human again / hp.

Chapter 33

The snow fell softly outside the castle windows, dusting the ancient stone ledges in white. Christmas was yesterday, and while most students were home, a few of us were staying at Hogwarts, either by choice or family decree. My brother Draco was thrilled to have the castle almost to himself, but I wasn't as enthused. There was a heaviness in the air—whispers about the Chamber of Secrets, the unease of students being petrified.

And then there was me, a Malfoy in Gryffindor, which made the holidays even more complicated.

I found myself wandering the halls that evening, not quite ready to return to the Gryffindor common room and the prying questions of my housemates. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy their company—I'd come to care for many of them—but there were days when being a Malfoy in red and gold felt like walking on a tightrope, always one slip away from disaster.

I rounded a corner and almost collided with Daphne Greengrass.

"Cela?" she said, surprised. She was wrapped in an elegant green cloak, her blonde hair falling neatly over her shoulders. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be tucked away in your lion's den."

I gave a half-smile. "Needed some air. And you? Shouldn't you be tormenting first-years with Draco?"

She smirked, shaking her head. "I've had enough of your brother for one evening. He's been insufferable."

"Isn't he always?" I said lightly, and we both chuckled.

For all our differences, Daphne and I had always shared an easy camaraderie. We grew up together in the same pure-blood circles, attending the same formal dinners, surviving the same lessons in etiquette. Unlike Pansy Parkinson, who was as shallow as a puddle, Daphne had a quiet depth to her, a keen intelligence that often went unnoticed in the company she kept.

"Walk with me?" she asked, and I nodded.

We strolled in silence for a while, our footsteps echoing against the stone corridors.

"Do you ever wonder," Daphne began after a moment, "if we're all just... puppets?"

I blinked, caught off guard. "Puppets?"

"Yes," she said, her tone contemplative. "Dancing to strings pulled by our families, by tradition. It's exhausting, isn't it? Knowing exactly who you're supposed to be before you've even had the chance to figure it out for yourself."

I glanced at her. This wasn't the Daphne Greengrass most people saw—the composed, aloof Slytherin who seemed effortlessly in control.

"I think about it all the time," I admitted. "More than I'd like to, actually."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really? You always seem so... unbothered. Even with everything—" She waved a hand vaguely. "You know, being in Gryffindor and all."

I laughed, though there wasn't much humor in it. "Unbothered is my specialty. Or haven't you noticed? But trust me, it's there. The expectations, the pressure. I just... hide it better than some."

We turned a corner, and I spotted an alcove with a cushioned bench. Gesturing to it, I said, "Come on. Let's sit."

Once seated, Daphne pulled her cloak tighter around her. "You've got it worse than I do, I think," she said softly. "Being a Malfoy and a Gryffindor? That can't be easy."

"It's not," I admitted, my voice quieter now. "You can imagine how Father took it. He barely acknowledges me these days unless it's to lecture me about loyalty to the family. Draco... well, you've seen how he is."

Daphne frowned. "That's awful. And unfair. You didn't choose this."

"No," I said, my throat tightening. "But sometimes it feels like I'm being punished for it anyway."

There was a pause, and then Daphne said, "Do you ever wish things were different? That you were different?"

I considered her question. "Sometimes," I said finally. "But then I think... maybe this is who I'm supposed to be. Maybe I'm here in Gryffindor for a reason."

Her eyes searched mine. "You really believe that?"

"I have to," I said. "Otherwise, what's the point? If I just... gave up, let them dictate who I am, I wouldn't be me anymore."

Daphne sighed, resting her chin on her hand. "I wish I had your certainty. My parents are already planning my future, you know. Who I'll marry, what kind of life I'll lead. It's all mapped out. And if I don't follow it..." She trailed off, staring at the floor.

"You'll disappoint them," I finished for her.

She nodded.

"I get it," I said. "Believe me, I do. But maybe... maybe you don't have to follow the map. Maybe you can make your own path."

She gave a bitter laugh. "Easy for you to say. You're already rebelling just by being in Gryffindor."

I smiled faintly. "It's not as glamorous as it sounds."

We sat in silence for a while, the weight of our shared frustrations hanging in the air.

"What about the Chamber?" Daphne asked suddenly. "Does it scare you?"

"Yes," I said honestly. "Not just because of the attacks, but because of what it means. The idea that someone is targeting people just because of their blood status... it's disgusting. And knowing that some people—" I hesitated, thinking of Draco. "Some people probably think it's justified... that's worse."

Daphne looked troubled. "Do you think Draco—"

"Don't," I interrupted gently. "I don't want to talk about him right now."

She nodded, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something in her eyes—sympathy, maybe.

"Cela," she said quietly, "you're braver than you realize."

I blinked, caught off guard. "What makes you say that?"

"Because you're still you," she said simply. "Even with everything stacked against you. You're still here, still fighting."

Her words settled over me like a warm cloak, chasing away some of the cold that had lodged itself in my chest.

"Thanks, Daph," I said softly.

She smiled faintly. "Don't mention it. Just... don't forget you're not alone, okay? Even if it feels like it sometimes."

"I won't," I promised.

And for the first time in a long while, I felt like maybe I wasn't.