Nobody could resist the appeal of an endlessly adorable little dragon.
Nobody.
That was Malfoy's conclusion, her face wearing the besotted smile of a doting aunt as she cradled Dark Cloud in her arms.
Who would have thought this little black lump of a creature could be so impossibly soft to squeeze?
Who would have thought that she, Malfoy, would one day hold a dragon hatchling in her arms and knead it like dough?
"Feels pretty good, doesn't it?" Kate asked, her tone carrying a distinct air of mischief.
The blissful smile hadn't left Malfoy's face. "It does," she admitted.
"Cute, isn't she?"
"Adorable." Malfoy looked like she was one second away from burying her face in Dark Cloud's scales and inhaling deeply.
Kate raised an eyebrow. "So you won't be leaking her existence to anyone, will you?"
"Of course not." Malfoy nodded as though that were the most natural thing in the world.
Then she processed what she'd just said. Her head snapped up. "You — you tricked me into saying that!"
"I don't see the problem," Kate said, crossing her legs and affecting an utterly shameless expression. "You've already petted her. You've already cuddled her. You've taken every liberty there is to take. My Dark Cloud is a respectable young lady of good standing, you know."
The way she said it made it sound as though Malfoy were some kind of tyrannical bully who had deliberately taken advantage of an innocent dragon.
"You're complicit in raising her now," Kate concluded with a sunny smile. "If you tell anyone, you go down with me."
Malfoy's expression cycled through several shades. She was just about to storm off when Dark Cloud let out a small, delicate little cry from within her arms.
And just like that, what little resolve she'd had dissolved completely.
"Oh, you sweet thing," she murmured, rocking Dark Cloud back and forth with unmistakable tenderness.
After a long moment, she finally looked up, her expression thunderous, her voice sharp as a blade. "I'll let you off this time — for Dark Cloud's sake. Consider yourself lucky."
Kate tilted her chin up triumphantly and gave a perfunctory nod. "Much obliged, Young Master Malfoy."
"Hmph!" Malfoy turned her nose up and redirected her full attention to the hatchling in her arms.
Hermione, watching the two of them bicker, had been quiet for some time — and something about the scene was starting to feel subtly, inexplicably wrong.
She stole a glance at Kate.
And found her looking at them with an expression of unmistakable warmth and softness.
Was she looking at Dark Cloud? Or was she looking at Malfoy?
An inexplicable sense of unease took root somewhere in Hermione's chest, and she couldn't quite name what it was.
It was worse than what she'd felt when she'd seen Kate with Cho Chang. Much worse.
Her fingers curled against the armrest of the sofa without her noticing. She watched the three of them in silence.
That warm, familial scene radiated something like molten rock — and it made every nerve in her body pull taut.
Could it be... that Kate actually has feelings for Malfoy?
Almost immediately, a fierce surge of urgency sent her scrambling through every interaction she could recall between Kate and Malfoy.
But no matter how she turned it over, everything she could remember pointed to Kate being cold and indifferent toward Malfoy, and Malfoy being openly antagonistic toward Kate in return.
Those two... they couldn't possibly...
She caught herself. She was obviously overthinking this. She reached up to wipe the perspiration from her forehead — and found a handkerchief suddenly extended toward her.
"I noticed you'd been sweating for a while. Is it too hot in here?" Kate asked, her voice gentle with concern.
Hermione blinked, startled. She took the handkerchief a little hesitantly and pressed it to her forehead. "I'm fine. They should be back any moment now."
Right. Kate had even noticed she was sweating. Everything she'd just been imagining must have been an illusion.
If anyone's to blame, it's this absolutely sweltering hut.
They didn't have to wait long. Hagrid came hurrying back with Harry and Ron, and the moment the door swung open, he made straight for Kate.
"I ran into the centaur Ronan on the way," he said, his expression grave. "He told me a unicorn was attacked. After it was rescued, it gave birth to a foal — and then it died."
The composed look on Kate's face fell in an instant. Something sorrowful flickered in her eyes. "So I wasn't able to save it after all."
Though given the circumstances at the time, letting it live long enough to deliver its foal safely was already the best possible outcome.
"What happened out there?" Hagrid pressed urgently.
Kate didn't hesitate. She recounted everything, then added, "The fact that someone was drinking unicorn blood — make sure you tell the Headmaster."
"Hold on," Malfoy cut in, frowning. "What does drinking unicorn blood actually do?"
"Killing a unicorn is an act of monstrous cruelty," Hermione said, stepping in to explain.
"Unicorn blood can sustain life — even in someone who is at death's very door. But the person who drinks it pays a terrible price."
"From the moment it touches their lips, they are cursed to live a half-life — a cursed life, neither truly alive nor dead."
That was knowledge she'd read from books.
Malfoy's face went pale. "I don't understand. If you're going to be cursed for the rest of your life, you'd be better off dead!"
"Exactly," Harry agreed, nodding, his gaze drifting toward the others with quiet meaning. "Unless the person only needs it to buy time — long enough to get their hands on something else. Something that could restore them completely."
The Philosopher's Stone. Capable of granting immortality.
Everyone in the room — except Malfoy — already knew it was hidden somewhere inside Hogwarts castle.
When they'd encountered Ronan, they had also met Firenze, who had just stood witness to the unicorn's birth. Firenze had shared with Harry the secret written in the stars — a secret that pointed to his scar, or more precisely, to the one who had made it.
And with that, the identity of the shadowy figure behind Quirrell — the one who had broken into Gringotts, attempted to pass through the three-headed dog's chamber, and now killed a unicorn — had become unmistakably clear.
Only the desperate, merciless Dark Lord from eleven years ago would do something like this.
Harry had hoped, desperately, that the destiny Firenze had read in the stars was false. But now it seemed that hope was slipping away.
For some reason, though, something about all of it continued to nag at him.
They'd wanted to know what was hidden in the three-headed dog's chamber — and Hagrid had let it slip. They'd wanted to find the one pulling Quirrell's strings — and Voldemort had appeared that very night, killing the unicorn.
Everything had arrived suddenly. And yet it all felt a little too convenient, didn't it?
He instinctively wanted to ask Kate about it — but when he looked up, he found Kate with her head drooping against Hermione's shoulder, her expression hollow and lost.
Right. She hadn't been able to save the unicorn. She must be devastated.
And besides — Kate was only thirteen. Just a child, the same as him. How could she possibly have been using any of this to guide him?
The suspicion crumbled the moment it formed. Harry stepped forward. "It's late. Let's all go back to the dormitories and get some rest. We can talk more tomorrow."
He draped the Invisibility Cloak over Kate's shoulders. "Hermione, will you walk her back?"
"No need," Malfoy said, setting Dark Cloud down. "Shafiq and I are in the same House."
She spared Hermione a brief, unreadable glance — then grabbed Kate by the arm and marched her out the door.
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