Dirty Mouth, Dirty Blood [h.g]

forty two

AN: This story is already a lot longer than I originally planned. I feel like I'm setting unrealistic expectations for future stories...

42

Then

Carina executed a pirouette, landing perfectly. Her bun was tight, stretching her face upwards uncomfortably.

Carina's teacher nodded stiffly, and Carina hurriedly exited the dance studio. She'd been at it for three hours, and her teacher was merciless. It was worth it, though, as Carina almost floated as she walked, gliding across spaces.

Ballet gave her grace and poise, things she wouldn't have achieved otherwise.

So, overall, ballet was a good investment.

But she couldn't wait until her first year at Hogwarts. Because then, she could put her skills to use.

And never put her hair in that god forsaken bun ever again.

Now

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were listening eagerly to a program called 'Potterwatch', something the Order members put on. Carina, however, was curling her hair.

She had used a sleeking gel the day before when she had woken up with a massive case of bedhead, seeing if it would hold her unruly hair. Hermione had recommended it, saying she used it from time to time, so Carina shouldn't have been surprised when it had worked all too well.

When Carina had woken up the next morning, she found that her hair had no volume whatsoever, and she was trying desperately to fix that fact with tight, ringlet curls. The Malfoy reputation had to be upheld.

She walked towards the trio, gel and concealer ready to be returned to Hermione in her hands.

"And I think that Voldemort," Harry said, and Carina felt fear consume her. He'd said the Dark Lord's name. The trace was broken.

She immediately flew into a frenzy, having planned out exactly what to do in this situation a thousand times.

Throwing open the concealer, Carina slathered some over Harry's scar before transfiguring his glasses to be square and bright purple. On a whim, Carina ran the sleeking gel through his dark hair, slicking it back the way she had seen Draco do a million times before.

Carina barely heard the voice outside the tent, telling them to give themselves up. She was too busy pressing the tablet the twins had given her to her hairline. Carina hoped against hope they had been successful, and that it would indeed turn her hair red.

"Get behind me," Carina breathed as the Snatchers entred the tent, "I'll talk our way out of it. I promise."

"Who are you?" The unmistakable voice of Fenrir Greyback spat out.

Carina thought quickly, speaking after only the slightest moment of hesitation, something she hoped they wouldn't catch. Her voice was an octave higher, conveying as much emotion as she could possible give it. "I'm Lacy Weasley, and this is my fiancé, Morgan West." Carina said, gesturing towards Harry and discreetly moving one of her rings to her ring finger.

"And them?" Fenrir asked menacingly, pointing to Ron and Hermione.

"Oh, well, that's Barney Weasley, my brother, and Olive West, my soon-to-be sister-in-law."

Hermione seemed impressed with her lying skills, but they weren't out of the woods yet.

"Blood status?"

"I'm a Half-blood, same as my brother, and my fiancé and his sister are purebloods."

"Purebloods, ay?" Fenrir noted, turning his attention towards Harry. "What house were you in, boy?"

"Slytherin," Harry said quickly.

"Prove it," Fenrir growled.

"The entrance to the common room is in the dungeons, and it looks out at the Black Lake." Harry stated, waiting on bated breath for Fenrir to continue.

"Checks out," he said finally, "and how about you, you pretty little thing?"

If it had been any other situation, Carina would have slapped him, his eyes wandering over her leather-coated body. "Ravenclaw. To get in, you have to answer a riddle." She said, feigning fear.

Fenrir nodded once, going to converse with the rest of his gang.

They came back a moment later, a picture in their hands.

"She does look like the Mudblood said to be traveling with Potter, doesn't she?" One of Fenrir's goonies asked, holding a picture up of Hermione up to her.

"Search the place," Fenrir ordered, "we'll figure it out."

Carina let out a long, shaky breath. Her lying hadn't been good enough. They were screwed.