The rhythmic clatter of the Hogwarts Express filled the compartment as it wound its way through the countryside. I sat pressed against the window, the warm summer sun streaming in, its light dappling the seats and casting long shadows across the floor. Across from me, Draco was sprawled out with his usual air of arrogance, his arm thrown lazily over the back of the seat. Goyle and Crabbe sat on either side of him like bookends, chewing on pumpkin pasties and laughing at some crude joke Draco had made. Blaise Zabini lounged nearby, looking utterly unimpressed with the whole scene, while Daphne Greengrass sat next to me, her expression calm and composed as always.
The compartment was suffocatingly familiar. I felt like an actor playing a part I hadn't wanted in a play I detested. My silence seemed to go unnoticed, or at least unremarked upon, by the others. That was something I had learned from years of practice—how to fade into the background, to become just another figure in the tapestry of the Malfoy decorum.
"Did you see Potter's face at the feast?" Draco sneered, his voice cutting through the ambient noise of the train. "All puffed up like he's some kind of hero. Typical."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "He did save the school," Daphne pointed out, her tone mild but pointed.
Draco snorted. "Please. The only reason Potter keeps surviving these ridiculous stunts is dumb luck. One day, his luck's going to run out."
I glanced at him, wondering—not for the first time—how he could be so blind to the depth of Harry's courage. "Maybe," I said vaguely, my voice so quiet that it was almost lost beneath the sound of the train.
Draco didn't seem to notice, which was just as well. Blaise, however, caught my eye and raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable.
The journey seemed to drag on forever. I tried to distract myself by watching the landscape blur past the window: rolling green hills, dense forests, the occasional flash of a distant village. But my thoughts kept circling back to the events of the past year.
I thought of the Basilisk, of Ginny Weasley's pale, frightened face when she had been rescued, of the look in Harry's eyes when he had spoken of Tom Riddle. And I thought of the role I had played—small, secret, but vital nonetheless.
No one in this compartment knew what I had done. Not Draco, who had reveled in the terror spreading through the school. Not Daphne, who had quietly supported me but had kept her own involvement distant. Certainly not Goyle or Crabbe, who wouldn't have believed it even if I told them.
It was a strange, lonely feeling, carrying a secret like this. But it was better this way. Safer.
"Earth to Celeste," Draco drawled, waving a hand in front of my face. "You've been staring out the window like a lost puppy for the last twenty minutes. What's the matter with you?"
"Nothing," I said quickly, turning back to face him. "Just tired."
"Well, perk up," he said with a smirk. "We're nearly there. Father's expecting us, and you know how he hates it when we look... unkempt."
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Right."
When the train finally pulled into King's Cross, the platform was a flurry of activity. Students spilled out of the carriages, dragging their trunks and owl cages, chattering excitedly about their plans for the summer. The air was thick with the sound of parents calling to their children, of luggage trolleys squeaking over the stone floor.
Draco led the way as we stepped off the train, his usual swagger on full display. I followed behind him, clutching my trunk with both hands. Daphne walked beside me, her face carefully neutral.
And then I saw them—our parents.
Lucius Malfoy stood tall and imposing, his long platinum hair catching the sunlight. Beside him, our mother, Narcissa, looked as elegant as ever, her sharp blue eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on us.
"There they are," Draco said, his voice filled with pride. He quickened his pace, and I followed, my heart pounding.
"Draco. Celeste," our father said as we approached. His voice was smooth, almost disconcertingly calm. "Welcome home."
"Father," Draco said, his tone filled with reverence. He handed his trunk off to one of the house-elves that had appeared at Lucius's side.
"Mother," I said softly, stepping forward. Narcissa's gaze softened slightly as she reached out to brush a strand of hair from my face.
"Let's not linger," Lucius said, glancing around the platform with a faint sneer. "There are too many prying eyes."
With a sharp crack, we Disapparated, the bustling platform vanishing in an instant. A heartbeat later, I found myself standing in the grand foyer of Malfoy Manor. The air here was cool and heavy, carrying the faint scent of polished wood and fresh flowers.
"Welcome back," Narcissa said, her voice warm despite its formality. She gave me a small smile before turning to Draco.
As the house-elves scurried to take our trunks upstairs, I lingered in the foyer, my thoughts a jumble of emotions. The warmth and camaraderie of the Hogwarts Express already felt like a distant memory, replaced by the cold, oppressive atmosphere of the Manor.
Daphne had once told me that family loyalty was the most important thing in the world. But as I stood there, I couldn't help but wonder: What if loyalty to one's family meant betraying everything else?
YOU ARE READING
human again / hp.
Fanfiction"I already forgave you, so why can't you forgive yourself?" She's a Malfoy. He's a Potter. Celeste Malfoy has always walked a fine line between the world she was born into and the one she chose for herself. At Hogwarts, nothing is simple. Not friend...
