Kit hadn't expected to see her parents at Platform 9 ¾ the following day.

She had just stepped off the train beside Blaise, as they were both going to visit their families. Typically, she went with him to his place on a taxi, then continued the rest of the way alone to the Thompson Manor. However, she was greeted by her parents, standing arm in arm near the barrier that separated the wizards from the Muggles.

"Katherine!" Kit gritted her teeth as she walked up to her mother. "Good grief, I see that you've gained weight," Alison huffed. "You'll need to start doing more exercise. Clearly allowing you to join the Quidditch team was insufficient."

Kit curtsied with a blank expression. Her father grasped her arm and led her out. "I was informed that you and Draco were at the ball together last night. I'm pleased to hear that. I was afraid you'd disappoint us, as usual."

"Who was your spy?" scoffed Kit. "Who'd you have to pay to inform you?"

It was strange that her father didn't answer right away. Usually, Kenneth Thompson prided himself on always having the answers, always controlling what people got to know. For him to hesitate...

"Severus," said Kenneth simply, though Kit suspected this wasn't at all true. "He is a family friend, and we've been corresponding since your unfortunate outburst earlier in the year whilst defending a Mudblood girl."

"Don't you dare call her that!" Kit snapped as her parents yanked her along the crowded hall of people. "Snape fucking deserved—"

Kenneth suddenly squeezed Kit's arm so hard, that the girl let out a panicked squeak, and tried to wriggle free of his grasp, only for him to press with more force. "Don't you dare speak to me like that about your Professor," snarled her father so only Kit and her mother could hear. "He is our colleague and you will not disrespect him. Especially not for the sake of a Mudblood. I already deal with enough of those disgusting creatures at the Ministry because they're trying to be inclusive. You may have gone to waste until now but I will keep reminding you to comport yourself accordingly. As a matter of fact, you should expect a punishment when we arrive home."

Kit tensed, and stopped trying to break free of her father. Kenneth eased his grip, but Kit could hardly feel her hand anymore. She wiggled her fingers, and winced as pain shot back up her arm. Her hand was swirling red and white as feeling was beginning to come back. Any harder and Kenneth would have broken several of her fingers. He'd broken them once, a long time ago, though the memory was too fuzzy for Kit to recall what'd happened.

When they arrived at the Thompson Manor, Alison Thompson made her way leisurely to the sitting room. She had no intention of watching the beating that was about to take place. Kit's mother was abusive on her own accord, but she never chose to witness her husband's wrath upon their daughter. Kit hated her mother for that. She never cared to stop it, and she only continued the cycle later on.

Hours later once Kit had bathed and examined the new series of bruises that lined her abdomen, chest, and arms, she wrapped herself in a delicate robe and curled up on her bed. She could vaguely hear a violin playing— probably one of the servants using soothing music to calm another of her mother's migraines. Kit wasn't sure how music helped. Alison Thompson conjured up her own storms and gave herself the migraines to begin with.

The following morning, Kit was unpleased to find that the Malfoys had been invited over— Draco included. Her mother barged into her room to show Kit what she was required to wear.

"Mother, this dress is ridiculous!" Kit hissed as her mother tossed the fabric onto the bed. "This is going to make me feel really uncomfortable— and it's ugly!"

"I said to wear it, so you will," Alison snarled. She then suddenly grabbed Kit's face, making the girl shriek. The woman pried her mouth open and held her roughly in place, before abruptly delivering a hard slap onto Kit's face. Kit cried out, and the woman tossed her to the floor.

"You adjusted your teeth without permission," seethed Alison, extracting her wand. "Perhaps we can let that slide. But perhaps it also indicates we are giving you far too much freedom! You are a stupid, worthless child, and now you've gone and attempted to fix yourself, as if that'll change how idiotic, meritless, and disgusting you are? Why couldn't you be more like your sister? She cared about her image, she was beautiful and intelligent— something you will never be!"

Kit crawled back on the floor, trying to get away from her mother. But it seemed Alison was no longer in pursuit of her. "You will put on the dress," commanded Alison with a low growl. "You will fix that stupid face of yours to look at least decent to look at. You will come down and behave like a proper lady with none of that Mudblood-loving riffraff. And you will converse and sit beside your future husband at all times. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, mother," said Kit shakily, feeling her entire face stinging from the slap.

"Good," hissed Alison. "I'm being completely serious, Katherine— if you come down looking trashy... I'll make sure to teach Draco how to punish you in the future." She looked her up and down. "He's getting the worst end of this deal, mind you. I bet when you're married, he'll have several mistresses around in order to feel some sort of pleasure. Something you'll never be able to give him. You're too inadequate for him."

Kit wanted to cry. But she wouldn't give her mother the satisfaction. It seemed this arranged marriage was really just meant to be torture for Kit.

Once she heard the familiar sound of greeting downstairs, she descended in the uncomfortably short and very revealing dress that her mother had chosen for her. Underneath, she'd snuck a tank top and shorts. If she got a second of freedom, she'd change.

Lucius and Narcissa, as usual, engulfed Kit in a hug. She felt awkward. They may be her godparents, but now they were going to become her in-laws. She didn't like that. Narcissa was a good godmother, but Lucius was always very detached and only spoke to her parents.

Draco came forward from behind his parents, and gazed over Kit before turning his attention to Kenneth and Alison, who engulfed him in a warm hug. Kit had never experienced that.

"Children, now that you're together, we should really get to see how you'll interact," said Kenneth as Draco very awkwardly shook Kit's hand. She gave him a wry grin.

"Go on, kiss her, Draco, it's only proper," prompted Lucius, making Kit go rigid.

"Actually, Father, I feel it'd be more special if we didn't kiss until our wedding day," said Draco convincingly. Kit suppose that he, like her, was disgusted at the idea of them having to lock lips. "It keeps the suspense building up."

"How adorable," said Narcissa, smiling as she rubbed Draco's back. She pulled Kit into another hug, before separating in order for the parents to go and sit near each other at the dining table.

"Hi," said Draco as he walked alongside Kit. "You er— put on some makeup again."

"Yeah, and?" muttered Kit, crossing her arms.

"I was just noticing," he mumbled. Once they neared the table, he pulled a chair out for Kit, but to spite him, she went to another chair, pulled it out for herself, and plopped down.

Their meal came, complete with steamed potatoes in creamy sauce, garlic bread, ham, turkey, venison, and roast duck all available to have as a main dish, and of course, Alison Thompson's signature Christmas chicken pot pie.

"Alison, you've really outdone yourself," said Lucius. "I'm surprised you don't make the servants cook."

"I prefer them to clean on the days they are here," she said wryly. "I don't like them to come often enough anyway. Cooking is something I do still enjoy."

Kit almost had to laugh. Her mother was just a control freak.

"Now, Katherine, Draco told us that you looked ravishing in your dress last night," said Narcissa. "I do adore the fact that your sister's dress fits you so well.

"I highly doubt he used the word 'ravishing,'" said Kit in the nicest tone she could. To ensure it did not sound snarky, she added a light and very false giggle. "But yes, I'm pleased it fit. It was comfortable to be in."

"Draco tells us you spent the entire night seated and chatting," added Lucius. Kit glanced sideways at Draco, who was helping himself to the roast duck.

"Yes, we did," she answered cautiously. "Neither of us were up for dancing."

"So we heard," Kenneth mused. "You do know you'll at the very least need to dance at your wedding, yes?"

"Of course, sir," answered Draco. Kit noticed he seemed quite eager to answer anything regarding their arranged marriage. "We'll practice when it comes time for that. But dancing isn't really my thing anyway. Observing is better."

"Smart boy, you are," said Kenneth, pointing at Draco with his fork. "Observing is the key to business and success. You learn to observe the right things... and you'll learn to manipulate people accordingly."

Kit gritted her teeth as Alison asked, "Draco, what career are you hoping for? Or will you simply invest to earn money?"

That seemed to put Draco on the spot, in a way he didn't like. "Er— I haven't given an immense amount of thought into it... I suppose I wouldn't mind working somewhere in the Ministry."

A lie, thought Kit. Draco had told her long ago that he'd always wanted to be a Professor, or a Quidditch player, or some other bizarre job. He would never be satisfied with a Ministry job— it wasn't in the cards for him.

"And you, Katherine?" asked Lucius. "Unless, of course, you'll be a housewife and mother."

"I want to be a Healer," said Kit.

"A Healer will hardly leave you time to be a mother," said Lucius.

"Many women have managed," retorted Kit, her tone not so pleasant anymore. "My entire purpose isn't to be a mother. I might not even be able to have children." She knew she should have stopped, but if there was one thing Kit didn't know how to do, it was how to quit while she was ahead. "I don't even want children to begin with— the idea of them is so utterly revolting. Just because I've got the organs for it, doesn't mean it's my main purpose in life."

"Katherine Cordelia Thompson!" hissed Kenneth. "Apologize to your godfather immediately."

"She needn't apologize," said Narcissa, looking like she at the very least understood Kit's point of view. She supposed maybe long ago, Narcissa had never been able to see herself as a mother either.

"She should learn to respect her elders," snapped Kenneth. "Apologize now, Katherine."

Kit gave him a sour look before turning to Lucius. "I'm sorry, godfather. I didn't mean to be rude. I just went off on a tangent."

"You are forgiven." That was one thing Kit liked about Lucius— he was forgiving and he never went off on her even when she was rude to him. She supposed he'd had worse retorts with Draco as a son.

"Anyway, I heard about Douglas's passing," said Lucius. "St. Mungo's reported it in the Daily Prophet."

"I saw," muttered Kenneth, taking a swig of his drink. "Good riddance, I say. My father gave him his name and the idiot used it to besmirch the Thompson reputation. He deserved everything he got."

Kit knew who they were talking about. Her uncle, Douglas Thompson, was Kenneth's younger brother. He had been in Ravenclaw, but he'd also been disowned because of it. Kit had heard that he'd fallen ill years ago, around the time when Kit was two. She wished she could have met him. She hated the fact her father hated his brother so much, just because he was in another House and had almost married a Muggle-born woman, until her untimely death fighting in the war.

"I say, did your father ever hear about him falling ill?" asked Lucius. "Douglas Sr. was still alive when it occurred."

"My father never cared to know his whereabouts. I only ever found out because I was still listed as next of kin from the time Douglas's shoulder was mauled by a chimaera back when he was still off, frolicking, and being a sniveling Mudblood lover in Romania or Egypt or wherever. I told them to stop trying and to just let him die, but Douglas was still conscious enough to refute my orders. I suppose the idiot finally gave out."

"He was comatose for five years, wasn't he?" asked Narcissa.

"That's what we were told," answered Alison. "But we never visited to make sure. Regrettably, we should have, to make sure that he died earlier."

Kit was thankful when the meal ended. She immediately made her way out to her pond, only to discover Draco following her.

"What the bloody hell do you want?" she hissed.

"They said I had to go with you," he mumbled.

She ignored him and trudged the rest of the way, tearing off her dress. A seam ripped, and Kit gritted her teeth for what felt like the millionth time in the last twenty-four hours. "Shit," she said to herself, discarding the dress on a rock as she adjusted her tank top and sat down. She felt a bit self conscious as she gazed at the hair on her arms and looked down at her stomach chub, but she tried not to focus on it. It'd just make Draco tease her, or something.

It seemed, however, that teasing was not on his agenda. He said nothing for awhile, but then cleared his throat. "Did they do that to you?"

Kit was unsure what he meant, until she noticed him pointing to a bruise on her underarm— one of the many new ones. "Oh... yeah. Yesterday. I guess it was for cursing at Snape that time, and for being 'rude' or whatever."

Draco shifted a little closer to her. "Listen... Kit Kat—"

"Please, don't talk," she mumbled. "I don't care."

He let out a loud sigh, and extracted a copy of The Daily Prophet that he had tucked under his arm. "First page," he murmured as he handed it to her. Kit didn't look at him as she took it, but her eyes went wide.

DUMBLEDORE'S GIANT MISTAKE

Albus Dumbledore, eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has never been afraid to make controversial staff appointments, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. In September of this year, he hired Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, the notoriously jinx-happy ex-Auror, to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, a decision that caused many raised eyebrows at the Ministry of Magic, given Moody's well-known habit of attacking anybody who makes a sudden movement in his presence. Mad-Eye Moody, however, looks responsible and kindly when set beside the part-human Dumbledore employs to teach Care of Magical Creatures.

Rubeus Hagrid, who admits to being expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, has enjoyed the position of gamekeeper at the school ever since a job secured for him by Dumbledore. Last year, however, Hagrid used his mysterious influence over the headmaster to secure the additional post of Care of Magical Creatures teacher, over the heads of many better-qualified candidates.

An alarmingly large and ferocious-looking man, Hagrid has been using his newfound authority to terrify the students in his care with a succession of horrific creatures. While Dumbledore turns a blind eye, Hagrid has maimed several pupils during a series of lessons that many admit to being "very frightening."

"My friend Draco Malfoy was attacked by a hippogriff, and another friend of mine, Vincent Crabbe, got a bad bite off a flobberworm," says Pansy Parkinson, a fourth-year student. "We all hate Hagrid, but we're just too scared to say anything."

Hagrid has no intention of ceasing his campaign of intimidation, however. In conversation with a Daily Prophet reporter last month, he admitted breeding creatures he has dubbed "Blast- Ended Skrewts," highly dangerous crosses between manti-cores and fire-crabs. Pansy Parkinson admits to witnessing several students receive terrible burns from them. The creation of new breeds of magical creature is, of course, an activity usually closely observed by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Hagrid, however, considers himself to be above such petty restrictions.

"I was just having some fun," he says, before hastily changing the subject. As if this were not enough, the Daily Prophet has now unearthed evidence that Hagrid is not— as he has always pretended— a pure-blood wizard. He is not, in fact, even pure human. His mother, we can exclusively reveal, is none other than the giantess Fridwulfa, whose whereabouts are currently unknown. Bloodthirsty and brutal, the giants brought themselves to the point of extinction by warring amongst themselves during the last century. The handful that remained joined the ranks of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and were responsible for some of the worst mass Muggle killings of his reign of terror.

While many of the giants who served He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were killed by Aurors working against the Dark Side, Fridwulfa was not among them. It is possible she escaped to one of the giant communities still existing in foreign mountain ranges. If his antics during Care of Magical Creatures lessons are any guide, however, Fridwulfa's son appears to have inherited her brutal nature.

In a bizarre twist, Hagrid is reputed to have developed a close friendship with the boy who brought around You-Know-Who's fall from power— thereby driving Hagrid's own mother, like the rest of You-Know-Who's supporters, into hiding. Perhaps Harry Potter is unaware of the unpleasant truth about his large friend— but Albus Dumbledore surely has a duty to ensure that Harry Potter, along with his fellow students, is warned about the dangers of associating with part-giants.

Kit was shaking with fury when she reached the end of the article. "I can't— she dared— I just—" She already couldn't stand both Rita Skeeter and Pansy Parkinson, and this had just made it worse. "I'm going to punch her so hard she'll— she'll—"

"I'm sorry," Draco mumbled. "If I had known, I would have stopped Parkinson from saying anything. And I would have paid Skeeter off not to publish this. I don't particularly like Hagrid, but I know he's not actually a bad bloke..."

"Well, no point in saying any of that, seeing as it's already out," Kit mumbled. It didn't matter what Draco would have done. It hadn't happened, and that was that. "Ugh— Parkinson is really asking for her bone structure to be rearranged—"

"You can't beat her up, Kit Kat," said Draco, ignoring the fact that Kit didn't want him to call her that. "You'll just get in trouble— they'll hurt you worse this time—"

"I don't care! She can't just run her mouth! A bad bite off a flobberworm, my ass... flobberworms don't even have teeth! They're worms!" She lay back on the grass angrily.

Draco shifted uncomfortably beside her. "Do you er— want to play Quidditch, maybe? I um, I was remembering how I taught you to fly a broom out here."

Kit was clearly not in the mood. She turned on her side to face away from him, wincing as she rested against a particularly large bruise on her side. Draco gazed over her back, noticing her scars clearly for the first time, along with more of the freshest bruises. He gritted his teeth audibly, making Kit frown out of confusion, as she didn't initially know what the noise was. She turned back, and saw he looked angry.

"I'm going to talk to them about that," Draco grumbled. "Is that why you didn't want to dance? I thought you just felt exposed because of the dress back