receiving the Mark). It was a lustful, seductive attraction to darkness. They didn't have to ask questions to know that they both thought the same thing and wanted it even more. And she was grateful for that. To some extent, it made her feel more human. He gave her what she needed to know that she was not entirely insane. That she was not completely at fault for feeling so strongly about what others feared, and that she was not so wrong for wanting the world to pay for the damage it had done to her family.

"None of these books say anything about fixing a disgusting, rotting cabinet as old as Merlin himself," Draco said, breaking the silence between the two of them as he grumbled into the dusty pages of yet another book of spells. "You would think that filth like Goshawk would have enough time on her hands to write something useful instead of trash like bird-conjuring."

Andromeda, sitting only a few inches away, gave up a while ago on resisting the desire to roll her eyes at the boy's complaining. They had been sitting on the floor of her guest room long enough for her to feel a crick forming in her neck, and the migraine settling in her temple was being assisted by the incessant and angry flipping of pages from her counterpart.

"Goshawk's trash is the only reason you weren't kicked out of Hogwarts your first year, you git. If you're going to blame anyone, blame the Weasel twins for shoving Montague into the thing and breaking it to splinters in the first place... and ruining all of the books before we have the chance to read them goes against the purpose of them helping us, Draco."

Draco looked up from Goshawk's Book of Spells to give her a dark stare at how she chastised him, one that she received enough times to just shrug off. "The entire pile would be ash right now if I wanted to ruin it, Romy. All we have are these useless books, and if we get to Hogwarts and none of them work, we're back to being as dead as Saint Potter. Even Borgins said that it was practically an impossible task. Do you even know what that means for us, or are you only concerned about making sure you're the perfect, little witch to be teacher's pet? Going to take some tips from Granger when we get back, are we?"

But no matter how much Draco understood her, she still wanted to kill him sometimes. Most of the time, actually. Him even thinking for a second that she wasn't just as focused on their main task was absurd. She was the one spending late hours trying to figure out everything about a bloody cabinet. That didn't even include the time that she spent reading ways to try and fix the damn thing. The mission that the Dark Lord told her to accomplish on her own was of importance, yes, but that didn't make it her top priority. She didn't need to know how to be a perfect witch to convince Horace Slughorn that she was prized enough to be in his stupid Slug Club. All she needed was enough reason to convince him that she had no involvement with the Death Eaters or what they supported. That was the challenge, seeing as she would be reminded of the lie every time she moved her left arm.

"Practically," Mia repeated, reaching forward to push her palm down on the book to stop his flipping. He glowered at the action. "We have until June. Letting it get to your head before we've even begun is only going to set us farther back. When we get to school, we'll try some of the spells that I've marked in the books. If those don't work, we'll find another way. Showing the Dark Lord that you're afraid of failure is exactly what he wants. If you give him that before we've even attempted this, then we'll be as dead as Potter. I'm sure he'll be quicker to kill the daughter of a traitor than the son of a coward, if you really need the assurance."

A fine example of the difference in how Draco acted with Mia and with others was the way he glanced up at her at her exiting sentence. If someone like Crabbe or Goyle dared to call his father a coward, he would have decimated them before they even finished their final words. With Mia, his attention was driven more on the realization that she was true in her statement. His mind skipped over the subtle stab in Lucius's direction and coated itself on knowing that Mia held a higher risk of death than him if they failed. She was a traitor's daughter, and that meant she had to do whatever necessary to save herself and her family from all sides of the war. If that meant using the Imperius curse on Albus Dumbledore and forcing him to fix the cabinet himself, she would damn well do it. Draco knew that, but the reminder brought back the persistent need to complete the mission.

He looked back down at the Spell book, his disgust returning before Mia noticed his ill reaction to her assumed assurance. "Well, we're not going to find the answer in this. Have you looked in your father's books for anything? Surely, he's got to have something."

"I found a few spells that might work, but they're for smaller things. Probably no more useful that pointing our wands and saying 'Oculus Repairo.' I have a feeling it's not going to be that easy."

"Of course not."

Draco sighed, his hand going up to shake through the hair that was well kempt up until thirty minutes ago when he started cursing at literature. Mia kept a close eye on him. Even though it was obvious that he took pride in being selected to fulfill a task for the Dark Lord, it was also obvious that he was trying to silence the stress that was building on his name. It didn't help that Narcissa had been hovering recently, no doubt eager to know what her son was getting himself into because of her husband's sentencing.

"You have figured out a way to impress the teacher, though, haven't you? You can't just simply expect him to fall over at the sight of a sixth year doing a bit of wandless magic or threatening second years into doing her bidding..."

She scowled. "Must you always doubt me?"

"You're a rather easy person to be doubtful of," Draco commented, his lips twitching into his own kind of smirk when he looked through his lashes at Mia.

It wasn't a smile. Curse the day that actually showed on his face, but it was the most he ever gave to another person. She was holding out a rather unladylike finger his way, but even she couldn't deny the glimmer of a grin that was pulling its way up to her mouth. The moment ended quickly, dripping off their faces like a heat was scalding their skin. Mia pulled on the leather spine of the book carelessly while Draco returned to flipping.

"When I spoke with the Dark Lord alone, he said that Slughorn favored talent that wasn't messy... people who would go far in life and supplement his need and desire to be wanted by the gems of our growing society. Sad, isn't it? Theo's father and my mother were both in the club when they attended Hogwarts, but I don't think my either of their reputations have exactly preceded a clean name for my character...he's going to want nothing to do with any of us. Not you. Not Theodore. It's not me being talented enough to play his pet that I'm concerned about... it's being talented enough to pretend my conscience is clean that shows the real threat."

"What makes you believe your conscience isn't clean?" Draco asked, sitting up straighter to devote his attention to her. One eyebrow was raised higher than the other in question. "Because you chose the side that's right? That will win? You know as well as I do that the impure are anything but clean, Andromeda... they're foul. Scum. They don't even deserve to sit next to us in class, even less be considered to have a better conscience just because our world is being run by the lesser kind and has us believing we're all equals. If anything, your conscience is as clean as Potter's is rotten... Slughorn's just terrified of having you and I in his stupid club because we matter more than his disappointing existence as a pureblood Slytherin ever has."

Andromeda pressed her tongue to the lid of her mouth, frowning as she thought about Draco's words. She was mostly surprised that he thought so deeply on something that didn't involve their mission or Potter's end. In some ways, she could agree with him. Her mind was hardwired to believe that she was the superior race because of her blood purity, but she still had her doubts on how he saw her conscience. Some like Bellatrix had every aspect of supremacy in their profile like she did, and it would be insane to believe that Bella's morality was untainted given all of her crimes. Although, Mia supposed that was left up to how Bella saw herself, not others—something that made the idea even harder to understand because the witch was too detached from her emotions to care about anything she did.

"Do you think he would be impressed if I set another student on fire?" she hummed out, easily transitioning back to their previous conversation as she leaned back to think about her plan of action.

Draco snorted, grabbing another book in the pile. "Better bloody well be some show."

"Maybe I can offer Parkinson up as a sacrifice."

"She does live in the same dormitory as you. Easy accessibility," he said. He didn't look up from the book at the sound of Pansy Parkinson's name, his affairs with the girl unimportant enough for him to care about whether or not Mia decided to offer her up as a human sacrifice. He did, however, care about what he would lose because of it. "Though I would appreciate it greatly if you didn't kill her. You never know when you'll need the companionship. Use Bulstrode. No one will miss the wench."

Mia tilted her head slightly, considering the thought with narrowed eyes. Millicent Bulstrode was someone that she would miss even less than Pansy for two reasons: the first was that she was an obnoxious bigot who could piss someone off without saying a single word, and the second was how horrid of a roommate she made. For someone who claimed to be raised in a respectable society, she knew nothing of tidiness.

"It would give Tracey and I more room if her bed suddenly vanished... also, companionship? Since when has Parkinson ever been a good companion?"

"Usually when her mouth is shut."

"If only that were a more frequent action."

――――――――――

August 23, 1996

"He's a Death Eater."

Harry's confidence did not dwindle as he spoke aloud the only thought that bounced around inside of his head. He didn't even consider any other option as every piece of evidence settled coherently around Draco Malfoy being exactly what his father was; his requests at Borgin and Burks, his revenge for his Lucius's downfall, his reaction in Madam Malkin's. All he was able to think about since the moment they left Diagon Alley were the two Slytherins that he ran into, millions of questions coming up and falling apart in split second differences as everything came back in pieces. It was infuriating, and the only conclusion that he could come up with made perfect sense to him and absolutely none to his friends that looked at him like he'd lost his mind.

"He's replaced his father as a Death Eater!"

Hermione and Ron said nothing at first, trying to grasp that their friend was actually accusing Draco of such a thing while also wondering if Harry was insane. They hated the teenage boy, too, but neither of them would assume him of falling so lowly on the scale between good and evil.

The silence was broken soon enough when laughter spilled out of Ron's mouth, red hair falling in his eyes. "Malfoy? He's sixteen, Harry! You think You-Know-Who would let Malfoy join? What, have they asked Andromeda to be one, as well?"

The Weasley boy truly shouldn't have said that because, now, Harry's eyebrows furrowed as he sluggishly sat back to think about the way that both Andromeda and Draco acted back at the store. Hermione shared her own disbelief in likelihood of their classmate being a Death Eater, but she didn't completely dismiss the topic as ludicrous like Ron. Harry always went back to the same conclusion, though. No matter how many alternatives he crossed paths with, it was all the same. Even more when he thought about Ron being right about Andromeda. He didn't see why she and Draco would suddenly become so close to each other; not unless something forced them to. They'd never shown any interest in one another until recently. With how protective they were to the other's safety back at Malkin's, even a stranger would have been able to see the oddity in it. Well, all except for his friends.

"In Madam Malkin's. She didn't touch him, but he yelled and jerked his arm away from her when she went to roll up his sleeve. It was his left arm. Did you not notice how careful Andromeda was when holding him back? The way she kept glancing down at their arms... like she was going to accidentally hit something? Since when have she and Draco been so close? You heard what she said when she was leaving... they've been branded with the Dark Mark."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other to share their thoughts, but Ron quickly turned back around to show off his doubtful expression. "Harry, I wasn't serious about Andromeda. She's bloody mad, sure, but she's not capable of murder. She and Malfoy are probably shagging, and they don't want anyone from school to know."

"She just lost her father, Harry," Hermione softly interjected, her face solemn as she gave Harry a repressive look. The three of them couldn't get her last words out of their heads since that day, but all for different reasons. Hermione could see how distressed she was, even more how unhealthy she had become in the last month. Her father was only just murdered, and she suddenly had to face the godson of the man who killed him. It was enough to make anyone resentful. "She's still grieving... the Malfoy's are only being polite. I think they just wanted to get out of there."

Harry would have turned green at the thought of Andromeda's father, but instead, his cheeks were heating red. He was resilient in refusing to admit defeat. "He showed Borgins something we couldn't see. Something that seriously scared Borgin. It was the Mark. I know it...he was showing Borgin who he was dealing with. You saw how seriously Borgin took him! It makes sense. They took their father's places. I know they did."

Another look of apprehension was exchanged. Harry's confidence was still radiating, even if his friends couldn't see through the fog. It was illogical to believe that Malfoy and Andromeda would actually join Voldemort. They may be in Slytherin, but that didn't mean they were so far gone that they would believe being a Death Eater was a good decision. Better yet, a solution.

Hermione, ever the one for the intellectual approach, decided to reason one last time with her best friend. "Why would You-Know-Who want Andromeda to join after what her father did? The Order told the Ministry what happened. He's bound to know what happened, as well... I would sooner believe him to want her dead than a Death Eater..."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, tilting his head to agree with Hermione. "I still don't reckon You-Know-Who would let Malfoy or Andromeda join..."

They were wrong. Harry knew that they were. They had to be. There was something more going on with the two...and if they refused to help him figure it out, then he would take the situation into his own hands. Maybe, just maybe, if he found out that Andromeda Erebus was a Death Eater, he would stop feeling sorry for her and start planning how to stop her.

――――――――――

September 1, 1996

"For the love of Salazar, Romy. Have you forgotten that you go faster when you move your legs?"

Draco's whining didn't stop if he was awake to open his mouth. If there was anything that someone should know about him, it was that he could manage to complain about something in any given circumstance—and, if he couldn't complain about it, he would probably do his best to evade it. Only when one learns to deal with it do they see that there was actually a person capable of having a genuine conversation without impatience coating it. Even if Andromeda was one of those people, wiring his jaw shut sounded better and better with every step. That it was because she was walking slowly to Hogwarts Express only made the thought transverse into a possibility.

Mia shot the blonde boy a dark look from her place beside Narcissa, but chose to keep her mouth shut. Draco was rushing to get to Blaise Zabini, who was only a feet feet away from him by now. Theodore was to the dark skinned boy's left, shifting uncomfortably with his lanky limbs as he lowly conversed with the other Slytherin boy. Theo had chosen to spend the summer with the Zabini's, despite the numerous offers that Andromeda sent his way to stay with her at the Malfoy manor.

With his father in Azkaban, it meant that he was officially in Celicia Erebus's care, but given that she could barely take care of her own daughter currently, their separations might have been for the best. The further that her cousin was from the Dark Lord, the better. Spending the holiday in a house with two Death Eaters was unsafe for anyone, but Theo having all of the qualities the Dark Lord looked for made it much worse. She refused to put him in harms way. Therefore, she just settled on the relief that shuddered through her body when she saw her cousin, wanting nothing more than to be by his side.

"I won't lose my son."

The relief was murdered by those five words. Instead, an offsetting shock of adrenaline ran down her spine as she turned her head to look at Narcissa Malfoy. The woman showed no indication of speaking, her eyes still staring straight ahead at her son, but Mia knew better. Narcissa was a strong-willed witch, and one that she respected, but she was not a person that Mia would ever be able to trust. If she depended upon her self-preservation as much as she knew she did, it was right to do so. Even if Celicia was Narcissa's friend—even if Narcissa cared for Andromeda—Draco was her son. Her only son. If it ever came down to a decision between she or Draco, Narcissa wouldn't even have to blink before she chose.

Andromeda knew this. She wasn't hurt by it, rather taken back by the randomness of the conversation. She didn't cower away from the blonde woman bluntness, and seeing the resemblance between her and her son made her next words easy to swallow.

Mia glanced back at Draco, who chose to look back at her in annoyance, then looked at Narcissa. "I know what my chances are in this war, Narcissa. Both sides have reason to want me dead. I'm not going to tell you that I won't run away if I see danger—I, most definitely, will—but I'm going to protect my friends. Until the very end. The Dark Lord knows the cost of my life to Draco's, as do I."

It wasn't hard to figure out that the Dark Lord favored Draco more than her. She was the disposable piece, a trial of sorts, while Draco wore the heavy crown that his father bent in half. If the one good thing that she did in her life was protecting him from the Dark Lord's doing, then she would wear the crown herself and decorate it in thorns. Andromeda would not have said that about Draco a year ago. She would have left him to deal with his problems; they weren't her own. If he died, it was better him than her. Then, she saw the larger problem. The one where her chances of walking out of the war alive were slimmer than his own. The one where Draco's compassion (even at its darkest) had a better chance of being built again. She knew that. Granger, Weasley, and Potter knew it, too. Now, so did Narcissa.

Draco's mother finally looked away from her son and over to Mia. "Would you die for him?"

"I don't know," Andromeda replied honestly. She wasn't going to lie and say that she would stand in front of Draco if he were about to be killed. Every muscle in her body protested the unfamiliar heroism. She cared about him, but she didn't think she would ever sacrifice herself for him. There was only one thing she was certain of. "But I would kill for him if I had to."

That must have been enough for Narcissa, who paused at her words before slowly nodding in acceptance. It was the best that she could get from the girl sharing lives with her son. She allowed Andromeda to walk away after that, watching with calculating eyes as the young girl went to the entrance of the train with her shoulders straight and posture exemplary for a pureblood woman. Draco and the other Slytherin boys had already boarded, and Narcissa could not get the sensation out of her stomach that told her to stop the train and grab her son before he left. He was in danger, and she could do nothing but hope that Andromeda protected Draco from becoming what she was already turning into. That seemed impossible, though. Who her son was then would not be who he will be in a few months.

When Andromeda got onto the train, the shadow of excitement that she usually felt wasn't there. The only hint of an emotion was mild panic. The timer had officially begun. She and Draco now had until the end of their sixth year to complete their missions. That was the permanent thought plastered to her skull as she shuffled through the long corridor, one hand tightly on her bag and the other pressed into a fist at her side to prevent any mishaps now that she could do magic without fearing the consequences. The first set of eyes that she noticed were from Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe as she passed the Ravenclaw compartment, the latter looking gruesome with makeup coating her deformed face from last year. Their door was closed, but they were leaning forward to speak to their friends across from them when she passed. She prided herself in keeping her chin up, pretending that they didn't exist and continuing on.

But then Edgecombe opened her fat mouth. "...said her mother went completely mental after losing her husband, screaming at the walls. That's why she left the Malfoy's...figures, having a husband that's a Death Eater..."

Andromeda wasn't sure which part triggered her. Possibly that they even dared to talk about her, possibly that they were falsely spreading the rumor that her mother was mad, or possibly the way that Edgecombe said the words 'Death Eater', downgrading him to a single title. Whatever the reason, it didn't take much for her temper to tip past its limit, and she could practically feel the heat boiling in her skin as she stopped in her place. The corridor ahead got blurrier, her jaw got tighter, muscles tensing as she tried everything in her power not to do something horrible to the two girls behind her. She didn't even care if Slughorn was nowhere in her vicinity. This was for her.

Her hand hit the wand hidden in a small pocket, and there was immediate comfort as her magic centered down to a specific part of her body, radiating just enough for her to see a picture of what she wanted to do. A small nudge hit the nerve of her brain. Aqua Eructo. Mia didn't stay to see what she damaged she caused, imagining the compartment they were in quickly filling with water. Unable to escape. She could only keep the mental image inside of her head for a few moments as one of the Ravenclaws shouted different spells to make it stop. She was moving away from the compartment much faster that time, unable to hide the satisfied smile from tugging on her lips as she kept going straight.

"You were behind that, weren't you?"

Andromeda stopped in her place, rocking on her heels as her eyes widened. The last thing she needed was to be expelled before she'd even stepped foot into Hogwarts. At first, she thought it would be the Head Boy or Girl coming to see what happened, but had been pleasantly surprised to see the face of a man. He was older and looked like he'd lost a few inches with age, but by the unfamiliarity of his face, Mia knew exactly who he was. And she couldn't have felt more like she'd just been handed a bottle of Liquid Luck.

"My, my... I must say, that was impressive—you preformed a spell that requires pointing your wand without even lifting it. Do you realize the amount of focus a witch must have to do something like that? And one so young..."

Mia shuffled, trying to seem as uneasy as possible to play into her clean character. Slughorn—she had to assume this was Slughorn—completely skirted over that her usage of the magic was for a vile purpose, and was instead staring in fascination at her. She knew she had to speak. "I didn't realize... I apologize... my teachers always say that not using my wand could get me into trouble..."

"Nonsense! A gift! What's your name, young lady?" Slughorn asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he all but bounced up and down in front of Andromeda.

This was where she hesitated, glancing down and pressing her lips together tightly as she questioned what she could possibly say to make herself seem uninvolved in the Dark Lord's reign. That small gesture was enough for Slughorn to see her apprehension, and he looked at her closely. Her face was familiar, certain features resembling a student that he'd remembered years ago.

It couldn't be... "Celicia Radnor's daughter?"

Mia flinched unknowingly at her mother's maiden name, knowing that Theo had the same reaction. The Radnor family hadn't exactly had a great ending. One daughter was dead, and the other was widowed. It did make it easier for Mia, though, who slowly nodded her head.

"Erebus, now. My mother is—" she paused at her slip-up. "—was married. My father passed away recently."

It was easy to put everything together after that. Even if she hadn't said her last name, there weren't many widows in the Wizarding World by the name of Celicia. Mia watched Slughorn carefully, knowing that she had once chance at this. If he asked questions, she had to reply. His posture deflated rapidly, a sadness in his aging eyes that made her wonder if it was because she was a lost cause or because her mother was one. From what she'd heard, Slughorn loved Celicia. She was a prized student, a gifted witch, and Mia could see him dropping all of those compliments down the drain as he understood her connection to Death Eaters. Much like she feared, her left arm stung under the sleeves of her dress.

"I'm sorry for your loss... Alastiare, was it?" Slughorn asked, his eyebrow raising. It took all of Mia's willpower not to grin. She'd caught him. He was interested, curious. Now, she just had to keep him asking questions until he was convinced her father was innocent. "Such things have been said about his involvement in a little disturbance at the Ministry...everyone is wondering just what happened. The Prophet says nothing of your father—but you must know something. The Ministry has confirmed that he was innocent—a mere casualty...how horrible."

Maybe she didn't have to convince him. His insinuations told half of the story themselves. Still, she kept her face somber and crossed her arms, trying in any way possible to appear distressed. The corridor was empty near her place at the changing compartments, but she kept her voice quiet.

"Mother wrote me a letter about what happened a few weeks after. It's horrible, sir... I didn't understand why my father began acting differently. He just changed. Almost like someone was forcing him to be a different person... I thought—" Mia made a guttural sound, making it sound like she was choking on her words. Slughorn was quick to lay a hand on her shoulder, comforting while still engrossed in her words. "...I thought it was my fault. I thought that he was disappointed in me. That I had done something wrong. When I found out what You-Know-Who did to him...what he was forced to do..."

Andromeda stopped, clearing her throat and stepping out of Slughorn's grasp. She gave him a half-hearted smile in apology, hoping that he was falling for it. "I'm sorry, sir. It's just hard to think about him. Knowing that he tried to save Sirius Black before he was killed... it's just very difficult for my family right now."

When she looked up from the floor of the train, she was silently thanking her father for all of the times that he dragged her to the meetings when she was a child. Mia was smart enough not to look into Slughorn's mind. His was unsafe, and if he knew she was digging, he would shut her out. The Dark Lord hadn't told her if he was skilled in Occlumency, and she wasn't going to take the chance if it meant the success or failure of her first mission. His facial expressions said just as much as if she actually read his mind. Reluctance was the first thing she saw. He was holding back; the way his brow dipped down showed that. Pity—a disgusting emotion—could be seen in how he pulled his lips into a growing frown. There was no fear, though. He wasn't afraid of her or her title, and that was the best that he could have offered her.

He seemed to have made his decision after a few moments. "I'm very sorry for your loss... The Prophet never mentioned that your father was under the Imperius Curse. They really should involve that information. We wouldn't want you to have a bad name. Not when you have so much potential...I'm sorry. I seemed to have skipped over your name."

"Andromeda," she said, smiling again at him. He reciprocated it, replacing his pity with relief that he hadn't upset her too deeply. That was when she knew that she won. "My name is Andromeda."

"I would love to know how you got started in wandless and nonverbal magic one day, Andromeda. Many of us are getting together later in compartment C to have lunch—you're welcome to come if you'd like. Of course, if you are not up to it, we can always reschedule. It's nothing we can't figure out in the future. With someone of your talent, it would be most unfortunate to not get to know you a little better."

All Mia could think in that moment was how amazing it was going to feel to rub it in Draco's face that she didn't even need to blow up Bulstrode or Parkinson to get a well-earned place in the infamous Slug Club.

――――――――――

Draco knew something was wrong the moment that Romy came through the door. He'd started to fidget after waiting for her to arrive much later than she should have, his eye staying carefully on the entrance of the Slytherin's compartment. His ring was unconsciously being turned back and forth with his thumb, stopping only when the door opened and another person that wasn't the brunette came in. He tried to remain unbothered by it. Pansy's presence to his left should have settled the ugly feeling in his stomach, but it didn't. She didn't. The only thing that he could think about was what may have happened to her between entering the train and meeting them in the back. Someone may have seen her Dark Mark. Someone may have gone after her because she was Alastiare's daughter. He needed her at Hogwarts. If she was caught, then the mission may as well be nothing.

So, when it finally opened to the right person and he saw the pleased expression on her face, he knew that something had happened. Before he'd even had the chance to ask just what that was or shrug Pansy from his arm, another body was coming up the aisle to greet the girl. Theodore Nott was grabbing his cousin's bags when Draco blinked next, and he watched with mild interest as the two of them interacted. He didn't know what he thought of Theodore. The boy was quiet, much like Andromeda was, and that made him care little for the social hierarchy that Draco started building his first year. Somehow, that made Draco see him as an equal instead of a lesser peer. He respected Theodore and knew that the boy was even more clever than he let on to the world, but he also could see the problem that he might cause for him the future when it came to Andromeda.

"I didn't hear any screaming. Could you have possibly made it all the way here without causing someone harm? I'm disappointed, Erebus."

Tracey Davis was the one to ask the question, moving her body out of the small booth so that she could poke her head into the aisle to see Andromeda. A devious grin was spreading on her face, showing the teeth that had finally straightened after six years. Whether it was the gesture or the question, Mia snorted humorously at the curly-haired girl. She nodded once at Theodore, ending the silent conversation between them by walking past to greet Tracey. Of all her roommates, Tracey was her favorite. It may have been because the girl was disgustingly to the point and an overall refreshing personality, but she always knew it had something to do with Tracey being a half-blood. She was nothing like the pureblood girls that Mia hated growing up with, and while that may make the others look down upon her, she didn't.

"You know me better than that, Davis," Mia scolded, smirking at the girl as she took a seat across from her. Daphne Greengrass was next to her, looking more bored than ever as she twisted her wand in her hands to pass the time. She only glanced up when she noticed Mia, her lip pulling up into a smile when she heard her words to Tracey. It only grew when Theodore sat down next to Mia. "You mean, you really didn't hear Chang and Edgecombe's screaming? I'd have thought the whole train would come running to see who was dying."

Tracey looked appalled, her mouth falling open in shock. "That was them? It sounded like someone was strangling a cat!"

"Speaking of cat, where's Atlas?" Daphne asked, leaning forward and putting her wand down. "I was hoping he'd try to take out Bulstrode or Moon's eyes again."

Mia's face dropped a bit at the mention of the name. Atlas, her black cat with beautiful blue eyes that she'd received from her father when she was eleven, had been staying with her mother ever since she went back to their manor. She knew that it was for the best, especially since Atlas adored Celicia and her mother needed someone to be there for her, but she still missed him. It seemed like everyone was better away from her—her mother, Theo, Atlas. The only person who didn't apply to that list was Draco. As if only just remembering that he was in the room, Mia turned her head to look for the blonde boy in the booth next to her, completely forgetting for a moment that Daphne asked a question.

He wasn't looking her way, too busy speaking to Blaise about a piece of paper in his hands. Mia's eyes went to Pansy Parkinson instead, who was clinging to Draco's arm like he'd magically disappear if she let go. It was incredibly sad. Her relationship with Parkinson might not be the most civilized, but she still had to care about her in some way. She'd only been sleeping in the same room as her for six years. It'd be low on her part if she didn't. Even if the attention was requited, that didn't mean the feelings were. Pansy had to know that Draco didn't love her. Mia didn't think he would ever love her—or anyone, for that matter. Not the way that someone would want to be loved, at least. She pitied anyone who fell for the boy, as they would only find themselves leading a life of trying to be enough and always being too much for someone like Draco Malfoy.

"Mia?"

Her name brought her back to the conversation she'd lost interest in, turning around to face in front of her. She didn't dislike Daphne Greengrass, but she would not be her first option if she wanted to speak to someone. The girl was nice; she just enjoyed things that Mia didn't—like gossip, and everything else that a pureblood witch was raised to adore.

"He's with my mother," Mia said, pressing her lips into a straight line afterwards to show that she wasn't explaining any further.

Theodore shook his head at his cousin, placing his elbows on the table to appear more comfortable in a surrounding that he had never liked. Even though he didn't mind Tracey or Daphne's company, he would rather be sitting far away from everyone until they got to school. He had no choice on being with his housemates there.

Daphne wanted to ask about how Celicia was doing, or even just Mia herself. While they all tried to pretend that nothing had changed in the last few months, everything had. The war, the crimes and arrests, the atmosphere between students, Saint Potter's millionth "heroic" act, Andromeda's entire life. They remembered the train ride home on the last day—how Theodore and Andromeda sat in the back, away from the world; how Daphne didn't speak once; how Crabbe and Goyle had no appetite for the trolley; how Draco's face was expressionless, unreadable and unfathomably bare. Conversing with each other and acting like they were still the same people wasn't going to fool a group who loved knowing everything about someone. Especially if it was originally in a way to win.

One look of warning from Tracey, and Daphne was redirecting away from anything that involved the tragedies that happened that summer. A grin began to stretch on her face as she leaned even closer to Mia, a suggestive expression in light eyes. "So... Andrew Vaisey was asking about you when he came through earlier."

A humorous snort came from Theodore before anyone could say anything. Daphne turned to glower at his response, not wanting him to destroy her attempt to have the conversation with Mia. He raised his brow at the blonde, but didn't say anything as he tilted his head to see his cousin's response about Vaisey. She looked a bit more enthusiastic than Theo did to be talking about boys instead of Celicia, but not by much. Even if she did fancy the Slytherin Chaser at one point, it was stupid to think she could ever act on how she felt now. The closest she'd ever gotten to him was a dance at the Yule Ball, and that entire night was a lifetime away after all of the Firewhisky that Draco and Blaise smuggled into the common room afterwards. With Dark Lord's mission and a greater possibility of being caught for having the Dark Mark, getting close to anyone was foolish.

"Andrew Vaisey just likes me because his father is battling with Reeta Skeeter on who can be the nosiest person in England," Mia protested, making eye contact with Daphne's pout as she shut down Vaisey's interest. Tracey grinned, leaning back to take in the dispute between the girls. "I'm sure he's already bought every page of nonsense that the Daily Prophet and Quibbler have put out since Potter caused a scene at the Department of Mysteries. He's just recruiting his son to try and get the truth like everyone else...even the new professor's already started asking questions about their credibility."

"New professor?"

Mia turned to her right in the direction of the voice, noticing that Draco had caught the end of what she was saying. That, or he had no interest in the subject until then. He was already looking at her this time, saying nothing but clearly asking a specific question that no one around could understand. Her lip twitched up for a millisecond to show that he'd heard correctly, but did nothing else. She couldn't be smug, no matter how much she wanted to rub it in Draco's face that she was already off to a great start this year. She just hoped that it would continue onto when they got to Hogwarts and tried to fix the bloody cabinet.

"Slughorn. I ran into him when I was getting away from Chang and Edgecombe," Mia explained, her voice never faltering from a casual tone. He had no extreme reaction either, instead just nodding once in acknowledgement before turning back to his table with a small hum.

Blaise, however, was still interested and leaned to look at her over Theo's wide frame. "Did he speak about talking to any students over lunch? I got an invitation from him earlier to join."

"He asked if I'd like to come, but I don't think I'm going to go."

Draco did have an extreme reaction this time. His head lifted quickly, and he turned to look at her with wide eyes and a baffled expression that made her look like an absolute imbecile. What the hell was she thinking, he'd thought without concerning himself to actually consider that she had a plan. She would have very well killed him if he opened his mouth and said anything, but thankfully, he kept quiet. Blaise didn't ask why she was opting out on meeting with Slughorn and dismissed it much like everyone else around them. All except Draco, who had yet to look away as he waited for some type of explanation on why she was throwing her opportunity out the train's window. And to think, she was supposed to be the clever one.

Later. That was the one word that bounced around inside of Draco's mind. Though he was able to distinguish who it was from the voice alone, it was also the familiar sting in his temple that told him who was behind it. He'd looked away from Mia immediately after that, subconsciously beginning to build the barrier up within his mind that Bellatrix taught him that summer. He hated that feeling. Despised it. Abhorred it. The sensation of being discovered—of having every single vessel out in the open, all on display like his mind was the fucking Museum of Natural Disaster. Romy knew how he felt about her using her Legilimency on him. Regardless of if it helped them complete the mission or not, he would never be able to forget the first time she accessed his mind and saw everything that he favored and feared in a matter of seconds. He hated it. He hated that he couldn't hate her for using it, either.

The guilt hit soon after Mia got into his head. His despondent reaction raised a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, but she kept her apology stuck between her lips as he leaned into Pansy's touch, seeking comfort from someone more than willing to give it to him. They'd only just gotten past the brutal weeks with Bellatrix recently, and she launched herself back into his mind without warning him first. She didn't see another option, though. If she had a closed way of communicating with him, then she would use it. The Dark Lord was expecting her to use it. Draco's trouble with Legilimency was in her finding out more of his secrets rather than her helping him know something crucial.

Another memory of her father resurfaced at the thought, and Mia was sitting back in her seat with a resignation that only occurred when Alastiare was involved: "Legilimency is about more than just seeing inside another's mind, Andromeda. If it were that simple, more wizards would master the skill. It's picking the poisonous thoughts from the important ones... it's fighting the desire to go deeper into the subconsciousness of someone that has little knowledge of the invasion. It can become an addiction if used improperly and a weapon to those who are convinced they need it. You will know if you cross the line between looking and torturing— they are no longer a person anymore, but a victim." She wouldn't let Draco become a victim to her.

"Do you think it's going to be different this year?"

Daphne's question only raised more questions for the seven Slytherins that were around to hear her. Within the odd amount of personalities, every single of them came to the same answer; it was obvious to anyone with a brain. Yes, things would be different, because their education was no longer the thing that determined their futures. It was what side they chose to stand on. Yes, things would be different, because they were no longer the eleven-year-old children that knew nothing but the good of magic. Pure. Fragile. Delicate.

Yes, things would be different, because the Wizarding World was no longer just a threat to muggles. It was a threat to the wizards. The witches. The magical creatures. The ones with Sight. It was a threat to everyone who lived in the time of the war... Yes, things would be different, because that was the last time that all seven of them would be sitting in the train compartment together—on their way to a world that was counting down its days until it fell to pieces and took them along with it. It was only the beginning to a very tragic end.

Andromeda answered. "It already is."

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Author's Note:

What scenes are you most excited to see Andromeda be a part of? What character relationships do you want to see more of, or what character do you want to see Mia interact with? Why do you think Voldemort wants Mia to be in the Slug Club? I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far, or at least understanding Mia a bit more than before. As always, please let me know what you think. Comments encourage me to write better and draft more ideas for this story's future. The face-claims for the main characters have been updated for anyone interested.

HECATE: GODDESS OF WITCHCRAFT, THE NIGHT, THE MOON, GHOSTS.