By her second year, Darla had already established herself as the "Silver Queen" of the Slytherin common room. She was popular, she was brilliant, and she possessed a social grace that Draco with his constant posturing could only dream of. But while her housemates spent their time mocking "mudbloods" and "blood traitors," Darla found her gaze wandering toward the outskirts of the castle.
She was starting to realize that being a Malfoy meant living in a house of mirrors; everything was a reflection of what you were supposed to be, never what you actually were.
The transition to her third year brought a new weight. The air in the castle felt thinner, charged with the fear of Sirius Black's escape. It was on a cold November afternoon, while the rest of Slytherin was busy planning a prank on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, that Darla found herself in the North Tower, seeking a moment of silence.
Instead, she found Luna Lovegood.
The younger Ravenclaw was standing by a window, staring out at the Forbidden Forest. She was wearing a necklace of butterbeer corks and had one shoe missing.
"It's the Nargles," Luna said, her voice dreamy and distant, not even turning around. "They're particularly mischievous near the Divination classrooms. They like the smell of tea leaves."
Darla leaned against the stone archway, crossing her arms. "Most people would just call it 'theft,' Luna. Someone took your shoe."
Luna turned then. Her large, protuberant eyes drifted over Darla, not with the usual intimidation most students showed the Malfoys, but with a terrifyingly blunt curiosity.
"You have a very loud mind, Darla Malfoy," Luna remarked. "It sounds like a bird trapped in a cage. Flap, flap, flap. It's quite exhausting."
Darla froze. Her Legilimency was a secret she guarded with iron will, yet this second-year girl had just reached out and plucked the truth from the air as if it were a floating feather.
"My mind is perfectly quiet," Darla snapped, her "sharp tongue" flashing. "And you're being eccentric for the sake of attention. It's beneath a Ravenclaw."
Luna didn't look offended. She merely smiled. "It's alright to be afraid of the cage. My father says the most important things are the ones we can't see. Like the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Or the way you look at Harry when you think no one is watching."
Darla's heart hammered against her ribs. "I don't look at Potter."
"You do," Luna insisted softly. "You look at him like you're waiting for him to tell you that you don't have to be a masterpiece. It's very brave of you, really. To be so sad in such a pretty dress."
For the first time in her life, Darla found herself speechless. She should have insulted her. She should have walked away. But instead, she reached into her cloak, pulled out her wand, and cast a simple Summoning Charm.
"Accio Luna's shoe."
A moment later, a stray school shoe came flying from behind a suit of armor down the hall. Darla caught it and handed it to Luna.
"The 'Nargles' left it by the trophy room," Darla said, her voice regaining its "perpetual calm." "And Luna? If you tell anyone about my 'loud mind,' I'll have to find a charm that keeps your mouth shut for a month."
Luna took the shoe, her smile widening. "You wouldn't. You're much too responsible to get detention for a Silence Charm. See you around, Darla."
As the Ravenclaw drifted away, humming a tune that sounded suspiciously like a dirge, Darla felt a shift in her internal compass. She had spent years trying to be the perfect Malfoy. But in the presence of someone who saw through every mask, she realized that the cage Luna spoke of wasn't the castle, or her House.
It was her name.
And for a girl who would one day turn into a Peregrine Falcon, the cage was beginning to feel far too small.
Darla watched Luna disappear around the corner, the silence of the corridor rushing back in to fill the space. She turned back toward the window, but the peace she had sought was gone.
"You know, she's right about the shoes."
Darla spun around, her hand instinctively dropping to the wand pocket of her robes. Standing at the base of the spiral staircase was Harry Potter. He looked exhausted; his hair was messier than usual, and his glasses were sliding down the bridge of his nose.
"Potter," Darla said, her voice snapping back into its polished, aristocratic chill. "Creeping around towers now? I suppose the fame wasn't providing enough excitement."
Harry didn't rise to the bait. He stepped into the light of the arched window, looking at her with an expression that wasn't quite the hostility he usually reserved for Draco. It was more like... wary recognition.
"I wasn't creeping. I was headed to the Owlery," he said, gesturing to the crumpled parchment in his hand. He paused, looking at the spot where Luna had been standing. "I saw what you did. Giving her the shoe back. My bit of advice? Don't let your brother find out you have a soul. It'll ruin his reputation."
Darla's heavily lidded eyes narrowed. She felt that familiar tug of Legilimency not a forced intrusion, but a sudden, vivid sense of his internal state. He felt like a live wire frayed, sparking, and carrying a weight that would have crushed most thirteen-year-olds.
"My brother is a boy who plays at being a man," Darla said, her sharp tongue softening just a fraction. "And you, Potter, are a boy who thinks he has to carry the world. Both of you are remarkably tiresome."
Harry let out a short, dry laugh. "Tell me something I don't know." He took a step closer, his green eyes searching hers. "Why do you do it, Darla? You're the Head Girl in the making. Everyone likes you. Even the Gryffindors don't have a bad word to say about you, which is saying something. Why stay in the middle of... all that?" He jerked his head toward the dungeons.
Darla felt a flash of irritation, but beneath it was a strange, soaring thrill. No one ever asked her why. They just assumed she was a Malfoy, and therefore, she was a certain way.
"Because I am a Malfoy," she said, her strong jaw setting. "And unlike you, I don't have the luxury of being a 'hero.' I have a family to keep together. I have a brother who would drown if I weren't holding his head above water."
She stepped toward him, her 5'4" frame making her look up at him, though her presence made her feel twice as tall.
"You think the world is divided into good people and Death Eaters, Harry. But it isn't. Some of us are just trying to survive the choices our fathers made."
She reached out a move so bold it surprised even herself and straightened his glasses with a quick, clinical flick of her finger. Her hand lingered for a fraction of a second near his forehead, and in that moment, she saw it: a flash of a green light and a high-pitched laugh that wasn't his.
She pulled back as if burned.
"Go send your letter, Potter," she said, her voice trembling slightly before she forced it back into "perpetual calm." "And try not to get killed. It would be dreadfully boring if Draco didn't have someone to obsess over."
Harry stared at her, stunned by the touch and the sudden intensity in her eyes. "Darla?"
"Goodnight, Harry," she said, turning her back on him and walking away, her ice-blonde curls bouncing with every purposeful step.
She didn't look back, but as she descended the stairs toward the Slytherin common room, she felt the "loud mind" Luna had mentioned. For the first time, she wasn't just thinking about her family's principles. She was thinking about a boy with green eyes who was just as trapped as she was.