Aim & Ignite by shostakobitch
Summary: "I know about Lily." said the girl. "That you loved her." 

Severus froze mid-footfall. He felt as though he’d had the wind knocked out of him. 

"She's my mum." her chin lifted, her eyes clear. "She wrote me that letter to tell me about you. You're the only person she really mentioned, but I guess that makes sense, since you're my father. Who else was she supposed to talk about?"
Categories: Parental Snape > Biological Father Snape, Teacher Snape > Professor Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Draco, Dumbledore, Hermione, Lily, Ron
Snape Flavour: Canon Snape
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Canon, Family, Fluff, General, Hurt/Comfort
Media Type: Story
Tags: Alternate Universe, Girl!Harry
Takes Place: 1st summer before Hogwarts, 1st Year, 2nd summer, 2nd Year
Warnings: Alcohol Use, Bullying, Profanity, Torture, Violence
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 24 Completed: No Word count: 168752 Read: 32967 Published: 24 Apr 2020 Updated: 05 Nov 2023

Story Notes:
Hi everyone -- a really, REALLY time ago I wrote a story called Red Sorrow. A few days ago, I started writing again.

I'm prepared to see this story through till the end of first year. Beyond that... we shall see.

I hope you're all well in these crazy times.

1. Chapter 1: girl by shostakobitch

2. Chapter 2: letters from someone by shostakobitch

3. Chapter 3: unfathered by shostakobitch

4. Chapter 4: trolling by shostakobitch

5. Chapter 5: white blank page by shostakobitch

6. Chapter 6: axe to grind by shostakobitch

7. Chapter 7: for those below by shostakobitch

8. Chapter 8: weight of living by shostakobitch

9. Chapter 9: lily: part i by shostakobitch

10. Chapter 10: the veil opens by shostakobitch

11. Chapter 11: sincerity is scary by shostakobitch

12. Chapter 12: wait for it by shostakobitch

13. Chapter 13: unchartered by shostakobitch

14. Chapter 14: man in the mirror by shostakobitch

15. Chapter 15: these ties that bind by shostakobitch

16. Chapter 16: the rising deep by shostakobitch

17. Chapter 17: shadow of the threat by shostakobitch

18. Chapter 18: the kids aren't alright by shostakobitch

19. Chapter 19: one last breath by shostakobitch

20. Chapter 20: child of wonder by shostakobitch

21. Chapter 21: lily: part ii by shostakobitch

22. Chapter 22: dog days are over by shostakobitch

23. Chapter 23: twelve by shostakobitch

24. Chapter 24: prelude by shostakobitch

Chapter 1: girl by shostakobitch

Aim & Ignite

“Until we have seen someone’s darkness, we don’t really know who they are. Until we have forgiven someone’s darkness, we don’t really know what love is.”

— Marianne Williamson

.

The face in the mirroring was frowning.

The Girl scowled back, wiggling her eyebrows to add some vibrato. It wasn't anything to be proud of, but it was rather fearsome, if she said so herself. The freckles over the bridge of her nose took away from it though. She liked that particular part about her face. Her mum had freckles in the same exact spot, and her mum had been beautiful. The scowl, however, should definitely work when intimidating the postman.

She hated the quiet of night. There was something about it that rubbed her the wrong way. The Girl didn’t know what it was — perhaps it was that she was never really tired, or because she disliked the dark. When she’d been younger, the dark had comforted her, because that meant the Dursleys had gone to bed. The dark had gotten worse though, the older she’d gotten. The dark wasn’t comforting at all when you had to walk home from the grocery store by yourself because Aunt Petunia had left you there.

It was cold, the kind that focused on your hands and feet. The rain made a patpatpat sound against the windowpane, and The Girl was pretty sure that it was going to turn to hail soon. It was that sort of summer rain, it settled into the house and then turned into a monsoon within seconds. Lightning cracked across the sky, making her flinch. She had bad dreams sometimes about flashing lights, except in her dreams, they were green. That was one thing (maybe the only thing) she missed about the cupboard — she couldn’t see the lightning from in there.

As The Girl padded the length of the floorboards of Dudley’s second bedroom — now her bedroom— to the door, her eyes briefly flitted to the stairs. She could’ve sworn she heard something, but the letters never came at night, and Uncle Vernon had been snoring loudly for quite some time now. She was going to try for one tomorrow — or was it today already? — but no, she was going to do better than try. She was going to get one of those letters, and she was going to find out who was trying to write to her so badly.

Once back inside her bedroom, she reached for the lock on the window, peeking over her shoulder at the door for any signs that she’d alerted her aunt and uncle that she was still awake. It was hard to tell what would set them off sometimes. Usually, the Dursleys were too stupid to figure out the little rules she broke here and there, but she would be lying if she said they didn’t take her by surprise sometimes. The window shouldn’t be a problem. She knew she could fit through and drop down without making much noise. One time, when she’d been younger, she’d stuck her head out while cleaning, and Dudley had catapulted her right out. She’d had a nasty bruise for days and a sprained ankle that had only been taken care of because the school nurse had called Aunt Petunia, but she was older now, and a whole lot sneakier.

The soft glow that came with nighttime filtered in through the glass as she slowly unhooked the lock, tensing up and readying herself to dive back into bed should she hear footsteps coming down the hall. Thankfully, nothing happened, and she grinned. A soft breeze filtered in, droplets of rain hitting her skin. It felt good — she liked rain (without the lightning) a great deal more than she liked night. There was something soothing about it she couldn’t put her finger on. Hopefully the rain would drown out the sound of her escape.

She wondered if her mum had liked summer. She wondered what mum would have said to her… if she’d be able to reassure her that being nervous was ridiculous. She wondered if the sun brought out the freckles on mum’s face like they did on her own.

The picture she’d swiped from the attic smiled up at her. Petunia had screamed and screamed when she’d showed it to her. She’d tried to rip it up —

the girl was too fast, Vernon, get that horrid picture and burn it I don’t want to SEE HER AGAIN

“I’m gonna get one of those letters.” she whispered to no one. “You wait and see.”

The Girl sucked in a deep breath, and launched herself out the window.

It began with Severus’ least favorite thing — children.

While saying such things out loud would probably have created an uproar amongst the staff, he spent each waking moment hating them. The Sorting was, admittedly, the most tolerable of the nights, but it only reminded Severus that very soon, he’d have a brand new batch of dunderheads to keep from killing one another, and themselves. Dumbledore belittled him every summer, just before the start of term, to update his syllabus, to find something worth teaching in the little cretins, but Severus couldn’t understand why he bothered. He hated them all, each and every one. There were far too many of them, in his opinion, to which Dumbledore would reply that enrollment had actually dwindled throughout the years due to the war. That little fun fact was enough to shut the both of them up.

They both knew why he was really here, and it wasn’t to teach children. Those little monsters turned the castle into a demon-sent-hellspawn wasteland — Hogwarts was so different when it wasn’t spilling over with those… things. Severus could almost enjoy the long days of summer, the way the wind moved through the grass and the only voices were its whispers in the empty halls.

The rest of the staff had busied themselves away with things that seemed silly and inconsequential to Severus. Minerva had been flustered by the letters back and forth from parents, Sprout was rearranging the layout of the greenhouse, and Flitwick had been transfiguring his desk back and forth between designs for several hours now. Severus only knew of these activities because of Dumbledore — he’d found him in the dungeons this morning, using his genuine interest in their activities to segway into another, more repulsive, subject. Severus was getting ahead of himself, though, term had not even started yet. It was far too early for character assassinations.

Severus watched the last rays of summer filter in through the castle windows, wishing he could fade away alongside them. Beside him, Dumbledore watched the sunset with an annoyingly pensive look on his face. “Have you given any thought to what we were discussing this morning?”

Severus barely turned his head to acknowledge him. “No.”

Despite his cold reply, Dumbledore chuckled. “Humor an old man, my boy.”

He was, of course, referring to something Severus did not want to talk about, and if Severus did not want to, he would, under any circumstances, not. Dumbledore had found him here for this precise reason. To his relief, Dumbeldore gave a great sigh, his mustache twitching in a knowing smile. There came a familiar crackling sound soon after. As Severus glanced sideways at the old man, he found him unwrapping one of those Muggle sweets — a lemon-drop.

Dumbledore caught him staring and stopped just as he was about to pop one into his mouth. “I’m sorry, my boy, did you…?”

“No,” Severus said, looking back toward the sunset, which had hidden itself behind the treeline.

Dumbledore twinkled at him. “You did enjoy the toffee flavored ones, I believe.”

He gave a sound that was passable enough for agreement. While Dumbledore waited patiently beside him, Severus forced himself to continue ignoring him, hoping he would simply drop the subject and leave him to sulk by himself. Dumbledore, however, was an annoying and meddlesome old man, and no matter how many times Severus pointed out this fact, it never deterred him.

“You must stop worrying about the world ending today.” said Dumbledore. “It’s already tomorrow in Australia.”

Severus stifled the urge to roll his eyes. “How unfortunate.”

You’re sulking, Conscience told him, is rather pathetic.

“My boy,” Dumbledore gave him an understanding look. “I know where your trepidation comes from, but I would be remiss if I did not inquire as to the state of your mind these past few days. I can only imagine…”

He trailed off, following Severus’ gaze to the sunset, which was completely enveloped by the trees, now. The sky was a brilliant red, the clouds purple tufts of smoke decorating the tree-landen horizon. Off in the distance, he could hear whatever creatures Hagrid had brought in for the night calling to one another, or perhaps Hagrid for a feeding. They sounded like hippogriffs, but they were distant, and the sound distorted.

“I’ve decided to send Hagrid.” Dumbledore said, motioning to the smoke that drifted across their field of vision, most likely coming from Hagrid’s hut. “He insisted, seeing as he brought her to Lily’s sister. We haven’t received notice from her yet, but there’s still time. Hagrid suggested he go on her birthday. What do you think, my boy?”

Severus tensed. He would not answer. Would not would not would NOT —

“I wonder,” said Dumbledore, when Severus did not respond yet again. “if Tom realizes.”

Severus felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. He hadn’t mentioned the Dark Lord directly this morning — he’d danced around it with pleasantries and such — but this was the first time in years he’d said his name. It still unnerved him that Dumbledore used the Dark Lord’s birth name, as if the being with the red eyes and cruel, high voice could be reduced to such a common, Muggle name. The Dark Lord was something you could not comprehend a beginning to, like a human creator. Wizards and Muggles alike could fathom something living forever, but not something having always existed. It was an unreachable place in the mind.

“It feels as though it is another start to term.” Severus finally said, making sure his voice was devoid of any emotion. “New students joining the general population is inconsequential to my current state of mind. I’m sure the Dark Lord feels the same, if he’s truly still out there.”

He wouldn’t bring up the girl — he would not. He rarely thought of her, rarely remembered that her arrival at Hogwarts drew closer at the end of every school term. Severus could not acknowledge both the continued existence (whatever quality it may be, at this point, anyways) of the Dark Lord and Lily’s daughter. The Dark Lord was petrifying enough, but to admit Lily and Potter’s child was someone real, his greatest fear come to pass…

Severus didn’t know what scared him more, the Dark Lord, or that girl.

Dumbledore was quiet for another long moment. “Well, I applaud you for treating the situation as such. I’m sure she will have enough people paying her unwanted attention… having someone treat her no differently than the others is reassuring. I know Minerva is anxious to have the girl join us… but she admits openly that Lily was one of her favorite pupils. It’s different, I suppose.”

The old man stared at him intently over half-moon spectacles, trying to draw out some sort of reaction. Severus had forbidden it, and Dumbledore had respected that, but as the days drew nearer to Lily’s daughter beginning her education at Hogwarts, the memory of That Night had begun to crack itself open amongst the staff. They whispered about it excitedly amongst themselves, with looks of both somber remembrance and bright anticipation. Severus, however, had taken the memory of Godric’s Hollow and the Dark Lord’s last spell and locked it in an untouchable, unbreakable box. At it’s mention, though, the memory began to thump against its box and rattle the chains that had kept it buried all this time.

He was thankful, however, that Dumbledore had not said her name. It provoked the same reaction the Dark Lord’s did — if he did not acknowledge both until he had to, he could do this, for Lily.

“The girl is of no matter to me.” said Severus, not liking that he was being forced to admit her existence out loud. “You know I will do what I need to, if it is required. I sense that is what you’re after, really.”

“She’ll need that protection, Severus.” Dumbledore faced him fully now, his face full of something like expectation, but also a graveness that Severus hadn’t seen in several years. “Tom will return, and when he does, she will need us all. There is no easy way to say that. Her tenure here is not something to be gawked at… it’s to be a marker. I fear for her going forward, I do, but I have faith that she will be safe here…” Dumbledore trailed off, returning his gaze to the sunset. It wasn’t like him to speak of such things, and this unnerved Severus.

“Has something happened?” he asked sharply.

Dumbledore blinked at him in surprise. “No, no, my dear boy. I apologize, I was simply —”

He froze, suddenly, like he’d had a nasty shock. Severus turned towards him finally, fully, letting down his wary guard. As intentionally mysterious as the old man could be, this was not usual behavior for Dumbledore, even when he was trying to get his way. No, he used matters of the heart for that.

“The Blood Wards.” Dumbledore said. “They’ve fallen.”

It took Severus a moment to grasp what he was saying, but even if he hadn’t, the look on Dumbledore’s face would have been jarring enough. He would never forget that look — he’d never seen the Headmaster look alarmed, let alone afraid, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

“What do you —” before Severus could even finish, Dumbledore was offering him his arm.

“We must move, quickly.” he said, in a voice like lightning. There was no arguing with it, or refusing it. The aftermath, the thunder, was inevitable.

Severus took his arm.

——

The postman had not been the one delivering the letters, she’d found out. The Girl knew this because she’d hidden behind the hedges all morning, waiting, and when he did come waltzing down the road, the only thing he’d dropped off was the newspaper. Now her leg had a cramp, and she was covered in dirt and smelt like mulch. The backpack she’d been carrying was serving as a pillow, for now, since he hadn’t dared move all day.

Uncle Vernon had shouted for what sounded like an eternity once the sun had risen

these BLOODY LETTERS I’ll see them FIRED I’ll see them PENNILESS with these RUDDY UNWANTED LETTERS

and then, he’d REALLY started when Dudley had shouted from upstairs that she was gone, that the window was open, and then Petunia was shrieking

VERNON, Vernon the MOLDING around the window has been RUINED, that LITTLE —

They’d all gone very, very quiet after that. She didn’t even hear the telly for Dudley’s morning program turn on. She’d wondered, from behind her bush, if they were calling the police, or maybe they were deciding what to do amongst themselves. She’d briefly considered running in and grabbing one of the letters from the front door (it sounded like there were dozens of them again, based on how loud Uncle Vernon had been yelling) but she couldn’t hear where they were in the house. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do… she just needed one of those LETTERS.

There had been so many of them, and she felt like a numpty for not managing to grab at least one this past week. Uncle Vernon was mean and stupid, yes, but he was also about twenty times bigger than her. She could remember the first time she’d tried diving for one, and how his arm had swung and she’d gone flying back. He hadn’t even realized he’d done it, he was just so desperate to keep her from finding out who was writing. The Girl would never forgive Dudley for that first one, for shouting it out when her aunt and uncle had happily ignored her every morning before that, and ruining the only real chance she’d had then. It had felt like a dream you could remember feeling, but not what it was about. There was something special in that envelope, The Girl knew it.

And so here she’d sat, all day, behind the hedges beside the front door. Every now and again, she’d hear shuffling from inside the house, but no more yelling, or screaming, or threats. No one even came outside. At some point, she heard someone close the window to Dudley’s second bedroom, but that was it. She didn’t dare come out, she might’ve truly gone and driven them completely mental, and even then, once she got one of those letters, she wasn’t going back.

Around dinnertime, she could say she had not one, but two bee stings from hiding and a very empty stomach, but zero letters. She rubbed at her arm, trying to make the swelling go down, and was quite thankful she wasn’t allergic to bees. That was all she needed, to have an allergic reaction and die right there — and the Dursleys would probably get off scot-free too. They would have loved that.

She nearly leaped out of her skin when she finally heard the front door open. Dudley came barrelling out, dressed to the nines in a suit that was far too small for him. She remembered when Aunt Petunia bought him that, only a few months ago, and it had been pretty tight even then. Now it made Dudley look like an oversized beach ball. She was reminded of the day they’d tried to fit one of those in the trunk of the car, and it had looked like it was going to explode any minute.

Aunt Petunia was right behind him, fussing over his hair, which lay flat against his head. She was wearing heels that made a clackclackclack sound against the pavement, reminding The Girl of the rain from last night, pounding against her window. Aunt Petunia was wearing a fancy dress — white, just like the rest of the house.

“Diddykins, slow down!” she pleaded. “I need to finish combing the front —”

“MUUUM, I’m hungry. Let's go!” Dudley whined, slamming the car door behind him as he climbed in eagerly. He crossed his arms in a mocking pout that wasn’t real for one second, but conveyed his impatience to Aunt Petunia, who began apologizing profusely for making him wait.

A chuckle came from the front door — Uncle Vernon, who sounded… happy? That couldn’t be right, he’d been ranting and raving about the letters for a week now. He’d developed that weird twitch and was constantly looking out the windows, over his shoulder, as if whoever was sending them would appear out of thin air and attack.

“A fine night for a celebration, don’t you think Petunia dear?” Uncle Vernon smiled up at the sky, almost as if he was admiring the sunset.

The Girl had been admiring the sunset too, up until that point. Now, the purple and red in the sky reminded her of Uncle Vernon’s face when he was mad, which was quite an awful lot. He looked like a deranged, mutant pig when he was angry, especially when he got in her face. Now, he seemed… calmer than he had in months. He was wearing a tuxedo too, like Dudley, the kind he wore to those fancy company dinners at Smeltings.

“We can finally take that vacation to Monet’s garden in Giverny…” Uncle Vernon said to Aunt Petunia, who was climbing into the passenger seat.

“Oh Vernon, that sounds wonderful.” Petunia said, shooting a concerned look to Dudley, who had begun pounding on the car window. “We can discuss it more over dinner, we’re already late because of —”

They both looked at Dudley, whose face was now smashed up against the glass.

Aunt Petunia slammed the car door shut as Dudley began wailing again. Uncle Vernon gave another hearty laugh, like he’d heard an old joke, his keys clinking together as he locked the front door.

The Girl’s eyes widened in horror — no no NO — how was she to get inside now?

Uncle Vernon stepped past the car and into the street, looking down the road as if he were waiting for a cab. After a long moment, with a satisfied smile, he made his way toward the car.

“Good riddance,” he said to no one.

The Girl could feel her heartbeat in her throat as they drove away. It was then that she realized — really and truly realized — that she wasn’t going back to the Dursleys after this. They wouldn’t have her back anyway — she’d done it now. They’d constantly told her (pleaded, really) that if she ran away, she’d never be allowed back again, and that was without leaving her stranded places. Even if she hadn’t left on her own, ruining that window with water damage from the rain last night was enough to do her in.

That was okay, though, because The Girl hated the Dursleys, and they hated her.

She wiped at her face with her sleeve, sniffling softly to herself. Crying over the Dursleys wasn’t part of the plan, but then again, was she really crying over them? Something told her she wasn’t. The Girl was nothing remarkable, after all. The only remotely interesting thing about her was her lightning-shaped scar on her forehead.

The Girl threw her backpack out of the hedges, wincing as she straightened her legs for the first time all day. She rolled out from behind them, fighting back a sob building in her throat. She had nothing to go on now, nothing that would tell her who’d been wanting to talk to her so badly. They’d definitely destroyed this morning's batch of letters. They were the last remnants of her, proof she’d ever been there. They’d scrub that place clean until her existence was erased forever.

The Girl scrubbed at her eyes. Maybe the letters would keep coming? Should she stay behind the hedges? She wanted to scream, to hit something, or someone. How could her plan have gone so far south? How had the letters gotten inside without the postman? None of this made sense — none of it —

The Girl kicked at the front door, and it flew open.

There was no time to figure out how or why (she’d seen Uncle Vernon lock it, hadn’t she?). There was a pang in her chest that felt like triumph, like winning a game of football or outrunning Dudley. The Girl bolted through the door, straight into the front hallway, scouring the floor for letters letter letters —

There was a stack of them — maybe twenty or thirty — on the kitchen table. She couldn’t believe her luck! Her heart leapt up into her throat and she launched herself at them, her hands shaking terribly.

She was going to take one and run. She’d find whoever was sending these letters, she’d find them and they’d help her… even then, she’d stolen all of the money out of Dudley’s piggy bank, and he’d had enough in there to buy the entire family groceries for at least three months. He never checked it because Aunt Petunia usually just bought him whatever he demanded, but she could certainly use that… maybe get a ticket to London? But where would she go…

Before she could decide, she heard voices approaching from outside.

——

Privet Drive — or so the street sign said — was a waste of pavement and brick and foundation.

It was ticky-tacky, and Muggle, and there was nowhere for Severus to meld into the shadows. It was open and bright and far too organized for his taste. Spinner’s End wasn’t his haven either — he fucking hated living in his parent’s house, but this made him want to start setting homes on fire. He’d sooner become the flying instructor at Hogwarts then set foot in suburban Muggle territory after this.

This was where Lily’s daughter had grown up, he thought with a shudder. There was nothing Severus could do about that now. He’d tried ten years ago, but Dumbledore’s mind had been made up already, and the Blood Wards were (up until this point) impenetrable. He tried to imagine Lily settling down here, and felt his hands begin to shake. He thought of a small version of her running down the street he was standing on, and quickly shoved the thought away from him. What was wrong with —

He hated Muggle neighborhoods. He hated Petunia all the more for making him be here.

Severus scanned the rows of lawns and picket fences, trying to incinerate each door with his glare as he followed Dumbledore. He soon found himself face to face with a deep chestnut brown door with a brass knocker that had clearly been over polished.

“There’s no bloody car in the driveway.” said Severus, who was growing more and more agitated by the second.

“Forgive me, my dear boy, I’m not familiar with Muggle terminology.” Dumbledore did not take his eyes off the door as he unsheathed his wand. Under the circumstances, he was handling this remarkably well. Then again, Dumbledore had never shown panic, not even at the height of the war, when the Light had been losing, and badly.

Severus sighed as Dumbledore stepped onto the stoop. “A car is one of those metal death-traps with wheels that they use to transport themselves on the roads. A driveway is where they keep them in front of their homes.”

“Ah, I see, thank you.” he frowned, staring at the door with laser-beam precision. “Do Muggles often leave their doors open as well?”

He froze, a horrible sense of dread falling over him as he realized the door was slightly ajar. Dumbledore gave him another grim look and quickly let himself inside the house, his robes making a scratching sound as they grazed the doorframe. Severus was close behind him, wand drawn.

Severus took one step into the front hallway and immediately wrinkled his nose, artificial scents of air fresheners and a strong smell of tea filling his nostrils. Everything about this place screamed one word: Muggle. Severus had to force himself to blink several times as he took in the parlor.

White. Everything was so clean, so bright in a disturbing kind of way, and so white.

Lily would have hated it.

It was exactly the kind of place Severus had expected Petunia to end up in – or at least, it was where her happy ending was written down. If Severus could have dictated her fate, he would have put her right smack dab in the middle of some god-forsaken scrap of land in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by magic-practicing hermits.

It was unsettling. Severus recalled Petunia cleaning Lily’s house when they’d been children, her annoyance if something wasn’t where it should be or a mark on the furniture enough to sour her mood for days. Anything out of place — a speck of dirt on the carpet — would mean that something wasn’t right, and if something wasn’t right, it wasn’t normal, and if she valued anything, it was her normalcy. It was the one thing that Petunia could do right, in her mind. She could be the ordinary one, something her logic stated that her sister wasn’t capable of. Petunia would, in fact, be so conventional that she would land herself at the complete opposite end of the spectrum, even if the one Petunia had established inside her jealousy-riddled brain didn’t count or matter.

No — magic and Lily and her daughter did not belong here, Severus the least of all of them.

There were pictures of what looked like a piglet scattered about on the mantle, on side tables, hanging on the walls. Several of them contained Petunia, who looked exactly the same, and a man who strongly reminded Severus of the type of men that his father went to bars with, back when Lily had stopped speaking to him and Severus had wandered Cokeworth aimlessly.

There were no Muggle photographs of Lily or any other children. None that looked like her, or Potter.

It was quiet, and dark. The only sound was the hum of the refrigerator somewhere nearby. Dumbledore led the way, casting a wordless Lumos as they made their way through the house. The front hallway led straight into the kitchen, where the smell of tea grew even stronger. There was no sign of forced entry, beside the unlocked door, or a struggle. Severus grew more agitated the more he saw, wondering what in Merlin’s name could have possibly happened to cause Blood Wards to fall.

Upon entering the kitchen, Severus saw them.

Letters — littering the table and shredded in the rubbish bin. There were even some in the sink they’d put through the garbage disposal. Remnants in the fireplace. Severus recalled one year — their third — when Lily had been out with him, that Petunia had taken Lily’s back-to-school letter and shredded it to pieces, leaving it on her bed for her to find. Petunia had only smiled when Lily had asked her why, a horrible grin that had made Severus’ blood boil.

Severus recalled asking why Lily never told Petunia off. She’d laughed at him. She’s harmless Sev, she’s always done this —

“The owls would only keep sending them if…” Dumbledore trailed off, and a tense silence filled the air. Severus had the overwhelming urge to smash something — to make the stark whiteness of this awful Muggle house bleed with color. Petunia was behind all of this — the letters, and the Blood Wards falling. Severus didn’t have a doubt in his mind.

“I knew there would be resistance,” Dumbledore said softly. “But this…”

“I told you, Albus.” Severus said, his voice growing in volume with every word. “I fucking told you that Petunia would hate the girl! She all but disowned Lily for it, what makes you think she wouldn’t resent her own niece for something she’ll never have?”

“She was to provide a home for her. There’s no proof that she hates her here.” said Dumbledore somberly. “The Blood Wards were the best way I knew to protect her from Tom. There was no other way.”

“And how good are your precious Blood Wards now?” Severus sneered. “They’re gone, along with the girl and Petunia’s family. You told me at the— the funeral that Petunia hadn’t shed a single tear, and you think she’d what? Love the girl? After everything? She’s done something, I tell you. She’s done something to the girl, and now Merlin knows where she is!”

“Do you actually think that how long a person grieves is how much they loved someone?” Dumbledore’s eyes were searching him suddenly, with a scorching intensity. “It takes a moment to tell someone you love them, but a lifetime to prove it. I had hoped…”

Dumbledore hung his head, surveying the letters, their remnants, and the rest of the room. Severus had a sinking suspicion he hadn’t only been talking about Petunia.

“Petunia could not love Lily with or without her magic.” Severus stared through the glass door, which led to a patio and rose garden behind the house. “Your precious love was not enough to save Lily, and it was not enough to keep the girl safe, either.”

A loud noise caused them both to snap their necks in the direction of the hall.

Severus moved before Dumbledore did, his wand drawn and ready. Dumbeldore’s foolishness or not, he could not fail Lily before his duties had even started because of miserable fucking Petunia. He had to find the girl — had to find out wherever she had gone, to know whatever her aunt had to her done to make the Blood Wards fail so close to term starting.

“Come out,” he barked, a Binding spell on his lips. “We know you’re there.”

As he quickly moved towards the front door, he heard shuffling to his left. There was a door there he hadn’t noticed earlier.

Severus swung it open to find a small shape pressed up against some shelving that had fallen.

The first thing Severus noticed was that the girl was small for her age — she could’ve passed for two or even three years younger. Severus knew this because he’d known Lily when she was that young, and Lily hadn’t been this petitie when she’d started Hogwarts with Severus. The girl’s hair had been chopped off — she looked like a boy, if that haircut could have been assigned to a specific gender. It was horrendous, uneven on all sides and far too much in the back. Even in the dusty darkness of the cupboard, Severus could see that it was wine red, that deep, full color of fall leaves that Lily had. It was with a surge of loathing so strong that it churned his stomach that he realized Petunia must’ve done this for that very reason. The girl was a little Lily-clone, the pale skin and wine-hair and freckles over the bridge of her nose. The only thing that was missing were Lily’s green eyes. The girl’s eyes were dark —

The box with the memory thrashed around in his mind’s eye, pining for his attention. The little Lily-clone stared back at him, not afraid, but wary. Lily had never looked at him with fear, either. A rush of loathing surged through him, at this thing who was only here because of Potter, because even if she didn’t resemble him, he had done… this.

Then Severus saw the cot with the pillow and sheets, and the small, dirty lightbulb hanging in the center of the room, and the carvings on the walls beneath the stairs, the dead flowers shriveled up on the shelving and he realized — he realized that Petunia had —

“Albus.” he tried to say, but something else came out — the girl’s face stared up at him in shock.

Dumbledore appeared beside him, then. Severus couldn’t see his face because he couldn’t take his eyes off the carvings in the wall.

how many days one two three four five six

happy birthday i wish you were here

cold in here

tulips one two three four

days one two three four five six seven eight nine ten

day one two three four

rose petals one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve

letters seal cupboard under the stairs

He couldn’t see straight anymore, the words were a blur. The depths of Petunia’s hatred shouldn’t have surprised him one bit, but all he could think of was what Lily would say if she were standing where he stood. Her temper had been fearsome, but she’d never truly unleashed it on Petunia. She’d defended her sister and her awful, snide, hateful remarks, because she was her sister. Oh, how Severus wished he could throw that back in her face now, to show Lily what Tuney had done to her only child. Lily would have reduced her down to a scorch mark on the wall, and then set fire to the place.

Severus felt a hand grip his shoulder. He’d forgotten the old man was there.

The girl — the Lily-clone — appeared to be trying to make herself a scorch mark, or at least, one with the wall. Her eyes were narrowed, something familiar about them, something Severus tried to pin on Potter, but couldn’t.

one two buckle my shoe

roses last one two three four

merry christmas girl

girl

A R I E L

To be continued...
End Notes:
I'd love thoughts... stay safe everyone.

My tumblr is also lupinlaughed
Chapter 2: letters from someone by shostakobitch

Ariel suddenly missed the hedges by the front door. There were no strange people invading the rose bushes, pinning her against walls with their eyes and swearing at her.

Angry-Man reached a hand towards her, trying to corral her out of the cupboard, but Ariel refused to move. Had Uncle Vernon sent them? Were they… police? Maybe they had called someone after all… but policemen didn’t dress like these two men. Were they secret police? Dudley had telly programs about stuff like that. They were certainly dressed oddly enough. Oh god, oh god oh god oh god

The Angry-Man was tall, taller than Uncle Vernon, and dressed from head to toe in black. Even his hair was black, shoulder length, and hiding part of his face like a curtain. It looked like it hadn’t been washed recently. Behind all that hair was a large, hooked nose and two black eyes, darker than the night that she loved and hated, glaring down at her. He looked like he’d peeled himself out of a shadow. His chin could’ve cut glass

(He was at least fifty times scarier than Uncle Vernon, Ariel theorized)

“Professor Snape, why don’t we move into the kitchen. I think we might have given Miss Evans a fright, yes?” suggested the Old Man beside him. Ariel had nearly forgotten he was there. He had a long, silver beard, weird glasses, and wore a deep blue… was it a toga with a cape? Ariel couldn’t tell, Angry-Man was filling up the entire doorway. The Old Man looked much nicer, though. Somewhere, at the back of her mind, Ariel wished the Old Man had found her instead.

“Are you seeing any of this?” Angry-Man shrieked — dust fell from the ceiling and the lightbulb string swung wildly, like when Dudley stomped down the stairs in the morning. Ariel winced.

“I do, Severus.” said the Old Man, in a much sterner tone. “And now, I would very much like to speak to you privately.”

Ariel could tell he wasn’t asking, it was an order. Angry-Man shot her one last withering glare, his lip curled and hands balled at his sides, and stormed out of the cupboard’s doorway. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in, the letter crumpled in her hands.

When she looked back to the doorway, the Old Man was gone too.

She took a deep, shaky breath. No sounds came from the kitchen… had they left? No, the Old Man said they were going to have a “private conversation.” What did that mean? Was it about her? Should she run while they were talking? Were they here about the letters? She couldn’t hear them talking, still…

They looked like the people that stopped her on the street sometimes. Some shook her hand, some just beamed and waved. Aunt Petunia had always warned her about men like that, that men that were too friendly to her couldn’t be trusted. Ariel had never understood why, but she got the feeling that as much as Aunt Petunia hated her, this thought upset her greatly. She’d always seemed to make it sound like it was Ariel’s fault, though, simply because of the way Ariel looked. Aunt Petunia insisted she keep her hair short, for that reason. Because of strange men.

Strange men that were in the HOUSE.

Ariel was starting to see stars in her vision. She could hear her blood thumping in her ears, as loud as a rushing river. She slowly inched forward, afraid that they’d grab her, that they were just outside the door, waiting, but when she peeked her head out, there was no one there. Reaching inside her backpack, she fumbled for the picture of her mum and held it close.

Ariel stared upwards. She’d memorized the cracks that lined the small ceiling above her what felt like a million times. Ariel was quite sure she knew each and every one at that point, knew where each one led, where they began and stopped, and if they crossed paths with others. When she had been younger, Ariel had liked to imagine they were rivers, winding and twisting wherever the water brought them. But of course, the roar of Uncle Vernon’s voice was nothing like the rush of water, nor was Aunt Petunia’s high pitched screeches birds nesting in trees that may lay above them. Ariel was too old for such fantasies now, anyway, but sometimes, especially if she was feeling particularly lonely, she still imagined.

The letter had said she was accepted to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They expected an… owl with her response? Ariel hadn’t had time to sit and digest this before having to hide from a home invasion. The Dursleys sure had chosen one heck of a time to leave her here, alone, although, they didn’t know that, did they? They probably thought she was huddled under a park bench somewhere. Or dead.

“What do I do now?” Ariel whispered to herself. “I can’t just leave…”

She could though, couldn’t she? Ariel didn’t live here anymore. By now it was dark inside, the house absolutely silent — she felt like she’d been hiding in the cupboard for hours. Ariel stood there, willing the picture to say something — anything — because none of this was making much sense. She needed a sign.

Beneath her feet, the floor vibrated.

She turned her gaze towards the kitchen.

Angry-Man and the Old Man were talking — Ariel could definitely see that. Angry-Man — what had his name been? Snippy? — was waving his arms, his mouth moving a mile a minute, his teeth bared in a menacing sneer, like Aunt Marge’s dog. It looked like he was shouting, but Ariel couldn’t hear anything. At one point, he took one of the kitchen chairs and kicked it across the floor, where it collided with the back door. Ariel gawked as the glass shattered, but she still heard nothing. Was she dreaming? This had to be a dream. Either that, or she’d gone as mental as Uncle Vernon.

She eyed the front door nervously and bit her lip. Should she make a run for it? They hadn’t tried to harm her…

They both stopped when they noticed her watching. Old Man had a peculiar expression on his face, like he had just received bad news. Aunt Petunia had the same look when Dudley hurt himself, or when Uncle Vernon had a particularly unpleasant day at work. Her aunt had never looked at Ariel like that. Angry-Man just glared, his black eyes burning a hole in her forehead. She could see his hands shaking at his sides.

There was a rush of sound, like air blowing through a tunnel, and suddenly, Ariel was aware that she hadn’t been hearing anything — not even the sounds of night, which now filled her senses since the back door had been shattered open. It was like someone had taken cotton out of her ears. Crickets and the rush of cars driving, shrieks of children laughing as they played in the final hours of the day, the cool summer night rustling the leaves of the garden in the backyard. When Ariel looked back to the Old Man, he was holding a… stick?

“It’s alright, my dear.” said the Old Man. “Professor Snape and I were having a rather animated discussion and wanted to give you a moment to yourself.”

Ariel snuck a glance at Angry-Man — Snape. He was a professor? None of her teachers at school looked or acted like him. They definitely didn’t swear — and he’d said one of the really bad ones.

Snape looked her up and down, like he was just now seeing her. “Look at her. She’s filthy.”

“I’ve been sitting in the bushes out front all day.” Ariel said, trying to sound brave, but her voice came out very small. “I was waiting for the postman.” She gestured to the table. The remaining letters were all over the place now, littering the floor and chairs. Some were even starting to blow through the broken backyard door.

Snape flinched when she spoke, like she’d brandished a whip at him. The Old Man looked to him, a question on his face.

“The postman delivers Muggle mail.” Snape said flatly.

“Thank you, Severus.” the Old Man looked very troubled — almost concerned. “And you haven’t been allowed to open any of these letters, I gather?”

Ariel shook her head, regretting that she’d said anything, and now, she was talking to two very odd strangers in the middle of the Dursleys kitchen. This was not how she’d imagined today to go at all.

“My dear girl,” the Old Man said. “has your aunt told you anything about Hogwarts?”

“What do you think?” Snape hissed at him, like he’d said something incredibly stupid.

Ariel blinked up at them both. “My uncle wouldn’t let me read — who are you?”

Snape let out something that sounded like a snarl, which Ariel would’ve found funny if she hadn’t been so terribly confused (and maybe even a bit scared).

“She’s quite right, Severus, we’ve been rather rude, haven’t we?” the Old Man smiled down at her, his blue eyes twinkling. “I apologize Ariel, but we were alerted that you may have found yourself in a spot of trouble.”

Ariel stared back at him, confused. How did they know her name? “Someone called the police? If they saw me jump out of the window, I did that this morning. Was it the Dursleys? They just left —”

“You jumped out of a window?” Snape-Man sent a cracking look of hatred at the Old Man. His eyes darted around the room wildly, like he was looking for someone.

“Well, I had to.” she explained, putting her hands on her hips. “I’ve been getting these letters and the Dursleys wouldn’t let me open one of them, wouldn’t tell me who they were from —” A thought popped into her head, then. “Are you the ones sending them?”

“Where are you guardians tonight?” Snape asked in a deadly tone, like he already knew what the answer was, but her saying it outloud would make it real.

Ariel lowered her eyes to the floor — she’d streaked dirt all over the carpet from her shoes. Aunt Petunia was going to have a fit. “They went out to celebrate me being… gone. I hid outside all day, you know. I think they went to one of those fancy restaurants in town. I don’t know where, I’ve never been.”

Something was happening to Snape’s face, something dark that pulled at the lines in his face like a riptide. The air in the room started to shimmer, as if there was heat permeating off of pavement in the height of summer, or the stove when Aunt Petunia cooked on high. There came a clattering sound, and when Ariel finally forced herself to look away from Snape’s face, she —

The tea set on the kitchen table … the potted plants on the wall and shelves… the china… they were all floating. Ariel stared, and stared, and stared. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Had she passed out from the bee stings? Maybe she was allergic after all…

There was a loud CRACK, and suddenly, the two men were gone. Ariel stumbled back, gasping as she landed on her bottom. All of the decorations that had been levitating came crashing to the ground, a sound so loud that Ariel had to cover her ears.

She smacked her forehead, one, two, three times.

“Wake up,” she said. “You’ve really lost it. Wake up.”

Aunt Petunia was going to absolutely lose it when she saw the state of this place. Ariel almost wished she could stay and watch, but she was leaving, and she wasn’t ever coming back. She was leaving, right NOW, and she was —

CRASH

The sound came from upstairs. Ariel jumped back to her feet, clutching the letter and picture tight against her chest. What was —

Another POP cracked through the room, and the Old Man was back, without Snape, this time. Ariel yelped. “How —” her head spun. “How —”

“Apparition,” his blue eyes twinkled down at her in amusement. “In situations like these, I find it can be very useful.”

Ariel stared at him, gobsmacked. When she still said nothing, the Old Man chuckled. She wondered what about this situation was funny to him. She didn’t know if she wanted in on the joke.

“Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.” he held out a hand. “I apologize for the delay in introductions, but Professor Snape and I were worried something had happened to you, my dear girl.”

That name — as long as it was — sounded familiar. Ariel inched closer. “You’re… you’re the headmaster… in the letter.”

“Well, I would certainly hope so.” Dumbledore looked himself over, stretching over his arms, as if he was proving he was real. “I see you’ve finally managed to read your acceptance letter, then.”

“I read it while I was in the cupboard. But… but how did you do that?” Ariel asked as another BOOM echoed from upstairs. “You disappeared… where’s… the other guy? Professor —”

“Professor Snape needed a moment to collect his thoughts,” said Dumbledore. “I thought he would do it best upstairs.”

THUD THUD THUDTHUDTHUD

Ariel took another tentative step towards him. “Is he… okay?”

“Oh, he’ll be alright.” he smiled at her for the first time. At least, Ariel thought it was a smile. She couldn’t see anything behind his mustache and beard. “Won’t you take a seat, my dear? I’d love to hear about your adventure today.”

He sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, motioning for Ariel to take the one across from him.

BANG BANG BANG

Ariel gazed up at the ceiling. Dumbledore sat patiently, as though he didn’t hear the herd of elephants clamoring around upstairs. Not wanting to be rude, Ariel took the seat across from him. She didn’t take her eyes off the ceiling, though. The kitchen's lights were swinging around wildly. “You mentioned it before… Hogwarts. You work there?”

Dumbledore gave her a long, searching look. There was something sad in his blue eyes now that looked like regret. He opened his mouth, and then closed it before turning to the letter laying open on the kitchen table.

CRAAACK — BOOM

“What has your aunt told you about your past, Ariel?” he asked quietly, folding his hands in front of him. “About your parents? It would be wise to start there, I think.”

Ariel furrowed her eyebrows. What did this have to do with Hogwarts? “My mum and dad? She said they died in a drunk-driving accident. She hates when I ask about them. I found a trunk upstairs full of Mum’s stuff, but she had a fit when she saw. I really wanted to see what was in it.”

She remembered that day very clearly, for some reason. It stuck out her in mind, like a tulip in a field of dandelions.

Aunt Petunia had ordered Ariel to clean out the attic that day — it had been the hottest day of the year, the heat stifling, even outside. It was humid, and sticky, and not a cloud in the sky to cover the unrelenting sun. The grass had even started to burn outside. Aunt Petunia had been fretting about her precious roses, moving the sprinkler every now and then to make sure they were all getting enough water.

There had been no relief from the heat inside whatsoever, not even with the fans blowing at full force and all the windows wide open. Dudley had been standing in front of the fridge all afternoon, stuffing his head inside the freezer and raiding it for ice cream and ice pops. Ariel had been wiping sweat off her face with the raggedy old blanket she’d been given in her cupboard — which felt like the inside of a volcano — when Aunt Petunia had yanked the door open, handed her a broom and a dustpan, and ordered her upstairs. She’d nearly cried, climbing the stairs, because the second floor had been even hotter than the cupboard, which meant the attic was going to be a furnace.

Ariel had nearly collapsed when she’d yanked the door open, a wall of hot, stifling air hitting her smack in the face. There were no windows, no relief from the overwhelming heat that was going to cook her in a matter of minutes, if she stayed up here long. She’d gritted her teeth and set to work, convinced that even if she cleaned in record time, Aunt Petunia wouldn’t bother to trudge up here any time soon to check her work — forget Uncle Vernon and Dudley. They were about as useless as a sack of potatoes today, even if it meant making her life miserable.

She’d noticed the trunk because it was sitting in the very center of the room, all of the other junk pushed to the walls and sides of the room. At first glance, it almost seemed like it had been waiting for her, but that was impossible. Wiping her forehead, Ariel had knelt down to look at it when she’d spied the name scrawled across the top — Lily.

It wasn’t very tall, but it was wide, and covered in dust. As Ariel wiped it away, the dust sticking to her clammy hands, she saw that the wood underneath was a rustic grey, very different from the porcelain white furniture downstairs. There were brown buckles with golden knobs holding it closed, and a huge, metal clasp in the center.

Ariel’s heart had lifted so high that it felt like it was going to pull her straight through the roof overhead.

The heat forgotten, she’d hungrily bent down to open the latch when she saw the lock. Her heart fell back down to her stomach, but at her touch, it fell open with a click. She felt a sense of amazement at her luck… or maybe she was having a heart stroke? Either way, she didn’t waste any time. With shaking hands, her heart on fire, Ariel had opened the trunk and found one picture sitting on top… the picture of her mum she’d always kept with her from that day on.

Ariel had never seen a picture of her Mum before that day. Aunt Petunia claimed that she didn’t have any, that their mistakes were not to be on display in This House. She’d sat with that picture for a long time, staring at it, memorizing every line in her mum’s face, her smile, the waves in her hair — my hair we have the same hair — the freckles on her nose, the way it was scrunched as she laughed and the laughter lines…

That was when Aunt Petunia had appeared behind her, furious that Ariel had made her come upstairs, because apparently it had been two hours.

And then she’d spotted the trunk.

Aunt Petunia had shrieked, demanding to know where it had come from. Ariel quickly closed it with a thunk, putting the lock back in place before shoving the picture in her pocket. She’d grabbed Ariel by the hair, demanding she hand it over, demanding that she tell her what was inside that horrid chest your mother left, she didn’t want it up here, it was full of rubbish and nonsense and awful things —

No matter how hard Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had tried, they hadn’t been able to lift it off the ground to get rid of it. It wasn’t even that big — no bigger than the futon in the living room no one was allowed to sit on or use. They couldn’t even open it, like Ariel had. They’d tried to make her do it herself, but she wouldn’t. Uncle Vernon had shouted until he went blue in the face and nearly passed out from the heat, but as they slammed the door to the attic shut, leaving Ariel in there, she’d realized that this trunk — this picture — might’ve been the only thing she’d ever truly had to care about.

That trunk was more precious than a thousand meals, a thousand days locked in the cupboard, a thousand punches from Dudley. It had sat up there, untouched, and Ariel had resigned herself to the fact that she’d probably have to wait a long time before another opportunity presented itself. Aunt Petunia kept the attic locked, after that.

Ariel found herself telling Dumbledore this story. She couldn’t read his expression, but he looked far away, like he’d gone somewhere and forgotten to take himself. Maybe he had. Maybe he’d used magic.

“I see.” Was all he said, bowing his head. “I take it you haven’t been back since?”

Ariel shook her head. “I haven’t had a chance to try and pick the lock.”

Dumbledore’s mustache twitched. “And who, might I ask, taught you that?”

She shrugged. “No one. It’s not really lock picking… things just seem to do that around here for me… unlock, I mean. It happened with the trunk, with the cupboard. I don’t really go upstairs, so I haven’t had a chance to try the attic door again. Aunt Petunia makes a point to know where I am, most days.”

All traces of amusement left Dumbledore’s face as Ariel spoke. He gave her another serious, searching look, like he was trying to read her mind. “Did you happen to see anything else in your mother’s trunk? Anything that caught your eye?”

He seemed awful interested in it, Ariel thought, almost as interested as her. “No, sir. I just took the picture. I wish I had, then maybe I might’ve known about…” she smoothed the Hogwarts letter out on the table, placing it between them. “I think there’s been some sort of mistake, sir. I don’t know anything about a Hogwarts school…”

A place like Hogwarts didn’t sound real — seem possible. Magic didn't seem possible either, but the letter in front of her said something different entirely. So did all the… stuff that had been happening since Dumbledore and Snape (another series of deafening crashes shook the ceiling) arrived.

“I can assure you, there’s been no mistake.” Dumbledore said. “You, my girl, are a witch.”

——

Severus could feel his rage in his teeth, itching all the way down to his molars. Everything was red, bleeding into the too-white-ness of Petunia’s miserable fucking house. He was furious, mostly with Petunia, but almost equally with Dumbledore. He’d begged the old codger not to send her here, to Lily’s magic-hating sister, but the Blood Wards, the BLOOD WARDS —

What good was it now, that the Blood Wards had fallen? The girl had clearly been planning on running away. She’d had a backpack secured on her, bursting with clothes — there had been a shirt sleeve hanging out the side. If this wasn’t her home, there was no protection. What if they hadn’t gotten here in time? What if —

They went out to celebrate me being gone

He remembered Petunia baking a cake in the Evans’ kitchen, remembered Lily asking what the occasion was and Petunia flashing a vicious smile, “The fact that you’re leaving with that horrible boy.”

Severus shot another Stunner at the bed — the lamp went flying, knocking over an entire row of pictures on the dresser.

(There was none of the girl, not even one of Lily, just like the downstairs)

Dumbledore had left him locked in here to talk with the brat before Severus had realized what was happening. He wondered what good that would do, how long he’d be confined to Petunia’s bedroom while Dumbledore told her everything. There was no doubt in Severus’ mind that the girl knew nothing. Petunia would never have shared a shred of information if she could help it. It was bitter and petty and ugly, just like her. If Petunia couldn’t have magic, she’d sure as hell make sure Lily’s daughter wouldn’t either.

The girl. Covered head to toe in dirt, twigs sticking out of her hair, the horrendous haircut and dark eyes. He was certain that Petunia couldn’t stand the sight of the girl either, of the little Not-Lily child, missing her mother’s green eyes. Her clothes didn’t fit, and she’d been wearing two different shoes. Severus couldn’t even tell if she had Lily’s freckles, her face was so dirty. She certainly didn’t look like an Ariel Evans, darling of the wizarding world.

Severus had remembered being vaguely bewildered when he’d read that Lily had chosen to give her child her maiden name. He’d known she’d kept it, from the marriage announcement in the Prophet, and had felt something akin to heartless joy, mostly aimed at Potter. It had clearly been a middle finger to the Dark Lord, the very sort of thing Lily had been known for at Hogwarts. Avery would mutter “Mudblood” under his breath, and Lily wouldn’t hesitate to send a Stinging Hex his way. She’d pin him down with her stare and curse him under her breath until Prince Potter and the rest of his cronies would appear to rescue her. The difference was that Severus knew Lily could handle herself, and Potter did not. Lily wouldn’t have taken a Pureblood name for protection, even if she loved —

He’d thought not giving the child that protection was idiotic, even if it was only in name and social-class. When the Dark Lord had declared that Potter and Lily’s baby was the child destined to die, he’d sneered and laughed at the common, Muggle name she held, thought it stupid and childish, like her mother. He’d thought it would be so easy, thought it ridiculous that a Mudblood’s child could possibly hold any sort of power formidable enough to destroy him.

How wrong he had been, Severus thought miserably.

And that cupboard —

He shredded the comforter on the bed, feathers flying everywhere. The thing with the Lily-hair and Lily-face downstairs, even if it was half Potter, didn’t deserve to be treated like a caged animal. The carvings in those walls… the backwards E’s and S’s. It was a new low beneath him, and he made children cry regularly. Even if he’d hated the little monster instantly, hated that she existed, hated that he was so angry with Petunia and Lily because of it, because people were all too trusting in each other, he would never do that to a child.

He was going to have to look at that Lily-face with dark eyes and remember the cupboard for the next seven years. He was going to have to look at that blasted scar on her forehead.

a scar does not form on the dead, a scar means they survived

Severus pointed his wand at the bed once more — he was going to make Petunia very sorry.

——

Ariel had blocked out all of the loud noises coming from upstairs when Dumbledore reached the part about her parents being murdered by an evil wizard. This sounded like something in a fairytale book, or a movie. She tried to imagine her Aunt Petunia knowing all of this, keeping it from her, and her head nearly exploded.

This hunger inside of her to know them — James and Lily, Dad and Mum — had been steadily growing. She’d tried to picture who they were while Dumbledore spoke, what they sounded like, their personalities and what parts of her were them, what she could say they shared so she could cherish them and know that she had not always been alone.

“They must have been really brave.” Ariel said, looking down at her feet. She wished she was a bit taller so they’d reach the floor, she needed to feel more grounded right now. “To do all that, when Volevant —”

“Voldemort.” Dumbledore corrected her gently. “And yes, they were immensely brave. Love is mostly ill advised, but always brave.”

Ariel nodded, not really understanding what he’d meant, but that was okay, for now. There was a lot she still didn’t understand. Why had Voldemort wanted to kill them? Why hadn’t Ariel died? Did Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon really know all of this, had they been lying all this time about the drunk-driving accident, or is that what they were told? They must’ve known she had magic…

Petunia could not love Lily with or without her magic — that’s what Snape had said while Ariel had still been hiding in the cupboard, before she’d stumbled backwards and knocked over the shelving. Is that why Aunt Petunia despised her? Because she’d known Ariel had magic like her mum?

“I still have more questions.” she said to Dumbledore, who, to her surprise, had started to stand up.

“I’m sure you do,” he folded his hands in front of him. “Fortunately, we have all the time in the world to discuss them. For now, I’d be forever grateful if you could show me that trunk your mother left you. Of all the things I left for Petunia to someday give to you, a trunk was not one of them.”

Ariel nodded. Her head felt like it weighed a ton all of a sudden. Maybe it was too full from all the information she’d just been given. Dumbledore looked tired too, like he’d aged while talking about Voldemort and her mum and dad.

She sipped the last of the tea Dumbeldore had made for them — quite literally. He’d waved his hands at the broken china and it had fixed itself, like a bunch of magnets snapping together at once. Ariel had felt a twinge of disappointment, because that was Aunt Petunia’s precious china, and Ariel was a little satisfied to see it broken in pieces. She’d polished that china for hours throughout the years. When it landed on the table, there was steam coming from the teapot, and their cups were filled to the brim with hot tea. There had even been cream and sugar in hers, just the way she liked it.

As Ariel climbed the stairs behind Dumbledore to the second floor, the banging and crashing stopped abruptly. Ariel shot Dumbledore a nervous glance — he didn’t seem worried at all about Professor Snape, or the fact that he’d been tearing apart the house for nearly twenty minutes. Not that Ariel cared… Aunt Petunia probably wasn’t going to survive this, though. She was going to drop dead of a heart attack when she saw the state of the place.

Dumbledore glided to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon’s bedroom door, knocked twice (Ariel saw his lips, behind all that hair, curled upwards) and called, “Severus?”

Uneasy silence, and then —

“Were you hurt,” said a muffled, scary voice. “in the mental leap it must have TAKEN YOU TO THINK—”

“Severus.” said Dumbledore. “I have Ariel with me.”

There was another long, pregnant pause before Snape spoke again, this time, much quieter, but equally as terrifying. “Well?” he bit out. “The brat can’t stay. She’s broken the wards by leaving and Petunia gladly accepting the fact that she’s been gone. Do you plan on keeping me locked in here until the Ministry figures it out, or have you decided to finally do something about it?”

Ariel bristled at his comment. Sure, her aunt and uncle had called her that all the time, but Snape’s label seemed a bit unwarranted. She hadn’t been rude, had she? This didn’t seem to phase Dumbledore at all. He took out his stick — wand? — and muttered something Ariel couldn’t make out. He pushed open the door to her aunt and uncle’s room, sticking his head in.

“What a lovely job you’ve done redecorating, my boy.” Dumbledore said mildly. “I’m sure Ariel’s aunt will find it quite abstract.”

Ariel peeked around Dumbledore’s tall frame to see what he was talking about. Her jaw just about hit the ground. It looked like an atomic bomb had gone off in there. Feathers and shards of glass, wood, stuff she couldn’t even identify covered the floor. The dresser had been split in two, and the bedrame was somehow gone. As Ariel craned her neck, she caught sight of their bathroom — a small lake was forming, the shower rod and curtain lying in a muddled heap. The toilet was inside of the bathtub.

Snape was suddenly there, in the hallway with them, and Ariel ducked back behind Dumbledore. She certainly didn’t want to stand in his way after seeing that, even if she was impressed with his work.

“It’s nothing less than she deserves.” Snape sent him a look so awful that it could have peeled the paint off the walls. “Are you done here, then? The longer we stay with no protection, the more vulnerable the girl is.”

“In a moment,” Dumbledore said — he’d found the attic door at the very end of the hallway. “Miss Evans and I have some business to attend to.”

“What could you possibly —”

“Why don’t you see if anything in Petunia’s kitchen needs attending to?” suggested Dumbledore, who, despite sounding cheerful, had a sinister air glowing about him. Ariel could almost see it, in the way the hall lights flickered and the shadows grew, though only for a split second.

Snape gave a horrible, twisted sort of grimace, his cloak whipping with an audible crack as he pivoted around and down the stairs. Ariel couldn’t if he’d gone because he was still furious for being locked in Aunt Petunia’s room, or because he’d felt Dumbeldore too. Maybe it was both.

Ariel wrung her hands, suddenly feeling very bad for him, even if he was mean and absolutely terrifying. “Are you sure he’s alright? He doesn’t seem to want to be here, much.”

“Professor Snape very rarely does what is asked of him if he does not wish to do so,” said Dumbledore. “Alohomora.”

The attic door slowly creaked upon, and they both stepped inside. The trunk — her mum’s trunk — was exactly where Ariel had last seen it. She felt as if she was greeting an old friend as she knelt down to wipe off the new layer of dust that had formed over her mother’s name again. Her heart went THUMPTHUMPTHUMP — the lock fell off with a snap, and Ariel was starting into that wonderful, amazing trunk once more. There were pictures (there are more PICTURES, a little voice hollered inside her head) and pieces of parchment, rolled up with little bows and a… test tube? Something was inside it, but just as she was about to pick it up, something else caught her eye.

It was (another) letter. Not as fancy as the one from Hogwarts, but it had her name on it — Ariel — in wobbly, cursive writing. Whoever had written clearly hadn’t had a steady hand, she thought to herself.

it’s a letter a letter to ME from MUM to ME

“Ariel?” Dumbledore called from behind her. “Is this it?”

She quickly shoved the letter in her pocket. “Yes, sir, it’s unlocked —”

“That’s alright, thank you, my dear.” he placed a hand on her shoulder as she stood up. “I’ll be sure to return this to you once you’re settled.”

Settled? Settled where? You couldn’t settle if you were on the run, could you? Or maybe he meant in September, when she’d start Hogwarts. But that was over a month from now, Ariel thought, suddenly crestfallen. She couldn’t wait a month.

“Can’t I at least take some of the pictures?” Ariel asked in a small voice, not wanting to upset him. “I only have the one…” She reached into her jacket to show him, to prove that she had this precious thing that she only wanted more of. If there were jewels and money in the trunk, she didn’t care, all she wanted were pictures.

Dumbledore took the photo, but his gaze did not leave Ariel. There was a great sadness there that caused a lump to form in her own throat, and she didn’t know why. It was like the photo had reminded him of something tragic. He nodded, and disappeared back into the hallway, and down the stairs. Ariel couldn’t read his expression, but right now, she didn’t care.

Ariel dove into the trunk — there were jumpers, notebooks, the vile from before with something sparkling inside, moving around like it was alive. None of that concerned her though, all she wanted was a picture of Mum and Dad, just one more —

She’d grabbed as many as she could shove into her backpack without ruining them. Now wasn’t the time to look, but she could see glimpses as she sorted through. There were no more letters (thank God, she thought, a little relieved) but she could see photo albums and books, all with the same handwriting on them. Ariel prayed Dumbledore had meant what he said, and that he’d return the trunk to her once he’d gone through it. Why did he want it anyway? Could it have to do with — what had his name been? Voldysnort?

It didn’t matter. Ariel had her pictures, and that made her the richest girl in the entire world.

The door to the kitchen was closed when she went back downstairs to join Dumbledore. That was probably for the best. Snape was there too, looking sullen and angry and bored all at once. He did not look at Ariel. There was an unspoken conversation happening between Snape and Dumbledore with their eyes.

“Severus, you will take her, if you don’t mind.” Dumbledore finally said, and it was an order that sounded a whole lot like a suggestion, but underneath the pleasantness in his voice, there was something brewing, that cold, icy fury Ariel had caught in his blue eyes when he’d seen her in the cupboard. “I think I’ll wait here for Ariel’s aunt and uncle to return.”

“No,” Snape sounded like he was chewing on nails. “I will deal with Petunia, you owe me that much, Albus.”

“I cannot have you doing anything that I won’t be able to defend in front of the Ministry.” Dumbledore sighed. “Your anger is not misplaced, but as I am trusting you with Miss Evans, I would hope that you would trust me to deal with this adequately.”

“She deserves —”

“There is a difference between what is deserved, and what is right, Severus.”

Snape said nothing, but he looked like he wanted to argue with him. He gave one last disgusted glance at the cupboard — Ariel didn’t blame him, she hadn’t exactly tidied it up before she’d been sent to Dudley’s second bedroom — and fixed his bottomless, black eyes on her.

“Come along.” he said in a hard voice. Ariel didn’t know why, but it made her shiver.

“Where are we going?” she asked, immediately regretting it. The sharp look he gave her made her stomach drop to her feet.

“Hogwarts.” It was clear by his tone that would be the last thing he’d be saying on the matter.

Snape was out the door before Ariel could even blink. She looked to Dumbledore, and gave him a small smile. “Thank you, sir.”

His face still looked friendly, but she could see pain in his eyes, like a body behind a curtain. “Whatever for, my dear girl?”

“For the Hogwarts letter… and the pictures.” She fought the urge to hug him. She’d never hugged anyone before, anyway.

Dumbledore placed an old, withered hand on her shoulder, and squeezed. “It was my pleasure, Ariel, and well within your birthright.” He gazed up the stairs, like someone was waiting for him. “I shall see you at Hogwarts later, after I’ve had some time to discuss what has happened with your aunt and uncle.”

Ariel nodded, and he began climbing the stairs, robes trailing behind him. She wondered if she really would see him again. Something told her she wouldn’t, or at least, not until school started. The thought made her anxious. She went to follow Snape, and immediately stopped on the front stoop. Her feet had stopped working, unable to make her go forward into this new reality. He was standing there, in front of the house, just off the lawn. He reminded her of a vampire, like if he set foot on the property without being invited, he’d burn alive or drop dead or something.

“What is it?” Snape asked sharply from the street. “Have you forgotten something?”

“No… I just…” Ariel swallowed, trying to organize her thoughts, which were spinning out of control the harder she tried to collect them. “I don’t know… I don’t have that much money, and I don’t have anywhere to go —”

“I just told you, we’re going to Hogwarts.” Snape said, tapping his foot impatiently. “Money is of no consequence.”

“But… but I can’t stay there now! Hogwarts isn’t until September, and I don’t have money to pay for school or books or anything, I don’t have anywhere to go before then and if I try and use the money for a motel I won’t have money for food, and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia think I’ve run away! They’ve always said if that happened they’d change the locks — ” Ariel was vaguely aware she was rambling, but she suddenly felt as if instead of Dumbledore helping, he was throwing a wrench into her plan. She’d always been on her own, and she could do this if they let her, she knew she could.

She’d stumbled off the stoop, desperate to make him see. He’d called her a brat, he had to know that she wasn’t worth this much trouble, even if she had supposedly defeated some evil old wizard. She had her pictures, she wanted to be alone, alone with her mum and her dad in a place no one could take them from her ever again.

Snape was staring at her differently, now. He looked almost cautious, like Ariel might charge him, or she was about to throw a tantrum. In the dim glow of the streetlight, she could barely make him out, barely separate him from the inky darkness.

He crossed the lawn in three strides and before Ariel could high tail it back inside, he was there.

Snape bent down so that he was eye level with her. His eyes glittered at her like two black beetles.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” he said in a cold voice, like winter. It was neither condescending or assuring, but somewhere in the middle, like he was telling her it was fine, and it didn’t matter if she didn’t think so. He did, and if she tried to say anything against that, he’d make her sorry.

When Snape held out his arm, Ariel did not hesitate to take it.

To be continued...
End Notes:
Next chapter will contain a large time-jump, so I hope to have that up this time next week.

Reviews are always welcome (and go a long way).

Stay safe, everyone x
Chapter 3: unfathered by shostakobitch

31 October, 1991

It had been ninety-four days since Ariel had left the Dursleys.

Ariel had been keeping track. She’d left two days before her birthday, and now, it was Halloween. Ninety-four days sounded like a long time in her head, but in reality, it had flown by. The timeline was a game of ping-pong in her memory, from staying in the infirmary with Madam Pomfrey, going to Diagon Alley with Hagrid on her birthday to get her school things, and then being taken to the Weasleys for the rest of the summer. Ariel had been terrified (exhilarated) when she’d first walked into the Burrow, where Molly Weasley had greeted her like they’d known each other their whole life. Ron had shown her around, but Fred and George had been the first one to laugh at her jokes. Well, at least, they’d thought it was a joke. They’d been prying about what happened to cause her to end up with them, and Ariel had mentioned that Dumbledore and Snape had taken her to Hogwarts, which the twins had found absolutely hysterical. Apparently, Snape was, in Fred and George’s words, a huge dick. Ariel didn’t really know what that meant, but she supposed she agreed.

The Weasleys had taken care of her like she was one of their own. She’d cried that first night, because she hadn’t done a single thing in her life to deserve this, but by some stroke of luck, she was never going to see the Dursleys again.

Which was why she felt silly not wanting to go to the Halloween Feast.

Ariel thought whacking her head underneath her bed after finding a mysterious jumper down there was the only sign she needed not to go tonight, but she still felt weird about it. She rubbed the back of her head, trying not to alert Hermione as the pain subsided. She bit her tongue as she stood up. Luckily, Hermione had disappeared into the bathroom, which left Ariel alone in the girl’s dorm for a minute or two. Hermione was getting ready to go to the Feast, but what she didn’t know was that Ariel wouldn’t be joining her tonight.

She looked over at the collage of pictures behind her bed frame, mounted to the wall with a Sticking Charm. Lavender had helped Ariel put them up the first week of school, insisting that she keep them out (your Dad is a DREAM, Ariel Evans). They were the pictures from her mum’s trunk, the ones that weren’t safely tucked away in the photo albums. Some of them were Muggle, and some magic. Ariel loved them all, but she would’ve been lying if she’d said that the magic ones weren’t her favorite, especially the one of her parents' wedding. She could’ve watched her mum and dad’s sparkling faces as they twirled around each other until the end of time. They’d decorated them with fairy lights Lavender had brought from home, connecting the pictures together like a roadmap. When Ariel had trouble falling asleep, she’d sit up and stare at them.

Ariel stopped reminiscing when she heard Hermione come out of the bathroom. “Is this your jumper?” she asked, holding it up for Hermione to see. “It was under my bed.”

Hermione squinted from across the room, tugging on the brush that had gotten caught in her hair (again). “Yes, you borrowed it when we went to the lake last weekend, remember?”

She did. Ariel would never forget that day, because it was the day she realized she had a friend. She’d never had a friend before, and she’d been nervous that she was going to push Hermione away, somehow, that she’d see straight through her and her lightning bolt scar and think she was a freak. The Dursleys had always looked at Ariel with disgust, fear, apprehension, and indifference, but everyone at Hogwarts looked at her with a sense of starstruck caution. Ariel didn’t know which was worse, but Hermione had never looked at her like that. That day by the lake, though, had been the most fun Ariel had ever had — and that was saying something, because she didn’t think Hagrid taking her to Diagon Alley, or the sense of amazement and breathtaking wonderment she’d felt when she’d first looked up at Hogwarts, when Snape had brought her here, could ever possibly be topped. Meeting Hermione on the Hogwarts Express was almost as amazing as living in a magic castle.

Magic castles that had three-headed dogs, they’d learned. Maybe that was why Hermione had decided to be her friend. Stuff like that was bound to bring people together. Besides, it wasn’t every day you saw stuff like that (or almost died, either).

Ariel sat down at the edge of her bed, shutting her mum’s trunk with a dull thud. She let her hand rest on it for a moment, thankful that Dumbledore had stuck to his word and returned it to her. Everything was there, all the picture albums and jumpers and notebooks Mum had used when she’d attended Hogwarts. The only thing that had been missing was the vile filled with the shiny stuff Ariel couldn’t make sense of. She supposed that was okay, for now, and she hadn’t had a chance to ask Dumbledore because, unlike his promise about the trunk, he hadn’t kept his promise about seeing her again. Ariel supposed that was alright — Dumbledore was a busy man, after all, and she wasn’t nearly as important as running a whole entire school.

She was flipping through her Potions textbook idly when Hermione finally came out of the bathroom, looking frustrated. There was no doubt it was her hair again. She pretended like she didn’t care about it, but Ariel knew it bothered her. Her own hair wasn’t much better. It was longer than it had been when she left the Dursleys, but not by much — it came just passed her chin now. Malfoy had taken to calling her Red Cap, which Ariel hadn’t really cared much about until she’d seen a picture of one.

“Are you ready?” Hermione asked, smoothing her hair with her hands in an attempt to flatten it. It didn’t matter what she did, it was always about twice the size of Ariel’s own. She tied it back with a rubber band (she’d broken countless), wincing at the pull.

“I’m not going.” Ariel answered automatically. She tried to ignore the uncomfortable pit growing in her stomach as she picked up her potions textbook. Ariel liked Potions very much — she was rather good at them, actually, a whole lot better than flying — and it was the only textbook that really interested her. Well, she shouldn’t say that, Ariel loved every aspect of magic, it was just that for the first time ever, a class came fairly easily to her. Hermione had read through all the textbooks at least two times already, but Ariel still had higher marks than her in Snape’s class.

Thinking of Snape made Ariel feel like her brain was in a vice.

When he’d brought her to Hogwarts back in July, he’d simply left her with Madam Pomfrey, and then, Ariel hadn’t seen him again until term started, which had annoyed her quite a bit. Hagrid said he’d probably gone home for the rest of the holiday, which annoyed her for a reason she couldn’t help but think was ridiculous. When Ariel searched for him at the Welcoming Feast she had instantly regretted it. Snape had nearly taken off her upper half with the force of his glare, which was more than enough to make her avoid his gaze until his first Potions class, where he’d given her another one of those awful, hateful glares and moved on, never once acknowledging her existence in his class, or anywhere else, really. Ariel had sat through the first several Potions classes waiting for Snape to tell everyone about the Dursleys and the cupboard and all the really stupid things she’d said on their front stoop, but he never did. He attacked everyone else (especially Neville) but her.

Snape was a weird bloke, Ariel had deduced, and she was okay with never speaking to him again if he was.

Back in the present, Hermione swiped the textbook off the bed, demanding Ariel’s attention.“What? What do you mean? We have to go!”

“Professor McGonagall said it was optional.” Professor McGonagall had also given her a pitying look when she’d asked, but hadn’t pushed for the reason. They’d both known what it was. Ariel reached for the book again, but Hermione held it up higher and away from her hands.

“Ariel, it’s your first Halloween here… it’s a tradition.” She frowned when Ariel only huffed in annoyance, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Ariel hesitated. She didn’t know if she wanted to tell her. It wasn’t like Hermione didn’t know — everyone knew — but feelings were different then a fact, and Hermione relied very heavily on those.

Hermione’s face fell, when she didn’t answer. “Do you not want to go with me?”

“What? NO!” Ariel said, a little too loudly, causing her friend to jump in surprise. “Hermione, that’s not it at all! I just… I don’t feel like it, is all. I really want to go with you!”

Her face smoothed over, like she believed Ariel, who gave a sigh of relief. “Then what is it?” Hermione dropped the book on the bed, and plopped down beside her with a huff. “You can tell me anything, you know.”

Ariel swallowed painfully, fighting against the lump forming in her throat. She wanted to be a good friend, and friends told each other things, didn’t they? She didn’t want to keep Hermione from the Feast, but maybe if she explained why she couldn’t make herself go, at least for this year, maybe Hermione wouldn’t be upset.

“It’s Halloween.” Ariel said pointedly, hoping Hermione would know what that meant. She knew everything.

To Ariel’s disappointment, Hermione’s brown eyes only blinked at her in confusion.

She took a deep breath, and in a very quiet voice, said: “Tonight's the night that my parents died.”

Ariel could see when something went click in Hermione’s head. It made her stomach lurch forward as a cold breeze slid against her spine. “I wanted to spend tonight alone.” Ariel continued as Hermione’s eyes softened in comprehension, “Kind of in honor of them, I guess. It doesn’t feel right going to the Feast. I didn’t know when they died, or how they died for a really long time. I just wanted to be alone with them tonight since I’ve missed it before.”

Hermione squeezed her hand. “You were going to do it alone? You shouldn’t have to be all by yourself.”

“Well, where else can I go that’s quiet?” Ariel paused. “Don’t say the library.”

“How about the Astronomy Tower?” Hermione’s eyes searched hers — don’t push me away. Ariel found herself doing that, inadvertently sometimes.

She stared at Hermione, trying to fight the stringing behind her eyes. “You don’t have to —”

“We could… I have some candles! We could light them… make something out of it, maybe? The sky is nice enough tonight too.” Hermione said, giving her a smile. “What do you think?”

Ariel's eyes were shining with unspoken gratitude and a sadness that she had always known, but had never shared. “But the Feast —”

“It’s not worth going to if you’re not there.” Hermione said, very matter-of-factly.

She pressed her palm into hers — Hermione’s hands were still damp from the sink. “What about Ron? He’ll be there all alone…”

“He’ll be fine.” she waved at thought like it was an annoying bug as she stood. “He’s got Seamus and all the food he could possibly eat.”

Ariel grimaced, but didn’t argue. She felt bad, leaving Ron out, but sometimes she wondered if he was only her friend because she’d shown up on his doorstep. He’d been acting odd since Ariel had met Hermione, and she didn’t know why. They were always bickering, and it made Ariel feel bad, because while Ron wasn’t exactly the nicest to Hermione sometimes, his family had taken her in. It wasn’t the same, though. Hermione had been the first person she’d told about the Dursley’s.

When Hermione finally reappeared, she was holding a wicker basket filled with already half-used candles. She looked incredibly disappointed, like she’d been told that Christmas had been canceled.

“I thought I’d brought them up here with me.” She sighed, sifting through them, as if there would be brand new ones at the bottom. “The Prefects must have the good ones, but they’re in their quarters… and I don’t think finding out would be such a good idea.”

“They’ll do just fine.” Ariel grabbed her arm. “Let’s go, before the Feast lets out. You said the Astronomy Tower, right?”

Hermione nodded. “There’s an alcove on the stairs up that has a great view of the grounds. There’s enough room to sit and stuff.”

“Perfect.”

.

Severus found himself more irritable than usual this Halloween, and he suspected it probably had to do with the fact that Dumbledore was being more meddlesome than usual.

Hagrid was late, spitting out apologies left and right as he stumbled to his seat, nearly knocking over half the food in the process. Severus stifled the urge to slam his head against the table until he did enough brain damage to leave. He hated this fucking holiday, and he hated that he was being forced to be here.

It was because of Hagrid that Severus found himself seated in-between Dumbledore and Minerva, which was a place he actively avoided. Minerva on her own was manageable, but the two of them together made Severus want to stick a fork through his eyeball. They’d made him take the open seat between them (which he suspected they’d done on person) in order to leave the last seat at the end of the High Table for Hagrid, who had single handedly ruined (or, at the very least, made it a thousand times more abhorrent) his night.

They were discussing Hermione Granger, who was Severus’ almost least favorite subject since term had started.

“The girl can’t be satiated.” Minerva was telling Dumbledore. “I give her twelve inches for an essay, and she hands in forty-eight. Most of them are questions. I haven’t seen this much enthusiasm since… I don’t even know, Albus. She’s unparalleled.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled in delight — he loved discussing the unmarked potential of the cretins. “High marks, then?”

“The highest in the class.” Minerva said, like he should have known that already. “Granted, it’s only been a few weeks, but sweet Salazar, if she keeps this up, her future has no bounds. A brilliant child indeed! She might be the finest witch this school has ever seen, and in Gryffindor, no less.”

This was a direct comment for Severus to respond to. He decided to send them both a disgusted, sideways glare instead. Granger was slowly becoming the bane of his educational existence. It was true, what Minerva had said — she overcompensated, but for what, Severus had yet to gauge. Severus wished she only handed in forty-eight inches — the least he’d gotten was sixty. He’d started taking marks off for every extra five inches the girl tacked on.

“She’s obnoxious, and a know-it-all.” Severus said, trying to murder his baked potato, which he had yet to touch. “I find her enthusiasm annoying, at best. She calls out when she’s not called upon. She’s constantly lecturing those around her, especially Weasley.”

Minerva frowned, seemingly offended that Severus wasn’t giving Granger a glowing recommendation. “Weasley could stand to listen to her. The boy doesn’t apply himself… you could say the same for the twins. Brilliant, the pair of them, but it’s like pulling teeth trying to get an essay out of them.”

“It’s not just Weasley.” Severus grouched, his head throbbing as he recalled her voice in his class prattling on and on and on. “It’s Evans too.”

He realized the trap he’d fallen into as the words left his mouth. Dumbledore smiled, raising his goblet to his lips, a look of satisfaction on his face. It made Severus’ blood boil. He dropped his fork and shot daggers at him, silently trying to force him not to go through with what he was undoubtedly about to ask.

“And what do you think of Miss Evans, Severus?” he asked, his blue eyes alight with genuine, sparkling curiosity.

What did he think of Miss Evans indeed. Well, for one, the girl no longer looked feral. Pomfrey and the Weasleys had done a fine job of seeing to that. Lily-thing was quiet, soft-spoken, and didn’t ask questions, but he wasn’t going to tell Dumbledore that, even if it was wholly uninteresting in theory. When the girl had walked into the Great Hall for the Sorting, he’d caught her searching, dark eyes landing on him, recognition lighting them up. For a terrifying second, Severus had thought the girl was going to wave, and so, he’d struck her down with a look so fierce that he’d seen those around her cower. She’d done the same, which was very un-Potter like. No, he’d rather keel over and die right there than let the old codger know he had any sort of opinion about the brat. Severus didn’t give a shit about the girl anymore, he was here to make sure she didn’t jump out of anymore sodding windows.

In closing, Miss Evans has gone from being the girl in the cupboard to the girl under the Sorting Hat, and now she was a passing face in a sea of dunderheaded children. Severus honestly knew very little, because he kept it this way, thanks to his avoidance of Dumbledore. He knew the girl was friends with Granger and the newest Weasley twerp, and that Draco Malfoy enjoyed getting a rise out of her. That hadn’t been surprising at all — Severus knew why, and it most likely had nothing to do with the fundamentally different personalities… well, not yet, at any rate. Draco was the center of his parents’ universe, and his own, for that matter. This was the first time his orbit was being overshadowed by another. Lily-thing was the newest celebrity, and seemingly well-liked. Draco was neither of those things.

Severus scoured the Great Hall, stopping at the Gryffindor table when he noticed Weasley was poking at his plate, sulking — alone.

Lily-thing and Granger were missing.

That had never happened before. They were always there — Snape knew this because he’d been watching the little monster. Dumbledore was convinced someone was after the Philosopher's Stone, and having the Girl-Who-Lived waltzing around the bloody school was sure to create problems. Dumbledore wouldn’t admit it, but Severus was almost positive that he thought the two were somehow related. He’d broken his silent treatment to Dumbledore to discuss the Stone and where it was to be held because of it. He’d been so angry after leaving the girl with Pomfrey that he’d gone to Spinner’s End and disconnected the Floo network until the week before school started. Severus knew that if Dumbledore wanted to, he could have Apparated there, or sent an Owl or a Patronus, but he suspected that the old man had been equally as rattled by Lily-thing’s Muggle upbringing.

He did not want to remember Lily on this night. Memories warmed you up from the inside, but they also tore you apart.

Severus’ eyes narrowed as he turned to Dumbledore. “I think Miss Evans is absent from the Feast.”

There was the faintest indication of a frown on Dumbledore’s face, now. Severus felt vindicated. “I’m sure they’re making their way here shortly.”

“Or she’s gotten into trouble.” Severus offered, deliberately unhelpfully. “Not unlike her father.”

Dumbledore gave him a strange glance, one that only moved the eyebrows on his face. It reminded Severus of when the tide pulled back and left behind nothing but seashells.

“On the contrary, I find her to be a very thoughtful child.” Minerva intervened. “James wasn’t nearly as deliberate at Ariel’s age.”

Severus stifled the urge to roll his eyes. The girl had jumped out of a window to get her acceptance letter, for Merlin’s sake. If that wasn’t the epitome of James fucking Potter, gift to the wizarding world, then Severus was a Hufflepuff.

“Besides,” Minerva sniffed, sending Severus A Look, as if she were discipling him. “I spoke with Miss Evans earlier today. She asked if her attendance was mandatory… she expressed wanting to spend her time elsewhere, tonight.”

“And you told her yes.” Severus gave her a doubtful scowl. He didn’t know why this bothered him — he tried to tell himself that it didn’t. If Lily-thing didn’t want to participate in school activities, why should he care?

He didn’t.

Dumbledore seemed intrigued by this new information. “Did she say why, Minerva?”

Her lips pursed together in a tight line. “I would suspect it would have to do with another event many of us celebrated several years ago.”

Severus nearly dropped his fork. Dumbledore bowed his head in acknowledgment, while Minerva took a long, drawn out sip of the Elvish wine in her goblet. Thankfully, it was then that the doors to the Great Hall swung open. The students all fell silent, obviously startled, as Quirrell came bounding into their midst. He ran as though someone had set his robes on fire.

“TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!” Quirrell shrieked. “Thought you ought to know.”

And then the idiot fainted. It was times like these where Severus considered not having the Defense position a personal insult. He turned to Dumbledore, who, despite being the oldest person in the room, certainly looked the most powerful. He boomed out a command to the Prefects, who scurried to collect their Houses and escort them back to their dorms for the evening. Hagrid barrelled up again, looking a bit disappointed as he stared longingly at the full plate of food in front of him.

“Minerva, you will help me secure the Stone.” Dumbledore said sharply, drawing his wand. “Severus, I’d like for you to assist Pomona and Filius and then meet us. Make the students’ safety your top priority. I doubt a troll would pose any sort of threat to the Stone, but we must be vigilant.”

He didn’t need to tell Severus twice — a troll entering the school wasn’t exactly unheard of, but the timing was… suspicious.

There was a girl missing, in the meantime.

.

Ariel and Hermione made a beeline for the Astronomy Tower staircase, which was very long, and very high up. She didn’t mind the walk, though, the late-fall air felt good on her clammy skin. She was nervous, because tonight, with Hermione here, she was going to do it.

She was going to read that letter.

There was a whole slew of reasons why she hadn’t done it yet, but most of them were stupid, silly, and sounded like Aunt Petunia when Ariel said them out loud. She’d wanted to rip open the letter the second she’d landed at Hogwarts, after Madam Pomfrey had made her drink potions that tasted like old socks and toenails, but something had stopped her, the same thing that had stopped her from following Snape off the Dursley’s front stoop. Sure, tonight Ariel genuinely did want to spend it remembering her Mum and Dad — she thought they deserved some sort of commemoration since they had, in fact, died this very night. It changed the whole holiday for Ariel, really. She didn’t see how after learning about everything, she could simply pretend that Halloween wasn’t a marker for something else.

When they hit the third twist in the stairs, Hermione stopped, gesturing to a small alcove just a few paces to their right. “Is this okay?”

Ariel gave a small smile. “It’s great, Hermione. Do you think the candles will be okay with the wind and all?”

“Well, we’ll find out.” Hermione said, setting down the basket. “There’s been a neat Charm I’ve been wanting to try anyway — it keeps them from going out. Professor Flitwick taught it to me the other day when I stayed after class to ask a question about… oh, I don’t even know what it was about —”

She started to ramble about schoolwork as they both set up, lining the ledge with mostly-used-candles as Ariel offered quiet “mhm’s,” and “yeah you’re right’s.” She felt bad pretending to listen, but she was wondering how she was going to start a conversation about her dead mother’s secret letter when the current topic was about Transfiguration. It was getting chillier, too. Ariel shivered as she settled against the ledge, wishing she’d brought that jumper with her (whether it was hers or not). Part of her wish she had brought Ron, because unlike Hermione, he could be blunt when he needed to be. He would’ve started bickering with Hermione once she started talking about school, and the awkward silence after would’ve given Ariel the perfect opportunity to bring it up. Sometimes, Ariel didn’t know what to do with Hermione’s sincerity, her innate attention to detail, and it made her feel small.

The candles flickered, the wicks dimming as the conversation did the same. Ariel let her gaze drift from Hermione and to the grounds far below them, grinning as she watched Hagrid barrelling up towards the school, obviously late for the Feast. She tried to imagine her parents walking those same grounds, maybe out by the lake, or where she and Hermione were sitting right now.

“I think it looks nice.” said Hermione, who’s Charm had worked on the candles. She gave a satisfied little smile. “Do you like it?”

Ariel nodded, not knowing how to say that the candles didn’t matter so much as Hermione being here did. “It’s brilliant, Mione. Thank you. You really didn’t have to —”

“I wanted to be here.” Hermione inched a couple of paces closer to her. “I think it’s… I think they’d be proud. Touched.”

She didn’t want to think about what her parents could have felt. It was strange to miss someone, but projecting about how they would’ve felt about something was almost more painful than the missing itself. Ariel wanted them here more than anything, some days. For a long time, she’d thought that the thing she wanted most was to leave the Dursleys. She’d daydreamed about her parents coming to get her… and while Professor Dumbledore and Snape definitely weren’t what she’d had in mind in this fantasy, she was still incredibly grateful that someone had come.

She supposed she owed that to her parents too, in a way.

“No one talks about them.” said Ariel, bringing her knees to her chin. “About Mum and Dad. It’s like… like how no one says Voldemort’s name. Ron’s mum knew them, but when I asked her she got this funny look on her face, like… like she was trying to to cry. I didn’t even think they were that close. Even Dumbledore, when he came to my aunt and uncle’s… he seemed so sad when he told me what happened.”

Hermione stared at the stone floor, like she was debating on whether or not to share her thoughts. “My grandparents died when I was really little, so I don’t remember them at all. I asked my mum about them, for a school project we were doing, and she got all upset. My dad said it’s because they knew them, and it’s… difficult to talk through the pain of their memory. It’s different for me and you, because we didn’t know them the same way others did. It’s awful that you didn’t, but you don’t miss them the same way.”

The wind howled, interrupting Ariel’s next thought. The treetops in the distance shook and trembled, like an audience watching their conversation, eager to know where it was headed.

“I have to tell you something.” she said to Hermione, trying to put on her best Gryffindor-face, and failing. She was shaking like the trees. “My Mum left me a letter.”

Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed. “What kind of letter?”

“I don’t know. I found it in her trunk when Professor Dumbledore and Snape came to my aunt and uncle’s. The trunk in our dorm is my mum’s, and before Professor Dumbledore took it, I found a letter inside.”

“Did Professor Dumbledore —”

“He doesn’t know I took it.” Ariel felt awfully bad about this, but it was, after all, her letter.

Hermione frowned. “What if it had something to do with You-Know-Who?”

“It has my name on it, so Mum wanted me to read it.” Ariel bit her lip. “I just… I haven’t built up the nerve to do it. I don’t know why, I feel so silly.”

She did know why. She was petrified that if she opened this letter, it was going to be something she didn’t want to know. After everything that had happened, she had no real reason to feel that way. Somehow, she was scared that this letter would make her feel worse, and she’d just started to finally sort through all the Parents-Murdered-By-Evil-Wizard business.

“Do you want me to read it with you?” Hermione asked softly. “If it’ll make you feel better… I wouldn’t mind at all.”

Ariel hesitated. “I… don’t know. I think so.”

“We don’t have to do this tonight —”

“No,” she interrupted. “I have to, or else, I’m never gonna have the nerve to do it again.”

Before Hermione could argue, Ariel reached into her robes, unfolding the letter. She’d been very careful to keep good care of it, and had been keeping it under her mattress all these months. She even checked on it every night before she went to bed to make sure it was still there. Hermione scooted closer, tracing Ariel’s name with her fingertips.

“She had nice handwriting.”

Ariel felt hot and cold all over as she unfolded the letter with trembling hands, Hermione’s chin coming to rest on her shoulder. It was dated 4 December, 1980.

.

My Ariel,

I must have rewritten this letter a thousand times for you by now, because you deserve for it to be perfect. I’m afraid it won’t ever be, and I’m starting to think there is no perfect way to tell you the truth. I hope that you won’t need this letter, and I can tell you myself, or maybe what I’m about to say has always been your life, for as long as you can remember. I hope you can forgive me for not giving you that, if you’re reading this without me there.

James and I are in hiding, waiting to hear from the Order. I hope you know what that means, and why it was so important to us. If I’m not here, with you, then I can only begin to imagine why, but I know that it must have something to do with Voldemort. He wants you, my sweet girl, and I will not let him take you, no matter what the cost. If you’re here, and I am not, then I’ve done what I need to do to protect you. Please know that there is no life living if you’re gone and I’m not. I’m sorry I’m not there. I’m sorry.

What I have to tell you is not out of regret. I’m worried that if I’m not there, that you don’t know at all, and the only thing worse than not being there is you having to read this letter and find out the truth all by yourself. You are not alone, Ariel. You are so loved, even if you don’t necessarily feel that way after hearing this. I hope you can forgive me for not being there, and if you don’t already know, for the lie you’ve believed until now.

James is not your biological father. Your father’s name is Severus, and it’s for his own protection that I’m keeping this a secret. James is the only other person that knows, and now, my sweet girl, you do too. Severus doesn’t even know. I don’t know if he’ll ever know, which is why I’m telling you, because you deserve that much from me. You have a right to know where you came from, and so does Severus, if all is well.

James and I dated our last two years at Hogwarts, and when we left, I decided that I wanted to give all my energy into the Order, to the fight against Voldemort. He had proposed, and I couldn’t find it in me to say yes. Not then, at least. I hope you're old enough to understand such things, but I do love James, very much so, but in my eyes, I had my whole life ahead of me for marriage. At the time, it was not clear whether or not there would be a life to live if Voldemort won. So I told James no, and that when we did marry, it would be in a world that was free of this darkness. It’s everywhere, Ariel, and growing by the day. I hope you live in a world free of him, without fear of his name, and what he is capable of. Hope has been hard to find, these days. The Order is losing, badly, and without James and I to help, I don’t know what’s going to happen.

James and I went our separate ways for a time, only seeing each other during Order meetings. Severus had chosen a different path. We were friends in school — my dearest and best friend. We had a falling out our fifth year, and I never spoke to him again, because he wanted to join the Death Eaters, and he did. I wasn’t sure, for a long time, if he’d truly gone and done so, but I saw him during my first battle with the Order. He saved my life. That was when I met Severus, again. I ran into him at Hogsmeade one night, and I asked — no, demanded — that he tell me why, because it had been eating away at me ever since. And he did.

When James found out I was pregnant, he insisted that I marry him then, if only to protect me and you from a world that hates Muggleborn witches. He is a good man, a good father to you. He’s holding you right now, feeding you a bottle in the kitchen. He loves you like you’re his own.

Severus remembers nothing, and that is by his own volition. He asked me to Obliviate him, and I only did it because he threatened to do so himself. There was no relationship that could be built, even after a night of talking, of learning things I didn’t know, and wish I had. I know Severus would never harm me, or even you, for that matter, even if he does not remember the last time we met. I pray he is still alive, because even though I’ve lost him twice now, you should still be afforded the privilege to know him. Dumbledore told me he’s joined the Order as a spy. I don’t know when, but it’s impossible for Severus to know anything about you. The only ones who know are James and I, and I’ve made him swear an Unbreakable Vow to never tell a soul.

I don’t regret you, or seeing Severus, for that matter, for a single second. Please know that. Keep it close to you, always. You are my greatest gift, my high point, and you are so loved.

Have some fire. Be unstoppable. Be a force of nature. Be better, and don’t give a damn what anyone thinks. I love you endlessly, and forever. Never forget that.

Mum

.

The letter seemed too short — too final. Ariel wanted more. She wanted to rip open the letter and climb inside her mother’s words, to ask a million more questions and learn a million more things. There were words crossed out, the handwriting wobbly and smudged in places. She tried to understand what that meant, but she couldn’t right now. It was like a person trying to touch a ghost and getting nothing but air.

Severus. That was Snape’s first name. That’s what Dumbledore had called him in Aunt Petunia’s house. This couldn’t have been the same Severus her mum had been talking about, the one who was her real father. Snape had sworn at her, called her a brat, and then destroyed half of Aunt Petunia’s house with magic. Snape ignored her and looked at her like he wanted her to drop dead on the spot. Snape hated her. Snape hated everyone.

He knew Petunia, though, said a small, annoyingly helpful voice, he talked about her as if he’d known her.

Ariel was going to be sick. She did not like this (she did, she love that horrible stupid amazing wonderful letter) and she did not like the fact that now, she was the only one who knew. Once you knew a thing, you could never unknow it.

Except Snape had. Snape had made himself forget, or her mum had, because he wanted to.

She had forgotten Hermione was there until she started shaking her.

“Ariel?” There were fresh tears in her eyes. “Ariel, say something!”

She didn’t know what to say. There was nothing she could say that would be right, nothing that could convey what was going through her head. The voice whispering in the midst of the hurricane inside her mind raged, told her to do something, to yell scream cry beg laugh —

“Did you know?” Hermione croaked.

“What?” Ariel found herself forcing out. “No! Of course not! If I had known, I would’ve —”

She didn’t know what she would’ve done. Snape hated her, or at the very least, strongly disliked her. He hated everyone, except maybe Professor Dumbledore, but even that was debatable. She would’ve asked to have her memory wiped, like Snape had. She would never have read this letter. She would have kept it in the trunk for the Headmaster to read. But if he had read it… would he have told Snape —

No no no no no

“This has to be some kind of joke.” Hermione grabbed the letter out of her hands, smoothing her fingers over it, like it was ancient text she was preparing to decode. “This can’t be right…”

Ariel couldn’t feel her lips anymore. There were stars in her vision, stars that sparkled like her mother’s eyes, sparkled like the laugh in her face and cheeks, sparkles like the fairy lights in her parents’ wedding picture, sparkles on the Christmas tree where she, the baby, had sat. She’d searched those pictures and stared at her father, wondering what she’d inherited. Not the face, the hair, the freckles, the smile that was higher on her right than her left. It was all coming together inside her head, a sonic boom so great that when it hit, even though she knew it was coming, she was not prepared.

The eyes — her eyes — the first eyes she’d seen into this magic world —

She did not hear Hermione calling her name when she started to run.

To be continued...
End Notes:
Author's Note: Well, I warned you there'd be a time jump!

In my head, I've considered these first three chapters as sort of an introduction to the story, like a prelude. For the rest of the story, which will end at the conclusion of first year, the goal is to finally start telling it.

Reviews are very much appreciated. Thank you for all the kind words last chapter. x
Chapter 4: trolling by shostakobitch

The school had gone eerily silent, and not the kind of quiet Severus relished during the summer months. This was something different, something that put him further on edge as he glided through the corridors, searching for anything amiss. There wasn’t (surprise, surprise) and Severus felt himself growing more and more agitated. Quirrell was about as useless as a wet tissue, he decided on, tucking that thought away for later when Dumbledore tried to bring up the Defense position. He didn’t know what it was, but Severus often thought about Hexing that ridiculous turban straight off of Quirrell’s head. It felt like bitterness, but Severus knew what that really felt like, and this was not it.

It was the quiet that settled before an attack, he decided on. He remembered this feeling during the war, when he’d been walking through Diagon Alley. The crowd thinned suddenly, like sand running through an hourglass. It had gone silent, and then, before he’d known it, the Order was descending on him and Yaxley. Luckily, they’d had a Portkey, but it had been a close call, and Severus couldn’t help but wonder if it had been Potter who’d given them the tip. Potter and his cronies hadn’t known that Severus had been a Death Eater, no, but Lily and Potter had certainly had their suspicions. She’d make that abundantly clear during their final years at Hogwarts.

Perhaps that was why Lily’s daughter was such an enigma. She was in Severus’ opinion anyway, and that was the only one that mattered to him. He couldn’t find that ferocity Lily had, or the defiance Potter radiated in their child. Not that he was looking for either, but it was like the girl tried to shrink herself whenever she entered his classroom, only looking towards his desk to glance at the board with wide, nervous eyes. She looked just like Lily, a little carbon-copy of her as a child, which was incredibly unnerving, but Severus couldn’t tell what she was yet, but she did have seven years of schooling left. He hated her for existing, but he couldn’t say that he hated her personally just yet. It differed from Severus’ hatred of her father — that sort of loathing was a tie that was binding.

Tonight’s little stunt was the first of many. He was sure of it, even if it had somewhat good intentions.

It was Peeves who scared the living daylights out of Severus while he reminisced. Minerva bringing up Godric’s Hollow was enough to sour his mood for the remainder of the evening (and week). With the added stress of a troll in the dungeons and the sudden disappearance of the Girl-Who-Lived, he was a ticking time bomb when Peeves finally set him off. He knocked a full suit of armor into him, which he just managed to dodge as Peeves floated up to the ceiling like a balloon, cackling wildly.

“Jesus fucking —” Severus shot a unnamed Curse that Dumbledore would have read him the riot act for at him. “I’m going to have you exorcised, do you know that? There’s a petition in Dumbledore’s office.”

Peeves laughed maniacally, flashing Severus a grin that was far too wide. “Silly Snape, snapping Snapely along. No troll hunting for Snape tonight!”

“Did you let it in?” Severus snarled.

“Who?” Peeves feigned shock, placing an offended hand over his mouth. “Me? Never in my life!”

“You’re dead,” his eyes flickered to the corridor behind Peeves. “in case you forgot, and if you did let a troll into this school, the Headmaster will banish you himself.”

Peeves sombered at this, but that jeering light in his eyes didn’t dim, not even a little. “I would never, honorable professor never-done-anything-wrong snippy Snape sir!”

“Piss off, then.” Severus threw behind him, itching to shoot another Hex at the phantom.

“Snape stalking students! Snape stalking students!”

“Students?” Severus’ eyes narrowed as he whirled back around. “Which students? They’re all supposed to be —”

“Ol’ Voldy Moldys little friend, the carrot-top! Pretty little carrot-top firsty!”

Lily-thing. He was going to make her regret ever skipping a meal when he got his hands on her. Just as he was about to demand that Peeves tell him where they were, the insufferable poltergeist let out another howl of laughter, plunging himself through the wall. Severus swore, kicking the helmet of the knight Peeves had nearly killed him with. He scoured the corridor for any sign of an intruder, for anything suspicious, when he heard his (new) least favorite voice yelling.

“Ariel!” Granger was shouting, a desperation in it that tugged Severus in their direction. “Ariel, WAIT!”

Of course it was Lily-thing and the Know-It-All — he’d nearly forgotten that Granger was with her. Severus was annoyed it was he who had found them, because on tonight of all nights, he did not want to deal with Lily’s daughter, but he supposed that this was far better than the troll finding them instead.

“HEY — WAIT!”

Severus frowned. Something was wrong — was Evans running from Granger? He’d never seen them so much as frown at one another in class. That was usually reserved for Weasley.

(he’d told himself that the girl missing didn’t bother him, but he was nowhere near the dungeons)

He could hear footsteps slamming against stone — two pairs — and breathless gasping. He drew his wand, tensing as he briskly glided towards the noise, Granger’s panicked pleading echoing down the darkened corridor. Not to mention that the little idiots were going to get themselves stepped on if they found that mountain troll before the staff did.

“Ariel — ARIEL!”

Someone came flying out of the darkness, and smashed right into him.

It knocked the breath out of him for a minute as he fell backwards, something toppling into him. He could feel a knee digging into his ribcage as he quickly recovered, recognizing that blasted wine-red hair as her head lifted to meet his gaze. Lily-thing gaped up at him in — horror? It was something bone-chilling, and it might have startled Severus if he hadn’t immediately been overcome with rage.

Lily-thing scrambled off of him as Severus reached to grab the little monster, intent on possibly catapulting her out of the nearest window. She skittered back, like a cockroach when exposed to light. Her expression stopped him from saying a word. She stared at him, her chest heaving, with a look of pure fear, like she was seeing him for the first time. He stared back, trying to make sense of her expression, of the panicked, caged look twisting her face, trying to label it as her reaction to mowing him down, but he couldn’t. There was something unreachable there, something he’d never seen on Lily, and didn’t think he wanted to see on her daughter’s face ever again.

Before Severus could register what was happening, Lily-thing scrambled to her feet, and took off without a single word. It was then that Severus saw Granger fly by, her bushy hair a tangled mess.

“Sorry, Professor!” Granger squeaked out. “We’re sorry!”

Severus sat there, bewildered, as their footsteps faded away. He was rattled by that haunted look, of the quiet desperation. He wondered if that’s how Lily had faced the Dark Lord, before he’d murdered her. It caused him to shudder as he pulled himself fully upright, wincing as his side ached in protest. Lily-thing was small, but she’d come at him like a Quaffle in play.

He wanted to chase after the little shits and wring their necks, but unfortunately, he had more important matters to attend to. It didn’t matter, anyway. They were heading in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, which meant a Prefect would intercept them at some point, if another professor didn’t. All Severus really cared about was managing not to break his promise within the first few months of Lily-thing being here. He was going to find them later, and he was going to make them very, very sorry they’d not attended the Feast. They certainly could run, but they couldn’t hide. Granger was the kind of student who would rather rip out her own fingernails then skip a class.

A candle rolled out of the shadows, resting against his foot.

Severus stared at it for a long moment and waited for the fiery rage burning behind his ribs to subside before kicking it away. He rose, letting his Shields do the same as he looked off in the direction the candle had come from. Smoke trailed from behind it, where Evans and Granger had come running like a pack of frightened hippogriffs. From the stairs, Severus could see a soft light flickering, casting unnatural shadows along the walls.

He followed it until he found where they’d been doing during the Feast.

There was a circle of them, the candles, lining the alcove about halfway up to the Astronomy Tower staircase. Half of them were knocked over, like they'd been kicked or thrown about. In the very center was a picture. Severus refused to look at it — he’d seen a glimpse when first looking down, but he couldn’t bear to see the whole thing. It was too much to admit, because even though he’d known it had happened, he couldn’t ever acknowledge the happy, smiling family waving up at him.

It was the sort of sentimental shit Lily would have done. That was the first time he’d thought that, in relation to her foolish daughter. They shared the same bleeding heart.

The space where his heart would have been suddenly felt very heavy, like there was a rock lodged in there. Wind whispered around his cloak, scratching it against the stones as the treeline rustled in the distance.

Severus pointed his wand at the picture. “Incendio.”

-----

“Did — we — lose — him?” Ariel wheezed, clutching at her stomach.

Hermione nodded, taking a big gulp of air, like she’d been drowning and had only now reached the surface. “I — think — so.”

Ariel couldn’t get enough air, couldn’t get enough of the burning sensation as it rushed down her throat. It was the only feeling that mattered right now. Breathing was the first thing she’d felt since she’d open that stupid, amazing letter. She couldn’t get enough of it, couldn’t force enough air inside of her. She felt like she needed to be fumigated.

It had felt good to run. The only sensible thing. Nothing about what her mum had said made much sense, so she’d decided to get as far away from it as humanly possible for the time being.

The next thing Ariel had remembered was her nose smashing into something boney.

She had heard a deep grunt, and for a second, the overwhelming darkness felt nice, like she was finally hiding somewhere where she could be alone, just like her cupboard. She’d never thought she’d miss that miserable, dusty place, but in her mind, it was the first thing that had made sense since that letter. The cupboard was familiar, where the idea of her parents was left untouched, untainted.

And then, Ariel had looked up.

Her heart beat had tripled, as fast as a race horse. Snape’s black eyes had narrowed as they’d locked on to hers. She couldn’t look away from those eyes, those eyes that were so disturbingly familiar, because she looked at the world through those eyes every single day.

NO NO NO NO NO —

So Ariel had taken off, not daring to look over her shoulder. She didn’t care if Snape gave her a thousand detentions, she’d just needed to run, needed to concentrate on the stitch in her side and the burning in her lungs.

“Shouldn’t he have been at the Feast?” Ariel asked as she leaned into the sink. They’d ended up in the girl’s bathroom on the first floor, a place where, in her mind, she’d thought, “Snape can’t follow us in here.” Now, that seemed like a pretty ridiculous plan, because Snape was a teacher, and he could do whatever the heck he wanted.

“I don’t know…” Hermione grimaced. “When you crashed into him —”

Oh god, she’d done that. Ariel had come around that corner, and Snape had been right there and he’d given her this look… like she was about to shatter into a million pieces. Maybe she had been, she couldn’t really remember much after that. Her brain had been screaming. Ariel could only imagine what her face must have looked like. She’d never been good at hiding her emotions.

“— I didn’t hear him come after us.” Hermione finished. “You don’t think he’s hurt, do you?”

“He seemed alright, just… mad.” Ariel collapsed on the floor. “I don’t blame him.”

“You’re right though, he should’ve been at the Feast.” she wrung her hands together. “You don’t… you don’t think he could’ve… known, do you?”

Ariel shot her a panicked look. “No! Mum said she Obliviated him, that he asked her to! How could he?”

“But why would he want that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because he’s Snape?”

“Yes but…” Hermione bit her lip. “It doesn’t make much sense. I mean, she told you the truth, but there’s still a lot of stuff she didn’t say.”

She could hear the end of that sentence hanging over them, like a sword. Hermione was a factual person, Ariel had come to realize, and didn’t understand emotions, didn’t understand the way they twisted and made people lash out. She suspected that it was part of the reason Hermione and Ron had so many rows — Ron talked before he thought, and all Hermione did was think.

Mum hadn’t said anything else, because she expected… Snape to tell her the rest. That was what Hermione hadn’t said, and what they were both thinking.

Ariel darted towards a stall, slamming the door shut behind her. For a minute, she thought she was going to be sick, but it passed as quickly as it had come, like a summer squall… like the one the night she’d left the Dursleys. Her heart hammered inside her chest, begging to be let out.

“Hermione,” she whispered. “he’s my dad.”

The daydream of Ariel’s parents coming to rescue her was becoming distorted. This was not what she had imagined. She’d imagined loving embraces and tears… to find out they were dead was at least final, because at least you could imagine and believe in someone you missed but had never known. In reality… that daydream had come true, but instead of her mum and dad’s smiling, happy faces, it had been Snape sneering down at her, cursing while he nearly foamed at the mouth.

And that… fit her daydream, because Snape was her dad. It wasn’t what she had envisioned, but it had happened. He’d taken her away from the Dursleys to Hogwarts, but then he’d left her here, alone, without even saying goodbye or coming to see her again. That hadn’t been part of the fantasy. Maybe Ariel was being too greedy… but did it have to be Snape?

Hermione didn’t say anything for a long moment. The words hung there, in the air, like cobwebs. It was making things harder to focus, the less talking they did. The stall door creaked open behind her and Hermione’s warm hand grabbed hers.

“What are you going to do?” asked Hermione.

That was a loaded question.

“He’s awful, Hermione!” Ariel said, twisting her hands in her hair. “He’s mean and angry all the time, he hates Gryffindor and he hates me.”

“Hagrid said he doesn’t have any reason to hate you, remember?”

“He saved me from the Dursleys and now he doesn’t even look at me!”

“That doesn’t mean he hates you!” Hermione knelt down on her knees in front of her. “You mum said he’d never do anything to hurt you. That means he couldn’t… not really, anyway.”

A wonderful thought bloomed, then. Ariel had a father that wasn’t dead. It didn’t feel real, because trying to connect dad to Snape was like trying to call a crocodile cute, but she wasn’t an orphan anymore. She was… something else.

Hermione pulled her into a hug, which nearly knocked Ariel into the toilet, but she didn’t care.

“It doesn’t matter what your mum said.” Hermione said fiercely. “It doesn’t change who you are.”

Ariel wanted to believe that, and she did, in a way. She was still Ariel Evans, still too short for her age and bad at arithmetic. Nothing had changed since she’d read her dead mother’s confession, but something had, in the air, in the frequency she usually operated on. It was building in her chest, like a crescendo, something great and horrible, like her mum’s letter. The smudges and wobbly lines were all making sense, the fear in her words that Ariel would somehow hate her (how could she, she would’ve done anything to have her here, anything at all).

She knew that fear, because now, she was absolutely terrified that Snape would somehow find out. She was scared that he really did hate her, and that thought was horrible, because he was her dad, and he didn’t know.

But she did.

And only her.

And that feeling dropped to the floor like an anchor, because she’d forgotten to take the letter with her, and Snape had —

“The letter!” Ariel frantically pawed at her robes. “I left it there!”

“No, you didn’t.” Hermione reached into her robes, pulling it out. “It almost flew away, but I managed to snag it. Good thing too, if Professor Snape was lurking around.”

She swallowed loudly. She still wanted to throw up. Instead, she hugged Hermione again tightly, thanking any god listening that she’d had enough sense to take it, because if Snape had gone up there and found it…

Ariel didn’t even want to think about it. She remembered him smashing Aunt Petunia’s china to the floor and shuddered.

Before she could tell Hermione that she was the greatest witch to have ever lived, a deafening CRASH boomed through the room. Ariel nearly jumped out of her shoes as Hermione let out a shriek a soprano would’ve been impressed with. She braced herself for Snape to come barrelling in, determined to meet him and take her punishment for running him over, but instead, something even worse happened. She pushed past Hermione and out of the stall, where she found herself looking up at… a Huge-Ugly Thing with an equally sized wooden club.

Ariel tried to say Hermione’s name, but she couldn’t.

They both screamed.

The Huge-Ugly Thing hollered right back, swinging it’s club wildly. Hermione tugged on Ariel’s arm, pulling her into one of the stalls. She slammed the door shut, a fresh layer of panic on her face.

“What is it?” Ariel whispered, like The Thing didn’t know where they were.

“It’s a troll.” Hermione hissed back, her eyes welling up with fresh tears. “It’s not supposed to be in the school!”

“Well yeah, I would hope so, Hermione!”

The troll roared again, smashing it’s club against the mirrors. Ariel and Hermione held their hands over their ears as they shattered in succession. Their hands went to their mouths once it had quieted to try and stifle their breathing.

A meek creeeak came from the door.

“Who’s in here?” a voice called, a mixture of scared and frustrated. Ariel recognized that voice.

“Ron?” Hermione shrieked.

There was a long, stunned pause.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?” Ron shouted. “THE LOO WAS MEANT FOR THE TROLL —”

The troll roared and advanced, barrelling towards the bathroom door towards Ron, who had undoubtedly startled it. Ariel jerked open the stall, blindly grasping for Hermione’s hand. She pulled her forward with such force that it was a wonder she didn’t pop her arm out of it’s socket.

“RUN!” Ariel yelled as the door to the bathroom went flying off its hinges, slamming against the wall adjacent to where Ariel could see now Ron was standing.

The troll’s mean little eyes stared at them, hesitating in the bathroom doorway. Ariel looked around wildly before her eyes landed on something, staring at it until Hermione followed her gaze. There was a metal pipe laying beside the shattered door. She shot forward, grabbing the pipe and flew back to Hermione’s side.

“Now what?” Ariel asked, chest heaving.

Nothing but the stench of troll and labored breathing filled the tense silence. The troll’s nostrils flared as it finally stomped out of the doorway and turned its back on Ariel and Hermione so it could round on Ron.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Ariel muttered under her breath.

“What’re we going to do?” Hermione asked, looking around desperately.

“Get ready to run, is what.” Ariel answered, stepping forward and throwing her arm holding the metal pipe back in preparation, “OY! PEA BRAIN!”

The troll turned its head, as though she was suddenly a side thought, and Ariel chucked the pipe at it’s back. It hit him square in the shoulder, but if anything, her yell seemed to have affected it more than the hit. It’s ugly snout turned back towards her as Hermione yelled another “RUN!” at Ron, who was now blocked from view. That only seemed to drive the troll more berzerk. It roared again and started towards them. Ariel grabbed the sleeve of Hermione’s robes, and they began to skitter backwards.

And then Ron did something that Ariel couldn’t figure out if she thought was very smart or very stupid — he must have taking a great, running jump, for suddenly, he was dangling around the troll’s neck and shoving his wand up his nose. Ariel’s jaw dropped at the sight as the troll howled and twisted in pain. The club was flailing about dangerously, and for a terrible moment, she was quite sure that it was going to hit him or one of them, for the troll had stomped forward, and they had barely moved.

“Ron, get off!” Hermione cried. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Well, this wouldn’t have happened if you had BEEN AT THE FEAST!” Ron roared back.

Ariel recovered more quickly, a mad (completely mental, actually) thought crossing her mind. Taking a few steps forward, she shouted. “Wingardium Leviosa!”

The club flew out of the troll’s hand, flying high into the air, and then dropped with a sickening crack onto its own head, falling to the ground with a thud that nearly sent Ariel and Hermione falling over themselves. Ron rolled off the troll’s back, visibly shaking, as Ariel and Hermione shot forward.

“Are you alright, mate?” Ariel asked as Ron leaned his hands on his knees.

“Right as rain.” he replied with a shaky laugh, “Thanks, Ariel. I thought he’d throw me off for sure.”

“What were you doing? You put him in here?”

“NO!” Ron went white as a sheet. “Professor Quirrell came running into the Feast to warn us about the troll! I knew you guys weren’t there so I went looking for you… how long do you two take in the loo?”

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. It was then Ariel realized the terrible racket they must have been making, between the crashes and roars and screams and prayed like hell that Snape —

Please no no no no no

The first thing she saw was the inky black hair and the concentrated scowl and suddenly, the troll’s smell wasn’t the only thing making her feel sick. Professor McGonagall was right behind him, followed closely by Hagrid, who bent down to look at the fallen troll.

“What in Merlin’s name —” Ariel had never seen Professor McGonagall look so furious, lips white and eyes piercing. “What are you three doing here? You’re supposed to be with your Houses!”

Her face didn’t hold a candle to how Snape looked. Ariel saw Ron and Hermione cringe away from him, even though it was Professor McGonagall who was shouting. Snape had both hands clenched tightly at his sides, teeth bared, and a vein pulsing violently in his forehead.

Ron and Hermione looked at Ariel, who was opening and closing her mouth like a fish. “We uh… we um…” Ariel’s eyes darted about, trying to avoid the glares and imploring eyes that had all landed on her at once. “We… well…”

“Please, Professor!” Hermione cried suddenly, giving Ariel momentary relief as everyone looked at her instead. “We came here to use the loo when the troll wandered inside! It cornered us —”

“Yeah!” Ron jumped in, nodding along, like he liked what he was hearing. “I knew Ariel and Hermione weren’t at the Feast, so I came looking. I saw the troll go into the girl’s bathroom, and then I heard them screaming… I had to help! I just couldn’t leave them!”

Snape’s ice cold glare had turned burning hot, but he still had yet to utter a single word.

“And then the troll tried attacking him.” Ariel cut in. “We had to do something.”

“You could have been smashed to smithereens!” Professor McGonagall said a brittle voice, heavy under the weight of her fury. “What in Merlin’s name were you all thinking, taking on a full grown mountain troll?”

The three of them exchanged a look, causing Snape to take a menacing step forward.

“With all due respect, Professor,” Hermione said. “what else were we supposed to have done?”

Ron gaped at her like some sort of sea creature. Professor McGonagall sputtered at Hermione’s words while Snape looked like he was itching to grab Ariel. She took a protective step backwards, but made sure she was still clutching Hermione’s arm.

“And we did knock it out…” Ariel offered, causing Professor McGonagall’s own nostrils flare as the troll had just minutes ago. But then she did something Ariel did not expect. Professor McGonagall, instead of having steam come whistling out her ears, sighed, and clasped her hands tightly together in front of her.

“Very well.” she said in a voice that clearly said I-condone-none-of-this. “I suppose the circumstances were… not as they should have been. Fifteen points to Gryffindor.”

Ron beamed while Ariel and Hermione exchanged a relieved look.

And then Snape spoke.

“You two,” Sharp eyes stared both Ariel and Hermione down, a single finger beckoning them forward, “with me.”

Neither moved a muscle. Even Ron paled.

“Now!” Severus snapped when they did not comply. Ariel tugged at the robes that had still not left her grip, and she and Hermione fell forward to follow the billowing black mass that led the way down to the dungeons.

“Are you okay?” Hermione whispered anxiously to her as they walked, or more, ran in order to keep up with Snape’s long strides. “He can’t punish us. We did nothing wrong!”

Ariel didn’t answer. She had lost all reasoning when it came to explain why Snape did the things he did. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up when he tugged the door to his office open, pointing to their two chairs in front of his desk wordlessly. They both sat, but they both itched to bolt from the room the second their bottoms hit the wood. The… things in those creepy jars seemed to hum around them. Ariel hated it, and up until this point, she’d kinda liked Potions class.

Ariel could have testified under Veritaserum that the temperature dropped in the room. Both girls looked at each other from the corners of their eyes.

“Well?” Snape snapped, “I’m waiting.”

Ariel wanted to smash his stupid face in, then. The shock and fear was slowly sliding off of her, like rain on a roof. It sloshed off in great amounts, pooling at her feet, which still didn’t touch the floor. It suddenly didn’t matter if Snape was mad at them or not, because Snape never spoke to her, never treated her with an ounce of decency, and now, he was apparently her dad. That particular part still made her head want to explode, but for some reason, he thought that them being cornered by a troll was their fault?

She glared right back. Snape noticed, and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Why did you run?” Snape snarled at her.

“I didn’t.” said Ariel.

“You did.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did, I watched you.”

“Well, I didn’t watch you.”

Snape gave her a weird look, like he thought she’d lost her mind. Maybe she had. She couldn’t tell anymore, between the letter and the troll and Snape dragging her down to the dungeons to grind her into a potion.

“We were studying.” Hermione answered quickly.

“Studying.” Snape repeated flatly, obviously not buying it. “On a holiday.”

“I was just going to use the loo!” Ariel shot back. “It was in the bathroom and the troll cornered us. Then Ron showed up, we had no clue there was a troll in the school. How could we if we weren’t at the Feast?”

“So you were running through the halls,” said Snape, in a voice that didn’t believe them for a second. “And crashed you reprehensible person into mine because you had to use the loo. After studying.”

Snape glowered down at her, his hands flexing at his sides.

“What?” Ariel frowned, growing annoyed. “It’s not our fault. How did it even get inside Hogwarts?”

Hermione was shooting her a look that clearly told her to stop while she was ahead, but her irritation was steadily building, alongside Snape’s.

“‘How’ is irrelevant.” Snape spat back. “The point is that you were both not where you were supposed to be. If you had been, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Ariel fought back the urge to roll her eyes at his logic, but with a small head shake from Hermione, she leaned back in her chair. Snape wasn’t anything like Uncle Vernon (he was much scarier) but Ariel hadn’t forgotten how to intimidate. Unfortunately, Snape was immune to her glares. They did a good job on the Dursleys, when she tried. Snape gave her another one of those guarded, strange looks, like he was dealing with dangerous potions ingredients.

And then, he did something truly terrible.

“Miss Granger, you may return to your dormitory.” said Snape, a vicious glint in his eyes. “I’d like to speak with Miss Evans, alone.”

Ariel’s entire chest felt like it was caving in. Hermione shot her a look of horror, and before Snape could say anything, she was shaking her head vehemently at Snape. “No, sir, I’d rather stay —”

“That wasn’t a suggestion.” he snarled. “Out!”

“Sir, I —”

Snape’s biting glare made him appear skeletal in the candlelight. It was hardening the lines of his face, the line of his hooked nose, and if Ariel hadn’t been wondering why he wanted her alone, she might’ve done something Neville-esque and fainted. The idea of Snape knowing about the letter —

— which was sitting in her robe pocket, and she was sitting three feet away from her new father.

Ariel’s heart went THUMPTHUMPTHUMP so loud, she didn’t know how Hermione and Snape didn’t hear it.

“It’s okay, Hermione.” she managed to force out. “I’ll see you up there, yeah?”

Hermione shot her another one of those are-you-completely-insane glances, but before she could argue, Snape had thrown open his office door, pointing to the empty, dark corridor beyond it. Hermione peeled herself out of her seat, searching Ariel’s eyes for reassurance that she wasn’t abandoning her. Ariel gave her a slight nod back and managed to give something that looked like a smile. That anger towards Snape hadn’t subsided, but the impending doom of being forced to talk to him, alone, was sending her mind into fight-or-flight mode. She was itching to run through that door, all the way up to Gryffindor Tower, and never leave her bed ever again.

Hermione whirled around once she was over the threshold. “Sir —”

Snape slammed the door in her face. He rounded on Ariel, his expression homicidal. Ariel was not in the mood to think clearly about anyone’s state of mind anymore. She was, however, in the mood to say straight out whatever occurred to her without fear of the consequences

“You were running from something before.” Snape sat at the edge of the desk, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. “You’re going to tell me what.”

Ariel stared up at him, into those fathomless black eyes. Did hers look like that? Did they glitter menacingly, did they seem bottomless? She didn’t think so, otherwise, Dudley never would’ve picked on her.

“I told you.” Ariel said in her best lying voice. “I had to use the loo.”

Snape ripped out a snarl, slamming his fist down on the desk. It made Ariel jump, the letter crinkling against her side. She tried to keep her face straight, praying that Snape hadn’t heard it. He didn’t — his face had glossed over into a smooth, emotionless mask, like an undisturbed pond.

“I know what you were doing tonight.” Snape finally bit out. “Professor McGonagall told me you asked her permission, so I know you’re lying about studying, which tells me you’re lying about why you were rampaging through Hogwarts.”

Something cold slid down her spine and up her throat. “What did she say we were doing?”

His black eyes fixed on hers. This was the first time he was looking at her, really looking at her. Ariel wondered if Snape would recognize the eyes, put two and two together, when he finally looked away.

“Every magical child knows what happened on Halloween ten years ago.” Snape’s voice didn’t have a bottom. “And now, so do you. Professor McGonagall sympathized with this.”

“Because they died.” Ariel said. “My parents, I mean. James and Lily.”

She could’ve sworn she saw him flinch. The letter in her pocket suddenly felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Snape didn’t say anything, he just stared at her, like her was trying to read her mind. She could see his nails digging into the wood of the desk. This… bothered him.

And this made her bolder.

“Aunt Petunia never told me when it happened.” Ariel leaned forward in her seat. “You knew her, didn’t you? You said Aunt Petunia hated Mum because Mum had magic.”

Snape had gone very still. The candlelight flickering over his face was the only part of him that moved. His eyes had even stopped glittering. They’d gone as dark and cold as the dungeons. They weren’t a faraway look, more like he’d disappeared inside himself, and his body was a husk, a shell waiting to be inhabited again. Ariel kept her gaze level with his, waiting for a response, a reaction, anything.

When he spoke again, only his mouth moved.

“Detention, with me, tomorrow.” Snape hissed. “Don’t be late.”

Ariel blinked up at him. “What?”

Her confusion seemed to snap him out of whatever was happening inside of Snape’s head. He bared his teeth, leering over her as she leaned back, cursing herself as the letter made its presence known again. If Snape heard it this time, he didn’t say so.

“Get,” his whisper was louder than any troll’s roar. “Out.”

Ariel didn’t argue. She felt… satisfied.

Snape knew something, and she was going to find out what.

-----

Severus could’ve sworn the girl had a smile on her face when she left. He didn’t like that smile, didn’t like how it followed her questions like a victory march. He picked up a jar and threw it into the fireplace. It exploded, causing the fire to roar intensely for a moment before settling back comfortably into the hearth.

Because they died

Stupid fucking —

Mum had magic

That girl was up to something. She’d changed, between this morning’s Potions class and minutes ago. There was a sharpness in her face, a glint of mischief in her eyes. That haunted, ghostly face that had barrelled into him earlier in the evening was gone. It was hard for Severus to categorize them as the same person.

Neither of those people looked like Lily. Not one of them looked like her daughter, either.

Evans… knew something, and Severus was going to find out what.

To be continued...
End Notes:
A/N: Thank you for all the kind words last chapter. Please, if you can spare a moment, they really go a long way.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I hope it wasn't too canon-y, but chapters like this are necessary.

Stay safe, and until next time! x
Chapter 5: white blank page by shostakobitch

The next morning, Ariel and Hermione showed Ron the letter.

He was still mad at them for abandoning him the night before, but he seemed to be more understanding when Hermione insisted that she wasn’t about to leave Ariel alone. Ariel had then tried to explain that she’d wanted to be alone, but Hermione had cut in that it was better that she hadn’t, because of the troll thing, and all. Ron deflated a little bit at this, nodding along as Ariel quietly shared that her parent’s death was something she felt the need to commemorate since they had, you know, died and all.

They’d settled themselves by one of the fireplaces, far enough away from everyone else so no one could overhear. The other Gryffindors were busying themselves with getting ready to go down to breakfast, or finishing last minute assignments. The fire felt nice against the chilly November air that had begun to creep into the walls of the school. Ariel was wearing the jumper Hermione had loaned her, while Hermione had settled for her fluffy bathrobe. Ron was still in pajamas, and barefoot. It made Ariel shiver just looking at him. Fred and George were lurking around, planting dungbombs in some of the seventh years’ bathrooms. Some of them had apparently taken credit for an invention they’d put together, and they’d unintentionally started a one-sided war. Ariel felt bad for the seventh years, they didn’t know what they were in for.

When Ariel handed him the letter, Ron gave her a weird look, like she’d given him one of Hagrid’s rock-cakes. “You want me to read it?”

“Of course I do.” Ariel frowned. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re one of my best mates.”

Ron went as red as a tomato. “I… erm, well, yeah, I mean, me too, but you don’t think it’s, I dunno, too personal for me to read?”

She shook her head. “I can’t explain it. You need to see for yourself.”

He gave the letter a wary look, as if he was afraid it would grow teeth and bite him. “Well… what does it say?”

Ariel fought the urge to roll her eyes. “That’s kinda the whole point of reading it.”

“I know that. Can you at least give me some sort of hint? You’re starting to scare me.”

Hermione and Ariel exchanged a knowing look. This seemed to make Ron angry again, because he huffed and crossed his arms. “Fine. Be that way. If you can’t bother to tell me where you will and won’t be and not tell me anything about whatever the bloody hell is going on —”

“It’s about my dad.” Ariel cut him off.

Ron stared at her as if she’d spoken a foreign language.

“It’s best you read it for yourself.” Hermione chimed in nervously. She wrung her hands in her bathrobe. Ariel could tell she was uncomfortable with all of this, but Hermione had done a pretty good job at masking it. She still couldn’t tell if it was just the part about Snape, or everything in between. Ariel wasn’t sure about it either, which made her feel both better and worse.

“Stuff like what?” Ron demanded.

It was at this precise moment that one of Fred and George’s traps went off, which resulted in a lot of frantic yelling, and a thin layer of smoke to slowly seep across the ceiling. The three of them jumped, a triumphant “HUZZAH!” echoing from somewhere nearby. Ariel couldn’t help but crack a smile at that. Ron, however, did not.

Ariel was reminded of a couple of nights after she’d left the Dursleys, when she’d gone to use the loo at the Burrow, and heard Mrs Weasley whispering angrily at Ron. He’d wanted to know why Ariel was there, what had happened, and why no one would tell him why’d she’d be staying with them until school started. Mrs Weasley had thought he was being rude and nosy, but it had made Ariel feel guilty, like she was holding onto a secret she had no right to keep, especially if she was imposing on the Weasleys. Ron sounded the same as he did then, both offended and forgotten. Ariel had told him the next day why she was there, about Dumbledore and Snape, but he’d thought she was lying about that last part.

“Mum kept some things a secret.” she said quietly. “Please, just trust me.”

Ron gave her another doubtful look, but unfolded the letter slowly. He didn’t start reading until Ariel gave him another nod, signaling that it was okay. She could tell when he got up to The Spot — his eyes went as wide as saucers and froze, like he couldn’t tear them away. He looked the letter up and down a few times, his fingers tracing over her mum’s words, smudged and uneven, both in their penmanship, and their delivery.

Ron looked at the letter, back up at Ariel, and then down at the letter again. “You’re pulling my leg. Did Fred and George put you up to this?”

Hermione spoke before Ariel could. “Really, Ronald? Why would we joke about something like that?”

Ariel was relieved to see that Ron was equally as horrified about this as she was. She still thought Hermione should’ve been way more upset. It was Snape.

Ron just kept shaking his head, his hair, still a mess from bed, falling into his eyes. “No, there’s got to be some mistake.”

“I don’t think there is.” Ariel said dejectedly.

“Yeah but… but how could Snape not know?” Ron continued scanning the page with laser beam precision. “There’s another page, right?”

“No, that’s it.” Hermione bit her lip, eyebrows furrowing. “We couldn’t figure it out either. It’s rather short.”

“Too short, if you ask me.” Ariel said, trying to keep her emotions in check. She felt like laughing and screaming at the same time. “She said she Obliviated him —”

“Yeah but… what about you?” Ron asked, an edge to his voice, a concern that finally released the tightness in her chest. “She left you to deal with Snape, and he’s bloody awful! You see what he does to Neville, how he favors the Slytherins!”

Ariel swallowed back the lump in her throat. She had been so angry, after coming back from Snape’s office. Hermione had tried talking to her, but all she’d done was crawl into bed, draw the curtains, and cast a Silencing charm. She’d cried, not for long, but enough to make herself feel a little bit better. The satisfaction of catching Snape off guard had come back to her in waves, when the bitter realization that her parents were not as perfect as she’d thought wasn’t chipping away at her heart. For a little while, Ariel had thought that she was angry just with Snape for being a git, but when she’d peered at her wall of pictures, she’d felt her chest burn with anger at her mother.

Adults are weird.” Ron handed the letter back to her, shaking his head. “What’re you going to do? You can’t tell him.”

“I’m working on it.” Ariel said, rubbing at her eyes.

“I agree.” Hermione said firmly. “You shouldn’t say anything until you’re sure.”

“Then how am I supposed to find out if he’s really my dad?” Ariel asked, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “I’ve got to tell him at some point.”

Hermione bit her lip, and then, in a quiet voice, said, “If your mum couldn’t tell him then, what makes you think it’s okay to tell him now?”

That was a good question, Ariel realized, as another wave of horror washed over her. She stared down at the words in her hands, not reading it, but staring at the parchment, which was as old as she was. There was so much she didn’t understand. Death Eaters and James and the Order… she felt like a speck in the middle of space, small and undefined.

Ariel’s brain was beginning to hurt, as if it were too big, like all of their opinions and this new information was too much for her to handle. She’d thought telling Ron would take some of the load off, but it didn’t. It only made it worse. She hadn’t slept all night, rereading her mum’s words over and over, trying to make sense of it. When she’d tried to sleep, she’d felt her picture-parents’ eyes on her, the pictures that had brought her so much comfort now only making her anxiety worse. Ariel could feel them watching, feel their knowing glances down at her, saying, “we know you know, now what are you going to do about it?”

Hermione hadn’t said a word when she saw Ariel taking them down earlier that morning.

“I don’t believe it.” Ron said, breaking the tense silence. “Why Snape? How do you know your mum actually wrote this? It could be fake.”

“It was in her old school trunk.” Ariel smoothed her hand over the letter, folding it neatly down the middle. She’d have to find a better hiding spot than under her mattress. “Everything else in there was hers… why wouldn’t the letter?”

“And what would be the point in that?” Hermione chimed in. “Who would gain from making up something like this? I can’t think of anyone… can either of you?”

“Maybe Snape?” Ron guessed. “He’s a weird bloke. Maybe he put it there?”

“Snape hates me.” said Ariel, the words twisting her heart. They hadn’t done that when she’d said them last night. This bothered her. “I have a plan, though. I’m gonna find out what he knows.”

It was Ron and Hermione’s turns to exchange a wary, panicked look between them.

“What?” Ariel bristled. “I’m not going to flat out ask him. He knew my Aunt Petunia, that means the letter has to be a little bit true. She doesn’t have magic, but Mum did, so she could have known Snape, could’ve been his friend, I guess. If he really is my dad, I have to know. He seemed awfully bothered when I asked about it last night.”

“You what?” Ron bleated. “Have you gone completely mental?”

“I wanted to know the truth — I have a right to know!”

“But —”

Hermione let out a loud gasp, then. It was more of a shriek, but she quickly put her hands over her mouth. Ariel gave her a startled look, but before she could ask what was wrong, Ron was letting out a shout of his own, pointing a finger at the letter settled in her lap.

When Ariel looked down at it, the words were fading away, like melting snow. Her heart turned from fire, to ice.

“NO!” she frantically smoothed her hands over the letter, trying to get it to stop. “No no no!”

“What’s happening?” Ron leaned over, pulling at the corners as he tried to get a better look. “Why’s it doing that?”

The words at the far edges were the first to go, as if there was a magical eraser hovering over the page that they couldn’t see. Ariel couldn’t look away, couldn’t tear her eyes as they went, leaving her behind. She wanted to go with them, wherever they were going.

“I don’t know!” Hermione pointed her wand at the letter. “Hold on, I’m going to try a restoration charm. Ever —”

“No, don’t!”

Words were appearing in the very center of the page again, only this time, the handwriting was steady, neat, in a tight cursive. It was still her mum’s, but it looked so much cleaner, like she’d sat down and written it out thoughtfully. The old letter had been so cluttered, so messy and unintentional, too many discoveries and secrets for only one page to hold by itself.

“Where do we go when we walk on light?” it read now, her mum’s confession gone entirely. No more Snape and James, no more Order, no more Death Eaters and Voldemort.

“Wha… what does that mean?” Ariel asked, looking between Ron and Hermione helplessly. “What happened?”

Hermione gently pried the letter from her hands, her fingers curling into the space where it had been. She felt abandoned, those stupid (amazing, wonderful, heartwarming) words gone, no longer proof that her mum was real, that she had been there, and she’d loved her. Not to mention that the proof that Snape was her dad was gone now, too.

“It must be some sort of protective spell.” Hermione finally sighed, looking troubled. “You usually break them by reciting the answer. I read about them at the start of term, I’ll have to find the book in the library again.”

“How am I supposed to figure it out?” Ariel stared at the parchment, feeling miserable and hopeless. She’d hated that letter (loved it, how could she ever have hated it?) and now, it was gone, just like her mum was. “She didn’t say anything about it… why would she spell it to disappear? Why now? Why not make it so only I can see it instead? This doesn’t make any sense!”

“Maybe try looking through the trunk?” Ron suggested, patting her shoulder comfortingly. “There’s got to be some way to figure it out… but you’re right, why make it disappear like that? She wanted you to read it, didn’t she?”

“The trunk is a good idea.” Hermione nodded eagerly. “You said she had old notebooks in there… maybe we could go through them? The counterspell could be written down somewhere. She must’ve left it for you, but she must’ve also wanted to make sure that no one else read it once you had. There must’ve been a time limit on it.”

Ariel didn’t know what to say. She wanted the wobbly vowels and crossed out sentences back. When she peered down at the only words filling up the page, she didn’t recognize the person who’d written them anymore.

“I’m glad you guys know.” she whispered, her eyes refusing to look up. “I’m glad you saw what she said. It means a lot.”

Hermione was hugging her before she could apologize for dragging them into this. She was secretly terrified that Ron would’ve been so disgusted with her, but the look on his face made her feel awful for even thinking that.

“ARIEL!” a voice screeched from the girls’ dormitory — it was Lavender. “ARIEL, my FAIRY LIGHTS!”

Ron jumped up from where he sat. “Bloody hell, what’s she going on about?”

Ariel didn’t move. She just folded the letter, and rubbed at her eyes tiredly. “The pictures,” she muttered. “Lavender spent so much time helping… she’s going to have a fit.”

—————

Severus found himself in a fouler mood than usual the next morning, and it had — not for the first time since term had begun — everything to do with Lily-thing.

He’d spent more time than he’d wanted to last night trying to piece together what the fuck could be going on inside her stupid little head. It was maddening, trying to figure out what the brat could’ve possibly gotten in to to warrant such a drastic shift in personality. Severus tried to label that smart little smile the girl had given him as Potter, but he couldn’t. It was the same smile he’d seen on Lily-thing’s face after she’d seen what he’d done to Petunia’s bedroom.

Aunt Petunia never told me when it happened

You knew her, didn’t you?

You said Aunt Petunia hated Mum because Mum had magic

Severus should have anticipated Lily-thing asking him about that. He hadn’t exactly hidden his emotions well after seeing the brat under the stairs, which was something he mentally berated himself for weeks after, but someone had to be angry. Dumbledore, even though those brief flashes of righteous anger filled in the whites of his eyes, would not have given Petunia half the retribution she deserved.

He really, really hated Petunia for that.

And yet, Seveurs had not asked the Headmaster what he’d done when Lily-thing’s relatives had returned home.

After resigning himself to accepting that he’d have to interrogate Lily-thing during her detention with him, he’d gone to bed, only to dream about Lily-thing being stepped on by the mountain troll, her mother’s ghost watching from afar. She’d let out a scream that had Severus shooting out of bed like a bullet, and then, he’d slept no more.

As Severus stalked into the Great Hall, he observed most of the first year Slytherins huddled around Draco. This wasn’t unusual, the boy had his father’s ability to hold a room, to make those around him think he was the only one worth being the center of attention. Lucius was a master at it, unless, of course, he had been in the same room as the Dark Lord. He’d slashed his confidence on more than one occasion in order to assert his dominance, but after his fall, Lucius had grown even cockier. That arrogance had not been lost on his only son.

The Gryffindor table was distinctly lacking three students, Severus noticed. His blood pressure shot through the roof at the thought of last night, of hearing the girls’ screams and the roar of the troll just as he’d run into Minerva.

“... a shame Evans wasn’t eaten by that mutt.” Draco was bragging. “It might’ve worked, if it hadn’t been for Weasley and Granger.”

He stopped short, and the students noticed. It was Parkinson who was the first to look panicked. Her face was enough to send the others skittering from the table. They all knew they were talking about something that would get them in trouble, and Draco, being a Malfoy, had chosen to say precisely the wrong thing just as Severus was walking by. The boy might’ve had Lucius’ charm, but he had absolutely none of his tact. They were only a handful of words, an offhand comment, but Severus knew everything he needed to know in that moment.

Something inside of him went click, and then, snap.

Lily-thing knew about the Stone.

Severus threw up his Shields before he did something semi-regrettable.

“I’m sorry, Mr Malfoy,” Severus hissed. “what was that?”

The Slytherins finished peeling themselves away from the table, leaving their breakfast mostly untouched.

Draco went as white as a sheet. “Nothing! I’m sorry, Professor Snape —”

“I recall the Headmaster saying something about ‘dying a terrible death,’ should anyone find themselves in the third floor corridor.” he gaze hardened. “Expulsion, for anyone who tries.”

“Y-yes, sir. I haven’t been up there, I swear!” Draco looked around desperately, but the others had left, and Parkinson was tripping over herself as she gathered her books. “I was just — Evans told me! She was bragging about how she saw some monster… you should tell Professor Dumbledore, she could get someone hurt!”

It was a lie, though, not a bad attempt. Children were horrible liars (Lily-thing being the worst of them all in his experience). Severus might have believed it had he not heard Draco moments before, and thought that Lily-thing was a homicidal maniac. The girl was about as intimidating as a worm.

“I see.” Severus glared at him. “I’ll speak to Miss Evans… I would hope such a tale would serve as a warning to others.”

Draco gulped and nodded, letting himself be dragged away by Parkinson. Normally, Severus wouldn’t care what the little monsters got up to, but Lucius and Narcissa would become a thorn in his side if something happened to their precious baby boy — especially if they found out it had something to do with Lily-thing. That matter wasn’t as pressing now, because if the brats knew about Fluffy, then Severus would have bet his wand arm that they knew about the Stone somehow.

It was all coming together inside his head, a mindmeld that made him want to smash the breakfast plates. Lily-thing and Granger must have seen something last night, must have known something about whoever let that damn mountain troll in…

Severus was seething as he sat down at the High Table, but he hid it well. The girl would show up eventually, and when she did, he was going to make sure she knew what she was in for tonight. If that girl went anywhere near the Stone, Severus was going to kill someone. It couldn’t be her, because if she went after it, she’d be dead already.

He purposefully forced himself to sit next to Dumbledore, who was far too happy with this development. The old man began chatting away about whatever Hagrid had ended up doing with the troll, which Severus barely paid attention to as he watched the entrance to the Great Hall. He was waiting for Lily-thing, because he was going to make sure she knew that he knew, and that he was going to make her sorry she’d ever had a curious thought in her life.

“Severus?” Dumbledore broke his concentration, a look of mild concern on his face. “Are you alright? You seem a tad stressed.”

He reluctantly broke his line of sight with the door to speak. “Did Minerva tell you who found the troll?”

Dumbledore’s mustache twitched. “She did, although, from what I was told, it was the troll who found them.”

Almost as if she knew they were talking about her, Lily-thing appeared in the doorway, Weasley and Granger at her side. She looked miserable as she dragged herself to the Gryffindor table, like there was a rain cloud hanging over her head. He hoped it was because of the detention. Severus sent her a cracking look, one that would’ve leveled the strongest of wizards. Granger was shoveling food onto her plate when Lily-thing finally lifted her eyes in his direction. He could still feel his blood pumping in his ears, the thought of the girl anywhere near Hagrid’s fucking monstrosity making it hard to concentrate.

Stupid, FOOLISH girl.

She stared right back, unfazed. It was almost as if she was looking right through him.

His knuckles cracked beneath the table. Why that little —

Mum had magic

To his annoyance, Dumbledore took note of this interaction. “I was wondering,” he said. “if you’d happened to notice anything that seemed different about Ariel?”

Severus looked back to the girl. She was shoving her eggs around her plate like they were toxic waste. The old man had noticed it too, but this wasn’t even remotely alarming. Dumbledore noticed everything. Severus would rather impale himself with his fork than mention what Lily-thing had asked about her aunt and mother last night. Dumbledore would take that inch, and he’d twinkle at him for days until he finally asked why Severus didn’t try to get to know the brat. That’s what all these questions about Evans were really about, after all.

“She’s developed an… edge.” Severus jammed his fork into a sausage. “It’s undoubtedly the hero-complex she’s inherited from her father.”

Dumbledore clasped his hands together, like he was about to hear a story he’d heard a thousand times before.

“Miss Evans knows about the Stone.” Severus said, keeping his eyes trained on the brat. “That’s why she wasn’t at the Feast last night.”

He didn’t know what he expected, but the lack of any sort of appropriate reaction from Dumbledore made Severus’ blood boil. The old man simply leaned back in his chair, his blue eyes watching the girl as well. “I see. I assume she shared this with you?”

“She ran into Hagrid’s pet, and I caught her running through the halls last night with Granger, running from something, and then they just so happened to end up finding that troll. She knows. She… was acting strangely last night.” Severus seethed, ignoring Dumbledore’s suddenly intense gaze. “She was clearly frightened, but when I brought her and Miss Granger into my office she was… defiant — angry. The girl knows more than she’s letting on.”

“What did she say, when you questioned her?” asked Dumbledore, serious.

“Nothing that wasn’t a lie.”

Dumbledore frowned. “I hardly think Ariel would lie if she saw something.”

“You don’t know that.” Severus snapped. “You hardly know the girl.”

Something like regret pulsed through Dumbledore’s face, like a round of lightning. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, but it shot through Severus as well, a sharpness that twisted his insides the wrong way. He could have very well told Severus that he didn’t know the girl well enough either to be making such accusations. The difference was that Dumbledore felt guilty, and Severus felt horror at even entertaining the notion.

“Well, while we’re discussing the subject,” Dumbledore reached for the marmalade, spreading it across his toast with a merry smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’d like you to keep an eye on Quirinus.”

It took Severus a minute to comprehend what Dumbledore had said. His eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

“Quirinus, my dear boy.” he took a bite, gazing thoughtfully towards the ceiling. “I’d like for you to shadow him for a few days. Perhaps longer, should you find anything suspicious.”

“And why in Merlin’s name would I —” Severus stopped, setting down the cutlery. Dumbledore continued to eat, like they were discussing the weather, and not stalking a colleague. “What is it you know?”

“I know very little about anything.” he said cheerfully. “It would be unwise, however, to simply ignore that he was late for the Feast when a mountain troll entered the school. Wouldn’t you agree?”

This was just what he needed — to be paranoid about something else. Lily-thing was going to get herself eaten before Christmas, and Dumbledore thought that numskull Quirrell was trying to steal the bloody stone. He’d known someone must have been, for it to be held here at the school, but Dumbledore had told him something at the start of term, something that had made his blood turn to ice.

“I recall Tom asking me to put him in touch with Nicolas.” he’d said, as they’d sealed the chamber that would house the Stone. “It was just after I’d denied him the Defense position for the very first time. He’d expressed wanting to become an apprentice under him, if I recall correctly. I’d like to think I saved Nicolas’ life, by denying Tom that opportunity.”

Severus did not respond to this. He supposed it was good, in a way, to hone in his rage on something that would be otherwise beneficial to keeping the school safe. What Quirrell wanted with the Stone, Merlin only knew, but luckily, he was quite low on his list of people he tolerated. The man was a bumbling idiot, far too much of a coward to serve as any sort of example to children on how the Dark Arts were to be handled.

Yes, Severus decided, Quirrell would do quite nicely.

—————

Ariel left for her detention with Snape after receiving several pep talks from Ron and Hermione. She didn’t think she would have been able to handle Ron’s worried questions and Hermione’s searching eyes, not when her own stomach was in knots, but they were just as invested in this as she was, though Ariel was beginning to suspect that Hermione was treating this as more of a puzzle. She’d scoured old texts from the library while Ron and Ariel had skimmed through her mum’s old notebooks, reading aloud anything she thought might be helpful, but the author’s words echoed a different time, in rhyme and reason Ariel didn’t think she could even begin to try and decode. That was why, she supposed, Hermione was handling the research aspect.

They’d made an agreement that Ariel would not share anything from her mum’s letter, only that she’d try and see what Snape did and didn’t know. Ron had started to look a little green towards the end, but Hermione had shoved him off in the direction of the boys’ dorms, leaving Ariel to begin her descent down to Snape’s classroom. They’d assured her that they’d keep searching through her mother’s trunk for anything that could lead them in the right direction.

Where do we go when we walk on light? Ariel wondered what it meant. She wondered even more what the answer was. She hadn’t brought the letter with her, mostly because she was mad at it. What kind of stupid letter disappeared after reading it, anyway? How was she supposed to prove anything to Snape if it came to it? What if she told him and he thought she was a liar? Or worse… what if he tried to get her expelled for it?

She couldn’t remember ever feeling this nervous about something, ever.

Ariel let herself drag her feet a little as she made her way down into the dungeons. She’d never had a detention before, and wasn’t looking forward to the fact that her first one was with Snape. Fred and George griped a lot about them, but she had a feeling they were exaggerating a whole lot of it, and mostly to mess with Ron. As she passed by the Slytherin dorms she made a face, sticking out her tongue, secretly hoping Malfoy was directly on the other side. She couldn’t stand him — she remembered punching Dudley once, when he’d made some stupid, thoughtless comment about her parents and clocking him right in the nose, so hard it had started to bleed. Ariel had that same urge whenever he saw the look Malfoy gave Hermione, like she was dirt underneath his boot. The way he’d spoken to her on the Hogwarts Express was enough to (almost) make her lose it.

Snape liked Malfoy, though. Well, maybe liked was too strong of a word, but he certainly favored him.

This was the thought in her head when Ariel rapped on the door to his classroom. It flew open, a dark, foreboding figure looming over her, like a cat about to pounce on its prey.

Have some fire, her mum had said. Be better.

She stared up at Snape. His black eyes glared down at her menacingly, the light from the candles lining the corridor reflecting off them.

“In.” Snape jerked his head, pulling back the door so Ariel could enter. She remembered Fred and George telling her and Ron about Snape, but it was just how she’d pictured it the first day of classes, minus some of the torture devices the twins had listed. A dull light filtered in from the candles, most of them down to the wick. It was darker than it usually was, an eerie wall of blues and greens illuminated on the shelves. Ariel shuddered as she looked at the specimens inside, swearing one of them winked at her. She wondered how he worked in here.

Snape swept past her, his black robes brushing past her, and pointed at two large buckets of dead toads.

“You’re going to gut them.” Snape said in a soft voice, the same one he used in class. It was both an order, and somehow, a direct insult.

The poor-dead toads stared up at her, pleading with her not to do this terrible thing with their lifeless eyes. Snape dropped a pair of gloves — though they could barely be called that, they were full of holes and fraying at the seams — onto the table beside the buckets.

“All of them?” Ariel asked, horrified.

Snape gave her a horrible smile, one that made a shiver run up her spine. “All of them.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, slapping down the gloves on the bench with more force than necessary. That hard little rock inside her chest she’d felt last night gazing up at her dead mum’s pictures was growing hot, burning against her throat. It wanted out, in that moment, but instead, Ariel swallowed roughly and took a deep breath. If Snape had noticed her flare up, he didn’t say so. He’d stalked over to his desk to set down a pile of papers. Ariel wondered if they were from her class — Snape never handed her back papers, though. He’d never returned a single thing to her, never given her a comment or even told her that she was doing well. Ariel only assumed because he hadn’t insulted her potion-making abilities… yet. That was a good thing, she supposed, because she rather liked —

Her stomach did a series of backflips. She was good at potions… because of the potions professor.

The poor-dead toads stared up at her, their eyes as empty as the space where her heart had been.

Ariel studied Snape while he worked. He wasn’t very handsome, but he wasn’t that old, either. She didn’t know how old he was, but if he’d gone to school with her mum and dad, that meant he was still kind of young, didn’t it? All adults in her mind were old, but he wasn’t old like Professor Dumbledore. Ariel could still remember the nasty shock she’d gotten when the Headmaster had told her Snape was a teacher, back in the Dursley’s kitchen. Back then, he’d just been a scary adult, but Snape the Teacher was someone… really, really scary.

Snape the Teacher is your dad, said a very nasty little voice inside her head, inside that wonderful?

Ariel ripped into the next poor-dead toad a little too harshly, blood and guts splattering her robes. She winced, mumbling an apology under her breath as it’s mouth hung open at her in shock. Her eyes flitted back to Snape, who was still ignoring her.

What had her mum seen in him that she couldn’t? He was so… mean.

Ariel was fifteen poor-dead toads in when she decided that she was going to try and talk to him. Snape still hadn’t looked up from the papers he was grading, his mouth fixed in a tight line as he slashed through what looked like essays with a blood-red quill. She stared down at the poor-dead toad guts, noticing her breath coming out slightly ragged, like she’d just finished running. The Sorting Hat had wanted her in Slytherin, and Slytherins were (awful) good at this sort of thing, weren’t they? They were good at getting what they wanted without being too obvious…

But she wasn’t a Slytherin, she was a Gryffindor.

She set down the carving knife, and took a deep breath. “Did you and the other professors ever find out how that troll got into the school?”

Snape’s eyes flickered to her, completely uninterested. “Magic.”

She blinked back. “What kind of magic?”

“The most unspeakable kind.”

Ariel wondered if he was being purposefully annoying. “Has a troll ever gotten into the school before?” she tried instead.

“Not since I was hired.” Snape stopped grading to give her a dark, warning glare. It felt like looking into the mouth of a cave.

“Okay… so…. how long have you been teaching?” she tried to make herself sound forceful, but it came out small, like she was wondering if she could ask the question.

“Too long.” he went back to the essay, his quill probably ruining some poor first years’ self esteem.

She bit her tongue, picking up the carving knife again. “You don’t like teaching?”

“I don’t like this conversation.” he stopped grading, only his eyes moving to give her a pointed glower. “You’re never this… chatty.”

“You don’t know that.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously. He set the quill down. “I do.”

“You and I have never talked before.” Ariel stuck the carving knife into the table. Snape finally noticed it then, his black eyes snapping up to meet hers.

“You want to have a conversation?” Snape hissed. “Fine. Let’s discuss last night.”

Oh no — had it only been last night? Everything felt like it had happened eons ago. The secret weighed so heavily on Ariel’s mind that it felt like it had been with her all her life. She might’ve been a Gryffindor, but she didn’t think she had it in her to have a conversation with Snape without letting it slip that Lily Potter thought he was her real dad. Hadn’t they had this conversation already anyway? Maybe he was still mad about it… he’d kicked her out when she’d asked about Aunt Petunia. She had a feeling it wasn’t a pleasant subject for him. They had that in common.

Ariel squared her chin, and tried to make herself look brave. “What about it?”

“You know what.” Snape bared his teeth, which were yellow and uneven on the bottom. “Let’s really discuss what you saw.”

She picked up another poor-dead toad, ripping the knife down its belly to keep her mind from wandering to the stupid (not stupid) letter. “I didn’t do anything wrong besides smacking into you… I’m sorry about that, by the way. I was running from —”

“So you were running from something.” Snape’s nostrils flared aggressively, like a bull about to charge.

Ariel set the poor dead-toad down on the table again, confused with this sudden burst of anger. “Not really. I just didn’t want to be there anymore.”

Snape stared at her, suspicion plainly written all over his face. His lip curled as he slammed a drawer closed, standing to lean forward over the desk. She stared back at him, trying to see whatever her Mum had. Something inside of her suddenly itched, this need to tell him, because he was suspicious and he wanted to know something. Ariel just couldn’t figure out what it was that he was after…

“The Stone.” Snape said flatly. “I know you know.”

It took Ariel a minute to comprehend what he was saying. “The — stone? What stone?”

“You know what blasted Stone!” Snape snarled. “I know you and your little friends ran into that beast guarding it. I overheard Mr Malfoy discussing it, so don’t — lie — to me.”

All of the blood drained from her face. She’d forgotten about the dog, and the revenge she’d been planning to take against Draco. The three-headed dog was… guarding a stone? It must’ve been pretty important, because Snape was getting angrier and angrier. Of course Draco had told Snape… she didn’t know why she expected any different.

“I don’t know about any stone,” Ariel said carefully. “honest. Draco tricked us into going down there for a stupid duel, but I didn’t see anything else besides Fluffy.”

“No? Ariel Evans didn’t find anything remotely interesting about a giant three-headed monster guarding the forbidden corridor?”

“No!” her face felt hot. “What does this have to do with last night?”

Snape’s glare hardened, the lines of his face deep against the dim candlelight. “You’re going to tell me what you saw. It’s imperative myself and the other professors know.”

Her head was going to explode, Ariel was sure of it. “What would I have seen? You know we ran into the troll, and we didn’t know it was there because Hermione and I weren’t at the Feast!”

“No more questions.” he growled at her, like he wanted to Hex her, or worse. “What did you see?”

“I didn’t see anything!”

“You did.”

“No, I didn’t! And even if I did see something, what does that have to do with —”

“Because someone is trying to steal it!” you idiot — his tone finished the sentence.

“Oh.” Ariel felt herself bristling. “Well, of course I would tell you if I saw something! Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re a meddlesome Gryffindor.” Snape sneered.

“I am not!” she said, a little too loudly. Snape gave her a dangerous look that knocked her down at least two pegs. “I’m telling the truth! Hermione and I were just sitting there and I… I don’t know, I really didn’t feel good all of a sudden.”

Even Ariel realized, in that moment, how terrible of a liar she was. It made her mad, because she was telling most of the truth. She was just leaving out a very small (huge, gigantic, nuclear) detail. Snape, however, still wasn’t buying it. If she’d seen someone trying to steal some magic stone, she would’ve said something. She wasn’t completely mental.

“I promise I didn’t see anyone or anything.” Ariel said, just as Snape started to threaten her with something about the Headmaster. “It was just Hermione and I, we don’t know who let that troll in, and I don’t know about this stone you keep mentioning. What’s so important about it, anyway? Who’d want to steal it?”

Snape deflated a bit, but his eyes were still ice cold and unrelentingly staring her down. “It’s none of your business.”

“You’re accusing me of knowing about it, so I’d say it’s pretty important.”

“I’d say you’d better watch it,” Snape’s eyes flashed. “or I’ll have you gutting toads till morning.”

“Well if I’m gutting toads, I can’t look for this stone then, yeah?”

Ariel didn’t know what had caused her to say that, and while she was quite happy with herself for being brave and not letting Snape scare her up until then, it all dissipated at the thunderous expression that rolled over his face.

“I’ll stay away from the Stone,” Ariel said quickly — something that felt like her fight-or-flight instinct was kicking in. “and tell you what I was really doing during the Feast last night, if you tell me something.”

Snape jerked away, as if she’d thrown something at him. She could tell she’d caught him off guard, again, just like she had last night, but he stayed frozen. He didn’t break eye contact. Ariel could tell he wasn’t really looking at her anymore. “How is that in any way relevant? You’re in detention because you were doing something you shouldn’t have. If you’re withholding information —“

“It’s not!” she crossed her arms at him. “I told you, I don’t know anything you don’t!”

“Isn’t the Stone enough?” he snarled. “You’re not allowed near it. You’re not supposed to know, and if I catch you trying to find it, so help me —”

“No, I don’t care about that.” she did — her brain was already running through how she was going to explain all this to Hermione and Ron when she got back upstairs. “You knew Aunt Petunia, but you haven’t talked to me at all. Why?”

Snape just stared at her, his expression a mixture of disgust and blatant shock. He didn’t wear the look well at all. Ariel had somehow gotten in front of his desk. She didn’t remember her feet moving, or telling herself to leave the safety of the workbench and the poor dead-toads. He was taller up close, a whole lot taller than she was, but she was shorter than all the other first years. She’d overheard Malfoy telling Pansy one day, “how could someone so small have defeated You-Know-Who?”

“You’re treading on dangerously thin ice, girl.” Snape said in a quiet, deadly voice, one that was louder than any scream.

For some reason, Ariel was not scared by this. “Why won’t you just tell me? You said Aunt Petunia and my Mum didn’t get along. Did you know her?”

His face had gone hollow. He sagged against his chair. “Not this again.”

“Did you know her?” Ariel asked again — she was breathing hard and fast. “Did you know my Mum? She wrote me a letter. I read it last night, that’s why I was upset, okay? Everyone knew her and my dad, but no one knew them. You did though, you said so — you were her friend.”

Snape fell back into his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose, like he had a bad headache. He was silent for a few minutes, the only sound in the room Ariel’s labored breathing, and something simmering in a cauldron nearby.

“I’m telling you the truth, I swear.” she cursed herself for the wobble in her voice. “That’s all I was doing. I didn’t see anyone, it was just Hermione and I.”

Please tell me please please please

The things in the jars behind his desk were the only things moving, like they were nodding along in agreement. Ariel kept her gaze even, watching him, watching his eyes, but there was nothing there. He’d gone cold and dark, like a person when turned to stone. There was such a lack of a reaction, and yet, such a sudden shift in his demeanor, that Ariel knew the letter must be true. He might not have remembered everything, but he did remember her mum.

Her heart ballooned, like her courage. “Did you know her? I asked Mrs Weasley, but she said only in passing, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon basically banned me from asking. I’ve never met someone who was their friend. Were you?”

“Was I what?” his voice was sharp and precise.

Ariel couldn’t help but jump at his response, but her chest hammered away, like an axe beating a block of wood. “Her friend.”

Something happened in his eyes, a light the size of the end of a needle. It shot through her like one. “Something like that.” Snape’s voice was twisted and uneven, identical to her mum’s handwriting.

Ariel was beginning to learn that Snape did not talk like a normal person. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I did not wish to tell you.” he said tonelessly.

“Is that why you came to the Dursleys?” Ariel crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “Because you were friends with Mum… or something like that?”

Snape buried his face in his hands, massaging his temple with his thumbs. “No. I came as an incredibly unfortunate result of circumstance.”

She flinched — Snape didn’t seem to notice. He looked like he wanted to disappear into the floorboards. It made Ariel feel terrible and angry, an insatiable need to ask and know more roaring away inside her, but stifled by her guilt. There was no reason for her to feel bad, but she supposed Snape looking so… defeated was only because of her questions.

“I meant it before, you know.” Ariel said, placing the carving knife on his desk. Her hands stung from gripping it so tightly. “I really didn’t see anything. I was just reading her letter.”

He gave her a tired, weary glare, pinching the bridge of his nose. She could tell that he’d convinced him of enough to cross her off his thief-list, but she also couldn’t blame him for being skeptical. Ariel had, after all, mowed him down in the middle of a corridor. The need to know something, however, seemed to be far less important than the idea of talking about her mum.

“Do you know anything about making words disappear?” Ariel asked in a small voice.

Snape blinked, his eyebrows furrowing. “Excuse me?”

“Like… off of a page?”

His lip curled. “Why? What did you do?”

“Nothing.” she sat down in the chair across from him. Snape gave her a look like she’d sprouted a second head. “This morning, I was sitting with Ron and Hermione and… the letter… it erased itself. I really didn’t do anything, why do you think I’m always doing something wrong?”

He responded with another cold, direct reply, like he was aiming his words at her forehead. “Because it’s in your nature.”

It was Ariel’s turn to give him a baffled look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He waved her off. “Some letters will fade away once they deem that the person it was intended for has satisfied its requirements.”

“Like what?”

Snape sighed, a short, frustrated sound. “There is oftentimes an emotional attachment left within this category of Charms. Professor Flitwick would be able to help you.”

Ariel bit her lip. “You seem to know what you’re talking about.”

There was a long pause. Snape had leaned forward again, his chin resting on a closed fist. His eyebrows were knitted together in an expression of both deep annoyance and calculating certainty. She could see his eyes boring into hers, trying to figure her out. Ariel had the feeling that Snape wasn’t taken off guard very often, and she wasn’t exactly trying to be open with him. Hermione was right, she couldn’t tell him the truth until she knew more, but she also had to give him something.

She wanted to ask more about her mum. It was an itch in her bones, in her teeth. She wondered if her eyes were familiar at all to him, or if he even saw her at all. Snape had a way of looking at you, like you weren’t really there, like you didn’t matter one bit.

“We’re done here.” Snape said coldly. “Return to your dormitory, Miss Evans.”

“What?” Ariel shot out of the chair. “But I’m not finished with the —”

“I said,” his voice was deadly, even though it was barely above a whisper. “we’re done.”

She felt like crying, the condemning glare too much to handle when she was so close. Why didn’t he want to help her? If he’d known her mum and had been her friend, why was he acting like he wanted nothing to do with it? What kind of friend was he?

They hadn’t been just friends, though… there was something more…

Why don’t you know? Ariel wanted to shout, wanted to throw the rest of the poor-dead toads at him. Why did you want to forget?

Instead, Ariel peeled off her gloves, and shoved them onto his desk. Snape watched her with a bored, guarded sort of look that made her want to punch him, like Malfoy. She pivoted on her heel, without a word, and headed for the door.

“Miss Evans,” Snape called from his desk.

Ariel turned around, her heart giving an excited start.

“If I find out you’ve gone anywhere near that third floor corridor again,” his voice was like a riptide, pulling mercilessly, making itself known, threatening to drag her somewhere deep and dark and untouchable. “I will make you regret it.”

She did not nod, or say yes, sir, or even turn away. Ariel swallowed the lump that had formed in the throat, and thought about her mum’s lost letter.

don’t give a damn what anyone thinks

“She mentioned you.” said Ariel. “I thought you’d want to know.”

In the meantime, she was just going to have to land herself another detention.

To be continued...
End Notes:
A/N: I apologize for the delay in an update. As some of you know, I'm a teacher, and the end of this school year was nothing short of chaos. I hope to be back to more regular updates for the remainder of the summer!

If you'd like more info/updates, my Tumblr is also my penname.

Reviews are really, super appreciated. Stay safe out there, everyone! x
Chapter 6: axe to grind by shostakobitch

Severus waited until the girl had left to start throwing things.

He broke the lamp on his desk, a potted plant Dumbledore had given him three Christmas’ ago, and an entire row of potions ingredients. He’d cut his hand on something in the process, but he didn’t care. Severus barely felt it. All that mattered was the hammering of Lily-things’ words in his ears, the echo they’d cast in his classroom, and the darkest, most secret place in his tattered heart. Severus couldn’t begin to fathom how’d they gotten to this point, where this most precious thing, his sole motivation for everything he did for the past decade, was suddenly a newfound knowledge to Lily’s daughter.

Stupid stupid STUPID GIRL how did she know what did she KNOW SHE KNEW SOMETHING —

There was another loud CRACK as Severus tossed the carving knife the girl had used to gut the toads at the wall. It ricocheted off, leaving a mark on the stone. He could see blood on the handle from where he’d cut his hand. It ran down his arm, splattering to the floor as Severus threw his arm out again, clearing the contents of his desk in one swoop. That little brat, this… thing that looked and talked like Lily, but not-Lily, with her damn questions and longing for something Severus could not — would not — give her.

Why did it have to be him? Why had Lily-thing come to him, of all the fucking people? Was this really only because she’d overheard him shouting at Dumbledore about Petunia?

No. It wasn’t.

Lily’s letter.

Of course she’d left something for the girl. Lily would have made sure that Lily-thing knew she was loved and cherished, especially if Lily thought there was even a chance she wouldn’t be there to tell the girl herself. What the sodding fuck did Severus have to do with it? There was no comprehensible reason Lily should have said anything about him, especially to her and Potter’s child. Lily had hated him, resented him, been disgusted with him. Lily had wanted nothing to do with Severus, and rightfully so. Severus had screwed that up royally, and even then, Lily was smart. She would’ve known he’d joined the Death Eaters, and if the Dark Lord had been after her baby…

Severus sat with his face in his hands. He hadn’t spoken to Lily after that day in fifth year, when she’d gone back through the Portrait Door and left him sitting there in self-loathing and despair. There had only been looks from there on out, terrible, awful looks that bordered on hatred, but with an edge of sadness that he couldn’t place. Was it regret that Lily had ever known him, or that he still existed?

Severus had never been able to figure it out, but he’d avoided her like the plague, especially once she’d started dating Potter. The only other time after that had been during one of the few battles against the Order Severus had actively taken part in, months after they’d graduated from Hogwarts. He’d seen Lily there, battling with Bellatrix, when Lily had gone flying back, Bellatrix’s wand raised to deliver a final blow, and something inside of Severus he thought long dead took control of him like he was a man possessed. Lily hadn’t recognized him, though, when he’d saved her… he’d been wearing the mask… and Dumbledore wouldn’t have told Lily and Potter, no…

What the sodding fuck could Lily have POSSIBLY —

He should have known there would be some sort of reckoning, a return, even though Lily was gone. It was inevitable that it would lead her daughter there, to this… this blood trail. And it was a blood trail, because Severus had murdered Ariel Evans’ parents. Severus was going to find out — no.

NO —

He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to touch whatever this… thing was with a ten foot fucking pole. Love was a terrible, terrible thing. You wore your heart outside of your body with no skin, no bones, nothing to protect it. He wouldn’t entertain this… curiosity the girl had. It wasn’t his responsibility. Severus had pledged his life to the girl, to this Lily-thing that was the last of her, but he would not pander to whatever childish fantasies she held close to that incomprehensible little heart of hers. Merlin only knew…

But then again, it was the things one could not see coming that were strong enough to kill them. Severus was terrified of what Lily-thing knew now, of what she still wasn’t telling him. He was going to make that girl pay, Severus decided, a dark thought moving through his thoughts, like a shadow. He’d make her regret ever seeking him out, for telling him about her mother’s damn letter.

(how could he go on, without knowing what Lily had said, there was no reason for her to be saying ANYTHING)

Severus flung another jar at the wall, his irritation growing when he did not feel any satisfaction at the glass shards littering the stone floor. He couldn’t destroy his classroom, but he couldn’t simply leave this alone now, either. Lily-thing had gone back up to her blasted Tower, probably feeling smug and important.

He could destroy this… need to talk to him, the curiosity.

Curiosity killed the cat

Until Severus figured out what that little shit did and did not know…

Dumbledore had asked him to keep an eye on Quirrell, hadn’t he?

———

The next morning, Ariel awoke feeling as if she hadn’t gotten an ounce of sleep. Her dreams had been plagued with poor dead-toads and Snape’s sneering face glaring down at her, telling her to hurry up, that he had to go and check on the Stone, but the bucket was endless, and the more toads she gutted, the angrier dream-Snape became.

“I’m not your father,” he’d kept saying to her. “Don’t get it twisted.”

She rubbed the grit out of her eyes, meeting Hermione’s as they both slid out of bed, looking equally exhausted. It was almost midnight by the time Ariel had returned from Snape’s detention. Ron and Hermione had waited up for her, but they'd dozed off a couple of times, they’d sheepishly admitted. Ariel didn’t blame them. Once the adrenaline had worn off, she had felt completely knackered herself.

They’d managed to stay awake long enough for Ariel to tell them what had happened, about the Stone, and Snape’s weird not-really-answers to very direct questions. Ron had told her to burn the letter and be done with it (Snape’s a git, Ariel, you’re better off) while Hermione had endorsed Snape’s advice to go and talk to Professor Flitwick about how to undo her mother’s protection charm on the letter. Ariel had nearly forgotten to tell them about the Stone, which only added to the collective confusion between all three of them. While Ariel felt good about knowing that Snape had in fact known and been friends with her mum, this whole Stone business with Fluffy and the forbidden third floor corridor was an added layer Ariel didn’t know how to categorize just yet.

Why was Snape so adamant about her staying away (besides Fluffy?). Why was the Stone being kept at Hogwarts, and who the heck was trying to steal it?

Ariel filed those questions away for later. There were more pressing matters to attend to, anyway.

(Like landing herself another detention with Snape)

“How’re you feeling?” Hermione asked as Ariel bent down to pull on her shoes — she’d put them on the wrong feet the first time.

She didn’t know how to answer that. Ariel felt… better, but not really. She wanted to talk to Snape again, but she was afraid that he might’ve snapped after she’d left. Ariel had spent the whole trip back to Gryffindor Tower looking over her shoulder, afraid (hoping hoping hoping) that Snape would be charging after her. He hadn’t, though.

“Okay,” Ariel shrugged, grabbing her rucksack. “I’m going to go and talk to Professor Flitwick after class today, to see if he can help.”

Hermione beamed, like Ariel had told her she had decided to read next years’ assigned readings. “That’s a brilliant idea. What are you going to tell him?”

“Nothing specific.” she wasn’t going to tell anyone anything. All she needed was another professor telling Snape the truth — something told her that wouldn’t go over very well. Truthfully, Ariel had gone back and forth over telling Professor Dumbledore, but something held her back. She felt guilty over taking the letter without telling him first. He’d been so kind, returning her mum’s trunk to her after saving her from the Dursleys. Dumbledore was brilliant, and could probably help but… Ariel wasn’t important enough. Surely overseeing a magic castle took up most of his time — she didn’t want to bother him.

Hermione gave a quick nod. “I agree. If anyone will be able to help, it’ll be him.”

“I sure hope so.” Ariel’s heart ache with longing to have her mum’s words back. She wanted the lopsided t’s and the l’s Mum only wrote in cursive.

“It’ll be okay.” Hermione reassured her. “We can look into this Stone, in the meantime. Want to meet in the library after lunch? We can all go together and see if we can find anything.”

The Stone — as much as it had made her brain hurt last night — was a welcome distraction from Snape. The idea of reading through more books, however, made her eyes burn at the very thought. They had to start somewhere, though, especially if Snape was suspicious of them. “Yes, but —”

Ariel was about to tell Hermione that she had no idea what this magic Stone did (Ariel figured there were various types, since magic Stones seemed like something that would be in abundance) when Lavender, Parvati, and Fay walked in from the bathrooms. Ariel told Hermione with her eyes that they’d discuss this once they were alone, and Hermione nodded in acknowledgment. The other girls didn’t even look in Ariel’s direction. Lavender was still furious with Ariel for taking down the collage they’d spent so much time putting together. Ariel had a stinking suspicion that her dad (not dad, not James) wasn’t on display for Lavender and Parvati to fawn over anymore.

She quickly pulled on her robes, pulling her red curls back into a ponytail as Hermione prepared for battle with her own. Usually she had Ariel try and brush it out in the morning, but they were already late for breakfast. Ariel’s hair had grown out enough that she was finally able to tie it back. It was constantly falling in her face, especially while she was working, and it drove her bonkers.

On the other side of the room, Lavender and Parvati were trading bracelets, like they did every day, even though they always ended up choosing the same ones. They were always generous when it came to loaning Ariel things, but she had a strange feeling they were trying to fix something that Ariel didn’t think was broken. They had been dumbfounded when she’d told them she didn’t have pierced ears. Ariel had tried to do it herself once, just to get back at Aunt Petunia for ripping up the artwork that had been on display at Meet-the-Teacher night. She’d stolen her pearls and attempted to do it in the bathroom during Dudley’s birthday party, but one of the mothers had come upstairs and nearly fainted at the sight of blood in the sink. It hadn’t even been that much, but Aunt Petunia had let her have it later, after assuring all the other horrified parents that Ariel was “mentally disturbed, but harmless.”

That last part described Snape to a tee. Maybe that's where she got it from. He was mental, but if Snape was as awful as everyone thought he was, he would’ve made her scorch mark on the wall after that detention. He hadn’t, though, something had held him back.

Something that had to do with her mum.

Something like that

Ariel and Hermione met Ron downstairs in the Common Room, right in front of the couch Ariel had left them last night, before bed. He looked as tired as they did, but also anxious. Ron had been pacing the length of the rug when he’d caught sight of them.

“Hey,” Ron greeted them with a tight smile. “Any luck?”

He was referring to the notebooks. Ariel and Hermione had told Ron they were going to try and search a little while longer after Ron had turned in for the night, but the exhaustion of the day had been too much to keep going.

“Nothing,” Hermione shook her head. “We didn’t try much longer after you left. We were exhausted.”

“It’s no use, anyway.” Ariel said with a sigh. “I don’t think Mum would’ve written it down anywhere someone else could find it.”

“So what’s next?” Ron asked.

“I’m going to talk to Professor Flitwick about it.” said Ariel, slipping the letter out from her rucksack. She’d tucked it inside her Charms textbook for now. She was secretly afraid that the letter would return to normal while she was gone.

“Don’t bring it with you!” Ron whispered loudly. “Are you mad?”

“Well I can’t leave it here!” Ariel shot back. “What if someone finds it?”

“Like who?”

“I don’t want to take any chances.” she gave him A Look. “Besides, I have to show it to Flitwick if he’s going to be able to help at all. Maybe he’ll know how to break the protection charm.”

Ron made another disagreeing sound. All three of them looked to his stomach when it voiced it’s opinion, much louder than Ron’s.

“Let’s go,” Hermione said, taking Ariel’s hand. “I’m starving too.”

Ariel slipped her mum’s letter back into the textbook, following Hermione’s lead out of the Portrait. The Fat Lady was singing this morning, a lot louder than usual. They had to cram their hands over their ears as they passed through. Even once they got to the bottom of the stairs, they could still hear her trying to serenade whoever was unfortunate enough to pass. A group of Ravenclaws stopped to listen, giving each other questioning looks as Ariel, Hermione, and Ron moved past them.

Sunlight poured into the Great Hall, its rays like threads, weaving their way high above their heads. Outside, she could see flecks of something that looked like snow whizzing past. It was only November first, but it had been so chilly, especially up here in the highlands of Scotland. Ariel hadn’t liked snow much, especially when she’d been living at the Dursleys. They’d never allow her to go play in it, which meant snow days and nights were spent entertaining herself, alone in her cupboard.

Ariel barely tasted the toast she’d taken from the center of the table, although Hermione had pointed out that she was eating it with nothing smothered on it. Usually she opted for raspberry jam, but she really wasn’t hungry. Ariel exhaled through her nose, and courageously glanced up at the High Table, expecting to be smited instantly.

Snape was not there.

This gave Ariel a nasty shock. Snape was always there. She knew this because she usually waved to Hagrid every morning, and sometimes, Snape was right next to him. Ariel made sure not to do it if that was the case, because after the Sorting, when she’d almost waved at him, and he’d thrown daggers as sharp as glass at her, Ariel had learned that Snape wanted nothing to do with her.

This made her feel incredibly small as she smashed her eggs with a spoon.

She had Charms and Potions today. That meant she was going to have to see Snape after what she’d said to him last night. The only plus about this was that she’d be able to get that detention sooner rather than later. Ariel had to figure out what had happened between Snape and her mum, because, somehow, only through mental gymnastics, Ariel knew that it had somehow resulted in her being born.

“Air-ree-ella!” Fred sang as he sat down beside her. “How’re you doing, ol’ sport? We heard from Ronniekins that you landed yourself in detention with Snape last night!”

Ariel wanted to smash her face against the plate. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Popped that cherry, didn’t ya?” George grinned. “Congrats. There should be a prize once you get the first one over with. A consolation.”

Angelina Johnson gave him a horrible look from a few seats down, one that told him to shut up. The twins didn’t seem to notice.

“What’d he have you do?” Fred asked, trying to balance a fork on his finger. Hermione gasped as he turned, pretending to jab George with it, like he was a pirate wielding a sword. “Anything particularly unpleasant?”

“Gutting toads.” Ariel said tonelessly. Her hands still smelt like their insides, even after scrubbing at her hands both last night and this morning. Ariel tried to imagine the twins finding out Snape was her dad. They’d be relentless, not to mention that they’d probably never look at her the same.

“Yuck,” George made a face. “He made us scrape off… what was it, Fred? Flobberworms?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Fred made a gagging sound that caused a group of Hufflepuffs to turn around to see what was happening. “Toads guts are definitely worse, though.”

“Yes, thank you.” Hermione said, shooing them away. “It was awful enough without you two making her relive it.”

Ron ate the eggs and scone Ariel still hadn’t touched, which made her feel awfully silly. She remembered days at the Dursleys when she would’ve killed for a meal, and now, passing up food felt like a sin. Ariel had never been the type to eat if she wasn’t hungry, though. Weirdly enough, while she was dreading seeing Snape later on today she was also… excited. Ariel suspected it wouldn’t take much to get him to assign her another detention, but Hermione and Ron were going to think she’d gone absolutely barmy. Her stomach was too anxious to eat — it felt like a swarm of pixies were playing dodgems. Neville joined them at some point, already a nervous wreck about Potions later on today. Ron had told Ariel and Hermione he had nightmares about Snape. That was something they had in common, Ariel thought to herself, while Hermione reassured Neville that she’d help him as best she could today.

“Well well, if it isn’t Evans.” said The Worst Voice in the History of the Entire Universe. “It’s a shame she didn’t get clobbered by that mountain troll, but she sure does look like one today, doesn’t she?”

Ariel was going to stick her fork in Malfoy’s neck, she’d decided, when Ron nearly flung himself over the table to get at Malfoy. Luckily, Fred and George hadn’t gone far, and pulled him back before a professor could see. She didn’t have the patience to deal with him today. Most times, Ariel ignored him, and that seemed to do the trick. Malfoy was a lot like Dudley in the sense that if you didn’t acknowledge them, they were relatively harmless. The difference was that Dudley was pretty stupid, and had the attention span of an acorn, while Malfoy brooded and found ways to exact revenge that would make Ariel have to fight back.

She rounded on him, swinging her legs around the bench without standing. “Go away, Malfoy. Shouldn’t you be patrolling for more people to snitch on?”

Malfoy’s hair was perfectly gelled back, as usual, and he wore a sneer that seemed to be painted permanently on his smug, pointed face. Ron liked to call him a gremlin, which was very funny to Ariel and Hermione. Pansy Parkinson was on his left, Millicent Bulstrode next to her. If Malfoy wasn’t bothering her, it was probably because the Slytherin girls were. Pansy loved to talk (very loudly) about how ugly Ariel’s hair was, how she looked like a boy, and her height. If Malfoy wasn’t calling her Red Cap, Pansy had taken to calling her Bug. Ariel wouldn’t lower herself to name calling, but Pansy looked like a pug, and Millicent resembled a pitbull-bulldozer hybrid. Crabbe and Goyle were still eating, and Ariel secretly wished they were flanking Malfoy instead of the Slytherin girls. Crabbe and Goyle only offered supportive laughs when it came to Malfoy harrassing Gryffindors. Pansy actively took part in it.

Malfoy gave Ariel a satisfied smirk. “Enjoy your detention, then?”

“You know you set us up.” Ariel said coolly. “Telling Snape we out past curfew was real low.”

“Bested you, do you mean?” Malfoy’s grin widened. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Red Cap.”

“She could use a cap, Draco.” Pansy snickered. “Someone needs to cover that mess on her head.”

Ariel wanted to knock their pearly white teeth out, but restrained herself. “Somebody needs to cover your mouth. Nobody likes a tattletale.”

“Piss off, Malfoy.” Ron shot from the other side of the table. “You know Ariel would’ve knocked your arse flat.”

“I don’t think so,” Malfoy sneered. “you can barely fly a broom, what makes you think you could best me in a duel? I did you a favor, really. Everyone knows Gryffindors are all show, anyway.”

“At least I showed up.” Ariel stood up — she was half a foot shorter than him, but Malfoy didn’t scare her. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Everyone knows Slytherins are cowards, anyway.”

Pansy opened her mouth, probably to say something about the color of Ariel’s hair, or how her freckles were probably acne scars, when the whole group turned to see Professor McGonagall heading towards them, her mouth set in a firm line. The Slytherins scattered like cockroaches when exposed to light. Ariel sat back down at the table, turning back to the scone she’d turned to a pile of crumbs when Professor McGonagall passed, the breeze noticeably chillier.

Ariel filed those insults away, for later.

———

After a Charms class that was blessedly free of Slytherins, Ariel stayed behind to speak to Professor Flitwick. Today had only been a lecture, which had made it very difficult to stay focused in class with everything on her mind. Instead of listening to Professor Flitwick drabble on and on about… what Charm had it been again? Well, it didn’t matter, Hermione would be more than happy to tell Ariel all about it later on. Hermione spent the class with her nose to the parchment, taking down notes word for word. It had gotten to a point where Hermione’s writing had drowned out Professor Flitwick, even. The only sound Ariel heard was the scratchscratchscratch of her quill, and so, she’d decided to do some writing of her own.

Ariel strained her memory of the original letter, trying to write it down, to recreate it. She now realized the irony in criticizing how short it was, when she herself could not even recall the opening line. Ariel certainly knew what was inside it, but she couldn’t begin to try and dictate word for word what Mum had said exactly. She felt stupid and silly, the only thought in her mind playing like a record on repeat: what if Snape asks what if Snape asks what if Snape asks…

She didn’t know what’d she say to him. Snape knowing her mum didn’t necessarily mean he was definitely her dad, but at the same time, wasn’t it silly to question the letter at this point? Mum had written it, and Snape had known her, been friends with her. The thought made her brain feel fuzzy, trying to picture the two of them having an actual conversation. Even if Snape was her dad, it didn’t take away the fact that he was horrible. He bullied the Gryffindors and made Neville cry. He had accused Ariel of trying to steal that secret Stone and had insulted her. Imagining Snape being anything… more than Mum’s friend was like putting her head in a vise. Mum had been beautiful, kind, brave. Snape was… none of those things, except maybe the latter. She couldn’t say that one for herself just yet.

If Snape had been friends with Mum though… why did he ignore Ariel so much? The only times he’d ever spoken to Ariel were when he’d saved her from the Dursleys, and when the troll had cornered them. That was it. Ariel tried hard to think about what those two things had in common, but she couldn’t…

Maybe Mum had Obliviated all of their memories? No — that couldn’t be true, Snape had said he’d known Mum. But if he remembered… none of this made sense. Ariel couldn’t even begin to put the two of them into a romantic relationship. Adults were so bloody weird, Snape being the weirdest of them all.

It was the shuffling of footsteps and chairs scraping against the floor that brought Ariel back to the present, where she found Professor Flitwick dismissing the class. Ariel hadn’t written down a single thing on Charms today, just some chicken scratch that wasn’t even legible to her when reading it over. She scowled down at the parchment, smashing it into a ball before tossing it into the nearest rubbish bin. Hermione looked at her in horror, but Ariel just shook her head.

“You go on ahead,” Ariel said. “I’ll meet you at lunch.”

“You don’t want us to stay?” Hermione asked nervously, shooting a glance at Ron, who was already halfway out the door. He’d started doodling pictures of sandwiches about halfway through, and then, a very unflattering picture of Filch.

“No, I’ll be quick.” Ariel promised. “Five minutes, tops. We’re still going to the library, right? Before Potions?”

Hermione gave her a reluctant nod. “I don’t mind staying.”

“I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

A look of understanding crossed over her face. “Good idea. I’ll save you a seat, yeah?”

Ariel smiled, turning her attention towards the front of the room, where Professor Flitwick was shuffling behind his desk. She loved the Charms classroom — it was so bright and airy. Ariel especially loved when they did demonstrations. When they’d done Levitation spells, Ariel had looked around the room at all the floating feathers in awe, wondering how she’d been so lucky to have gotten here, to that moment.

“Do you have a moment, Professor?” Ariel asked, shifting her textbooks to one side. “I’d like to talk to you about something.”

Professor Flitwick looked up from his desk, shuffling his gradebook to the corner of his desk. It was very neat, Ariel noted, very different from Snape’s. His was full of so much clutter it was a wonder he could still sit and write at it. “Of course, my dear, but do make it fast. I have a meeting with the Headmaster in a few minutes.”

Her heart gave a funny little jump at the mention of Professor Dumbledore. Ariel wanted so badly to talk to him again. “Of course. It’s just a Protection Charm I’m trying to break. It’s been giving me a little bit of trouble.”

He stopped what he was doing to give her a half amused, half stern look. “Something accidental that belongs to you, I hope.”

“Oh, yes, of course, sir.” Ariel said, feeling stupid. “It’s been put on a letter from my mum that she wrote to me. When I first opened it, it read just fine, but yesterday it… it all disappeared, except for some riddle she left. Hermione thought I should talk to you about it.”

“Smart girl,” Professor Flitwick chuckled. “but a letter from your mother, you say?”

Ariel nodded, her hands shaking as she reached into her rucksack, slipping the letter out to show him.

“Your mother was one of the brightest witches I’ve ever taught.” Fliwick said, smiling warmly down at the parchment, like it was a picture of Lily waving up at him. “She wanted to be a Healer, you know. She certainly had a knack for Charms and Curse-breaking. Such a quick wit, that girl. She had an answer for everything.”

Normally, Ariel would have been leaping down his throat to hear more, but it made her uncomfortable, given the current situation. “Professor McGonagall said she was Head Girl.”

“That she was.” his eyes sparkled at the memory, like he’d gone back there to see it for himself. “But I digress. Let me take a look, Miss Evans.”

Professor Flitwick bent over, steading himself on the tabletop (which was very high off the ground in comparison to his height) and squinted. He hm’d several times as Ariel nails dug into her palms, trying to keep herself from losing her patience. After a moment, Professor Flitwick unsheathed his wand, murmuring spells Ariel couldn’t make out. Bolts of green and yellow and purple hung above the letter, twinkling and shimmering like sleigh bells. They pulsed as a heartbeat does.

Where do we go when we walk on light? Ariel didn’t even know where to begin with it.

“This type of spell is tailored to the person the letter is intended for.” Professor Flitwick lectured, tracing his wand over the parchment, the tip lighting up a sky blue. “That would be you, Miss Evans. Upon opening it, the spell… how can I put this? It reads you, in a way, much like how you read it. There’s a connection formed there, and the spell is attuned to what you need.”

Ariel blinked in confusion. “So it’s… alive?”

“No, no… hm, yes, this is tricky.” the lines of Professor Flitwick’s mouth drooped, but his eyes were excited. “Your mother wrote this letter to you, yes? There are traces of her magic here, of the emotional bond she had with you when she was still alive. That type of relationship does not fade, the magic built into it, even though she is no longer with us. Once you opened the letter and read it, the ‘letter,’ which was really your mother’s Charm handiwork, was able to see what you needed emotionally, once you concluded reading. It seemed that although you had read it and understood the contents, it no longer felt the need to be manifested physically. For example, did you happen to share this letter with anyone? Miss Granger and Mr Weasley, perhaps?”

Ariel nodded.

“Ah well, that is why it did not initially fade. It knew you would need to show it to Miss Granger and Mr Weasley, knew you trusted them and needed to share its contents with them. It knew you would need support.” Professor Flitwick looked like a kid on Christmas morning. “Fascinating stuff, really.”

Ariel’s head spun. “So you’re saying that the letter — er — Mum put this Charm on it so that the letter would know what I needed to… understand it?”

“Exactly.” Professor Flitwick beamed.

“So then… how do I solve the riddle?” Ariel asked.

“This type of Charm can only be broken by speaking the response aloud to it.” Professor Flitwick smiled sadly, clicking his tongue in disappointment. “I wish I could be of more help, my dear, but your mother did a number on this one. There was nothing in the original that hinted at what it could be?”

“Nothing,” Ariel muttered, her disappointment insurmountable. “I’ve been trying but…”

“I must ask, Miss Evans,” Professor Flitwick looked at her seriously, as if he was about to ask her if she’d done something wrong. “was there something… important that your mother wrote to you? Such spells are oftentimes meant to conceal information that could be harmful to others.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “No Professor, it was just… personal.”

His face softened. “I see. Well, if you find any clues, do let me know. I’d be happy to insist in any way I can. My only regret is that I couldn’t help more…”

“It’s okay,” Ariel managed a wobbly smile. “Thank you for your help anyway, Professor. It did explain a lot.”

“It was my pleasure, my dear girl.”

Ariel trudged away dejectedly. What was she supposed to do now?

———

Severus was thinking about slipping some firewhiskey into his second cup of coffee for the day when Minerva walked into the staff room, which was otherwise blissfully empty.

Sprout was fretting over a new crop of Shrivelfig that had begun to take earlier that week, the others undoubtedly moseying around the castle, taking their sweet time to make their way here. Severus wasn’t complaining, an empty staff room meant he wouldn’t have to entertain mundane conversations. He’d secretly been hoping that Quirrell would appear before anyone else, but that was wishful thinking, and Minerva, being Minerva, had of course, found him. She’d been sending him notes all morning, which Severus had gladly ignored.

Severus had a feeling Quirrell would be avoiding the staff room (and Severus) for a very long time. Last nights’ encounter hadn’t done anything to curb Severus’ wrath, but it had aided him in channeling at least some of it. If that bumbling idiot had anything to do with whoever was trying to steal the fucking Stone, Severus was a Hufflepuff. Quirrell had cowered and stuttered his way through excuses, but deep down, as much as Severus loathed to admit it, if Dumbledore was suspicious, Quirrell probably wasn’t as innocent as he was portraying himself to be.

“Good afternoon, Severus,” Minerva said stiffly as she sat down across from him. Severus could automatically tell that she was here to speak with him about something specific, probably on a subject that Severus would loathe discussing — like Granger. Or perhaps Minerva was still upset by the troll incident. In that case he was (almost) glad at least one other member of the staff had any sort of sense. He was, however, disappointed that Minerva didn’t have enough sense to leave him alone. “I didn’t see you at breakfast this morning. Are you feeling alright?”

Severus grunted in response, not bothering to look up from his mug.

Minerva raised an eyebrow. “A verbal response would suffice, Severus.”

He would certainly not tell her that he’d harassed a fellow staff member in the middle of the night, and he would most certainly not tell her that he’d sat at his desk until dawn pondering what the sodding fuck Lily could have possibly written to her daughter that had anything to do with him. The thought was burrowing deeper and deeper into Severus’ psyche, an itch he needed to scratch, one that not even his Occlumency could keep out. Lily had that prophetic affect on him. No matter how hard Severus tried, and he tried, (oh how he tried) he could not rid himself of thinking of her on the daily since Severus had found Lily-thing in that blasted closet.

Dumbledore would have told Severus it was his greatest strength. It felt like failure, because Severus had done so to her, to her child, time and time again.

“I’m fine.” he said shortly. “I had papers to grade.”

“You mean desecrate.” Minerva gave him a thin smile.

“They get what they deserve.” Severus snipped back. “If even half of the little dimwits put any sort of thought into the assignments, I —” still wouldn’t give them high marks. “— would certainly consider giving them grades that reflect it.”

“It’s usually not until late February that you’re this… ornery.”

Severus had the girl after lunch. He planned on making it a particularly unpleasant class for the Gryffindors. If Granger so much as looked in his direction, Severus was going to dock them fifty points. He couldn’t take Lily-thing’s dark eyes watching his every move, like she had last night. Those eyes weren’t Potter’s, no, and for that Severus was grateful. He didn’t know if he could handle seeing a little amalgam of Potter and Lily that manifested in the form of their spawn. She was the last of Lily, and Severus had sworn to protect her, yes, but that didn’t mean he was going to put up with this nonsense that felt a lot like blackmail.

“Miss Granger has the innate ability to cause migraines.” Severus said, taking another sip of his coffee, wishing more than ever that it was spiked. “Longbottom is useless. The boy can barely hold a ladle.”

“That would fix itself if you stopped scaring the poor boy out of his wits.” her face darkened. “The students tell me you terrorize him.”

“The students are hardly reliable.” They were, Severus had zero patience for the boy. If he didn’t learn how to get his fear under control — it truly was a marvel the brat was in Gryffindor — then he’d end up hurting himself, or someone else, and it was not going to happen in Severus’ classroom. That was far too much paperwork.

“Speaking of Miss Granger,” Minerva said, and Severus suddenly felt like a mouse that had been cornered by a feline. “I wanted to inquire about Miss Evans’ detention last night. How did you fare with her?”

Of course she did. Everything lately was becoming about Miss Evans. Severus had experienced enough of Lily-thing in the last forty-eight hours to last ten lifetimes.

Severus set the mug down, his knuckles cracking around the handle. “She’s meddlesome.”

Minerva raised an eyebrow at him. “Come now, Severus. I still don’t understand why you found it necessary to give the girl detention for something completely out of her control.”

Ah — that was what this was about. Normally, Minerva would give Severus the cold shoulder if she thought Severus was being unfair (which he usually was), but this was, after all, Lily-thing they were talking about. Minerva would never admit it, but she had a soft spot for the child.

Because they died

You said Aunt Petunia hated Mum because Mum had magic

“The girl needed to be taught a lesson.” Severus said stiffly. “She was not forthcoming with her true whereabouts.”

Minerva sighed, drumming her hands on the tabletop. “Severus, not everything is —”

The door opened, and Severus’ eyes flickered to the doorway as Dumbledore entered with Flitwick. The old man’s robes were an offending neon yellow today, gold tassels embroidered on the inside. A pegasus was stitched onto both arms. It hurt Severus’ eyes to look at him. The mere fact that Dumbledore wore robes like that was offensive on every level imaginable.

“… letter is quite advanced.” Flitwick was saying. “Ariel was quite adamant about keeping it to herself, but I found it rather peculiar —”

Severus sat up like his spine had been electrocuted. He whirled around in his seat, his heart slamming against his ribs. Dumbledore was bent over, hands clasped behind his back, listening intently as Flitwick waddled forward, seating himself on the sofa beside the fireplace. The fire popped and crackled heartily, casting their shadows along the walls behind them. Minerva was still speaking, rambling on about Lily-thing’s detention, but she sounded like she was underwater.

“Did Ariel mention what it said?” Dumbledore asked, his bushy eyebrows knitted together in deep thought.

“No, only that it was personal. I did ask, Headmaster, but Miss Evans seemed very aloof about the whole thing, and very disappointed when I told her there wasn’t anything I could do.” Flitwick sighed, waving his hands as a teacup settled itself on the table in front of the, the spoon stirring in sugar cubes. “The poor girl, I can only imagine losing something like that, something precious that's just within reach…”

The old man nodded, a sad look painted on his face. “Were you able to give her any guidance, Filius?”

Flitwick shook his head. “Unfortunately not, the protection charm Lily placed on the letter can only be broken by speaking the correct response out loud. The peculiar thing is — and I didn’t tell Miss Evans this, she was already quite upset — that it doesn’t appear to be directed to her at all. It seems like it needs to be spoken aloud by someone else, which doesn’t make any sense to me, Albus. The girl had no clue what the countercharm could be. The letter is ingrained with magic all tied to her, but the protection charm is not… very odd indeed. Perhaps Lily meant it for James?”

Severus' chest clenched painfully. He shoved the thought, the cold slap of reality, of his greatest fear come to pass, away from him. What the hell was the girl doing? What was in the damn letter Lily-thing was so desperate to restore?

Severus heard Minerva sigh in exasperation as she got up to leave.

… if Severus was mentioned in this letter, why WAS SHE SHOWING IT TO —

Before Severus’ head popped off his shoulders, Dumbledore looked straight at him, catching him in the act. Eavesdropping was nothing Severus was below, but he was usually much better at it, and this happened to be the worst possible thing Dumbledore could have caught him doing; listening to a conversation about Lily-thing.

Instead of inviting Severus to join the conversation, though Dumbledore’s eyes lit up, twinkling like fairy lights, the ice blue of his eyes aglow from the firelight. Severus could feel it then, an unspoken string of words between them, unraveling like yarn as Flitwick prattled on and on about Charmwork.

Dumbledore… knew something about this.

Severus’ eyes narrowed dangerously as Dumbledore gave him a merry smile.

Just like the smile Lily-thing had given him on Halloween.

———

Ariel was still feeling down after her conversation with Professor Flitwick. When she’d sat down to lunch, she’d simply shaken her head at Hermione and Ron. They’d responded with shoving a plate of food at her, and telling her that Fred and George were planning something with dungbombs later that day. Ariel appreciated her trying to distract her before they went to the library, but her heart was so heavy she was surprised it was still working.

Snape had not been at lunch, either.

Ariel, Ron, and Hermione made it just in time for potions, and luckily, were able to avoid to queue outside that contained Slytherins. Malfoy had reserved that time to goad Ron, while Pansy made fun of Hermione’s front teeth and Ariel’s boy-hair. Ariel was always pretty proud of herself for not socking them and giving them big fat lips, but she knew those Slytherins would take a bruise if it meant landing Ariel in detention.

You could’ve used that today, said a small voice in her brain. Two birds, one stone.

She really, really hated them. Almost as much as the Dursleys, but they held a special place that not even Malfoy could touch. Ariel still wished she could’ve seen their faces when they’d returned home from their stupid, fancy dinner.

Unfortunately, the trio were the last ones in the room, which meant they earned themselves a round of snickers from Slytherins, and a horrible, warning glare from Snape. They’d barely made it in time, but it had been worth it. Hermione had found something about a Stone… a Stone that granted one immortality. Ariel couldn’t wrap her head around someone living forever like that, or how someone had invented an object so powerful that it kept you from dying. It sounded too good to be true, but then again, Ariel lived in a magic castle with ghosts and three-headed dogs and giant squids. Hermione was just as excited, though, while Ron had looked incredibly uneasy at the prospect of the Philosopher’s Stone being held here.

“Of all the classes to risk being late to,” Ron hissed as they hurried inside. “why did it have to be this one?”

Normally, Ariel sat with Neville during class to keep him from having a heart attack. She’d done this after the first Potions class, when Neville had been a shaking mess, barely able to squeak out a coherent sentence. Malfoy had laughed so hard that Ariel thought he’d break a rib (she really wished he had), and so Ariel had sat with Neville from there on, managing to keep Snape mostly at bay. Since Snape ignored her, this helped keep him away from Neville, repelling him like two magnets when you tried to press them together.

“You sit with Neville today,” Ariel whispered to Hermione, as she and Ron walked to their seats. “I have something I need to do.”

Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed together. “What do you mean?”

“Just trust me.” Ariel shot a glance at Snape, his eyes trying to put a hole in her forehead. He was definitely mad about last night. Hermione frowned, but she wasn’t in any position to argue, because everyone was staring right at them, now. She felt like a goldfish in a bowl.

Neville shot Ariel a panicked look as Hermione sat down next to him, while Ariel slid onto the stool next to Ron. She felt her heart squeeze with guilt, but Neville would be okay. If he was her partner this class, Snape would filet him like a fish for what Ariel was about to do, simply because he sat right next to her.

Snape was patrolling the class today, which always made things significantly more unpleasant. Ariel couldn’t help but wonder if this was a consequence from their encounter last night. Normally, Snape would just sit behind his desk and glare at everyone, only rising if one of the Slytherins had a question — he made the Gryffindors walk up to his desk, which meant that none of them ever asked for assistance. When Snape decided to walk around, however, he’d throw insults left and right, most of them at Neville, even if he hadn’t done a thing — Ariel had a feeling Snape was very easily annoyed by fear, which made her feel very badly for poor Neville. Sometimes, Ariel found herself wanting to say something just as awful back at Snape, but then she remembered that he’d been the one to find her under that cupboard, and kept her mouth shut.

If your potion was fine, however, Snape wouldn’t say a word. Ariel usually held her breath when he passed by, but he barely glanced inside her cauldron. She guessed that was a good thing.

They were making a Forgetfulness Potion, which had been written out on the board, but Ariel had brought the Potions textbook too. She’d thought it peculiar that Snape’s directions differed from the textbook. Hermione never looked at the board, because an academic book being wrong meant Hermione’s world would collapse on itself.

Ariel watched Snape carefully as he moved — he hadn’t even addressed the class today to tell them how dimwitted and careless they were, how maybe only one of them would successfully brew a Forgetfulness Potion, while the rest of the class forgot how to read, which meant they probably shouldn’t be here. He’d simply pointed to the board, surveying the class with a scowl so potent that Ariel could’ve sworn the fetuses in those creepy jars quaked with fear.

Snape looked like a great bat, swooping around workbenches to startle even the Slytherins. Poor Neville was a wreck already, Hermione quietly dictating directions while taking things from his hands. No wonder Hermione and Ron argued so much during Potions — Hermione really did have to be in control of everything. Ariel loved her dearly for it, but she liked Potions, and would’ve been bored out of her skull if Hermione did it all. It was probably for the best with Neville, though, in his current state.

Snape started with the Slytherins (because of course he did). Usually they didn’t say anything when he swept past, but today, Malfoy and Pansy must’ve been bored, because Pansy’s hand went out straight away. Whenever Ariel glanced in their direction (to look at Snape), Pansy would grin evilly, flicking the leftover moonseeds (which Malfoy had put in too early) at her and Ron. When Snape finally got to them, however, he said some intelligible, and nodded in approval.

Pansy beamed, and something inside of Ariel felt burning hot, like a pipe whistling as steam poured out of it. Her vision blurred as she quickly busied herself with watching the cauldron bubble, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

Ariel hated this, she realized. Maybe she even hated Snape.

“Are you okay?” Ron leaned close to her, giving Ariel a nudge. “Do you need —”

“Pass me the moonseeds, will you?” Ariel muttered back. Ron handed them to her, a concerned look written plainly on her face. That was when Snape noticed them, again.

She could feel it radiating off of Snape — the insult she’d been terrified of all this time, the culmination of the last two days finally coming to fruition, a scathing remark that would echo Aunt Petunia and Dudley and Uncle Vernon and Malfoy, but so, so much worse…

For the greater good, Ariel thought to herself.

She picked up a handful of moonseeds, and chucked them straight at Malfoy’s stupid head.

Pansy screamed — one might’ve thought Ariel had taken off Malfoy’s entire upper half, by how she was carrying on. The room erupted into chaos, the Slytherins shouting at Ariel, while the rest of the Gryffindors quickly came to her aid, yelling right back at them. Ron was practically leaping over the workbench to get at Malfoy by the time Snape shot over, a billowing mass of rage.

Ariel didn’t even flinched as Snape bared down on her. She was expecting a little more, like how mad he’d been at the Dursleys, but this was still pretty darn scary. Perhaps she was becoming immune to it. Was that a thing?

“Miss Evans,” Snape hissed venomously. “just what do you think you’re doing?”

Ariel looked him straight in the eye, trying to ignore how badly her hands shook. “He forgot the moonseeds go in after the bat spleen, sir.”

“I did not!” Malfoy fumed, shaking his hands through his tidy hair. Ariel tried not to snicker at his hair, which was sticky up in pointy directions. Malfoy looked like a ferret with a mohawk.

“He did,” Ariel said, biting back a smile.

“You’re an idiot, Bug,” Malfoy sneered, his face glowing pink. “Stupid Glamour Girl, nothing inside that Mudbl—”

“And you’re a SLIMEBALL!” Ron roared back.

“ENOUGH!” Snape boomed, and Neville let out a moan that sounded like he was going to pass out from fright. With a flick of his wrist, all of the cauldrons evaporated (Hermione let out a gasp of horror) and then, Snape turned to Malfoy and Pansy.

“Miss Parkinson,” Snape’s voice was barely a whisper, so deathly quiet, like the sky before a hurricane. “you will take Mr Malfoy to the infirmary at once. The rest of you are going to stay put, or so help me, I will make you regret ever being born.”

Pansy fretted over Malfoy as they headed out, the rest of the class so quiet that Ariel could’ve heard a pin drop. Malofy walked with a limp, holding onto Pansy for support. Ariel rolled her eyes. Snape did not turn until they had gone, and when he did, he moved like a panther. Ariel heard Ron exclaim a defiant “HEY!” before someone — probably Hermione — shushed him.

Snape grabbed Ariel’s wrist — hard — and hauled her out the door.

To be continued...
End Notes:
A/N: Sorry this chapter is a few days late, life gets in the way sometimes. Review would go a super long way! xx
Chapter 7: for those below by shostakobitch

Snape was a lot angrier than Ariel had originally estimated.

She’d clocked him at around an eight on the Snape-Anger scale, but now, alone with him in the corridor, Ariel had very clearly underestimated him. Snape had shot up to at least an eleven out of ten, the meter inside Ariel’s head blinking red and blue warning lights. She rubbed her wrist when Snape finally let go, glaring up at him, but very glad Pansy and Malfoy hadn’t been there to see Snape drag her out of the room like that. They never would have let her live that one down.

Snape rounded on her once the door had closed behind them. As soon as he let go of Ariel, he backed away, like her touch had burned him, but it was what twisted in his face made her forget about Snape’s inherent strangeness.

“I’m not sorry.” said Ariel, without even thinking. “I’d do it again.”

It was the truth, but for a split second, Ariel had considered that telling Snape her actual feelings might not have been the best course of action. She half expected his head to pop off his shoulders and land on the floor, like Nearly-Headless Nick’s did. Snape kind of looked like a Halloween character, although in that moment, he could’ve been a mannequin in a Muggle store advertising for the holiday. Snape’s body didn’t move, but his face did, like a summer squall racing across a spotless sky.

“Why is it,” Snape hissed down at her. “that whenever you find yourself in trouble, you choose to make it exponentially worse for yourself?”

“Probably because I’m a meddlesome Gryffindor.” Ariel guessed.

Snape didn’t seem to appreciate Ariel’s direct quote. His nostrils flared, his fists clenching at his sides. Ariel could’ve sworn the torches dimmed, just a little bit. Beneath the fiery gaze of Snape’s fury, something was shifting in his dark, pitless eyes. Ariel watched it move, like a shadow behind a curtain trying to pull the slit between them closed. She tried to follow it, wanting to catch it in her fist and keep it there so she could study and understand it, but Snape was searching her eyes too. Ariel wondered if he recognized them yet, even a little bit.

“You think you’re quite clever, don’t you?” Snape asked in a quiet voice. It made Ariel shiver at the same time her face flushed crimson.

“I wasn’t —”

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing.” Snape took a step forward, and Ariel unconsciously backed away. He seemed a lot taller all of a sudden, much bigger in his billowing black robes. His face was tight with anger, but The Something Ariel saw in his eyes was creeping out, peeking at her. “That I don’t know what you’re up to… and this time, I don’t mean only breaking school rules.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied, but she did. Ariel had crossed Snape one too many times, had played with something she didn’t understand, and now, he was going to —

“Give me the letter.” said Snape.

Ariel’s heart stopped. “W-what? No!”

“It’s causing disruptions in my classroom,” Snape’s voice was cold and biting. “when you’re not wreaking havoc around the school. Give — it — to me. I know you have it.”

She looked around wildly, clutching her rucksack to her chest. Ariel wouldn’t let him take it — she WOULD NOT. Why couldn’t Snape just give her detention and send her off? He’d never sent a student out of the room before, not even when Lavender split a whole vial of Nebaz’s blood, which Snape had spent fifteen minutes lecturing them on how valuable it was, or when Neville shook so hard that if Ariel hadn’t known any better, she might’ve thought she was feeling the beginnings of an earthquake.

It was because Ariel had told Snape about her mum, she realized. This was what Ariel had been waiting for last night, waiting to run into this morning at breakfast. Snape was going to make her sorry, like he’d promised on Halloween. He was going to make her regret asking about her mum, but why… WHY did it matter if Ariel asked? What did Snape have to hide? Why couldn’t he just ask outright, and make everything so much easier?

Ariel stared up at Snape, desperately searching his eyes for that thing she’d seen, could sense rolling off of him. It wasn’t anger, Ariel could see now. The longer she looked up at him, trying to lock onto The Something that wasn’t masked as disgust or anger or frustration. The Something in his eyes was growing, a quiet desperation, much like her own. It reminded her of a single street post lit all by its lonesome, standing silent and unmoving in the darkness. How many times had Ariel stared through the windows of Dudley’s second bedroom, trying to feel that light beating on the other side?

“Please, don’t.” Ariel whispered. She hated how her voice shook, but it had stirred The Something, a surge in Snape’s bottomless black eyes that hurt to look at. Snape’s face stripped itself of all of the anger and contempt, until there was this… raw look of horror. All of Ariel’s organs seemed to seize up at once, the torches suddenly brighter. They bounced off of Snape’s bone-white face, the lines jagged and undefined, just like his expression.

Ariel held her rucksack tighter. Have some fire have some fire have some fire —

And then Snape moved. Ariel yelped, because he moved both like a tank and a cheetah, and was certain he was going to Transfigure her into a sock or something. Instead, Snape moved straight past her and slammed the door in her face. Before Ariel could react, Ron came stumbling out of the classroom, his face red and sweaty.

“I’m coming with you.” Ron said. “Snape can ground us into potions ingredients, but Merlin’s beard, that was bloody satisfying to watch.”

———

Severus dismissed the hoard of risible cretins early, and swept into his quarters. His mind had gone blank beneath the safety and reliability of his Occlumency, which meant that his classroom would not be a homicide crime scene (at least, not for today). He sent a note to Minerva to round up Lily-thing and the Weasley twerp for inciting chaos during his class, and fell into an armchair.

Occlumency carried Severus into a lull that was far between Lily’s daughter and his consciousness, way out to a calm, still sea of tranquility that was neither here nor there. There was no feeling there, no need to smash and break and bend like Severus had the night before. No magic hummed in the air, no swears fell from his mouth. He was set apart from the fiery rage that had made his teeth buzz while he watched Lily-thing chuck potions ingredients at Draco Malfoy’s face.

Severus had known it was going to happen when he saw contempt split down Lily-thing’s face like a zipper, revealing something that yearned for approval. It was usually well hidden by Lily-thing’s ability to look small and non-threatening, but Severus had seen how much of a Gryffindor Lily-thing really was when she’d thrown those moonseeds like her life depended on it.

Severus ought to have wrung Lily-thing’s neck for what she’d done in his class, let alone to one of his Slytherins. Draco was arrogant and insufferable to Lily-thing, yes, but if the girl made an enemy of the Malfoys, she was going to have bigger problems than name-calling. Severus knew what Draco and Parkinson did when his back was turned, yes, but it was harmless, for now. Not to mention that Lily-thing had completely undermined Severus’ authority in front of the little monsters, in front of the Gryffindors, that FOOLISH LITTLE —

It hadn’t been about the Slytherins, though. The amount of defiance in Lily-things small, thin face had been tainted with hope and anticipation. It was the kind that was created by provocation, and he’d landed right in her trap, just like Lily-thing had hoped. Severus had realized this on his gentle glide out to Occlumency sea.

He could see it clearly now, the longer he pondered it, the more he thought about Lily-thing’s strange and bizarre behavior since Halloween night. Lily-thing was trying to get Severus’ attention… was trying to get some sort of reaction out of him, but for what? Flitwick had said the brat was asking about her mother’s letter, which undoubtedly had something about Severus that he couldn't begin to guess. Lily-thing wanted to get to the bottom of it, and she was a determined child, unfortunately.

Determination had gotten her away from those wretched Muggle relatives.

But that was far away from Severus, now, floating out on the untouched water, where he let himself bob in the swell of waves. He’d shoved it so far away from him, tucked tightly into his little box, that he no longer felt the murderous rage and the crushing ache of Lily-thing’s pleading. The look on her face had twisted his heart like a physical blow to it, leaving Severus both astonished and deeply disturbed. He’d tried to pin it down and figure the girl out, but there was something Severus was missing.

He had not seen Lily or Potter, or even a mixture of the two in their daughter’s face. Severus had seen only himself, the hunger of a child and the desperation to understand. Seveurs never should have asked the brat for the letter, no matter how much he wanted to read it and scare her into leaving him alone. The foundations of childhood always crumbled on their own, eventually. The girl would learn.

Severus went to speak to Dumbledore, then.

He contemplated how low his desperation must have sunk to seek out the old man in a time of emotional distress. This wasn’t something that happened often — it was unicorn-rare for Severus to willingly have a conversation with Dumbledore that held something of true value. Well, besides the Dark Lord, but that was the whole point of Severus teaching at Hogwarts, wasn’t it? Most of their meetings had been spent discussing the history of the school, or listening to Dumbledore reminisce about travels, the Founders, old Headmasters and students. The Occlumency had illuminated, though, that Dumbledore probably knew something Severus did not about Lily’s letter, and her daughter, and though Dumbledore may try, he could not hide something forever once Severus became suspicious. He was a Slytherin, after all.

And the old man did know something, because Severus had seen it in the staff room. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good, but he would not play the part of the fool, either. Severus was very quickly growing tired of being taken off guard, something Lily-thing had executed well… three times, now? Four? Whatever the figure was, it was an alarming number. It need to be stopped, before Lily-thing stumbled upon something she didn’t understand, and Severus would be forced to explain to her why she was a stupid, arrogant, thickheaded Gryffindor, just like her father.

Although the persistence did scream Lily. She’d never been one to back down, not even when she’d known she was wildly overstepping her boundaries. It had fed Severus’ own needs long after Lily had closed the door on their friendship.

Dumbledore must have been expecting Severus to splinter the door off its hinges, because he’d put cushioning charms on the surrounding area of his office when Severus finally entered. He’d been forced to grit out “gnomey nougat” to the statue, which had managed to burrow through his Occlumency and cause small ripples of annoyance to sway through his mind.

Dumbledore looked up as Severus stood in the doorway, and smiled, a freshly inked quill in his hands. He’d been writing to Fudge — he only used the quill with the Gryffindor feathers, gold and ruby red, when he wrote to the Minister. Dumbledore did not greet Severus with anything but that smile, a knowing glint is his eyes that was brighter than the sun.

“Have you had lunch yet, my boy?” Dumbledore twinkled at him, setting the quill down. “I seem to have written straight through it, I’m afraid. I’ve lost myself in my writing. Better to be lost in words than in mind, though.” he smiled, and it felt like he’d swung a sword at Severus’ head.

Severus did not react. He stepped into the room wordlessly, and clicked the door shut behind him. It was the loudest sound in the room, louder than all the baubles whirring and magic humming. Dumbledore simply set down his quill and pointed his wand at the coffee table in front of his desk. The tea set began to busy itself as platters of finger food popped into existence, along with two armchairs. One was midnight-blue, the other lemon-yellow.

“I’ve been meaning to ask how you’re meeting with Quirinus went.” Dumbledore sat down as the teaset busied itself. He seated himself in the yellow chair, which Severus was almost grateful for. If he’d taken the blue one, Severus would have set them both on fire.

He still did not speak. Severus saw clearly through the Occlumency, but not clearly enough. There was a certain amount of clarity his emotions held, even if he knew they were driven by the mania of paranoia. If Dumbledore noticed that Severus’ silence was calculated, he did not make it known. Instead, he gave a grateful nod at the teapot as it poured itself into his cup — as if it were a sentient being — and leaned back in his chair.

Severus glared at his tea cup as it floated towards him, bobbing in front of his face as it waited for him to take it. Dumbledore sipped his own, making a content sound as he nodded in approval. It was peppermint, with an ungodly amount of sugar — Dumbledore’s favorite. Severus could smell if wafting off the cup levitating in front of him as it began to float away. Dumbledore sat patiently as he waited for Severus’ report, sipping his tea happily and pretending as if there wasn’t any other possible reason for Severus being here in the middle of the school day.

“If Quirrell is after the Stone,” said Severus. “he’s doing a very poor job of securing it.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Well, I would hope that whoever desires the Stone would find it a tad difficult. Even if they’re operating under someone else’s wishes.”

“He was barely able to squeak out a coherent sentence by the time I was done with him. If the Dark Lord is behind the events on Halloween, he’s become pathetically desperate.”

“Hm,” Dumbledore frowned. “I do hope you weren’t too forceful, Severus.”

That had been right after Lily-things’ detention. Severus didn’t remember much after that, but he did remember Quirrell nearly fainting. It had been immensely satisfying, but not nearly enough to make him feel better. Severus vaguely remembered Quirrell catching sight of the blood of his hand and balking. There had been this itch he couldn’t scratch, just like there was now. Something was just within his reach, something important that he knew or should know, but it kept evading him like wind — whispered to him as it whipped past, unable to hear what it was saying.

“Severus,” Dumbledore set down his teacup and reached a withered hand towards him. “are you alright, my boy?”

Severus was deciding whether or not to destroy the tea set when he finally decided that getting angry was exactly what Dumbledore thought he’d do. And so, he decided to play the Headmaster’s game for a minute or two.

“What does she know?” Severus asked, relishing the look of surprise that flashed across the old man’s face.

Dumbledore blinked at him. “Who?”

“You know who.” Severus forced himself to dig his nails into his palm. “I heard you and Flitwick talking about that damn letter.”

Dumbledore looked genuinely surprised again, for a moment, but it was quickly replaced with thoughtfulness. “Ariel shared it with you?”

“No,” thank Merlin and Morgana. “The brat mentioned it, though. She wanted to know how to undo Lily’s Charm. I told her I couldn’t help her.”

“Ah, yes, well,” Dumbledore seemed almost… disappointed. Sentimental old fool. “Filius was quite firm in his belief that it couldn’t be undone without the correct enchantment. Minerva’s just Floo’d me, actually.” Dumbledore continued, sipping his tea as he stared up at the portraits. Severus followed his gaze to a man, not as old as Dumbledore, but on in years, wearing a monocle and a cane. His beard was threaded in four separate braids. “Moonseeds are relatively harmless by themselves, but Poppy says Draco claimed temporary blindness. Are you aware of such effects?”

“Malfoy could be a theatre actor with the amount of dramatics he exudes.” Severus muttered. “I’ll undoubtedly be hearing from his mother in the next week.”

“Would Narcissa really go to such lengths?” asked Dumbledore, taking a sip of his tea.

“No, but she’s nosey.” Pureblood women were a different breed of witch. Narcissa would take an inconvenient type of interest in the girl, if Draco carried on enough. “She’ll want to know all about the girl if her son complains about her as much as he does with the rest of the Slytherins.”

“I see,” Dumbledore’s brow deepened, but his eyes held a glint of amusement. “well, I must say that I was surprised to hear it was Miss Evans causing trouble, especially in your classroom. Minerva mentioned that Mr Weasley made a foolish effort in following her, but it does comfort me to know that she’s found such steadfast friends.”

“What does the girl know?” Severus repeated, trying not to feel nauseated by the sentiments of love and friendship being spewed at him. “I know you know something. You knew she had the letter, didn’t you?”

“I had an idea.” Dumbledore said loftily. “There were other items in Lily’s belongings that made reference to it, and Ariel asked to take some pictures before I sorted through it myself. No harm done, really, but it’s quite curious…”

“No, it’s not.” said Severus flatly. “The brat is meddling with the things she doesn’t understand.”

“Such as?”

Severus stared right at him. The only way he was going to get any answers was by being direct, and Dumbledore did not do well with direct questions. He could dance around them with metaphors and word paintings, but he knew that Severus was smarter than that, and a Slytherin. Severus couldn’t be easily deterred, and while he was used to using more tact, Dumbledore’s side-stepping of conversations was annoyingly admirable.

“I almost took it from her before.” Severus told him, watching intently as Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. “The letter. That’s why she threw potion ingredients at Malfoy. She’s trying to get my attention.”

Dumbledore’s face did not change. “And why would Ariel do that?”

“I don’t know.” Severus said coolly. “You tell me.”

There was a long, deafening silence. Severus could feel his ears ringing as the blood pumped through his veins, faster and faster until his molars itched. His Occlumency was starting to slip.

“I don’t know any more than you do about Lily’s letter.” said Dumbledore. “Seeing as I haven’t had the pleasure of reading it.”

There was something missing in that sentence. The cadence of Dumbledore’s voice was off, something missing from it that was just within Severus’ reach, but he couldn’t figure out what the sodding fuck it was.

She mentioned you, I thought you’d want to know

“You have… an idea, though.” Severus said slowly.

“I have many ideas,” Dumbledore said pleasantly. “each one as unlikely as the next.”

Severus’ palm collided with the floating tea cup, which had been circling him like a moon in orbit. Dumbledore stared calmly back, and that was what did it. There was always a lack of a reaction, no conviction or clarity. Somehow, Severus was always left on the dark side of a one-way glass, with Dumbledore looking in and seeing everything Severus couldn’t. Between Dumbledore’s all-knowing gaze and Lily-thing’s wild eyes, Severus was going to go completely mad. The thing with not-Lily eyes and Lily hair and freckles, the horrendous haircut Petunia had given her and then ache in her face that echoed in Severus’ own heart — Dumbledore’s knowing looks, the understanding and compassion prevalent in the lines of his face. It was too much.

Severus let his Occlumency slide off like a sheet. The force of his most precious secret now a mere a tool in Lily-thing’s toolbox hit him like a Bludger.

“She knows.” Severus’ chest heaved as he stood over Dumbledore, tea pooling around his boots. “She knows I knew her mother, because apparently, Lily wrote something in that blasted letter. There is no comprehensible reason that Lily would need to share that with her, but the brat fucking knows something. She’s put two and two together somehow, but there is no logical explanation as to why Lily would have to tell her daughter anything about me.”

“Well, clearly there must be.” Dumbledore said calmly. “Or else Lily wouldn’t have written it down.”

Severus slammed his fist down on the table, the scones bouncing to the floor. Dumbledore stared back at him, something unfathomable in his blue eyes. The early November breeze swept past Severus, rustling Dumbledore’s beard as it filled the room. The portraits, who had been in various states of awareness, had gone silent, watching the conversation with rapt attention.

“Severus,” Dumbledore said quietly, setting down his tea cup. “when you vowed to keep Ariel safe from Voldemort —”

Severus’ skin prickled, and it wasn’t from the cold. “Don’t say the name!”

Something like pity passed over Dumbledore’s face, and Severus hated it. “Tom, then. When you made that promise, to protect Ariel from Tom after what happened in Godric’s Hollow, I took you into the heart of this school. You’re responsible for hundreds, if not thousands of students over the past decade. I’ve often encouraged you to find something worth nurturing in them, and time and time again you’ve refuted me. Would it be such an inconceivable thought to allow Ariel to see what I do? After what you have sacrificed to keep her safe?”

“I don’t want anything to do with her!” Severus snapped, the room suddenly feeling much smaller. “I will protect her with my life for Lily’s sake, but nothing more. Why would she write to the girl about me? What do you know — I have a right to know, Albus!”

He tried to ignore how those words twisted his heart, but the idea of Lily-thing — of any child — liking him was almost laughable, if it weren’t completely mental. The Slytherins respected him as their Head of House, certainly, but Severus didn’t think any of them necessarily liked him as a professor. The Gryffindors probably had a burned effigy of him in their Common Room. The Ravenclaws were far more interested in his grading than anything else, and the Hufflepuffs landed somewhere between the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. Children did not like him, even if he did have a hand in rescuing them from narcissistic, jealousy-ridden Muggle aunts.

“It may be too late for that, my boy.” Dumbledore said, and Severus wanted to obliterate that tone, along with the rest of the furniture, and the entire office. “Can you think of no other reason Ariel might be trying to form some sort of connection with you? Besides Lily’s reference to you, whatever it may be.”

The vague suggestions were only making Severus angrier. “What the hell are you talking about? I’ve barely acknowledged the brat.”

“Words are too complicated.” Dumbledore waved at him, almost dismissively. “Actions, however, take on a far greater meaning.”

Severus was going to strangle him and end up in Azkaban, he was sure of it. “What are you —”

“You took her from Petunia’s.” Dumbledore said simply. “An act like that does not go unnoticed, especially by a child.”

one two buckle my shoe

roses one two three

Severus swallowed back the burn in his throat. “Any idiot with even an inkling of a moral compass —”

“No, not just anyone.” Dumbledore shook his head. “You were quite upset when you saw what Petunia had subjected Ariel to. You were quite possibly the first person to express any sort of kindness towards her.”

“What does she know?” Severus demanded, ignoring him. He’d take care of that, but he would not concede until he knew what the girl really wanted. Taking Lily’s daughter from those worthless fucking Muggles was the least Severus could have done. Lily would have probably leveled the entire neighborhood herself, maybe even Potter, too, but he’d never possessed the same amount of fire Lily had. Potter had only ever done things in the Name of Goodness and Truth, no matter how pervasive that ideology could be.

“Severus —” Dumbledore began, a monologue on his lips.

“Tell me, Albus, or so help me —”

“Ariel will be faced with much, in the coming years.” Dumbledore said, in a voice that was smooth, like glass, but stronger than iron. “If there is one thing Tom cannot fathom, it is the ability to love, Severus, to be kind and to build on that foundation with friendship. You understand that better than anyone, and Ariel will need it more than you know.”

“Love was not enough to save Lily!” Severus snarled before he could stop himself.

His words rang in the air for a moment as Dumbledore stared at him with those fathomless blue eyes. Severus felt as though the floor had pulled out from underneath him. He wished that it had.

“Love was enough to save Ariel.” Dumbledore said, and this time, he rose, folding his hands together in front of him. “And that ability will continue to protect her. It’s Tom’s only weakness. It is her only hope.”

———

Ariel sat within the confines of her four-poster later than evening, feeling a hollow sense of triumph settle in the pit of her stomach.

Professor McGonagall had given them a scolding that had left Ariel feeling ashamed and embarrassed. Ron not so much, he’d reassured her that whatever her reasons were, that finally doing something (even if it wasn’t really anything) to the Slytherins, especially Malfoy, had been well received by the Gryffindors. Fred and George had given her a hand drawn certificate that shot out confetti whenever Ariel opened it, which had made her feel good for six whole seconds before they’d inquired about how angry their Head of House had been. No one ever misbehaved purposefully in Snape’s class.

I expected better of you, Miss Evans, Professor McGonagall had said, more disappointment in her voice than anger, and it had made Ariel feel the smallest yet. She’d never had someone disappointed in her before, because that meant they must have placed some amount of worth in her existence. The Dursleys would have never lowered themselves to that. Professor McGonagall was her Head of House, though, and she’d docked them thirty points. Ron said it a good thing it had been Professor McGonagall and not Snape — he would have smashed the Gryffindor’s hourglass, if he could’ve.

She’d then separated Ariel and Ron for their detentions (Ron’s was for leaving class without permission). Ariel was to report to Snape again, and Ron was cleaning bedpans in the infirmary. She tried very hard to feel victorious, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t stop picturing that look on Snape’s face before he’d stormed back into his classroom. It had been worth it, in the end, because Ariel was going to see Snape, but… somehow, she felt like she was about to walk into a trap. Was that how Snape had felt last night?

Hermione had said very little to Ariel between dinner and returning to Gryffindor Tower. Snape hadn’t been at dinner, either, but Ariel had caught Professor Dumbledore staring at her more than once. Ariel wondered if Snape or Professor McGonagall had told him what she’d done, and felt another terrible wave of shame crash over her. Malfoy had spent all of dinner with a pack of ice on his eye, moaning, while the rest of the Slytherins gave Ariel terrible glares. Fred and George had promised to put laxatives in their pumpkin juice tomorrow morning.

Lavender and Pararti turned their noses up at Ariel as they made eye contact coming out of the bathroom. Ariel sighed, shaking her head as they shut themselves away in the curtains behind their bed, whispering loud enough for Ariel to hear them, but not to understand what they were saying. Lavender was still mad about the fairy lights and pictures, and after Ariel’s stunt in Potion’s, they’d thought she’d gone completely off the deep end in an attempt to offend them somehow. She made a plan to apologize to Lavender - again — tomorrow morning. Tonight, Ariel had more important things to worry about.

Hermione was scratching away at one of their assignments. Ariel didn’t know which one, because Hermione usually did essays that were due in two weeks the night they were assigned, and their work had begun to pile up as Hogwarts schedules became their new normal. Ariel craned her had to try and get a peek, wanting to start up a conversation, and saw that her Defense textbook was open. That essay hadn’t even been assigned yet — Quirrell had mentioned possibly giving it to them sometime before Christmas.

The scratching stopped. Ariel stuffed her nose into her mum’s letter, like she was analyzing the fold creases. She could feel Hermione’s eyes on her, wanting to ask her what was up, but she was secretly terrified that Hermione was angry, like Lavender and Parvarti were.

“When’s your detention?” Hermione asked, not turning around, but her quill didn’t move.

Ariel’s stomach gave a funny little jump. “In a few minutes, I think. I’m walking down with Ron.”

Hermione made a sound Ariel couldn’t categorize. The sound of her quill writing began again, but it was slower this time, and more spaced out, like she wasn’t dictating as much. Ariel went back to staring at the letter, wondering what good it was with nothing written on it anymore. Her conversation with Professor Flitwick had made her feel hopeless, and even though she really, really wanted him to know, Ariel didn’t know if she had the guts to tell Snape outright. He was suspicious now, though — dangerously suspicious. At least Ariel had done a good job of making the meanest professor in the entire school furious with her.

“Why’d you do it?” Hermione asked suddenly, shutting her Defense textbook with a thump. “You know Professor Snape never disciplines the Slytherins.”

Ariel’s heart gave a little jump, folding the letter over once. “Malfoy deserved it! He’s always getting away with being horrid to us.”

“Yes,” Hermione agreed, but her eyebrows knitted closer together. “But surely you must’ve known Professor Snape would be furious.”

She nodded slowly, lowering her eyes to her quilt. “I had a hunch.”

Hermione’s frown deepened. She pushed her chair away from the desk and climbed onto Ariel’s bed, giving Lavender’s a horrid glare before pulling Ariel’s curtains shut. A scandalized gasp came from across the room.

“I think you should tell him.” Hermione said quietly. “Tonight. That’s what you were going to do anyway, yeah?”

Was it that obvious? Ariel swallowed roughly. “I know we said I shouldn’t —”

“It’s okay,” Hermione nodded solemnly. “Something happened last night, during your detention, didn’t it? Something else you didn’t say.”

Ariel nodded. “I might’ve let on more than I should’ve.”

“How much more?”

She squirmed. “I can’t take it, Hermione. Snape knows something. He might not remember seeing Mum again, but he didn’t forget everything. Maybe… maybe it’s enough.”

“Maybe,” Hermione said thoughtfully, but her eyes lowered themselves to the bedspread. “Maybe — if he really loved her.”

Something jolted down Ariel’s spine. She felt like she’d been electrocuted.

“What?” Hermione asked, her eyes widening. “I didn’t mean to overstep—”

“No, that’s not it.” Ariel shook her head, trying to shake off the dizziness. “I just… I don’t know, I never thought of it like that.”

Maybe Snape did love her mum. Maybe he didn’t. Ariel wished now more than ever that the letter was as it once was, so she could reread her mother’s wording and try to connect the word love to Snape. Mum had said it loads of times in the letter, but only to Ariel and James, never Snape. Hadn’t she, though? Loved him? Was that why she’d written it, because she loved Snape and wanted Ariel to know?

Had Snape loved Mum back?

“Well, think about it.” Hermione said, scooting closer to her. “I mean, your mum said they were friends, weren’t they? And then she said something about Professor Snape telling her things she wished she’d known, and that even if he didn’t remember that night, he’d never hurt you or her. I don’t know much about that kind of stuff, but feeling safe like that… I don’t know, it sounds like love in a way, doesn’t it?”

Ariel didn’t know a lot about love either, but it made sense… sort of. Maybe that was why Snape didn’t want to talk about Mum. Ariel couldn’t imagine talking about Hermione or Ron if one of them was murdered by an evil wizard, and she’d only known them a few months. And then she felt terrible, because if Snape loved her mum and her mum had died, maybe he knew what she felt, lying under her parents’ pictures and wishing she could hear their voices, just once.

Another voice in the back of her head said, “what if Snape doesn’t want you?”

———

Not too long after that, Ariel set off for her detention with Ron, who didn’t seem too upset at spending a night cleaning in the infirmary when he really hadn’t done anything wrong. He chatted away merrily, reliving the moment the moonseeds had collided with Malfoy’s face, and how Pansy’s had twisted like a pugs’ snout. Ariel smiled and nodded along, but all she could think of was Snape’s gaunt face in the torchlight and the wounded, caged expression in his eyes writhing beneath all that anger. She wondered if that was how Snape would greet her tonight.

“I’d scrub a hundred bedpans to see that again.” Ron was saying as they stepped in front of the Great Hall. “Although maybe not the scolding from McGonagall. I did feel a bit guilty then, but after Malfoy ratted you out about the duel and Fluffy… Merlin, that really was brilliant.”

“Yeah,” Ariel agreed glumly. “I can see why.”

Ariel stopped, letting her eyes fall to the floor. She didn’t know what was worse, Snape or the bedpans, but she’d wanted to get a detention with Snape. Ron hadn’t wanted to scrub bedpans.

Ron stopped when he noticed Ariel had stopped walking. “What’s wrong? You okay, mate?”

She marched forward and hugged him. For a moment, Ariel didn’t realize she was doing it until Ron let out something that sounded like a squeak.

“We’re doing this now?” Ron gave an uncomfortable laugh.

“No,” Ariel let him go. “you’re just a good mate, is all.”

“Right.” Ron ran his hand through his hair, his face a bright red. “Well, then I’ll see you later. Good luck with Snape.”

And then he pivoted and lopped off. Ariel stared after him, contemplating calling out, but decided against it. If she hadn’t known better, Ariel might’ve thought the floor was lava, by the way Ron was walking. His demeanor had done a complete one-eighty.

Boys were weird, Ariel decided as she made her way towards the dungeons, but she couldn’t decide if it was just her, or the people around her. Maybe it was just all boys — men. Uncle Vernon had been very strange, though not as strange as Snape. Ariel had thought Ron was immune to it, but if giving a hug caused him to run away, well… maybe Ariel was just missing something. She’d have to ask Lavender about it when she apologized. Lavender knew a lot about boys. Although, maybe Ariel was better off not knowing.

As Ariel started her descent into the dungeons, she stopped suddenly. Something felt… off. She couldn’t put her finger on whatever it was, but as she squinted into the darkness at the bottom of the steps, she could’ve sworn that it was… blacker. Ariel jumped as she heard something scurry behind her, like someone was running away. Had Ron followed her?

Scratch scratch scratchscratchscratch

“Ron?” she called. “Madam Pomfrey will have a fit if you show up late.”

Something behind Ariel moved.

She whirled around, her breath catching in her throat, like a fly in a spider’s web. Ariel scanned the darkness in front of her, straining her eyes to see something — anything — but there was nothing Ariel could make out within her sightline. The scratching sound continued. It didn’t sound like someone trailing behind her, but more like a dog beginning to be let in front outside. Aunt Marge’s dogs used to do that, when they hadn’t been trying to gnaw off Ariel’s hair.

Scratchscratchscratch scratchscratchscratch

“Lumos,” Ariel whispered.

No, it didn’t sound like dogs either. It was more… deliberate. There was patience in between each sound, like the scratching was simply something to pass the time, a way to fill the seconds that ticked by. The light wasn’t helping much, Ariel still couldn’t see anything past a few meters down the steps.

“If that’s you, Malfoy,” Ariel raised her wand higher, trying to make the shadows shorter. “I’ll make you sorry.”

The scratching stopped. The castle was eerily quiet, but the darkness was loud. It made her ragged breathing deafening as it sat there, and Ariel would’ve bet her wand arm it was watching her — but that was impossible, because darkness wasn’t something you could —

“Ariel Evans,” a cold, high voice hissed, slashing through the dark like a comet.

The night she’d jumped out of the window at the Dursleys, Ariel had been scared. She would never admit it, of course, but it was the first time Ariel had ever felt like that, the surge of adrenaline so strong that it made her knees weak and arms heavy. This type of fear was brand new though, seizing her chest like a fist. Ariel’s scar burst into white hot pain. It was only for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to cause her to cry out in surprise. She skittered back, away from the foreboding darkness of the dungeons, and darted back, putting out her Lumos as she ran.

Ariel couldn’t tell where she was running, only that the scratching sound was getting closer, the darkness thicker, and someone was saying her name over and over again. There was a feeling like scissors in her teeth, a nagging vibration that told her to keep running and to not look back. The cold, high voice was getting louder, the darkness growing in front of her as her boots slapped against the stone, until —

“Miss Evans!” a voice was snarling, a sharp hand on her shoulder. Ariel screamed and whirled around to find Snape, who she’d never been so happy to see, baring his teeth down at her and very out of breath. “Just where do you think you’re —”

“There’s someone there!” Ariel managed to strangle out. Her fear had wrapped itself around her throat, making anything other than running nearly impossible.

Snape gave her a disbelieving look for a split second, so quick, that if Ariel had blinked, she would’ve missed it. “Who?”

“I don’t know.” Ariel inched closer to him. “He wouldn’t stop saying my name.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously, and for once, they weren’t aimed at Ariel because of something she’d said. Snape’s gaze hardened as he squinted into the inky blackness beyond Ariel. She hated that it was there, just beyond her turned back, this open expanse of air that was threatening to swallow her whole. Snape must’ve noticed how on edge she was, because he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her beneath his cloak. Ariel’s nose smashed into his leg before letting her fingers curl around the wool of his robes. They were very soft.

Snape raised his wand as the darkness receded. Ariel wondered if he could see it too. He wasn’t acting like it. His wand lit up wordlessly, and the darkness seemed to suck itself up into itself, or maybe it was just a trick of the light. His face was smooth and calculating, but fearsome. Ariel couldn’t hear the darkness or the voice anymore, only her heart slamming against her ribcage and both their uneven breathing.

“He was there,” Ariel whispered. “I swear.”

“Did you recognize the voice?”

“No but…”

“But what?” Snape snapped.

“My scar hurt.”

Ariel hadn’t meant to say it, because it sounded stupid, but Snape’s eyes went from the not-so-dark-ness to her face instantly. “Explain.”

“It got really dark and quiet, and then I heard this voice.” Ariel shivered underneath his cloak. “My scar felt like it was burning when talked.”

Snape didn’t seem to want to leave, but the blackness was receding, or at least, it looked that way to Ariel. Maybe she’d really gone loony and was hallucinating it, but the hallway was starting to look normal again. Snape stared into it, like laser beams were about to come shooting out of his eyes (this wouldn’t have surprised Ariel), but after a moment or two, he turned.

“Come,” Snape said, looking over his shoulder one last time. “We’ll discuss this in my office.”

Ariel didn’t argue. She’d have taken those creepy fetuses in jars over the cold, high voice and the infinite darkness any day.

Snape’s arm stayed firmly around her shoulders.

To be continued...
End Notes:
A/N: As a teacher, it boggles my mind that Dumbledore and Snape are in charge of overseeing children. Especially this one.

I apologize for the delay. As some of you know, I’m a teacher and there’s been a lot of PD and planning for school this fall. I also took a Masters class, because Grad school is a great idea, right? Anyway, I hope to update more regularly now.

Reviews are also very much appreciated. xx
Chapter 8: weight of living by shostakobitch

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside.”

— Anonymous

———

Severus was quite certain that Lily-thing was going to cry.

He’d made Lily cry — twice, actually. The first time had been an accident, when his undeveloped child-magic had caused a tree branch to (unfortunately) miss Petunia. The other incident had been right before fourth year, when Severus had told Lily that he hated going home, hated his parents, and couldn’t wait until he could leave Cokeworth forever.

Lily’s daughter did not have the same crying face her mother had, thank Merlin. Lily’s eyes would fill to the brim with tears, like a bathtub filling with water, before sobbing uncontrollably for minutes on end. It had made Severus feel helpless, stupid, and miserable, and so he had tried very hard to never make Lily cry, ever, and for the most part, he had succeeded. They had argued constantly, though, most of their days together ending with Lily storming off, but she’d always come back, where Severus was always waiting for her.

Lily-thing looked like she was trying to swallow an anvil. It did not look comfortable at all — if Severus hadn’t known any better, he might have thought Lily-thing was choking on some obstructed object in her windpipe. He considered giving the girl a Calming Draught, but decided against it in the end. She’d probably refuse it anyway, being the little Gryffindor monster she was. She’d probably take it as a direct insult, a sign that Severus thought she was somehow weak.

Well, at least she wasn’t carrying on like Draco had, but the silence was beginning to unnerve him. Why wasn’t the brat doing anything?

Severus managed to peel Lily-thing off his side without too much trouble once they were safely inside his office. He made sure to cast a particularly strong Silencing Charm (not that anyone could hear past the dungeon walls anyway), and reinforced his Wards before turning his attention back to the girl. Lily-thing glanced around his office nervously, her wand still clutched tightly in her hand. Severus quickly ran a Diagnostic on the girl, a rainbow of color washing over her in droplets and cracks of light. Her eyes widened as she watched, a question clearly on her lips, but it never came.

“That’s pretty,” Lily-thing whispered instead, holding out her hand as if the sparks were snowflakes.

Severus ignored her and the uncomfortable feeling in his chest. The Diagnostic didn’t reveal anything, which he’d expected, but it was all the more troubling. The expression on Lily-thing’s face when she’d collided into him (again) had been eerily similar to the one she’d worn on Halloween, but also entirely different. Tonight, Lily-thing had looked like someone running for their life — the relief on her face when she’d realized it was Severus had found her was undeniable.

there’s someone there he wouldn’t stop saying my name

magic hummed in the air like blood in veins but there was nothing nothing nothing

So much had changed in the past three days, between Quirrell and Lily-thing and Dumbledore’s innate ability to make Severus’ blood pressure skyrocket. Time was tricky that way. There were whole months, even years, where nothing had changed after the Dark Lord had fallen. Severus hadn’t gone anywhere new or thought a single new thought as he forced himself to walk through the monotony of daily life. Then, Lily-thing had run away from Petunia’s, and in that one day, that hour, that mere half second when Severus had opened the cupboard door, it was like he had stepped into a new life. The past three days felt as though they would stretch on forever in an endless cycle of Lily-thing catching Severus completely off guard again and again.

Something was building, twisting itself into the fabric of time like vines. Something Severus couldn’t see, something Dumbledore couldn’t even pinpoint, and that scared him most of all.

“Sit.” Severus ordered, and for once, the brat did as she was told and sat down in front of his desk.

The girl’s face begged him for answers. Her fingers picked at the skin just above her eyes, a nervous tick inherited from her mother when she was under extreme stress. Lily had picked off half of her left eyebrow right before their fifth year NEWTS. Potter and Black had teased her relentlessly for it, and she’d Hexed their balls blue.

“Now,” Severus tried his best to use only his teacher voice, and not his Death Eater voice, which he was starting to realize carried over more often than not. “tell me everything. Do not leave anything out, because I will know, and this time, you’ll go straight to the Headmaster.”

The threat bounced off of the girl like oil on water. Lily-thing fiddled with her hands before peeking up at him warily. “You won’t get mad?”

Severus wanted to smash his face against the desk. “Whether I get mad or not should not influence your explanation of tonight’s events.”

“But you get mad a lot… like on Halloween, and at Aunt Petunia’s. I didn’t do anything then, and you were really mad.” the girl looked lost and disheveled, staring down at her hands like she was trying to make sense of how her fingers worked.

Jesus fucking Christ, children, even if they were Lily’s, were infuriating. “That was different. If you feel threatened, you need to tell me, a capable adult, so that I can take the necessary precautions and advise the appropriate parties.”

“Like Professor Dumbledore?”

Severus sighed heavily. “Yes, like Professor Dumbledore. Now, tell me who or what you heard.”

The girl did, which was nothing short of a miracle. She’d seemed so small and timid, but the more she spoke, Lily-thing grew both in size and confidence, like a sponge when submerged in water. By the time Lily-thing had finished, she looked more like her normal self, taller and poised. A pinprick of light had sparked again in her dark eyes. Even the freckles that had seemed to fade around her nose gained their color back. Lily’s had all but disappeared by the time she’d graduated. Severus wondered if her daughter’s would, too.

Despite the fact that Lily-thing was not emotionally traumatized, Severus was still deeply disturbed by her description of tonight’s events. He hadn’t seen anything in the corridor himself, but he’d certainly felt it — a cold that seeped into his bones and tied a knot in his throat. It was a kind of dark magic that was hard to conceal, hard to find unless you went looking for it… or it went looking for you. And it had found her, because Lily-thing’s scar shouldn’t have burned unless it meant imminent danger.

Severus had to remind himself that there was no possible way the Dark Lord could be inside of Hogwarts — not with Dumbledore here, anyway, but the fact that something was here, something powerful enough to stir that kind of protective magic to lash out…

Whoever, or whatever, was in the school had taken interest in the brat. The thought curled around his heart like an icicle. At least Lily-thing didn’t realize that —

“Could it have been whoever’s after the Stone?” Lily-thing asked in a tight voice.

Shit.

Severus stared down at Lily-thing, expressionless, while he sifted through his Things That Should Not Be Told To Children folder. Agreeing with the brat and letting her walk around with the knowledge that a homicidal maniac had deployed someone to steal a Stone that granted one immortality did not seem like something he should do, but then again, he regularly bullied children. Even though the girl was correct, she didn’t need to know it. The last thing Severus needed was to give a Gryffindor incentive to go off and begin a quest in the name of hero-doing-duties. Especially this Gryffindor. Lily-thing wouldn’t be frightened, she’d see it as a challenge.

The fact that whoever was after the Stone was now stalking Lily-thing was going to keep Severus’ awake at night. The girl didn’t need to suffer too.

“Tell me more about your scar.” Severus said dismissively, ignoring her question. “What did it feel like?”

Lily-thing looked like she was about to argue, but clamped her mouth shut and sighed instead. “It was really quick, only a second or two. It felt like someone poked me with a hot needle.”

Severus’ jaw clenched. “Has that ever happened before?”

“Yeah, once, during the —” Lily-thing’s eyes widened, and then her face quickly smoothed over, like she was clumsily trying to draw a veil shut. Severus was very nearly impressed, but the girl had the subtlety of a freight train.

“During what?” Severus snapped impatiently. “Don’t you dare lie, Miss Evans. This is far too important.”

The girl grimaced, and then pretended like the floor was the most interesting thing she’d ever seen. Gods, he hated children.

“It was when you looked at me,” Lily-thing said in a tiny voice. “Before the Sorting Ceremony.”

Severus felt something hot pierce straight through him, like a bullet in the dark.

He struggled to recall the Feast, through the tight bonds Occlumency had bound the memory under. Severus had locked it away in his tight little box, where Lily was, but as he sifted through, he saw the Sorting ceremony, and the curious, half-wave Lily-thing had given him. As soon as Severus had made eye contact with her and tried to turn her into a scorch mark, Lily-thing’s face had twisted with panic, her hand reaching up to touch her —

Severus had thought Lily-thing was trying to look away, or block his glare with her hands. Now, it seemed idiotic, but it still didn’t make any sense. Severus was not a direct threat to the girl. For fuck’s sake, he was at the damn school to protect her, like he had tonight. Unless the scar had sensed something else, and the split second of eye contact they’d had was just a coincidence. Quirrell had been next to him, hadn’t he? Severus couldn’t remember, he’d been too busy watching Lily-thing, and wondering what Molly Weasley must’ve thought when the girl had shown up in boy clothes and that escaped-mental-patient haircut.

He was still deep in thought when Lily-thing broke through the blissful silence.

“I don’t think it was you.” the girl stared up at him earnestly, her face thick with worry.

It took Severus half a beat to figure out what she was talking about. “Seeing as you nearly stampeded over me coming from the opposite direction, I would have suspected that fact would have been quite obvious.”

“I know,” Lily-thing said with a jerky nod. “I just didn’t want you to think the two were connected. I never thought about my scar hurting at the Sorting before now… it’s never bothered me. Sometimes I have to remind myself I didn’t get it in a car accident, like Aunt Petunia said.”

Severus wished he’d made Dumbledore tell him what he’d done to those useless scraps of flesh when they’d returned home. “It’s quite possible that whatever followed you tonight was also present at the Sorting.”

Her eyes widened. “So it’s definitely someone in the school?”

“Unless you’re proposing that someone astroprojected themselves into a corridor in Hogwarts to frighten you, I don’t see any other possibilities.”

The brat blinked at him before her face knitted together in deep thought. “How’d you know?”

Severus furrowed his eyebrows. “Know what?”

“Where to find me.” Lily-thing frowned. “I was nowhere near the dungeons.”

“There weren’t a great many places for you to go, Miss Evans. Not at this hour, anyway.”

That was a lie — he’d been in Dumbledore’s office the entire time, and had been making his way down, intent on obliterating whatever nonsense had taken root inside of Lily-thing’s head when he’d heard running, and known it had to be the girl.

“You… you didn’t hear the voice?” Lily-thing looked confused. “Not at all?”

This troubled Severus greatly. “No, I did not.”

Lily-thing looked almost disappointed, before she leaned forward, her demeanor suddenly loud and determined, like she was trying to make herself bigger.

“I didn’t imagine it!” the girl said defensively.

“I never said you did.” said Severus coldly.

“Oh,” she deflated. “So… you believe me, then?”

“Why do you think I performed a Diagnostic spell on you?” Severus said, stifling the urge to roll his eyes. “I wouldn’t have wasted my time on that if I suspected you of being dishonest.”

“Oh,” the girl’s corners twitched upward. “well, thank you.”

Severus didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything.

He considered letting the girl go, but maybe it was better off that she stay put for now. That way, Severus could keep an eye on her. Even if Severus escorted her up to Gryffindor Tower, he wasn’t comfortable with letting the brat out of his sight just yet — whoever had chased her could still be lurking around outside, though it was unlikely since the dungeons were near impossible to navigate unless you were a Slytherin. Lily-thing still had a pension for getting into trouble without trying very hard, just like her father.

The thought that Dumbledore should know about this crept forward, but Severus had just left his office, and he certainly wasn’t going to take the girl with him. He could only imagine the nauseating dialogue that would emerge from that interaction.

He was furious with Dumbledore anyway, so the old coot was just going to have to wait until morning. The thought of knowing something Dumbledore didn’t was immensely satisfying.

“I’ve made a mess of things, haven’t I?” Lily-thing said, just as Severus went to stand. He had decided that he was going to make her write a hundred lines or so, and then have her assist him with restocking the storeroom. It was nothing compared to what he’d originally had in store for her, but this way, he could keep an eye on the brat while manipulating her into telling him what was in that fucking letter.

He sat back down, and stared at the girl. Her legs swung absentmindedly high above the floor, but her eyes were dark and intense, like she was trying to read his mind.

“You’ve certainly put in an annoying amount of effort.” Severus said coolly.

“You wouldn’t talk to me!” she shot back. “What else was I supposed to do?”

“Have you considered, out of all of the abysmally foolish things you’ve done over the past three days, that I did not want to talk to you?”

“Mum wanted me to.” Lily-thing said, very matter-of-factly.

What the fuck was he supposed to say to that? All of the rage, the itch he couldn’t scratch, the screaming chorus of “get it away shut the girl up” had gone from a raging inferno to smoldering ashes. Severus had been hellbent on scaring the brat into never looking in his general direction ever again, but the thought of what might’ve happened to Lily-thing if he hadn’t found her when he did absolutely terrified him, squashing his anger like a bug. Severus couldn’t even muster together enough annoyance to be angry about not being angry. He’d spent all afternoon brooding and planning, while Dumbledore lectured him on how important it was that Lily-thing grew up understanding that love was the most powerful form of magic. It was rather disappointing, after all the trouble Lily-thing had caused.

(the cold from the corridors still hadn’t left his bones)

Severus massaged his temple forcefully. “I’m sure your mother wanted a great deal of things for you.”

Lily-thing frowned. “You don’t sound like you were friends with her. Mum told me you were her best friend when you were kids.”

She WHAT —

“Did she?” Severus asked in a toneless voice. His head was throbbing, now. The night would undoubtedly end with a migraine, if not complete mental collapse. There was no world in which Severus desired to talk about his most precious secret with a child who represented everything he’d feared come to pass.

“Yeah,” Lily-thing crossed her arms. “she did. Why don’t you want to talk about her?”

Because I killed her, said an insidious voice in his head. Because I killed her and Potter and I almost killed you. I gave up everything and nothing and it still wasn’t enough.

Severus stayed silent, unable to articulate something that wouldn’t make the brat cry. It seemed that silence was just as bad as anything cruel he could have mustered together. Lily-thing’s face fell, like she’d been told Christmas had been canceled, but her eyes stayed bright and unwavering. Severus thanked any god listening that the girl had not inherited her mother’s eyes.

“No one ever wants to talk about them.” Lily-thing whispered, her breath hitching.

No, Severus wanted to scream at her. STOP —

Her eyes were glittering with an ache that Severus knew all too well. “I mean, Aunt Petunia hated Mum because she had magic, and Uncle Vernon is too stupid to think for himself sometimes, I think. I don’t really know, but he didn’t say much about Mum, only Aunt Petunia. Professor Dumbledore was really sad when he told him what happened to Mum and Dad, how they died and all, like that was all that mattered. Every time someone talks about them, it’s only about how they died, that they’re gone and how sad it all is. I know that, and I’m so sick of everyone telling me the same thing over and over. Why won’t anyone tell me about them? I just want to know what they were like. The pictures and even Mum’s letter, it’s —”

“Never enough,” Severus finished. His chest felt like it was made of lead.

Lily-thing’s eyes widened, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Yeah.”

Severus closed his eyes. “You want what the rest of us have, but you don’t understand it like we do. To know your parents was… to lose something more than just two people. We knew them — you did not. Perhaps it was for the best that you didn’t, because then you would have lost something insurmountable. To confront that is… incredibly difficult.”

When he looked up, Lily-thing was staring at the floor again, a look of deep concentration and thought on her thin face. “I never thought about it like that.”

“How could you?” Severus sighed impatiently. “You’ve never experienced true loss before.”

“Yeah but… I’ll never know, you know?” Lily-thing bit her lip. “What they were like, what parts of her are in me. Everyone says I look like Mum but… what else? That can’t be it. And now I can’t even reread what Mum’s said to me, because of the charm. Professor Flitwick said it only disappeared because I didn’t need it anymore, and I feel so horrible because I do need it, I need Mum and the protective magic says I don’t…”

She wiped at her eyes, but her voice was tight with the pang of longing and guilt. The sight was pitiful, if not heart-wrenching. Severus wouldn’t know, because he no longer had a heart. Something similar to one, though, told him that the girl was only acting out in the hopes of getting some scraps of information about Lily, since she’d named him in this blasted letter of hers. Severus still couldn’t comprehend a reason for her needing to emphasize a friendship that ended over a decade ago to her only child, but with Lily’s charm hiding it’s contents, he’d never find out exactly what had been said.

It was going to drive him mad, not knowing. It already had — and if Lily’s daughter kept crying… well, he’d need something stronger than a Calming Draught to get him through the next seven years.

“Let me see it.” Severus said heavily, gesturing for her to hand over the letter. He knew she had it. Lily-thing wasn’t the kind of child to leave sentimental shit laying about. She would carry that letter with her like an albatross around her neck.

Lily-thing gaped at him like a fish for a moment, before she collected herself and glared at him suspiciously. “You didn’t care about it the other night.”

“Miss Evans, you have brawled with a mountain troll, incited chaos in my classroom, injured one of your classmates, and been assigned two detentions since reading this letter. I’m sincerely afraid for the structural integrity of this school if you don’t get what you came here for.”

Her lips twitched as she wiped at her eyes. “You hate me, though.”

Severus considered this statement. He didn’t know the brat well enough to hate her, but she was certainly becoming a thorn in his side. Unfortunately, Lily-thing was the only reason he was at Hogwarts. He hated how meddlesome she was, and he hated her House, but Severus couldn’t say he loathed the brat just yet. There was still time for her to turn into her father, though. The thought upset him more than it should have.

“I do not hate you.” Severus said heavily. “You are, however, making it increasingly difficult not to.”

“Then why do you ignore me?” Lily-thing demanded.

“I ignore everyone.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t ignore the Slytherins.”

“It’s almost as if I’m their Head of House.” Severus said flatly. “I understand it must be a difficult concept to grasp.”

Lily-thing scowled. “You know what I mean.”

“Thankfully, I don’t, because it’s irreverent.”

She seemed to swallow whatever she wanted to retort with before replying. “You only talk to me when something… happens.”

Severus blinked at her, nonplussed. Dumbledore was right, the girl… expected certain things from him.

“Is that… because of Mum?” she asked in a voice that was a mixture of hope and resignation.

He quickly ran through the pros and cons of answering yes or no, and then ignoring the brat outright. If he gave Lily-thing what she wanted, maybe she would stop pestering him, but it could also be feeding the beast. Confirming that it was for Lily’s sake, however, would not give the girl any inclination that Severus felt any sort of personal connection to her, because he didn’t, and he never would.

“Yes,” Severus answered, and then he tensed as he waited for her response.

He wasn’t expecting the reaction he received. The girl looked away and wiped at her eyes furiously for a moment before she pulled the letter from her robe pockets, looking back and forth between the letter and desk hesitantly, like she was afraid it would grow teeth and eat the parchment. After a moment, she slammed it down, anxiety creeping into her thin face. Her eyes did not leave the letter, and Severus’ did not leave Lily-thing’s face as he reached for it.

She watched his face carefully, with a hunger that unsettled Severus. They were wild, like a forest made up of stars. Lily-thing fidgeted with her hands and leaned forward in her chair, so much so that it scraped forward, causing her to jump in surprise.

Severus opened the letter, and lowered his eyes to the familiar cursive that had once stained his hands, his notes, and the soles of his boots.

Where do we go when we walk on light?

The neat, tidy, secure little box inside his head imploded.

If Severus had a name for this thing roiling inside of his chest, clawing away at his insides and splinting his mind, it would not have mattered. If he could have, he’d have ripped it out of him and flung it somewhere dark; locked it away and thrown away the key. It was unbearable, to say the least. The words on the page were echoes of a friendship that had ended with the kingdom of childhood.

They were words Lily’s daughter never should have known. They were words only he would understand.

Something had crept into Lily-thing’s thin face that shone like starlight. Severus stared at her, trying to make sense of the child’s demeanor, but it was only fueling his rage, as if she’d doused an already burning building with gasoline.

Lily’s letter was not something Severus wanted, not something he could handle, not now, not ever. But why would Lily have used this, of all the Charms she could have placed for the girl to break? Unless the Charm was never meant to be broken, and the girl had made a mistake in showing Severus. There was no universe besides this one in which Severus would have known Lily and Potter’s spawn. If they had lived, they undoubtedly would have had a hoard of little Lily-thing monsters, and Severus would have dug himself a hole that led to the center of the Earth to get away from them all.

What was in this fucking letter that Lily desperately wanted to protect? What did the girl know?

Severus had to lock this down — he could not bear to be dragged back into the dark abyss that had threatened to swallow him whole ten years ago. Lily was dead, and Severus would do everything in his power to protect her daughter and destroy the Dark Lord, but whatever this was —

He couldn’t know. He didn’t want to know. It would only give rebirth to his grief, which had spent years crystallizing into the jagged shards of bone crushing, heartstopping, mind numbing guilt. It surged through him like a tsunami, growing in size every time.

His head felt like it was in a vice. He stood up, ready to throw the letter into the fire and be done with it for good, for the girl to shriek and scream and tell him that she hated him, but before he could, Lily-thing was suddenly in front of him, her eyes glowing like a solar eclipse.

She must’ve read the expression on his face and known he was about to do something terrible, awful, unforgivable. She was good at that.

"I know about Lily." said the girl. "That you loved her."

Severus froze mid-footfall. He felt as though he’d had the wind knocked out of him.

"She's my mum." her chin lifted, her eyes clear. "She wrote me this letter to tell me about you. You're the only person she really mentioned, but I guess that makes sense, since you're my father. Who else was she supposed to talk about?"

Something was tapping away at Severus’ shields, a claw scratching on glass, a hammer slamming into drywall, a Stunner to the chest. He could not — the room was spinning — the torches were too bright, like the moonlight outside, and everything was overwhelming him as he struggled to steady himself, because he would not would not would not —

He closed his eyes.

green eyes laughing at him laughing with him staring at him from across the room

and what do you think of Miss Evans, Severus?

James wasn’t nearly as deliberate at Ariel’s age

do you promise we’ll be friends forever best friends always friends

“She said you’re my dad.” Lily-thing’s voice did not waver. “She wanted me to know, said that… if I wanted to, I should tell you. And I do.”

She mentioned you I thought you’d want to know

Mum had magic

You said Aunt Petunia hated Mum because Mum had magic

Perhaps Lily meant it for James?

What do you think of Miss Evans, Severus?

He could see the pieces coming together, like a dome of multi-colored glass. The pressure in his head mounted, but he opened his eyes.

Severus stared at the girl, and she stared back. Her face was calm and collected, like she was relaying the weather, or something trivial and unimportant. The light in her eyes had grown though, bright and wide and unrelenting in the torchlight. They glowed a deep gold, echoing the colors of her House, with her red hair and gold flecked eyes. She did not look like Lily anymore, no, but someone else. Not Potter — he never would have kept his nerve like this, not with emotions this raw.

He turned around slowly, mechanically. There were no words he could possibly formulate to express his fury, his pain, his overwhelming, all-consuming need for her to stop, to cease speaking and to never do so again.

And then he remembered Dumbledore’s face in the staffroom, the insistent questions about what Severus thought of the girl.

Dumbledore knew.

The furnace that fueled his rage ignited, spreading faster than a forest fire.

Lily-thing pointed to the letter in his hands, inches away from the fireplace. “Read it, then, if you don’t believe me.” her eyes challenged him, goaded him, dared him. “You know the counter-spell, don’t you? That’s why you don’t want to read it. Mum knew you could keep the secret too, but that you had to read it for yourself to know the truth.”

“What you’re proposing is impossible.” Severus said, and the words hurt his throat on their way out. “Your mother stopped speaking to me after fifth year.”

“Mum Obliviated you. She said you wouldn’t remember.”

Lily across the pub with the werewolf what was she doing here she wasn’t SAFE

be careful who you invite into your soul, Severus

The floor had begun to tilt. Severus steadied himself on the desk. “She never would have —”

“You made her!” Lily-thing’s voice finally broke, like a quill snapping in two. “You made her Obliviate you ever seeing her. That’s why she couldn’t tell you before — before she died, okay? You saved her during some battle —”

Bellatrix’s maniacal cackle cutting through the air like a knife as Lily stumbled back, raising her hand over her eyes —

“ — and she said that you two talked. I don’t know much after that because she didn’t say a whole lot, but Dad knew too, he was protecting us.”

I’d wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus

Who wants to see me take off Snivellus’ trousers?

She’d never love someone like you

Severus almost laughed out loud, then. “Potter wouldn’t have lifted a finger to protect a child he knew was mine.”

He heard her breath catch in her throat. “He did, Mum said —”

“She was mistaken, then.” Severus said cruelly, but he knew that she wasn’t. Lily never would have made something this insane up for the hell of it, wouldn’t have told her only child, a child she’d died for, but it was impossible —

“She wanted you to know.” Lily-thing said, fists balling at her sides. “I wanted you to know, but I didn’t know how to tell you.”

There were tears forming in her eyes now, and it was with another wave of horror that Severus realized that the girl was going to cry again. He didn’t move, partly because he didn’t think he could. The heaviness in his chest was turning into something that burned like ice, an unmistakable pang throbbing in the back of his head, as though there were a hole there, something just out of reach, just out of touch that Severus couldn’t see.

“I wouldn’t lie about this!” Lily-thing said, her voice growing louder, the anger behind it building like water behind a dam. “Why would I? I didn’t want this!”

“Then why not keep it to yourself?” Severus sneered. Get it away shut it up get it AWAY.

She flinched, finally, like Severus had brandished a whip.

Her eyes had gone out, like a candle doused, and that was when Severus saw it, really and truly saw what the girl was talking about. They were fathomless, bottomless, sucking up whatever the girl had opened and set free in the room. The eyes were running away, hiding, escaping —

When she spoke, her voice was so soft that Severus had to strain his ears to hear.

“I never should have told you,” Miss Evans whispered. “I never should have let you see.”

The eyes —

The eyes —

Severus was sincerely afraid he was going to be sick. The room had begun to spin, the fire lashing at his skin as the floor rushed up —

When he looked up, the girl, and the letter, were gone.

To be continued...
End Notes:

A/N: The truth is out, hooray! Now we can begin the process of making Snape FEEL things. Mwahaha.

I did this chapter only from Snape’s POV for obvious reasons. Next chapter will be a little ~different~ but it’ll be a break from this little shitshow.

The inner-monologue about time being tricky is a modified quote from E.R Frank

Reviews are really super duper appreciated, and help a lot in terms of motivation! xx

Chapter 9: lily: part i by shostakobitch

Dumbledore’s door was open when Severus arrived, an ominous invitation hanging over the threshold.

He couldn’t feel his hands or feet. His heart slammed against his sternum like rainfall.

not possible she married Potter it's impossible

Only one source of light met Severus as he entered. The Pensive stood in the middle of the room, casting moving, unending shadows that swirled around him like a secret. Dumbledore stood beside it, as though he were a priest waiting for Severus to give confession. His eyes were the color of the Pensive’s shadows. A feeling in his chest like a fist was pulsing wildly as Severus tried to rationalize what was happening.

mum obliviated you she said you wouldn’t remember

you loved her

you made her

“You knew.” Severus tried to scream, but it came out hollow and quiet, like wind whistling through a log.

Dumbledore clasped his hands together tightly in front of him. “I did not know anything definitively.” he said, with a calmness that made Severus’ molars ache. “Ariel had Lily’s letter in her possession, so it was impossible to know for certain.”

Severus wanted to rip open the air in front of them and suck them both into it. He wanted to bend the fabric of time so he could break out of this reality and back into the one where Lily’s daughter left him alone, and Severus was no one’s father.

she said you’re my dad

you’re my father

“It’s not —” Severus tried to say, but he was quickly interrupted.

“Surely Severus, you recognize the eyes?” Dumbledore’s own were steely blue, the color of amethyst and the ocean during a storm.

I never should have told you I never should have let you see

bright eyes like the galaxy that housed stars

To have Dumbledore confirming this madness was almost too much to bear. Severus felt like he was stuck in a nightmare that kept stretching on and on, and any moment now, he’d awaken in his chambers, the girl’s detention a distant memory. Deep down, beneath the box where Lily was kept, in a place so dark and cold that it was unreachable to even him, Severus knew that Lily’s daughter and Dumbledore were telling the truth.

(he had killed Lily twice, now)

The moving shapes on the wall were becoming distorted as the room spun around him. Severus steadied himself on the bookcase beside the door and glared viciously at him. “Why not tell me, then? Why allow me to be blindsided?”

“You would not have accepted it, had it come from me. This was Ariel’s task, not mine.” Dumbledore finally looked away, his unrelenting stare moving to the Pensive. “I wrestled with the idea of telling you myself, but it was quite clear from Lily’s memories that she always intended for you to know based on Ariel’s own assessment of you.”

“She is a child!” Severus snarled.

“She is your child,” Dumbledore said solemnly. “and one you have vowed to protect at all costs. You already had a personal stake in her arrival to Hogwarts. However, I was uncertain if Ariel had actually read Lily’s letter. When Filius informed me that she was inquiring about it, I suspected that she’d been unable, but when you revealed that she already knew the contents, it was only a matter of time until Ariel told you herself. As I mentioned previously, your efforts at Petunia’s did not go unnoticed.”

“I am wholly unsuitable!” he looked around wildly for a route of escape, but something inside of him when rumbling to life, an overwhelming urge to look inside the Pensive and retrieve what he had unknowingly lost. “Even if the girl is mine, the very thought —”

“This type of rejection is what led Tom down a path he could not come back from.” Dumbledore said in a voice like iron — cold, hard, and heavy.

“The girl is not the Dark Lord.” Severus thought of the look of wonder in her eyes when she’d first gazed up at Hogwarts. She’d been missing a shoe after Apparating and had twigs sticking out of her hair, but she’d worn an expression of pure joy, like she was the luckiest girl in the world instead of spending almost her entire life stuffed inside of a cupboard, like an old sock. She was Lily’s daughter through and through.

“No, she’s not.” Dumbledore agreed. “She is moldable, though. She possesses an incredible capacity to love, not so different from the devotion you’ve shown her mother. That kind of ability can easily be turned into something dark and unreachable. You cannot allow her to fall victim to that. It’s imperative that Ariel grows up understanding that love transcends all else.”

“Lily would not have wanted a Death Eater to raise her only child.” Severus said through bloodless lips.

Dumbledore stared at him for a long time, as if he were a creature he’d never seen before. There was pity in his gaze, though, and an immense amount of sadness that Severus had seen in the girl’s face moments earlier. It curled around his heart like barbed wire, cutting away at him piece by piece.

“She has left you a memory,” Dumbledore finally said. “two, actually. I believe she wanted the second to be viewed by both you and Ariel — together. The first, however, was intended for you, Severus.”

He warily stepped towards the Pensive

and prepared himself to face his sins.

———

8 December, 1979

It was bitterly cold for a winter day in Hogsmeade. Sure, it was always cold this far north in Scotland, but something was different about today that chilled Lily to the bone.

It was a welcome distraction to think about the cold again. It had been only a few months since Lily had been to Hogsmeade, but it brought back a familiarity that Hogwarts and school had always held in her mind, and in her heart. James and Sirius, flying into the Quidditch store the second they arrived, leaving Lily and Remus to roll their eyes after them. Peter had always stood there, looking torn between who he’d rather go with. Usually, it was James, but Peter had been acting rather strangely towards their final days as students and had resigned himself to the Gryffindor common room to study instead of accompanying them on their weekend outings. Lily didn’t blame him. All of the things happening were too scary to face, unless you had to.

Lily pushed the thought away from her mind. The wind bit at her heels as she picked up her pace and headed for the Hog’s Head. As she entered the pub, the warm air and cacophony of voices hit her senses, and for a moment, she was a student again. But reality soon settled in as several unfamiliar faces turned to look at the new patron, and it was then that Lily remembered that she was in the middle of a war and not a doey-eyed school girl. But then again, had she ever been one?

He was sitting in the farthest corner, away from all the people and with his head down, though he lit up at the sight of her. It didn’t hide the bags under his eyes or the mess of hair atop his head. Even in the dimness of the pub’s light, Lily could sense the weariness radiating from him like solar flares.

“You’re not taking care of yourself again, Remus.” Lily sighed as she slid into the chair across from him. “It’s only been a week since I’ve last seen you and you already look worse. Can’t I trust James to take care of you?”

“If anyone needs to be taken care of, it’s James.” Remus smiled, though it was a sad one that didn’t quite reach his kind, grey eyes.

“Don’t you start.” Lily warned. “We’re talking about you right now, Remus Lupin.”

“He’s lost without you, Lily.”

“He asked me to marry him, Remus.” Lily rolled her eyes. “You act as though he asked if he was allowed to buy a dog. Stop trying to change the subject. How’re you feeling?”

He sighed, a heavy sound that folded over them like a blanket. “You can say no, you know. Or at least, no for right now.”

Oh, she knew she could. Quite frankly, Lily had contemplated saying it right then and there when James had asked – bent down on one knee, his hazel eyes gazing up at her, burning for the “yes,” that hadn’t come as naturally as Lily had thought it would. But they were only eighteen, for Merlin’s sake, and while she knew that she loved James, she didn’t know if it was enough for her right now. With the recent death of her parents and a war raging on around her where people like Lily were being targeted, marriage seemed very, very tempting, a safety net that would have caught her just as she’d fallen, and she felt very comfortable falling with James.

But she hadn’t, and so Lily had gently told James that she needed time to think, time apart from him for a while. And so she and Remus, who had turned out to be her closest companion during these past three years, met up weekly, where he would try and convince her to talk to James, and Lily would try and convince him to take better care of himself. Honestly, what was Sirius doing? Why wasn’t he helping?

That was a stupid question. He was probably doting on James, who stopped functioning when hit with any sort of negative emotion. James would fold like a house of cards, which made having any sort of productive conversation with him near impossible. It frustrated Lily to no end, because her temper was explosive, and every time it ignited James would simply apologize. It drove Lily mad, not being able to argue with him. You had to argue about things, or else, nothing would be resolved.

Lily didn’t answer Remus, partly because she didn’t want to, and because she didn’t know how to answer.

Instead, she reached a hand across the table and took Remus’ in hers. “How are you? Really?”

“I’m fine, Lily.” Remus sighed, squeezing her hand before pulling away. “I’m about the same… maybe a little more tired than usual. With all these missions Dumbledore has us going on, I don’t get as much sleep as I’d like to, but that doesn’t matter with everything that’s happening…”

“Of course it matters!” she frowned. “Remus, if you need a break, I’m sure someone else could take over.”

“I’m fine.” he shook his head and gave a soft chuckle. “Really, I’d rather be busy helping than sitting around and waiting for James and Sirius to get back. I’d go mad.”

“How do you think I feel?” Lily grumbled, crossing her arms tightly across her chest and looking out the window. “One battle so far, and I was barely there for ten minutes.”

“That much?” Remus echoed. “Lily, Bellatrix sent a Killing Curse whizzing past your head!”

“Avada Kedavra!” a high pitched voice cackled from her right, and Lily dove out of the way just in time as a ray of green light hit the wall she’d just been standing in front of.

“Come on, witch bitch!” Bellatrix cackled, pointing her wand down at Lily, whose chest heaved up and down as she glared up at her. She was the only one not wearing a mask, the rest of the Death Eaters silent and white-faced, like ghosts. Bellatrix’s ice-blue eyes locked onto Lily’s green, and just as both the witches went to raise their wands again, something unexpected happened.

“Stupefy!” a voice bellowed, and Bellatrix went flying through the air, several feet away from Lily, who had kneeled over. She scrambled to her feet, looking at the now unconscious bundle of black robes and hair, and wondered if she should try and arrest her, or wait for an Auror.

“Go!” the same voice snapped, causing Lily’s head to whip around in search of the person it belonged to.

Her wand went up when a figure stepped out the shadows, a Death Eater mask covering his face and wand lowered. The tip still glowed red from the Stunner.

Lily recognized that voice anywhere.

“Severus?” she croaked.

“Lily?” James’ frantic voice called from somewhere, “Lils, are you alright?”

She turned in the direction James’ voice, and the masked man Apparated away –

Lily hadn’t told James or Remus or anyone else in the Order who had saved her. She’d simply told them that someone’s stray Stunner had done the job, though it was of little use in the end. Another Death Eater had grabbed the unconscious Bellatrix and Apparated away before anyone could put her in a Body Bind.

Lily thought about it a lot more than she probably should be. She’d even begun to dream about it. It was horrifying enough knowing that her ex-best friend had joined Voldemort, but it was nothing compared to the confusion that clouded her already flustered mind. If Severus wanted to fight against the Order and help Voldemort, then why bother saving her? If Voldemort won, Lily would most likely be killed – or worse. She’d heard the way Mulciber and Avery jeered at her during seventh year. James and Sirius had nearly Hexed them bloody before Remus and her dragged them away, but her old friend had never once done that. Severus had avoided her like the plague since the day she’d refused to forgive him. That didn’t excuse the fact that he’d actually gone and become one of them… but why had he saved her? What did he have to gain from that?

“I know, I know… I just feel like I could be doing more.” Lily sighed, leaning forward on her elbows and looking out the fogged up window as she tried to clear her mind. “You know me, Remus. I can’t sit still for long.”

“It’s been quiet.” Remus ducked his head and leaned towards her, all traces of lightheartedness suddenly gone from his grey eyes. “It’s not that Dumbledore isn’t using you… You-Know-Who’s on the low again. We don’t know why, but it can’t be good. There’s been talk of bigger attacks being planned on the Ministry… more people disappearing…”

“Then I should know!” Lily snapped. “Why isn’t anyone telling me anything? Is it James? Is he trying to protect me?”

Remus hesitated, and she stood up, suddenly furious.

“Oh, come on now, Lils!” Remus pleaded, grabbing the sleeve of her jumper. “He’s scared senseless for you! You know he just wants to see you safe, and since you’re not together, he just wants to make sure nothing happens that he could have prevented.”

“I can take care of myself!” Lily all but shouted. Several patrons turned to look, giving her wary glares, which caused her to sit back down. She scowled and turned away from Remus, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

“I know.” Remus sounded exasperated. “He loves you, Lily, and love makes people do things without thinking. Don’t be mad at him. If things get bad again, I’m sure you’ll be called.”

“He just had to go and ask me to marry him.” Lily fell back into her seat and buried her face in her hands. “He had to go and complicate things. For Merlin’s sake, we’re only eighteen, Remus! What is this – 1790? I… I can’t think about something like that right now!”

“Yes, imagine that.” Remus rolled his eyes. “A man loves you and wants to spend the rest of his life with you. What a notion.”

“Shut up. You know what I mean.”

“I do.” He sighed, crossing his arms in front of him and leaning forward. “Listen, I’m not saying you need to give him an answer. Hell, I’m not saying you have to marry the poor bloke. But reach out to him, let him know how you’re doing. I can hear him pacing his room at night. It’s starting to drive Padfoot mad.”

Lily sighed. She wondered if and when things got better, she would wonder why she drove herself mad over all these dilemmas. Or maybe she was destined to be conflicted all the time. Indecision could be deadly, though. Lily had seen it during battle, how even the slightest pause could seal your fate.

Lily shuddered, pushing the thought away from her. Death was too real to think about, even if it was preventative thinking.

“I don’t want to get married in the middle of a war, Remus.” she muttered, looking back out the window and the wind swirling the fallen snow outside. “I do love him… I just don’t know if I love him enough to say yes.”

It was true. Lily couldn’t deny that the arrogant little toerag she’d been battling since first year had finally won her over once he’d matured and stopped attacking a certain Slytherin every chance he’d gotten. Once she’d gotten to know him, Lily had realized that James was just what she needed after the day that same Slytherin had called her a Mudblood – simple. He loved unconditionally and wholeheartedly. There was no fighting, no days of wondering who would break the silence first, no wondering what the other was thinking. Of course, perhaps that was one-sided, because some days James really didn’t seem to understand certain aspects of her. Meanwhile Lily got him perfectly. Sweet, uncomplicated James —

“He knows that, too.” Remus’ eyes lowered themselves to the tabletop. “Lily, you can’t just keep avoiding the fact that –”

His eyes snapped up suddenly, widening as Lily’s own shone with confusion at his sudden change in demeanor. He reached into the pocket of his robes, extracting a blue stone each member of the Order had been given in case of emergency. It vibrated and turned pink when the holder was needed. Lily had almost forgotten just how brightly it shined, for hers hadn’t lit up in weeks.

“I have to go.” Remus stumbled out of his chair as Lily let out a frustrated cry.

“Unbelievable!” she snarled, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. Lily fell back against the chair with an angry huff.

“I’m sorry, Lily.” he apologized clumsily as he buttoned his cloak around him, giving her cheek a quick peck before rushing past her. “I’ll Floo you later.”

“Be careful!” Lily called after him, wishing she could have hugged him before he left. Remus hated being touched… or rather, he was afraid of people touching him because of his condition. Sirius constantly teased him about it, pointing out that you couldn’t catch “werewolf cooties,” but Lily knew it went deeper than that. Remus like a boarded up well — there was so much depth there, but you couldn’t get past the opening to see further down.

Lily stood, ready to storm home and sulk for the rest of the day. She wrapped her cloak tightly around her, eyeing flitting to the other side of the pub, nearly missing the very person she’d been thinking so much about the past few weeks.

His obsidian eyes met hers, and Lily’s heart skipped a beat.

Immediately her first instinct was to get the hell out of there, but for a terrifying moment, Lily wondered if it might be too late. How long did she have before Death Eaters swooped in and dragged her away? Or maybe he would kill her right then and there. After all, she was a Muggleborn, and a part of the Order to boot. How many times had the Slytherins at school told her she was way, way out of line, that she was too naive to notice how far out of bounds she really was?

And then there was the question of how long he had been here. Had he already been here when she came in? Had she seen Remus leave? Oh god —

An odd tugging at the back of her mind snapped her back to the present and made Lily realize that she’d been staring dumbly back at him. Her heart began to beat to a new rhythm of panic. Lily held his gaze for what seemed like an eternity, and when nothing happened, she let out the breath she’d been holding in. She simply stood there, watching, until his lips twitched at the ends and he finally turned back around towards what she assumed was his drink.

Lily’s temper immediately ignited, like lightning striking a tree in the middle of a forest. Was there something funny about her being scared out of her wits at the sight of him that she was missing? Though Lily wasn’t quite sure she was fearful… the last time she’d seen Severus Snape, it had been on their last trip home on the Hogwarts Express, and they hadn’t spoken for two years before that. Not since the night she’d turned him away at Gryffindor Tower and something had begun eating away at her. She hadn’t even known Severus was really a Death Eater until he saved her. James and Sirius had their suspicions, but they’d never been able to prove anything.

No matter — Lily found herself determined to find out what his deal was before contemplating if antagonizing a Death Eater was a good idea or not. Between being frustrated at James and the Order and her recent ponderings over Severus, Lily was done wondering. It was time to get some bloody answers for once.

She stormed over to the bar, throwing herself onto the stool beside her oldest friend, who looked very taken aback at her sudden boldness. She needed a drink to get through this. She’d needed one for a while now, actually — some liquid courage would make this much easier, anyway.

“Firewhiskey.” Lily told the bartender, who raised an eyebrow at her. She raised one right back, biting the inside of her cheek, only lowering it once he began to pour a glass. She glanced at Severus, finding that his own eyebrow was reaching his forehead, though he looked less confused and a lot more curious now.

“Would you like one?” Lily gestured with her hands to the drink placed in front of her sarcastically, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she took her first sip. It burned her throat, but in a good way.

His lips pursed together, but Severus still did not speak.

“Fine, be that way.” Lily gulped the rest of it down, sliding the glass back towards the bartender, who seemed reluctant to serve her another. “I can take a hint.”

“I haven’t said anything.” Severus finally said, the familiar silk of his voice causing a shiver to go down her spine.

“You don’t need to.” she quipped, downing half of the second glass. “Actions do speak louder than words.”

He stiffened at this, sitting up straighter in the stool, before he pushed away from the bar, making the wooden legs screech against the stone floor. His raven hair fell around his thin jawline, like a thick curtain, barely covering the flash of betrayal on his face.

“Going back to your friends, then?” Lily called quietly, sobering up immediately. She didn’t know why, but a part of her ached at the idea of him leaving.

Severus’ back was turned to her. He stopped dead in his tracks at her words.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he said in a low voice.

“I’m not an idiot, Severus.” Lily muttered, staring at the wall in front of her. The bartender had gone off to the opposite end, leaving them both alone and tense at the farthest corner of the bar. “I may be a Mudblood,” he turned around at this, black eyes widening as Lily took another sip of firewhiskey. “but I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t…” Severus swallowed loudly and turned back around. “I don’t consider you to be either of those things, Lily.”

“Really? Because Bellatrix and Macnair sure seem to think so. You know them, don’t you? You’re all good friends, from what I’ve seen.”

His nostrils flared angrily, hands balling at his side, but Lily met his furious scowl with her own. She knew it was borderline suicidal to provoke him like this, that he could easily take her life with the flick of his wand, or call others to come and take her. But she had so many questions for him, and now that she had found him all alone, they nearly clawed their way up her throat. Part of her wondered what the hell she was doing, mocking a Death Eater, but she could see little flashes of her Sev behind the man he had become –

“Bellatrix Lestrange and Walden Macnair are not my fucking friends.” he hissed, his hooked nose suddenly inches away from hers.

“Well, maybe not Bellatrix.” Lily replied coldly, holding his gaze. “After all, I don’t think friends Stun one another in order to save the enemy, now do they?”

Severus leaned away, and Lily could tell she’d caught him off guard. She suppressed a triumphant smirk, realizing that this might be the first time she’d ever done so. He’d always been quick when they were kids. She’d never been able to pull one over on him, Severus had always been clever like that.

He sighed and shook his head slightly, slumping back onto the stool Lily had originally found him om. “You know, I used to think the reason you hated me so much is because you didn’t get me. And I think maybe I was right.” raw anger and hurt leaked into his voice. “You really don’t know me at all.”

“I don’t hate you.” Lily murmured, eyes trained on the still busy bartender. “I’ve never hated you, and if you think that, then you don’t know me very well either.”

Severus’ eyes met hers, and it was then that Lily realized that the hungry looked he had so often gazed upon her with when they were kids had manifested itself on his face again. It had once fascinated her, made her wonder, even, but now, it frightened Lily.

“I shouldn’t be here.” Severus breathed, his glare turning to the other bar patrons, who had begun to watch them with an unsettling curiosity. “I should go…”

“You could at least explain yourself.” Lily pushed the drink towards him in invitation, gesturing with her eyes. “I’d like to know why you saved my life.”

“How do you know it was me?” the arched, skeptical eyebrow was back, though he was still tensed, as though he were wound up and ready to spring away any second.

“Right.” she nodded, as though she were deep in thought. “I never considered the possibility of it being Lucius Malfoy.”

Severus’ lip curled.

“I do deserve an answer.” Lily continued. “You ignore me for two years and then —”

“I ignored you?” his nostrils flared. “I… I begged you to forgive me, Lily! You ran off with fucking Potter –”

“You called me a Mudblood!” she snapped back, “And then you joined the very people who’d love nothing more than to kill me! What the hell else was I supposed to do? Throw you a parade? You were acting like a prick, and I couldn’t stand it anymore. You — you called me that awful word in front of half the school!”

“And you said that you could never like a simpleton like Potter!” Severus snarled. “And now you’re going to marry him!”

“That’s none of your business!” she wondered how he knew that. She’d said no… how the hell –

“And what I do is none of yours.” Severus shot back with a precision like an arrow. “You couldn’t possibly understand — you never wanted to! I deserved every bit of what you said to me the last time we spoke, you’re right, but don’t you dare act like I would have just given up on our friendship. You know I never would have if you’d given me another chance.”

Lily let her hurt show at this, though she didn’t know why. He was right – they hadn’t been friends for nearly three years now. Why should she care about what Severus decided to do with the rest of his life?

Because it stung knowing that her best friend wanted her dead —

“I guess I don’t understand you, Severus.” Lily said quietly, all her previous swagger and bravery gone, leaving her with nothing but an aching sadness and longing. “Why you would save someone who You-Know-Who thinks is worthless is beyond me. I wanted to know why you did it, is all.”

His mouth was partially opened, and a thin, pale hand inched its way toward her before it fell back to his side. He sighed and rubbed his temple, as though harboring a headache.

“I have a room.” said Severus in a weary voice. “It’s nearby if you wish to… to talk.”

Lily blinked. “You’re inviting me up to your room?”

“Not like that.” his face went red and she fought the overwhelming urge to giggle at this. “We… Lily, it’s dangerous. If the wrong person were to walk in and see us… I’d do what I could, but I… I’d be more comfortable speaking if we were out of the public eye.”

“Where?”

“Across the street.”

“Fine.” she hopped up, extending her hand to him, who eyed it as though it were a kind of foreign object. “Let’s go to your room, then.”

———

This was not what Severus had been expecting. All he’d wanted was a fucking drink, and now Lily Evans was climbing the stairs to his room with him. He’d been stationed here by the Dark Lord to keep an eye on the school, and Hogwarts. Sometimes, Dumbledore wandered down from the castle late at night, most of the time to see his brother. It was hard to accept that those two were in any way related — Aberforth spoke to the goats the same way Dumbledore addressed his students. It was… disturbing, but that was the only eventful thing that happened in Hogsmeade, which was why Severus had decided that a drink was the only way he was going to get through another long night of watching and doing nothing until he was Called again.

“Why’re you staying here?” Lily asked as they strode down the hall, Severus searching his cloak for his key. “You have a house, don’t you?”

“You know as well as I do that I hate that shithole.” he shoved the key into the hole, and threw the door opening, jerking his head at her to get inside. She hesitated for a moment, like she was just now having second thoughts, but lifted her chin and strode inside.

Severus rolled his eyes and followed after her, locking the door behind him.

Lily stood in the center in the room, taking it in, Severus presumed, as he took off his cloak and dropped the keys on the table beside the door. It wasn’t much – a bed, a chest, a desk, two nightstands, and his own bathroom. The room smelt strongly of mothballs, but Severus didn’t care enough to complain to the staff. He was barely here.

Outside, it had begun to sleet steadily. He wouldn’t be surprised if it turned into a full blown blizzard by morning.

“How’s your mum?” Lily asked quietly, taking Severus completely off guard.

He blinked back. “I… fine, I suppose. I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh.” her eyebrows knitted together. “Why’s that?”

“She went to live with a relative after I finished Hogwarts. She left me the house.”

Lily’s eyebrows hit her forehead. “She just… left?”

“She had told me she would stay until I finished school.” Severus said flatly. “There was no need for her to linger.”

She still looked troubled by this. “I’m… sorry.”

He snorted. “Don’t be.”

“Well, I am.” Lily looked away. “I can’t imagine if my mum had…”

Severus heard the breath hitch in her throat and felt his chest squeeze in sympathy – the kind he thought he’d lost long ago. The kind he was to have forgotten the day he’d taken the Dark Mark.

do you swear your devotion Severus your unwavering loyalty your mind and body

“I heard about the accident.” Severus said quietly. “I was sorry to hear it.”

“Thanks.” Lily cleared her throat. “I heard your dad —”

“Let’s not bring him into this.”

“I know you never cared much for him, but it still must’ve —”

“He was a miserable bastard.” Severus waved her away. “He got what he deserved.”

Lily flinched at his callousness, and he wondered if she’d forgotten just how little he cared for anyone but her – no, she must have, because when she’d first looked back at him in the bar, her eyes had widened in fear and she’d tensed to bolt –

“I’m still sorry.” said Lily quietly. “I wanted to go to the funeral, but…”

“It would have been a waste of your time.” said Severus coldly. “It was certainly a waste of mine.”

He could see her response on the tip of her lips, the words whizzing into the air between them – that’s a horrid thing to say, Severus, he’s your dad! Lily restrained herself, however, her reluctance clearly written all over her face. Her nose scrunched up, and blush in her cheeks deepened.

“I still would’ve liked to have been there for you.” Lily muttered, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Be there for me?” Severus scoffed. “For my fucking father? He was a walking corpse, Lily. Save your pity.”

She went fuchsia. “It’s called being a good fr – person, Severus.”

He barked a cold laugh. “Go ahead – say it.”

“Say what?”

Severus could feel the tension in the air as if he could reach out and touch it. “Friend. We haven’t been friends for years, Lily. Why should you, of all people, care?”

She flinched, and he winced as a look of fresh hurt spread over her face. The green in her eyes was so dim that it looked like moss. Lily bit her lip and rubbed at her eyebrow – she’d used to pick at them when she’d been stressed at school. One day, she’d come down to the Great Hall with half of the right one missing before their first OWL exam.

“I’ve joined the Order.” Lily leveled her stare with his. She’d never been intimidated once they both became heated.

Severus inhaled deeply through his nose. “I know.”

“I know you know.” Lily huffed, crossing her arms. “You saw me that night —”

“Don’t,” he snarled.

“– and you saved me.” she went on, ignoring him. “I came up here because I want you to tell me why.”

Severus had replayed that night in his head over and over until he’d made himself sick. He’d turned away from dueling some Order member he hadn’t recognized, the moonlight reflecting off of her scarlet hair catching his attention. When he’d realized it was Lily, a rage so strong and so vicious had overcome him – why was she here, what the fuck was Albus Dumbledore thinking, putting her in a battle –

She would have volunteered, because this was Lily, and her life mattered little to her if others depended on it. Of fucking course she’d joined the Order. Every battle Severus fought was spent combing the crowd for her, for her voice, for the flash of red.

His heart had choked him, beating hard and fast in the center of his throat. There was a satisfied smirk on Lily’s face as she dueled another Death Eater. Severus could barely make out the mask, but quickly found that it was Reg. He’d shot a Stunner at the Order member, sending him crashing against the wall, when Severus had caught Bellatrix creeping up behind Lily –

Severus’ heart ached as Lily waited for his answer.

“It doesn’t matter.” he said tonelessly. “What’s done is done.”

Lily stared back at him in blatant disbelief for a long moment, and then, she exhaled sharply. Her face went so white that the freckles on the bridge of her nose disappeared.

“It — doesn’t — matter?” Lily fumed, her volume increasing with every word. “Doesn’t MATTER? Stop being such a pill, Severus Snape!”

“You don’t know anything about me!” Severus snarled back. “You don’t know why I do the things I do… you can’t possibly –”

“Really? Because there was a time when you said you thought I was the only one who ever could!”

“That was before you told me you never wanted to see me again.” she remembered that she remembered.

“You became what I was afraid of!” Lily shouted, and the sound twisted his insides. “How could I continue to be your friend when you were going down a path I couldn’t follow? You… you called me –”

“You ended our friendship because you couldn’t handle it.” Severus sneered, feeding into his pain, because that was all that Lily had left him, and it was useless. “But you could handle Potter, with his simple life and kind words and galleons galore –”

“How dare you!” her voice made the hair stand up on his arms. “You don’t know anything about James, or me, or our relationship, for that matter!”

“He asked you to marry him – I’d say I know just enough.”

“And I said no, you arse!”

Lily had stood, her fists balled tightly at her sides. She didn’t seem to bother trying to hide the fact that she was trembling. Severus felt like he had just taken a Stunner to the chest.

“What? What are you – why?” Severus asked, feeling extremely stupid, the way he always did where Lily was concerned. She possessed the extraordinary talent of catching him completely off guard at times.

Lily fell back onto the bed, and buried her face with her hands. “I… I don’t know.”

“You don’t… know.”

“How the hell did you even hear?” Lily gave him a one-eyed glare. “Who the hell told you that?”

“Regulus.” Severus said flatly. “Black saw him briefly — he mentioned it in passing.”

“Of course he did.” she muttered. Her face was buried in her hands, and Severus could tell she was crying.

Guilt crashed into him all at once, wrapping itself around his windpipe and squeezed. It shouldn’t have fucking mattered if Lily was still with Potter or not – she was right; they hadn’t been friends for nearly two years now. He was such an idiot, bringing him up at all, when he himself was the hypocrite, a Death Eater, a servant to the Dark Lord, standing in a bedroom inn with Lily Evans, who was staring at him like she wanted Severus to break in two.

“Merlin, Severus…” Lily sighed, her breath hitching.

“My apologies.” he ducked his head, unable to meet her eyes. “I shouldn’t have… you’re right. It’s none of my business who you…” he couldn’t finish the sentence. The thought was too unbearable.

Lily looked up, a look of puzzlement on her face. “You’re not… happy?”

Severus blinked. “Happy?”

“That I’m… not going to marry him. At least… not right now.” Lily wiped at her eyes. “I mean… Merlin, just look at me. I’m a wreck.”

“You’re clearly miserable without him.” Severus was incapable of keeping the bitterness out of his voice.

“I’ve been miserable for a lot longer than that.” Lily murmured. “I keep losing the people I care about.”

He took a cautious step away from the door, and towards her. “Lily…”

“I thought if you didn’t already,” said Lily. “that you’d hate me once I started dating James, and I did. I made myself believe that you must, because you were one of them, and I was with James, who you’d always despised. When you saved me all those months ago, it contradicted everything I made myself believe, and when James asked me to marry him I just… I couldn’t say yes, all of a sudden, even though I wanted to, because everything is so fucked –”

A strange sense of dread was creeping over Severus; one he didn’t want to confront. Lily swearing was never a good sign.

“I have never been your enemy.” he closed the gap in between them. “Surely you know that now… knowing what happened with Bellatrix.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“But I did.” his voice felt rough, like sandpaper. “For you.”

“But why?” Lily shook her head.

“Because I have never stopped being your friend.” Severus said in a very quiet voice.

Lily’s head lifted, her eyes watering. There was something in her face that hurt to look at, like wonder, or maybe it was pity. It was sharp and tangible, tainting the air around her. Lily had always worn her heart on her sleeve, and right now, she was radiating something that nestled beneath Severus’ heart. It was the same feeling he’d had when they’d laid beside the creek together for the first time, or when Lily had almost Hexed Potter’s nose off.

“How was I supposed to know that?” she sounded like she was asking herself, not him. “You’re a Death Eater, Severus… Merlin, you could bring me to You-Know-Who right now, and –”

“I’ve just told you,” Severus snapped, his heart racing. “I wouldn’t… I couldn’t—”

“Yes, I know, you’ve said it a million times already — and I believe you.” Lily said softly. Her eyes were like freshly watered cloves.

His hands had gone completely numb, but the part of him that still clung to reality, to that cold, dark place where his feelings did not exist made him swallow the tightness clogging his throat.

“And why,” Severus asked in a razor sharp voice, trying to cut through Lily’s kaleidoscope face, filled with too many things he didn’t understand. “would you do that?”

It was Lily’s turn to look bewildered. Severus leaned against the table by the door, watching her on the bed as she battled with herself. She’d always been an open book, her thoughts so easy to read as they flashed across her face. He couldn’t understand many of them, understand why they were there, that she was here –

“I don’t think you’re mad, and I don’t think you’re a psychopath.” Lily said, and Severus’ world began blurring around the edges. “I also don’t think you’re a sick, twisted monster. I don’t think you’re a heartless murderer, and I don’t think you deserve to die, and I don’t think you’re pathetic. Or stupid. Or a coward. I don’t think you’re any of the things people have said about you… about what you must be because you’re a Death Eater.”

“Why?” Severus whispered, an overwhelming feeling of panic flooding through him. He had to leave, this was… unfathomable and nonsensical and –

Lily looked straight at him, her gaze telling him to look back, and Severus had no choice but to obey. “Because I know you’re still in there – that Sev is still somewhere, deep down. I could see him slipping away when we were in school, and it terrified me, because if I couldn’t save him… I felt like a failure as a friend because of that, not because I had to let you go.”

“You didn’t have to –”

“I did, Sev.” Lily stared at him with such sincerity that it made his skin feel raw, like he was being buried in the sleet outside.

“I’ve… never regretted something as much,” said Severus. “as that day.”

Lily visibly tensed. “Not even being a Death Eater?”

He had always known he was a man built to fall – that he wouldn’t be handed anything, like Potter. And after all the sorrows Severus had seen, in the few, measly months he’d been a Death Eater, they’d led him to believe that it wasn’t just him, but that everything was in chaos. Lily had kept him grounded, and still, in that pathetic way, he lived on her scraps of memories she’d left behind in her wake. Severus didn’t regret becoming a Death Eater, no, but he did not treasure or hold his position in esteem either. Nothing mattered, no matter how hard Severus tried to fill that void.

“I became a Death Eater,” Severus rasped. “because I was nothing after you.”

———

To be continued...
End Notes:

A/N: I’ll let your imaginations take over what happened from here on out.

I realize this is a… controversial chapter, in many respects. I really battled with myself over putting it here, but please remember that everyone is open to how they interpret this. I think it was important to show what happened to create this AU. After all, if you’re here this far, Ariel wouldn’t be here without this meeting. Obviously, Snape remembers none of it until now, but it’s nice to have a break from the ensuing storm of Snape Having to Feel Things.

Also ” I know that this is Lily’s memory, and we got some Severus POV, but I took some creative liberty. It’s a flashback, it’s all the same, anyway.

And for everyone asking, yes, this is one of the memories in the vial Dumbledore took from Lily’s trunk.

The lil monologue Lily gave is a quote from Tahereh Mafi.

Chapter 10: the veil opens by shostakobitch

Ariel lay in her bed the next morning, uncertain of how she’d gotten there.

There was an ache in her jaw that resembled the one in her heart. Her thoughts were muddled, but she could remember the edges of a dream so real, it felt like a tangible memory. A dream of a woman standing in front of a mirror, staring into it like there was another world on the other side —

Something loud clattered to the floor, jolting Ariel fully awake. “Owww, Parvati!”

“Sorry! I know it’s in here somewhere, Mummy packed it for me…”

Ariel shot up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she surveyed the room, trying to pinpoint what had so rudely awoken her. Unsurprisingly, it was Lavender and Parvarti rummaging through their trunks. It was Saturday, but that didn’t stop them from waking up early to do their hair. They’d learned a new curling technique with their wands, and while Lavender’s hair was already curly, she’d taken to trying to make hers look more like Parvati’s — longer and bouncier instead of tiny little ringlets. Ariel couldn’t understand for the life of her why they’d want to change their hair when it already looked so beautiful. She would have killed to have hair like them.

She turned her gaze to the edge of the bed, where Hermione lay, who was also sleepily trying to figure out what all the noise was about. Last night felt like a hurricane of thoughts, blurs of sentences and faces, but Ariel did remember trying to strangle out everything to Hermione. She’d realized about halfway through that she wasn’t making much sense, and then, she’d cried out of sheer frustration, and then must’ve fallen asleep.

Ariel threw the covers off as Hermione’s head turned sharply towards her. Their eyes met for a second, Hermione’s already full of worry and questions, but instead of saying something to reassure her, Ariel grabbed the letter from underneath the mattress, and marched towards her trunk to change. She’d fallen asleep in her clothes from yesterday, which was an impossibly icky feeling.

Lavender and Parvati looked up from their morning routine, their faces quickly smoothing over at Ariel’s emergence. Lavender still hadn’t forgiven Ariel (who still hadn’t apologized) and Parvati would stand by her until she got one, just like Hermione would do for Ariel.

It was when the cold silence didn’t last that Ariel realized she probably looked as bad as she felt.

“Oh my,” Lavender gasped, looking her up and down. “what happened to your eyes?”

She didn’t know what it was — usually the other girls’ comments about her appearance didn’t bother her — but Ariel wasn’t having it this morning.

“A horrible, deadly curse.” Ariel snapped back. “It’s highly contagious.”

Both their jaws dropped to the floor in shock. Ariel stormed into the loo before Parvarti could interject with something that would sound like mediation. Lavender was still mad at her, and while Ariel knew that this was only going to be a third nail in her coffin, she couldn’t find it in herself to care much. She saw what they were talking about after looking in the mirror — her eyes had dark circles, and the whites of her eyes were bloodshot, probably from all the crying.

then why not keep it to yourself

she was mistaken

Ariel wished the darkness that had chased her would come back and swallow her whole. If she’d known how badly Snape was going to react, she never would have even considered telling him the truth. She remembered the look on Snape’s face when he’d read Mum’s Charm, and the primal instinct that had overcome her to stop him from doing whatever he was about to do.

The Something in Snape’s eyes had stared back at her for the first time, naked and cruel, and Ariel had known that The Something was pure, unadulterated terror.

Fear made people do awful things. Ariel knew firsthand, from the Dursleys.

The door to the loo opened as Ariel began splashing cold water on her face. Hermione stood beside it, biting her lip as if she didn’t know what to say. She wrung her hands in her nightgown, nervously looking around the bathroom, like the tile was whispering secrets to her. Behind her, Ariel could hear harsh whispers of “she didn’t mean that” and “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

“Is it really that bad?” Ariel muttered. “I feel like I got run over by a herd of hippogriffs.”

“No,” Hermione shook her head, but Ariel could tell she was lying. “it doesn’t matter, anyway. You had a long night.”

Ariel snorted, wincing as she took in her hair. It looked like a deformed rose bush, ornery and twisted around her head like some sort of demented crown. She really, really needed a shower.

“Don’t mind her.” Hermione pleaded, a scowl pinching her face together. “Lavender can be such a — a cow.”

“I’m not,” Ariel shot back. “I don’t care what she thinks.”

(she did)

“Good.” Hermione nodded in approval, looking relieved. “I don’t think she realizes what she’s saying half the time.”

Ariel shrugged, pretending not to care. Up until this point, there was only one person who’s approval had mattered, but it had gone down the toilet after last night. Ariel wanted to smash her head against the mirror.

“Are you okay?” Hermione asked softly, placing a hesitant hand on her shoulder. Her brown eyes searched Ariel’s, but she could tell that Hermione was having trouble reading her. She wasn’t a book, after all. Words were unreliable, too, the same way people were. She remembered Snape’s face in the torchlight, twisted and haggard, his voice so deep that it didn’t have a bottom —

“I think I’ve made a mistake.” Ariel whispered, swallowing the rock in her throat. It gripped at her like an electrical current. “I should never have said anything to him. I don’t know what Mum was thinking.”

Hermione was silent for half a beat. “Was it… I mean, you were in a right state last night, but was it really that bad?”

you want what the rest of us have

lost something insurmountable

your mother stopped speaking to me after fifth year

Snape’s reaction had felt a lot like betrayal, but Ariel wouldn’t really know, because she’d never had her trust broken before. There had never been anyone to trust, before Hogwarts. The Dursleys had never trusted her with anything more than the cleaning and cooking, and even then, Ariel had always been heavily scrutinized and critiqued on how well she’d done them. Aunt Petunia was constantly convinced that Ariel was going to mess up on purpose to make their lives miserable, as if Ariel’s existence didn’t already. All of the other adults in Ariel’s life had been teachers, but Aunt Petunia had warned them so much about her that they were wary of her even before she’d met them. Dumbledore had been the first adult to show her real kindness, besides Snape, but he only pretended to care because of her mum.

The thought made her feel very small when it shouldn’t have. Ariel didn’t blame Snape, but the rejection stung a lot more than she’d anticipated, if she’d bothered to anticipate it in the first place. She felt so bloody stupid for not realizing that Snape wouldn’t want anything to do with her, even if he was her biological father. A leopard couldn’t change it’s spots. Snape was a git, and he was always going to be a git.

Have some fire, Mum had said. She’d never mentioned what to do if Ariel got burned.

“Yeah,” Ariel said dully. “it was.”

Hermione looked like she’d bitten into a rotten lemon. “How bad?”

She turned away from the sink, wondering if she should tell Hermione the truth, or downplay it. It wasn’t going to change what had happened, but Ariel couldn’t help but feel ashamed. What did it say about her that her only living parent wanted nothing to do with her? Snape had been horrified.

“I don’t think he believed me.” Ariel decided on — it wasn’t a total lie. She wasn’t sure if Snape was in total denial, or if he was saying it to discourage her. Either way, it had worked.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “Why not? Did he read the letter? I mean, I know he couldn’t, but…”

“No,” Ariel pushed past her to the toilets. Her bladder was screaming for relief. “he didn’t want to try and help, but I think he knew how to break Mum’s Charm.”

She could practically feel the confusion radiating off of Hermione, even from the toilet. “Your mum wouldn’t have said anything if —”

“Being an adult doesn’t always mean you’re right, Hermione.”

They were both silent for a long time. Even after Ariel emerged to wash her hands, Hermione just stood there, deep in thought. Ariel took the silence to try and do something about her eyes — maybe Madam Pomfrey could give her something for the redness? Going to the Hospital Wing also meant leaving Gryffindor Tower, though, and Ariel really didn’t have any intention of leaving it ever again. She was certainly done with Potions… maybe if she confided in Professor McGonagall she’d let her drop? No, probably not, but Snape had always blatantly ignored her in class. Ariel could drop Potions after fifth year, couldn’t she? She’d just fail out and take something else — yes, that was a good plan —

“What’re you going to do?” Hermione interrupted Ariel’s inner ramblings. “Not that you have to do anything.”

Ariel considered this. She had decided that it was probably in her best interest to pass away after last night, being most mortified and angry, hurt and dejected. It filled the void in her heart with something so cold that it burned. She didn’t want to feel that way for another second, but she also knew that it was bound to stick around the longer she dwelled on it. For a split second, Ariel considered asking Hermione if they could learn Obliviation, but she was no coward like Snape. She wouldn’t forget, no matter how much she wanted to.

And the only alternative to forgetting was to destroy.

“I’m going to burn the letter.”

Hermione blinked at her in shock.

“With fire.” Ariel added, unsure if she wasn’t specific enough.

Hermione sighed, a quick and nervous sound. “You shouldn’t let whatever Professor Snape said take this away from you. I know how much that letter meant. If you destroy it, even if it’s to get rid of the bad parts, you’ll lose the good ones, too.”

Ariel thought about this while she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to untangle some of the knots that had formed. She wondered how there could be so many with so little hair. Even then, they didn’t compare to the knot twisting her stomach. She saw what Hermione was trying to say, that the letter was a piece of Mum that she’d never get back if she did this, but Mum had been gone for a long time, and you couldn’t lose what you never had. Snape had told her that last night, and it was the first time an adult had ever been truly honest with her. She was going to take that advice. Besides, Ariel couldn’t get back her mum’s words — the good and the bad — even if she wanted to. Without the counter-Charm, it was just a piece of parchment.

Ariel quickly ran through a list of places that she could probably do this without fear of someone seeing her. She couldn’t do it in the Gryffindor common room — Fred and George probably had the fireplaces all Charmed to resurrect anything that was thrown into it for their own personal gain, or something mental like that. They’d boobytrapped the entire thing practically, and Ariel only knew this because they’d warned her after she’d been Sorted. Ron had stepped on the wrong stone tile their second night at Hogwarts, and the entire left side of his body had turned hot pink. The twins had thought it was hilarious, but Ron had been ready to throw them into a fireplace.

She couldn’t just rip it up and throw it into a rubbish bin, either. What if someone went through it and put all the pieces together with magic? Even if her mum had Charmed it to be unreadable, Ariel couldn’t risk it ever falling into the wrong hands. No — she had to burn it, and there was only one person, besides Ron and Hermione, she could think of that she trusted with this.

“I’ll take it to Hagrid’s.” Ariel said. “I won’t tell him what’s in it, but he’ll keep it a secret. He won’t tell anyone I’ve been there.”

———

“Severus…”

CRASH

“Severus… well, I never was too fond of that frame anyway…”

“The sheer stupidity —”

CRACK

“Ah, yes, that plant was on its last legs…”

“Of all the foolish —”

Severus went for the vase that sat opposite Dumbledore’s desk, this time. It splintered open down the side as Severus trained his wand on it, willing it to cave in until it did so. The shards crumbled to the floor in waves, but seconds later, Dumbledore had already vanished the mess.

“Your redecoratering skills are impeccable, Severus.” said Dumbledore, who sat unphased behind his desk. Fawkes was growing distressed, flapping his wings anxious, as if he wanted to take off, but was afraid of leaving Dumbledore alone with Severus.

His world blurred around the edges, tinged with red as his stomach churned and mind howled. He needed to get out of this fucking room and be alone, but Dumbledore was keeping him here until he knew Severus wouldn’t do anything self-destructive. It fueled Severus’ rage the more he thought about it, how he wanted to raze the castle to the fucking ground, how he wanted to isolate himself in the dungeons until he wasted away into a hollow husk.

“Let me OUT!” Severus bellowed. He searched around wildly for his next target, some semblance of sanity keeping him away from the more valuable items, but his patience was quickly burning down to the wick. The thing in his chest that was the remnants of his heart pulled in the opposite direction. He wanted to reach inside himself and grind it into powder, to silence it once and for all.

Dumbledore stared back at him, unfazed. “I’m afraid I cannot do that until you —”

Severus had already broken the Pensive — that was the first thing he’d gone after. He scanned the room for something to destroy that wouldn’t land him in Azkaban. The portraits were all staring down at him disapprovingly, avoiding his glares while muttering to each other. Severus settled on the tea set made of china towards the front of the room. It exploded into dust, sparkling in the air like snow.

“That was a gift from the italian Minister of Magic.” Dumbledore sighed. “I had hoped to save it for a special occasion — Minerva’s been eyeing in for some time as well.”

Severus glared at him murderously. “You lied to me for months —”

“I did no such thing,” Dumbledore said gently. “I only had suspicions, my boy, and if I had revealed them to you under no burden of proof —”

“YOU HAD THE MEMORY!” Severus roared. Another CRACK rang through the office as the china cabinet that housed the tea set exploded. Fawkes began to screech, flapping his wings manically.

“Would you have reacted any differently?” Dumbledore finally sounded tired, leaning back in his seat, behind the safety of his desk. “The truth can oftentimes strip us of our emotional strongholds, no matter how steadfast their foundations are. There was nothing I could have done to prepare you for this — Lily did what she could.”

He loathed how disarming Dumbledore’s words were, how the very mention of Lily was enough to make his heart stutter in time. “Lily had no idea what was going to happen! She couldn’t have known that the Killing Curse would have rebounded and spared the girl!”

“No, she couldn’t have.” Dumbledore admitted. “But she also knew that there was a very good chance that she and James would not survive the war, especially once they’d gone into hiding. Lily trusted you to look after Ariel, if she no longer could.”

Severus couldn’t help it — he flinched. He usually didn’t feel anything until it hurt, but now, he was feeling more than he had in almost a decade. Anger tore at him as he struggled to pick one singular piece of this mania to focus on, to dismantle with his Shields and shove back down into his box that lay strewn back his consciousness, but it was impossible. There was simply too much. Severus wanted to be Obliviated again, after watching Lily’s memory, knowing that there was so much more he still couldn’t recall, but he’d known why he’d done it. He wouldn’t have been able to live with the memory of what could have been — Lily had been right to reject him, and Severus had foolishly insisted on tearing himself from her completely. He should have known he’d never be able to rid himself of her.

In the end, Severus had been both their undoings.

He fell into the chair adjacent to Dumbledore. Severus was terrified, the same kind of fear he’d felt when the Dark Lord had declared the Potter and Lily and their baby his prime target against the Prophecy. He’d unknowingly spawned this girl — the child — into being, putting her at risk the second she’d been conceived, setting the Dark Lord sights not only on her mother, but on a child that was his very own. If Lily had known what he’d done — what he’d really done, besides taking the Dark Mark — she would have killed him with her bare hands. Not to mention Potter —

Potter had loved Lily, as much as Severus loathed to admit it. He’d loved her for a long time, and if Lily needed him, he would have done anything for her, the same way Lily would have done anything to protect her child.

Just as Severus had.

He couldn’t be this, though — he couldn’t be anyone's father. The thought was… almost laughable, if it weren’t the stone-cold truth. It stared him right in the face, with eyes like Dumbledore’s, and a face like Lily’s daughter, both direct and aching.

“Lily trusted the wrong people.” Severus said flatly. “Just as I have wrongly trusted you.”

Dumbledore bowed his head. “Ariel has shown great courage in revealing this to you. That bravery cannot be overlooked, or overshadowed. I knew she would come to you in time, of her own accord — it was never my intention to deliberately deceive you.”

Severus closed her eyes, the girl’s face taunting him. Lily had never looked at him the way the girl had. She never would have lowered herself to do so — she had thrived on the emotions of everyone around her, but her daughter was like a nuclear blast, leveling not only everyone around her, but herself as well.

“You’re brave for arguing with me, Sev.” Lily used to say to him.

Their daughter.

The thought caused Severus’ stomach to churn nauseatingly. Having children of his own was a reprehensible thought. Even if they’d been with Lily, procreating during the height of a war would have been the last thing on his mind. After all, his own father had been a human shitstain. He was hardly a reliable role model, maybe even less so. His father hadn’t been a murderer.

The girl had Lily-face and Lily-hair, but his eyes. Dumbledore often said that eyes were the windows to the soul — what did that say about the girl?

Severus swallowed roughly. “If the Dark Lord were to find out… that I was related to her…”

Dumbledore’s serene mask finally turned into something akin to troubled. “He would use her against you.” he finished.

“Against me… to use against you.”

The Dark Lord would tear that girl inside out. He would use her and then discard her, like he did with most Death Eater children. Like he'd done with Regulus.

Like he'd done with all of them.

“I have always wondered if Ariel’s resemblance to her mother would give Tom cause to doubt you.” Dumbledore said, almost thoughtfully. “You’ve assured me that he would not be able to understand the resentment you harbor, but I would agree in saying it’s imperative that he cannot know about her true parentage.”

Severus buried his face in his hands, massaging his temple forcefully. “This must be… dealt with.”

Dumbledore tilted his head. “What did you have in mind?”

obliviate the girl leave the school move to Siberia

“She cannot be allowed to continue with this… childish dream.” Severus said after a long pause. “My duties simply won’t allow it… it’s far too much of a risk, Albus. Surely you must see that.”

Fawkes had finally begun to settle, keeping one eye trained on Severus warily as had hopped onto Dumbledore’s shoulder, perching himself like a vulture. It would have looked rather menacing if Dumbledore hadn’t reached up to scratch under Fawkes’ chin — the phoenix immediately relaxed and began to nuzzle him, cooing softly. Dumbledore, however, looked more troubled than ever.

“The heart is hard to translate,” he said. “it has a language of its own.”

“Don’t,” Severus snarled.

“It’s proclamations are often misunderstood, and that makes it dangerous.” Dumbledore continued, as though he hadn’t heard him. “Do you think Ariel came to you because Lily wanted her to, or of her own volition? Both required courage, I would imagine, for a girl her age, and after all she has been through. There is no greater bravery than overcoming fear of the unknown.”

Severus closed his eyes, the carvings underneath the stairs in Petunia’s house filling his mind’s eye. He remembered the girl telling them she’d jumped out of a window for a glimpse into a world she’d never known existed, of how she’d taken his arm and gazed up at the castle in childish wonderment, and how his heart had shifted uncomfortably — how he’d envied her.

“Don’t you see what she is, Severus?” Dumbledore asked.

He looked up. “She is the last of Lily. I will protect her with my life, it needs require it, but this is—”

“Lily left you this gift.” he said softly. “Do not let it go to waste, my boy.”

The glass in the windows exploded, and Dumbledore closed his eyes. Severus threw himself out of the chair, red everywhere, in the walls and the ceiling and the tips of his fingers. He felt as though he were a short time away from sleep, waiting for some epiphany that was just out of his grasp.

“You think this is a gift?” Severus managed to strangle out. “After all you have seen, after what I did to her and her mother and fucking Potter? That girl would have been better off thinking me dead — or worse. What if I had been in Azkaban? Would you think it was a gift then, Headmaster? Or would you have seen to it that the girl never read that damn letter in the first place?”

“Even if you had not heard the Prophecy yourself, you would have come to me once you knew Lily’s daughter was his intended target.”

“Which was only revealed to me because I was the one who had told him!”

“You will not be punished for your anger, Severus.” Dumbledore said resignedly. “You will be punished by it. You did not evade Azkaban by the skin of your teeth, but by the broadness of your courage. ”

“For fuck’s sake —” Severus fell back into his chair, his breathing irregular and ragged. He felt like he was going to have a heart attack, but he’d never be so lucky. Fate had never been on his side, with that.

Dumbledore stayed silent, Fawkes quietly cooing while the shards of glass flew back into the window frames. Severus thought of the girl’s face in the candlelight in his office, how he’d thought she would break something, of how it might’ve been him, or even herself. For the first time since Severus had met the girl, she had not looked like Lily, but someone else. It had been like gazing into a mirror.

“She is a foolish thing indeed.” Severus said, mostly to himself.

“No, she’s not.” Dumbledore said calmly. “More importantly, my boy, she is yours.”

Severus almost laughed. He thought of Lily laughing at him, of how she’d howl if she knew that he was responsible for hundreds of children, that he taught them for a living. The thought of sharing a child with Lily was not laughable, though. It was something else — it was someone else’s joke, a cruel twist of Fate that he killed Lily, that he’d set the Dark Lord’s sights and murderous vendetta on his own child.

And that thought terrified Severus most of all.

———

Ariel left Hermione to get ready for the day while she went to go and see Hagrid by herself. She’d gone while Hermione went into the shower, and Parvarti and Lavender hissed under their breath about Ariel’s inherent rudeness. She caught the end of a conversation where Lavender asked if she’d done something to make her hate her, and it had made Ariel feel twice as terrible as she had before.

Hermione had been oddly quiet after their conversation, in an unapproved sort of way that had made Ariel feel uncomfortable. She wondered if being someone’s best friend meant you always had to agree with them, but decided against that thought as she got dressed. Friends disagreed on all sorts of things. Living with the Weasleys had taught her that. They bickered about all sorts of things — everything — but that didn’t mean they didn’t love each other. Hermione couldn’t understand this part, the fear between the layers, though, because Hermione had two loving parents. Both of Ariel’s were dead, and the third hated her. She couldn’t fault Hermione for that… but maybe Hermione could. Deep down, Ariel feared that more than anything else.

The corridors felt different this morning — there was no place for the darkness that had chased her last night. Ariel made a mental note to tell Hermione and Ron about it later while they figured out what to do next with the Stone.

The light filtered in through the stained glass windows, not quite churchlike, but enough to make Ariel stop and stare for a moment. The figures inside bustled about, a knight jousting another in the arrow-head window beside him. They missed one another, the princess watching from above shaking her head as she rolled her eyes in boredom. Ariel rolled her eyes at them, reminded of Fred and George while Ginny watched them playing Quidditch. She would’ve given anything to go back to that time, to start Hogwarts all over again. Maybe if she’d been Sorted into Slytherin like the Hat had wanted, Snape might’ve liked her just a smidge more. Maybe just a smidge would have been enough.

Ariel stared down at the parchment in her hands, wondering if her Mum had been wrong about anything else.

And then something bloomed at the end of the hallway.

For a split second, Ariel thought it was the darkness, back to grab her when she was all alone. Her breath caught in her throat as she fumbled for her wand, shoving the letter in her back pocket as she skittered backwards, but she quickly realized that she was mistaken. It wasn’t the darkness, sucking the light from outside until it was all gone — it was the exact opposite.

It was a doe, radiating light that shone like the sun beneath waves, it’s warmth filtering through her fingertips and toes. A doe made of stars and mist, staring right at her.

Ariel froze, not wanting to startle it, but also wanting to get closer. She quickly looked around, assessing her surroundings to see if there was anyone else nearby. There wasn’t, which wasn’t at all that surprising, given the early hour and the fact that it was Saturday, but it was all the more puzzling. This didn’t look like a real doe, but it had to be, because it was moving, it’s ears flicking back as it calmly watched her.

Ariel twitched her nose at it, and it twitched right back. It trotted towards her, then, closing the gaps between them with a few final bounds and leaps. It stared at her, as if it was about to speak its mind, but all it did was bow its head forward, searching for something that Ariel gladly gave it.

“Hi,” Ariel breathed, reaching out her hand. The doe nuzzled her palm before nudging her chin with its snout. She giggled, about to scratch behind its ears when it bounded away from her, back to the other end of the corridor.

“Hey — wait!” Ariel called after it, but at the sound of her voice again, the doe disappeared around the corner.

Ariel charged after it, her heartbeat thrumming behind her eyes. The warmth left a trail behind it, like footprints in sand on a beach — while each bound ahead of her, the doe’s starry comfort faded, but Ariel was determined to catch it and hold it in her hands. The portraits lining the hallways gasped as the doe leapt passed, Ariel close behind.

They reached the alcove where Ariel had first read the letter when the doe stopped. Ariel screeched to a halt as well, holding her stomach to soothe the stitch in her side.

“It’s a little early for a run, you know.” she panted. “I’ve had a long night — not that you’d know.”

The doe shook its head at her, and then began to fade back into the morning light. Ariel could feel the warmth leaving, like it’s absence was carving out a piece of her. She reached a hand towards the doe, unsure of what she was trying to do herself, but it was too late — it was gone.

Something else moved behind her. Ariel turned, thinking it was the doe again, or some other animal, perhaps, but it wasn’t.

It was Snape, his silhouette an outline in the morning shadows. Ariel’s heart leaped up into her throat, beating like a timpani. He looked like the thing that had chased after her in the darkness, gaunt and skeletal, the sun’s rays harsh against his sallow skin. There were deep bruises under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept in a millenia.

Ariel mustered together what she hoped was a terrible glare, and rounded on her heel. She hadn’t taken two steps before she felt Snape jerked her arm back, whirling her around. Ariel let out a startled cry, tugging on her arm to break free, when Snape gave her another shake and raised a finger to his lips. She stopped at that, because usually this was the point when Snape said something both condescending and infuriating, but his eyes were dark and intense, staring at something behind her.

After a minute of this, Snape began hauling her off, up the winding staircase and past the alcove where the doe had been. Ariel wanted to ask him about it but clamped her mouth shut and tried to think of how to get away. She thought about biting him, but decided against it. She’d bit Uncle Vernon, once, and it had not ended well. Ariel could only imagine what Snape would do to her.

“I haven’t done anything wrong!” Ariel whispered hotly as Snape pushed forward with her in tow, but he ignored her, dragging her up a staircase she’d never seen before. Sometimes, Ariel forgot just how big the castle really was, but she didn’t feel much like exploring now. The higher up they got, the farther away Hagrid became, which was going to take a lot longer than Ariel wanted. She was secretly afraid she’d lose her nerve if she didn’t burn Mum’s letter, and soon.

They stopped at the very top of some stairs, the ceiling so low that if Snape wasn’t bent over, he would’ve hit his head on one of the wooden beams. Cobwebs hung abundantly from the corners, the floor coated in dust. There were no doors, no windows, no more staircases to climb. Snape let her go as he raised his wand at the rightmost wall, and Ariel didn’t take two steps back down the stairs before Snape’s hand clamped around her arm again.

He gave her a murderous look, the hollows beneath his eyes burning a hole between hers. Ariel tried to match it, but Snape was already waving his wand at the wall again, the stones moving, stacking themselves to the side in an orderly fashion, like Snape was their general and they his loyal soldiers.

They parted to reveal the sky, and that Ariel and Snape were very, very high up. The trees looked like sticks from this height, but the sun was brilliantly orange, glowing proudly above the treeline. Even the lake looked like a puddle. She couldn’t even find Hagrid’s hut.

Snape jerked his head at her, pushing her ahead of him. “Out.”

Ariel opened and closed her mouth, because if she stepped forward, she’d fall stories upon stories to her death. There was nothing there — it was just air and light and clouds. Her stomach felt like it had already made the perilous jump.

“What?” she squeaked.

He gave an exasperated sigh, brushing past her. Before Ariel could bolt, Snape was climbing past the parted bricks, but instead of falling straight through, his foot landed on something solid… except there was nothing solid there. He was floating midair, like the open space between his boots and the ground hundreds of feet below him was as stable as the ground Ariel stood on herself. She gaped at him, a million questions on her lips, but before she could say anything, Snape picked her clean off the ground and put her down beside him.

As soon as he let go, the setting changed. Instead of floating midair like a ghost, hundreds — probably thousands — of feet in the air, they were suddenly inside a room. It was made of wood on all sides, a door where the parted stones had once been. There was a table in the corner with a bouquet of red tulips in a white case, and a chair missing one of it’s legs. It looked sad and unused, like it hadn’t had an occupant in years.

“What… what is this?” Ariel said, a little out of breath. “There was nothing here.”

“Magic.” Snape said flatly. “The school is not without it’s more private spaces if one need to have a… chat”

“You couldn’t have told me that?” she grumbled, trying to hide her relief. “I thought you were about to off me.”

He gave her an unreadable look. “Do you have the letter?”

Ariel crossed her arms and squared her jaw. “No.”

“Yes, you do.” Snape snapped back immediately.

“No, I don’t.”

“You’ve been carrying around the bloody thing since you read it.”

“No, I haven’t!”

“Yes, you have. Give it to me.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Miss Evans, I am going to count to three.” Snape said in a dangerous voice, one that had at least three threats hidden in-between the consonants. “If you don’t hand me that letter, I am going to march you straight to the Headmaster’s office.”

“Good.” Ariel looked him straight in the eye. “You do that.”

His hands flexed at his sides. If Ariel wasn’t so furious, she might’ve actually been frightened. “One —”

Ariel steadied her feet, readying herself to bolt.

“Two —”

Her jaw clicked.

“Three.”

Ariel turned —

— but she didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her feet stayed put, her left behind her right, ready to sprint back into the castle and up to Gryffindor Tower. Panicked, Ariel swung her torso around, trying to see whatever was pinning her feet to the floor, but caught sight of Snape’s face, bored and annoyed.

“What did you do?” Ariel pointed an accusing finger at him.

“You are disappointingly predictable.” Snape rolled his eyes, reaching a hand forward, crooking his finger at her. “Hand it over.”

“I said what I said!” Ariel tugged on her legs, trying to peel them off the stones by force. “And you cheated.”

“I did no such thing.” Snape rolled his eyes. “I — the teacher — am ordering you — a student — to hand over a document that has caused nothing but trouble. I knew you would try and flee, so I placed a Sticking Charm on your person.”

“I told you I don’t —”

Snape grabbed her arm again, leaning down until he was practically nose to nose with her. His eyes were black pitts, fathomless and empty, but something at the very bottom sparkled back at her, like the doe. The Something — the fear — was gone, like it had never been there. Ariel had gotten used to staring at it until then. Now, there was something else — it was the light at the very bottom of his black eyes.

“I was going to burn it!” Ariel said, dodging him. “Alright? I’m getting rid of it!”

Snape straightened up and stared down at her, his expression unreadable. “And why, pray tell, would you do that?”

Ariel gaped incredulously at him, her heart slamming against her sternum. She turned away from him, blinking back the tears threatening to spill over and biting her tongue to distract her, focusing on that pain instead of the one in her chest.

“Let me go.” Ariel mumbled, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “It’ll be gone for good, I promise.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “If you were going to burn it, then what does it matter what I do with it?”

Ariel glowered up at him doubtfully. “You said it’s a fake.”

“All the more reason to hand it over.”

“It’s my letter.” Ariel countered.

Snape’s lip curled. “This game is rapidly decreasing in it’s cuteness. Accio letter!”

It flew out of her back pocket and into his waiting hand. Ariel let out an angry cry, trying to snatch it back, but even if Snape was within her reach, he was a great deal taller than she was. She balled her fists at her sides, blinking back angry tears as Snape unfolded the letter.

“Who do we call at the edge of night?” he said.

Ariel’s breath caught in her throat as she watched the words come flooding back onto the parchment — she could see it through the other side, hungrily wishing she were the one holding it so that she could see it all again first. She knew Snape had stopped reading when his eyes stopped moving. They didn’t go glassy, but rather empty, like Snape had disappeared inside himself. It was almost like when a store closed for a long weekend, the closed sign hanging in the window. The hand holding the letter shook, though, the parchment fluttering as though there were a slight breeze.

The silence filled the space, ballooning until it felt difficult to breathe. Maybe it was the stuffiness of the room, that it hadn’t been touched in months, years even, but Ariel was contemplating saying something until Snape held out his hand. He did not look at her until Ariel shakily took it from him, and when he did, his eyes were a decade away.

She cocked her head up at him. “What does it mean — the counter-Charm?”

Snape blinked down at her, like he’d forgotten she was there. “I have no idea, it was from a poem your mother fancied. She used to recite it when she thought I’d gone too long without being teased relentlessly.”

Ariel tried to picture Snape being teased, and it had the same outcome that biting him would have had, in her head. She stared down at Mum’s familiar handwriting, the wobbly letters at the very top of the parchment creating a sort of kinship in her heart.

“Do you believe me now?” she asked in a small voice, not daring to look up at him while she spoke.

There was another long, painful pause, and Ariel forced herself to peek up at Snape. He still had that faraway look in his eyes, his face smooth and blank, but his gaze was locked on the letter. “There is no room for doubt, after seeing it myself.”

Ariel wished he spoke like a normal person now more than ever, but she just nodded, not knowing what else to do, then. “Well… thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

Snape just looked at her, like he didn’t know what he was looking at. Ariel didn’t blame her — she didn’t know herself anymore.

“No one can know.” Snape said, in a low, stern voice. “This is to stay between us — it is imperative that this information does not fall into the wrong hands. Am I understood?”

She thought about Hermione, and Ron, and how they had probably been talking about it amongst themselves when she wasn’t there. “Well, I didn’t tell just anyone if that’s what you mean.”

Snape looked enraged for a half a second before he smacked his hand against his forehead. “I forgot Granger was with you.” he muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I suppose that means Weasley knows as well?”

Ariel grimaced. “They’re my best mates, I had to tell them.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I —” She exhaled through her nose and extended the letter to him. “Here, just take it.” Snape recoiled, like Ariel was handing him rotten garbage. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “If it’s such a big deal that no one else knows, then you should have it. I understand why you don’t want anyone to know.”

Snape hesitated before taking it, a quick, sharp motion that Ariel would have missed if she’d blinked.

“Were you actually going to burn it?” he asked in a voice she didn’t know how to decipher. “Or was that simply a flare up of those nauseating Gryffindor dramatics?”

Too tired to argue anymore, Ariel nodded. “I really was. You were going to last night, weren’t you? Is that what you’re going to do now?”

He hesitated — she’d never seen him do that before. “Is that what you want?”

“When has what I’ve wanted ever mattered?” she didn’t mean to say it, but it had slipped out, like sand through your fingers.

Snape said nothing. He waved his hands, and Ariel staggered forward, finally about to move her legs again. She kicked a couple of times for good measure, about to ask Snape how he’d put the Charm on her without her knowing, but he was already making his way out.

He paused in the doorway, like he was going to say something, his head turned towards her, but instead, pivoted and shoved the letter into her hands.

Without another word, Snape jerked the door open and stalked out, leaving Ariel alone.

She didn’t feel alone, though — she felt… oddly relieved.

Upon the table now sat a book, opened about a third of the way through. Ariel could see that it was very old, like the room, the cover worn and yellowed with age. She peered back to the door, wondering if Snape had somehow left it, but there was a note written atop it that was not Snape’s, or Mum’s, or anyone else's she recognized.

Be patient, my dear, if nothing else.

Below the text in the faded book was writing that was familiar.

Sev thinks this is worse than the last one, but I think it’s gorgeous. LE.

Ariel sat down in the chair missing a leg, and began to read.

———

in a dark and distant year

the wand’rer weary, full of fear

confronts a fated force more powerful than life

a carriage made of sea

has come to take his wife

the waves too dark and deep to swim

he hears his love cry out to him

her piercing anguish rising high above the foam

“please don’t let go of me, for you are my home!”

from the shore he sees his bride

as she fights hard against the tide

he swears a sacred vow that every loved one keeps

he steels himself,

takes one last breath,

and leaps

———

To be continued...
End Notes:

A/N: I apologize for the delay in uploading. The reopening of schools has been stressful, and my sole focus has been on making sure myself and my students get through the next few months. I don’t really know how to describe the level of anxiety and stress teachers are going through, especially our music programs, but it’s really good to be back with my students after so long. I can’t wait until I’m in front of my full orchestra again someday, or sing with my first graders.

The poem Snape references is actually a song, “Don’t Let Me Go” by an artist I can’t recall at the moment. The poem is taken from the choral pieces, more specifically, the text “One Last Breath” by the amazing Eric Whitacre.

I would really love and appreciate it if you could leave a review. Thank you all for your kind words in past reviews, I treasure each one. Until next time! xx

Chapter 11: sincerity is scary by shostakobitch

The next time Ariel spoke to Snape, he was limping.

This was already quite un-Snapely, which was a broad category in Ariel’s head. There were many things that weren’t Snapely, and weakness of any kind was one of them. He looked as though he ate weakness for breakfast.

“Are you sure you want to sit out here?” Ariel asked Hermione, rubbing her hands together as the chilly November air bit at her skin. Mrs Weasley had sent her mittens that were twice the size of her hands, but they were the warmest thing she’d ever owned. Unfortunately, that meant that they kept sliding off.

“It’s not that cold,” Hermione said, but Ariel noticed that she seemed to be hiding a knowing smirk when Ariel looked at her incredulously. She’d brought a glass jar, full of little blue flames that glowed in the air between them, keeping one side of each of them toasty, but the other one still terribly exposed. They’d come outside to the courtyard, which was deserted.

“I’m going to be a human popsicle after ten minutes.” Ariel said, trying to keep her teeth from chattering.

“Honestly, you’re starting to sound like Ron.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“He’s asked if we want to go to the Quidditch match with him tomorrow, by the way.”

“I thought you hated Quidditch?”

Ariel grimaced. “I don’t hate it. I don’t like flying much, but I think watching a game could be… fun.” She was bloody terrible on a broom — she ended bottom up in some bushes her first flying lesson, and the Slytherins had found this to be so hysterically funny that they acted it out every flying lesson since. Ariel wanted to smash the broomsticks over their heads, maybe even take out Pansy’s eye with the straw.

Hermione beamed. “I’d love to go, as long as you’re up for it.”

It was that last bit that made Ariel’s stomach twist into knots. She knew she’d been putting a damper on things this past week. After she came back from the floating room with Snape, all she could think about was the stupid letter while Ron and Hermione thought it had been destroyed, forever. She had told them about the poem that she’d found, though, but not about her conversation with Snape, that he’d read the letter himself, and that Ariel had watched something inside his eyes break.

She didn’t think it was fair to keep bothering them with it. Besides, they had the Stone to keep an eye on, especially if someone was trying to steal it. When it came to Quidditch, the truth was that Ariel desperately wanted something to take her mind off of everything, and if watching a game of Quidditch was going to do that, then so be it. Maybe Fred or George could knock the Quaffle at the Slytherin stands, if Ariel asked — they’d probably cry happy, proud tears. If Draco and Pansy made any part of this difficult Ariel was going to find a way to feed them to that three-headed dog herself.

Ariel shrugged. “It’s the first match of the season, so we should really go, anyway. I want to see Fred and George play. They talked all summer about how much they missed it.”

Hermione nodded happily, her brown eyes excited. “I’m sure Hagrid will be there, too.”

The thought warmed Ariel’s heart a bit. Having Hagrid there would probably discourage the Slytherins from giving her too much trouble — not that she couldn’t take them, but she’d much rather avoid the detention for smashing in their noses, if she could. They reminded her a lot of Aunt Petunia, in some ways, and she hated Aunt Petunia.

“One of the third years said there’s a permanent Warming Charm beneath the old birth tree.” Hermione said, linking her arm with Ariel’s. “So maybe we’ll finally get some reading done out here.”

Ariel hummed along in agreement, but secretly wished she was still sitting in front of one of the fireplaces up in Gryffindor Tower. She was envious of Ron, who was engaged in a chess battle royal with Seamus that had been going steady for two hours now.

“I heard Pansy say she was using the library with Draco,” Hermione said, her nose wrinkling, like she smelt something bad. “I know it’s cold, but I’d rather freeze out here than have to put up with them.”

Sometimes, Ariel wondered if Hermione was so smart that she could read her mind. That made sense — Ariel had thought to ask why they weren’t using the library, but as usual, Hermione was one step ahead of her. “If I see her face outside of class, I’d find a much better use for those books.”

Hermione smiled, but it was lined with something else — concern. Ever since Ariel had thrown potions ingredients at Draco during Snape’s class, the Slytherins had been relentless with egging her on, trying to get her to lose her cool again and land herself another detention. She’d nearly lost it last week when Pansy had slipped in some lavender into her and Neville’s cauldron on her way up to Snape’s desk, causing it to turn into something moldy and the exact color of Filch’s fingernails.

Snape had given Neville three days of detention for it, which Ariel had tried to contest, but she might as well have been empty air. Snape hadn’t so much as looked at her when she’d told him what the Slytherins had done. Draco and Pansy thought it was hilarious, but Ariel had wanted to disappear into the floorboards, and Hermione and Ron could tell, but it was also obvious that they had no idea what to do about it.

Ariel remembered Ron telling the third year Gryffindors about Ariel launching the moonseed’s at Draco’s face and smiled to herself. He’d spoken about it with such pride, like she had won a major duel or something, and no one had ever talked about her like that. It had felt so good — that memory, the satisfaction that she carried around inside her heart-shaped box. She wondered if she’d listened to the Sorting Hat… if Snape would’ve looked at her differently, if she’d been in Slytherin. She’d been so preoccupied with making sure she stayed with Ron…

“What’d you bring with you?” Hermione asked, tearing Ariel from her inner ramblings.

Ariel held the book tucked under her arm a little tighter. “Just something light… no schoolwork. My brain feels like scrambled eggs after Transfiguration.”

Hermione made a noise of approval. “Poetry again then?”

She grinned sheepishly. “Fred showed me a Translation Charm — this one’s in French, but there wasn’t a whole lot left in the library. You’d think there’d be poetry galore in that place.”

The story about the wanderer had not been something Snape had left, but Ariel also couldn’t pinpoint who’s handwriting it had been inside the book. All of the other pages had been blank. Ariel wanted to ask Snape about it, but he had all but vanished. Snape was absent from meals, the hallways, even detentions, which he was passing on to other professors, according to Fred and George. It was a wonder he was still teaching Potions, because he dismissed them on the dot, and would disappear into his storeroom. He’d stopped giving Ariel back any and all assignments in Potions, which she didn’t mind anymore. She knew she was brewing everything correctly because Neville’s marks weren’t abysmal, and Snape always knocked the Gryffindor’s down a whole letter grade just to be a git. Hermione had taken to raising her hand silently to answer questions (not that Snape ever called on her) but had stopped calling out, which seemed to make Snape hate them all ten times more, when no one knew the answer.

The poem about the wanderer… it felt incomplete, like there was more. She wanted to know what had come prior, or what had happened to him after he’d jumped into the water, though she had a feeling it hadn’t ended well.

“Maybe you’re just not looking in the right places.” Hermione said, but Ariel knew that was a lie. She’d practically dragged Ariel down to the library when she’d mentioned wanting to look for some books, and despite the fact that the library was gigantic, there hadn’t been much poetry to find, even with Hermione interrogating Madam Pince herself. That was the moment when Ariel realized Hermione had to be a Gryffindor. By the time Ariel had dragged Hermione away, apologizing profusely, Madam Pince had looked like some sort of griffon, ready to grab them in her talons and rip them to shreds.

“Maybe,” Ariel said, a little glumly. “I keep thinking if I find the rest —”

“If there is a rest,” Hermione interjected.

“Yeah — if — then I’ll figure out who left it for me, that maybe they know something I don’t, but if Mum only told James, and Snape didn’t know at all, who else could it be?”

Hermione shook her head. “Maybe Professor Snape told someone?”

Ariel almost laughed. “I don’t think so.”

“Maybe he would, you don’t know that.”

then why not keep it to yourself?

“I just wish someone would tell me what to do, or what it is they want me to know and not know.” Ariel muttered. “I’m sick and tired of secret notes.”

“It is a pretty big deal,” Hermione admitted. “Being your father, and all.”

Ariel gave her A Look. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” she hesitated. “I mean, to give you an idea, I read all about you in books before I even met you.”

She almost groaned. “It doesn’t even matter, I was a baby! I don’t remember anything!”

“I know, I know,” Hermione gave her shoulder a reassuring pat. “I’m just saying that it’s a strong possibility why it’s… well, why no one wants to talk about it. Maybe secret notes are all we have, for right now.”

Ariel sighed, scanning the courtyard for a spot for them to sit. It was still light out, which made her feel safe. She’d been seeing that infinite darkness in corners, heard it muttering in class, in Defense or in the Great Hall during dinner. No one else seemed to notice it but her, and it was such quick glimpses that Ariel didn’t know what exactly to do with it. It frightened her, but nothing had happened like the night she’d told Snape The Truth, and so she’d waved it away as her imagination. It was only quick little blips, anyway, forgotten until she laid in bed at night, replaying the time she’d first seen it over and over and over —

She was keeping a lot of secrets. Maybe that was why her heart felt so heavy lately… maybe it wasn’t Snape at all. Maybe the secrets weighed you down, took something a little from you each day, chiseled away at you bit by bit.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hermione asked quietly, as though she were asking permission to ask the question in the first place. “I know we haven’t had much time lately, and now that your mum’s letter is gone… but Ron and I… we want you to know that we won’t stop helping you find out the truth, if that’s what you really want.”

Ariel was going to tell her everything, then — all about the floating room and the doe, the talk with Snape and the darkness made of voices and nightmares, so black the light seemed to get sucked up inside of it.

That was when she spotted him, just as she was seating herself beneath the birth tree, the book in her lap and another Warming Charm on her lips.

Hermione had frozen in place, her demeanor radiating discomfort. She shot a quick look to Ariel, who felt her chest tighten with that all too familiar pang of something that felt like loss.

And then Ariel noticed the limp, and that the fabric of Snape’s right trouser looked like it had gone through a meat grinder.

“Ariel —” Hermione reached out a hand to pull her back, but she was too late, Ariel was already halfway across the courtyard, making a beeline for him.

Snape didn’t seem to see her at first, his face twisted every time he put weight on his bad leg. His hair was matted against his forehead, far greasier than it usually looked, but Ariel wouldn’t have really known since she hadn’t seen much of him. She broke into a jog, which finally seemed to catch Snape’s attention. His face twisted — was that horror? — but before he could pick up the pace, Ariel had already reached out, screeching to a halt in front of him, successfully blocking his path.

“Hello,” Ariel said, pulling her cloak around her tightly. Her heart hammered away in her chest, like a fist against a door, begging to be let out.

Snape stopped to glare down at her, but it was diluted by the tiredness in his face. There were deep, dark circles underneath his eyes that had been there for almost two weeks, since Ariel had told Snape The Truth, and she’d read the poem about the wanderer. She felt tired too, but it was a different kind of exhaustion, one that didn’t match the one in Snape’s face. He looked… haunted.

She pointed at his leg. “You’re hurt.”

“Astute observation, Miss Evans.” Snape drawled, pulling on his cloak so that it was covering his injured leg. “Is that all, or would you also like to note the color of my robes?”

The snark bounced off of her like oil on water. “Are you going to Madam Pomfrey?”

He began to walk away, and Ariel hurried after him, three of her own strides matching one of his. “No, I’ve decided to amputate it myself.”

She huffed, partly in annoyance, and partly out of breath. “You're only going to make it worse the more you walk on it.”

Snape stopped short, and Ariel’s nose came itches away from smashing into his knees. He whirled around, his expression too exhausted to be angry, but his eyes burned a hole right between her eyes. A little voice in the back of Ariel’s head told her she was mental for bothering Snape like this, for being so nosy, but she hadn’t seen him, and she wanted to ask him so much things —

“I didn’t realize we had another certified Healer on staff.” Snape said coolly.

“Any numpty could figure that one out.” Ariel said, quite matter-of-factly. “And I’d know anyway, from experience.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Aunt Marge’s dog dragged me down the hallway once.” she said before she could think it over. “I had a brace and everything. Aunt Petunia was furious I couldn’t do any of the yardwork for a month. I tried, but it just made it worse.”

Snape’s face did something strange, almost as if it was being stretched into an unnatural expression that made Ariel’s stomach break into cartwheels. “I see.”

“What happened?” Ariel asked, her face suddenly very hot. “I’m guessing it wasn’t dogs.”

He glared down at her for another long moment, that pinprick of something white hot and unfiltered glowing in his black eyes. She stared right back. Maybe it was the fact that Ariel had successfully taken him off guard, but Snape didn’t scare her anymore. She couldn’t fear rejection when it had already happened, and while the sting of it still lingered, Ariel had come to realize that hoping for some kind of relationship with Snape was about as likely as Filch accepting a present from Fred and George.

“Gravity.” Snape said flatly, and began to walk away again. Ariel hurried after him, huffing as she clutched the book at her chest. He stopped short again, a warning in his eyes — or maybe his leg was starting to really bother him, and Ariel was just getting in the way.

Be patient, my dear, if nothing else, the note had said.

“Well,” Ariel tucked the book in the crook of her arm. “then you won’t mind if I follow you, then.”

His gaze darkened. “I very much would.”

“What if you fall?” she asked, nonplussed.

“What if I don’t?” Snape snapped back.

“I don’t very much like the odds of that.” Ariel said, trying to match his tone, and failing. Snape spoke to people like you were a slug he’d stepped on, and no matter how hard she tried, Ariel couldn’t summon that much reproach into her voice.

Snape had turned his back to her to try and leave again, but at this, he stopped and sighed, his head hanging low so that his hair and cloak melded together into one black mass. Ariel almost felt bad, but there was this quiet desperation inside of her to get him to talk to her again, even if he was essentially telling her to bugger off. After a moment, he turned to glower at her again, but it had lost some of its potency.

“Books aren’t to be taken from the library.” he said.

Ariel blinked at him. “Since when?”

“Since the dawn of time.”

“I think you’re making that up to get rid of me.”

“Very good, Miss Evans.” he said, his breath curling the air like fog. “Hand it over, or I’ll let Madam Pince have her way with you.”

Ariel tried to stifle the shudder that went through her at the thought. “If I wasn’t allowed to take it out, she wouldn’t have let me leave with it!”

“Hand — it — over.” Snape said in a quiet voice, one that conveyed every inch of his warning.

She tried to swallow her anger, which was begging to lash out, to yell at him to stop being some a git and talk to her like a normal person for once — to talk to her at all.

“I’ve been trying to find the rest of that poem,” said Ariel. “from the floating room.”

Snape’s face went blank, like paint dripping off of a canvas. “I beg your pardon?”

“The poem, in the book you left.”

“I did no such —” Snape’s face went the exact color of sour milk, like he’d had a terrible thought come over him. His face instantly twisted into an expression of anger — or maybe it was disgust — but Ariel could tell it wasn’t directed at her for once. He took the books from her waiting hands, and turned on his heel.

“Get inside, you’ll catch your death of a cold out here.” Snape snarled, walking away before Ariel could protest.

She watched him stalk away like an injured predator who was trying to save face. Adults were weird, Ariel decided, waiting until he had disappeared behind the columns before looping back around to follow him. Hermione was waiting for her behind one of the pillars, worry shining from every inch of her face.

“What did he —” Hermione started to say, but Ariel shushed her, pulling her along so that they were both out of sight. She slowly peeked around the stone column, watching as Snape disappeared back inside the castle.

“Come on,” Ariel tugged at her arm. “we’ve got to follow him.”

—————

They’d gotten all the way up to Filch’s office without being spotted, but instead of feeling smugly victorious, Ariel was terribly confused.

They’d stayed far back, but it had been pretty easy to follow Snape, Ariel realized, once she’d figured out that he wasn’t heading for the infirmary. A small, but noisy voice in the back of her head kept ordering her to go and get Madam Pomfrey herself, but Ariel knew this would mean Sudden and Imminent Death for her, and probably Hermione, too. Besides, Snape was an adult who probably knew loads of healing spells he could do himself. Maybe he didn’t need Madam Pomfrey after all.

The castle seemed… quieter as Hermione and Ariel crept after Snape. She prayed to whatever god was listening that the darkness didn’t choose now to show up, but it was comforting to know that if it did, at least Snape was in earshot —

— with a busted leg.

Ariel shuddered, shoving the thought away from her. She couldn’t afford to think about that now, she had to find out where Snape was going.

He had started to slow down once they passed the Great Hall, rapping on Filch’s door before letting himself in. Ariel couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to hesitate for a split second, looking over his shoulder. Hermione gripped at her hand, her breath the only sound could hear as Snape slid inside silently. He’d gone to Filch because he thought Ariel would go straight to Madam Pomfrey, that sneaky git —

“What’s he doing?” Hermione whispered, her fingers knotted in Ariel’s cloak.

“I don’t know,” Ariel replied. She crept closer, but Hermione tugged her back.

“What did he say to you?” her eyes searching Ariel’s, as if she was holding the answer captive.

“He just told me to bugger off and took my book.”

Hermione exhaled, a deep, distressed sound. “And you want to go after him?”

“He’s hurt, and I do kinda want my book back.” Ariel started to move again, but Hermione’s hand stayed firmly on her shoulder.

She looked at her, something in her face that made Ariel’s heart quiver. It was like looking down when you were at the very top of a cliff, or a rollercoaster and not knowing what was at the bottom, when the bottom would come, if it would come at all. It made her chest feel like it was filled with cold water, because Ariel knew exactly what Hermione was saying without saying anything at all.

“Stay here,” Ariel said, hating that she let her voice shake. “I’m going to see if I can hear anything.”

She turned away, unable to look at her anymore, unable to let the truth of Hermione’s expression leak into her any longer, but the icy feeling inside her chest began to thaw when she felt Hermione’s hand let go of her cloak, and slip into her hand instead. Ariel squeezed back tightly, sucking in the November air before ordering her legs to move towards Filch’s door.

Snape hadn’t closed the door all the way, Ariel realized, a crack of light slipping through the thin threshold. She was able to peer inside, Hermione’s still hand around hers, as tight as a vise. Snape’s leg was a bloody and mangled mess, his trousers pulled up so that the injury was in full view. It didn’t look like he'd gone through a meat grinder anymore — more like he’d let a lion gnaw on it for a few minutes. Ariel stared at it, horrified.

Filch said something Ariel couldn’t hear, but Snape shook his head. “She’s meddlesome — she’d ship me off to St Mungo’s, and I’m needed here.”

It took Ariel a second to realize he was probably talking about Madam Pomfrey. Filch handed him a roll of bandages, and Snape bent over as he began to unroll them.

“It was that fucking dog,” Snape snarled. “how the bloody hell are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?”

Hermione made a scandalized noise at the swearing. Ariel sucked in a deep breath and all of the courage she could muster, and rapped on the door with her knuckle. “Professor?”

He went completely rigid, only his eyes snapping up to the doorway. They glittered like two black beetles, bulging out of his head.

“Miss EVANS!” Snape boomed. Something inside of Filch’s office went CRACK. Hermione let of a squeak of surprise.

“I wanted my book —” Ariel started to say, but Snape looked like he was ready to launch himself out of the chair, had it not been for his leg.

“OUT!” he bellowed. “GET OUT!”

Ariel hesitated, which turned out to be a huge mistake, because Snape actually started trying to get up, and Ariel didn’t want to know what would happen if he made it to the doorway. She pulled Hermione back, the two of them sprinting the entire way back up to Gryffindor Tower.

Once they were safely back inside, Ariel hurried over to Ron, who was still — somehow — in the middle of the same chess match they had left him in. A quick glance at the board told her that not much had really changed, which was unsurprising. Ron could be incredibly indecisive sometimes, and he had Seamus bet a few sickles on this game.

Ariel grabbed Ron by the collar of his shirt and tugged. “We need to talk to you.”

“Oi! I’m kind of in the middle of something right now!” he protested, but Ariel was already dragging him away. Seamus didn’t even seem to notice — he was staring at the board like he’d gotten lost inside of it.

“Don’t touch anything!” Ron shouted, finally falling in step with Ariel and Hermione as they hurried over to an uninhabited part of the Common Room. She clutched at the stitch in her side as she and Hermione fell to the floor, still desperately trying to catch their breath. Her lungs felt like they were on fire.

“The dog — it got Snape.” Hermione wheezed just as Ron opened his mouth. “One of it’s mouths must’ve snagged him.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “What? When? How do you know?”

They quickly filled him in on everything that had happened. Over Ron’s shoulder, Ariel could see the chess pieces floating up in the air. Fred and George stood in the doorway of the boys’ dormitory, looking quite pleased with themselves. Ariel tried to shoot them a disapproving look, but they weren’t looking at her.

Ron furrowed his eyebrows together once they were done. “Why would he need to be checking on the Stone?”

“Because someone is trying to steal it!” Ariel said, a shiver passing through her, and for once, it had nothing to do with the cold. “Something must’ve happened.”

Ron looked skeptical. “Yeah but… if Snape was really hurt, why wouldn’t he use magic to heal himself?”

“I… don’t know.” Ariel said, searching her heart for an excuse, but unable to come up with one. It was a good point. Even if Snape hadn’t gone to the infirmary, why was he using old Muggle bandages for his leg?

Ron gave her a solemn look, his blue eyes lighter than usual, like when you could see the sky behind the stormcloud. “Well… what if Snape is the one trying to steal the Stone?”

“We’ve been over this,” Hermione said, sounding impatient. “Professor Dumbledore wouldn’t have —”

“Then why did the dog attack him?” Ron challenged. “Shouldn’t he know how to get past it to check on the Stone? Wouldn’t Professor Dumbledore have told him?”

Ariel quietly considered this as Ron and Hermione went back and forth. Maybe… maybe she’d been completely off.

An icy fist wrapped around her heart. It wouldn’t have been the first time Mum had been wrong. Maybe, just maybe, there had been a different reason Snape wanted nothing to do with her.

She looked up at Ron and Hermione, who quieted at the expression on her face.

“I have to tell you guys something,” she said.

—————

The next day, Ariel woke up earlier than the others, intent on settling herself on one of the sofas in the Gryffindor common room, one closest to the fireplace. Her feet felt like icicles, but her head felt surprisingly clear.

Lavender was snoring away as Ariel went inside the girl’s loo, scowling at her hair. It was getting longer, thank Merlin, but it still looked as though it couldn’t decide whether or not it wanted to be wavy or curly. It drove Ariel mad, especially when she was trying very hard to make it look somewhat good, but it was so infuriatingly short that there still wasn’t much Ariel could do. Pavarti had mentioned that there was some sort of potion that could make your hair grow, but Ariel had a feeling she wouldn’t have any of the ingredients, and she didn’t think Snape would be in a very giving mood.

She’d made up with Lavender last week, leaving a plate of biscuits on the bed, along with a note saying that she was sorry and felt horrid, which she was, and did. Lavender had immediately thrown her arms around her and asked if it was “that cow Pansy Parkinson causing her to be so moody,” which Ariel was all too eager to agree with.

When she was done trying to do something with her hair, she took out a sheet of parchment and a fresh quill, leaning on her Charms textbook so she could write. Ariel wrote Snape at the very top, and next to that, a giant question mark. Underneath the question mark, she wrote the words Mum, Dad, and then, Voldemort.

Beneath Mum she wrote friends with Snape, maybe love? and killing curse.

She tapped the quill against her chin. If Snape and Mum had been friends, and he’d loved her, and she’d maybe loved him back, what had happened? Ariel didn’t know anything about love, but she supposed that if you loved someone a certain way, you did everything you could to stay with that person, didn’t you? There was a difference between being in love and just loving someone, though. Mum had outright stated that she loved James… not that she was in love with him. The word love had never come up with Snape, but Ariel was here because of Snape, not James.

She looked at the James column and wrote loved Mum, loved me, killing curse. She didn’t know what else to write, but her throat felt uncomfortably tight. He had to have been in love with Mum, because you didn’t ask to marry someone not once, but twice if you didn’t.

You didn’t love a baby that wasn’t yours either.

Ariel huffed, looking between Mum and James, before finally deciding to tackle Snape. She didn’t really know what to put, because while he had confirmed that he was Mum’s friend, and had (sort of?) confirmed that he was her father, Ariel really didn’t know anything else. He hated Aunt Petunia, Dumbledore trusted him, and he hated literally everyone in the school, except maybe the professors and some of the Slytherins, and even that was stretching it. He was mean — a bully in every sense of the word —

He was interested in the Stone.

She wrote six question marks beneath Snape, and then glared at them. Even inside her brain, he was a mystery. He had saved Ariel from the Dursleys, and the cold, high voice that had chased her… but why? What did that mean? He’d saved Mum’s life, too… she’d said so in the letter. Maybe… maybe he’d been angry with Mum for marrying James? Although, if Snape was trying to steal the Stone, then why would he tell her about it in the first place?

Something hard and hot blossomed inside her heart — a feeling, a connection. Mum had felt this same confusion, hadn’t she? Snape had done the same thing to her, only she hadn’t been able to talk to him at all… because Snape had gone and joined something called the Death Eaters, whatever that meant.

That brought Ariel swiftly to the Voldemort column. Mum had talked a lot about him in the letter, what he’d been doing and how scared she was. There was a lot of stuff Ariel still didn’t understand, but it wasn’t like Snape was going to tell her anytime soon, so Ariel figured that she’d sort that out later. Voldemort had killed her Mum and James and unsuccessfully tried to kill Ariel. That was about it.

She glowered down at the parchment, which was becoming increasingly unhelpful.

She couldn’t help but think Voldemort had more to do with this than Mum had let on.

It was the most she’d ever thought about Voldemort, she realized. Sometimes, Ariel forgot that he was the reason her mum and dad were dead. She remembered Hagrid telling her all about what he’d done, not able to understand it all and that the reason it had ended had been… because of her.

That was… weird. Not as weird as Snape, though. She wondered what Snape would’ve done if Mum had told him from the beginning. There must’ve been something she’d seen in him, something Ariel didn’t.

She wondered what Snape saw in her. Maybe all he saw was her mum, dead because of —

That was when something in Ariel’s brain snapped into place. A horrible, wonderful ache filled her chest, the feeling of trying to swallow a hiccup, or hold back a laugh, or even a cry. Snape couldn’t stand her because —

she… had survived

and Mum had not.

Ariel looked up, her reflection bouncing off the tabletop beside her. She had Snape’s eyes, she’d come to realize, but her mother’s face, freckles and lips and nose and all. Snape probably looked at Ariel and thought “murderer.”

No — she quickly shook her head, trying to throw that thought far, far away from her. If Snape really thought that, he wouldn’t have saved her, wouldn’t have cared if Aunt Petunia kept her stuffed underneath a cupboard like a dustpan or not. Snape had to care at least a little bit… or maybe he felt like he had to protect Ariel, for Mum.

Something about that idea made her feel very small, like she was supposed to fit inside some neat, tidy box made for her, never to come out. Ariel crushed the parchment into a ball, and threw it into the fireplace.

She watched it burn, and for a brief moment, wished it was her flaking away, fading to ash.

—————

The Great Hall was buzzing with talk about the Quidditch match as the trio walked down for breakfast. Most of the older Gryffindors were wearing House colors, their faces streaked with red and gold body paint, flags and streamers laying across the table, mixed in amongst the breakfast food. The air itself seemed to be alive with excitement. Ariel was thankful for it — she wanted to forget, wanted to just enjoy a stupid game of Quidditch and worry about normal-people things.

Draco and the other first year Slytherins were staring at Ariel as they walked in, turning around to snigger when Ariel looked their way. Ron made a rude gesture at them, which Hermione immediately berated him for as they sat down to eat.

“You’ll get points taken!” Hermione scolded.

“It’s worth it,” Ron waved her off. “Especially today.”

Ariel and Hermione shared a look as they helped themselves to the breakfast spread. Fred and George were huddled together next to them with Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor team’s captain. Whatever they were talking about must’ve been important, because the twins looked pretty serious.

“What time is the game?” Ariel asked, munching on a piece of toast.

“Around eleven, I think.” Ron said, looking across the table at Neville, who was sitting down to join them. “You coming, Longbottom?”

Neville looked startled, like a deer caught in headlights. “M-me? Yeah, I’ll b-be there.”

“Brilliant, you can sit with us, then.” Ron said, grinning. “We’ve got to show our House spirit — this is an important game.”

“Why’s that?” Ariel asked, quirking an eyebrow. “It’s only the first one!”

“Yeah, but it’s against the Slytherins.” Ron made a face. “If we let them win, it’ll set the tone for the entire season! They’ll never let us hear the end of it.”

Ariel tried to picture Draco being more insufferable, and wanted to smash her head against the table. “Good point.”

As she reached for another piece of toast, something strange happened. It felt like her ears were suddenly clogged, filled with cotton or shoved underwater. Everyone was suddenly silent, the roar of conversations dampened. Ariel shook her head, trying to clear the fog, but it did nothing.

That was when Ariel saw it.

The darkness was seeping into the Great Hall through the main doors. It was silent, but it sucked all the light and noise into it. Ariel had never seen it move like this, crawling along the floor and walls like vines. Usually, when she saw it in her peripheral vision, it disappeared entirely, but the more she looked at it now, the stronger it seemed to become. The colors of the Great Hall, once vibrant, were now muted and dull.

Ariel frantically looked around, but no one else seemed to notice it. Ron was helping himself to the fried sausage, while Hermione chatted away with Parvarti, who seemed to be complimenting her hair for once, which she’d managed to wrangle back into a ponytail.

“Tell me,” a cold, high voice hissed, like hail beating against a windowpane. “tell me…”

It hadn’t spoken to her — not like this, not since That Night.

“Tell me,” it said again, louder, this time, a command. “Tell me what it said.”

Go away, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut. GO AWAY —

“Hey — hey, Evans, you okay?”

Someone was shaking her. When Ariel opened her eyes, everything was back to normal — the din of students and professors, the colors and the light streaming in through the windows. It was George’s hand on her arm, trying to get her attention.

She felt dizzy. “I — what?”

“Are you alright?” George asked again, ducking his head down to try and look at her. “You’re looking a little queasy.”

Ariel peered over at Ron and Hermione, concern plastered all over their faces.

“No — I mean, yeah, I’m okay… just tired.” she rubbed at her eyes, and shoved her trembling hands under the table. “I think I just need to eat.”

And then, as if things couldn’t get any worse, Ariel saw that Snape was sitting at the High Table.

His eyes were on her already, dark and intense, like he’d been waiting for her. Ariel’s heart skipped a beat, thrumming away like a hummingbird’s. Snape hadn’t been at a meal for almost two weeks — why was he here now? Because Ariel had forced him to talk to her? Or was it something else? He hadn’t followed them after Filch’s office —

Fred nudged her, noticing Snape’s murderous gaze. “What’d you do, lass?”

Ariel accidentally swallowed the toast she’d forgotten to chew. Ron gave her a few whacks on the back, saving her from choking right there and solving all of Snape’s problems. “I didn’t — do — anything,” she wheezed.

She was going to go lock herself in her dorm and never come out. So much for having fun today.

Ariel took a long swig of pumpkin juice, avoiding Hermione’s eyes.

“Cheer up, Evans,” George hung his arm around her shoulders. “we’re going to see to it that not even the greasiest git to ever live doesn’t ruin your first Quidditch game. Well, as long as you don’t choke to death first.”

Somehow, Ariel seriously doubted that, but she didn’t doubt for a second that this match was bound to be eventful… somehow.

——————

To be continued...
End Notes:

A/N: I apologize for being MIA the best three or so months. As you all probably know, the world is crazy, and being a teacher in a school has been crazier. I’ve been having rehearsals with my kids (six feet apart of course) and got permission to start a chamber group, so I’ve been really busy managing not one, not TWO, but THREE separate orchestras. I wouldn’t trade it for the entire world and then some, but holy shit, I am so thankful for this break.

If you could take a moment to leave a review, it would be really appreciated. Part of the reason I lost steam after last chapter is because I didn’t get much feedback, and it’s disheartening to not see much of a reaction after sitting down and writing for hours. I don’t have any intentions of abandoning this story, but I’d be lying if I said sometimes it’s hard to find motivation.

Chapter 12: wait for it by shostakobitch

Severus couldn’t recall ever dreading a Quidditch match as much as the one that would be occurring later this morning. He’d secretly been hoping that the pitch would be engulfed in a fiery inferno at some point between last night and the current moment in time, but as usual, Severus found himself disappointed.

He had no desire to sit amongst throngs of nitwits and listen to them lose their stupid little minds over flying broomsticks and balls. The only time Severus had even remotely enjoyed Quidditch had been when he’d attended games with Lily, and that had quickly ended when the House rivalries had really and truly set in, around their third year.

However, he had wanted to make it known to Miss Evans that following was not going to be tolerated in any way, shape, or form. For once, Severus was glad he’d listened to that insidious little voice, the cruel one that held nothing but contempt, when he’d watched the girl… disappear in the Great Hall this morning.

It had happened suddenly, and if Severus hadn’t been watching her as closely as he had, he likely would have missed it completely. Miss Evans had gone as still as a statue, her (his) dark eyes fixated on the entrance to the Great Hall, when all of a sudden, she’d gone white as a sheet, hands covering her ears —

Which was why Severus found himself following Miss Evans to the Quidditch pitch. The Weasley twerp and Granger were stuck to Miss Evans’ side like they’d been Hexed there with a Sticking charm. It was completely nauseating, the level of devotion they showed her. Severus could tell it drove Lucius’ son mad. Draco was constantly pining for the girl’s attention, but nothing about his wealth, his status, or his personality was appealing to her. Severus wished he could tell Draco how foolish he was — when he’d been his age, he had thought those same attributes would have impressed Lily.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Granger was fussing in that voice, the same one that called out during his class. She’d stopped doing it the past two weeks, and it was clearly an act of defiance, a show of support for Miss Evans. Severus couldn’t have given less of a fuck about what Granger thought of him, but he had taken something akin to delight in massacreing her papers in relatiation.

Severus had pretended like he wasn’t listening, but something was gnawing away at him whenever the girl was brought up, now. An insidious little voice that recited the same four words every time:

But she’s your child.

Severus wanted to take that voice and catapult it into the center of a volcano. He had shoved The Incident into the same box he kept Lily, that he kept his childhood and the things that had twisted him into the adult he was today. Severus was determined to make sure that Miss Evans was safe — nothing more. He would not think about… the other thing. He couldn’t afford to.

What more is a parent? Something inside him whispered, hollow and high, like wings riding a wind current.

The answer was standing in front of him — Granger’s imploring eyes, Weasley-twerp’s arm just barely touching Miss Evans’ shoulder. The little monsters cared about the girl, loved her, even. Merlin knew Miss Evans loved them, even in the short amount of time she’d known them. That was something she’d inherited from Lily — giving her devotion to whoever needed it, wanted it.

I don’t regret you, or seeing Severus, Lily’s letter had said. She had lived her life, however short, with no regret, no shadow hanging over her. What did it say about Severus, that his only regret had been Lily, and everything he’d done to her, to Potter, to her — their — child.

This thought hung over his head like a sword as Severus made his way to where the rest of the faculty was seated. The rest of them were already there, talking amongst themselves. Minerva was busying herself with making sure Jordan was settled in the commentator’s box. They seemed to be bickering about something, but with one stone cold glare from her, Jordan shut up and busied himself with making sure the microphone was adjusted properly.

Someone was already there that made Severus forget about Miss Evans for a moment.

Severus had not spoken to Dumbledore in thirteen days, nineteen hours, and three minutes. He’d been keeping this internal clock since The Incident, determined not to break it until the old coot came crawling back. It had been a betrayal of the highest degree, even if Dumbledore hadn’t known everything, he had known something was coming, and had allowed Severus to be blindsided, had allowed Miss Evans to carry around the burden of proof like it was some long forgotten heirloom Lily had left behind.

Lily would have wrung their necks if she knew how the people she’d entrusted with her child were handling this. She would have burned the fucking school to the ground.

“Hello, Severus.” Minerva greeted him as he reluctantly sat down beside her. Usually, Severus accompanied Dumbledore to these sorts of things, but he was almost certain that if Dumbledore came anywhere near his general vicinity, Severus would set his beard on fire.

He grunted in response, the players beginning their ascent. Fifteen broomsticks all trying to race each other into the sky, as if they wouldn’t have enough to worry about in just a few minutes time. Severus scanned the Gryffindor stands for the girl, finding her sitting right in front of Hagrid, Weasley-twerp and Granger sandwiching her in between them. Her face shone with excitement, far from the distressed and dazed expression in the Great Hall.

“Care to wager?” Minerva asked, tearing his attention away from the girl. “Though I’d hate to take advantage, I know for a fact that Wood has been training the team like dogs.”

If Severus heard one more mention of a dog, he was going to lose it. I don’t think it was dogs. Cheeky brat.

“I thought betting was beneath you.” Severus eyed Minerva from the corner of his eye. “Especially when it comes to children.”

“You may be the youngest of us all, but I hardly consider you to be a child, Severus.”

He glared at her. Minerva pretended not to notice, the corners of her lips twitching.

“I’ve already instructed the Slytherins to sacrifice one of their own to ensure victory.” Severus said flatly.

Minerva gave him a wry smile. “And I thought Quidditch was beneath you.”

“I hate Gryffindor pride even more.”

She gave a long sigh, but her eyes still held some semblance of amusement in them. “Well, I’ll leave you to wallow, then. Unfortunately, I have to ensure that Mr Jordan doesn’t have too much to run with. It is only the first game, after all.”

“You seemed to have misplaced your confidence, Minerva.” Severus called to her as she settled herself next to the boy. He didn’t envy her — he would’ve catapulted the brat from the stands the second the game started if he had to listen to his rambling, only two feet away.

Quirrell was three or so rows behind him, the considerable distance between them not lost on Severus. Pomona and Filius sat in the front row, beside Dumbledore, who had not once turned to look back behind him. Severus glared mutinously at the back of his head. His robes were tangerine today, and though it sounded ridiculous, Severus couldn’t help but wonder if Dumbledore had worn such an offensive color to ensure that he was definitively seen. It was the manipulative, offhanded bullshit Severus was accustomed to after working with him for a decade.

Miss Evans was waving to the Weasley twins, now, who have ducked below to wave at her and her cronies. She shouted something to one of them, and they blew an overdramatized kiss to her, which caused her face to nearly split open from the force of the smile. It was radiant — the happiest Severus had ever seen her.

Severus quickly scrubbed that thought from his thoughts — he was here to watch the girl and make sure that there wasn’t anything suspicious going on. That was it. He couldn’t handle anything more.

He decided to turn his attention momentarily to the game, loathed as he was to do so. Jordan was going strong, the Gryffindor’s already in possession of the Quaffle. Flint had assembled a strong team this year, which gave Severus some semblance of hope. It wasn’t so much the victory he enjoyed, rather that he could gloat until the start of the next school year, gleefully knocking Minerva down several pegs.

“Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead, and off she goes!”

Weasley-twerp cupped his hands around his mouth, hollering something Severus couldn’t make out. Whatever it was, it caused Miss Evans and Hagrid to chuckle.

“She’s really flying, that Johnson, dodging a speeding Bludger with all the grace only a woman that attractive can possess —”

“Jordan!” Minerva gave the boy a warning glare.

“Sorry, sorry — the goalposts are ahead, come on now Angelina! Keeper Bletchley dives — misses — GRYFFINDOR SCORE!”

The Gryffindors roared, Miss Evans and Granger clapping with delight. Severus rolled his eyes as the Weasley-twerp hooted, pumping his fists into the air.

“There goes that damn Bludger again — it’s really trying, but these flyers are quite nimble today —”

The Bludger was suddenly spinning off the field. Severus hadn’t seen it miss anyone, so what had —

He heard the children scream, saw Miss Evans dive out of the way just in time, and his heart stopped in his chest. He could feel it strangling him, twisting around his ribs and down to his stomach. It hurt to breathe.

Severus sprang out of his seat, Minerva jumping up beside him. “Merlin and Morgana, what in heaven’s name was —”

The Bludger had swung back around, Granger and Weasley-twerp helping Miss Evans up and off the floor of the stands. The surrounding students all came forward, clearly looking to make sure she was alright, when the Bludger came barrelling towards the girl once more. Luckily this time Hagrid wasn’t taken off guard, his hand flying outward to smack it away. The Bludger quickly rebounded, not missing a single beat.

The students shrieked as they scattered again, like a swarm of bees. Miss Evans yelled something and pointed, pulling her and Granger out of the way just in time. The Bludger collided with the stands, the wood splintering on impact.

Jordan had noticed, too. “It seems we have a Bludger out of play — do we think it’s a coincidence that it’s the Slytherin’s Bludger?”

“Jordan!” Minerva snapped.

“Sorry — I mean, this would be a gross and obvious display of cheating —”

“Jordan, I am warning you —”

Severus couldn’t feel his hands anymore. The Bludger beat against the stands, against the exact spot when Miss Evans had been, like it was practicing what it wanted to do to her skull.

The girl had pulled herself and Granger behind the stands, now separated from Weasley-twerp. The boy fought to get to them, but Hagrid was corralling the students away, yelling at them to stand back. Students started piling out of the stands, though a few of the older ones began casting Hexes at the Bludger, trying to undo whatever bewitchment had been placed on it. The Bludger turned its sights on them, then, giving them chase as they dove out of the way. Luckily, this gave Miss Evans just enough time to drag herself and Granger below the stands and out of view.

Severus looked back at Quirrell, his eyes glued to the scene, too, his hand over his mouth in what appeared to be abject horror. There were too many people, too many suspects around, but someone was fucking with that damn Bludger, but who —

He started reciting the counter-curse, keeping his eyes on the girl. It hovered mid-air for a few moments, prickles of relief traveling up his spine, until it began to shake violently. Severus forced the spell out quicker, not faltering with his precision, but he could feel the pull of magic slicing through — it wasn’t enough.

His eyes finally went to Dumbledore, who had stood, his blue eyes icy.

Their gaze met, and Severus took off.

———

Ariel could hear Ron shouting for her and Hermione below the stands. Every time a student got close to try and get them out and to safety, the Bludger would lurch forward, like it was having some sort of fit. She couldn’t figure out why it had stopped smashing inside against the benches, but she wasn’t going to complain about it.

She really preferred the troll to this, though.

Fred swung by, grabbing the Bludger as Ariel peeked out. She watched in horror as it fought against him, one hand around the demon-ball, the other holding onto his broom for dear life.

“NO —” Ariel started to shout, but it was drowned out by the commotion.

“Go, Evans!” Seamus was hollering. “Go! Get out of there!”

“Ariel, we have to move!” Hermione said, her eyes wide with fear. “It’s going to force its way through!”

As if the Bludger had overheard them, it broke free of Fred’s grasp, barrelling towards them once again. Fred broom went spiraling towards the ground, the entire stadium letting out a collective shriek that made Ariel’s eardrums rattle. From up above them, Ariel heard some of the other students shouting spells, crackles of gold and blue echoing overheard. She peeked through the slits beneath the stands, trying to get a look at the professors and what they were doing. Professor Quirrell looked absolutely horrified, his hand clamped over his mouth — Professor McGonagall was making her way over to Dumbledore, who was —

— watching something else Ariel couldn’t see. She scanned the stands for Snape, but he wasn’t there, but he had been, she’d seen him just a few seconds ago. Where had he gone?

A sinking feeling pulled at her, making her eyes blurry. They couldn’t make a run for it, the Bludger was too bloody fast, and Ariel couldn’t live with herself if something happened to Hermione —

That was when the Bludger started up again. Ariel and Hermione screamed, clutching at each other as it rammed itself against the wood. She could hear each deafening crack as the wood came apart, the Bludger’s movements getting more and more desperate. She couldn’t let this happen, Hermione would get hurt, and it would be all her fault —

have some fire

Ariel stood up, worming herself through the opening. The Bludger had stopped, like it knew.

Hermione tried to wrestle her back, but she was too slow. “No, Ariel, NO —”

———

Both teams had picked up that something had gone wrong outside of their game. Hooch had begun blowing her whistle frantically as Severus raced towards the girl, barrelling through the throngs of students, all craning their necks to see what all the commotion was. The seventh years Gryffindor had been forced to flee when the Bludger began aiming itself at their heads, instead, meaning that it was only a matter of seconds until —

Severus could hear his voice, distant and muted, commanding the little monsters to get the fuck out of the way. His heart felt like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest, a panicked rhythm hammering away against his ribs as he made his way towards Lily’s daughter. She was so close, but the Bludger had set its sights on her once again, and Miss Evans was —

Granger pulling on her arm, trying to drag her back down as the girl climbed out. “No, Ariel, no!”

But Granger was too late — Miss Evans was standing on top of the bench, shouting at Bludger. “Hey! It’s me you want, yeah? Come and get me!”

She was —

more importantly, my boy, she is yours

Severus lifted his wand as the Bludger fired. “Protego!”

The Shield went up in the knick of time, knocking Miss Evans backwards. Severus didn’t bother looking to see what or where the Bludger had gone.

“Get up,” Severus snarled, reaching his hand blindly towards her. “Now.”

Miss Evans took his hand without hesitation, her (his) dark eyes fixed on his. Severus grabbed the girl, swinging her around him. She was small (too small, fucking PETUNIA), which in this moment, worked to his advantage as he shot out of the stands with her in tow.

“Professor—“ Miss Evans tried to say, but Severus heard the rush of air behind him, the crowd screaming —

“Reducto!” Severus shouted.

It exploded, the shards cascading around them like fireworks. Severus tugged Miss Evans beneath his cloak, shielding her eyes with one hand, and his own with the other.

The girl stared up at him, eyes wide. “Whoa,” was all she said.

Severus could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the edges of his vision shimmering. He knelt down in front of the girl, looking her over for any noticeable injuries. Vaguely aware that he was saying something, that he was asking the girl questions, Severus kept his eyes trained on hers (his).

It wasn’t long before Granger and the Weasley-twerp were throwing themselves at the girl, followed swiftly by Minerva and Poppy. They carried her away, a sea of worry and concern and relief, but something inside of Severus was still ticking down. The explosion hadn’t gone off — he was simply suspended in time, waiting for the real strike.

That was the moment Severus knew that whatever had decided to go after the Stone wanted the girl now, too.

And he was going to kill them if it was the last thing he did.

————

Ariel dreamt of the woman in the mirror, again.

There the woman stood in front of some sort of large vanity with an attached mirror. Her hair was shoulder length, but covering most of her face in waves. When she looked up to the glass, she did not look at herself, but at the space behind it, as if she knew Ariel was there, watching her, even though she couldn’t see who it was.

When Ariel awoke, she was shaking. There was an indescribable feeling in her chest, like she had lost something precious she could never recover.

her piercing anguish rising high above the foam

Hermione was curled up beside her, facing the opposite way, towards Parvarti’s bed. Her breathing was soft and shallow, a comforting noise in the otherwise silent room. They’d fallen asleep hours ago, Lavender braiding Ariel’s hair in an attempt to make her feel better after what had happened at the Quidditch match, but it hadn’t done much. There was a sinking pit in her stomach that kept growing the more Ariel thought about it.

The darkness would’ve been unfair enough, but now other things were starting to go after her. The Bludger had kept them all so distracted that they hadn’t been able to see who was doing the bewitching. Ron had sworn up and down that he’d seen Snape muttering something under his breath, but Snape had been the one to save her. He’d stood between her and that Bludger, his arm around her, making sure that not even the Shield spells harmed her.

Ariel almost didn’t want it to admit it, but the second Snape had appeared, all of her fear had vanished, like a candle in the wind. He’d asked her if she was alright at least ten times before everyone else had started to glom her, and all Ariel could do was nod at him jerkily instead of thanking him or asking him what happened, or how he’d gotten over there so bloody fast.

the wanderer weary, full of fear

Maybe it was a sign that she never should have opened Mum’s letter. It had been like Pandora’s box, the troll, the darkness, that cold, high voice, and the stupid Bludger following.

She brought her pillow to her face, burying her face in it as she stifled a sob. It was beginning to feel like too much. She wanted it to stop. She wanted things to go back to normal, to do boring old Charms homework, being terrible at flying and practicing Stinging Hexes to use on Malfoy.

Ariel whispered an apology to Hermione, and slipped out of the room.

————

Severus had not bothered to try and sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he heard the sickening THWACK of the Bludger crunching the stands down to sawdust, and the girl’s steely gaze, unafraid, unwavering, unmoving.

It was a quarter past midnight, the fire dying in the hearth, and a third of a bottle of firewhiskey had. Dumbledore had tried to come through his Floo three times already, but Severus had disconnected it after The Incident. It was pointless, anyway — Severus destroyed the Bludger, and any evidence along with it. They both already knew that there was someone inside the fucking school after the Stone, but what that had to do with Miss Evans evaded Severus. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, the answer right below his hooked nose. The writing on the wall was a tongue he couldn’t understand, the letters blurred and dimly lit. Something was happening, but what the sodding fuck did it have to do with Lily’s daughter?

He knew that eventually he’d be forced to have a discussion with Dumbledore, take more protective measures, but for now, Severus just needed to bob on his sea of Occlumency — alone. It was the only thing keeping him from a nervous breakdown.

you can’t protect her

hide them, hide them all

Severus thought about Lily.

He’d been carefully unraveling the memory of her, like it was a sacred jewel or parchment long thought lost. The memory she’d left him had bound itself back into his thoughts, reweaving itself into a tapestry of emotions, both past and present. There were moments where Severus found himself cursing her for writing the damn letter, others where he would’ve given anything to read those words again, to hold a piece of Lily in his hands. Her words had been sloppy and irregular, which was unlike her, but spoke volumes about the state in which she’d penned it. A letter that was only meant to be read if she were dead — for a child Lily knew she would fight for, until her last breath.

Above all was the soul-crushing guilt that had accompanied it all. Severus had killed her, and now, he had somehow been afforded the privilege of watching their daughter grow up. Well, that was, if Miss Evans made it past this year without inanimate objects fracturing her skull.

Severus wished, above all else, in the deepest part of that untouchable box, that Lily would have told him. He would’ve moved heaven and Earth to make sure they had been safe. Potter had been naive — so, so young, but naive. The Dark Lord would have hunted them until the ends of the Earth if he thought the child was in any way a threat. Severus tried to connect the subject of the Prophecy to the girl, who slept only several floors away, and felt his heart stutter.

The powers that be had a truly twisted sense of irony.

Severus’ waves of Occlumency carried him away from things he wanted to forget. That was, until —

BANG BANG BANG

Severus slammed his fist down, intent on mangling whatever little fatuous cretin needed him now of all times. He threw open the door, a Child Appropriate “fuck off” on his lips, when he saw her.

It was Miss Evans, which was the exact moment Severus realized he was hopelessly ill-equipped when she decided to force his existence to interact with his. She stared up at him wordlessly, her traveling cloak wrapped securely around her person. The soft glow of the fire reflected off of her (his) eyes. They gave him one request.

He really shouldn’t have been surprised.

Severus narrowed his eyes down at her, but he couldn’t find the energy to be angry with Miss Evans, even though a distant voice screamed at him to take ten million points from Gryffindor. He was too tired — she had successfully worn him down.

He moved aside, a silent invitation. Miss Evans said nothing as she slipped past him.

“I assume you’re aware that you’re breaking curfew.” Severus said, trying to summon as much displeasure into his voice as he could. It seemed to have worked — the girl cringed.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Miss Evans said — her eyes said as much. There were the beginnings of dark circles underneath them, her hair a tangled mess of red.

Severus made a disapproving noise, but motioned for Miss Evans to sit in one of the chairs adjacent to his desk. He rapped the desk twice with his knuckle, “Hot chocolate.”

The girl’s eyes went as big as bowls as the steaming mug materialized in front of her. “How’d you do that?”

“Magic.” he stifled the urge to roll his eyes. “Drink that, it’ll help.”

She eyed the mug suspiciously. “How? Did you put something in it?”

“Chocolate has healing properties.”

Miss Evans gingerly picked it up from the bottom. “Why would I need to be healed?”

“Forgive me,” Severus sneered, if only to mask how much he wanted to balk. “I believe you had a rather eventful Quidditch match, if my memory recalls correctly.”

The girl grimaced. She looked like Lily when she did that. Her nose scrunched up the same exact way, paling the freckles around her nose. “I knew I hated flying.”

Something warm nestled beneath his ribs at her words. Severus studied her carefully as she blew on the mug, giving it a few sniffs before deciding it was probably safe to drink.

“Thank you for saving me.” Miss Evans said quietly. She looked up at him with such earnesty, that Severus couldn’t look her fully in the face. It felt like staring into the sun for too long.

Severus didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. Saving Miss Evans was his entire existence, now.

“Do you know what happened?” Miss Evans asked, peering up at him hesitantly. “Hermione said someone must’ve Jinxed the Bludger to come after me.”

Severus waited until she took a sip of the hot chocolate to answer. “Miss Granger should not have been the only witch to come to that conclusion.”

Miss Evans scowled — he recognized that scowl, the sharpness of her cheekbones and the intensity in her dark eyes.

He wasn’t going to survive this. There was no rational path that would lead Severus out of this unharmed. How had he not seen it before?

“I knew that,” Miss Evans said in a voice that sounded put-off, but conveyed every inch of the child she was. “You know what I mean. Do you know why it happened? Or who did it?”

Severus gave her a long, searching look. “It could have been a student executing a prank gone horribly wrong,” it wasn’t, “or a malfunctioning Bludger,” it wasn’t, “or something much more… sinister. It could have happened to any of the students.”

Not just any student, Conscience said, the Girl-Who-Lived, all thanks to you, Severus Snape

Miss Evans didn’t miss a beat. “What about… that thing that followed me, right after Halloween?”

His eyes narrowed. “What about it? Did you see it during the match?”

The girl set down the mug, her mouth set in a hard, thin line. She must’ve picked up on that from Minerva. “No, I didn’t.”

“Then what relevance does it have?”

“I’m not stupid.” Miss Evans stared him down, over the steaming mug. “I know somethings going on, I just can’t tell if it’s because of the Stone, or because of me.”

Severus settled back in his chair, trying to stifle the urge to hit something. He had been avoiding this idea since Miss Evans had first seen what she called “the darkness.” There was only one possible connection between the Stone and the girl, but it was impossible, not with Dumbledore here, not with the fortress of spells and wards surrounding the school.

The Dark Lord being anywhere near the school was enough to make Severus’ blood run cold, a hollow feeling in his bones that howled like winter, but it was the only explanation he could think of. Unless, the Dark Lord was directly influencing someone here, but who —

Severus would get his answer sooner than he thought. The girl set the mug down, her hands shaking.

“I… I have to tell you something.” Miss Evans looked up at him nervously. “Somethings happening, and I don’t know how to make it stop.”

————

Ariel watched Snape carefully when she had finished. His eyes were closed, but she could see a vein in his temple pulsing, like there was some horrible creature trying to rip it’s way free. Ariel looked around at the… things suspended in that weird, bluish-green goo in the jars, and shuddered. She wondered if any of them had popped out of people’s skulls. Probably.

(That was a little cool, she thought to herself)

“How long?” Snape finally asked, the shadows dancing across his face. His expression was unreadable, but it hurt to stare at it for too long.

She shrugged — Snape’s hands turned into claws on the desk. She quickly racked her brain for an answer that wouldn’t end in the dungeons being brought down around them. “Since the night I told you… about you-know-what.” she said quickly.

“What does it say?” Snape asked in a voice that told her that he didn’t really want to know the answer.

“The voice?” Ariel stifled a shiver, thinking back to this morning, when the world had gone grey and cold, like she’d been plunged to the bottom of a lake. “Today was the first time that’s happened. It wanted me to tell it something.”

“What?” Snape finally snapped, the muscles in his neck strained. “Are you trying to be purposefully obtuse?”

“I don’t know, I told you!” Ariel threw back. “I have no idea what it wants!”

Snape seemed to be biting back a scream. “Has it ever happened in Gryffindor Tower?”

Ariel paused, thinking. She’d been having weird dreams, but no actual darkness had come through up there. “No, I don’t think so.”

“What about my classroom?”

She shook her head slowly. “No… not there, either.”

Snape leaned back in his chair, his hands pressed together, resting just below his chin. “Your scar, has it bothered you?”

Ariel opened and closed her mouth several times. “How’d you know?”

“You mentioned that it had done so after the first time.” he stared at like, his gaze intense.

“What does it mean?” Ariel asked, trying to sound brave and big and strong — like Snape — but it came out small and timid. She hated feeling this way. She’d never been scared of the Dursleys, had never feared what they could do to her. They were so consistent in showing her how much they hated her that Ariel knew their patterns, like when Aunt Petunia took her grocery shopping, she’d leave Ariel there.

The darkness had spoken to her. If it could do that… what else could it do? Ariel didn’t very much feel like finding out.

Snape’s black eyes glittered, but he was focused on something else, she could tell. He was staring at the spot just above her head. “You tell me.” he said.

Ariel stared at him, taken off guard. “How would I know that? It’s obviously whoever’s trying to steal the Stone, right?”

He leaned forward with gritted teeth. “And wouldn’t a revelation like that warrant the appropriate intervention?”

“Who was I supposed to tell?” Ariel asked, giving him a pointed look. “You wouldn’t talk to me!”

“You could have told one of the countless capable ADULTS —”Snape's voice rose, like the tide pulling back and forth.

“Like who?” Ariel said, leaning forward in her chair. “You’re the only one who knew, and you haven’t even looked at me since the floating room!”

“And you decided to retaliate by not telling anyone about the disembodied voice that has been stalking you!” Snape hurled back. “Do you have a death wish, or is it simply the gift that bravery provides you and the other Gryffindor halfwits?”

“I didn’t even tell Ron and Hermione until yesterday!” she could hear her voice getting louder, but she didn’t care anymore. “I didn’t know!”

Snape’s eyes glittered dangerously. “You have been nothing but trouble since that letter, using it as an excuse to be foolish and reckless.”

“You didn’t want it!” Ariel shouted, leaping from her chair. “You didn’t want anything to do with me! You act like Mum never existed, that it doesn’t matter that she’s not here —”

The SCREECH of a chair made her stop. Snape had stood, his chest heaving, something wild moving behind his eyes. It wasn’t the light, it was the thing Ariel had seen right after she’d shown him The Truth. It stared at her, making her entire nervous system quiver.

“Every — day — I am reminded that she is gone.” Severus hissed. “Why do you think I’m here, girl? Because I relish watching her only living child walk the same halls she once did? I am here for one reason only, and that is to make sure that you stay alive. I cannot do that if you don’t tell me these things.”

She wasn’t prepared for how much his words disarmed her. She wasn’t prepared for how small they made her feel, or how hearing him finally acknowledge that Mum was gone, and that it hurt someone other than her, was going to strike her heart.

“I didn’t know.” Ariel said, mostly to herself, helplessly. “I didn’t know it was real, and I didn’t know who to trust. I’m sorry.”

Snape moved from behind his desk. For a split second, Ariel was quite sure that he was going to throw her out (again), but instead, he came around to the front of the desk, leaning against it, one leg crossed over the other. He stared down at her, still deeply vexed, but that pinprick of light was back in his eyes. It was a strange expression, one Ariel had not yet added to her Snape and His Expressions library. Everything he said and did needed to be run through some sort of machine inside of her brain since Snape refused to talk like a normal human being.

“I know this has been… difficult.” he finally said. It was a toneless voice, one Ariel couldn’t get a read on at all. She wondered how he was doing that, after getting so worked up.

She gripped the sides of the chair. “You mean the giant smoke monster? Or the cursed ball that tried to off me today?”

Snape’s face did not change, but he inclined his head. “Certainly those… amongst other things.”

It took Ariel a few seconds to realize what in the world he was talking about. It hit her like an electric shock, making her sit up a little straighter. Snape had never willingly brought up… other things. She racked her brain for something to say, but it felt like she’d gone into overdrive, too many thoughts, too many things she wanted to say, ask, do, demand of him.

Snape must’ve seen that her brain was short circuiting, because he looked bored, like he was waiting for her to reboot.

“I… didn’t burn it.” Ariel finally decided on. “The letter, I mean. The Protection Charm is back on it, though.”

He seemed to consider this, giving her a long, searching look. “It was yours to do with as you wished.”

That sounded like a question, in Snape-speak. “I didn’t think Mum would want me to get rid of it. I… couldn’t do it.”

“I doubt she wanted you to do anything other than read it.” he said coldly. He looked… empty.

“She wanted me to show you.” Ariel shot back. “That’s something other than reading.”

He flinched — it wasn’t a regular flinch, but it was so subtle that if she hadn’t been watching she would’ve missed it.

“Did you… really not remember?” Ariel asked softly. “You had no idea, even when the Blood Wards stopped working?”

“Does the word Obliviate evade you?”

Ariel bit her lip. “It didn’t, Mum didn’t know what was going to happen. I don’t think a letter was the best way to do it.”

The mask dropped, his face troubled. “What else did you expect of her?”

“I don’t know.” she said, feeling stupid and selfish. “Would you have wanted her to tell you? When she found out about me?”

Snape bowed his head, his hair hiding his face like a curtain. He didn’t say anything for a minute or so.

“It was a very different world, back then.” he finally said, not meeting her imploring gaze. “Your mother did the right thing.”

Ariel swallowed back the lump in her throat. “Did she do the right thing when she wrote that letter?”

His eyes flashed, that impossible light inside them shining back at her. They were a lighthouse, trying to get her to see the shoreline clearly, but the light was dim and quick. It reminded her of the Snitch at the game. Ariel would’ve hated to be the Seeker — it seemed dreadfully tedious.

“It is impossible to tell.” Snape said, slowly, deliberately, painfully. “That has yet to reveal itself.”

Ariel ran this through by her Snape-Department living inside of her brain. “I don’t think so.”

The light inside his eyes went out — the lighthouse gone, for now. It faded, the lines in his face so sharp, they could’ve cut glass.

“You said your mother couldn’t have known what would happen.” Snape’s voice was so deep, it didn’t have a bottom. “I would stand by that statement, given the circumstances.”

Ariel tucked her knees under her chin, bringing her feet atop the chair. If Snape disapproved, he didn’t say so. “I’m glad she told me. It eliminated you as a suspect, Well, at least it had, but Ron thinks —”

Snape’s head jerked up sharply. A suspect of what, exactly?”

An alarm starting blaring inside of her head, flashing lights and sirens galore. Ariel clamped her mouth shut, wanting to smash her head against the desk. How could she have said something so stupid when Snape had been willingly enagaged with her? She’d been trying to be honest and open, because that did seem to work with Snape, but questioning his integrity was —

DANGER DANGER DANGER, screamed her brain. ABORT MISSION, ABORT —

“Nothing,” Ariel said, shaking her head wildly. “it doesn’t matter.”

“I think it very much does.” Snape said in a deadly voice. She could feel it poisoning the air around them.

“It was just a stupid theory, but I know it can’t be you — I don’t think it’s you —”

“Miss Evans —” his voice was getting quieter and quieter — when Snape got angry, he got quiet, and it was only a matter of seconds until he let her have it.

Ariel took a deep breath. “We thought it’s you trying to steal the Stone. Ron… made a good point. Every time something happens, you’re right there, and you’re the one who told me about the Stone in the first place. You keep saving me, though… so that doesn’t really make much sense, does it?”

She didn’t see him move, he moved so fast. She wondered if he’d done that teleporting thing they’d done at Aunt Petunia’s — what had it been called? Appropriating? Appropo? She couldn’t remember, but the next thing Ariel knew, he was practically on top of her.

Snape knelt down in front of her, so close that their knees touched. The lighthouse was back, the light not warm, nor cold, but blinding.

“If you think there is any part of me that would hurt you,” Snape said, in a voice that was barely a whisper, but was so loud that it hurt to listen to, raw and cruel. “you are not only foolish, but clearly illiterate.”

There was a feeling like starlight inside her heart. The more she looked at Snape, the brighter it grew.

takes on last breath

Ariel swallowed her fear in one gulp. “Prove it, then.”

His hand gripped the arm of the chair, like it was a lifeline.

and leaps

“As you wish.” said Snape.

————

To be continued...
End Notes:

A/N: Admittedly, I think THIS was my favorite chapter to write so far. Poor lil babies, finally having a conversation! *blows kazoos and pops streamers*

Thank you all for your incredibly kind words in the last chapter. They really pushed me with this one, to the point where I didn’t want to stop writing. I think my brain is so used to WORK WORK WORK that this was such a contrast in comparison.

Anyway, I would be lying if I said after this week that my work/grad school life will be any easier. I promise to try and update as much as I can, when I can. If you could leave a review on this chapter, it will be hoarded in my email account so I can go back and read them obsessively :P

Please stay safe out there. Death to 2020, woohoo!

Chapter 13: unchartered by shostakobitch

Ariel couldn’t decide whether or not Hagrid was a wonderful friend, or a really, really terrible secret keeper as she exited his hut.

She decided the answer was probably both as the door shut behind them, Hagrid’s worried voice carrying through the cracks as he spoke to what Ariel hoped was presumably Fang. She’d come with Ron and Hermione for tea, and to discuss the Quidditch match, but then Hagrid had let the name Nicholas Flamel slip, and soon enough, he was muttering and shooing them out, as if he’d had a bad fright.

“I can’t believe this,” Ron said, the three of them huddled together for warmth as they headed back up to the castle. “after all that’s happened, we have a right to know!”

Ariel sighed, watching her breath hang in the air like smoke before it disappeared. It wasn’t a discouraged sigh, or an indifferent one, but it caused Hermione to turn to look at her, a question in her brown eyes. Ariel shook her head at her, the silent exchange between them lost on Ron, who continued to huff and puff in annoyance.

“Hagrid’s already told us too much as it is,” said Hermione, her lips pressed together. “I don’t want him to get into any trouble.”

Ariel nodded in agreement, trying to picture Snape’s face if he knew what Hagrid had just told him. He’d probably have broken one of Hagrid’s rock cakes over his head.

“Yeah, but Ariel almost had her head knocked off by that Bludger, something is happening!” Ron said, kicking the dirt road with his boots.

Both Ariel and Hermione winced at his choice of words. Her boots went crunchcrunchcrunch over grass and dead leaves, the path up to the school seeming much farther than the trek down to Hagrid’s. It was beginning to get dark, the sun settling itself behind the treeline, like it was making itself comfortable beneath the cover at its own pace. It reminded Ariel of getting into bed after a long day.

“Well, we have a name.” Ariel said, trying to sound optimistic. “That’s a start, don’t you think?”

“Nicholas Flamel… it sounds so familiar,” Hermione said, eyebrows knitting together in deep thought. “I swear I’ve heard it somewhere before.”

“I’m sure you’ve read it in at least one of your books.” Ron offered, rather unhelpfully. Ariel shot him A Look — he’d been in a horrible mood since lunch, when Malfoy and Pansy had come over and reenacted the Bludger scene at the Quidditch game for them. Ron had tried to jump over the table to pummel Malfoy himself, but Ariel had managed to scrawl “kick me” on a napkin, place a Sticking Charm on it, and had it over to Fred, who’d levitated it onto Malfoy’s back as he and Pansy had left the Great Hall.

“Well, I’m going to the library to find out,” Hermione said, a hopeful expression on her face. “We’ll be able to find out more if there’s three of us looking.”

“Of course,” Ariel said, and Hermione smiled.

“As long as we’re done in time for dinner, I’m okay with it.” Ron said, his stomach voicing it’s opinion of the matter just then. “Those rock cakes Hagrid put out made what we brewed in Potions yesterday look like Christmas dinner.”

“We’ll be quick,” Ariel promised. “Besides, I have to be back in time for my detention.”

Snape had awarded Ariel with two months of detention for sneaking out. This was, of course, an elaborate ruse. He’d promised to help her discourage the Giant Smoke Monster from following her, and he had upheld his promise… well, at least so far, he had. Ariel was on day five of detention, which wasn't really a detention. Snape had ordered her to sit down and do whatever homework she had neglected, and then disappeared into his storerooms. Then, he’d walk her back up to Gryffindor Tower without a single word, and that was that.

It was… not what Ariel had hoped for, but it was a start. Not to mention the coin Snape had given her. It was Charmed so that if she held it in her palm and thought of a message, he would receive it on his, only he got a pocket watch. Ariel didn’t know how to make a bloody coin look inconspicuous, but she gave herself another week before she lost it.

He’d given her one rule: no one was to know the truth about the detentions, or about the coin — not even Ron and Hermione. Ariel had tried to protest it, because they were her friends and she trusted them, but she was swiftly learning that Snape didn’t trust literally anyone. He’d made her swear it, and Ariel wasn’t about to go breaking any promises to him anytime soon.

It was something, and it was more than enough for Ariel, for now. The trade-off was that while Ariel and Snape tried to track the Giant Smoke Monster, she was trying to figure out what the bloody hell was so damn important about this Stone Fluffy was guarding, and who really wanted it with Ron and Hermione’s help.

And Snape didn’t know that. So it was even, really. The secrets she kept made everything fair, in her mind.

Ron gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, mate. I don’t know how you’ve made it this far already.”

Ariel shrugged. “It’s not so bad.”

He shuddered. “Whatever you say. I’d take scrubbing bedpans by hand over those creepy dungeons any day.”

She sighed again, trying to block out Ron’s negativity. She didn’t blame him — Snape was a git and had been downright horrible to them all, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that had enveloped her since the night of the Quidditch match. The lighthouse in Snape’s eyes was her only beacon now, the only thing she trusted to keep whatever was in the school away from her and her friends.

She was beginning to get the feeling that there was something Snape wasn’t telling her, though. Something about the Giant Smoke Monster put a quiet desperation in his eyes, one Ariel couldn’t quite place as a product of it being out of his control, or because it was interested in her.

every day I am reminded she is gone

I am here for one reason only and that is

to make sure you stay

alive

“Do you think Hagrid knows who’s after the Stone?” Ron’s question sliced through Ariel’s thoughts like a butcher knife. “Maybe that’s why he won’t tell us anything.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Hermione quipped, but Ariel saw her eyes scan the grounds warily. “If Hagrid knew, then Professor Dumbledore would know, and there wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Yeah but… who in the school would want it that badly? Why doesn’t this Nicholas Flamel just keep it?” Ariel asked, frowning. “They’ve already let a troll in the school and sent that Bludger after me.”

Enough to kill you for it, a cold, dark voice whispered.

“Someone who knows what it’s meant for.” said Hermione, grimacing.

“It better be something good,” Ron said, almost bitterly, but it was diluted by something else, something Ariel couldn’t place. “all this trouble for a rock.”

“But who here would try to steal it?” Ariel asked quietly. “It can’t be a student… no one else knows besides the three of us and the teachers, and Dumbledore trusts all of them.”

“I still don’t think we should cross Snape off the list yet.” Ron said darkly, but Ariel noticed that his eyes flickered to her, a sort of hesitant fear in his eyes, like he was testing the waters.

“If it were Snape, he would’ve done something already.” Ariel said, hardening her gaze. This argument had come up in Hagrid’s hut too, and while Ariel couldn’t give Hermione and Ron the concrete proof that Snape was innocent, Hagrid had been adamant that Snape wasn’t trying to steal the Stone, let alone trying to harm a student.

Hermione went quiet. “Maybe… maybe whoever wants it isn’t trying to steal it for themselves.”

That was when Ariel saw it move. It was quick, but as they ascended the stairs back into the school, the smokey darkness moved across the entrance, like a train passing through a graveyard. It moved with purpose, Ariel could tell. It wanted her to see it. It had waited for her.

She didn’t know how she knew that.

Ariel froze, her blood running cold. Ron noticed that she’d stopped walking first, his eyes darting from Ariel, and then back to the entrance. His face didn’t hold anything other than concern, his eyes shining with worry.

“You okay?” Ron asked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to complain about Snape, I just —”

“It’s fine.” Ariel pushed past him, catching up with Hermione, who had stopped just past the main entrance. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Wait — hey, Ariel, I’m really sorry.” Ron pleaded, but Ariel barely registered what he was saying. She just wanted to get away and into the Great Hall, surrounded by other people, and fast.

Ariel pulled Hermione with her as Ron hurried to catch up behind them. She gripped at her hand, making a beeline towards the Great Hall. The smell of roast chicken wafted through the foyer along with the din of students, and there was safety in numbers.

“The library —” Hermione started, but Ariel cut her off.

“Tomorrow,” Ariel said as the torches flickered. “we’ll go tomorrow. Nicolas Flamel isn’t going anywhere.”

————

Dumbledore had sent Severus a peace offering in the form of an ambush.

This was, of course, a move only utilized when push came to shove. It had been eighteen days, thirteen hours, and two minutes since Severus had last spoken to Dumbledore, the silent message between them at the Quidditch match a momentary lapse in judgement, but not at all a reason to restart the clock. Severus had no intentions of ending this either, the girl and whatever was inside the bloody school the only thing on his mind.

He watched Lily-thing scamper out of Hagrid’s hut, Granger and Weasley-twerp in tow. He was really trying to maintain the illusion that he was going to let her get anywhere near this — he didn’t even know what to fucking call it — whatever pedophiliac stalker was watching the girl, speaking to her on a plane of existence no one else could see.

It was not lost to Severus that he could be labeled the pedophiliac stalker, but the difference was that no one was going to find out that he was following the brat, and that he was trying to keep her from getting herself killed. He didn’t know what he was thinking, having the girl stay in his classroom after nightfall to see if anything… happened.

Weasley-twerp was complaining about something, throwing his hands up in exasperation while the girls exchanged a look behind his back. Lily-thing seemed distracted, her eyes drifting off into the distance as Weasley-twerp rambled. Granger seemed to be deep in thought — Severus knew that look from class. It came right before she called out a question, and Severus docked ten points.

He’d been following Lily-thing when she wandered outside of the castle. The coin he’d given her had a Tracking Charm on it, so if she went anywhere she wasn’t supposed to, or called for Severus, he’d be there in seconds. Lily-thing didn’t know the half of it, for obvious reasons, but Severus wasn’t fucking around with this Stone business anymore. Lily-thing had no idea how much danger she could be in, didn’t know how dark the magic that followed her was. If someone was following her in shadows, whispering her name and demanding things… it was soul-crushing magic, magic you couldn’t come back from. Magic that would tear you apart piece by piece, and it still wouldn’t be enough to satisfy.

Severus knew this magic well.

This was, of course, incredibly inconvenient for him. The Dark Lord had not yet returned, and Severus was watching the girl’s every move on top of keeping his storeroom and the infirmary well-stocked, performing his Head of House duties, and teaching the little dunderheads how not to blow each other up.

The price you pay, for becoming a father, Conscience said, coldly, carelessly, calculatingly.

You didn’t want anything to do with me! You act like Mum never existed, that it doesn’t matter that she’s not here —

He bit back a snarl.

Severus un-Disillusioned himself from behind the bush he’d been crouched behind. This was absolutely fucking ridiculous. If someone saw him, Severus was going to have to answer a lot of hard questions, and the last thing he needed was Dumbledore —

“Ah,” said a voice Severus had not heard for eighteen days, thirteen hours, and — now ten — minutes. “Severus, my boy, I didn’t think I’d find you out here.”

Severus eyed a nearby stick. The end was sharp enough so that if he thrust it into his eyeball, he could probably do enough brain damage. He did not turn to face Dumbledore, keeping his eyes locked on Lily-thing.

“I do recall recommending long walks as a sort of… outlet, if you will.” Dumbledore continued, as if they were discussing the weather. “I didn’t think you’d actually heed any advice from me, but it is a lovely evening.”

He’d been caught — there was no delaying this any longer. Lily-thing was giving Weasley-twerp a cross look, the boy averting his eyes sheepishly. After a moment, they disappeared over the hill, back up to the school. In a few minutes, they’d reappear as they continued the steep climb back.

Severus turned, letting out a deep sigh. There stood the Headmaster, his robes a soft lilac color (Severus noted that he knew that particular color swatch, with a tinge of horror). Dumbledore matched the sunset blooming behind them, pastels of pink and yellow and orange adorning the sky.

“I had planned on visiting Hagrid,” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled at him, like nothing was wrong, like he hadn’t a care in the world. “he’s expressed concern about some beast in the forest as of late, something hunting unicorns.”

A feeling pricked the back of Severus’ neck, like pins and needles scurrying down his spine.

“Well, don’t dally on my account,” Severus said coldly. The clock inside his head went off, making the insides of his ears rattle.

Dumbledore’s eyes met his, the same way they had at the Quidditch match. He gave Severus a long, searching look before clasping his hands together in front of him — here was the olive branch. “Hagrid will certainly understand if I explain that we had a serious matter to discuss.”

Something — not the clock — inside of Severus' brain felt like it had clicked off. He stared and stared at Dumbledore, the urge to laugh welling up inside of him, like there was a punchline he hadn’t yet figured out.

“You want to discuss a serious matter with me?” Severus asked, in a voice that shook around the edges. “Have you dictated that I’m once again worthy to be privy to such dialogue, or is this simply a rouse to lull me back into thinking I am to be trusted?”

Dumbledore finally frowned. “I trust you implicitly, Severus. I have never once doubted your loyalties since Tom set his sights on Lily and her family.”

He barked out a humorless laugh. “You didn’t trust me to deal with those human shitstains that made the girl their own personal house elf —”

“Severus —”

“Or with the fact that the Lily’s daughter wasn’t Potter’s at all — that if the Dark Lord were to find out, that I would immediately compromised with no hope of securing information for the Order since I would be dead, and the girl would be too —”

Severus turned away, a feeling in his chest that crushed his heart like an avalanche. If that foolish, incomprehensible girl had kept this secret all to herself —

“Severus, I realize the circumstances are not ideal,” there was a hand on his shoulder now. “but I can assure you that anything done on my part was not intended to cause you pain. Lily wanted —”

“What Lily wanted and what Lily had control over are two entirely different things.” Severus said through gritted teeth. “She wrote that letter for Miss Evans to find someday, yes, but if you had even an inkling of suspicion, it would have been far better to come from you rather than her. It should not have been Miss Evans’ burden to bear, alone.” As it had been Lily’s.

Dumbledore knew nothing of pain. He did not know what it felt like stare into that memory, to see Lily again, to have a piece of her Severus had made himself forget, that he had left her there, in that room at the inn. If Severus could, he would have gone back in time and never left her side. They could have fled to some distant country and waited for the Dark Lord to blow himself up. Lily would’ve been alive. The girl would be unmarked. Severus would not be a murderer.

It did nothing, to dwell on what could have been. He would tell Dumbledore none of this, anyway, so what did it matter?

“I am truly sorry, my friend.” Dumbledore said, his voice full of earnest and reassurance. “If there is anything I can do —”

“You can start by begging me not to hand in my letter of resignation.” Severus snapped, shoving him off.

They both knew he was bluffing, but it felt good to say out loud, to threaten Dumbledore with something that would cause literally anyone else a mite of distress, were they in his position. Severus didn’t want an apology — he wanted to forget that any of this had ever happened.

“You have threatened me with resignation many times before,” Dumbledore chuckled. “Although, I would admit that the pen is mightier than the sword.”

“I could exercise my parental rights and take the girl far away from here.” Severus said, without a trace of humor.

He thought of Lily, penning a letter to a baby she knew she might never get a chance to watch grow up. He thought of the baby, the girl, reading that letter, and the grim determination she’d carried with her ever since. Severus was still figuring out how to rid himself of Lily-things’ hope that he could ever be anything other than a distant figure, someone she might not have ever known if Potter and Lily were still alive.

“Have you decided how you want to go forward, then?” Dumbledore asked, his eyes looking straight through him.

Severus stared ahead, watching the girl turn into a dot in the distance. He could still make out Lily-things’ hair, the same color of the leaves he crushed underfoot.

“I don’t intend on breaking my promise,” said Severus.

“Your promise was to protect Lily’s daughter.” Dumbledore turned, following his gaze. It softened before turning back to him. “I would imagine that vow would mean more now more than ever.”

It did… and didn’t. Lily-thing was the last of her mother, that had not changed. What had changed was that Lily-thing was also a part of Severus. He had never planned on having children — the thought was nauseating — or to marry. He hated people, and people hated him. He wasn’t fit to be anything other than repulsive to others. The only person he’d ever considered to be any kind of partner had been Lily, and even then, he had spent years trying to rid himself of his emotions, his feelings, to cease caring about her and thinking of her. Severus couldn’t fathom that the two of them had created that girl, that she existed so effortlessly, that she carried her mother’s heart so close to her own.

“It’s… by my own actions that she’s here,” Severus said. “And it is by my own actions that she finds herself in danger.”

Dumbledore finally looked something akin to troubled. “I wanted to discuss the Quidditch match with you, my friend. I am worried that someone would try something so bold, in front of not only the staff, but the students as well.”

“That’s not all you need to be worried about.” Severus said, a feeling in his veins like ice. “The girl is being followed by… something.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at him. “Something… other than you?”

Severus bit back a retort that would only lead to him brooding later on. “The girl says something is following her. Something only she can see.”

Dumbledore’s face hardened, his blue eyes clear and concentrated, like he was putting together a puzzle with no pieces. He motioned with his head, pivoting away from Lily-thing and her cronies. “Walk with me, Severus. Tell me more.”

He did, trying to keep any kind of emotion out of his voice when he did so. Emotions would convey something other than what Dumbledore already knew, and what Dumbledore knew was that Severus would protect Lily-thing at all costs. He was trying to reach inside of Severus and find a bright, shiny trophy, something that would affirm that Severus was capable of being something more than a double-agent. Lily had tried to do the same, and it had only brought the two of them misery.

“This does concern me, my boy.” Dumbledore said once Severus had finished. They’d waded into the entrance of the Forest, not entering, but lingering on the outskirts. An owl hooted somewhere nearby, a curious sound that invited them to come closer.

“As it should,” Severus said, tension building in his jaw. “since it’s only a matter of time until it’s patience wears out.”

“It cannot touch her,” Dumbledore shook his head, but his face was still set in deep thought. “Lily’s sacrifice ensured that. Tom himself wouldn’t be able to lay a hand on the child.”

“Light believes it travels the fastest, but what it forgets is that the darkness is always there to greet it.” Severus said coolly. “Lily’s sacrifice is certainly protection enough, but you forget that the Dark Lord will not stop until he has the girl.”

“It cannot harm her.” Dumbledore said firmly. “Of this I am certain. I do, however, find it troublesome that only Ariel can see and hear it. Perhaps more alarming is that it believes Ariel to have something it wants.”

“What could it possibly want from the girl, other than the Stone?” Severus asked, turning his attention back to the girl. He could no longer see her, a feeling that felt like panic gripping at him. He shoved it away, wanting to Hex it into nothingness, into oblivion. “And even then, Albus, she’s barely a first year. It cannot truly believe that the girl knows how to get past the trapdoor.”

Dumbledore was silent, his gaze impenetrable, but Severus could tell his mind was somewhere else. “Tom needs very little reason to believe that those he distrusts have ulterior motives. You know this better than anyone, I’m afraid.”

Severus stared at Dumbledore, stared and stared and stared until his eyes began to burn, his heart beating to an entirely new rhythm of panic. The ground beneath felt unsteady, uneven.

“The Dark Lord,” Severus felt the words sticking to his throat like spiderwebs. “could not have infiltrated the school. You said it yourself, it’s impossible.”

“As long as I am here, yes.” Dumbledore nodded, his blue eyes piercing. “That does not, however, eliminate the possibility that someone is working on his behalf, and is practicing the Dark Arts inside of Hogwarts.”

A thought was blossoming inside of Severus’ mind, something so vast and moving swiftly, covering everything until it was upon him. “You — you knew this all along.”

Dumbledore bowed his head. “Nicolas expressed concern, and warned me that this was a possibility. He’d been… receiving signs through dreams. Tom has been attacking his mind, since Nicolas cannot die physically. Tom wanted the Stone to not only retain his physical body, but to obtain immortality.”

hey it’s me you want yeah

come and get me

I have to tell you something

something’s happening and I don’t know how to make it stop

make it stop

A frantic, desperate tidal wave was building up inside of Severus, the world shimmering around the edges. “And you still allowed for the Stone to be kept here?”

“Hogwarts is the safest place to keep it from Tom.” he sounded so calm, so serene, and it made Severus angrier. He could see the girl in his mind’s eye, watching her small face twist as she told him about the force that called to her, how her tiny frame trembled, but her voice stayed strong, unwavering.

“Not if the Dark Lord is INSIDE OF THE SCHOOL!” Severus finally shouted, everything he’d been trying (and succeeding) at keeping at bay breaking loose, like a tidal wave. “You allowed the girl to come here knowing that the Dark Lord wanted not only the Stone, but that he could murder the girl and claw his way back to a corporeal form all in one fell swoop!”

“He is not here, Severus.” Dumbledore said, and Severus could have sworn their shadows became longer, the sky darker. “He will not step foot in this school so long as I am Headmaster.”

Dumbledore’s magic fizzled in the air around him, though Severus could tell it wasn’t directed at him. He wanted the girl safe as much as Severus did, wanted to keep her out of the Dark Lord’s clutches and had done everything to ensure it. This was what they had been planning, what they’d spent countless nights combing through, ensuring that Lily-thing would be safe.

And even that had failed, ten years ago.

A breeze blew through the airs, their leaves shaking like Severus’ hands. Off in the distance, something howled, a long, wounded sound as the sun finally disappeared behind the horizon.

“I would ask that you would continue to keep an eye on Quirinus.” Dumbledore said quietly after a long period of silence. “He is the only member of the staff of whom I am not entirely certain can be trusted.”

Severus spat at the ground. “Quirrell is spineless —”

“Please, Severus.” Dumbledore interrupted, holding up a withered hand. “If not for my peace of mind, then for Ariel’s. She cannot be exposed to such forces.”

“She has already been exposed!” Severus heard his voice rising again, but he didn’t care. “She has been stalked by this… this thing — if it is the Dark Lord, surely she must leave the school!”

“The safest place for Ariel is here.” Dumbledore said sternly.

“But you just said —”

“It could very well be Tom’s astral projection into the school with someone’s assistance,” Dumbledore’s voice softened. “but as I said before, neither of them could hurt Ariel. I give you my word on that, Severus.”

Severus leaned against the nearest tree. He was distantly aware that he was breathing heavily, panting as he struggled to shove his anger, his fear, his panic, and all-consuming desperation back beneath the Shields of his Occlumency.

“It is touching —” Dumbledore began.

“Don’t,” Severus threw behind him. “Do not.”

He steadied his breathing, racking his brain for a counter argument that would disarm Dumbeldore, but he could not find one. If Lily-thing left Hogwarts, she would be terribly exposed, even with all of the Wards in the world surrounding her. The Stone needed to be taken from the school, but the idea of the Dark Lord getting his hands on it was equally as terrifying. The girl would be in even more danger, but she was already in danger —

There was no alternative. Dumbledore, as dense and mental and infuriatingly benign as he was in his beliefs, was right. The Dark Lord had to be discouraged, had to be stopped, but he should not be able to touch the girl. He could not. He would not. Severus would make sure of it.

Severus did not know which thought scared him more — the Dark Lord, or what could happen to that reckless child.

“The girl mentioned a poem,” Severus said, his heart heavy. “that was you, wasn’t it?”

He turned when he heard no answer. Dumbledore was gone, the only sound the wind whispering through the trees.

————

Ariel hurried down to her detention with one shoe untied and her rucksack unbuckled.

She wasn’t about to be late for her fake-detention when she was only six days into it. In her defense, Ariel had gotten carried away with hearing about how some of the Gryffindors had taken creative liberties with the note she’d left on Malfoy’s back. He’d been giving her horrid looks all of dinner, his cutlery screeching against the plates as they ate. Ron, who seemed to be in much better spirits after eating, laughed so hard that he fell over a few times. Ariel couldn’t help but let herself forget about the Giant Smoke Monster, the Stone and Snape when Seamus reenacted Professor McGonagall showing Malfoy the note on his back after he’d tried to Hex Oliver Wood.

Snape was already waiting for her when she entered, lightly knocking on the door as she pushed into the classroom, clutching at the stitch in her side. He frowned as she walked in, trying to hide the fact that she was out of breath.

“Anything?” Snape demanded in a sharp voice.

It took Ariel a minute to figure out what he meant.

“Before… just outside the school.” she swallowed roughly. “It didn’t stick around or say anything to me, but… I saw it.”

Fury cracked across his face. “And you didn’t tell me?”

Her stomach dropped to her feet. The coin —

Embarrassment washed over her in thick waves, followed quickly by horror. She wasn’t even a week in, and she’d already broken her promise.

“It didn’t talk to me or anything!” Ariel said desperately. “I only saw it for a second!”

Snape began to do a remarkable impression of a fire-breathing dragon.

“I’m sorry!” Ariel said again, meaning every inch of it. “It was so fast and Ron and Hermione were with me… I didn’t want to stick around and for something to happen! We were going to dinner anyway, and then I was going straight to you. It never stays!”

“Until it did, and it started speaking to you!” Snape snarled, his face white with anger.

Tell me tell me what it said

Tell me

TELL ME

Ariel looked away, biting her lip. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Her hands and feet were suddenly cold, a feeling in her heart like a riptide. She snuck a glance up at Snape, who slowly moved away, his lip curled. His eyes were bright, a fire blazing behind them.

“Foolish girl,” Snape muttered, still extremely cross, but the edge was gone. “sit down and busy yourself with whatever you fancy. You will tell me next time you see or hear anything, or so help me, I will have you in detention every waking moment you are not in class for the next seven years.”

“I just didn’t want them to get hurt.”

It took Ariel a minute to realize the voice that spoke was hers. Snape stared down at her, past his hooked nose and curtain of hair.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded.

“Ron and Hermione,” Ariel said, swallowing the rock in her throat. “I didn’t want to tell them when I saw it in case whatever that thing is got mad and came back. I don’t want them to know about it, because the more I pay attention to it, the more I see it. What if it starts bothering them?”

Snape gave her an inscrutable look. “It might have escaped your notice, but Miss Granger and Mr Weasley did not lead to the downfall of a deranged madman.”

“The Bludger could’ve hurt Hermione.”

Snape’s eyes glittered dangerously. “All the more reason for you to think about your actions going forward.”

Ariel sighed, dejected and relieved. She’d half expected him to throw her out right then and there. “I will. I promise.”

Snape made a noise that sounded half-growl, half words stuck at the back of his throat. He waved flippantly at the workbench closest to the front of the room, right near the storerooms where he usually spent their detentions. Ariel dragged her feet over, throwing her rucksack on the tabletop as Snape disappeared to count ingredients or take inventory, or whatever it was he did. Ariel wanted to ask, but she felt too silly to bother Snape now.

When she found out who or what this Giant Smoke Monster was, she was going to give them a piece of her mind.

She reluctantly took out her Charms textbook and a roll of parchment, not at all in the mood to do any sort of schoolwork. Ariel couldn’t figure out how Hermione did it without complaining. She liked school too, but Hermione took it to a whole other level. She wished more than anything that she could just curl up on one of the couches in Gryffindor Tower right now and practice Fire-Making charms next to the fireplace. Neville had made the mistake of practicing in the dormitory the other night, and had nearly burnt the Tower down.

Something moved out of the corner of Ariel’s eyes, tearing her away from her thoughts. It was Snape, standing in the doorway of the storeroom with an assortment of jars in his arms, his eyes watching her closely. She wondered how long he’d been standing there.

“Is it bothering you?” Snape demanded, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

Ariel hadn’t realized it, but she’d been touching her scar. “No, it’s just… a habit. I touch it when I’m thinking.”

His reaction took her off guard. He stalked over to the front of the room, slammed down the jars, and took the lid off of the cauldron, the ginormous one at the very front of the classroom. Snape fumed into the cauldron for a moment, like something was at the bottom he wanted to kill before he noticed that Ariel was staring at him.

“Well?” Snape bit out. “Don’t you have an essay to write?”

Ariel wanted to ask him how he knew that, but when she looked down at the workbench, it was quite obvious what she was trying to do. Professor Flitwick wanted six inches on the theory of pyrokinetics in Charms by tomorrow afternoon. Luckily, that was the class that Ariel had decided to try and take detailed notes, but she wasn’t sure if she’d done a good job. She’d gotten distracted halfway through class when some of the smoke had wafted across the room, and for a heart-stopping moment she’d thought it was the Giant Smoke Monster. Needless to say, Ariel hadn’t been able to focus much after that.

Ariel studied Snape instead of working on her Charms essay. Once he started brewing, he seemed to calm down, the stiffness in his shoulders melting away. The lines in his face had faded away, his mouth set in a tight line as he concentrated. Ariel had never seen him look this way, it looked sorta… peaceful.

She stared at the notes she’d taken, unable to figure out if she’d written an f or a lazy l. Either way, she couldn’t decipher what the bloody hell she’d written.

“What’re you brewing?” Ariel asked finally, her brain moments away from turning into mush.

“A potion.” Snape said, sounding bored. Or maybe he was trying to concentrate. Or he was still mad.

She straightened up, trying to make herself sound interested instead of desperate. “What kind of potion?”

“Dreamless Sleep.” he turned, dropping some sort ofherb into the cauldron Ariel didn’t recognize. It glowed like sunlight, but it was a deep, royal purple.

Ariel perked up — she’d half expected Snape to ignore her, and they hadn’t learned anything like that yet. “Are we learning that next week?”

“You’ll learn before the end of this year,” Snape’s eyes were cold and hard, like diamonds. “that is, if you pay any attention.”

Ariel gaped at him for a moment before scowling. “I always pay attention!”

Snape gave a ripping snort. “You’re too busy making Longbottom doesn’t accidentally chop off an appendage.”

“I am not! You never give me back my papers.” Ariel challenged. “What are my marks like in your class?”

“They’re not abysmal.”

“My potions always end up looking like yours!” Ariel shot back, affronted.

“Incorrect,” Snape put a Stasis charm on the potion, glaring at her. “Longbottom usually ends up butchering the preparation of the ingredients, so your final product loses some of its… potency.”

Ariel stared at him, suddenly furious. “Then why haven’t you said anything to me?”

She genuinely liked Potions — it was the only class where they made something every day, where she was able to turn her brain off and work on something that could be useful. Not to mention that she was doing her damndest to try and impress him. To hear that her marks had been less than stellar was incredibly disappointing… unless he was just being a giant git. That wouldn’t have been surprising.

“I say all I need to in my instruction.” Snape said coolly.

“Yeah, but how am I supposed to get any better if you don’t tell me?”

“It is not a fault that lies with you, Miss Evans, but with Mr Longbottom.”

“You could try being nicer to him.”

“Being nice won’t teach that boy anything,” Snape sneered. “He’s got to keep a level head if he’s going to brew anything without accidentally poisoning himself, or someone else.”

“He’s only a nervous wreck because he’s terrified of you!” Ariel shot back.

“There would be nothing to fear if he didn’t let his emotions get the better of him.”

Ariel fumed into her parchment. Snape was such a git — she didn’t know why it bothered her so much. He wasn’t even nice when he was trying to be… well, nice. Snape didn’t have to have these fake detentions with her, but he was certainly making it known that he wasn’t thrilled about it. Poor Neville couldn’t help being terrified of Snape when Snape went out of his way to terrorize him.

As you wish

When she looked up, Snape was back at concentrating on the Dreamless Sleep. His eyebrows were furrowed now, not in concentration anymore, but like he was thinking about something deeply regretful.

Her anger fizzled away. She thought of the woman in the mirror, in her dreams, because now, she had the same feeling she did when she woke up. It was a feeling that ran through her fingers like sand, so close to touching, but small and undefined, unable to be given a name.

“Can I… have some, do you think?” Ariel blurted out. “Of the Dreamless Sleep?”

Snape’s eyes shot to hers, narrowed in suspicion. “Why?”

Ariel bit her lip, wondering if she should tell him or not. She did trust him, despite Ron’s claims. He was her father, and even if he didn’t like it, he’d felt some obligation to protect her because of Mum. He’d saved her from the Giant Smoke Monster, the Bludger, and the Dursleys… surely Ariel could tell him about some weird dreams, right?

She sucked in a deep breath. “I’ve been having weird dreams that wake me up. I can’t go back to sleep after.”

Snape didn’t look at her, but his head tilted. “You can have some once you learn how to brew it.”

Ariel blinked at him. “But you said we won’t learn it until the end of the year!”

“Then I guess you’ll have to wait.”

She wanted to throw her quill at him. She’d thrown things at Dudley when he’d made her angry, knowing it would incur Aunt Petunia’s wrath. Something told her that if she threw something at Snape, she’d have bigger things to worry about than the Giant Smoke Monster.

Instead, Ariel picked up her quill and began scratching away at the parchment. She didn’t write anything in particular, but made sure the sound was loud enough that it was audible. She swung her feet back and forth so that her boots skimmed the stone floor, making a scratchscratchscratch sound as they brushed the floor.

Ariel knew when Snape’s eyes were on her, because she could feel the temperature in the room drop.

That’s when she began to hum — she didn’t know many songs, but Lavender and Parvarti played this one song by the Weird Sisters over and over again, only Ariel couldn’t remember the chorus, which meant she was making half of it up. If Snape caught on to that, he didn’t make it known, but after about thirty seconds of the writing and the scratching and the humming, he snapped.

“For the love of —” Snape gave an exasperated sigh. “If you insist on imposing yourself upon me, then you might as well make yourself useful.”

She bit back a smile. “How?”

Snape glowered at her. “I’m assuming your risible study habits stem from the desire to watch me brew.”

“Just a little.”

“Then you’ll assist me.” Snape beckoned her forward with his index finger. Ariel tried to contain the bubble of excitement that grew inside her chest, quickly making her way to his side, beside the cauldron. She quickly realized that there was going to be a problem, as she was half a head shorter than the cauldron.

Snape wordlessly Summoned a stool, jerking his head at Ariel to step up. Her face went as red as her hair. She was the shortest girl in her year, which made her the shortest girl in school, and she hated it. Pansy looked like she wanted to step on her, sometimes, and as much as Ariel couldn’t stand the thought, if it came down to it, Pansy would win in a fist-fight, no question.

(She thought about punching Pansy in the face, a lot)

“Thanks,” Ariel mumbled.

Snape didn’t say anything. Instead, her handed her a vial of something red that looked a whole lot like —

Ariel stood on her tip-toes and gazed down into the cauldron. It was a murky grey, steam rising up the bubbles as it hissed back at her. “Why do you need blood?”

“It’s dragon’s blood,” Snape said, leaning over the cauldron.

She perked up. “Ron’s brother Charlie works with dragons!”

“Fascinating.” Snape said, as if it were anything but.

“Did you have him? As a student, I mean.”

“I’ve had the displeasure of teaching all of the Weasleys.”

Ariel frowned. “You don’t like them?”

“Why someone would want that many children is beyond me,” said Snape, his eyes focused on the cauldron. “Especially after those horrid twins.”

“I think they’re wonderful.” Ariel said, very matter-of-factly.

“I never said anything about how wonderful they are, Miss Evans, only that they’ve had an annoying amount of children.”

Ariel wanted to point out that he was in charge of hundreds of children, seeing as Snape was Slytherin’s Head of House, but decided against it. He’d probably ground her into potion’s ingredients, or worse, just drop her in the cauldron right then and there.

“The dragon’s blood is quite unstable,” Snape said. “It will need to go in last.”

“What happens if it goes in too early?” Ariel asked, her curiosity piqued.

“It will have the opposite effect — instead of a restful sleep, the person ingesting it will find themselves unable to do so.”

Well that sounded… unpleasant. “Oh… for how long?”

“If you were to add in the dragon’s blood now, it would be about a week, but by that point, the ingestor would have descended into madness.”

Ariel grimaced. “So how do you know when to put it in?”

Snape quirked an eyebrow at her. “I’ve just added the lavender extract — you tell me.”

It took Ariel a minute to register that he was being Professor Snape. She stifled the urge to roll her eyes. “Well, you said in class that lavender disintegrates quickly… so you’d need to put that in as the base, right?”

He gave a short nod. “And what properties does lavender possess?”

Ariel pondered this for a moment. “It’s supposed to reduce stress and anxiety, isn’t it? It makes you calm.”

“Dragon’s blood is quite potent in it’s own properties.” Snape said, without telling Ariel if she’d been right or wrong. She assumed she was, because he wasn’t calling her a dunderhead. “It allows for the base ingredients’ abilities to be heightened, leading to a dreamless sleep rather than just making the ingestor drowsy.”

“Cool,” she muttered, mostly to herself. When she peered back up at Snape, he had a peculiar expression on his face. “So, once the lavender disintegrates, I can add in the dragon’s blood?”

Snape gave another quick nod, but Ariel could sense that something was… off. He was staring at her strangely, like she’d sprouted a second head and he was trying to remain calm. Ariel wondered what she’d said, but she didn’t really care. All that mattered was that he was allowing her to brew a Potion with him, a Potion that they hadn’t learned yet, and that would help her sleep tonight.

“Was Mum good at Potions?” Ariel asked quietly.

Snape made a strange sound, like all the air was being sucked out of him with a vacuum. “She had a knack for them — Charms were her area of expertise.”

“Professor Flitwick said she wanted to be a Healer.”

He didn’t say anything to that. Instead, he glanced back down at the cauldron. “You may add the dragon’s blood now. Pour it in slowly so that the potion has time to absorb it.”

Ariel nodded jerkily and did as she was told. When she looked up, waiting for Snape to say something in approval, she found him turned away from her, his back hunched like he was trying to disappear into himself. It looked like an incredibly private moment, one Ariel didn’t dare try to break him from.

He didn’t move as Ariel hopped off the stool and set the empty vial down beside him. She was about to ask if he was okay when his eyes darted to hers, bright and glittering, but cold. Ariel could feel their iciness against the goosebumps on her skin.

She wordlessly went back to her workbench and pretended to work on her essay, trying to figure out what she’d done, but some small voice in the back of her head told her it wasn’t her. It did not tug at some great sadness inside of her, the same sadness that had lulled her to sleep after Halloween.

It would never be about her, because to Snape, it would always be about Mum.

Snape’s hand was suddenly in front of her face. Ariel peered up at him warily, but his face was blank.

“Come,” he said. “It's nearly curfew.”

Snape moved past her, but as Ariel went to pack up her things, she saw what he’d left behind. It was a vial of Dreamless Sleep, along with instructions. Ariel ripped the bottom part of the parchment and quickly scribbled thank you at the bottom, placing it where the vial had been. Something told Ariel that Snape wouldn’t acknowledge her saying it to him, but that he would read her words and understand.

Just like Mum’s letter.

To be continued...
End Notes:

””””

A/N: I know literally nothing about potions/chemistry, so if you think I made up everything about the potion, you are correct! I tried to do some research into what canonically would make sense, but alas, the fictional world of Harry Potter wiki has failed me.

Thank you for the outpouring of reviews last chapter, they mean the world. If you could leave a review on this one, I would greatly appreciate it :,)

Until next time! xx

Chapter 14: man in the mirror by shostakobitch

Ariel had always loved the idea of Christmas from afar, but to finally have the opportunity to be a part of it warmed her all the way down to her toes.

Hogwarts had immediately struck Ariel as beautiful the very first time she saw it, but the day that Hagrid began to drag those giant evergreen trees into the Great Hall momentarily distracted her from the whole Stone business and the Giant Smoke Monster. She wasn’t going back to Privet Drive, leaving her with the hope that this could quite possibly be the very first and very best Christmas she’d ever had.

The trio had tried throwing themselves into research as the days grew longer and colder after Hagrid had let it slip about a man named Nicolas Flamel. They hadn’t been able to find anything further on the Stone itself, but there had been little time for the three of them to do any sort of investigating, even with them spending all their free time in the library. Their professors had been piling work on them left and right, so much so that Ariel was beginning to feel grateful that Snape made her do homework during their fake-detentions. Ariel couldn’t focus in Gryffindor Tower, even if it was just her and Hermione in the dorm.

As the smell of pine and holly wafted through the halls of the castle, Ariel and the twins had set to booby trapping Christmas decorations in retaliation for Malfoy’s no show the night they’d run into the three headed dog, and for being a terrible prat. They had begun to lose count of just how many times they’d caught Malfoy off guard, delighting in the shows that had left their stomachs sore with raucous laughter. Among Ariel’s personal favorites were the exploding mistletoe that had given Malfoy large, itchy boils on his forehead, enchanted snowballs that continually flung themselves at the back of his neck, and Charming the gel he used to slick back his hair to smell like actual reindeer.

Hermione was going home for the holidays, and Ariel had tried her very best to conceal how disappointed she was about this. Ron was staying behind since his parents were going to visit Charlie in Egypt with Ginny, which brought her some comfort, because it meant that Fred and George would be sticking around too.

“Promise me you’ll write,” Ariel very nearly demanded as she hugged Hermione close. “I’m sure Hedwig will appreciate all the time to spread her wings.”

“I will, I’ll let you know the second I find anything about Flamel.” Hermione grinned, half her face covered by her winter hat. It flattened the top half of her head, making the ends stick out like she’d been electrocuted. Malfoy sniggered as he passed by.

Ariel threw him a horrible look. “I’m pretty sure no one will miss him.”

“Careful, Red Cap,” Malfoy snapped. “At least my family wants me.”

Ariel threw a Stinging Hex at him. Ron beamed with pride, while Hermione hurried them away, just as the Slytherin Prefect began walking over to investigate.

“You two have to promise not to get into trouble,” she said in her Bossiest Voice. “If I come back and you’ve lost all our House points, I’ll be very cross.”

“Pinky promise,” Ariel smirked, crossing her fingers behind her back so that Ron could see, but linked her pinky with Hermione’s.

“Honestly,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “It’s a good thing the Slytherins are all leaving. You two wouldn’t last five minutes with all this free time.”

“We’ll be looking for more on the Stone too, you know.” Ron said, crossing his arms. “We’ve got way more of a chance than you do, unless maybe your parents know something?”

“Highly unlikely,” Hermione snorted. “they’re dentists.”

Once classes had finished for term, Ariel settled into a new pattern of lounging about with Ron, waiting for the holidays to officially arrive. Lavender and Parvarti had given Ariel a catalog to go through, where you could send in a money order and the gifts would be delivered to you. Luckily, Ariel had taken a pouch of galleons from Gringotts when she’d gone with Hagrid, and so she’d done her Christmas shopping all in one go. Hedwig, however, did not seem too pleased with the journey, and had sulked for a full two days before allowing Ariel to get anywhere near her. She wondered if the journey all the way to Hermione’s would get the same reaction, but Hedwig liked Hermione a great deal, so maybe it wouldn’t be as much of a bother.

For Ron, Ariel had gotten him his own chess set, and for Hermione, enchanted friendship bracelets. They were supposed to change colors based on how the other was feeling, which Ariel quite liked the idea of. She found it hard sometimes to tell Hermione how she was feeling, like she couldn’t make the words come out. Even alone, practicing in front of a bathroom mirror, Ariel couldn’t force herself to say certain things out loud to Hermione, and she didn’t know why.

Ariel and Ron had the dormitory to themselves as Christmas crept up on them, and Ron had been teaching her how to play wizard’s chess. She wasn’t bad at it, but she got annoyed very easily when the players began to shout their two-sense at her. Ron had sheepishly tried to explain that they’d calm down once she got the hang of it, but Ariel couldn’t imagine playing a game with chess pieces she wanted to step on.

On Christmas Eve, Ariel settled into her bed, glancing over at her nightstand. Beside it was a vial of Dreamless Sleep Snape had given her two days prior. She bit her lip, wondering if she should try and sleep without it tonight.

She stared at it before turning off the lights with her wand. The next day was Christmas — sleepless nights were bound to be rampant tonight, anyway.

———

A sound like rainwater filled up the space, the sound crushing everything in its path.

It could not be called a scream, or a howl, or even humanlike at all, because for one to make such sounds, one would have to possess something corporeal, and this was not the case. To have nothing left was one thing, but to have what was yours, what was rightfully taken from those far below was another. It would have it all back, and then some.

It would have that child.

And it burned that she was so close, just behind a door that could not see, a door with eyes that could not see him as he was, as he was no longer, and knew what it really was, what he should have been. However long It tried, it counted every single second, because every second It tried, it would make that girl suffer for it.

Until He appeared.

It did not hear him, It did not even turn to see. He was suddenly there, beside the door, his blue eyes glowing in the dark. They did not see it, but stared straight through it, through it’s Nothingness and Malice, through to the other side, where He wanted it to go.

The sound lit up the space, and He stared calmly back at it, as if He could not really see It, as no one else could. It was so different from the girl that It felt something akin to fear, because He looked at him with indifference.

“Go, Tom,” He said.

The sound shattered the air, and It was gone, but not without one final thought.

It would have that girl

and that letter

if it was the last thing

It did.

———

Ariel awoke with a jolt.

Her scar was burning, like she’d been brandished with Lavender’s curling iron. She rubbed at it as the pain subsided, her breathing heavy.

That voice… in her dream… she’d heard it before, but it was only that — a dream. It couldn’t harm her, because it wasn’t real. Ariel sighed, rolling over to look at her clock — it was almost seven in the morning. She glanced out the window, the skies grey, frost coating the window.

Lavender had offered to help Ariel string up the fairy lights again after Ariel had apologized to her, and they’d ended up decorating the entire dorm with them. Their soft light covered her as she scrubbed the sleep from her eyes, when something caught her eye.

There were presents at the end of her bed.

Ariel catapulted out of her sheets, the dream long forgotten, and scrambled over to the pile. There was more than one parcel, she realized, something bright blossoming in her chest. She eagerly bent over and began opening them, the first one from Hagrid. It was a wooden flute, and when she blew into it, it sounded like some sort of bird. She wondered if it was meant for Hedwig, but quickly set it aside and reached for the next one.

Hermione had sent her a giant box of chocolate frogs, along with a set of headbands and barrettes. Ariel flew into the bathroom to try them out, the headband smoothing her hair back so that it didn’t look so… crooked anymore. She grinned, wishing Hermione was here so that she could hug her and tell her how much she loved them. It felt silly to care about her hair so much, but Ariel couldn’t help but envy Lavender and Parvarti, who could choose to wear their hair up or down or pulled back or all-natural. She would’ve killed to have that to complain about.

The next gift was from Mrs Weasley, who’d sent Ariel a hand-knitted jumper in emerald green. It was twice the size of her, but it was soft, just like the mittens Mrs Weasley had sent her. There was a giant A in the center, along with some homemade fudge. She’s also left a note that told Ariel to write soon, and that they’d love to have her return for the summer again. That would’ve been the best present of all, until she saw one last package without a card or note attached to it.

It was a cloak, from the looks of it, a silvery gray that almost seemed to twinkle beneath the fairy lights. It reminded Ariel of the doe she’d seen, almost, the day Snape had taken her into the floating room. For a moment, she wondered if this cloak could be from him, as she wrapped it around herself, but quickly brushed it off. Snape probably hated Christmas, like he hated everything.

Ariel wondered if anyone had bothered to get him a present.

And then she looked down, and found that the entire lower half of her body was missing.

Ariel let out a yell, immediately reaching down to make sure she hadn’t magicked away her legs. Luckily they were still there, but when she turned around to look in Lavender’s mirror, all she could see was her floating head. The cloak had made her invisible.

“What the —” Ariel said aloud, letting the Cloak drop to her feet, her body reappearing. “Cool.”

That was when she saw the note floating to the ground. Ariel picked it up, squinting at the tight, neat handwriting. It looked so familiar…

James left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A Very Merry Christmas to you, my dear girl.

This was… her dad’s? James? Or rather — well, Ariel guessed her was really her step-father, if she were going to put things in proper terms. More important, who the heck had sent this to her? She didn’t know anyone who was a witch or wizard outside of Hogwarts, and it seemed unlikely to have come from a student…

She wished Hermione were here to see. She probably would’ve said something like “you could get into a lot of trouble with this,” and then thought of something brilliant, like sneaking into the Slytherin dorms to prank Malfoy. No… that was more Ron’s style. He would definitely appreciate it.

Ariel grinned, rushing down the stairs and into the Common Room, where Ron was already waiting.

“Merry Christmas!” he said, turning pink when he saw Ariel’s new jumper. “I see Mum sent you a Weasley sweater, I told her you weren’t expecting presents and I guess she got carried away. We get one every year.”

“I love it,” Ariel said, grinning. “Look what else I got.”

She put on the Cloak, lifting the hood so that she disappeared completely. Ron gaped at her.

“Where in Merlin’s name did you get that?” he bleated. “Those are super rare, and really valuable!”

“I have no idea,” Ariel dropped the hood. “There was a note, but it didn’t say who it was from, only that it belonged to my dad.”

Ron’s mouth stretched into a smile. “Well, someone’s looking out for you then, mate. You can hide from death itself, with that Cloak.”

Ariel snorted. “I’ve definitely got an idea or two.”

She’d spent the day eating food that was so rich that she’d surely never eat again, and engaged in a snowball battle royale that had taken up the entire afternoon. Fred and George had enchanted the snowballs to make themselves and fire back at Ariel and Ron relentlessly, until Hagrid showed up and built them a snow-wall that quickly thwarted the twins’ efforts. She could’ve sworn she saw Snape watching from the entrance, but unfortunately, that was the exact moment George had clocked in the face with a snowball. When Ariel had wiped it from her eyes, he was gone.

Later that evening, Ariel and Ron were cozied up in Gryffindor Tower. Ron had convinced Ariel to play a game of chess with him while Ariel tried to defrost her toes beside the fire. Her ears still burned from the cold, but she didn’t care. Ariel hadn’t been this happy since she’d first come to Hogwats.

“My wee bonnie lass,” George called from across the room. “come hither!”

Ariel turned to find the twins looking vaguely suspicious, crowded together by one of the windows with something tucked behind their back.

“Our mischief making efforts have proven to be a great aide to you.” Fred said, bowing deeply as she made her way over.

“It’s Christmas,” Ariel said, sliding across the floor in her socks. “don’t you two ever take a day off?”

Fred beckoned her over with a crooked finger. “My young apprentice, you have much to learn.”

“Do you promise?” Ariel smirked.

“Cross my heart,” said Fred.

“And hope to die.” finished George.

“Never,” Ariel punched George lightly in the arm. “What did you want to show me?”

“We ‘found’ this in Filch’s office,” said George with a wink. “it had your name on it.”

“We’ve gone through great peril to rescue this artifact.”

Curious, Ariel cocked her head up at them. “What do you mean? He didn’t take anything from me. At least, I don’t think he did.”

“Well, it had your name on it,” George shrugged. “Either way, someone wanted you to have it. We were just the middle-men.”

He handed her an old book, bound together with leather and withered with age. She didn’t recognize it, but she racked her brain, trying to remember if this was one of the poetry books she’d taken out, or the one Snape had confiscated — it couldn’t have been, because that book had been returned to the library. Hermione and her had gone looking for it a few weeks ago.

Ariel blinked up at them. “I never took out this book.”

“All the more reason to take it,” said Fred, slinging his arm around her shoulder. “Filch’s office is the eighth wonder of the world, you know. Snagging anything out of there is no small feat.”

Ariel’s heart skipped a beat. “Well, thank you. You really shouldn’t have. I mean, you think I have it bad with Snape for weeks and weeks, but you two would’ve been scrubbing bedpans or giving Mrs Norris a bath or something.”

Fred shuddered. “She’s got a point there, George-o.”

“Ah, well,” George slung an arm around Fred’s shoulder. “What Filch doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

Ariel agreed, thanking them for their service, and plopped the book open in front of the fire. Ron had started arguing with his king, who was vehemently opposing the idea of letting Ariel play with him again after last round. She rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the mystery book. It was more poetry, but nothing about the wanderer from what Ariel could tell. It was all in French, the pages yellowed with age and water damage, it looked like. Ariel slammed the book closed, glaring down at it, as if it would sense her frustration and start spilling out all its secrets. She filed “talking books,” into her Great Magical Ideas folder, right next to “Voldemort vaporizer.”

Then she turned the page, familiar handwriting scrawled across the pages — two very familiar —

This is nauseating, wrote the first set of handwriting, letters she saw scrawled across a chalkboard every week.

It’s a bit overdone, wrote the second, not at all uneven and slanted, but neat and precise. I think you’re being too harsh.

Isn’t the whole point of being a critic to be harsh?

Not if you’re going to be a prat, you arse

I am more objective than you are

Or this one just hits a little too close to home

There were pages and pages of this — their words and conversations coating the pages. Ariel fell back onto the sofa, unable to tear her eyes away from this tangible proof that Snape and Mum had been friends, had known each other and teased each other. Snape having any sort of friend was such an odd thought, and yet, here it was, right in front of Ariel’s eyes.

Ariel wondered how they’d done it without Madam Pince getting them expelled. How had she missed this one? And more importantly, who had put her name on it and left it in Filch’s office? It couldn’t have been Snape, then who?

And what the heck was she supposed to do with it?

Ariel considered this for a moment or two, staring into the fire. A thought blossomed, just below her ribs. She clutched the book tightly to her chest and ran upstairs, digging under her four-poster for the last of the wrapping and tissue paper she’d used for Hermione and Ron’s gifts. Ariel managed to wrap the book in a few layers of tissue paper, sticking it together with tape she’d found in Lavender’s trunk, and ran back down the stairs.

Luckily, Ariel was right on time for her detention. She never knew what version of Snape she was going to get, but she’d steadily realized that even if Snape didn’t like her much, he did at least think she was a half-decent brewer. He made (asked in a Snapely way) Ariel assist him with potions if she wasn’t saddled with homework, and Ariel wasn’t about to turn down any opportunities to work with him, to ask him questions about stuff, even if it was just to have conversations. Ariel still couldn’t read him though— if Snape was a book, he would’ve been an ancient tomb where the words were written in invisible ink.

She rushed down to the dungeons, which seemed brighter than usual. That was the thing about Christmas — it was bound to make even the creepiest of places better. Or maybe it was just the fact that Malfoy and Pansy were gone. Ariel would’ve given up a lifetime of Christmas presents if it meant they stayed away.

Once Ariel was outside of Snape’s classroom, she rapped at the door. Usually, Snape called “enter,” and she would, but instead, the door jerked open, making Ariel jump in surprise. Snape was towering over her, like he’d been waiting, his face smooth, but eyes glittering. He was Professor Snape — he did the same exact thing when he let the Gryffindors and Slytherins in for Potions.

“Hello,” Ariel said, hiding the book behind her back.

Snape stared down at her. “You have tissue paper in your hair.”

Ariel inspected the ends of her hair, which now came down to just above her shoulders. She plucked out a piece just as the door slammed shut in her face.

She glared up at the door, and knocked again. The door flew open, the light emanating from inside of Snape’s office creating jagged lines across his face.

“What?” Snape ground out.

“Can I come in?” Ariel asked, trying to peer around him.

His lip curled, but she noticed that his shoulders sagged, like he’d been expecting this. “No, Miss Evans, you may not.”

She frowned. “But we have our detention tonight.”

“It’s Christmas.” Snape said. “The staff would crucify me if they found that I had a student scrubbing cauldrons.”

Ron had said almost the exact same thing to her this morning, during breakfast. For some reason, Ariel found this to be hysterically funny, but bit her tongue to keep from laughing.

“What if the…” Ariel looked around warily, leaning in closer. “What if you-know-what shows up?”

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Has it?”

“No,” Ariel shook her head. “Not since last time —”

“Then consider this my Christmas present to you.” Snape said shortly, and then slammed the door shut again.

Ariel huffed, scowling up at the door. She considered throwing a Hex at the door, but she was almost certain that Snape’s door was probably Cursed so that it ate students that tried to break in. That was what some of the Ravenclaw students had theorized, anyway.

She knocked again, and waited a few seconds. There was no answer.

“There could be a minotaur down here, and you’ve just locked me out of your classroom.” Ariel called loudly, tapping her foot impatiently. “That wasn’t what you promised.”

The door nearly swung off its hinges this time. His face was menacingly biting in the torchlight, his teeth bared down at her, and Ariel could tell that he was milliseconds away from laying into her, or docking Gryffindor ten trillion points, but luckily, she spoke first.

“I have something for you,” Ariel said. “An actual Christmas present.”

Snape's face quickly twisted, like his face was inverting in on itself.

“Here,” Ariel held the book out to him. “I found this and… well, I thought you’d might like it.”

Snape stared down at the book like she was presenting him with some of Hagrid’s compost heap.

“Go ahead,” she nodded her head down at it. “I’ll leave after, if you want. I swear.”

The book was in her outstretched hand one second, and gone the next. It took Ariel a minute to realize that she’d been plunged into darkness too, the force of the door slamming shut causing the torches besides Snape’s door to go out.

“You’re welcome,” Ariel muttered. “Merry Christmas to you too.”

She half expected the door to come flying off the wall and mow her down, but the corridor stayed silent. Ariel shivered, wrapping her cloak around her as she walked away, wondering what she had done to get such a reaction from Snape. He was so bloody weird all the time. Just when she thought she had him figured out, he did something like this. He was about as tangible as Nicholas Flamel, sometimes.

Ariel stopped. Something was coming together inside of her brain, something terrible and brilliant and very… Slytherin of her.

She bit back a smile, and broke into a jog.

———

Snape usually enjoyed Christmas, because it meant that everyone left him the fuck alone.

He had the house elves fill the staff member’s stockings up with coal in the staff room, which Dumbledore found amusing, but the rest of them seemed to find it rather confusing, if they weren’t outright insulted. Luckily, after years of doing it, Severus no longer received passive aggressive mentions of it at breakfast the morning after, which alleviated the pressure to actually buy them gifts. Severus would’ve rather ripped out his own fingernails than buy any of his colleagues a present. That meant he had to exert large measures of thoughtfulness, which was reprehensible.

Lily-thing had, of course, trounced over this tradition by giving him a gift. Not only had she privately sought him out to hand deliver it, but Lily-thing had clearly recognized whose handwriting was littered throughout the book, had read through the conversations and decided that she wanted to share it with him. Severus had thrown it in the fireplace, Pince be damned. He’d Hex her into next Thursday if she tried to give him any fucking grief about it.

that wasn’t what you promised

I found this and I thought you might like it

After Lily-thing had gone, Severus had spent the better half of the hour with a cold compress on his head, trying to stop his hands from shaking. The girl hadn’t mentioned Lily in weeks, so for her to present him with tangible proof of their friendship, their old antics memorialized on paper was — it was —

Severus needed to get rid of this — whatever this feeling was. It felt like panic, but it manifested differently, like he was set to a different frequency somehow. This was how he decided to go and interrogate Quirrell. He’d already had at him a few days prior, but it was Christmas, after all, and if Severus was going to try and take him by surprise, this was the night for it.

It was well after curfew now, the shadows long and still in the corridors. Severus kept his eyes sharp, looking for any signs of anything unusual. Lily-thing hadn’t mentioned the darkness in nearly two weeks, which meant that she was overdue for a visit. He’d been keeping track, and it seemed to be happening in twelve day intervals. He didn’t know what it meant — nothing in the books he’d been scouring had anything like it, unless it pertained to some sort of spirit attachment. If that were the case, however, Lily-thing wouldn’t be the only one seeing it.

It only made Severus more frustrated, more fearful. If even Dumbledore couldn’t pinpoint what was after the girl… there was no telling how or when this would end.

Severus screeched to a halt when he felt the pocket watch in his trousers vibrate. It was Charmed to do so if Lily-thing left Gryffindor Tower after curfew — when she wasn’t supposed to.

it’s just a stupid theory

prove it

Severus’ mind wandered to the girl, who should have been fast asleep in her Tower. She’d looked like she was wearing the bloody scarlet letter this morning, in that horrendous Weasley sweater that fit her like it was trying to eat her. It had matched the color of Lily’s eyes. He thought of her daughter’s wide, excited eyes as she’d drunk in the Great Hall, and how he’d started when he’d heard her laughter. He’d never heard it before.

Severus rounded the corner, the pocket watch hot against the palm of his hand. When he looked down at it, it read, “Restricted Section.”

Something hot and piercing when down his throat. He was going to throttle that harebrained little FOOL.

something wouldn’t stop saying my name

Severus charged in the direction of the library, the entirety of Gryffindor’s points on his lips. Panic clawed up his sternum, desperate and wild, that he did not notice when he broke into a run. What the hell was she thinking? Was it childish revenge for denying her the detention? Or outright, blatant defiance?

There was something seriously wrong with that girl if she was rebelling because he had denied her the burden of spending time with him.

He threw open the library’s doors, dust dancing in the undisturbed air in front of him. Moonlight glinted through the windows, the only source of light in the vast expanse of a room. Severus took an uncertain step forward, quickly lighting the end of his wand with a silent Lumos. He marched forward, surveying the rows of tables and chairs, before turning his attention towards the lines of bookcases.

A scream echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls in all directions. Severus whirled around, taking off in the direction of the sound — the Restricted Section. When he got there, however, he found it empty, a single book strewn across the ground. Some little, annoying voice in the back of his head told him that if Pince or Granger were to uncover the scene, they would have likely reported a homicide. Severus picked it up — A Hist’ry of Blood Charm. The shriek would’ve come from the book, since this kind of literature required a blood sacrifice to be read, but what would the brat need with this?

Unless… Lily-thing was looking for something she shouldn’t have.

There was no girl attached to the book. How had she slipped past without Severus seeing her?

“Point me,” Severus hissed down at the watch.

Severus heard her footsteps, then, heard them move father and farther away, and the pocket watch vibrated against his hand again.

Corridor

Why that little —

Severus took off, throwing the book to the ground as he tore past the bookcases and out of the library. He paused to listen, but there was no sound, no voice, no sign of life.

He stared down at the pocket watch.

Corridor

“Which one?” Severus snarled.

Library

He whirled around, expecting Lily-thing to be directly behind him, but there was nothing. Furious, he stormed farther down the corridor, scouring the walls for any sign of Lily-thing, for any crevice she could’ve wormed herself into, but there was none. She was going to have far worse to worry about than a minotaur when Severus was through with her. He was going to make her regret ever breaking a fucking promise.

Wide, panicked eyes staring at him over the bustle of the Great Hall

it’s me you want come and get me

I never should have let you see

I have something for you

Severus stopped when he heard them again — footsteps, retreating in the opposite direction.

Footsteps, but no girl.

He was going to mangle her into a pretzel when he got his hands on her. Lily-thing couldn’t have possibly taught herself a Disillusionment charm — she was far too young, and the magic too complex, too mature for her — so how the sodding fuck was she concealing herself?

The pocket watch vibrated once more.

First floor staircase

Severus bared down, and followed.

———

Snape was still hot on Ariel’s trail — how the heck was he doing it? He hadn’t called out for her, and he wasn’t gaining speed. Maybe he had Student Out of Bed radar… that seemed that a magical invention he would come up with.

It shouldn’t have surprised Ariel that even with an Invisibility Cloak, Snape still would’ve figured out a way to find out she was breaking curfew. This did, however, make her infinitely more thankful for her stepfather’s cloak, which despite Snape knowing her general location, kept him from actually seeing her and sentencing her to real detention (or a fate worse than death).

Ariel stopped behind a stone pillar and took off her boots, the floor freezing beneath her feet, even with socks. She’d be more quiet that way, even if her toes got frostbite. All she’d wanted was a stupid book about Nicholas Flamel, and had somehow ended up with a book screaming in her face. This thought bothered her more than it should have. If books could talk, why couldn’t they all and make her life easier? Although screaming wasn’t really talking, Ariel supposed, but it was a really good way to let professors know you were doing something you shouldn’t have been.

She swerved into an empty corridor and pressed herself against the wall, holding her breath until she was clear, but Snape kept popping up at the end of the stupid hallway. He’d come charging down like death on the warpath, and Ariel would scamper ahead of him until they repeated this process all over again. It was becoming exhausting, and Snape seemed to be getting angrier and angrier. He started to resemble a minotaur after the fourth pit-stop, his breathing labored, clouding the air in front of him. Ariel could see his hands shaking. She just needed to get back up to Gryffindor Tower — if Snape accused her of anything, she’d play dumb, and he wouldn’t have a complete fit.

The hallway-tactic didn’t seem to be working. As Snape barreled up and down the corridor, checking something in his hand Ariel couldn’t see, she racked her brain on a way to ditch him. She wished Hermione was here more than ever, wishing she was with her, underneath the cloak. Hermione would’ve whispered something brilliant ino Arie’s ear, and they could’ve been halfway to Gryffindor Tower by now.

Ariel surveyed her options. There was a classroom to her left with a door cracked open. This was the first instance she could think of where she was actually thankful for being so small, because as she eyed the opening, Ariel knew she could probably squeeze through without Snape hearing a thing.

She craned her head to see where Snape was. Perfect, she thought to herself — he was at the other end of the corridor and hadn’t pivoted yet. Ariel tiptoed sideways, carefully not to make a sound as she slid through the door, ducking into the classroom.

It was unused, it seemed, the desks and chairs pushed up against the far back wall. Wads of balled up parchment littered the floor, cobwebs clogged up the corners. Ron would’ve taken one look into this room and left — he hated spiders. Between the cobwebs, on the wall adjacent from the cluttered furniture, was a mirror. It was huge, at least four times the size of her, with a phrase carved at the very top. She squinted up at it, edging closer to the mirror to look, when —

Ariel nearly screamed when she looked up into the glass, because Snape was standing RIGHT BEHIND HER —

Only it wasn’t just Snape. Someone else was there too. It was a woman with wine red hair, just like Ariel’s, and bright green eyes. Ariel knew that face. She could’ve picked it out of a crowd of ten thousand people, if she had to. She whirled around, desperate to see the woman standing behind her, just within her reach, but the room stayed empty, except maybe for the spiders for company.

Ariel slowly turned back towards the Mirror. The woman and Snape were there, like they existed just beyond the glass.

“Mum?” Ariel whispered, her voice cracking. “Mummy?”

Mum smiled, and it looked like her heart was breaking. Ariel turned again, but there was nothing but air behind her, nothing but dust and shadows and pale moonlight filtering in through the windows, casting uneven lines against the vaulted ceiling.

“How…” Ariel whispered. “how are you here?”

Mum didn’t say anything, she just smiled and nodded. Confused, Ariel looked back up to Snape, but he wasn’t fuming down at her in homicidal rage like he should have been. Instead, his face was calm — not shining with hunger and joy like Mum’s — but it was reserved enough that Ariel could tell he was… content.

Ariel pressed her hand up against the mirror. Mum did the same.

She did not try to stay quiet as she wept.

———

Severus was seriously considering breaking his oath to Dumbledore in swearing he would never practice Dark Magics until the Dark Lord rose when he saw the door at the end of the corridor sway. It moved only slightly, but it caught Severus’ gaze like a hound catching the scent of a rabbit.

The door twitched, like someone had just brushed past it. Severus locked onto it, barreling forward. There was nowhere for Lily-thing to run now, not with him standing between the only exit and her escape.

find her where was she why couldn’t he SEE HER

He shoved the door open with his shoulder, his hands outstretched to grab the girl, when the moonlight glinted off of something to his left.

Severus froze, his body seizing up like he’d been locked in a Body-Bind. He’d forgotten what was being kept in here, had been so careful that he’d gone to incredible lengths to make sure he did not so much as pass by it, knowing he could not withstand the temptation… that he’d be able to see Lily again, and that he would not be able to stay away once he did.

The Mirror taunted him from across the room, its ornate frame sparkling. Severus had nearly forgotten about Lily-thing when she saw her melt back into existence, like she was peeling herself out of thin air.

The Invisibility cloak pooled around her feet like a puddle.

He’d known Potter had it, but had never actually caught him with it before. Lily had mentioned it in passing their fourth year, and Severus had begged her to go to McGonagall, or even Dumbledore about it, since Potter was consistently wreaking havoc with it, but she’d rolled her eyes at him and told him that Potter would learn his lesson in time.

And he had, it seemed.

A rushing current of loathing curled around his heart. What was Lily-thing doing with Potter’s cloak? Had he left it to her? Had she had it all this time? No, surely not — this had Dumbledore written all over it.

Or are you bothered by the fact that Potter has given more to your own child than you ever could?

Severus stood completely still, hidden by the shadows. He could tell what Lily-thing saw just by looking at her face. It was a dome of multi-colored class, each shade shining clearly, brilliantly on her thin face. Grief and longing so thick that Severus couldn’t have cut through it with a carving knife. Happiness that transcended joy itself, lighting up her dark eyes.

It was when Lily-thing began to weep that Severus sagged against the wall. Every instinct inside of him screamed for him to leave, to get the fuck out of there and leave the girl to mourn, but something else tore at him. Guilt that reverberated inside his chest, building as it crescendoed, knowing that he should try to comfort the girl or get her away from here before whatever devices the Dark Lord had came looking, but Severus could not move.

And somehow, that was worse than leaving or offering the girl some shred of kindness.

He turned when he heard someone move beside him in the shadows.

———

How long Ariel sat in front of the Mirror, she did not know, but it felt like something between a few hours and a couple of seconds. She never wanted to leave, never wanted her eyes to leave her Mum’s face.

“It is a wonderfully terrible thing, that Mirror.” said a voice from behind her. Ariel nearly jumped out of her skin in fright, her insides turning to ice. She had forgotten there was a world behind her, that time had continued on just beyond her back.

She whirled around, expecting to see Snape or Filch or even worse — the Giant Smoke Monster — but it was Professor Dumbledore. He was wearing the same robes he’d worn at the feast, a bright holly red, mistletoe stitched onto both sleeves. With the red pointed hat, Dumbledore looked a great deal like Father Christmas.

“I didn’t see you, sir.” Ariel said, her face suddenly very hot, but the rest of her body cold.

“Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you, isn’t it?” Dumbledore said, a smile stretching across his face from under his beard. He sat down on the floor beside her, crossed legged, just like her. “So, you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised.”

Ariel turned so that she was facing Dumbledore, but could keep her eyes on her Mum and Snape. “I didn’t know it was called that, sir.”

“But I expect that you’ve realized what it does?”

She nodded. “It shows me my parents.”

Dumbledore inclined his head. “That it does, but it does not show every person the same thing. For example, I see myself holding a pair of woolen socks.”

Ariel couldn’t help but giggle at that. Dumbledore smiled again, his blue eyes twinkling down at her.

“So… it shows you what you want?” she guessed.

Dumbledore nodded. “It shows you your heart’s greatest desire. In your case, it is your parents. For myself… well, it is what evades me every Christmas season.”

Ariel smiled, gazing backup at the Mirror. Snape rolled his eyes, while Mum’s face broadened into a smile, one that seemed to echo Ariel’s laughter a moment ago.

“Your father has spent the better half of the year avoiding this room like the plague.”

It took Ariel a minute to register what Dumbledore had said. She could practically hear the exclamation point that appeared above her head flashing and pinging around as she gawked at Dumbledore. He stared back calmly, unfazed, but she could’ve sworn that she saw his lips twitch.

“Y-you — you know?” Ariel squeaked.

“I do,” Dumbledore inclined his head towards her. “though, I must say, I’m quite surprised it took you as long as it did to read that letter.”

She continued to gape at him. “How did you — how —”

“I went through your mother’s trunk after Professor Snape took you to Hogwarts.” Dumbledore said gently. “She left memories behind for you and your father.”

“Memories?” Ariel asked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“That is a conversation for another time,” Dumbledore said, gazing up into the Mirror himself. “But your mother and step-father left you behind much more than just a letter and an Invisibility Cloak.”

Ariel followed his eyes. Mirror-Snape stared down at her, like he was watching something interesting and didn’t know where it was headed. Mum pressed her hand against the glass and smiled sadly. Ariel’s heart twisted inside her chest, panging with longing.

She looked down at the cloak in her lap, and then back to the Mirror. There was no James there, from what she could tell, but she wished he was there, too, beside Mum and Snape. Ariel hoped that thought would be enough for him to materialize, but he didn’t.

“I can’t help but feel like I don’t deserve it.” Ariel ran her fingers through the material gingerly. “I don’t see James in the Mirror, and he loved me so much that he died. What does that say about me? I still love him, and Mum says he loved me like I was his own. So why don’t I see him?”

Dumbledore gave her a thoughtful look. “I would think that would be quite obvious. While James was certainly devoted to you, he was not your biological father.”

“Yes, but…” Ariel trailed off, not wanting to say what she really felt out loud, but feeling like she had to. She turned away from Dumbledore, trying to find the words to explain why she felt so selfish, so awful while she stared into the Mirror, while also not wanting to change a thing.

“Professor Snape hates me.” Ariel said, looking at the floor, and wondering if she was the first student to have a dead mother write them a letter to tell them one of their professors was their dad — probably. “I can’t help but think telling him was a huge mistake, and I can’t take it back. Sometimes, I think it would just be better to pretend like James was my dad and forget about Mum’s letter, but I can’t, and I don’t know why.”

Dumbledore was very quiet for a long time. The seconds trickled by, and Ariel found herself staring back at her Mum. She was even more beautiful in-person than in the pictures.

“He does not hate you.” Dumbledore finally said. “Hate is… a word I don’t use quite often. I find it very hard to believe many people find it inside themselves to truly hate someone. Hatred can very quickly turn into something else, something that can lead the very best of us into ruin. You, of all people, have a very good reason to hate — several people, in fact — but do you really harbor those feelings?”

Ariel’s eyes shot up to him. Dumbledore had leaned back, his fingers pressed together, just below his mustache. “Who would I hate, sir?”

Something that looked like affection — or maybe it was just pity — flashed across his face. “Well, one could argue your aunt’s family.”

She considered this. Ariel did hate the Dursleys. She thought a lot about hating them when she’d been at the Burrow. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Ah, but do you really?” Dumbledore leaned forward. “Do you wish harm on them? Do you want to see them suffer?”

Ariel thought about Snape ruining Aunt Petunia’s bedroom and kitchen, how the toilet had been in her pristine white bathtub, the fabric of her model home tearing apart at the seams. She daydreamed about Aunt Petunia’s reaction, of her fainting while Dudley screamed bloody murder in the background, and Uncle Vernon clutched at his chest in shock. None of those fantasies ever involved them actually dying or getting really hurt, but Ariel imagined that if she popped off, Aunt Petunia would probably have thrown a parade. Ariel didn’t feel that way, though, she felt… almost indifferent. There was no sadness at the thought of something happening to the Dursleys, but she certainly didn’t want it. Ariel knew what it was like to yearn, to ache for something so badly that it hurt your bones.

“I guess not.” Ariel admitted quietly. “I don’t ever want to see them again, but you’re right. I don’t really hate them. I just hated living with them, because they really hated me. I don’t want them hurt, though. I just don’t want to ever see them again.”

Dumbledore opened his mouth, and then closed it, like he’d decided that now wasn’t the right time. He nodded, like she’d answered correctly. Ariel wasn’t sure if there was a right answer, though.

“I would think,” Dumbledore said. “that Professor Snape does not hate you, my dear. Can you think of no other reason why he might have shown any sort of hostility towards you these past few months?”

Because he doesn’t want you, he wanted Mum

“It has to do with what happened between him and Mum, I know that.” Ariel said dejectedly. “Maybe he doesn’t hate me, but he doesn’t like me either. I keep thinking if I do something different, maybe it’ll change, but it hasn’t, and I don’t know what else to do.”

Ariel stopped herself, feeling like she was minutes away from rambling. She’d never spoken like this before, not even with Hermione. These were the kinds of things Hermione said she knew with her eyes, but couldn't get Ariel to say herself, out loud. Something about talking with Dumbledore had unlocked a piece of her, like he had known all this and had been waiting for her to say it.

Dumbledore placed a hand on her knee. When she looked up into his face, she could not tell if it was sadness, or pride. It confused her even more, that she could not tell the difference.

“Professor Snape must’ve cared about her something fierce, didn’t he?” Ariel whispered.

Dumbledore placed the Invisibility Cloak into her lap. “There is one thing I know about your father, Ariel, and that is that he is without a doubt the fiercest man I have ever known, in everything he sets his mind to.”

Her lip wobbled, and Ariel hated herself for it. Crying wasn’t going to do a damn thing. All Ariel had done was cry, and nothing had been solved, nothing for her mum, for Snape, or this stupid bloody Stone that they had to find —

“You must understand, Ariel, that Professor Snape is an incredibly private man.” Dumbledore continued quietly.

“I know,” Ariel said quietly. “I just wish I could see what Mum did.”

Dumbledore gave her arm a comforting squeeze, and then he rose. “I’m sure you will in time, my dear girl. In the meantime, I must ask that you do not look for the Mirror again. Men have wasted away in front of it. It does not bode well for you, should you seek it out again.”

She nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. She would have faded away to nothing in front of the Mirror, and been content with that. It would have been enough for her, she didn’t need anymore than what was inches away.

“Professor?” Ariel asked quietly. “May I ask you something?”

“You already have,” Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling like fairy lights. “but you may ask me one more thing.”

“You said Professor Snape doesn’t want to come in here.” Ariel hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “What do you think he would see, if he were to look into the Mirror? Would he see the same thing I do?”

Mum looked to Mirror-Snape, who’s gaze hardened, like he couldn’t comprehend what Ariel was saying. Dumbledore’s face followed hers, as if he saw Mirror-Snape, too, and was about to ask him a question. He was silent for a very long time, though. So long, in fact, that after a while, Ariel forgot about her question and began to stare back into the Mirror again.

“Whatever he would see,” Dumbledore finally said. “I would think it would make him realize that what he desires is not unattainable.”

Ariel wanted to ask him what that meant, but he was already leaving. She sighed, staring up at Mum, who shook her head, as if she was just as confused. Mirror-Snape glared at Dumbledore’s back.

She wrapped the Cloak around her shoulders, and began to think.

———

Something behind Severus’ eyes began to unravel, faster than a spool of yarn. He could feel his blood pumping in his eyes, roaring like a forest fire. There was an insatiable need to move, to leave or reveal himself, but he couldn’t make himself go forward. He wanted to pry the girl from the Mirror and rip away the pain shining from it. It would have been bearable, had she not said what she had to Dumbledore.

The old man left, leaving the girl alone once more. She sat in front of the Mirror a while longer before she moved. Miss Evans stood, pressing her palm to her mouth, and then back to the glass. “I can’t come back, I’m sorry.”

Her voice cracked on every syllable, and Severus closed his eyes. He could not watch her leave.

Coward

Once Miss Evans passed over the threshold, Severus felt everything inside of him let go. He was left with a feeling of being utterly hollow. If a breeze blew past him, he was quite certain he would have keeled over right then and there.

The Mirror was waiting for him. Severus braced himself, his Shields stuttering back into place as he readied himself for her face, for her gaze, but it did not come.

He stared at himself in the Mirror, baffled. No one appeared. And then —

He lifted up his sleeve, his skin translucent in the mirror’s reflection. There was no scar, no faded skull etched into his skin. Even though it was barely visible in reality, as it had been since the Dark Lord had fallen, the Mirror gleamed back at him, the skin almost sparkling in comparison.

Severus stared into the Mirror, stared at his arm, wishing he could see straight through to the marrow.

When he tore his eyes away, he could have swore he saw a flash of red.

———

To be continued...
End Notes:

A/N: There is also some canon dialogue scattered throughout here, most of it during the conversation between Ariel and Dumbledore.

I know there wasn’t a whole lot of Snape-Ariel interaction this chapter, but alas, I can’t force them to have a conversation every time. Maybe they’ll cooperate for the next one.

Review are always appreciated (please, lol)

Chapter 15: these ties that bind by shostakobitch

Severus penned a single note.

You are relieved of your detentions for the remainder of holiday. Do not leave your dormitory after curfew again, if you do not wish to suffer a far worse punishment.

Professor S.S.

He set down the quill and stared down at the parchment. There hadn’t been a visit from the darkness in weeks. The girl would be fine, Severus would keep an eye on her. It’s not like he had classes of moronic children to teach for the next week and a half, but he would not put himself in a position where they were forced to interact. He couldn’t handle that, after tonight.

He continued to study the paper. It should have been gone already, sent without a second thought, but there it sat, the words waiting to be dismissed from view.

Severus… did not want to send it.

This realization was a crushing blow to Severus’ ego, like he’d taken a Stunner to the chest. He had tried so hard not to care, not to let the girl through his walls, and somehow, she had. Maybe it was genetic, a biological weapon Severus had never seen coming. Maybe resistance was futile. Miss Evans was a part of him, and he was a part of her, no matter how hard Severus tried to deny it. And… it was almost impossible to ignore the nagging voice that told him not to send this note to her.

Severus buried his face in his hands. This had to be the lingering effects of the Mirror. Miss Evans had, as she always did, taken Severus completely off guard.

He stared at the note, and then, with a flippant flick of his wrist, sent it. The girl would see it when she woke, and she would not understand. It was best this way. Miss Evans could see no more than she already had, and in order to keep this… thing from festering any more, Severus needed a few days to collect himself.

“She will be fine,” Severus muttered into his hands. “she’ll be safe.”

The emptiness of his quarters echoed his words around him, over and over again, until morning came.

————

Tell me

She knew that voice, cold and high —

Tell me what it says

It was looking for her, but it already knew where she was, it just needed a way in.

The wanderer weary

She stood with her back turned, hair cascading down her back.

Tell me what you know

The woman turned from the mirror, and suddenly, all there was was a bright, green light —

Full of fear

Ariel awoke, her body tangled in the sheets. The only sound in the room was her panting, her hair sticky against her clammy forehead. She threw her legs over the side of the bed, trying to steady her breathing. It was still dark outside, and Ariel wished more than ever that Hermione was here. She would’ve shaken her awake and told her what she’d seen, what she’d heard, and Hermione would’ve scooched over in her own bed and let Ariel sleep beside her.

But Hermione wasn’t here. Even Lavender or Parvati snoring away would’ve been comforting, because it would’ve meant that Ariel wasn’t alone, peeking into the dark corners of the room and praying that the Giant Smoke Monster wasn’t climbing it’s way towards her.

Her scar burned, though. It felt like it was going to crack open like an egg, when she’d woken up.

She reached over to her bedside table, fumbling for Snape’s coin, when her hands found a folded note instead. It had her name on the front, in Snape’s handwriting. Her excitement quickly dissipated, though, after she read it. Ariel had known it was coming, in one form or another. Snape had known she’d snuck out after curfew and sent him on a very long game of cat and mouse.

It hurt more than it should have, to be written off, but Ariel recalled his face staring into the Mirror, how his emotionless mask had cracked right down the middle for a moment. It had hurt to look at it, because…

The only thing Snape could ever want was the one thing he couldn’t have.

She crushed the note in her fist.

————

“An Invisibility Cloak,” Severus said, letting his voice convey every inch of his displeasure. “You gave the girl an Invisibility Cloak.”

Dumbledore gazed up at him with a meekness Severus didn’t believe for one second. “Well, given the circumstances my boy, I would have hoped it would put your mind at ease.”

Severus bit out a snarl, fists balling at his sides as he paced the length of Dumbledore’s desk. Back and forth, back and forth, his boots slamming against the stone as Dumbledore watched him, a curious twinkle in his blue eyes.

“Where the hell did you even get it?” he bit out, a taste in his mouth like metal. “Don’t tell me it was in that damn trunk at Petunia’s all this time.”

“James left it with me just before he and Lily went into hiding. There were extenuating circumstances within the order that facilitated a need for it.”

“And you’ve decided to give it to Lily’s daughter.” Severus said flatly. “How touching.”

“I will admit that I was quite disturbed when you imparted Ariel’s recent visitations to me.” Dumbledore said heavily. “Whatever Tom is up to, if she needs cover, the Invisibility Cloak will grant it to her. She’ll be hidden from whatever agent he is using.”

Severus felt like a caged animal, trapped, desperate, panicked, and the feeling was growing steadily, not giving any signs of letting up. He hadn’t been able to sleep, his dreams haunted by the girl’s terrified expression, his nose pressed up to the glass of that miserable fucking Mirror. He thought of the hunger in her thin face, and wondered if Lily had stared back at her similarly. There was a small tug in the back of his mind, one that delighted in the fact that Miss Evans had not seen Potter, but he and Lily.

It had kept Seveus awake, envious that he could not see what Miss Evans had, but equally horrified by it. It was a dangerous thought, a deadly dream. He supposed that was why Dumbledore had chosen to reveal himself that night. If Miss Evans had gone back to the Mirror again and again…

Dumbledore’s intervention at the Mirror had been an act of mercy, and this made Severus angrier.

“Potter would be turning in his grave, if he knew that Miss Evans had that Cloak.” Severus muttered bitterly. “It was not yours to give.”

Dumbledore blinked up at him, as though he’d been taken by surprise. “On the contrary, James left Ariel the Cloak specifically in his will.”

Of fucking course he had, Saint Potter providing Severus’ child with protection and galleons and love that Severus had never been afforded to give the girl herself.

Not until now, whispered Conscience. Why do you care so much?

“I don’t want her having it,” Severus bit out. “she’ll be up to no good in no time. How do you expect me to protect her if we can’t see her?”

“Surely a bit of childish curiosity never hurt anyone.” Dumbledore gave him a pointed look. “You mean to tell me you never left the Slytherin dormitories after dark?”

“That is not the point!” Severus snapped. “Miss Evans is being hunted by something we cannot see, and if something were to happen and we can’t find her —”

He broke off, his breathing labored. Every time he thought of it, his heart burned inside his chest, like he was standing at the edge of a steep cliff, wondering when the next bout of wind would knock him clean off. Terrifying, most of all, was that Severus knew what this was. It had hounded him day and night when Lily had been in hiding, the heart-stopping fear that he would awaken one day only to find that she was —

“I would not have given her the Cloak if I did not think Ariel would use it responsibly.” Dumbledore said gently.

Severus gave a humorless snort. “Is that where your little speech stemmed from last night? Your irrevocable trust in the girl?”

He gave him a long, searching look. “I was quite moved by her words, were you not?”

mummy

professor snape hates me

he loved her something fierce

The pit in his stomach grew, threatening to swallow Severus whole. He forced it down — down down down — until there was nothing left but emptiness, nothing but his Shields holding him up.

“She is young,” Severus grimaced, the words hurting on the way out. “she doesn’t know what she wants. She doesn’t understand the situation she’s in, that I am required to be in. Or have my spying duties escaped your brilliant mind?”

Dumbledore folded his hands together, like he was about to listen to a long story he’d heard countless times before. “Have you decided how to move forward, then? Do your objections to the situation stem from a place of parental concern? Or duty? One could argue they are one and the same.”

Severus had — and hadn’t. It had been all he’d been thinking that night. Miss Evans had successfully wormed her way into his thoughts, waking and unconscious. The girl hadn’t given him so much as a passing glance since he’d canceled their detentions, spending all of her time with Weasley-twerp until Know-it-All returned from holiday. It stung him more than he cared to admit, but it would pass. Time healed all wounds.

(most wounds)

He had to be rid of her, if Miss Evans was going to survive whatever was coming. Severus had been keeping an eye on her, shrouded in shadows and Disillusionment spells. She’d taken to sulking, Weasley-twerp’s annoying suggestions of entertainment only yielding the smallest smiles and head nods. It enraged him, to know that a few days lacking his presence had this effect. There was obviously something seriously wrong with the girl.

“I can’t look after her in the way she thinks I should.” Severus said, his voice void of any emotion. “It’s not realistic, Albus, surely you must know that. Even if I were to wash my hands of my place in the Dark Lord’s ranks, I am not fit to be any sort of guardian to a child.”

He thought of his own father, for the first time in many years. Rarely seen, but often heard had been all that Severus could gather from Tobias’ example. He’d barely given Severus a passing glance most days, his early mornings and nights spent down at the pub. Severus knew he was home when he heard him shouting. His mother had revelled in setting him off. The man hadn’t had a nurturing bone in his body, and children needed such things.

Not to mention that Severus hated the little dunderheads — but Miss Evans was not like the rest of the students. She was stubborn and passionate and annoyingly persistent in her endeavors, but there was unmistakable care in everything she did. Severus saw it when she’d brewed with him. Miss Evans looked at Potions with a reverence, an understanding that armed with the proper ingredients, the possibilities were endless. That had been what lured Severus in, until darker magic had tickled his fancy, opening up an even broader world of understanding, of opportunities, of power.

“Have I ever told you what I believe to be the moment Tom truly became Lord Voldemort?”

Severus screeched to a halt, his boots almost leaving skid marks. His eyes narrowed warily. Dumbledore offered up information about the Founders, old acquaintances, and past Headmasters like it was candy. Anything personal, or about the Dark Lord, however, was about as easy to wrangle out of him as getting Minerva to concede a Quidditch match.

“You haven’t,” Severus said slowly.

“Ah, well,” Dumbledore’s eyes dimmed, like they had taken a dive below the surface of a wave. “You see, Tom is not a Pureblood, as you’re well aware. His father, and his father’s family, were Muggles.”

“What does this —”

“As an orphan, I would imagine that every child’s personality is piqued about who their parents are,” Dumbledore held up a patient hand, continuing on. “As Tom was. He found his father while he was still at Hogwarts, you see. Even then, I had sensed that there was something… wrong with the boy, but I never suspected he could… well, given the circumstances, I suppose it was the perfect storm. When Tom revealed himself to his father and grandparents, they rejected him outright, and Tom responded by massacring the entire family, right then and there.”

Severus stared, and stared, and stared.

“You think the girl is… capable of that?” he said slowly, the words sounding ridiculous out loud.

Dumbledore looked startled. “Goodness, no! I only meant that rejection leads to resentment, my dear boy. You have the opportunity to raise Ariel, and she will only be stronger for it, I would imagine.”

His heart began to thrum away to an entirely new level of panic. “She wouldn’t, I cannot possibly —”

“Clearly Ariel has seen something in you worthy of her affections.” Dumbledore said gently, soothingly. “You have let her see parts of you no one else has.”

“That was not my choice!” Severus spat, but there was a great desperation growing. Get it away shut it up hide them hide them all —

“In every single action you take, you are making a choice.” said Dumbledore. “You made a choice to see Lily a little over a decade ago, and you made a choice to rid yourself of that rendezvous. You made a choice to watch the girl every evening, to ensure that she is safe. Surely there were other avenues you could have taken, but you chose to watch her yourself.”

“Because there is something after her —” Why did no one see this besides him? Why did no one else care about what happened to that foolhardy child?

“There is no shame in admitting that you have formed an attachment to the girl,” Dumbledore said, not unkindly. “but you must pave your way so that she may do the same. Otherwise, there will be nothing but turmoil for Ariel to work through, and she will have enough trials and tribulations in the years ahead. Your choices now are intertwined with her upbringing, whether you like it or not.”

Severus wanted to smash something, but he was too tired. He had been for a long time. Perhaps he had gone soft, but he couldn’t afford to think about that right now, because even though it was complete and utter insanity, Dumbledore was… right.

Lily had made a choice in telling Severus through her letter. Lily had chosen to entrust the girl with him, despite his past atrocities. Was she going to age with grace? Was Miss Evans going to age without mistakes? Lily would never know, she had not been afforded the privilege of watching their daughter grow up, but she would have wanted Severus to. She would have made him promise, on pain of death. After all, wasn’t this all for what Lily would have wanted?

When Severus looked back to Dumbledore, he had his answer.

————

Ariel had never been so happy to see someone in her entire life, the day that Hermione arrived back from Christmas holiday.

She was flush and breathless as she caught sight of Ariel and Ron, waiting for her excitedly by the Great Hall. She practically ran them over as she hurried towards them, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright. Before Ariel couldn’t even get a greeting out, Hermione was talking at them a mile a minute, waving excitedly with her hands.

Something that sounded like one long sentence strung together came tumbling out of her mouth. Ariel looked at Ron, who looked back at her, before staring at Hermione.

“English, please,” said Ron.

“I — know — who — Flamel — is.” Hermione wheezed. “I figured — it out — this morning.”

Ariel thought her face might split open from how hard she was smiling. “You’re absolutely brilliant, Hermione Granger, do you know that?”

“It was — phew — because of your gift!” Hermione rested her hands on her knees, still trying to catch her breath. “He was on the back of one of the chocolate frog cards!”

Ariel was hit with a strange sense of déjà vu, like she’d had this conversation before. She racked her brain, trying to remember what was so familiar about all this, when it clicked.

Ariel’s eyebrows hit her forehead. “Wait — I knew that! That’s where I knew the name from, from the Hogwarts Express, when we bought candy off the trolly!”

“Well, bloody hell, what’re we standing around here for?” Ron demanded. “Tell us what you found!”

“Not here,” Hermione scanned the entrance quickly — the Slytherins were making their way inside, to Ariel’s great disappointment. She would’ve hoped that Malfoy and Pansy would’ve gotten trapped inside their fireplaces, or exploded from eating too much Christmas dinner, or some other horrible fate.

“Library?” Ariel guessed, and Hermione nodded eagerly, linking her hand in Ariel’s as she pulled her along, Ron on their heels.

Madam Pince gave the three of them a particularly nasty glare as they entered, but didn’t object as they hurried inside. There was no one there, since almost all of the students were returning from holiday now, but Ron made them choose a table at the very back of the library, where nobody could hear them, just in case.

“I couldn’t believe it, when I saw his name.” Hermione said, as they scrambled into chairs. “It was sitting in front of us the whole time, and we never put two and two together.”

Ariel leaned forward eagerly in her chair. “Well, don’t keep us waiting.”

Hermione reached into her cloak and pulled out a piece of parchment. The edges were torn, but the words were typed, which meant that she’d found in a book (surprise, surprise). Ariel quickly tried to remember just how many books Hermione had taken home over break — it was somewhere around a dozen, she recalled.

“You ripped that out of a book?” Ron’s eyes tripled in size. “Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?”

“Oh, hush.” Hermione shot back. “That book was as heavy as me, and I wasn’t going to lug it all the way down here before I unpacked.”

“You could’ve used a Shrinking Spell, you numpty.”

“We haven’t learned Shrinking Spells yet, you prat!” Hermione said, an angry blush rising to her cheeks.

Ariel didn’t think she could take much of their arguing with the answer hanging over them. She grabbed the page from Hermione’s hands, scanning it with laser-beam precision.

“‘The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher’s Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers.’” she read aloud. “‘The Stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drink immortal. There have been many reports of the Philosopher’s Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr Nicolas Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year.’ So… whoever wants that Stone is trying to become immortal?” Ariel’s eyebrows knitted together.

“It has other properties too,” Hermione admitted. “great healing powers, transformative abilities.”

“Yeah, but who needs all that if you can live forever?” Ron interjected. “I’m with Ariel, I’d say immortality is much more likely.”

“Who here wants to live forever, though?” Ariel asked, more confused than ever. “I mean, I guess the answer is anyone, but if it’s being kept here, it’s to keep it safe. Who wants it so badly that Professor Dumbledore would try this much to make sure it stays out of their hands?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione took the parchment from Ariel’s hands. “I tried the entire train ride back to come up with a list, but I couldn’t think of anyone. It couldn’t be a student, but none of the staff would be here if Professor Dumbledore didn’t trust them.”

“Well,” Ron said darkly. “there is one greasy git who might want to get his claws on it.”

Hermione shot Ron a horrible glare, smacking his arm.

“I already told you, it’s not Snape.” Ariel sighed, sick and tired of this argument. If Ariel didn’t know what she did about Snape, she supposed she would’ve suspected him, too.

“Yeah?” Ron scowled, falling back in his seat. “Then why’s he had you in detention all these months, huh? We could’ve been looking for more information about the Stone and Flamel, but he had you scrubbing cauldrons. Don’t you think it’s a little suspicious? Maybe he caught on that we know something, and he’s trying to stop us from finding out more!”

“Ronald, if that were true, Professor Snape has had loads of time to steal the Stone.” Hermione bit her lip, her face set in determination, but her eyes told Ariel a different story. “He saved Ariel at the Quidditch match, and he’s her —”

“It’s not Snape,” Ariel said in a steely voice. “Besides, I haven’t had a detention with him in days. If he was up to something, it would’ve happened already. It’s not him.”

“Fine,” Ron grumbled. “I’m not saying we should write him off, but he’s the only bloke who fits the bill. So who else could it be?”

Little flecks of rage dug into Ariel’s mind, but she quickly shoved it far away from her. “I don’t know.” she said, feeling frustrated. “Even knowing who Flamel is and what the Stone does, it doesn’t make sense of all the weird stuff that’s been happening. I mean, the troll and the Bludger were one thing, but the Smoke Monster…”

“Have you seen it at all?” Ron looked extremely worried all of a sudden.

Ariel hesitated. “Not for a while, no, but I’ve been having dreams about it.”

Hermione and Ron exchanged a concerned look.

“What?” Ariel frowned. “What is it?”

“You're dreaming about it?” Ron scratched away at the table, not meeting her eyes. “You haven’t mentioned that, mate.”

“It hasn’t come up!” Ariel shot back defensively. “And I can’t very much help it!”

“I know that!” he held up his hands. “All I mean is… is it getting worse?”

She thought about it, scrunching her nose as she searched through the Giant Smoke Monster category inside her brain. It hadn’t spoken to her, except in dreams, and it hadn’t hounded her like it had the day that Bludger had gone completely mental. That was around the same time Ariel had started dreaming about the woman in the mirror. She realized, with a jolt, that maybe it was her mum in the Mirror of Erised she’d been thinking of this whole time, but she couldn’t see the dream lady’s face, so Ariel couldn’t be sure. The Giant Smoke Monster dreams, however, had gotten… more frequent. She hadn’t thought about how bad they were until Ron had asked.

“I can’t tell,” Ariel shook her head. “It’s maddening, too, because I think I know whose voice it is, I just can’t remember. The green light always comes and ends it.”

Hermione’s face did something strange, then. It seemed to shudder, like she’d be restarted, like Dudley’s Muggle computer, after he’d tried to force quit one of his games and broken the stupid thing for the hundreth time. Her eyes narrowed in concentration down at the tabletop, where Ron was still scratching away.

Ariel almost didn’t want to ask what she was thinking. “What? What is it?”

“Well,” Hermione swallowed, her eyes flitting to Ron. “if you think about it, there is someone who would want the Stone… more than anyone, I would imagine. And they’d have even more of a reason to be following you.”

Ariel shot Ron a puzzled look, who looked equally as confused.

“Does your scar hurt?” Hermione asked, her brown eyes serious. “When you wake up? You said it’s hurt in the past, when you’ve seen that — thing during the day.”

“Yes, but —” Ariel broke off when she saw Ron’s face go blank, like he’d had a similar realization. Neither of them said anything, sharing stolen glances between each other, and Ariel’s felt her patience beginning to wane. “What?” she asked, trying to filter out the desperation in her voice. “Snape already keeps enough from me — not you, too!”

Both their heads shot up in shock, Hermione’s eyes widening in hurt. “I’m not trying to! Do you really not see it?”

Before Ariel could even stop to think about it, Ron leaned across the table and said: “Mate, what if it’s You-Know-Who?”

Ariel felt like she’d be launched over the side of a waterfall. “What?”

“Think about it,” Hermione said slowly. “You-Know-Who can’t get into the school, right? So maybe… maybe someone is trying to steal the Stone for him, and You-Know-Who is… somehow trying to find you, too.”

“Everyone says he’s not really dead,” Ron shivered. “Maybe it’s true, after all. They never found a body, from what Bill’s told me. He could kill two birds with one stone… no pun intended.”

“Ron!” Hermione snapped.

tell me

a feeling in her teeth like scissors

cold, high voice melting into laugher that went on and on and on

your mother and father gave their lives for you

every day I am reminded that she is gone

Ariel leapt up from the table, knocking over her char. “This is ridiculous. Voldemort isn’t in the school, and he’s not in my dreams! It’s got to be someone else!”

Her feet carried her away from Hermione and Ron without Ariel having to think much about it. Something had clicked off in her brain — something that shone like the green light in her dreams, tapped away like nails on a windowpane. Her hands shook at her sides.

“Ariel, wait, I didn’t mean to upset you!” Hermione caught up with her quickly, her face apologetic. “I only meant —”

She wasn’t listening. Something was coming, something she couldn’t see yet, but she could sense it, like the tingling in her belly before casting a spell, the cadence between cracks of thunder. Ron and Hermione’s voices echoed in her ears, but Ariel didn’t hear them. She needed to get away from them, keep them safe, because if the Giant Smoke Monster was working for Voldemort, or even worse…

The din of the Great Hall brought Ariel back to her senses. The bright lights and warmth, the feeling of being surrounded by other people. She let out the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding in, feeling more like herself.

Hermione’s hands clutched at hers. When Ariel turned, she looked like she was on the brink of tears. She immediately felt horrible, not understanding why she’d yelled at them and run away. It was all incredibly disorienting, until —

“Look, boys,” said The Last Person Ariel Wanted to See. “looks like Red Cap over here finally decided to do something about her hair.”

He was talking about the headband — Ariel had nearly forgotten that she’d had it on.

“Shove it, Malfoy.” Ariel threw over her shoulder, tugging Hermione along. She rarely gave him the time of day when she wasn’t messing with him, and this only seemed to make him angrier.

“What’s wrong?” Malfoy’s smirk stretched into a mocking grin. “Didn’t you enjoy being here, all alone with the Weasel? Or did you miss those stupid Muggles that clearly don’t want you back?”

“I’d take eternal solitude over having to listen to you for another second.” she snapped back.

“You know what I think?” Malfoy leered. “I think the Sorting Hat chooses a whole lot of nobodies for Gryffindor. Look at you lot — Evans has no parents, Weasley has no money, and Granger has no reason being here at all!”

“Ignore him!” Hermione hissed in her ear, but something else was whispering too, and it was getting louder.

“Funny,” Ariel rounded on her heel. “I didn’t know you could think at all. I can hear the echo bouncing around from inside your skull, most days.”

“Look at that, I think I’ve finally hit a nerve!” Malfoy closed the gap between them. “Princess Evans has finally graced us with a conversation! I guess supposedly defeating You-Know-Who doesn’t carry as much weight as you thought it did, does it, Evans? You’ve still got nobody.”

“She’s got us,” Hermione said shrilly. “don’t you have somewhere better to be, Malfoy?”

“I wasn’t talking to you, Granger.” Malfoy said cooly. You know what, Evans? I think all this You-Know-Who business is hogwash. Your parents probably went and blew themselves up to get away from you, if your Muggle family is any indication.”

Ron began shouting something angrily at Malfoy, a group of older Gryffindors quickly coming over to see what all the commotion was.

Something moved before Malfoy, rising from the floor, like it had always been there.

There it was, bigger than Ariel remembered. Part of her, a distant, forgotten piece of her was alarmed by this, but it didn’t matter. The sounds of chatter faded, like they’d be sucked into a void, the colors falling off the walls and beneath the floor like watercolors. There was a silent breeze tussling her hair across Ariel’s face as she stared up at it.

Do it, It said.

And then Ariel lunged, and decked Malfoy right between the eyes.

She didn’t know how she ended up on top of him, only that she must’ve hit him hard enough that he’d fallen like a ton of bricks, and that she couldn’t stop. The world got darker and darker, until Ariel couldn’t see anything at all, only feeling her hands colliding with Malfoy’s face over and over. She was distantly aware of hands on her shoulders, her legs, her back, her arms, trying to pry her off, but it was like she couldn’t let go, even if she wanted to.

For the briefest of moments, Ariel looked up at the darkness, looked right at it, and it spoke once more.

Tell me what it said.

And just like that, she was back, the colors and sounds slamming into her like a freight train, the darkness lingered. She could hear a hum in the air around her — not the hum of magic, the song in her bones and blood — but the steady drone of a voice, of a moan, of a yearning so deep it shook the floor.

Ariel stared down at her hands, blood smeared across the knuckles. Ron pulled her away, hiding Malfoy from view, while Crabbe and Goyle helped him up.

“She’s mental!” Malfoy wailed. “I didn’t even draw my wand!”

Ariel ran.

The next thing she knew, she was in an alcove. After a moment of trying to catch her breath, she realized that it was the same alcove that she and Hermione had read Mum’s letter in. There was leftover wax from the candles in the corner, and what looked like a burnt photograph in front of her feet. Ariel couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here, or if anyone had followed her, or what had happened to Malfoy, but before Ariel could turn, she heard someone.

There was a hand on her shoulder She jolted, like someone had turned her spine into a broomstick, but she quickly relaxed when she heard a silky voice say. “Be still — it’s me.”

Ariel hadn’t so much as looked at Snape since the Mirror, since he’d sent that stupid note. She’d known she deserved it for breaking his trust, but it had hurt nonetheless, even if it wasn’t permanent.

“What’re you doing here?” Ariel croaked.

“Miss Granger came and found me,” Snape's voice rumbled from behind her. Ariel could feel it all the way down to her toes. “what happened?”

She really and truly did not know. It hadn’t felt like her back there, punching Malfoy over and over again. It had felt good, but not in the way she would’ve expected. Now that it was over, all Ariel felt was empty — empty and scared and alone.

Ariel examined her bloody knuckles. They would likely bruise. “I don’t know, once I started, I couldn’t stop.”

“You saw something,” Snape’s eyes burned into hers. “It’s returned, hasn’t it?”

His hand lingered, a comforting weight against her. It tightened as Ariel’s breathing quickened, desperately trying to slow down her heartbeat. She wondered if Snape could hear it.

“It’s been in my dreams,” Ariel whispered. “it won’t leave me alone.”

Snape was silent for a long moment, but Ariel could feel the air curdling behind her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You told me to stay away —”

“I did no such thing!”

“You said enough!” Ariel shouted at him, ripping free of his grasp. She turned on her heel, all of her anger, her hurt, her guilt funneling themselves into this great and terrible thing inside of her, needing out out OUT.

Snape’s nostrils flared. “Watch yourself, girl.”

“Watch what?” she threw up at him, watching it smack him in the face. “All I do is watch! I probably get it from you, since that’s your specialty.”

He glowered down at her, his eyes flashing in warning, like a coin at the bottom of a pond. “I am only trying to understand what happened. I am not your enemy, Miss Evans.”

“Why?” her voice faltered. “Why do you bother if you want nothing to do with me?”

Snape said nothing. His face was inscrutable, the torchlight the only part of his features that moved.

“You were there that night, weren’t you?” Ariel demanded, looking him right in the eye, black against black. “You knew I was out of bed, and you saw me in front of the Mirror, heard what I said about it, and you haven’t said anything to me. Why?”

For a moment, Snape seemed completely baffled. He did not wear the look well at all. “What in Merlin’s name does this have to do with —”

“You only care about me,” she swallowed roughly, her throat throbbing in time with her manic heartbeat. “when I’m in danger. That’s it. Anything else… you don’t care what I do or what happens.”

Snape said nothing. A breeze whipped through the two of them from the alcove window, his robes the only part of him that moved.

“Well?” his silence made her angrier, and she shot forward, shoving him away with all her might. “Go! Go give points to Malfoy for getting a rise out of me! I don’t care!”

Trying to move Snape was about as easy as trying to move one of the stone pillars, and being the tiniest student in school certainly didn’t help. Still, Ariel threw her hands out in front of her over and over again, wanting to run and never stop, to feel the stone slap beneath her feet until she was far away.

After a minute or so of throwing herself at Snape, his arm shot out and caught hers. It didn’t hurt, but he held enough of a grip that it made her chest stutter, the timpani of her heart skipping time. His face rippled, like a body moving behind a curtain. Ariel looked up into his face, and suddenly Dumbledore’s words echoed in her ears, from a distant and secret place.

he is without a doubt the fiercest man I have ever known, in everything he sets his mind to

And then Snape pulled Ariel to him, her nose smashing against his hip. His arm was like a vise around her shoulders. It took a second or two for the shock to wear off, but as it did, a warmth enveloped her, a feeling like starlight bubbling up inside her.

Ariel turned, and buried his face against his side as tears sprang into her eyes. She felt Snape stiffen, but he did not push her away. It wasn’t comfortable, but she would’ve stayed there forever, and it would’ve been enough.

And for right then and there, it was.

It was enough.

———

To be continued...
End Notes:

A/N: Surprised to see a chapter? Me too! I don’t know where this came from, but I wrote it yesterday and wrapped it up earlier today, and figured “why not?”

I posted this on my Tumblr, but I haven’t been getting much of a response lately, so if that happens with this chapter, I’ve decided not to post until June, when schools let out, and I have time to sit and write. I do try and write 1,000 words a day, but when there’s little to no response, it makes this more tedious, and I love this story, and don’t want it to become a chore.

Stay safe, and until next time! x

Chapter 16: the rising deep by shostakobitch

Severus stared down at the pocket watch, making certain that it read Gryffindor Tower before placing it back into his trousers.

Dumbledore turned away from the window to gaze back at him, rain battering against it. The room was quiet, save for the fire crackling in the hearth and Fawkes’ gentle preening. Even the portraits were silent, grave expressions on their faces as they waited for the current Headmaster to offer his opinion on the matter. Severus had come to him after making sure Miss Evans had climbed through the Fat Lady’s portrait, and there had not yet been a single word exchanged between the two, only solemn stares that conveyed the seriousness of the situation. Severus didn’t know where to begin, really, and he supposed Dumbledore didn’t either.

Unspoken words hung in the air between them, like breath curling into mist. It took every mite of Severus’ strength not to break something, to force himself to believe that Dumbledore cared about the girl’s safety as much as he did, and that he wasn’t being purposefully obtuse. They both had too much to lose if something happened to her — the thought was incomprehensible. The old man’s silence, however, was only adding to Severus’ uneasiness as the seconds dragged by.

once I started I couldn’t stop

it’s been in my dreams it won’t leave me alone

you don’t care what I do or what happens

Severus stifled the urge to check the pocket watch again.

“Minerva is quite upset.” Dumbledore finally said, the grim expression on his face unwavering. “Rightfully so, but I’ve convinced her to hold off any punishment until morning.”

Severus kneaded his forehead with his thumbs, leaning heavily against the back of a chair. “That’s your concern right now?”

Dumbledore hummed a short, quick sound, like he wasn’t quite sure. Severus knew, though — he knew that he’d been disturbed at what Miss Evans had seen, what she’d heard, and what she had done. Severus knew, because he felt it, too. It hung high above their heads, just below the vaulted ceiling, where the whir of magic usually was. The office’s once comforting glow now seemed ominous — warning lights, a red sun rising at dawn.

“It is a good thing you found her when you did,” Dumbledore went on, his voice heavy.

Severus could still picture Granger flying into his office, the door slightly ajar since he had been preparing to leave for dinner. There was a frantic, fresh sort of panic that Severus had not seen since Miss Evans had crashed into him on Halloween. Granger hadn’t even managed to say whatever she’d flown down to the dungeons to say. Severus had known it was Miss Evans, and he’d known that it wasn’t good.

Severus swallowed roughly. “She said it’s gaining more of a form, becoming more corporeal.”

Dumbledore lifted his eyes back towards the window, wind slamming the rain against the glass. “It spoke to her again, you said? Did it demand anything?”

“No, it just… told her to act on her impulses.”

Dumbledore made a new kind of sound, one that was strong and disapproving. “That type of behavior cannot be tolerated, Severus.”

“It wasn’t her doing,” he forced through gritted teeth. “surely you realize that.”

“On the contrary, it’s for that very reason I must insist Ariel be dealt with, and swiftly.” Dumbledore said, his eyes dark and intense, like the storm outside. “Resorting to violence, even when persuaded, must be discouraged. She cannot fall into the habit of using force when faced with adversity.”

Severus’ temple began to throb. “She’s eleven, for Merlin’s sake. The little beasts brawl like common Muggles until they learn to throw their first Hex.”

“Ariel will be tempted more than any of them,” Dumbledore said seriously.

“You never gave a damn when Potter and Black threw punches for far less.” he snapped.

Fawkes stopped his grooming to stare up at Severus, as if he understood that he had let something slip he hadn’t meant to, and wanted to make sure he knew this. Severus sent him a warning glare, and Fawkes chirped, cocking his head at him.

“Those were far different circumstances,” Dumbledore said, not unkindly. “James was not Marked for something no child should be subjected to.”

Severus threw himself off the chair, balling his fists at his sides. “This is pointless. You need to do something — or better yet, let me have my way with Quirrell, if you truly think he’s somehow involved.”

Dumbledore’s brow furrowed. “I cannot allow you to practice Dark Magic within this school.”

“Dark Magic can find whoever’s doing this!” Severus snarled.

“I forbid it, Severus.” Dumbledore's face was stern and unyielding. “Ariel cannot be exposed to such things, especially now.”

“She would not be exposed —”

“You are her father,” Dumbledore said, and Severus flinched. “If you were to fall into old patterns, she would inevitably make contact. She is too young and would not be able to resist the temptation.”

Like you, a voice whispered, you could not resist, and it cost you everything.

“It would keep her safe!” Severus shot back, but his voice wavered. He cursed himself for it.

Dumbledore’s eyes softened. “I know you worry for her —”

“Don’t mistake this for pity.” Severus hissed. “That girl is being hunted.”

He recalled her bloody knuckles, the way they shimmered in the pale light. Her thin face twisted in pain and misery, her black eyes shining with tears, and a childlike rage that Severus knew all too well. That rage would turn into hunger, and when it did, the girl would destroy herself from the inside out as Severus had, almost a decade ago. He’d spent so much time seeing Lily in the girl that he had forgotten that half of her was also Severus, and that she could be susceptible to the same darkness that had lured him in. The parts of Severus in their daughter could ruin her.

He would move Heaven and Earth to make sure that did not happen. He owed it to Lily.

“It cannot harm her, I promise you.” Dumbledore took a tentative step towards him, his robes trailing behind him. “I would not allow Ariel to stay here if I was not certain of this.”

Severus gave a humorless snort. “No, you’ll just allow it to torture the girl into insanity.”

“Which is why I am thankful that she is spending her evenings with you.” Dumbledore sighed, and it was a tired sound, one that Severus had never heard before. The year had heralded many things he had heard for the first time. Even after working for Dumbledore for a decade, Severus was still irritated to find that he hadn’t quite figured him out yet. It frightened him to know that a wizard as seemingly all-knowing as Dumbledore could be equally as lost as Severus was.

He glared at him, wanting to rip that solemn look right off his face. “Detention isn’t going to keep that thing at bay for much longer.”

“No, but it will keep her under close watch. It hasn’t attacked her while she’s been with you, has it? I would suppose that’s for a very good reason.”

“Until it becomes desperate.” Severus said bitterly. “Then what would you have me do? I cannot fight an enemy I cannot see!”

Dumbledore ignored his question. Fawkes chirped happily at him as his brow deepened in thought, murmurs from the portraits amongst one another offering no possible insights. They’d insisted that they had never seen anything like this before inside of Hogwarts, but this was not news to Severus. There had never been someone like Miss Evans, either.

“Did Ariel mention what triggered this?” Dumbledore fell against the side of his desk, hands gripping the sides. There was a faraway look in his eyes, one that told Severus he knew more than he was letting on, but couldn’t decide if it was worth sharing.

“Draco was pining for her attention,” Severus muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “Unfortunately, it seems that Lucius forgot to teach the boy some tact. He has the subtlety of a freight train, and has been ruthless in his approach.”

“I assume you’ll be speaking with him?” Dumbledore’s eyes flashed in a way that told Severus this was not a suggestion.

“I won’t be able to do much, if that’s what you’re implying. Draco will grow bored eventually, but once Narcissa and Lucius hear what Miss Evans did to their precious baby boy… Lucius will be mortified, but Narcissa will likely want blood.”

“All the more reason that Ariel must understand the gravity of the situation.” Dumbledore said with a sigh. “She does not need more enemies, although Minerva has mentioned that Draco has been particularly vicious. Have you seen no cause to intervene?”

He hadn’t — what the little dunderheads did amongst themselves, Severus couldn’t have given less of a fuck about. As long as they weren’t causing bodily harm to one another (Miss Evans had checked that box off tonight), Severus didn’t bother… well, unless he found out that one of his Snakes was being harassed by another House. Then Severus took great pleasure in exercising his authority over the little shits. The favoritism was enough to keep the Slytherins in check, for the most part. The harassment from the other Houses, particularly the Gryffindor’s, mattered very little to the students if they knew Severus would always rule in their favor.

“Miss Evans has appeared unaffected.” Severus said, nonplussed.

Dumbledore inclined his head. “I would beg to differ.”

“Obviously,” Severus snapped back. “I would think that the boy has learned enough of a lesson. The girl broke his damn nose.”

“There is no harm in speaking to Draco,” Dumbledore said, almost resignedly. “He will have to make his own choices, in time. There’s certainly no harm in giving him a gentle push in the right direction.”

“A gentle push, or being beaten to a pulp by a girl half his size?” Severus muttered. “I see no discernable difference in the lingering effects you wish me to have on the boy. He’ll back off for the time being.”

Dumbledore gazed pensively out the window. “You would know best, Severus. I trust you.”

Then let me find who’s doing this, whispered a dark, insidious voice. Let me tear them limb from limb, let me do what I need to.

“That still begs the question of what to do with Miss Evans.” Severus joined Dumbledore beside the window. Gryffindor Tower was visible in the distance, sparks of light blooming behind the windows, even through the sheets of rain. Severus would’ve bet his wand arm the pyrokinetics were the work of the Weasley-terrors. He wondered if they were trying to cheer the girl up.

Dumbledore’s searching look went straight through him, like an X-ray. “If it is Tom —”

Severus knuckles cracked at his sides, and the shadows grew longer, darker, hungrier.

“ — then it is imperative that we keep a closer watch on Ariel. She should not go anywhere unaccompanied from now on, especially after curfew.”

Severus very nearly rolled his eyes. He’d put a Sticking Charm on her to keep her in that blasted Tower, if it came down to it. If the girl went anywhere she wasn’t supposed to, Severus was going to fucking lose it on them all.

“And Quirrell?” Severus asked softly.

Dumbledore folded his hands in front of him, and gave a ghost of a smile.

————

Ariel entered the girls’ dormitory expecting to be given the cold shoulder, but instead, found Lavender and Parvarti lying in wait. She hadn’t even managed to make it over the threshold before something crashed into her, squeezing her ribs so hard it was a bloody wonder they didn’t crack.

“Oh, Ariel,” it was Parvarti. “Are you alright?”

“What happened?” Lavender cried from somewhere behind her.

Ariel tried to say Malfoy and his fat mouth, but instead wound up with a mouthful of hair. She sputtered and Parvarti relinquished her hold, a fresh layer of concern on her face. Ariel wanted to feel grateful and relieved, but all she wanted to do was crawl into her bed and never come out.

“What did that prat do?” Parvati demanded. “We overheard Angelina telling the Quidditch team he was running his mouth about your parents.”

Something cold and icy gripped at Ariel. “Yeah, something like that.”

“As if that cow Pansy Parkinson wasn’t enough.” Lavender fumed, but it was diluted by the fact that she’d settled back on the floor, clothing items strung across the stones. “What’s his problem?”

Ariel shrugged, not really knowing the answer. It wasn’t about Malfoy — it was about the Giant Smoke Monster — but she couldn’t go telling them that. They’d think she’d gone completely mental, and Ariel had a hunch that half the castle would be thinking that by tomorrow morning. She supposed Malfoy didn’t like being snubbed, and Ariel had been doing that practically since the moment she’d met him. The Gryffindors would take her side, obviously, but she had a feeling the Slytherins weren’t going to react well at all.

Parvati sighed. “It’s the whole lot of Slytherins, really. I’m sure Professor Snape won’t dock Malfoy any points for saying all that rubbish.”

Dark eyes slashing through the moonlight like razors

I am not your enemy

“No,” Ariel said tonelessly. “Probably not.”

“Maybe he fancies you,” Lavender supplied, rather unhelpfully. “He’s a horrid snob, but he’s not bad to look at.”

Ariel blinked at her, trying not to dry heave. “If Malfoy fancies me, he’s got a funny way of showing it.”

“Don’t you know?” Parvati cocked her head at her. “If a boy teases you, that means he likes you. Boys are too stupid to figure it out.”

She didn’t like hearing that, especially when it came to Malfoy, one bit. “I don’t think any girl should put up with that sort of rubbish.”

“You sound like Hermione,” Lavender rolled her eyes.

“Good,” Ariel bristled. “Girls ought to have some sense, if that’s how boys are going to treat them.”

“Whatever,” Parvati joined Lavender on the floor, shuffling through her trunk. “I’d rather be fancied than hated for no good reason.”

“I think being hated by Malfoy says a whole lot of good about me,” she shot back hotly.

Parvarti shrugged, Ariel’s retort bouncing off of her like rubber. She’d never had friends before, and it was a wonderful feeling to know that even though Lavender and Parvarti were each other’s best friends, they cared about her. Ariel had only ever had one friend before Hogwarts — a boy named Damon, but he’d only been at her Muggle school a few weeks, and had disappeared (to where Ariel had no clue). He’d been the only student who hadn’t been scared of Dudley’s stupid gang.

Speaking of friends —

It was then that Ariel realized Hermione was not there. She should’ve been up here already, unpacking…

Ariel’s gut twisted sharply. “Hey, have either of you seen Hermione? Has she come back from dinner yet?”

Parvati shook her head, her attention quickly diverted to whatever Lavender was unpacking. “Oooh, Lav, that’s gorgeous.”

She looked down at the friendship bracelet. She hadn’t noticed if Hermione was wearing it or not when she’d come in earlier, but looking down at it, Ariel could see that it was glowing a muted yellow. That meant worry — she’d spent her free time memorizing the colors and their meanings so she would never have to guess and accidentally let Hermione down.

Ariel sighed heavily, her feet dragging the rest of her towards her four-poster. She landed face first on the bed, wishing the mattress would swallow her whole. She thought about going to find Hermione, but Snape had told her to stay in her Tower, and she wasn’t about to go disobeying him after what had happened.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to make sense of it all. The Stone and the Giant Smoke Monster were becoming a much bigger problem than she’d anticipated, and she couldn’t help but think that somehow, Snape was more involved than they both knew. The thought scared her — if Snape didn’t know what to do, what chance did they have to stop this thing? Their fun mystery had taken a dangerous turn so suddenly, without warning, and Ariel didn’t know how to make any of it stop. She certainly didn’t want this thing — whatever the heck it was — to get its claws on the Stone, but she wasn’t sure what she could do about it if it could make her lose her nerve like that…

tell me what it says

does your scar hurt when you wake up?

everyone says he’s not really dead

Ariel suppressed a shudder. She hadn’t wanted Snape to leave, but she knew that if she got clingy, he would probably throw her out of a window or something, so she’d reluctantly resigned herself to letting him drag her down to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey had given her a full check-up while Snape had gone to see how Malfoy was doing. Ariel could hear him moaning, and for once, she knew that he wasn’t being overdramatic. Her knuckles had shimmered in the pale moonlight — Madam Pomfrey had vanished the blood before Ariel could ask.

She couldn’t make herself think about the not-hug. It had probably been the most uncomfortable gesture of comfort ever, but she couldn’t imagine ever needing it more than that moment, and Snape had given it… willingly.

“Are you awake?”

Ariel nearly spun herself out of bed, turning to see Hermione climbing onto the opposite end of her bed. She nodded, almost frantically, clutching at the bedsheets as she tried to read Hermione’s face. It was blank, which was not like her. Normally, Hermione hid her emotions about as well as Neville did. Ariel shot a glance down at the bracelet — still yellow.

“Where’d you go?” Ariel asked. Her voice cracked as she spoke, and she cleared her throat, afraid that Hermione would think she’d been crying.

“I went to the library,” Hermione folded her hands in her lap, like she was building up the courage to say something. “I went to do some research after you ran off.”

A rock lodged itself in the back of Ariel’s throat. “I wasn’t —”

“I know,” Hermione waved her off. “That's why I got Professor Snape.”

you saw something

it’s returned, hasn’t it?

Ariel averted her eyes, staring down at the bedspread. “I’m sorry. I know you were only trying to help.”

Hermione sighed. “I know you trust him. He didn’t hesitate the second I said your name. Actually, I don’t even think I got that far. He must’ve taken one look at me and known something was wrong.”

Something warm nestled beneath her ribs. “I’m glad you got him, even after what Ron said.”

“I didn’t believe it.”

“I know that.”

“Sometimes, it’s hard not to, though.”

Ariel felt her heart give a nasty jolt. Hermione stared back evenly at her, like she was an adult, far wiser than Ariel was, as if they both weren’t eleven, and Hermione knew that this was going to happen.

“What do you mean?” Ariel asked warily.

Hermione’s composure slipped, then. Through the cracks of pretend-grown-up-Hermione, Ariel saw her eyes beginning to water. “I mean that you’ve changed ever since we read that letter.”

Something bubbled up inside of Ariel, something she’d felt when they’d followed Snape after Fluffy had tried to chew off his leg. She recalled the look Hermione had given her when she’d insisted on following Snape, just after he’d told her to bugger off.“I should think so, I only found out that I had a parent who was alive.”

“I don’t mean that,” Hermione shook her head. “I know that meant a lot to you, but you’ve been… secretive. You weren’t like that when we first met.”

Ariel traded her grip on the bedsheets for Hermione’s hand. “I trust you more than anyone. I’m sorry, I just don’t know what to do anymore. It’s getting worse, between these dreams and hearing voices and Snape doesn’t even know what to do anymore…”

Hermione was quiet for a long moment, the grown-up facade slipping. Ariel could see her trying to find her next words, that she was choosing them carefully. “Someone who cares about you doesn’t make you keep secrets for them.”

Ariel stared at her, not comprehending her words. “He’s not making me do anything.”

“You’ve been in detention with him for months —”

“How is that keeping a secret?” Ariel asked, bewildered. “I told you that’s where I go every night! Practically everyone knows I’m stuck down there — the Slytherins don’t let me forget it!”

“I know that’s not actually what’s happening!” Hermione’s eyes flitted to Lavender and Parvarti, who were engrossed in a box of jewelry they were organizing. Hermione put up a quick Silencing Spell with a flick of her wand, drawing the bed curtains closed.

“I’m not lying about this, Hermione!” Ariel said in a hushed, annoyed voice. “Why else would I be going down there? Do you think I like gutting toads in those creepy dungeons?”

Hermione sucked in a deep breath. “I overheard Professor McGonagall giving Professor Snape grief about having you down there every night. She was upset, she’d thought you’d served your punishment long enough, and he was so dismissive of her, and even though she was very adamant, he wouldn’t budge. Then I started noticing you coming back from those detentions, and you were so sad some nights, and you wouldn’t tell me anything, and after a while, I started wondering if Ron was right about it being Professor Snape all along, but I know that he’s your father, and you trust him, but Ariel —”

Ariel’s chest felt uncomfortably tight, like she was fighting to breathe. “Then why bother getting him earlier?”

“I didn’t know what else to do!” Hermione said, her voice steady, but her face was shining with tears. “You trust him, but Ariel, he’s horrible —”

“I know that,” she said miserably, but she thought of his arm around her shoulders and felt a wave of guilt crash over her. “but he — he has these passing moments where he’s not, and I wonder if that’s what Mum saw. He saved me from that Bludger — you saw it!”

Hermione bit her lip. “I don’t think Dumbledore would allow him to be here if he didn’t trust him, but that doesn’t make him a good person. You are a good person.”

“He’s a git and a bully, but he’s not evil, and he’s definitely not after the Stone.”

“But then why does he keep you down there every night?” Hermione demanded, her voice splitting between anger and betrayal. “Just tell me! You’re not yourself and I can see it, I would think I know my best friend.”

Ariel wanted to be angry again, to slam up from the bed and storm out of Gryffindor Tower with her Invisibility Cloak and hide somewhere, but she couldn’t dig any deeper than she already had. There was a terrible gnawing that reminded her that Hermione was being sincere, and that she only wanted what was best for her… but where had this come from? Hermione had never confronted her on the Snape Problem so boldly, and even though they were both Gryffindors, Ariel could tell that Hermione had worked up a lot of nerve to say what she had.

She wasn’t going to let her down. Hermione was right — lying had never been Ariel’s thing. She’d never even lied to the Dursley’s much, and that was because she’d never really had a reason to. They never believed anything she said, so she was always truthful, and most times, the truth had always gotten her the same reaction; disgust and disdain. Hermione wasn’t like the Dursleys, though.

Ariel reached into her pocket, and placed the coin into her palm. Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but Ariel held up a finger, signaling for her to wait.

Thank you, she thought, the words fading as soon as they’d appeared.

Go to sleep, it replied a moment later.

Hermione looked incredibly confused. “Wha—”

“It’s Snape,” Ariel said, keeping her voice low. “He gave this to me in case something went wrong. I use it when that — that thing shows up, alright? The detentions are so that he can keep an eye on me. You’re right, I did lie, but he didn’t want anyone to know the truth, and I owed it to him since he’s helping me.”

“But that’s what I mean, Ariel!” Hermione scooted closer. “Why do you have to lie about this? Why is it such a big secret?”

“Because he doesn’t know who’s after the Stone either! I don’t think any of the professors do…”

“Being your father has nothing to do with the Stone.” Hermione whispered, her voice hard, but uneven and clumsy, like a rock falling down a hill.

Ariel stared at her, something hanging in the air between them. It was the same thing she felt in her dreams, when the woman’s eyes met hers from the mirror. Something just out of reach, something precious that floated above an endless abyss, or sat at the bottom of the deepest ocean.

“Tell me what you saw before,” Hermione broke the thick silence, like she knew what Ariel was about to ask, and wanted to stop her. “Please.”

She did, then, pouring out everything that had happened over the past few months. She told Hermione about the Mirror, about the Giant Smoke Monster, how Snape had promised her that he would protect her, and how he’d broken that promise after she’d broken it first.

Hermione was quiet for a long time, her face set in concentration, just like when she was taking a test in class. The longer the silence went on, Ariel began to regret telling her, afraid that Hermione might think she was mental, but just as Ariel went to apologize, to tell her to forget about it, Hermione threw her arms around her. It was a far better hug than the one Snape had given, but something inside of Ariel still felt hollow… strangely empty.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Hermione said once she’d pulled away. “You should have said something!”

Ariel swallowed roughly. “I couldn’t really explain it… I knew it was there sometimes, but I didn't know how. Once Malfoy and I started going at it it felt like I wasn’t in control. I couldn’t help it… it was like I had to listen. All the other times I’ve been able to block it out.”

Hermione’s face clouded with worry. “Has anything like that happened before?”

She thought about it — she didn’t think anything quite like the Giant Smoke Monster had ever happened, but losing her temper wasn’t exactly new. It hadn’t happened often at the Dursley’s — usually, they’d have to do something really horrible to get Ariel to retaliate, but she could remember pouncing on Dudley a couple of times. Usually he was able to give her one good punch to throw her off since Ariel was so small, but she’d never done anything like what she’d done to Malfoy’s face.

“No,” Ariel said quietly. “I’ve never been that angry in my whole life.”

“Did you tell Professor Snape this?” Hermione asked, seriously.

Ariel nodded jerkily. “He knows everything.”

Hermione was very quiet for a moment. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this thing has only shown up after you read that letter.”

Ariel spun up from the bed, her heart burning in her chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I only meant —”

“Just because you don’t understand him doesn’t mean he’s trying to off me!” Ariel shot back.

“That’s not what I was trying to say —”

She could feel it happening again, the anger surging up in her, crashing towards her like a tidal wave. Ariel slammed up from the bed, shoving the curtains back forcefully, which caused Lavender to drop a necklace she was dangling in Parvarti’s face with a gasp.

“What’s going —” Ariel heard Lavender say, but she’d slammed into loo without a backwards glance. The door made the floor vibrate underneath her feet as Ariel struggled to catch her breath, trying to push everything down down down —

The bracelet’s deep blue glow illuminated the bathroom, scattering across the ceiling like starlight.

Ariel had been afraid of this color most of all.

———

Severus found Quirrell in his office.

He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the facade of control slipping the farther he strayed from Dumbledore’s office. He hadn’t promised the old man anything, and while he’d sworn a decade ago to never utilize Dark Magic inside of the school, Dumbledore had never specified using other nefarious means of getting information.

The pocket watch vibrated against his leg. Severus flipped it over, his feet already pivoted in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

Thank you, it read.

Severus stared down at the words, leaning his forehead against the stone as they faded. Miss Evans would not be thanking him if she knew that he had failed her yet again. Months of this thing lurking in the halls, and Severus wasn’t any closer to unmasking the culprit. All he had was Quirrell, and Dumbledore’s gut feeling. He was tired of knowing nothing, and being reminded that something was wrong all the damn time.

It was with this thought in mind that Severus let himself into Quirrell’s office.

His face went white as bone when he caught sight of him. “P-please Severus, n-n-not again.”

Severus leaned across the desk. “Well well, we’re rather presumptuous tonight, aren’t we?”

“I k-know by now w-what you w-w-want!” Quirrell stood, but did not reach for his wand. Severus couldn’t tell if he was being smart, or an even bigger imbecile than he’d originally thought. “I’ve t-told you, I don’t know anything about the S-stone!”

“You don’t think I know what you’ve been doing?”

Quirrell’s eyes widened. “What are you—”

“Come now, it’s quite obvious,” Severus shook his head in mock dismay. “using the students as a distraction?”

“I would n-never —”

“Not even Miss Evans?” Severus hissed.

“I w-would never think of harming a s-student!” Quirrell sputtered. “I swore an oath to p-protect them, same as y-you!”

“I’m going to tell you something, Quirinius.” Severus said, deceptively soft. “Thoughts are never honest. Emotions, however, usually are.”

The end of his wand burned red.

———

Ariel had thought Snape being mad was scary, but he had nothing on Professor McGonagall.

“Never, in my many years as a professor, have I seen two Gryffindor students lower themselves to such depravity!” Professor McGonagall began as soon as Ariel and Ron had taken their seats in front of her. She’d sent them separate notes that morning, as they were heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast, and had reluctantly made their way to her office. “To allow yourselves to be goaded and to act so impulsively — I am appalled that the two of you would resort to such things.”

Ariel stared down at her shoes, wanting to disappear into the floorboards. She hadn’t slept, and Hermione hadn’t been in the dorm when Ariel had finally peeled herself out of bed. She was still angry — it burned hot, like a pile of coal in the pit of her stomach. She’d known that this scolding was coming, but she wished it could’ve waited a while longer.

“So what?” Ron cried out angrily. “Malfoy gets to run his mouth and we just have to take it?”

Ariel rammed the corner of her shoe into his shin. Ron didn’t seem to care.

“Mr Malfoy will be serving the same detention as you, Mr Weasley.” Professor McGonagall said coolly. Her eyes could’ve sliced through marble like butter. “I will send you notice of when and where, and you will do so without another complaint. Is that understood?”

Ariel and Ron exchanged a sullen look.

“Is that understood?” Professor McGonagall asked again, much louder that time. Ariel and Ron nearly jumped out of their skin.

“Yes, ma’am.” they both responded, suddenly very awake.

“Good,” Professor McGonagall stood, her expression frostier than the windowpane behind her. “In addition to your detention, I will also be deducting two-hundred points from Gryffindor.”

“WHAT?” Ron very nearly shouted at the same time Ariel bleated. “Two-hundred?”

“Yes, two-hundred.” Professor McGonagall confirmed, quite mercilessly, like she was assigning them homework instead of ruining their chances for the House Cup. “I would hope that this serves as a reminder that the standards for our House are far above the actions you both decided to partake in yesterday.”

“Please, Professor!” Ariel tried desperately. “We’re so close to beating the Slytherins, we’ll never catch up to them if you take that many points!”

“Then you should have thought of that before you chose brute force in dealing with Mr Malfoy.” Professor McGonagall said stiffly. “I thought much better of you than that, Miss Evans. And you, Mr Weasley, attacking Mr Goyle unprovoked —”

“He was going to put his grubby hands on Ariel —” Ron protested.

“In an effort to save Mr Malfoy’s face, I would assume.” Professor McGonagall finished. “There are no excuses here. You will wait for my owl for your detention assignment, and I will not hear any more complaining about the matter. You’re both dismissed.”

They dragged themselves out of her office, the door shutting itself quite forcefully behind them. Ariel and Ron just looked at each other, both of them equally miserable.

“Well,” Ron finally said after a minute or two. “it was worth it, I’d say. I just wish I could say the rest of Gryffindor would agree.”

“The Slytherins are going to love us.” Ariel rolled her eyes. “They’ll never let us live it down.”

“They might,” he smirked. “I overheard Pansy crying to Daphne after dinner last night. You broke Draco’s nose, and gave him a shiner. I’d be pretty scared of you, if I were one of those creeps.”

“Thanks,” Ariel murmured. “but I think we’re both in for it.”

Ron gave a dejected sigh. “Where’s Hermione? I didn’t see her come down this morning while I was waiting for you.”

“We had a fight,” Ariel said tiredly. She’d never been so tired in her entire life.

Ron frowned. “About what?”

“About…” Ariel didn’t want to tell him it was about Snape. Ron usually never passed up an opportunity to try and usurp Hermione’s opinion, but when it came to Snape, Ron had made it very clear where he stood. “About what happened with Malfoy.”

Ron made a face. “He deserved every inch of what he got.”

“Maybe I did go a bit… overboard.”

“Yeah…” Ron stopped suddenly, giving her a sideways look. “Are you alright, mate? I didn’t see you after you came back last night, but we were all really worried.”

“He just knows what buttons to push, Ron.” Ariel hesitated. “After Hermione said it might be Voldemort after the Stone… I dunno, I just couldn’t take another row with Malfoy.”

He stood there quietly for a moment, hands shoved inside his robe pockets. “I know, I didn’t think I could either, if I’m being honest. Snape doesn’t do anything about him, and it’s not like he’d be dumb enough to do anything in front of any of the other professors.”

The cold and icy feeling slithered down into Ariel’s stomach, clashing nauseatingly with the anger that still burned, that was growing.

“He’s just…” Ariel made a face. “He’s unbearable.”

“Most Slytherins are.” Ron gave her arm a sympathetic pat. “Hermione didn’t agree?”

Ariel shrugged. The anger flared inside her sternum. The ends of her fingers trembled at her sides. Somewhere, a voice called, drowning out whatever Ron was saying as they walked back down to the Great Hall.

Tell me

(what’s happening to me?)

———

To be continued...
End Notes:

A/N: Hello! It’s been a while, but I probably don’t need to explain that life has, as it often is, been crazy.

I’m hoping I did a good job at implying that Hermione looked up what a “Death Eater” was (as per Lily’s letter), and that’s why she decided to come in heavy here. Poor kid is worried, and I can’t say I blame her.

There are pictures of Ariel up on my Tumblr if anyone is interested!

Until next time (hopefully sometime soon!) xx

Chapter 17: shadow of the threat by shostakobitch

Ariel couldn’t remember dreading anything as much as she was dreading going down to the Great Hall that morning.

Her stomach had twisted itself into at least twelve different knots before Ron and her had gone to see Professor McGonagall, but heading into the Great Hall and seeing students whispering about the House points only made Ariel want to crawl back up to her bed and never come out. By the time they had found an empty spot at the Gryffindor table, Seamus had already made his way over Ron, demanding to know what had happened.

“Did you even try to explain?” Seamus asked desperately as they sat down — the Gryffindor Prefects were shooting them nasty looks from the far end of the table, while the Slytherins cheered and hooted behind their backs. Ariel didn’t dare look at them — something inside her, something small she’d forgotten was there, felt like it was going to shatter.

“Of course we did!” Ron had taken nearly half the bacon from the serving platter, but was breaking it into pieces instead of eating. “McGonagall didn’t want to hear it.”

“We were so close,” Seamus moaned.

“We know, thanks very much.” Ron snapped back.

Ariel stayed silent, keeping her eyes on her empty plate. Her eyes briefly flickered to the other end of the table again, only to see Hermione sitting by herself, hunched over a book, like she was trying to cram herself inside of it. Ariel’s heart burned with guilt, but the tiny flecks of anger she’d felt last night stirred as well.

She glanced down at her bracelet — she’d forgotten to take it off, but was afraid that Hermione would too, so she’d kept it on to check. Something about the thought scared her, like it was the final question of a hard test, or waiting to hear if certain news was good or bad. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw it was still bright blue — sad — but Hermione was still wearing it.

Her eyes then studied the staff table — Professor McGonagall hadn’t arrived yet, and Professor Dumbledore wasn’t there either, which was unusual. Normally he was the first one there every morning. Professor Quirrell was the only other adult absent, but he’d been missing from meals more and more lately — Ariel had heard Lavender and Pavarti fretting about it a couple of times, and had picked up that he’d been rather sick as of late, or something like that.

That was when Ariel noticed that Snape was staring right at her. The hairs on her arms stood up straight, because the way he was staring at her would’ve caused Neville to pass out right there, but Ariel couldn’t help but hold his gaze. It was dense, the sort of feeling you got when you stared at the bottom of a dark well.

She felt around for the coin in her pocket, and gripped it in her hand. Nothing, she thought, and slipped it into her rucksack.

“Well, I reckon everyone’s pretty mad.” Seamus said, rather unhelpfully. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, pummeling Malfoy’s smug face in was a great show and all, but the Cup…”

“Yeah?” Ron shot back, louder than he probably meant to. “You try listening to him insult your families six ways from Sunday, and see how you’d like it.”

The Hufflepuffs turned, looking surprised, and even a little empathetic. That was quickly replaced by the Slytherins’ jeering growing louder since Ron had turned around. Ariel glanced back to Snape, who pretended to be checking the time, but she could tell he was reading her message. He didn’t look at her again, though. Instead he started watching the entrance like a hawk. Ariel wondered if he was waiting for the Headmaster, or Professor McGonagall to discuss their punishment. The thought of Professor Dumbledore being disappointed in her almost made her stomach break into cartwheels. If she’d eaten, she might’ve even felt nauseous.

Seamus, in the meantime, left, shooting almost regretful looks as he went back to his spot with the other first years, leaving Ariel and Ron sitting alone together. She took a piece of honeydew from the middle of the table, and smashed it with her spoon.

“I always thought teaching Malfoy a lesson would feel a whole lot better.” Ron muttered.

“The entire school wasn’t supposed to turn on us, I think.” Ariel stuck the spoon in her mouth, barely tasting it — it didn’t even register as sweet. “Just the Slytherins.”

“As if Malfoy and his cronies could hate us even more,” he took an aggressive bite of bacon. “At least he’s stuck in detention with us. Do you think it’ll be with Snape?”

I overheard Professor McGonagall giving Professor Snape grief about having you down there every night —

“I dunno,” Ariel hoped he would, but also didn’t. She hated how much he favored the Slytherins. It almost made her regret asking the Sorting Hat to put her in Gryffindor. She didn’t want to regret anything else, there were too many of those piling up in her mind. If the detention was with Snape, she couldn’t imagine him just letting her brew with him, either. He’d definitely have her and Ron gutting toads, while Malfoy and Goyle probably ate the fancy stuff Uncle Vernon ordered at restaurants sometimes — caviar, she thought it was called. When it came to the Slytherins, Snape always took their side.

Ron wasn’t listening to her anymore, though. His eyes had locked onto the entrance of the Great Hall, and so had everyone else's. Ariel craned her neck to see, since she was almost two heads shorter than Ron, when she noticed the pale blonde head of hair neatly gelled back. Malfoy had finally walked in, it seemed, but it looked like he was trying to become a part of the wall, skulking close to the stones with his head down. Pansy immediately jumped up and went over to him, while Crabbe and Goyle moved apart to give him a seat between them. Some of the older Gryffindor students pointed and laughed, but Malfoy just kept his head low, hands shoved into his robe pockets.

“Well,” Ron cracked a smirk. “I’d say you’ve properly humiliated him.”

Ariel tried to fight it, but she couldn’t deny the twinge of pity she felt, watching Malfoy slip himself between Crabbe and Goyle, shoveling food onto his plate, almost desperately. “Madam Pomfrey sure fixed him up well enough.”

“She should’ve left him with at least the shiner.”

Ariel playfully punched his arm. “I thought I only broke his nose.”

“I savored every one of those punches, Ariel, and trust me, if Malfoy didn’t walk away with a black eye, then I’m the Minister of Magic.”

She snorted, peering back at Malfoy. “He does look awful. Do you think he’s alright?”

“Trust me, his bloody ego is bruised more than anything else.” Ron stared glumly as the Great Hall began to hustle around, getting up from their seats and preparing to head to class. “Thank Merlin we have Herbology with the Ravenclaws this morning.”

She very nearly groaned. Ariel wasn’t going to learn a darned thing — she didn’t know how she was going to make it through classes today, with everything on her mind, and Hermione and her in the middle of their first real fight. Ariel looked back towards the end of the table where Hermione had been before, but she was already gone. Her heart twisted painfully around itself.

The professors had begun to disperse too — Snape had billowed away from the staff table, and was making his way past the Slytherins, barking something at the Prefects.

“He’s going to be a treat this week.” Ron’s complaining was starting to grate on Ariel, but she couldn’t blame him. She was the one responsible for this stupid mess, after all. Well, sort of…. but the Giant Smoke Monster didn’t seem like it would adhere to a detention, even if Professor McGonagall was the one assigning it.

Ariel suppressed a shudder.

That was the exact moment something dropped in front of her. She whirled around, expecting to see Snape looming over her, or maybe an older student who was furious with her for the Cup, or even Hermione, but there was no one. Ariel looked back to the entrance and saw Snape standing there, staring at her again, but when she met his gaze, he pivoted sharply and left.

Detention, — same time. Do not be late.

The not was underlined twice. Ariel sighed heavily, shoving the note into her rucksack, and tried to ignore the pleasant squirm she felt in her stomach.

“Ready?” Ron asked, like he was asking her to jump off a cliff with him.

Ariel swallowed the rest of her smushed-up honeydew, and grimaced. “As I’ll ever be.”

“I’ll tell you something, Evans,” Ron said, handing Ariel her rucksack. “if you see that smoke-thing, you tell it to bugger down the Slytherin’s toilets for the rest of the school year.”

———

Ariel had been right about not learning anything today — Herbology had gone by in a blur, but somehow, Ariel had managed to prick three fingers without knowing exactly how. She and Ron had been attempting to prune an alihosty towards the end, but everything Professor Sprout had said might as well have been buried in the mulch they tried to scoop their plants out of at the end to replant in the garden, besides everyone else's. There’s ended up looking sad and pathetic — Neville’s, however, looked even better than Hermione’s (who Ariel had caught looking at her twice).

They let themselves fall behind the other first years — Parvati and Lavender kept giving Ariel supportive glances, while Dean and Seamus kept trying to sweep Ron away. He stayed beside Ariel, though, especially as they walked up to Transfiguration, which was with the Slytherins. They wouldn’t do anything in front of Professor McGonagall, but Ariel had a feeling they were waiting until after class to make her life miserable.

She clenched her jaw, wringing her palm in the handle of her rucksack, twisting it against her skin. If she tried to skip class, Professor McGonagall would have her head on a stick before lunch, and then probably take more points to boot.

“Can we wait before going in?” Ariel asked, dragging her feet. “I’d like to spend as little time as possible around those creeps.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Ron grimaced. “Did you — did you see it all, during class?”

Ariel blinked in confusion before realizing what he meant. “Oh, no, it uh… it usually takes a break for a while after I see it.”

Ron made a strange sound under his breath. Ariel wanted to ask him what was wrong — besides the obvious fact that he didn’t like being turned into an outsider overnight — but Neville came whipping around the corner suddenly, nearly mowing the two of them down. Ariel let out a yelp, grabbing Ron’s arm as he drew out his wand. If she hadn’t been so startled, Ariel might’ve laughed, because she knew for a fact that Ron didn’t know any defensive spells, which Hermione loved to egg him with. “Did you plan on blinding him with a Lumos?” she would’ve teased, and Ron would’ve turned beet-red.

“S-sorry, sorry!” Neville put his hands up — in apology, or to cover his face, Ariel couldn’t figure out. “I was looking f-for you guys!”

“Well, bloody hell, you’ve found us.” Ron put his wand away as Ariel detangled himself from around his elbow. “I reckon you’re the only one.”

“Y-yeah, everyone’s pretty upset —”

“Thanks, Neville.”

“What do you need, Neville?” Ariel interjected, before Ron’s sour mood turned what could be their only ally against them.

Neville blushed a deep purple. “I j-just wanted to s-say that I thought what you did was brave. Malfoy n-needed to be taught a l-lesson.”

Ariel blinked at him. It was the most she’d ever heard Neville say. Even though she was his potion’s partner, he rarely spoke to her directly. “Uh, thanks, Neville, really, but you don’t have to say that.”

“It’ll make you real unpopular real quick.” Ron said under his breath. Ariel pretended to accidentally step on his foot.

Neville shrugged. “It’s s-still pretty early. W-we could make a c-comeback.”

“Maybe. Fred and George have lost loads of House points in the past…”

“Everyone w-was impressed until t-they saw the hourglasses this morning.” Neville shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “I know you're both in loads of trouble, but Malfoy gets away with everything. If the professors weren’t going to do anything, one of us was going to have to.”

Ariel was going to tell him she’d take it all back if she could — and she would’ve, because something had felt different inside her since she’d listened to that thing — when they heard something loud from inside an empty classroom. She felt her entire body tense up, but immediately felt a rush of relief when Ron jumped about a foot in the air, and Neville let out a squeak of surprise. If they could hear it, it wasn’t the Giant Smoke Monster.

Before any of them could say anything, there was a voice from the other side of the door, along with another series of loud crashes.

“No — NO — not again, please —”

Ariel and Ron looked at each other. Neville had gone as white as a sheet. It sounded like someone was being threatened.

“All right — all right —”

She jerked forward, and for a moment, she could hear Snape’s voice screaming for her to stop —

The door opened just as her hand was on the knob, and out fell Quirrell, who was shaking like a building about to collapse. Luckily Ron pulled her out of the way before Ariel’s nose slammed into his kneecaps, but Quirrell didn’t even seem to notice them. He murmured a string of apologies, fixing his turban as he hurried down the hallway. He didn’t even ask them why they were loitering or if they’d heard anything.

“What was that about?” Ron whispered. “You reckon he’s all there? Seamus told me the other day some of the older students said he’s been acting strange.”

Ariel shrugged — her brain hurt if she thought too much. “I dunno, maybe he’s just gotten a bad Owl?”

Ron didn’t look convinced. “He was in a right state —”

“Let’s just go — we’re going to be late.”

He gave another wary glance at the classroom. “There’s gotta be someone else in there.”

Neville made a sound like a tree bending in the wind.

“Yeah, and we’re not going to find out.” Ariel grabbed his arm, stringing him along.

She watched Ron look over his shoulder as they walked away. She would’ve been lying if she said she was curious too, but too much was happening — too many things they didn’t know, and she didn’t know what would happen if they added one more thing to the list.

Something itched, though — something that felt like she’d been given a puzzle piece she didn’t know where to place.

———

Severus told himself he was fully prepared for Miss Evans’ detention that night, but, as he often found himself with Miss Evans, he was woefully taken off guard.

He’d spent all evening mentally guarding himself for her entrance, uncertain of how she would react to him after what had happened the day prior. Miss Evans had appeared sullen in the Great Hall during the day’s meals and oftentimes left early. Weasley-twerp had remained tethered to her side, but Granger had not, which was quite unusual. They’d practically sat themselves on opposite sides of the table, both pushing their food around their plates and missing the odd glances they shot at each other when the other wasn’t looking. Children were moody little things, but Granger and Miss Evans having any sort of disagreement was… highly unusual. If Severus had cared more about who Miss Evans spent her time with, he might have even found it alarming.

Quirrell had continued to be absolutely fucking useless. There was something suspicious about the spineless twig, but all he did was beg for mercy, and Severus had run out of mercy to give a long time ago. He was, however, still the only member of the staff that Severus still wasn’t fully confident in — the rest of them would’ve laid down their lives to protect the little shits, but the difference between them and Severus was that he had vowed to only protect one, and Quirrell was getting him nowhere in that particular endeavor.

In the meantime, Severus had an entire evening to pick the girl’s brain. There had to be more that the girl wasn’t sharing with him, and they were running out of time. Every moment that thing stalked the halls, it continued to gain the upper hand, and Severus didn’t want to know what would happen when it decided to take more… definitive action. He hadn’t been able to sleep a wink the night prior after speaking with Dumbledore, the girls’ trembling frame and panicked-stricken face all he’d been able to see every time he’d closed his eyes. Miss Evans was frightened — she was slipping further and further away, and it was only a matter of time before the Dark Lord decided to give the final blow. Fear was a driving force, fear could eat you from the inside out, leaving nothing left.

Severus was intent on making sure Miss Evans knew of this before she left tonight. Fear could ruin her, but fear could also save her life, and that promise had become binding the second Miss Evans’ foot had stepped through the threshold of the Great Hall for the first time.

He sat at his desk and waited for her to come. She always did, right on time, and this would be the first detention since the Mirror. She’d caught him by surprise last night, but all he could see in her tear-stricken face was hopelessness, that resentment that Dumbledore had warned him of, and it had shaken him. He hadn’t known what to do, or how to fix it, only that confirming the girl’s accusations would’ve sent her to some bottomless pit of despair, and he wasn’t going to be responsible for that.

The thought that Miss Evans could disarm him so easily was… all the more alarming. He hadn’t known what he was thinking, offering her a gesture of comfort he’d never been able to muster together, not even for Lily, as they’d grown older.

it’s been in my dreams it won’t leave me alone you told me to stay away

why bother if you want nothing to do with me

you don’t care what I do or what happens —

He was seriously out of his depth, but then again, so was Miss Evans. She had no idea what she was getting into, what laid ahead for her, for him, for both their futures. Entwined with one another's, but never to be connected — she couldn’t be allowed to harbor any such affection, not if he was going to return to the Dark Lord, but what Dumbledore had said was the truth. Last night had been a serious lapse in judgement, but what the fuck was Severus supposed to do —

There was a timid knock at the door.

He raised his Shields, and settled into that hollow space, between permanent detachment and insight.

“Enter,” Severus called coldly.

The door creaked open slowly, in the way that children did things — annoyingly slow. Severus grit his teeth as Miss Evans let herself in, her eyes meeting him as she crept inside. She gave a half-hearted wave, her rucksack trailing mournfully on the floor behind her.

She settled herself at one of the workbenches, and then let her forehead drop against the tabletop with a thud.

A muffled sound that sounded like words came from beneath the mess of red hair. Severus stared at her for a moment, contemplating how far he could push his wand into his cranium before he did a significant amount of damage.

“I beg your pardon?” Severus said, almost without a sigh.

There was another string of cavemen-esque noises. Severus contemplated kicking her out, but stifled his growing impatience and bit his tongue. “I’ve just cleaned flobberworms off that, you know.”

Her head shot up, like a fire had been lit underneath her, so much so that she fell backwards off the bench. Severus watched, nonplussed, but also slightly worried that she’d managed to somehow hurt herself. That thought was squashed, however, when she scrambled up off the floor, and narrowed her (his) dark eyes at him.

“That was mean.” she huffed, crossing her arms tightly in front of her.

“I didn’t know we were stating the blatantly obvious,” Severus retorted.

Miss Evans scowled, settling herself back on the bench, and lowering her arms warily back down on the tabletop, resting her head atop them. Severus had never seen her in this foul of a mood before — he wondered if it had to do with Granger. He didn’t care enough to ask.

“I guess you’re going to have me gut toads or scrub cauldrons, then?” she muttered, avoiding his gaze.

Severus stared, scrutinizing her. He’d seen her hysterical, sad, even angry before, but nothing like this. It reminded him of Lily and yet… it didn’t. Lily would have come in shouting and raving, letting Severus know exactly how she was feeling, and why she was feeling it. Their daughter, however, seemed completely oblivious to her attitude. He wondered if that was him, somehow. He tried not to see himself in the girl, save the eyes. She was this little amalgam of him and Lily, and yet… not.

“Is that what you want?” Severus asked, keeping his voice even.

She scratched away at the table, averting her gaze. She made another face, quickly wiping her hands together in disgust. “I figured I would be.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Miss Evans bit her lip, and shook her head. When she looked back up at him, Severus noticed the dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes. She was trying to put on a defiant face, but he could see straight through her. She’d always been a terrible liar.

“Professor McGonagall has already assigned you a detention this weekend, has she not?”

Miss Evans rolled her eyes. “Yes, but —”

“Then this conversation is a waste of time,” Severus said, giving her a pointed glare. “I do not like to have my time wasted, Miss Evans.”

She glowered down at the table, like it had spoken out of turn. “I’m not trying to waste your time. I just…” she trailed off, her mouth clamped shut in a tight line.

Severus counted backwards from ten in his head. When his brain didn’t splatter over the dungeon wall, he steadied himself, and studied the girl again. He’d never seen her throw an almost-tantrum — she didn’t seem the type, but children were moody, fiddly things, and Severus knew for a fact that she’d had a… trying few days.

She scrubbed at her face, and for a moment, Severus felt pity for the girl again, the same feeling that had burrowed around his chest when he’d found her in the alcove. Dumbledore’s voice echoed in his ears — she cannot fall into the habit of using force when faced with adversity, she will be tempted more than any of them.

He stood, and Miss Evans’ eyes snapped to him with rapt attention, like she was afraid, but also fascinated. He sat himself down across from her — she didn’t shrink away, like most students did, but Severus had the suspicion that Miss Evans was no longer afraid of him. He supposed he had himself to blame for that.

“Have you seen it since last night?” Severus asked her, searching her (his) eyes. They were wide and unsuspecting, but he could tell there was something hidden behind there, and that was why, he reasoned, he had not made the familial connection sooner. The girl wore her heart on her sleeve. Her face told him everything he needed to know.

Miss Evans squirmed in her seat. “No.”

“Are you certain?”

The girl hesitated. Severus felt the ends of his fingers begin to vibrate.

“I haven’t seen it,” Miss Evans paused, her eyebrows knitting together. “but I can – I don't know how to explain it!”

“Try,” Severus said, and it felt like he was chewing on glass.

She let out a short breath through her nose and grimaced. “I think I can hear it talking to me, but I can’t tell, it’s not like the other times. You know that already, though. Sometimes it’s in my dreams, but there’s a woman –”

“A woman?” Severus interrupted.

“I don’t know who it is, I can’t see her face. When she turns around there’s this green light, and I wake up.”

She hadn’t told him that. “You’ve never told me that.”

“It’s just a dream,” Miss Evans said, and he did not appreciate her tone.

At the risk of beginning to sound like Trelawney, Severus let it go. He didn’t think he could mentally tackle what Miss Evans’ dream could be. “I don’t know how many times I need to reiterate that it is imperative that you tell me these things.”

Her face fell, and she fiddled with her hands. “It’s… hard to know what’s real and what’s not.”

Severus was going to break something if the girl didn’t stop trying to be purposefully obtuse. “Explain.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know how —”

I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know there wasn’t TIME —

“Miss Evans —”

“I said I don’t know, okay?” she shot up at him, and her face pinched together. “I don’t know anymore! All I know is that I was angry, and it was suddenly right there in front of me, and it knew I wanted to hit Malfoy in his stupid face. It’s never done that, it’s just… told me to tell it something. I think maybe it wants the Stone, but I have no idea where you and the other professors are keeping it! Why does it want me?”

Jesus fucking Christ don’t cry again. “I was under the impression that was the point of these nightly meetings.”

“Well I don’t know!” she slammed up from the bench. “Everyone thinks I have the answers and I bloody well don’t!”

Severus stood, towering over her, and even though she only came up to his knees, she did not seem as small, as fragile. Her anger permeated around her person, her hair crackling like a fire. “There would be no reason to suspect you if you had not been deliberately deceitful!”

“You canceled the detentions!” she shouted at him.

“And you clearly have a death wish for wandering out of bed — alone — doing Merlin knows what, or maybe it was just that plucky Gryffindor arrogance you all revel in so much —”

“I had the Cloak with me!” she said hotly. “I’m not stupid!”

Severus chose this moment to disengage before he said something he regretted. Normally, he would’ve let the girl have it, but after last night, he wasn’t sure how close to cracking the girl was. She seemed to be hovering between Somewhat Stable and Complete Meltdown.

“This argument is pretty stupid, too.” she slumped back onto the bench. “Isn’t it?”

Severus eyed her warily. “I concur.”

“I just… just feel so angry all the time.” she scowled. “It’s those ruddy Slytherins, carrying on about the stupid Cup, and Pansy fussing and making a big deal over Draco when he’s fine —”

“My House,” Severus said pointedly, and the girl turned as red as her hair. “are the least of your problems. They’ll find a new spectacle to fixate on eventually.”

She continued to glower, not at anything in particular, but enough for Severus to take a moment to step away and recollect his own thoughts. He turned, pivoting towards his desk, wondering if this were just the ornery mood of an already incredibly unpredictable child, or the lingering effects of a darker magic, the kind that wove it’s way into your bones, into your soul. The Dark Lord had never asked for any of theirs — if he had their body and minds, the soul was no matter.

When he turned back, she was sitting back on the bench, staring into space. Her expression was much softer, much more contemplative. She no longer looked as though she were on the verge of tears — it was like when the tide pulled back, taking the shells and rocks and algae with it, leaving behind nothing but sand.

“Why did you come last night?” she asked quietly. There was something urgent there, something that did not sound like the request of a child, but held all of the innocence, all of the earnesty only children could possess. “Do you know what’s happening to me?”

Severus thought about dismissing her, of letting her go and scouring the school himself. Past experiences with Miss Evans, however, always left him with a sense of dread, and the knowledge that if he didn’t directly supply it, that she would eventually get what she wanted on her own, and throw it back at him, outraged that he hadn’t just told her himself, as if she hadn’t figured out that he’d rather chew off his own limb than willingly give up information to an eleven-year-old.

Fear was a driving force. Fear could keep her alive until Severus put a stop to this.

hide them hide them all

it won’t leave me alone

come and get me

“What do you know,” Severus began slowly. “about your scar?”

Miss Evans stared blankly at him. “Well… Professor Dumbledore told me it must’ve come from when Voldemort —”

Severus felt the ends of his limbs seize, like he’d been electrocuted. “Do not say the name!”

She jumped about a foot in the air, but this time, Severus was able to grab her sleeve before she tumbled backwards again. She caught onto his wrist and pulled herself back up before gaping at him. “Why not?” she sputtered.

“There is power in names,” he snarled. “or did the fact that no witch or wizards dares to say it, even a decade later, escape you?”

“I’m not afraid of him.” Miss Evans said, and it was strong, definitive, filled to the brim with that reprehensible (terrifying, dangerous, arrogant) Gryffindor courage.

“There are many witches and wizards out there who did not live long enough to muster together some semblance of regret.” Severus snapped. “Do not make the same mistake.”

“I’m not calling him You-Know-Who —”

“I don’t give a damn what you call him, but you will not say the name where I can hear it!”

“Fine,” Miss Evans glared mutinously at the floor. “All I know is that stupid git tried to kill me, and somehow I survived and got the scar. It never bothered me until I got to Hogwarts, either. Professor Dumbledore didn’t say much else. What does that have to do with the smoke monster?”

Severus would have thought of much more creative names, ones that would’ve made Miss Evan’s toes curl. “Your scar was given to you in an effort to kill you. Can you think of no reason why it would hurt, given recent events?”

She cocked her head at him in confusion. “I don’t understand, what does that —”

“Think, Miss Evans.” Severus leaned forward. “There are no coincidences, where it concerns the Dark Lord.”

She went very quiet. Severus had not expected her to be quiet, he’d expected her to ogle at him like he’d told her the secrets of the universe, or perhaps even start to cry again, but she didn’t. Something wasn’t… right.

“That’s what Hermione said last night.” Miss Evans whispered, almost to herself. “I didn’t want to believe it…”

Well —

He had certainly not been expecting that.

“And why, pray tell,” Severus asked in a dangerous voice, feeling his insides constricting. “Would Miss Granger have come to that conclusion?”

She looked him right in the eye, then. “Because we know Nicholas Flamel made the Stone, and that the Stone can make the Elixir of Life.”

His Shields snapped back to the shore, like a shipwrecked boat hurtling towards him —

“Before you go losing it on me,” Miss Evans said, crossing her arms tightly in front of her — as a stance of dominance, or a show of protection, Severus could not tell. “I haven’t gone looking for it. We just wanted to know what it did, since, you know, whoevers after it tried to off me with that Bludger.”

Severus could hear the jars around them beginning to rattle. “That would fall under the category of looking for it.”

“Well you weren’t going to tell me what was happening!” she countered. “We wanted to know what was going on!”

“It’s none of your business,” Severus snarled. “the more you involve yourself, the more of a threat you become to him!”

She sunk back onto the workbench, studying the woodgrain, her black eyes darting back and forth. Severus could practically see the wheels turning in her head. He wanted to rip apart that wheel, splinter by splinter, and set it ablaze.

“That’s why you came last night, isn’t it?” Miss Evans peered up at him hesitantly. “Because… it’s Vol— that stupid git — and you know he’s after me. He wants the Stone to get to me, doesn’t he?”

And just like that, the blatant, naked truth was hanging in the air between them.

He’ll never touch you

“It would appear so,” Severus said, trying to keep his voice devoid of emotion. “I’ve been assured that he cannot harm you, but it is… quite unusual that only you are able to see him in his spirit form.”

She frowned. “But the Bludger —”

“He is using someone in the school to do his bidding.”

“Oh,” her eyebrows knitted together in thought. “So… is Vol— sorry, I mean stupid git here or not?”

“He cannot enter the castle as long as Professor Dumbledore remains Headmaster. There are protection spells in place, ones not even the Dark Lord can break.” Severus’ lip curled. “He is, however, somehow astral projecting inside the school with the aid of someone who is here.”

She scratched away at the table. “How do you know he can’t hurt me?”

Because I won’t let it happen. “There are… protective magics in place.”

She sighed, like this wasn’t a sufficient answer, but was too tired to argue. “I have my detention with Malfoy on Saturday,” Miss Evans told him glumly.

Severus stared down at her, trying not to look taken off guard for the — third? fourth? — time that evening. “So I’ve heard.”

“Do you know why I hit him?”

He could imagine. Potter had said just as much to him when they’d been in school — worse, even. Anything about Lily had been enough to get Severus to give into the bait. He’s own retaliation made Miss Evans’ look tame in comparison. Poppy had been required to reattach Potter’s nose on more than one question, Severus recalled fondly.

“I don’t care to know, Miss Evans.” he said coolly. “I think we both know that settling disputes like common Muggles is inexcusable — don’t we?”

He expected that resistance from earlier to make its return, but she just averted her eyes and nodded. “I didn’t mean —”

“I know,” Severus interjected. “You need not explain further.”

“Thank you for coming last night, anyway.” she said, in a voice so soft Severus almost didn’t hear it. “Why did you come if you were mad?”

“Temporary insanity.”

She smirked up at him. Something inside of Severus’ chest felt lighter. He didn’t want to say the actual reason – that he felt some semblance of responsibility for the child, that her emotional state had jarred him.

“Do you have the Cloak with you?” Severus managed to force out.

Her eyes widened, but she nodded.

“You will carry it with you from now on,” he commanded, pointing at her rucksack. “If you see that thing, you hide, and you call me with the coin. Am I clear?”

“That’s why I put it on Christmas Day,” she grumbled.

“And you will not sneak out of bed again, or so help me —”

“I won’t, I promise.”

Severus glared at her, unconvinced.

“I really promise this time.” Miss Evans said quickly. “Cross my heart.”

and hope to die

He motioned for the door. “Good. Come — you look exhausted. I’m not keeping you here all night only to be berated by the other professors tomorrow.”

Miss Evans rolled her eyes at him. “Gee, thanks.”

Severus gave her a warning glare, but she didn’t see it as she gathered her things, rubbing at her eyes in the process.

“Oh!” she stopped suddenly, her eyes a tad brighter with the unmistakable light of remembering something one had forgotten. “I almost forgot — is Professor Quirrell alright?”

He felt his entire body tense up, the tendons in his hands strained as he froze. “Why do you ask?”

She frowned. “Ron, Neville and I saw him coming out of a classroom before. He’d been talking to someone, we think. It didn’t sound good, and when he came out, he looked really upset.”

Severus flexed his hands, feeling the blood pumping in his ears. “Is that so?”

“Some of the other students said he’d been acting weird —”

I knew it I fucking KNEW it —

“Fascinating,” he said, making it sound as though it were anything but. He could feel his molars smoking.

Miss Evans shrugged. “It was odd — I dunno, I know some students are worried.”

“Has he been strange… towards you?”

She blinked at him. “How?”

Severus took that as a no. “He’s been in poor health as of late. Don’t concern yourself with it.”

“Alright,” her lips pressed together in thought. After a minute, she looked up at him, her face thoughtful. “No one came out after him, though.”

——

Ariel left her detention with Snape feeling… strangely lighter. It wasn’t the good kind, the sort that made you remember what a normal breath of air felt like, or when the pain in your heart dissipated. It was the kind that made you feel like you were in a dream, like your head was properly attached to your shoulders again.

She thought about what he’d said about Voldemort and the Stone, and then, about what Hermione had told her last night — about Snape being evil.

Maybe Hermione didn’t understand because she had two loving parents — or at least, Ariel assumed she did. She knew they were Muggles who were dentists, and that they didn’t really seem to understand much of what Hermione was learning at Hogwarts. She’d had Ariel proofread all her letters to her parents (they’d been long, and Hedwig had not been happy with the weight), and the responses had always been… enthusiastic, but it was clear that they had no idea what Hermione was talking about, all the spells and potions and things they learned.

It was the same sort of feeling, Ariel supposed. That feeling of being disconnected, or not knowing how to bridge a gap you hadn’t realized was there. Only Snape was more like a violent black hole — everyone thought he was a git, Hermione thinking so too shouldn’t have surprised her.

Snape telling her about Voldemort was sorta the same thing… he wouldn’t have told her if he wanted her dead. He wouldn’t have come to the alcove either. Snape wasn’t evil — he was probably one of the scariest people she’d ever met, but he’d been scared of Voldemort’s stupid name. She wondered what Voldemort was really like, if the scariest, strongest person she knew couldn’t handle hearing about him.

Maybe it was because of Mum, because of what Voldemort had done…

But if they didn’t know who was working for him, what were they going to do? And why had Snape been so… weird about what she’d seen Quirrell do this morning?

Ariel didn’t have any answers as she climbed the stairs to her dormitory, but she knew how to fix at least one of her problems. She reckoned it was the most important of them all, right now.

Hermione’s light was off, but Lavender and Pavarti were still awake, giggling behind their curtains. Lavender had some Charmed stars above her bed, and they glowed all different colors, casting long shadows along the center of the room. Ariel’s bed looked more inviting than ever, especially after the day she’d had, but there was something she had to do first.

She climbed over to Hermione’s bed, and laid down beside her. Hermione turned, her amber eyes wide in the dark, quickly filling with tears. Ariel wondered if she’d been crying already.

“I’m sorry —” Hermione began, but Ariel shook her head.

“I was upset because you were… sorta right,” Ariel said quietly, looking over at Lavender’s bed. The giggling had stopped, but she could hear loud, hushed whispers that could only mean they were reading one of those trashy tabloids again. “He’s not evil, but he’s not… nice. And he’s got secrets, and he’s horrible, but he’s all I got. I’ve got to try, you know?”

Hermione was silent for a long time. After what seemed like the world’s longest pause, she sat up and gave Ariel another one of those stares, the one where Hermione was suddenly much older, and knew something only time could ever tell.

“Please just be safe.” was all she said. Ariel wanted to ask what she meant by that, she was once again met with that indescribable feeling of standing over a cliff’s edge, or at the top of a mountain, and looking straight down.

Ariel gave a jerky nod, and stared at the ceiling for a long moment. “Do you know what Lavender and Pavarti said last night?” Ariel asked.

Hermione sniffled. “Nothing good, I’m guessing?”

“They said,” Ariel felt a giggle slip past her lips, feeling it replacing the stiff coldness around her heart. “They said Malfoy eggs on me because he fancies me.”

Hermione looked at her like she’d grown a second head for a minute, which only made Ariel laugh harder. She sat up, giggling like mad for the first time in weeks, while a smile spread across Hermione’s, who was soon clutching at her stomach as they both gasped for air.

Voldemort or not, he could never take away this feeling — she wasn’t going to let him take anything away ever again.

And that was a promise.

———

To be continued...
End Notes:

A/N: Hi everyone! After the most stressful first year of teaching EVER, I have the summer off, which is definitely something I can identify with in terms of Snape’s thoughts on teaching. I will be attempting to stick to a writing schedule for July & August, where I post a new chapter on Saturday mornings. I’d like to have Philosopher’s Stone done within the next four chapters, and then start Chamber of Secrets before the school year begins again.

If you could leave a review, it would mean a lot. Until the next time! xx

Chapter 18: the kids aren't alright by shostakobitch

The night of Ariel’s detention, she could feel that something was… off.

She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment she felt it happen, but suddenly, she was hyper-aware of a shift, of a change in the air, of the crackle of magic turning to a muted hiss in her ears. Somewhere, in the castle, Ariel supposed, something had happened, but she didn’t know how she knew that. It was intuition, she supposed, but she felt very silly the more she pondered it, thought about it, wondering if anyone else had felt it too. It had only been a split second, after all.

In light of this, Ariel tried her very best to ignore it, most of her time spent worrying about Voldemort popping up in the middle of class and murdering her. She couldn’t shake the coldness that had spread throughout her body when Snape had told her, and even though she knew he’d done it to spook her into staying away from the Stone, she also knew that Snape wasn’t a liar. He liked to omit things, or avoid them altogether, but he didn’t lie. He oftentimes said Ariel was a terrible liar — she wondered if she got that from him. Maybe Snape didn’t lie because he was horrible at it, like her.

Hermione and Ron had elected to continue their research on the Stone without Ariel so that Voldemort and Snape wouldn’t kill her, but she’d insisted that they all stop for now, until things quieted down. Between the Giant Smoke Monster That Was Really Voldemort, and everyone ignoring Ariel and Ron (and now Hermione, too), there wasn’t really much else to be done.

“What if we went to Professor Dumbledore?” Hermione tried late one night, the three of them huddled around the fire, roasting marshmallows. Fred and George had been generous enough to steal some from the kitchens for them, in solidarity in the sacredness of Mischief Making (in front of everyone else, however, they were telling people that Ron was adopted).

“What’s he going to do?” Ariel sighed, twisting her stick nervously. “Snape’s probably told him everything already, and it’s not like they can see the Smoke Monster. So, what else can be done?”

“We can tell him how worried we are —”

“No,” she said firmly. “what if whoever’s working for Voldemort finds out?”

“But Professor Snape said —”

“He said to stay away, Hermione.” Ron made a face, his marshmallow soot black. “I’m with Ariel on this one, we can’t risk messing around with it anymore… not for a while, anyway.”

“Maybe once your detention is over,” Hermione offered, her brow furrowed in thought. “Maybe once it’s over… maybe everything will start going back to normal.”

Ariel didn’t think that wasn’t very likely, but she didn’t voice it. “Maybe.”

“I mean,” Ron stuck another marshmallow on his stick, abandoning the burnt one. “You-Know-Who’s not taking a break, is he? We’ve got to figure out who’s helping him before he figures out how to get to the Stone eventually.”

She felt frustrated by this. They couldn’t keep looking for the Stone because it would put them in more danger, but they also couldn’t let Voldemort just take it without at least trying to stop him. The thought stuck to the front of her mind, like glue. No matter how hard Ariel tried to pry it off, tried to think about something else, she couldn’t.

Hermione must’ve seen the worried look on Ariel’s face, because she scooted closer, blowing on her marshmallow before taking a bite. “Well, the professors seem to think the Stone is safe. They wouldn’t let us be here if it weren’t, right? They wouldn’t let you be here if they thought there was a chance You-Know-Who could hurt you.”

Ariel thought of Snape’s face, biting in the shadows of the dungeons.

I am here for one reason only, and that is to make sure that you stay alive

Voldemort already has hurt me, she thought to herself. He’s told me to hurt other people and I listened —

She suppressed a shudder and nodded. “Let’s get through this stupid detention with Malfoy, and then we’ll talk about it. For now, I’m just trying to make sure we don’t lose any more points.”

Ariel had asked Snape, several times, in fact, if he would be overseeing the detention, but he hadn’t responded to that question. He’d ignored her, like he usually did, but she could see his eyes sharpen, his lips curl back in a sneer. Their fake-detentions had ended a while ago, but Ariel still went down every night, and Snape hadn’t commented or even pointed out that they would have to come up with a new reason for her being there. None of the other students bothered with her anymore after she’d lost them the House Cup, and Professor McGonagall hadn’t said a word to her. Ariel had asked Hermione what she’d heard her saying to Snape about the detentions, but Hermione had gone very quiet and told her she hadn’t heard much, only the tail end.

Ariel got the feeling there was something else Hermione wasn’t telling her, but she didn’t press it. They hadn’t talked about Snape since Hermione had told her what she really felt, and Ariel didn’t feel comfortable talking about her Snape-father-problems anymore, not when there were more serious things happening. She was trying very hard to get rid of the feeling, to peel it off her consciousness and let herself feel normal talking to Hermione about whatever, but she just couldn’t.

Ron and Ariel made their way down at ten to eleven, not wanting to be late and incurring Professor McGonagall’s wrath for a second time. She was surprised, however, to find that Filch was there, a torch in his hand, causing the bony lines of his face to dance in the dim light. Malfoy and Goyle were already there too, looking extremely put-off. When they caught sight of them, Malfoy’s face darkened even more. He hadn’t so much as looked in her direction since she’d pummeled him, but she supposed that tonight, he would try and get his revenge if he could. What was the detention, though? Filch being here wasn’t exactly a promising sign.

Before anyone — even Filch — could say anything, a shape peeled itself out of the shadows. Ariel almost jumped out of her skin, grabbing Ron’s hand, ready to pull him away, but she immediately felt a wave of relief crash over her when she saw a familiar pair of black, bottomless eyes.

“Hullo,” she said, without thinking. Ron looked at her with owl-eyes, while Malfoy sneered, jabbing Goyle in the side, as if to say, “get a load of this.”

Snape ignored her, as usual, sending a sharp look to Filch. “You will relay my message to Hagrid, won’t you?”

Filch spat on the ground, but gave a jerky, reluctant nod. He glared down at the four of them, like they’d somehow gotten him in trouble. Ariel’s heart gave a delighted jolt of joy. If they were with Hagrid, it couldn’t be so bad, could it?

Snape’s eyes narrowed down on them next. “You stay within Hagrid’s sights at all times — am I understood?”

Ariel noticed that he didn’t look at her when he said that, but she could help but feel like it was mostly aimed at her. Snape had a way of doing that — of saying things that were so obscure, that somehow, it made their intentions even more clear. She’d learned that, after spending practically every night with him for the past few months. Snape didn’t talk like a normal person — he talked like a monk you met at the top of a sacred mountain, who also hated your guts.

“What’re we doing, sir?” Malfoy asked Snape in a pleasant voice, but Ariel could’ve sworn she heard his voice quiver, just a bit.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Snape said coldly. He looked especially bat-like tonight, his cloak making him look much larger than he actually was. Sometimes, Ariel wondered if he really was part-vampire, but she’d seen him sort-of eat food in the Great Hall, which meant he didn’t drink blood. He ate food like he wanted to punch it in the face, though.

Ron shot Ariel a look of relief, and she felt her chest release the tension that had built up during the walk down. Filch caught sight of them and gave a nasty smirk. “I suppose you think you’ll be enjoying yourselves. Think again, little girl —”

“Enough,” Snape interjected sharply, and Filch gave him a terrible look. “you’re already late.”

Her heart began to beat to a new rhythm of panic, one that she didn’t know was there until Filch jerked his head at them, motioning for the four of them to follow. Snape, however, stayed perfectly still, his eyes locked at the entrance, where the wind knocked the entrance doors against the walls, blowing in snow that coated the floor like dust. What if the Giant Smoke Monster was out there? Filch was a Squib, and Hagrid — wasn’t allowed? couldn’t? — practice magic. What if someone got hurt because of her, what if the Giant Smoke Monster made her do something and she couldn’t fight back —

Ariel stayed behind for a moment, letting the others fall a few paces ahead before looking up at Snape. “Are you coming?”

He stared straight down his hooked nose on her. “And why would I do that, Miss Evans?”

She frowned at him, tugging her rucksack tightly to her chest. “What if something happens?” she whispered. “Where is Mr Filch taking us? What’re we doing with Hagrid?”

“Nothing is going to happen,” Snape said, like this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Ariel quickly ran this through her Snape Folder, trying to decode his weird not-really-English-but-it-sure-sounded-like-it speech. “Does that mean you are coming?”

He let out a very put-off sigh. “Why would I volunteer to spend more time mediating your little feud?”

She tried not to feel stung by the comment. “Because you promised.”

His eyes flashed, that pinprick of not-fear glowing from the bottom of his black eyes. It was the same look he’d given her before, outside of the Dursley’s house, the night she’d told him about the Giant Smoke Monster, and in the alcove. It made her entire nervous system feel like it was going haywire, like when Dudley got impatient with one of his video games and made the computer crash.

Ariel swallowed loudly. “Alright. I — I trust you.”

His hand curled around her shoulder, like a question mark. She could feel his nails digging into the muscle between the bones in her shoulder as his eyes burned into hers, an almost cruel glint to them.

“Do you have the coin?” he asked, his voice deeper than usual. Or at least, it sounded that way — the pain in her arm was making her feel lightheaded. “And the Cloak?”

Ariel nodded, hugging her rucksack tightly to her chest. She’d put her Defense textbook in there too, just so it wouldn’t look too suspicious, along with her wand. Her Mum’s letter was tucked into the book as well. She didn’t trust keeping it in her room, and something inside her felt like it might die at the thought of losing it somehow.

“Try not to do anything innately moronic,” Snape let go of her, and she felt a rush of heat — the blood returning to her shoulder. “and you’ll be fine.”

She wanted to tell him how she felt, how she had this weird, not-really-a-feeling that something wasn’t right, but she didn’t want to sound stupid. Snape hated it when she couldn’t explain herself.

She swallowed roughly again, giving him one last glance before following Ron, who’d waited for her at the door. Malfoy and Goyle were only a few paces ahead, trailing behind Filch like they were being set on a death march. Ariel nearly rolled her eyes at them — Slytherins were awfully dramatic.

“What was that about?” Ron whispered, ducking his head close to hers.

“I thought he might be coming.”

Ron looked horrified. “Is he?”

“No, don’t worry.” Ariel reassured him, quickening their pace so that they caught up to the rest of the group — she didn’t want to get left behind out here, in the dark. “He wouldn’t tell me what we’re doing, though.”

“Well, it was nice knowing you,” Ron gave a sideways glare to Malfoy and Goyle. “Not you two.”

Ariel let out a deep sigh, one she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. “It can’t be too bad if it’s with Hagrid.”

“That stupid oaf can barely walk straight,” Malfoy spat out, but Ariel saw a flash of panic pass across his face. “He’s not fit to oversee a detention.”

“Says who?” Ariel shot back defensively. “He wouldn’t be Gamekeeper if Professor Dumbledore didn’t trust him — he’s got loads of responsibilities!”

“Oh yeah, like we can trust the Gryffindor-loving old coot —”

“How’s your nose, then?” Ariel snapped. “It’s looking a little crooked, up close.”

Malfoy gave her a murderous glare — she’d never seen him so angry before. “Shut up, Red Cap. It’s your fault we’re here, anyway.”

“The only reason she punched you is because you wouldn’t close your big fat mouth.” Ron said coolly.

“Shut it,” Filch barked at them. “You lot ought to be thinking twice about breaking school rules, eh? It’s a pity they let the old punishments die out — hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I’ve got the chains still in my office.”

Ron went a bit white at that, Ariel’s stomach giving an uncomfortable squirm. Hadn’t Fred and George mentioned chains in Filch’s office before? Hagrid wouldn’t make them wear chains — Hagrid would probably make them eat a whole rock cake as a punishment, though. Good thing she hadn’t been able to eat much at dinner…

The night sky was blank, clouds covering the stars as they made their way across the grounds in silence. Filch’s torch seemed to be the only source of light tonight, though Ariel could just barely make out the dim glow of Hagrid’s hut in the distance. She shivered, her teeth rattling as she wrapped her cloak more tightly around her and cast a quick Warming Charm on both her and Ron. Goyle lifted his wand to do the same, but Malfoy gave one look at his raised wand and said, “You point that thing away from me, I can do it myself.”

After several minutes of tense, cold silence, Ariel saw a familiar shape coming towards them, one that instantly made her feel ten million times better.

“Is that you, Filch?” Hagrid’s voice shouted, slicing through the cold, night air, warming it like a comet. “Hurry up, I want ter get started!”

———

Severus was trying — he was trying very hard to maintain the illusion that he was allowing Miss Evans to walk into the Forbidden Forest unsupervised.

He had fought Minerva tooth and nail to get the brats for the detention, but she’d remained vehement that she would oversee it and assign a just punishment, using that fact that Severus had been in charge of Miss Evans’ punishments all year, and that the girl was in her House, after all. Severus had even gone so far as to involve Dumbledore, but he’d meekly offered that Minerva had already gotten to him, and that Minerva was growing… concerned.

It shouldn’t have surprised him that someone would grow suspicious eventually — luckily, he had the buffer of Dumbledore to deal with that. He didn’t give a fuck what the staff thought about him, but he could certainly see it becoming a problem if they thought he was assigning detentions for more… nefarious reasons — and that was without Minerva knowing he’d been following the girl, making sure that she wasn’t going anywhere she wasn’t supposed to.

Disillusioning himself and following the brats sounded about as insane as it would have looked, had they been able to see him, but he wasn’t going to allow Miss Evans to go into the Forbidden Forest — virtually alone, since Hagrid was about as useful as a wet tissue — when there was a homicidal maniac trying to infiltrate the school.

Filch, in the meantime, was continuing to be a fucking useless piece of shit, looking straight at Miss Evans, who had smiled at the sound of Hagrid. “Think again, lass, it’s into the forest you’re going and I’m much mistaken if you’ll all come out in one piece.”

Severus was going to rip out his tongue, if he kept talking. He’d slice it right off in front of the children, and he wouldn’t feel an ounce of regret about it —

“The forest?” Draco bleated. “We can’t go in there at night, there’s all sorts of things in there — werewolves, I heard.”

Severus rolled his eyes — so did Miss Evans, who then shared a look of great suffering with Weasley-twerp. He noticed that the boy made sure she stayed in front of him while they walked.

“Alright there Ellie, Ron?” Hagrid greeted them, while ignoring Draco, who was sending Goyle outrageous looks of alarm.

“I wouldn’t be too friendly with them, Hagrid.” Filch said, twisting his nose in disgust. “They’re here to be punished, after all.”

“That’s why yer late, is it?” Hagrid frowned, shuffling his crossbow to his other shoulder. “Bin lecturin’ them, eh? ‘Snot your place ter do that. Yeh’ve done yer bit, I’ll take over from here.”

Severus made a mental note to gut Filch’s cat as he walked away without delivering his message, glaring nastily over his shoulder as the lantern swung back and forth, the light glinting off the children’s wide eyes. Miss Evans didn’t look nearly as frightened as Severus would have thought one might be — Draco, on the other hand, seemed seconds away from passing out. He should grab the girl, get her out of here —

you promised

I trust you

something’s there something won’t leave alone

Severus bit back a snarl, scrubbing the thought from his mind. He had to be objective about this — he’d let his emotions take the lead in the past, and it was clouding his judgement. Maybe the years of doing nothing but mindless instruction and grading had made him go soft, but the more he interacted with the brat, the more stressed he found himself when not forced to be in her presence. Severus tried to tell himself that having a homicidal maniac stalking Lily’s (yours yours yours) child would be enough to make anyone a paranoid mess, but the line between duty and something Dumbledorian was becoming blurred.

He’d keep an eye on the girl, and make sure she made it back to her tower without incident. And there would not be any incidents, because if there were, Severus was going to lose his fucking mind.

Draco, on the other hand, was beginning to unravel as well. “I’m not going into that forest.”

Hagrid’s eyes narrowed. “Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts. Yeh’ve done wrong an’ now yeh’ve got ter pay fer it.”

“She,” Draco pointed a finger at Miss Evans, who looked like she wanted to bite it off. “attacked me. Why should Goyle and I have to go in there — we should stay here and be lookout, while they do whatever —”

“Oh, shut up Malfoy!” Weasley-twerp interrupted. “If you don’t stop yapping, whatever you’re so scared of is going to come out of the forest and shut you up itself.”

They began to bicker, and Miss Evans sent Hagrid a sympathetic look. He looked taken off guard, like he’d never seen two people argue in front of him before. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, the row growing in volume and intensity as Weasley-twerp’s language took a more colorful turn. Hagrid put down the cross bow, holding up he hands, is if that was going to do any fucking good, when Miss Evans finally decided to do something about it.

“So, what’re we doing in the forest, Hagrid?” Miss Evans said in a loud voice, one that miraculously found its way over the insults.

The boys quieted down, looking up warily at the useless dolt. Hagrid shifted uncomfortably, and then cleared his throat. “Right then,” he said gruffly. “Now, listen carefully, ‘cause it’s dangerous what we’re gonna do tonight. Follow me over here a moment.”

Severus felt his tendons strain against his skin. Minerva had promised they wouldn’t be going far in, but she’d also said it was up to Hagrid, and the neanderthal didn’t exactly have stellar judgement when it came to assigning just punishments for children. The word dangerous began panging inside of Severus’ skull, the sea of Occlumency’s wave turning rough and rocky.

It became a full-blown squall when Hagrid told them what they’d be doing, and that they would be splitting up.

eye-ball melting skin flaying mind-bending blood curdling —

He was going to make what he’d been doing to Quirrell look like child’s play, he was going to strip the school down to its foundations and scatter the ashes, he was —

Miss Evans’ voice interrupted his mania. “What could be killing unicorns?”

“Nothin’ that would mess with me or Fang here,” Hagrid assured her, and Severus felt his brain splitting apart. “There’s blood all over the place, so whatever’s been killin’ ‘em is long gone. As long as yeh stick ter the path, yeh be fine.”

“And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?” Draco asked in a very forced voice. Lucius would have given him a couple of whacks for showing an ounce of fear.

“Weren’t you listening?” Weasley-twerp said before Hagrid could answer. “Whatever’s out there just killed one — we’re just looking for the unicorn.”

“I bet your family could use a unicorn,” Draco snarled. “Your parents could pay for all the kids they can’t afford.”

Hagrid took one look between Weasley-twerp and Draco, and looked to Miss Evans, motioning to Draco with his head. “Ellie, you go with this idiot —”

“HEY —”

“— we don’t have all night, and we’ve got ter find the poor feller, put him out of his misery, if we have to.”

“What?” Miss Evans squeaked, at the same time Draco let out a groan of disgust. “I want Fang, then.” Draco said quickly. “If you’re going to make me go with Red Cap, I want the mutt!”

“Alright, but I warn yeh, he’s a coward.” Hagrid adjusted his crossbow, before muttering: “The two of yeh will be useless together.”

Severus seethed, feeling his molars smoke as he struggled to contain his rage. The girl was within arm’s reach, but he couldn’t grab her without raising uncomfortable questions. The vise of his skull was becoming dangerously tense as he imagined all the ways he would rip apart Dumbledore for allowing this — the man thought things like this built character, that they created strong witches and wizards who would draw upon these experiences, but the girl —

GRYFFINDORS, he wanted to scream.

Hagrid started off with Weasley-twerp and Mr Goyle, leaving the girl with Draco and the equally useless mutt.

Miss Evans looked at Draco, who was staring warily into the tree line.

“C’mon,” she muttered. “Let's bloody get this over with.”

“Yes, princess.” Draco said under his breath.

Miss Evans whirled around. “I am not a princess!”

Draco smirked. “Well, you’re sort of right, you certainly don’t look like one.”

“Shut up,” she growled. “I’ve never met someone so obnoxious in my whole entire life.”

“Really? You’ve met Weasley, haven’t you?”

“Ron is worth ten-thousand of you —”

Severus couldn’t take much more of the bickering. It was beginning to sound like a dull buzz in the back of his brain, so that when Miss Evans finally flounced away, Malfoy trailing behind her with an arrogant smirk, he could still hear it bouncing around the inside of his skull. For a moment, he was reminded of Lily and Potter’s arguments, only Lily would have Hexed Draco by now. Severus could tell the girl was exerting a great deal of effort not to do anything she’d end up regretting, but the boy was testing her limits. The boy clearly had more brain damage than Poppy had originally diagnosed.

Draco shoved past Miss Evans, tearing Severus from his inner musings. The girl, in the meantime, had picked up a stick, throwing her arm back as she aimed at the back of his head. Severus stifled the urge to bury his face in his hands — the girl had a wand andwas once again choosing Muggle tactics to inflict on the Pureblood Slytherin, who hadn’t known a shred of discomfort up until her fist had collided with his face.

Luckily, after a moment, Miss Evans grimaced and dropped the stick. She seemed to steady herself with a deep breath, wrinkling her nose in determination. Severus felt something inside his chest burn, a distant memory he couldn’t recall trying to reach the surface.

“So,” she trailed after him, readjusting her rucksack. “Are there really werewolves in these woods?”

Severus sighed heavily. The things the girl decided to worry about were mind-boggling, but most children were. He supposed his own wouldn’t be any different.

“How would I know?” Draco kicked at a rock. “I don’t have a death wish, so I’ve never been here before.”

“I’m asking because you mentioned them before, genius.”

“I’m sure there’s loads of monsters that would love to kill us in here!” Draco scowled. “It takes half a brain to figure that one out.”

“Fine, be that way.” Miss Evans snapped. “I was just wondering, since I don’t really know what could be killing unicorns.”

Draco hesitated a moment. “I don’t know anything that hunts them. They’re not supposed to be killed.”

“Oh, now you’re a zoologist?”

“A what?”

“Never mind,” she shook her head in exasperation. “I wish Hagrid would’ve given us some tips.”

Severus watched them both warily, keeping enough of a distance that they wouldn’t sense him. A suspicion was growing inside of him, the foundations of it strong and particularly baffling as Miss Evans and Draco walked in tense, uneasy silence. Draco craved attention — he hadn’t much interaction with other children his age growing up, which had left him with the gaping hole of constantly needing attention, and not knowing how to share it. Potter had been similar, Severus recalled with a rush of loathing so strong it churned his stomach. That need for attention, though, had a target in both cases. Potter’s had been Lily, and Draco’s was —

He ground his teeth and threw the thought far away from him. It would explain Draco’s bizarre, almost desperate behavior, but the little beasts were eleven, for Merlin’s sake. That would give Severus plenty of time to squash any sort of crush, even if Draco didn’t realize that’s what it was. A crush on Miss Evans would put her in more danger, down the line. Narcissa would not take well to that at all — she knew the risks of associating with Miss Evans, and what that would do to her son. They both had their own children’s safety to look out for, now.

It was with that jarring thought in mind when Miss Evans decided to exercise one of her more Gryffindor talents and be astonishingly blunt.

“Why do you hate me so much, anyway?” she stopped, putting herself between Draco and the path. “Huh? What’d I ever do to you?”

His lip curled. “You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack,” she said evenly.

“A what?”

“Stop playing stupid!” she threw her hands up in exasperation. “You know why I punched you, right? It’s because of — this.”

Severus watched intently as the boy exhaled through his nose. He almost felt sorry for him, being the focus of Miss Evans’ interrogation. She would get something out of him — she was quite good at it, though Severus had a feeling she had no idea of the effect she had. For a moment, he wondered if that was something she’d inherited from him or Lily, but quickly scrubbed the thought away, letting it float out to Occlumency sea, like flotsam.

“You just deserve it,” Draco sneered. “there doesn’t have to be a reason, Red Cap.”

He stormed past her, the mutt jumping out of the way in surprise. Miss Evans gave him a comforting scratch behind the ears, her eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“You started it, you know.” she called. “On the train — you made fun of Hermione for being Muggleborn.”

“Don’t we have a unicorn to find?” Draco threw over his shoulder. “You’re squawking is probably scaring it away, if it can still walk, that is…”

“That’s what this is, isn’t it?” a look of realization was creeping across her face, like a sunrise.

Draco twisted on his heel. “You know you snubbed me for those worthless, Muggle-loving pests —”

Severus began keeping a tally for every time Draco threw an insult. He’d file them away, for later, for when he needed to teach the boy a lesson. Lucius certainly hadn’t thought of his son’s survival, if Draco was spewing Pureblood nonsense this freely.

He would learn — the hard way.

“You were ghastly to Hermione!” Miss Evans fumed. “What did you expect me to do?”

“You could’ve —” Draco froze, then, staring at something behind Miss Evans. He raised his hand and pointed to a spot behind her, where something shimmered in the dark. “Look!”

She whirled around, the freckles around her nose disappearing as she paled, but she quickly turned around in confusion. “What is that stuff?”

“Unicorn blood, idiot.”

They’d walked past a lot of it already — the little nitwits had been too busy taking shots at one another to notice. Severus had been paying close attention to the tree line, making sure they didn’t stray off the dirt path. The dog was doing a good enough job of leading the way, but Severus felt his skin prickle every time Miss Evans fell behind when Draco decided to storm off.

“Oh,” she grimaced. “Why's it silver?”

“Because it’s a unicorn.” Draco drawled.

Something changed in her face — the lines in her cheekbones sharpened, her (his) black eyes narrowed in suspicion. It was such an un-Lily-like expression that for a moment, Severus almost didn’t recognize her.

They walked in silence for a long while then, to Severus’ great relief. He watched the girl carefully, noting that she did not look in front of her as she walked, but at her feet. At first, Severus thought she might have been watching her steps to make sure she didn’t trip, but the lantern Draco held was bright enough that it showed any sort of blockage or hole in the path, and they weresupposed to be keeping an eye out for unicorn blood. She was deep in thought — he realized this when her head snapped up, like she’d come out of a trance.

“I don’t see any dead unicorns,” Miss Evans sighed as they came to a fork in the road. “Do you?”

“No,” Draco kicked at the dirt. “Just wait until my father hears about this — what they made me do.”

Lucius would surely complain — he was quite good at that. Dumbledore had written down several complaints from Lucius over the years, actually. Having Fudge’s ear had leant Lucius the opportunity to give several critiques and suggestions on how to better run Hogwarts, long before Draco had arrived. Dumbledore always thanked him generously, but would later read them aloud to Severus, who found them to be mildly amusing. The lack of self-awareness was staggering, but money and power afforded that privilege, Severus supposed. He almost resented it. He had once been envious of it.

Something let out an ungodly sound — something that caused the mutt’s ears to flatten and the children to stop in their tracks. Severus stood behind Miss Evans, his wand drawn, and scanned the darkened foliage with scathing precision. He’d never heard that sound in these woods before — it made his blood run cold.

The sound came again, and this time, Draco leapt back, pulling on Miss Evans’ cloak.

“Get off of me —” Miss Evans shoved him away, but Draco clung on.

The lantern swung wildly, and before Severus could react, could register the ledge, Draco’s foot had slipped, and they were falling backwards — motherfucking shit —

He reached for them, but it was too late, they’d gone over the edge. Severus un-Disillusioned himself and charged forward, listening for their landing before setting off in their direction. He was going to strangle the two of them when he got his hands on them for not paying attention, for taking cheap shots when they should have been paying closer fucking attention, because something like this was bound to have happened —

(I trust you, she’d said)

“Goddammit,” he seethed. “pull yourself together, dammit —”

And then Severus heard Draco begin to scream.

————

The fall over the ledge didn’t register until Ariel’s shoulder hit the ground again. They tumbled over heads and limbs, through leaves and snow and dirt until they finally stopped in a small clearing. Somewhere above them, Fang began to bark wildly, whining and woofing, like he was upset that they’d left him all alone.

Ariel sat up, patting her body for her rucksack. Her shoulders sagged in relief when she realized it was still there, and not lying lost on the forest floor, somewhere above them. Malfoy, on the other hand, lifted his hand warily, like he was waking from a bad dream.

“Nice going, numpty.” Ariel muttered. “Good thing you’re not in Gryffindor.”

His head snapped to attention instantly. “Where are we?”

“Not on the path,” she offered, rather unhelpfully. Malfoy sneered at her as she stood, brushing the dirt off her arms and looking at her hands. Luckily, the lantern had come with them, and its soft glow washed over their faces. Everything behind them was shrouded in darkness.

She reached out a hand to Malfoy, but he recoiled, like she’d offered him a flobberworm. For a second, she thought it was the thought of willingly touching her, but when she followed his gaze, she found that he was looking at her, but at something behind her. Ariel skittered back when she heard something give a labored breath, but she quickly found that she had nothing to be afraid of — it was the unicorn, only it didn’t look like it should have.

She felt both pained and horrified, seeing such a beautiful creature laying there like that. She wondered if the fall had managed its legs like that — no, it couldn’t have, it looked so unnatural —

It gave a pained whinny, and it went straight through her heart like an arrow. She was suddenly reminded of the doe made of starlight, and couldn’t believe she’d forgotten about it, forgotten about the feeling that had warmed her from the inside out. The unicorn gave her a similar feeling, and Ariel reached her hand towards it, needing to give it some kind of comfort.

“We — we have to call Hagrid,” she swallowed the lump in her throat. “She’s hurt, but maybe he can save her.”

“Doubt it,” Malfoy said, but she saw his blue eyes flash, like the thought he was really thinking wanted to make itself known. She wondered if that was a Slytherin thing — not wanting to show your true feelings, but having them do it anyway, as if they had a mind of their own.

“Send up the sparks, will you?” she sighed. The unicorn gave another painful sound, this one mournful and low. Ariel bit her lip to keep from crying. She patted its dirty mane, trying to offer some sort of comfort while feeling useless. Hagrid would know what to do — he’d be able to help her.

After a minute or so, Ariel realized that Malfoy hadn’t sent up the sparks, or so much as made a sound. She was about to snap at him, ask him what he was waiting for, when the sound of leaves rustling, of sticks snapping and branches breaking caught her ear.

“Evans —” Malfoy croaked, a trembling finger lifting itself to point at the bushes in front of her.

Ariel knew what it was before she saw it. She could see the darkness bleeding out of the bushes, coating the forest floor like a floodgate opening up.

Her head exploded in pain, like her scar had erupted off the side of her head.

She turned, about to tell Malfoy to run, but it looks like he already had. She could hear the sound of someone tearing through the trees, screaming, but before Ariel could get to her feet and run, she saw a figure slithering out of the shadows. She scrambled backwards on her hands, and the feeling of scissors in her teeth and chaos in her bones was there, shaking the forest floor underneath her. The Thing was hooded, not a mass of smoke and magic and terror anymore. Silver liquid dripped from where Ariel assumed a mouth would be — unicorn blood.

“Tell me,” The Thing hissed at her. “Tell me what it said!”

Ariel’s heart gripped at her throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

have some fire have some fire have some fire

“The letter,” The Thing shrieked, and Ariel choked on her breath. “Tell me what it said!”

haVE SOME FIRE HAVE SOME FIRE —

Her hands had gone numb, but she grappled for her wand, and then, the coin, but they were buried in her rucksack —

The Thing came closer, reaching a bony hand towards her, its fingers gnarled and sharp. Ariel scooted away frantically, a scream clogging her throat, but she couldn’t force it out, the pain was —

She didn’t know what else to do, so she kicked it in the face as hard as she could.

It let out a sound like metal hitting metal, and if she’d been able to move them, she would’ve covered her ears with her hands. The sound went straight through her until it was the only thought in her brain. She screamed right back at it, hoping it would crawl away — she couldn’t see anymore, the pain in her head and her bones too much —

All of a sudden, there was a flash of light, and then a clap of something that shook the air like thunder, only Ariel could feel it in the air crackling. She dug her fingers into the ground, into the dirt, and she could feel it there, too. She curled her arms over her head, not wanting to look, not wanting to see —

Someone was grabbing her hands, pulling them away from her face. She yelled and yelled until she felt a pair of hands — human hands — and forced herself to open her eyes. Snape was there, beside her, pulling her upright. He was asking her things, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying — it sounded like he was underwater, far, far, below her.

“How —” she tried to say, gob smacked. “How the —”

He was saying something, shaking her shoulders, lifting her arms — she realized he was seeing if she was hurt. She still couldn’t hear him, though, the thought more alarming as the seconds dragged by, until there was a sound like air being sucked through a vacuum, and suddenly, all she could hear was Snape, and the noises of the forest trying to drown him out. There were questions, but she could barely register them between all of the swearing — some of them were words Ariel had never heard before, but she supposed they must be swears, because they didn’t fit into the not-swear-words he was throwing at her.

“You saw it?” Ariel pulled at his cloak. “You saw it too, right?”

it wanted the letter

Snape stared at her, his face inches from hers. His hands gripped at her cheek — she could feel his thumb grazing it, wiping something silvery away — unicorn blood.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, and the way he said it told her that this was not the first time he’d asked, and that her lack of an answer was making him angry.

She touched her scar and winced. “N-no, but my scar…”

it wanted the letter

Snape hauled her up. His teeth were bared, his face white — a stark contrast against the darkness that had almost touched her. It had never looked like that before; it had never had a body.

“What was that?” Ariel asked him, tugging on his sleeve. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and she wondered if Snape could hear it.

“I don’t know —”

it knows about the letter

“But it was —”

“I said I don’t fucking know,” there was a wild look in his face, something both primal and ethereal, like Ariel was staring at something her brain couldn’t comprehend.

“It’s killing the unicorns,” Ariel whispered, pointing to the one behind her — its eyes were closed, and the warm feeling had gone from her entirely, which meant it was dead.

it knows about the letter

Snape let out a long hiss, like a snake. His hand gripped her shoulder painfully tight, and Ariel huddled closer to him, afraid that if he let go, it would come back.

“The unicorn —”

“I don’t give a shit about the unicorn,” he snapped. “We’re getting you out of here, or so help me, I will have you in detention until you graduate.”

it wanted the letter it knows about the letter

Ariel touched her scar, and then drew her hand away. There was no blood — she was shocked, she was sure there would be. She could feel it pulsing on her forehead, like it had its own heartbeat.

“What is it?” Snape asked sharply.

why does it want the letter how does it know

She told him.

—————

To be continued...
End Notes:

A/N: Hagrid calls Ariel “Ellie” because most of the time in canon, he calls Harry “‘Arry,” and calling Ariel “‘El’ made the writing look like a hot mess. It also didn’t sound right at all, so I took some creative liberty. It’s also a little tribute to The Last of Us; Ellie was part of the inspiration for Ariel, and as many fans of the game do, I fell in love with the relationship between her and Joel, which was another huge factor in creating this AU. Just a fun Easter Egg I thought I’d point out. (RIP Joel, they did you dirty, buddy).

That being said, I hope you enjoyed the chapter (sorry for the week-skip, life continues to be demanding even when it’s not supposed to be).

There will be three more chapters of Philosopher’s Stone.

If you could leave a review, I would super appreciate it :)

Chapter 19: one last breath by shostakobitch
Author's Notes:

A/N: This chapter is shorter than usual, for soon-to-be obvious reasons.

“Apathy’s a tragedy” is a line from the brilliant Bo Burnham.

———

Dumbledore was not there when Severus arrived in his office, the girl beside him.

This was almost as unusual as the old man himself, but it was strange that he would disappear when he had known Severus had been firmly against the detention in the first place. It was also infuriatingly bewildering — there was no fucking reason he would’ve left Hogwarts when the Stone and the girl were in jeopardy. He knew as well as Severus that his presence was the greatest stronghold against any dark forces that lurked beyond the castle grounds — dark forces that Dumbledore had confirmed himself.

Miss Evans was silent, her eyes sharp as she removed herself from beneath his cloak, blinking as she took in the space. He pulled the girl in front of him, listening for sounds of rustling or scuttling, but only silence greeted them. It was loud, and final.

“Dumbledore?” he called, attempting to sound calm, keeping his hand on Miss Evans’ shoulder. She grabbed his wrist.

“What’re we doing here?” she whispered.

Severus shushed her. He lifted his wand, running a Diagnostic spell on her — he didn’t think he would find anything — he never did after an attack — but it put his mind somewhat at ease. As he did so, he turned, expecting to see Dumbledore emerge from somewhere Severus couldn’t see, but there was nothing.

a shriek like a ghost ripped from its haunting

something was there something won’t stop saying my name something won’t leave me alone

Severus was going to kill someone, something, sometime soon if he didn’t start getting some fucking answers.

Miss Evans didn’t look alarmed anymore, only strangely pensive in the dim light of the office. Her eyes wandered as though they had a mind of their own, drinking in Dumbledore’s space like she’d been dying of thirst. She had sticks in her hair and dirt on her face — she looked like something that lived in Hagrid’s compost pile. Severus was distantly aware of the fact that she’d never been here before, and to a child, this was probably the epitome of what she had imagined when she’d first heard of Hogwarts. Dumbledore’s office looked like a refurbished, more mature version of a toyshop to her, between all the sweets, the oddities that lined his shelves and the nauseating amount of color. It should have been a crime to house so much contrast in a single room.

“Stay here,” Severus commanded, motioning for Miss Evans to sit in one of the chairs beside the fire. Despite the fact that the Headmaster wasn’t there, it crackled heartily in the hearth. “Do not touch anything.”

She ogled at the baubles and knick-knacks, nodded jerkily, and sat without a word. He almost marveled that she’d done what she had been fucking told for once but dismissed it and went looking for Dumbledore instead.

His quarters were empty — Severus had the suspicion that the old man was as much of an insomniac as he was, but he definitely wasn’t here. Dumbledore was almost always sitting readily behind his desk, twinkling and far too happy to greet him, as if he somehow always knew when Severus was coming. The edges of his vision shimmered as he frantically thought of what to do. Dumbledore needed to know what had happened in the Forest, but Severus hadn’t a damn clue where he was. He couldn’t take the girl from the school — or maybe he should, but how would he explain —

He felt a tug on his cloak. “How did you know where I was?”

Severus whirled around to find the girl next to him. She stared up in earnest, frowning, and he glared wildly down at her. “I thought I told you —”

“You did,” she said, very matter-of-factly. “But Professor, I need to tell you something —”

He could feel his brain splitting apart. “Chair — now.”

She huffed and walked away, leaving Severus with his back to her. If Dumbledore had left, he would have told at least one other person where he had gone, and if it wasn’t Severus, it was probably Minerva. He’d had the suspicion that Dumbledore enjoyed pitting them against one another, but hadn’t any tangible proof to prove the theory, but this sort of evasive, secretive middle-of-the-night bullshit venture was just the sort of thing Dumbledore would do, and if he hadn’t told Severus, there was a reason why.

He conjured the stone he carried with him. Each member of the staff had one in case of emergency and allowed them to communicate. He'd never had a reason to use his, until now.

The girl was back, in the meantime, two sharp jerks on his robes again. “Wait, before you go doing anything, I really need to tell you —”

Severus shook her off — he had half a mind to launch her out the window. “Minerva,” he growled. “where is Albus?”

A groggy voice replied to him a moment or so later. “Severus, do you have any idea what time it is?”

Miss Evans gave him a you’ve-done-it-now look. Minerva must’ve read her and Weasley-twerp the riot act, and then some.

“If I wanted a clock, I would’ve conjured that instead,” Severus snapped. “Where is he?”

The girl eyed the stone like she thought it would explode. Severus distantly thanked any deity listening that there were several walls between him and Minerva at that moment. He’d already been on her shitlist before now, and tomorrow morning, she would certainly be letting him have it. Luckily, Severus was too furious to care.

“He’s gone to the Ministry,” Minerva finally replied, after a silence that was uncomfortably long, her voice as tight as a vise. “there were discussions taking place on whether or not to relocate the Stone. I would suppose if he’s not back yet that he’s gone to Nicholas’ home for the time being — Albus was quite adamant about it.”

Miss Evans gaped, looking at him like she expected an explanation immediately. Severus vanished the useless-stone, and paced the length of Dumbledore’s desk, eyeing the Floo behind it. He half expected the old man to come waltzing out at any second, right on cue, as he often did, but the office stayed silent, the Floo undisturbed. Even Fawkes was gone, but that wasn’t nearly as strange as Dumbledore’s absence. He was almost a piece of the furniture in Severus’ memory, always behind the desk, at the window, by the fire —

why had he chosen tonight to go why tonight?

the girl’s screams cutting through the night air like an arrow to the chest

you saw it you saw it too right it’s killing the unicorns

Severus felt something cold and hard slide down his spine. He fought to grab a hold of his Occlumency, but it was near impossible —

“Goddammit —” Severus snarled, throwing one of the books on Dumbledore’s desk at the wall. It didn’t help curb his anger in the slightest, and this infuriated him even more. Why move the Stone now, after all these months? What was he hiding?

hide them hide them all

something was after the girl the Dark Lord was coming for her

something was following me something won’t stop saying my name

Miss Evans, in the meantime, was frowning deeply up at him. “What’s going on? Why’re they moving the Stone?”

I am going to take Hagrid’s skull apart by hand is what’s going on, you foolish child —

Severus glared down at her, and when he spoke, his voice was surprisingly even. “What do you think is happening?”

He could see her clench her jaw in annoyance. “I think you don’t know either, if I’m being honest.”

“Very good, Miss Evans,” he shot back nastily. “You were more useful keeping your mouth shut, it seems.”

She stormed towards him, fists balled at her sides. “I deserve to know! I — I could’ve died if you hadn’t come! That thing was killing unicorns… Malfoy said nothing kills them, and it stopped when it saw me. You saw it too, didn’t you? You had to have been following us, there’s no way you could’ve gotten there that quick, and I didn’t even use the coin! What was that thing?”

I could’ve died

Professor Snape must’ve cared about her something fierce

she’s not here and you don’t even care

He stared down at her, holding her gaze. She’d inherited his eyes, of all the things, but he had been in denial about how penetrating her gaze could be, how it cut him apart from the inside. She wielded it the way a child wielded a carving knife, unaware of the damage it could inflict.

“Killing a unicorn, let alone drinking one’s blood, is considered a heinous act.” Severus said, keeping his voice devoid of emotion. “You will live a half-life, if you choose to consume it. What you saw in the Forest was a husk of a person — choosing not to surrender to death has its consequences. That thing you witnessed is the product of those choices.”

The thought was too horrifying to consider, but the more Severus pondered it, the more it burrowed into his mind, hollowing out the space where some sort of reprieve had taken hold when the Dark Lord had fallen all those years ago. Dumbledore had often asked him what form the Dark Lord might have taken, but Severus had done his damnedest to avoid the subject, unwilling to give him a shred of conscious thought, unable to make himself imagine where or what the Dark Lord was now, after he’d murdered Lily and Potter. It was too much, and now, Severus almost found it to be amusing, that Dumbledore was gone, and in his stead, Miss Evans now asked him to breach the very thing he’d loathed to say out loud, hated with every fiber of his being, almost as much as he hated himself.

He watched the girl shudder. “That thing must’ve been pretty desperate, then.”

“Desperate,” Severus paused. “and opportunistic.”

She didn’t answer, her eyes wandering around the room once more. She rubbed at her arms, pulling her cloak tightly around her shoulders as she settled back into the chair beside the fire.

“I think that thing is what’s been talking to me,” she said. “It sounded just like it, but I didn’t feel the same way.”

He narrowed his eyes and took a step towards her. The nerves in his hands felt like fire ants marching across his skin. “Explain.”

Miss Evans shook her head, the fire’s reflection in her eyes causing them to glow a deep amber. “It’s weird — my scar always hurts when I see it, but this time it was worse. When I see the Smoke Monster, it almost feels like I’m in a dream, and no one else can see it. Tonight though, Malfoy saw it, and you did too, right? You cast that spell to scare it away.”

Severus had been trying not to think about it. Draco had run straight into him as Severus had barreled down into the ravine, practically shaking the boy’s head off his shoulders until he was able to muster together a general direction he’d left the girl in. He’d heard her screaming, then, and had run into the clearing as a dark mass had lunged at her —

I could’ve died

it won’t leave me alone

“Snape?” she looked straight at him then. He had half a mind to interrupt and berate her for daring to address him by his surname, but she’d never done so before, and he could tell that she was not doing it to be disrespectful. “I have to tell you something — something it said.”

A feeling of dread fell over him, but Severus inclined his head for her to continue. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

Miss Evans took a shaky breath. “I didn’t hear much because I kicked it back —”

Severus stared at her. “You… kicked it.”

She nodded. “In the face,” she added.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and took several steadying breaths. “Of course you did.”

“Well, what else was I supposed to do?” Miss Evans shot back. “I couldn’t reach my wand!’

He couldn’t think of a counterargument to combat that, but the thought encircled him, a cloud that hung over him as he stood. The girl pulled her knees up to her chin, watching him warily as he placed his hands on the arms of the chair, caging her in. The fact that she was avoiding telling him was raising several red flags.

“It wants the letter,” she said, her voice wobbly, but there was force behind it, like putting your hand up to a rattling windowpane. “it wants to know what’s in it.”

An icy fist felt like it was trying to pry its fingers through his ribs. Through the haze of panic and adrenaline, Severus hadn’t been able to see it clearly, but it unraveled swiftly as he understood the gravity of the situation. She’d been a target since that letter — everything had begun the night she’d read it, from the troll invading the school, to all these attacks, to the Dark Lord’s knowledge of the —

it wants me to tell it something

He stood up.

tell me

The girl’s eyes were glued to his.

I don’t know what it wants

Severus could hear the shelves begin to rattle around him.

it won’t leave me alone

Miss Evans gave him a look of alarm, sitting up straighter in her seat. “What —”

“Who did you tell?” Severus hissed.

She opened and closed her mouth several times, and he could practically see her racking her brain, trying to come up with something. “No one! Just Ron and Hermione know, I haven’t told anyone else!”

The anger surged up inside of him, the dim lights suddenly blinding. “There is no possible way he could have known unless you were reckless.”

“I didn’t —” Miss Evans tried, almost desperately. “I swear I didn’t —”

“You pathetically carry it around; anyone could have seen it!”

Her face flushed a deep crimson, the fire turning her hair copper. “It has the Charm on it, there’s no way!”

“You’re going to tell me,” Severus began menacingly. “that in all your little escapades, that you’re never spoken without earshot of someone, or left the damn thing lying about? What about Granger and Weasley?”

“He didn’t know, okay?” she wiped at her eyes before her face smoothed over, cold and empty. “He just wanted it, he had no idea you’re my dad. I — I swear on my magic, the only people that know are Ron and Hermione, and Professor Dumbledore, but you knew that. I’m not stupid — it’s my secret too. None of them would betray me like that — never!”

For a flicker of a moment, he considered using Legilimency on her, but thought of the ramifications and quickly dismissed it. She would fight him, and it would do more harm than good.

“Wait —” Miss Evans gasped. “I told Professor Flitwick! I asked if he could undo the Charm!”

Severus whirled around, his cloak twisting around his ankles. She had gotten up, followed him to the window.

“You don’t think —” she started, but Severus cut her off.

“It’s not Filius,” he almost laughed at the thought. “I can assure you of that. I do recall, however, a good amount of discussion taking place in the staff room over it.”

Her face twisted in shock, and then anger. “Why’d he do that? It wasn’t any of his business!”

“You have made that damn letter everyone’s business, with how much havoc it’s wrecked —”

“It’s not my fault, I had no idea —”

“You’re right, you had no idea,” Severus bit out. “That damn letter should’ve stayed locked away. You have no conception of what its discovery could do, of what it could jeopardize.”

She wrung her hands in her robes. The freckles around her nose paled.

“I’ll hide it,” she said, and he could tell she wasn’t really talking to him as much as she was trying to convince herself. “I’ll put it somewhere nobody knows — not even Ron and Hermione. I’ll leave it there with the Charm on it —”

He saw it, then — a way out.

As the girl rambled on about what she would do to keep the letter safe, the realization of what he needed to do crept in without making a sound, but its intentions were crystal clear.

I wish I could see what Mum did, the girl had told Dumbledore.

Severus could show her when Lily had seen — he could show her his callousness, his cruelty, his ability to be merciless without a thought. Apathy was a tragedy to Dumbledore, but it was Severus’ greatest tool. He could show her why Lily had not told him about the baby, why she’d gone to Potter, and why she should have never read that damn letter.

He could keep her safe by destroying it — the letter, and her faith in him. He could kill this parasitic attachment, this thing he had allowed to grow. It was his own fault, and they would both pay the price for it, but she didn’t have to know that. It wouldn’t be an outright rejection, but it would be enough — it would cleave her from him without it turning to outright resentment. She wouldn’t be able to solely blame him, but it would be such a blow that the girl would never look at him again without remembering. Severus could protect her from a distance, she wouldn’t entangle herself with him again. She would learn her lesson — she would —

“Accio letter,” he said.

It flew into his hand without hesitation. He knew she would have it with her — he’d caught her checking on it during class before. She hadn’t taken it out, but she handled it with the same reverence a devout Catholic might handle a rosary.

“What’re you doing?” she asked, and she stood, her eyes glued to it, the way a mother watched her child when they were wary of someone who was too close, someone they did not trust.

His voice had gone from him, but his eyes flitted to the fire.

Miss Evans’ face drained of color, and he moved.

“NO!” she lunged at him. She moved fast, but not nearly as fast as he did. Her fists slammed against his legs, pulling on his cloak as she struggled to reach his hands, clawing desperately at his arms. Severus could feel her putting every ounce of energy she had into trying to stop him, but it would not be enough.

“No no no please —”

The girl fought, but Severus moved on automation, letting his legs carry him over to the hearth. He could feel each fold in the parchment, could feel it’s true weight in his hands as Miss Evans put all of hers into stopping him.

“Stop — STOP — please…” she tugged at his arms and legs, trying to force him to trip.

Severus flung the letter into the fire.

The girl tried to grab it, tried to fling herself into the flames to rescue it, but Severus held her back in an iron grip. After a few moments of pleading, she sagged against him, and she fell to the ground.

He let her sit on the floor and cry, unable to move. He would have left if he could, but he deserved to hear her weeping, and deserved how her pain cut through him like a knife. He might as well have been the paper burning in the fireplace.

Her face crumpled, like the burning paper.

“It was the only thing I ever had…” she croaked.

He couldn't breathe. He kept perfectly still, letting it happen, watching the grief turn into bitterness, into resentment, until her entire body was shaking with rage.

“I’m all alone now,” she said. “just like you. Are you happy? Is that what you wanted all this time?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t think he could. She stared up at him with those eyes — not-Lily eyes, and a not-Lily face. This was the first time he was seeing Her — not The Girl in the cupboard, or Lily-thing, or Miss Evans. She had transformed into an entirely different child somehow, in the blink of an eye, or perhaps it had always been there, and he had never seen it. Through the haze of the magnitude of what he had done, of what he could never take back, Severus saw that the girl didn’t look much like Lily at all. Lily had never stood the way the girl did, with endless eyes and a marble face.

He expected her to say that she hated him, to curse him and to swear to never speak to him as long as she lived, but she didn’t. Instead, she looked at the rucksack, and slipped the Cloak out.

And then she was gone.

His hands were shaking — he couldn’t stop shaking, as he lowered himself into one of the chairs by the fire. He lifted his hands to try and feel some of the warmth, but he couldn’t, he’d gone completely numb.

“She’ll be fine,” Severus whispered. “It had to be done.”

He buried his face in his hands as the parchment’s ashes scattered around his feet and fought the burn of regret where his heart had once been.

Severus burned, and waited for Dumbledore to return.

———

The Cloak fell off Ariel halfway back to Gryffindor Tower.

Her limbs were so heavy that she didn’t have the strength to pull it back on, and so she sagged against the wall and cried again. It wasn’t going to do any good, but it felt like the only thing she could do right now. Her tears stung at her cheeks, and she watched them hit the stones, watching them puddle and melt away, and wished she could, too.

She hugged the Cloak to her, and she thought of James wearing it, and wondered if he’d ever used it to sit alone and cry, wondered if he would’ve felt any sort of pity for her, or if he’d resent her like Snape did.

All she’d wanted was for Snape to try, just try — and he had, when he’d hugged her in the alcove, and promised to protect her, but she’d been stupid to think they had meant anything. It was about Mum — it would always be about Mum, and the thought caused her resentment to shift to her, for a split second, before the realization made her heart heavy with guilt.

Ariel had a strangely funny thought, then — this had begun with letters, letters filling up the Dursleys house from top to bottom, spilling out of egg cartons and flinging themselves from the fireplace. She hadn’t cared much about those letters getting destroyed, because she’d known deep down that she’d get her hands on one eventually. Little had she’d known that the most important letter of all had been just above her head all her life, sitting in that stuffy attic. Ariel had thought it the greatest gift Hogwarts had ever given her, but she’d been wrong. Mum had been wrong.

Every time Ariel had tried, and failed, it had taken a little piece. She hadn’t thought about what would happen if Snape had taken the biggest piece of all. Sometimes, she thought of her hand pressed up to that Mirror, thought about what she would say to her Mum if she’d been able to hear — really and truly hear. Now, Ariel knew.

You were wrong, she would scream. You were wrong and you told me it would be okay —

She punched the wall, and then, cradled her fist in her hand, wincing as her fingers throbbed with their own heartbeat. They still hurt from when she’d tried to get Snape to stop, but he’d thrown Mum’s letter into the fire without even hesitating. She’d never have that back — it was gone forever —

She was so cold and empty, so far from herself, that she almost didn’t notice Professor Quirrell at the end of the corridor.

For the first few seconds Ariel just ignored him, hoping he’d go away and leave her be, but she quickly realized that wasn’t going to happen when she felt her fingertips begin to vibrate.

Her head snapped up just in time to see the edges of her vision beginning to wobble, and before Ariel could register what was happening, it was there — hanging over Professor Quirrell, floating just above his head.

Something crackled through it, like lightning in clouds, only it was crimson, and she could feel the whir of magic, even several yards away. It wasn’t the same kind of magic she’d felt in Professor Dumbledore’s office, either. This was something that she wanted nothing to do with — it gave her the feeling like when someone brandished a whip.

The floor suddenly felt very hot. The candles in the hallway all went out at once, plunging Ariel into a darkness she hadn’t known was possible.

She could hear footsteps slapping against stone. Every cell in her body was screaming for her to run as her scar erupted in pain, but she couldn’t move — she couldn’t feel her legs, she was empty and cold and bottomless and hopeless —

When Ariel managed to open her eyes through the haze of pain, she saw Them.

Professor Quirrell’s smile widened — it was too wide, a smile with too many teeth, a smile that stretched too far in both directions. Ariel felt her heart skip a beat, and when it came back, it slammed against her sternum like a hummingbird’s.

the wanderer weary, full of fear

“Whatever you did,” Professor Quirrell said. “that was the last piece he needed.”

And then his darkness swallowed her whole.

To be continued...
Chapter 20: child of wonder by shostakobitch

Previously: After learning that Quirrell-Mort wants Lily’s letter, Severus decided to take matters into his own hands by burning it once and for all. Destroying it, however, has brought about some unexpected consequences, consequences that Severus couldn’t have foreseen; consequences Ariel will be paying the price for…

————

When Ariel awoke, she could feel something was very, very wrong.

There were pinpricks in her fingertips, and stars in her eyes. Something inside of her felt bottomless, hollow and far away, like the spaces between planets. She could feel herself scattered all around, like she wasn’t in her body.

She sat up groggily, wincing as her head pounded. The room was dim, but she could see that it was huge — not as big as the Great Hall, but she could sense that the walls were far apart, the darkness shrouding the far corners so that Ariel could only see what was directly in front of her.

In front of her stood Quirrell, with his back to her. He was gazing into the Mirror of Erised — Ariel’s heart panged with longing to look into it again, before fear gripped at her throat. She forced herself to stand, her knees weak and feet heavy, but her mind felt surprisingly clear, despite the pain throbbing in her temple.

“It’s been you,” she croaked, not meaning to say it out loud, but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t believe it — she hadn’t known who could have been helping Voldemort, but all she could picture were Fred and George flinging snowballs at the back of Quirrell’s head on Christmas Day, and now —

“You’re awake,” said Quirrell, like he’d been extremely put-off. “I was beginning to think you were dead. That would have been terribly annoying.”

She looked around, wincing as her head pounded. “Where am I?”

“This is where that old fool had been hiding the Stone.” Quirrell’s face twisted in disgust. “He thought he could outwit me and my Master, but we’ve been one step ahead all this time, biding our time until he could take you.”

She sucked in a deep breath. “Why would you need me?”

Quirrell barked a cold, humorless laugh. “Why do you think, girl? The Stone is all that stands between you and your death — Dumbledore would’ve made sure my Master would never get it, but his precious savior child…”

“Your Master… you mean —”

“He’s been waiting for you,” Quirrell smiled, the same way Dudley had smiled at her while he thought of a lie to tell Aunt Petunia, only much worse, much scarier, much smarter. “He's been waiting for a long time, actually. He didn’t think it would be this easy, but you’ve proven to be much easier to manipulate…”

His words made her head spin. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve seen him, girl! Don’t deny it!”

inescapable darkness endless darkness

tell me tell me what it said

scissors in her teeth and a glass balloon in her chest

Ariel suddenly felt very weak, like she was going to faint, but she couldn’t — she wouldn’t. It was so hard to concentrate on his words, even though she knew all of this already, hearing Quirrell gloat about it was… strange. “I know it’s been him but you — you sent the Bludger after me, didn’t you?”

“And the troll,” Quirrell admitted calmly. “That was how I found out about your little secret. As I was letting it in, I caught you and Granger huddled over that letter, and when Filius said how desperate you were to undo your mother’s protective magics… well, my Master and I knew something very interesting must have been imparted to you. Were you ever able to undo the Charm, or was it too much for you?”

lie lie lie to him don’t let him know

it’s gone forever you’ll never get it

The fuzzy feeling faded, like water being sucked through a straw. Her head was clear, and bright, and all she could think of was Snape’s face in the firelight, his eyes and voice bottomless —

“No,” Ariel said tonelessly. “I burned it.”

She could instantly tell this was not the answer he wanted to hear. Quirrell went very still, but she saw that he’d carefully slipped his wand down his sleeve, and into his palm.

“You’re going to tell me what was in that letter,” Quirrell said, his voice quiet, but each word was succinct, like he wanted them to jab her brain.

She stared at him, stunned. “Why? Why do you want it so badly? It’s just a stupid letter!”

“You tell me.” Quirrell gave a threatening smile. “You didn’t think I was perceptive, did you? You didn’t think I would catch on that there was something… important your mother imparted to you? I overheard Filius telling Dumbledore how desperate you were to uncover your mother’s protective magics. Severus was after it too, wasn’t he? He was rather bothered by it, but that shouldn’t have been surprising. He wanted the secret all to himself… did he manage to pull it out of you, after all those detentions?”

Ariel’s ears were ringing. Her heart felt like it was going to explode in her chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” Quirrell took a step towards her, but Ariel stood her ground. “That little letter has created quite the fuss, hasn’t it Evans?

She lifted her chin defiantly. “I don’t see why what my mum wrote to me bothers you so much. Too much time on your hands since getting the Stone hasn’t been so easy, yeah?”

His nostrils flared angrily. “Tell me what it said, girl, or I will force it out of you.”

She took a wary step back, feeling the inside of her sleeves for her wand, but she couldn’t feel it — Quirrell must’ve taken it. “What do you think is inside it?”

“Don’t play cheeky games with me! I know your mother must have known why my Master sought you out… what powers lay dormant within you.”

Ariel almost burst out laughing. “You think I have special powers?”

Quirrell snapped his fingers, and ropes appeared, tying themselves around her wrists before she could process what was happening. She struggled against them, twisting her hands as she tried to slip through the knots, but they were too tight — she was trapped.

“Perhaps not,” he said disdainfully. “You are, after all, rather unremarkable. I almost pity Severus for putting up with you all those nights, but it is of no matter now. Once I have the Stone, my Master will have his way with you once more, and he will return to his former glory.”

Ariel quickly racked her brain for a plan. She couldn’t let him get the Stone, but she was also completely baffled. The Giant Smoke Monster — who was really Voldemort — had taken her down here, she remembered that, but where was he? Why was only Quirrell here? If he really wanted answers about the letter and the Stone, why didn’t Voldemort just pop up and do it himself? He’d made her sock Malfoy in the face — Voldemort didn’t seem like the type of bloke who would leave something this important to someone like Quirrell, even though he was pretty nasty.

“This damn Mirror is the key to finding the Stone,” Quirrell circled in, like a hungry lion stalking its prey. “Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this, but he’s in London — I’ll be far away by the time he gets back.”

Ariel felt her veins turn to ice. She needed to call for help, she needed Snape, but the coin was in her rucksack in Dumbledore’s office —

“I see the Stone, I’m presenting it to my Master, but where is it?” Quirrell fumed.

She had to keep him distracted. If the Stone really was inside the Mirror, she couldn’t let him get it —

“You ask a lot of questions for an evil henchman.” she said. “You’re not very good at this, are you?”

“Patience is a virtue, Evans. I couldn’t take you and the Stone whenever I pleased… I had to bide my time… our time…”

Ariel felt something cold slide down her spine. “You mean Voldemort… he was that thing I was seeing, wasn’t he?”

Quirrell smirked at her. “My Master was quite pleased with that, you know. A silly child like you is no match for him, but how quickly moldable you were… how easily he was able to control you. He knew then that taking you would be an easy feat. He would have taken you sooner, but Severus has been watching you annoyingly closely.”

Her head felt like it was floating off her shoulders, but she knew she had to play dumb to get more answers. “Why would Snape care?”

“Oh, he hates you.” Quirrell laughed, but it was devoid of humor. “Your father and him had quite the rivalry while they were in school together.”

Ariel felt her stomach twist into nine different knots. “What are you talking about? They knew each other?”

“He hated your father, didn’t you know?” Quirrell went on, almost mercilessly. “I’d suppose that’s why he’s had you in detention every chance he got.”

Ariel desperately wanted to know more. Snape had never mentioned James, not once. “Why did he hate him?”

“I would imagine he was quite jealous… Potter was Head Boy, star of the Quidditch team, well liked. Severus was almost the polar opposite.”

What about Mum? “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“Of course you don’t,” Quirrell said, waving a dismissive hand. “You stupid girl —”

“Use the girl… use the girl…”

Ariel froze, unable to move. She knew that voice — it was —

Quirrell rounded on his heel. “Yes — Evans! Come here!”

She couldn’t process what was happening, not even when her body hit the floor, pain spreading up through her arms. She was so cold cold cold —

“Come here,” Quirrell repeated, sounding impatient. “Tell me what you see, Evans.”

Ariel didn’t want to look into the Mirror again, but Quirrell was pointing right at it, and there was nowhere to go, no way to fight without her wand. She crept towards it slowly, not taking her eyes off Quirrell, but also terrified that any second, the Giant Smoke Monster would come barreling down on her again. She mustered together every ounce of courage she had, every last drop, making it so that her fists did not shake, that her feet did not stumble, and that her heart would not break when she met her parent’s eyes — maybe for the last time.

It was with that thought that Ariel felt her eyes slide shut, and suddenly, she was back in Dumbledore’s office, where she’d been only hours — maybe even minutes — ago. She thought of the hum of magic and the hum of rage in her teeth, of how Snape had stared down at her like she would shatter into a thousand pieces after he’d thrown Mum’s letter into the fireplace. But Ariel hadn’t shattered, she’d taken all of that rage and grief and clung onto it, because feeling something was better than feeling nothing, better than knowing that she had lost all three of them and they weren’t ever coming back, no one was coming for her no one no one no one —

She thought of escaping. She thought of stopping Voldemort, of keeping him from hurting the ones she loved. If he got the Stone, no one would be safe. He’d hurt Ron and Hermione —

When Ariel opened her eyes, she met her own reflection, who held out the Stone to her with a grin. It waved, like she was an old friend she hadn’t seen in a long time and dropped the Stone into her pocket.

Ariel felt something heavy drop into her own and had to bite her tongue to keep from yelling.

“Well?” Quirrell snapped impatiently. “What do you see?”

She thought of something silly, something she’d daydreamed about at the start of the year. “I’m… I’m having dinner with the Weasley’s. We’re at their dinner table, and Hermione’s there — Mrs Weasley’s made my favorite —”

“Get out of the way,” Quirrell shoved her aside, and she stumbled backwards, quickly trying to put as much space in between her and him as possible. “I should have known you would be useless —”

“She lies… she lies…” hissed a cold, high voice.

The air around her suddenly felt heavy, like she was running out of air.

“Evans, get back here!” Quirrell snarled. “Tell me the truth, you little brat! What did you just see?”

She pushed herself to her feet, searching for somewhere to run, when she heard it again.

“Let me speak to her… face to face…” said the voice, but it wasn’t Quirrell, his lips weren’t moving —

“No, Master, you are not strong enough after taking her!” Quirrell cried.

“I have strength enough… for this.”

———

“Severus?”

The soft, puzzled voice of Dumbledore broke through the thick silence as morning came, the first rays of light glowing beyond the frosted panes.

Severus did not turn, but felt Dumbledore’s eyes on his back. His neck ached from hanging so low, from being bent towards the ground for so long. He felt like he hadn’t moved in a millennium, unable to face the forgotten rucksack that lay between him and the door. He’d counted the porcelain animals Dumbledore kept on a shelf above the fireplace, his Occlumency letting him float numbly— he’d gotten up to two-hundred and seven when the Floo finally spat the old man out.

Severus knew when Dumbledore saw it when he heard the resigned exhale, as just seeing the bag was enough to piece together what had happened. He certainly knew who had been here, at the very least.

Dumbledore did not ask what was wrong, or what had happened. He simply stood in place, hands folded patiently in front of him, and waited.

“The Dark Lord is in the Forest,” said Severus after a moment. “feeding on fucking unicorns to stay alive.”

There was a long, almost endless, silence before Dumbledore spoke. “I had wondered what Tom would do in order to maintain his form. I would suppose that lingering between life and death does demand some sort of sustenance, especially after all of this time.”

Little flecks of rage dug into him at Dumbledore’s seeming indifference. “The girl saw it.”

Dumbledore’s expression did not change. “Did she?”

“During her detention with Hagrid,” the rage built, stacking itself until it was a wall, towering over him, towering over them both. “which I told you was a stupid idea from the beginning —”

“I would assume she is alright, regardless.” Dumbledore’s eyes flitted to the rucksack. “Or I would imagine we would be having a very different conversation.”

Severus’ arm swung, flinging one of the dragons into the fire. “I thought you fucking cared about what happened to that girl —”

“I very much do,” Dumbledore said, and his voice was serious for once, devoid of any sort of assuages and reassurance. “I would not have let her go if I did not think she was protected.”

“She wouldn’t have been if I hadn’t been there!”

He realized his mistake the second the words left his mouth. His anger burned like piping hot coal in the very center of his chest.

“But you were,” Dumbledore said softly. “because you knew that if she needed you, you had to be there.”

“Oh, I was there,” Severus spat back viciously. “Do you know what it wanted, Headmaster? Do you know why it’s been hounding her, why it won’t leave her alone?”

Dumbledore didn’t even blink. “Why, the Stone of course.”

“It wants the letter.” Severus threw back at him, almost relishing the look of surprise on the old man’s face. It would have felt far more satisfying had the words not clung to his throat like cobwebs, had the girl’s twisted face not flashed through his mind.

Dumbledore did not say anything for a long while. He stared out the window, and Severus could practically see the wheels turning in his head, connecting together what this meant, that the Dark Lord was more entrenched in the school than the pair of them had ever imagined, and why Lily’s daughter’s rucksack sat in the middle of the floor, the only silent member of the conversation who was the loudest of all.

“Well?” Severus asked. “Have I finally rendered you speechless?

His mouth opened and closed before letting himself settle against the front of his desk. “Did Ariel say why?”

“No, but he was… quite desperate.”

“He wasn’t able to take it from her, I gather?” Dumbledore’s eyebrows knitted together.

“You think I would have let that happen?”

“But something did happen to it,” Dumbledore’s eyes seared straight through him, like an x-ray. “Didn’t it, Severus?”

The fire popped in the hearth. Outside, the wind howled against the windowpanes, rattling the glass. Severus felt like the glass, battered and worn and cold.

“I burned it,” Severus forced out. “I destroyed it — she watched me do it. She begged me not to, and I did it anyway.”

There was a heavy, oppressive silence, one that clung to the air around him, making it difficult to breathe.

“I see,” Dumbledore said, and the disappointment in his voice was impossible to ignore.

“Good riddance,” Severus said, and the words tasted like ash in his mouth.

“You cannot possibly mean that.” Dumbledore said sharply. The sharpness caught Severus by surprise, who had only anticipated sad glances and a lecture on the power of love — on the sacrifice Lily had given, and what her only words to their daughter would do — but Severus knew. He had wanted it — he had to protect that foolish child, had to —

“She is safe, now.” Severus said. “That’s all that matters.”

The old man’s expression hardened. “Safe? Physically, yes, she is safe. You have, however, taken away the one thing that was her true refuge. And for what, Severus?”

“For her own sake! She cannot be allowed to believe that I am in any way suitable —”

“That is not for you to decide.”

“Is it not?” Severus snapped. “You cannot have it both ways, Albus. I am her father — I am making the decision to not assume that role for her own good. If she were to find out what I have done, what I did to her mother and Potter, would that not be a greater blow? Your precious love would not be enough to protect her from that particular truth.”

Dumbledore's eyes filled with sadness, or perhaps it was pity. “You have taken that choice from her.”

His words hit Severus like a Bludger to the chest. He thought of the girl standing protectively in front of Granger in the stands, of her imploring face after Hagrid’s mutt had tried to rip his leg off, of the worry and determination set in her thin face. Alone with his thoughts after the girl had left, Severus had realized that if he hadn’t destroyed the letter, he wouldn’t have been able to handle her turning away from him. Burning Lily’s letter had been as much about protecting himself as it had been protecting her.

“Why give her the choice at all?” Severus asked. “Why put her through all of that misery, when I can protect her from afar, without her learning all that I have done? I ruined her life long before she was born, Albus.”

“It is by your own volition that she is alive.”

Severus’ stomach churned with guilt. “And that her mother is dead.”

“You have run from this as though you have a choice.” Dumbledore said sternly. “You cannot disown what is already yours. There is always a return, and it will either be a reconciliation, or revenge. It is up to you to shape what Ariel will come to, in time.”

“I’ve done enough —”

“You have done nothing yet.”

Severus couldn’t help it — he flinched. “I swore I would keep her away from that damn madman, that I would protect the last of Lily. What more would you ask of me? I cannot return to the Dark Lord and be what the girl wants. I cannot, Albus!”

Dumbledore paused. “Do you recall what Ariel said to me, the night she looked into the Mirror?”

This was the first time he had brought it up. Severus assumed he had done so out of mercy, but with everything laid bare, he supposed there was no room for mercy, or for empathy. Not after what he had done to her. “They were the wishes of an ignorant child.”

“It was hope,” said Dumbledore. “and hope is the last thing ever lost.”

There was an endless silence that spanned between them. The glass from the smashed figurine popped in the hearth.

Dumbledore’s face went blank, and his head turned to the door to his office. “We have visitors.”

Severus moved to leave, but the old man lifted a hand to stop him. For a moment, Severus thought it was the girl, and he felt the urge to run, to get as far away as possible, for as the door to the Headmaster’s office creaked open, he immediately recognized the mess of hair.

It was Granger and Weasley-twerp, who looked as happy to see Severus as he was to see them. They stepped inside cautiously, like they were testing the floor to see if it was booby-trapped. Some flickers of relief managed to cross their faces, however, when they saw Dumbledore standing by his desk, realizing that they were not alone with Severus.

“We’re sorry to interrupt, Headmaster,” Granger said in a meek voice, one that didn’t sound anything like her normal self — one that Severus did not believe for a second.

“Please don’t apologize, my dear.” Dumbledore said gently. “Though I must ask if this is urgent, it is quite early —”

“It is,” Granger interrupted. “It’s about Ariel.”

Weasley-twerp stared up at Severus like he was going to impale him with his wand. Severus wondered what the girl had said to him.

“Ariel never came back,” Granger said. “to Gryffindor Tower, I mean. She’s missing.”

Something inside of Severus snapped in half.

Dumbledore must have sensed this, or maybe he heard the last shred of control Severus had breaking, because he very quickly said. “Are you certain, Miss Granger?”

“She wasn’t in her bed, and she’s nowhere in Gryffindor Tower.” Granger shuffled her feet nervously, but her voice was strong and clear. “Ron came back from his detention hours ago, but he said Ariel had gone with Professor Snape, sir.”

This earned Severus another murderous glare from Weasley-twerp. Severus mustered together something that would have made Longbottom drop dead, but Weasley-twerp leveled his gaze, not breaking eye contact. Had Severus not been on the brink of losing his fucking mind, he would have been impressed.

“She’s gone after that damn Stone,” Severus began, his voice a low rumble. “I know it — the three of you refused to mind your own damn business and now she’s gone and done something moronic —”

“She hasn’t!” Weasley-twerp shot up at them. “Show them the bracelet, Hermione!”

“What does a bracelet have to do with —”

Dumbledore held up a hand. “I would very much like to hear what Miss Granger has to say, Severus.”

Granger lifted up her wrist. “I noticed it when I woke up… it’s a Charmed friendship bracelet, you see. Ariel got them for us for Christmas, it tells us what the other is feeling. When we’re asleep, they turn grey, and it’s… well…”

The dim light shone, casting long shadows across all of their faces as the wind wailed outside. Severus could feel his breathing becoming shallow, the air burning on every inhale. If the girl wasn’t asleep in Gryffindor Tower, then where the fuck had she gone? He had to find her, had to go —

“But sir, that’s not all…”

Weasley-twerp pulled his arms from behind his back, revealing Potter’s Cloak. “We found this on the way to your office.” he said shakily. “Ariel never would have left this lying around.”

Granger’s arm lifted suddenly, her face drained of color, and her eyes glued to the bracelet. It glowed a deep purple, the color of bruised knees and lock-picking spells.

“She’s awake!” Weasley-twerp looked relieved, but Granger’s expression did not change. She looked up at Severus, her amber eyes wide with fear, with panic, with one simple request.

“And what does this color mean?” Dumbledore asked, as if he already knew the answer.

Granger took a deep breath, and said, “Fear.”

————

Ariel couldn’t help it — she screamed when she saw the Horrible Thing on the back of Quirrell’s head. She couldn’t imagine anything more horrible, it’s red eyes the same ones she had seen in the Giant Smoke Monster, only this time, it had a face, if it could even be called that. Its face was the color of bone with blood-red eyes, as if that was all it was, stripped of skin and muscle and tissue, leaving behind this thing that looked like a corpse, but wasn’t…

“Ariel Evans…” the Horrible Thing whispered. “See what I have become?”

When her brain finally started working again, she forced herself to speak. “It can’t be, you’re that — that thing I’ve seen!”

“I have been searching for you, Evans.” Voldemort hissed. “For years I searched, but you remained hidden to me, as I remained hidden to most. And yet, the moment I presented myself to you — what is left of me, mere shadow and vapor — you could see me, hear me. I was weak, but you could tell when I was near, could hear my demands and could not silence them.”

Why, Ariel wanted to scream, what are you, why is it me —

She forced herself to stand, stumbling backwards. She couldn’t feel her legs, couldn’t feel anything —

“Don’t be stupid, you foolish girl!” Voldemort’s face sneered. “Better to save your own life and come willingly, or you’ll meet the same end as your pathetic parents. They died begging me for mercy.”

Ariel felt her fear flake away, then. It burned and burned, just like the letter in the fire, until she was shaking with anger. “You’re a liar! My parents never would have lowered themselves to fear you.”

He smiled then, if it could be called that at all. The face appeared more contorted, more sinister, more evil. “How touching,” he hissed. “Yes, girl, your parents were brave. I killed your father first, and he put up quite a courageous fight —”

Ariel’s hands went numb, and she thought of the smiling face that had beamed up at her in her parent’s wedding photo. She thought of that same face set in grim determination as it stood between Voldemort and Mum —

“But your mother needn’t have died,” Voldemort continued, mercilessly. “She was only trying to protect you, and you are your mother’s legacy, after all — a legacy that will end similarly if you don’t give me that Stone in your pocket.”

She felt her insides sink, like a ship giving anchor.

Ariel slammed all of her weight into Quirrell and ran. She didn’t manage to get very far — he was on her in seconds, his hands grabbing a fistful of her robes. His palm collided with her cheek, sending her flying backwards. Ariel scrambled to her feet, but Quirrell was already on her, pinning down her wrists as she struggled to get back on her feet.

She was surprised, however, when Quirrell almost immediately let go. His hands began to blister before their eyes as he moaned in pain. “I can’t hold her, Master!” Quirrell howled.

“Seize her!” Voldemort screeched, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. “Seize her until I am finished with her!”

Ariel did not like the sound of that one bit. She clenched her teeth, darting upwards as she scanned the darkness for an exit, but she couldn’t see, couldn’t focus through the haze of pain and fear —

Quirrell lunged at her again, pinning her down as he shrieked in pain again. Ariel clamped her hands down around his wrists, squeezing as Quirrell got louder and louder, the pain in her scar building until they were both screaming. She let go of his wrists and pressed her hands against his face with every fiber of strength she had.

Please die, she thought, please stop just give up and die —

All of the sound left the room then, Quirrell’s howls and cries of pain cut short, like her head had been shoved underwater. It was the same exact feeling she’d had the first time she’d seen Voldemort in the Great Hall, only this time, she had this overwhelming feeling of hopelessness, as though all of a sudden, she shouldn’t be fighting Quirrell, not wanting him to die, but wanting to give in. Ariel was distantly aware these weren’t her thoughts, but she couldn’t focus, couldn’t pin down a sentence or even a word of her own.

Let me in, said a voice, and everything went — red.

This time was different. Voldemort hovered over her, and Ariel could feel that sinking cold enveloping her, his thoughts invading her own like vines, wrapping themselves around her until she could scarcely breath, until all she could do was scream. It was while she screamed that she thought of giving up, of letting go and surrendering unto the blackness again, like she had earlier as she’d sobbed against the stone. She couldn’t feel anything in the black, couldn’t remember why she’d been so upset, couldn’t remember all she’d lost and all she would lose, if she gave up.

She could feel Voldemort in her thoughts, and the more she thought about what she’d lost, she could feel him becoming angrier — he wanted to know what Mum had said, what was so important that Mum had Charmed a letter and left it in a trunk in Aunt Petunia’s attic, but Ariel couldn’t let him, because Snape —

he is without a doubt the fiercest man I have ever known

Ariel thought of the letter and of her mum. Both of them were gone, but Ariel could remember — she could remember her words and her handwriting, proof she had existed, that she had loved her and wanted her to be safe. It didn’t matter that Snape had burned it, because you couldn’t destroy the fact that her Mum had loved her, and that Ariel loved and missed her so badly that she felt it in her bones.

the waves too dark and deep to swim

She could feel Voldemort’s hold began to lessen, but his desperation grew —

as she fights hard against the tide

He clawed away at her mind, but he was losing his grip, because the more Ariel let go of Mum, the more she thought of what her love had done, what it was doing —

he swears a sacred vow that ever loved one keeps

That feeling burrowed through the fog, through the darkness and then black, until all she could see white — light blinding the room and filling her up up up —

takes one last breath

And then she was there — the woman in the mirror, only this time, Ariel knew who it was. She was smiling, so big and wide that it warmed Ariel all the way down to her toes, the cold fading away as the light did. The brighter it grew, the louder the screaming became, only it wasn’t Ariel screaming anymore. Whatever was making that noise — like a phantom being ripped from its haunting — it was getting louder, more desperate, like it had lived a thousand lifetimes for this moment, only to fail —

“It’s not us,” Ariel wheezed. “It’s you. It’s only you. I’m me, and you can’t tell me what to do.”

and leaps

And then her world exploded.

—————

it was the only thing I ever had

Someone was speaking, someone was telling him to slow down.

I’m all alone now

A voice was telling him to take a moment, to let him pass, to allow him to assist.

are you happy?

No, he was terrified, he was going to bring the castle down on himself and everyone else if something had happened to that girl, because they had all let her down, but he more than anyone.

is that what you wanted all this time?

Another voice was ordering the children back to the dormitory, where they would be safe, where she should have been. That was what he had wanted, for her to be safe.

I’m all alone now, she said — she was. She was all alone. Granger kept saying that — she was all alone, she needed them —

Severus was running.

—————

A sound ripped through the room, something like a roar of an injured animal.

Ariel forced herself to sit up, her scar searing her temple with white hot pain. When she reached a shaky hand to touch it, she found that she was bleeding. The fog had lifted though — she could see and hear clearly now, and someone was calling —

She could hear people shouting her name — Hermione and Ron — Hermione and Ron —

The next thing Ariel knew, she was on her hands and knees, trying to get to them, desperate and tired and still so scared. Everything was hazy, like early morning on a foggy day, or when Fred had stolen Percy’s glasses and let Ariel try them on.

Quirrell was on the ground, crawling towards the window where The Thing That Was Really Voldemort had fled through. “M-master — Master please, come back! D-don’t leave m-me!”

Ariel could hear the slap of boots against stone getting closer. Ariel tried to stand, but her legs felt like they were made of jelly, and her right arm felt like it had gone through a meat grinder. She tried to call out, to let them know she was here, but her voice had gone from her. The only sounds she could make were a few coughs, making her feel ten times worse.

That was when Quirrell noticed her, again. His eyes were red and crazed — not like Voldemort’s, but they were just as scary, but in a different way. She’d gotten the same feeling when Dudley had made up a lie to get her in trouble, and Aunt Petunia’s eyes had landed on her.

“Y-you,” he lifted an unsteady, accusing finger at her. “y-you little b-bitch! He’s abandoned m-me because of y-you!”

She tried to tell him that it wasn’t her fault that half of his skull was now missing, which was now all she could think about as she stared at him. It was like a crater had been dug behind where his turban had once been, blood and all sorts of things Ariel couldn’t make herself look at a mess on the floor. She balked, scrambling backwards, but he was on her in a flash, his hands around her throat —

Until he wasn’t, because the boots and the shouts had arrived, only the shouts didn’t reach her first. A burst of crimson light did, bathing the room in its glow as something shot forward, knocking Quirrell halfway across the room. Ariel coughed and sputtered, leaning forward just in time to see Snape rushing forward towards her. Her whole chest seemed to release with relief, that was, until she got a good look at his face. Ariel had seen him disappear inside himself before, but this was different. Snape’s face had gone blank, his black eyes somehow focused and unfocused at the same time, as though he were fighting a war from within.

As Ariel gasped for breath, she felt someone — two someone’s, actually — grabbing at her shoulders, pulling her upright. Hermione’s hair tickled at her face as she hugged her, could smell the violet bubble bath she used every night and hear her worried sobs asking if she was alright. Somewhere behind them she could hear Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, but their words were garbled and far away. Ariel gripped back at Ron and Hermione tightly, but when they pulled away, she wished that they hadn’t.

She found Snape just in time to see his boot go straight through Quirrell’s skull with a sickening crack.

Hermione made a noise that sounded a lot like choking, but when Ariel forced herself to look away from what was left of Quirrell’s face, she saw that she was gagging.

“What happened to him?” Ron stammered. “Why’s his head look like a smashed pumpkin?”

Ariel sucked in a deep breath — her throat was on fire. “It was Voldemort, he was living on the back of his head.”

“He what?”

“He wanted the Stone… and the letter too, but mostly the Stone. I think.”

At the sound of her voice, Snape’s head snapped towards them like a dog that had caught a rabbit’s scent. Before she could register what was happening, Ron and Hermione were gone, and Snape was kneeling in front of her. He leaned over her, and his eyes were empty, but she could see the light at the bottom hurtling towards her, like a bullet train racing towards its destination —

“Goddamn you,” he whispered. His hand gripped the nape of her neck.

Ariel had the strangest urge to laugh, but she didn’t. Instead, she looked at the light, and realized it had never been fear staring back at her, or hatred. It was sadness, maybe even grief, made up of light and gold, the same thing in her dreams and in her heart.

The last thing Ariel could remember was a heartbeat below her ear, and air rushing between her fingers.

——————

A/N: I’m sorry this chapter is months late and that I left you all on a particularly cruel cliffhanger. Something happened in my personal life that has taken quite a toll, and I haven’t been able to write an angsty chapter while dealing with being stressed/anxious myself. I am much better and I am okay, so please don’t worry :) I hope to be back more regularly soon.

Next chapter is the finale of Philosopher’s Stone; can Snape manage to muster together a good enough apology? Let’s find out! Also, many of your questions about the Smoke Monster will be answered, since Voldemort was about as helpful as a paper towel. I’d love to hear theories, though!

If you could leave a review, I will hoard them in my email and read them obsessively (jk, only a little bit)

Until next time — x

To be continued...
Chapter 21: lily: part ii by shostakobitch

Ariel awoke to the sound of someone swearing. At first, she thought she was still dreaming, but then something that sounded a whole lot like pots and pans crashing to the ground made her eyes shoot open.

“I will do no such fucking thing —”

“Whuzzat?” Ariel murmured blearily.

“Severus, you need to calm down.”

“Do not tell me what I need to do —”

“You’re going to wake her —”

There were more crashing and banging sounds that caused Ariel to sit up straight and glance warily at the white curtain that separated her from the chaos behind it. Looking around, she found that she was in the Hospital Wing, and that her arm was in a sling. She didn’t remember coming here, but she could remember the voices on the other side of the curtain rushing into the room, just as Quirrell —

Ariel felt her insides scramble as everything came rushing back at once. She could still smell the rot from the back of Quirrell’s head, feel her heart thumping away like a hammer against glass. Everything had happened so fast, but she’d stopped Voldemort from finding out what was in the letter, and from getting the Stone. The last thing she could remember was Snape’s bottomless black eyes leaning over her —

Snape — that’s who was doing all of the yelling. It was Snape, and —

The curtain parted, nearly scaring Ariel half to death, but to her relief, it was Professor Dumbledore.

His somber expression stretched into a smile as their eyes met. “Good afternoon, Ariel.”

Ariel wanted to cry, seeing him, wanted to tell him everything all at once, like how Voldemort had tried to rip the letter from her memories. The night she had sat in front of the Mirror, he had sat with her and talked with her like he’d known the secrets of her heart before she had. She wanted to ask him why Snape had burned the letter, and then come for her when he hated her —

“The Stone!” she blurted out. “I had the Stone in my pocket —”

Dumbledore drew the curtain back behind him, lifting a finger to his lips. “Calm yourself, dear girl, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out.”

“But —”

“The Stone is safe,” he sat himself at the edge of her bed and patted her hands comfortingly. “I’ve made sure of it.”

She could feel herself deflating with relief (again). Looking around, she found that she was alone, but the tables and empty gurney were covered in baskets of candy and flowers. She looked to Dumbledore in confusion, and he chuckled.

“Gifts from your friends. What happened between you and Quirrell is a secret, so naturally, the whole school knows. Miss Granger and Mr Weasley have been quite worried about you, though. They’ve been asking for you.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Three days,” said Dumbledore. “Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t let them in, insisting you needed your rest, but they’ve asked every chance they’ve got.”

Ariel’s heart squeezed in her chest, like it was trying to give her ribs a hug. “When can I see them?”

“Whenever Madam Pomfrey thinks you’re ready.”

“Why did she allow you in, then?” Ariel paused, realizing her question may have come off as rude. “Not that I didn’t want to see you, sir —”

His eyes twinkled. “I imagine you have some questions for me.”

She didn’t even know where to begin. She wanted to ask about the Stone — what had happened to it, was it safe? — and about Voldemort, how he’d been hounding her as the Smoke Monster but renting out the back of Quirrell’s head.

Instead, Ariel found herself asking, “Where’s Snape?”

The curtain pulled back again, but this time, it was so hard that some of the metal rings cracked off the rod. If Ariel had been paying more attention, she might’ve thought it was odd that Dumbledore didn’t turn around to see who it was.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Dumbledore gestured to the candy. “I’ve helped myself to some, but Severus seems to have accidentally set some on fire.”

Snape did not look… well. There were dark circles under his eyes that were so deep it looked like they’d been carved out with an ice-cream scooper. The sunlight streaming in from behind him made him look like he’d been peeled out of the shadows and stuck there. He looked so out of place that Ariel had to blink a few times to make sure he was real.

His eyes burned into hers like piping hot coals. It took every ounce of courage Ariel had not to look away, but even if she wanted to, she didn’t think she could. There was something wild and desperate in them — she had the suspicion that if she looked away first, something inside of them would shatter.

“Do join us, my friend.” Dumbledore said, still without looking behind him.

With that, he conjured a purple armchair, one that looked like it was made of satin and starlight. Snape stared at the chair like he wanted to put it in a chokehold, but after a moment, Ariel was surprised to see that he sat down on it. She tried to find her anger, to turn away from him and focus on what had happened in the room with the Mirror, but she couldn’t. All she felt now was a sort of hollow sadness. It wasn’t the feeling of loss, though, it was… something else.

“Is he gone, then?” Ariel asked quietly. “Voldemort?”

Dumbledore sighed deeply. “From the school, yes. Without a host, Voldemort is unable to stay within the castle as long as I am Headmaster, which he ultimately found a way around by sharing Quirrell’s body. I would suppose he would be looking for another suitable host in the meantime.”

“So that means he could come back?”

“It does,” Dumbledore said. “But that does not mean he will return in the same form.”

“I don’t understand,” Ariel shook her head. “why was I the only one who could see him, then?”

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and almost seemed to fiddle with his hands for a moment before looking at Snape. “Do you remember, my dear girl, when we found you at your aunts?”

Ariel blinked. “Of course I do, sir.”

“There was a reason you were left in their care,” Dumbledore said, and Ariel couldn’t help but notice that it seemed like he was ignoring the very pointed stare Snape was giving him. “It was for your own protection. You see, when your mother put herself between you and Voldemort, she left a mark on you, and if there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. To have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good.”

“But then why —”

Dumbledore held up a hand. “That protection was extended and reinforced by that love — it’s a sacrificial magic that cannot be broken. Your aunt shares your mother’s blood, and so by living under her roof as her own, that protection became binding — a binding that broke when you ran away, and your aunt readily accepted it.”

Ariel tried to digest all of this. “So… I saw him because I broke Mum’s magic?”

“You did not break it,” he said gently. “Not permanently, anyway. That’s where I’ve been, you see. I’ve just had a visit with your Aunt Petunia, and she has agreed to open her home to you once again.”

Something went clink, like when a rock had put a dent in Uncle Vernon’s windshield. Ariel’s eyes flickered to Snape, who she had done a pretty darn impressive job of not looking at, if she did say so herself. He was as still as a statue, his eyes trying to burn a hole into the stone floor. She was, however, quickly faced with the reality, that she was going to have to see Petunia’s miserable horse-face again, and listen to Dudley’s whining and bullying, all because of stupid Voldemort and his even stupider plan.

If she had been alone, she might’ve burst into tears. She thought about it, but when she accidentally looked at Snape, she saw that he looked like he was ready to do to Dumbledore magic-purple chair what he’d done to Aunt Petunia’s bathroom. How’d Dumbledore get her to take her back, after the mess they’d left?

“Why couldn’t anyone else see him?” Ariel asked quietly, not wanting to talk about the Dursleys. “Why was it just me and Quirrell?”

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “The first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today… not now. You will know, one day — put it from your mind for now, Ariel. When you are older — I know you hate to hear this — when you are ready, you will know. As for Quirrell, he was sharing a body with him, which means that when Voldemort became spirit once again, they shared a mind — a collective consciousness, if you will.”

She thought of Voldemort in her mind, in her head, in her thoughts and feelings and body, inside her magic and blood and nerves, and suppressed a shudder. “He had to live like that… every day?”

Dumbledore nodded. “He went down a path that many followed almost a decade ago. And even with Quirrell’s immense sacrifice, he left him to die. He shows his followers just as little mercy as he does his enemies.”

“But I didn’t invite Voldemort into my body like that. How did he make me pummel Malfoy if I didn’t let him in?”

Dumbledore sighed, and it was a tired sigh, the kind you gave after a long, hard day. “That was where I failed you, Ariel. It wasn’t until after Voldemort fled that I pieced together why he seemed to be growing stronger. You see, he was incredibly weak to begin with, having Quirrell resort to drinking unicorn blood to keep his master sustained. You, however, were providing him with a much different form of sustenance.”

Ariel’s head spun, trying to make sense of what Dumbledore was saying. “I never would have —”

“For Merlin’s sake,” Snape finally snapped, causing Ariel to nearly jump out of her skin. “stop speaking in riddles and tell the girl the damn truth.”

Dumbledore gave Snape a long, hard stare, one that was returned back without faltering. Ariel imagined that if she stood in-between them, she would probably go up in flames. She wondered what they’d been arguing about on the other side of the curtain, just before she’d woken up.

“Humor an old man, my dear girl,” Dumbledore finally said after a long, tense (and awkward) silence. “When you attacked Mr Malfoy, what were you feeling?”

Ariel thought back to that night — it was right after Hermione had returned from holiday break and told them she’d figured out who Nicholas Flamel was. Then she’d said that Voldemort might be the one after the Stone, and Ariel had been so overwhelmed by the thought she’d run out, not even able to think straight. Once Malfoy had started baiting her, it had set her over the edge —

She swallowed roughly. “I was angry that he was saying stuff about my parents, but right before then, Ron and Hermione were worried that someone might have been working for Voldemort on the inside. I — I wasn’t myself, but I could never explain why, but I didn’t mean to hurt Malfoy as badly as I did.”

“I know you didn’t,” Dumbledore reassured her. “but it was that perfect storm of events Voldemort had been waiting for. You see, pain and destruction and turmoil follow him wherever he goes. He leaves nothing good, nothing salvageable, in his wake. Those emotions, all of that anger and fear, made him stronger, and with the Blood Wards fallen, it was the perfect storm.”

She stared at him, stunned, feeling horribly used and guilty. It felt even worse than when Voldemort had been inside her mind, more of a violation.

“It all started after I found the letter,” Ariel whispered, mostly to herself. “I’d been so happy, but it made me confused and scared… that’s when the Smoke Monster — I mean Voldemort — that’s when he started showing up. And the other night, after —”

She stopped herself before she went on, but she felt all her confusion quickly melt away, the embers of anger stirring again. After Snape had burned the letter, that endless darkness had swallowed her up, and it was all because of —

Snape did not look at her. His hands dug into the arms of the chair, his back hunched, like every word she spoke was crushing him.

“Why’d he make me pummel Malfoy instead of taking me then?” Ariel asked tonelessly.

“I would wager it was a test, of sorts.” Dumbledore said slowly. “To see how much control he could exert over you.”

“Well it didn’t work,” Ariel muttered. “not even when he tried to find out what Mum’s letter said.”

“He will not be able to influence you like that ever again, if he were to return to power.” Dumbledore squeezed her hand. “I promise you that, Ariel. As long as the Blood Wards remain in place, you will be protected.”

Ariel felt her body swell with something powerful — it wasn’t rage, or sorrow, or guilt anymore. It was an emotion she had felt before, only she hadn’t realized it through the haze of adrenaline and panic.

“Good,” she said through her teeth. “even without the Blood Wards, it wouldn’t happen again, though.”

Dumbledore and Snape looked at her at the same time, their expressions mirroring each other.

“And why is that?” asked Dumbledore.

She looked him straight in the eye, then. “Because I won’t let him.”

————

It was late when the girl roused from sleep, finding Severus both exhausted and yet, still on a heightened sense of alert.

The emotional exhaustion far outweighed the physical one. After Dumbledore had told him the girl would have to go back Petunia’s, Severus had fucking lost it. He hadn’t cared either — normally he would have saved his outrage for when they were alone, but those risible Muggles, those sad excuses of people that were somehow related to Lily and her daughter were the last goddamn straw. The source of irony, however, was that Dumbledore seemed just as deeply unhappy with this development as Severus did. The difference was that Severus had begged for him to find an alternative way, but there was none, especially after he had told him how the Dark Lord had been using the girl. Then, all that had been left was soul-crushing guilt.

It was the only way she would be safe from something like this again. Sacrifices had to be made — Severus knew that better than anyone — but he would be damned if that girl suffered another fucking second, especially under Lily’s jealousy-ridden sister.

Her eyes were bright, like she’d been waiting for Pomfrey to leave for the night before waking. Severus stared back at her and wondered how it was that someone could be the perfect amalgam of two people; she looked so much like Lily, and yet, those eyes changed her face so much that it was impossible to pinpoint who she looked more alike. He wondered how he’d ever thought of her as Lily’s clone. It frightened him that this thought no longer bothered him, no longer burrowed into his every thought and made his heart heavy with guilt.

“Hello,” she whispered to him.

“It’s late,” Severus muttered. “go back to sleep.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. It's strange. I know he’s gone, but… I’m still afraid that Voldemort will be in my dreams.”

“That won’t happen, the Blood Wards have been reinstated.”

“I know,” her eyes lowered to the floor. “It's just a thought, that's all.”

Severus hesitated. “I can give you Dreamless Sleep —”

The girl shook her head. “No, I don’t want to sleep at all, really.”

“Your body needs sleep to heal.”

She made a face. “I feel fine.”

He wanted to tell her that she had almost fucking died in front of that Mirror, that if they’d been a minute or so later, there would’ve been two bodies taken from that damn room, but he couldn’t bring himself to give her any more misery. He had done enough — he had tried to protect her in the best way he knew he could, and it had almost killed her.

You’ve nearly killed your own child twice, now, whispered a cruel, dark voice. You’ve one job, and you’ve failed —

“You don’t have to stay, you know.” she whispered.

Severus didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t want to tell her that the thought of leaving her alone in the Hospital Wing was enough to give him heart palpitations. He didn’t want to tell her that the terror had not left him, that the image of Quirrell stalking towards her as her eyes — his eyes — had shone with relief the second she’d seen him haunted him every time he closed his eyes. He did not want to tell her that when he’d lifted her into his arms, it was like she fit perfectly there, like a piece of a puzzle he hadn’t realized was missing.

“I’m aware,” he said stiffly. “I don’t need you to reiterate.”

Her eyes darkened. “So then why don’t you go?”

“You know why.”

“I really don’t.”

I’m all alone

are you happy?

it was the only thing I’ve ever had

He didn’t answer her. She deserved every answer, every confession, every apology, but Severus would not give it, because if he did, that horrible voice inside him would grow louder and morph into a beast. The beast in the jungle that would taunt him endlessly, and he had spent years hunting it down, taking it apart limb by limb.

The girl huffed, annoyed with his lack of a response. She twisted her legs in the bedsheets, curling her knees to her chest. She stayed facing him, her black eyes glittering in the dark of the infirmary.

“Quirrell said something to me down there,” she finally said. “He said that you hated James. Did you?”

That motherfucker —

Severus’ eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what that human shitstain told you, but my utmost loathing of Potter has nothing to do with you.”

“Did it… when you still thought I was his?”

He wanted to lie, but he couldn’t — not to her, not anymore. “For a time.”

She grimaced. “What about Mum?”

“We’ve been over this,” Severus rubbed his face tiredly. “You know why I am here, Miss Evans.”

“I think you owe my answers to some of it,” she shot back. “especially after Voldemort tried rummaging around my brain like it was Mum’s old trunk. He thought Mum’s letter was to tell me about some special power I had. Too bad for him, I guess. He would have been disappointed, I think. The two of you have that in common I guess.”

He should have been expecting it — Dumbledore had called it a reckoning, but what the old man had failed to realize was that Severus’ reckoning had already come and gone. The girl handing him Lily’s letter to read himself had been his undoing. Everything he’d come to know, come to shroud himself in and hold around the tattered remains of his heart had been under a siege he had never anticipated.

The girl’s words caused something sharp to twist inside his chest. Severus didn’t have the ability to express remorse — he had never been remorseful, really, never been able to muster together empathy unless it pertained to Lily. She’d left him practically cut to ribbons after an argument, and he would have done anything to make it right. With their daughter, however, it was not only the need to make it right, but this pull, this desperation to make her pain stop, to find the source and rearrange its insides.

What was he to do when he was the cause? He had tried, he had tried so damn hard to make her see —

Her face twisted, like she was trying to keep herself from crying. If she did, Severus didn’t think he would be able to handle it.

“I didn’t think I could feel that rotten.” her voice was steady, but her eyes shimmered like a mirage. “Especially when… when You-Know-Who was inside my head. I didn’t even feel mad or sad or anything, I just felt empty, like everything had been sucked up and taken away. I thought for a minute that maybe that was better than feeling all the bad stuff, but he didn’t just take the bad stuff, it was the good too, but the emptiness made me forget about it, made me forget it was still there until it was almost too late. That’s how I got rid of him… he couldn’t take that away, not when I used it against him, I guess.”

Severus closed his eyes. “I should have better prepared you.”

“How was I supposed to fight him? He was a ghost when he wasn’t on the back of Quirrell’s stupid head.”

I could have taught you Occlumency, I could have taken you far away from here but you’re only a child, you’re only eleven years old —

“I could have done more,” said Severus. “we all could have.”

She lifted her head, and looked straight at him, as though he were having her on. For a moment, Severus wondered if she was looking straight through, if she would ever truly look at him again. He wouldn’t have blamed her, if she had told him to get out, to never speak to her again. He could go back to protecting her from afar — that was what had been his downfall, after all. Caring at all for the girl — and he did care, which was the terrifying, brilliant, realization he’d come to carrying her into the infirmary — was his blind spot.

A blind spot Dumbledore told him would be her greatest strength, and he had taken it from her.

Or so he thought.

“I forgive you,” she said. “I don’t blame you for what happened.”

Her words caught him completely by surprise, like an undertow sucking him beneath the otherwise calm surface of a river.

“It’s not your fault,” the girl went on, almost mercilessly. “You couldn’t have known Voldemort was using me like an all-you-can-eat buffet. I should’ve figured it out sooner, I mean, I was the one who was doing all of the feeling. I just thought it was some horrible coincidence… but even that’s sorta reaching. I never really connected the two. But anyway, I shouldn’t have had the letter on me, I should’ve given it to you or left it in Mum’s trunk or something. I just… I wanted you to know, I wanted you to know because I think Mum did, even if you don’t believe me, and I wanted a part of the Mirror that was still here.”

Severus could feel the edges of his vision shimmering, a feeling like a fist in his throat. He could feel that beast, that thing that was still caged and locked away tight lurking, begging to be set free so he could run and get away, get as far away from here as a he could, but something else was there too, something bigger and hungrier —

The girl frowned; her eyebrows knitted together in concern. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and crept toward him. “Are you —”

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him. She let out a gasp, but she did not look afraid, or repulsed, only…

Hope is the last thing ever lost, Dumbledore had told him.

“Do not think for a second you are in any way responsible for this.” Severus hissed. “I burned that letter, and I brought that pain. I should have never let you leave.”

She stared at him, her face inscrutable. “You were trying to protect me. You’ve only ever tried to protect me… even from you.”

Her fingers wrapped around his wrist. Her hand was ice cold, and where it touched his skin, it burned.

“I am not a good person, Miss Evans.” Severus finally said in a hard voice. “You don’t know the things I have done, the things I will continue to do to ensure that the Dark Lord does not rise to power again.”

She sighed and let go of his wrist. “I don’t understand what that means or why it matters.” 

“There was a reason your mother did not tell me that she was with child.”

“That’s because she Obliviated you —”

“No, Miss Evans,” Severus felt his fingers dig into his kneecaps. “That’s beside the point. I remember everything now, and she would not have told me.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “Why didn’t you tell me you got your memories back?”

“It doesn't matter, it changes nothing.”

“But — but you know now, you remember what happened!” she stopped suddenly, her eyes lowering themselves to the floor. “It still doesn’t change your mind at all then, huh?”

“Miss Evans —”

“Do you not want me because I survived, and Mum didn’t?”

He stared at her, speechless. She quirked an eyebrow at him, like she had asked him about the weather. The longer he pondered the ridiculousness of her question, the more Severus realized that her ease had come with contemplation. This had… not been the first time she’d asked it, maybe of him, but surely of herself. If Lily were here, she would have hung him by his fingernails for allowing her to think such a thing.

“It’s not a matter of what I want, Miss Evans,” Severus managed to strangle out. “though I have resigned myself to the fact that you are incapable of accepting no for an answer.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” she crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “Is that what it is? Or is it really because you think you’re a git?”

Severus rolled his eyes. “That is a gross understatement of the sentiment.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I do not blame you,” he forced out, the words sticking to his throat. “but you do not know what you ask.”

“I do!”

“No, you don’t.” Severus said sharply. “I have done nothing to warrant any sort —”

“You’re right, you haven’t!” she shot back, taking him by surprise. “You’re horrid to me and my friends, you ignored me for half the year until Quirrell sent that Bludger after me, and you —” she swallowed hard. “You burned Mum’s letter.”

Her eyes flashed dangerously. Severus stayed perfectly still.

She took a deep breath. “You’ve done good things too, though. No one is ever just bad, right? We’ve all got good and bad inside of us. I bet even You-Know-Who had some… maybe not anymore, but maybe deep down, he did once.”

“Most people die without ever confronting themselves in the darkness,” Severus paused. “the difference is that the Dark Lord uses that to his advantage.”

Her nightgown brushed against his legs. “Isn’t that the difference between you and someone like him, then? You’re sorry for it, aren’t you? That makes you a good person.”

You’re sorry for it, aren’t you?

There it was — a simple question. An open doorway. An invitation over an impossible threshold. The girl was wrong of course, Severus was in no way, shape, or form a good person — he would never be, after taking the Mark and devoting his life to two masters.

He could protect her from that side of him, though. If he could not cleave her from him, he would do what he could. He would do what she asked. He would do anything for her.

Severus took a steadying breath and said: “There is something your mother left you.”

————

The next day, Snape came and fetched Ariel from the infirmary, right as the sun rose and swept through the castle.

He hadn’t told them what he had to show her or where they were going, only that she should stay close. This was rather easy to do, since his hand did not leave her shoulder the entirety of the walk up to their destination, which turned out to be Dumbledore’s office. Once they were inside, Ariel strained her head, looking for Dumbledore, but Snape quickly shook his head at her.

“He’s at the Ministry,” he said stiffly. “Sorting out the mess Quirrell made.”

Ariel didn’t know what to say to that, so she didn’t say anything. She would have rather not talked about Quirrell for a long time, if she could help it, but she was sure Ron and Hermione were going to have questions when she finally saw them.

Snape motioned for her to follow him over to an oddly shaped bowl. It was wide and shallow, not like anything Ariel had ever seen before, but she could see something shimmering on the surface of the still thing that looked like water, just beyond her sightline. There were Runes engraved on the side of it (Hermione would’ve loved to see them) and what looked like precious stones set in each of the four corners of the basin.

Snape spoke before Ariel could ask what they were looking at. “This is a Pensive. It acts as a vessel for one to view memories… either their own, or someone else’s. Your mother left behind two; one was the last night we saw one another, and the other… Dumbledore has made quite clear that it was to be viewed by the both of us, when I deemed it appropriate.”

Ariel swallowed back the ten-billion questions she had. “How does it work?”

“You look inside of the Pensive, like submerging your face in sink water.”

“Won’t we drown?”

“No,” Snape looked like he was trying not to roll his eyes. “you won’t. It’s not really water, it only looks like it.”

“Oh,” she shifted uncomfortably. “Er, alright.”

He knelt down in front of her. “If you are not ready —”

“No!” Ariel blurted out, earning herself a skeptical look from Snape. “I’m ready, I’m just… what’s in the memory?”

He bowed his head. “That I do not know. The Headmaster only said that she wished for us to see it together.”

She gave a jerky nod and he stood. Following him closer to the Pensive, Ariel saw that it wasn’t really water, like he’d said, but wisps of what looked like smoke swirling around the rims. It reminded her of fog on a lake on a rainy day, or of a candle that had been just blown out, the embers still hot.

“Do as I do,” Snape said. “If you need to leave at any time, you will tell me.”

Ariel gulped and nodded. Her stomach churned with excitement and trepidation, in the most wonderful way. She watched as Snape leaned forward into the bowl, and she did the same, feeling herself being sucked forward, until she was falling — only it wasn’t really falling, because her feet were suddenly beneath her again, only the floor was different. She looked around and found Snape beside her. She was about to ask where they were, but his eyes were focused on something in front of them, something that took her a moment to see herself.

They were in a bedroom, one that was somehow familiar to Ariel, but she couldn’t place how. There was a large bed with a canopy, and a bassinet beside it. Outside, it was pouring, the rain slamming against the windowpanes. It shook the screens and threw the rain wildly, so much so that for a moment or so, all Ariel could concentrate on was the sound of it splattering across the roof above their heads.

Ariel noticed her when her head moved. Her hair was the color of wine, halfway down her back in thick waves. She wore a green turtleneck and Muggle jeans, and her socks were mismatched, just like how Ariel wore hers, because who had time to sort through socks anyway? She was standing, hunched over a dresser with a Mirror above it. All across the dresser were scraps of paper and tissues, Muggle pens and a quill that looked like it had seen better days.

“Mum?” Ariel croaked, her feet moving of their own volition. She crept forward, wanting to touch her, to hear her voice, to tell her everything and ask everything all at once.

Mum looked up into the mirror. There were tears in the corners of her eyes.

And then her reflection looked straight at them. Snape’s arm curved around her shoulders, but she was barely aware of it, staring hungrily into the mirror. She could’ve stared into this mirror — this distant memory of one from years ago — the same way she would have stared into the Mirror of Erised.

Mum lifted a hand, as though she were about to wave, but her fingers curled back, her hand falling back to the dresser. Mum smiled — a smile that was so sad, so earnest and genuine that it hurt to look at. Ariel’s heart felt like it was going to explode, but after a minute or so, she realized she had been holding her breath.

“I feel really bloody ridiculous right now,” Mum wiped her eyes. “You might never see this, but I’ve got to try, right? I’ve got to try and leave you both something so that you know I just didn’t…” she sucked in a deep breath. “I never wanted it to be like this, but I’m realizing that I don’t have much of a say in the matter, and I can’t help but feel like I’m running out of time.”

Ariel started towards her, but Snape quickly pulled her back. “She cannot see you,” he said, in a tight voice, like he was running out of air.

“I just… I need you to keep her safe.” Mum said in a voice that was strong, ringing through the air like something sharp hitting a slab of iron. It rang and rang and rang until Ariel’s ears began to hum to whatever note hung in the air. “I would ask if you understood, but I know you do. You have to make sure she’s alright — no, you have to do better than that. You owe her that, Sev.”

Sev? Ariel thought to herself, but her brain was milliseconds away from exploding, so she tucked that thought away for later.

“I don’t know why it’s us,” Mum went on, and her voice was growing steadier, stronger, firmer. “But if I’m not there, if James isn’t there, you have to be there for her. She’s the only damn thing I’ve done right, I’d like to think. Isn’t that crazy? Someone spun into existence literally in the blink of an eye, and she’s the best thing that’s happened to me. But you know that already, I bet.”

Mum turned, kneeling down in front of her. Ariel wondered how she knew she was standing there. Maybe the Pensive did. Maybe, somehow, Mum had too. Maybe she could feel Ariel, in the same way she did, in a place where spirit met the bone.

Her eyes were the color of holly leaves. Snape’s hand gripped at Ariel’s shoulder, and she couldn’t tell if he was trying to pull her away or keep himself upright.

“What dies doesn’t necessarily stay dead,” she said quietly, thickly, honestly. “I’ll be with you, no matter where you go.” She looked straight up, craning her neck so that she was looking at Snape. Ariel didn’t follow her gaze, she just stared into her face, trying to memorize every inch of it, trying to make herself feel Mum’s touch. “Be the person I know you are. I know you’re still in there, and if you’re here, I know you’re on your way back.”

Ariel’s cheeks were wet, just like Mum’s. She tried to move closer, to press her face against hers, but Snape was holding her back in an iron grip. She didn’t dare look up at him, not wanting to miss a second of Mum, wishing she could stop this moment and stay here forever.

“I love you both,” Mum said, and she began to fade

Don’t go, Ariel wanted to scream, wanted to beg and cry and shout until her throat went raw, Don’t leave me again —

They were back, the jolt of resurfacing knocking Ariel off her feet. She stared at the Pensive, wanting to go back, wanting to dive back in headfirst and watch over and over and over, but Snape was pulling her up, pulling her out of the fantasy, out of her dream and terrible longing.

His hand curled around her shoulder, his arm extended so that she was not next to him, but he was touching her, his arm a comforting weight around her. His other hand kneaded his forehead, like he had a terrible headache.

This Snape was different — it was the Snape that had hugged her in the alcove, the one Mum had called Sev.

“I get it now,” Ariel said, curling her hands around his cloak. “why you couldn’t talk about her.”

He said nothing but pulled her closer. He smelt of old shoes and teakwood. His breathing was ragged and shallow, but she could hear his heartbeat thumping away — resilient.

Ariel leaned her head against his side, and closed her eyes.

To be continued...
End Notes:

———

A/N: Lily’s reflection scene was the very first thing I wrote in this story. I loved writing that moment, and I think it brings about a completion to Ariel and Snape navigating a very hard and trying year. One of the biggest elements I wanted to explore was that instead of a Harry that looked up to James, there was a daughter who idolized Lily, and that chapter sort of closes this need here. It finally brings some sort of closure to Ariel, while finally opening up Snape to the possibility of assuming a more parental role. When one door closes, another door opens. That being said, these two have a long way to go. (Also, yes, Lily was the woman in the mirror Ariel has been dreaming about).

Next chapter will begin Chamber of Secrets.

Thank you to everyone who has given this story kudos, a review, subscribed, or even just been a silent follower. Your support for this story means the world; I know Snape and an OC are not popular subjects to write about in the HP fanfic realm, but I hope I’m doing this justice. Snape is an amazingly problematic character, so I thank you for trusting me with him when he’s been particularly awful.

Until next time! xx

Chapter 22: dog days are over by shostakobitch

Part II: The Chamber of Secrets

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“Is evil something you are? Or is it something you do?”

— Bret Easton Ellis

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Ariel crept out of Dudley’s second bedroom and listened for sounds of life.

The house had been still for a while, save for Uncle Vernon’s snoring. Sometimes, Aunt Petunia liked to wait right around the bend in the stairs and catch her out of bed, and Ariel couldn’t risk it tonight.

She peered back at Hedwig and motioned to the window. Hegwig was the lookout, and she was terrible at it. The most Ariel could get out of her was a fluff of her wings, or a particularly annoyed stare, especially when she hadn’t been let out for the night yet. Tonight, Hedwig gave her what Ariel could’ve sworn were a roll of the eyes, and a yawn.

Ariel saluted Hedwig, which earned her an annoyed coo, and cracked open the door.

She carried her sneakers in one hand, her wand in the other. Aunt Petunia hadn’t been able to find it — she’d tried, but Ariel had been hiding it in different spots every week, and as far as the Dursley’s knew, she was allowed to practice magic outside of school, which turned out to be wonderful leverage in getting them to leave her alone. Ariel would’ve paid a thousand galleons to see their reactions to their house after Snape and Dumbledore had rescued her, but she had a pretty good guess based on how they treated her now.

They were different — it wasn’t a better different, but it was far more preferable. The Dursleys simply acted like she didn’t exist. Dudley was the only one who ever really gave her the time of day, and that was only so he could try and mess with her to get her into trouble. Whenever Aunt Petunia was around, though, she wore a tight, pinched together expression, like it was taking every ounce of strength she had not to start screaming. There were times when she’d try and catch Ariel sneaking out, when she’d leave and throw some sort of stupid task at her to keep her from going, but as soon as she heard that crack of Apparition, she’d leave Ariel alone.

The coin she carried with her (when she didn’t accidentally put it through the wash) vibrated in her pocket.

“Are you alone?”

She pressed the coin against her lips and whispered, “Yes.”

There was no response, which was typical. Ariel tiptoed to the top of the stairs, craning her head down to see if anyone was there. Luckily, she heard the toilet flush from behind her, and since Uncle Vernon was already asleep, and the light from underneath Dudley’s door told her that he was up playing video games, she was in the clear. She crept down carefully, avoiding the step that squeaked.

Outside, the sky was purple and pink, the sun disappearing behind the trees that waved back at her. There was a light summer breeze, the smell of Aunt Petunia’s roses in the wind. Ariel gave the bushes a nasty look, not forgetting when she’d hidden behind them almost a year ago.

Ariel sat on the front steps and waited, rubbing the coin between her fingers. She had blisters from her cauldron — she wasn’t allowed to use wand magic, but she sure as hell could brew potions if she wanted to. The only problem was ingredients, so she’d taken to ransacking the garden when she got a chance. Usually Aunt Petunia didn’t notice, but she had begun to pick up on the smell, scouring about the house like a bloodhound. Luckily, Ariel had been using the attic to brew, and Aunt Petunia wouldn’t go up there, not after she’d found Mum’s trunk. Ariel had the suspicion that the Dursley’s thought it was haunted.

There was a sharp crack, and a strong rush of air. Ariel didn’t even jump — she was used to it by now.

He stood at the end of the drive, like he always did. Black robes, black hair, black eyes.

If Snape didn’t come around as often as he did, Ariel might’ve lost her mind by now. She hadn’t gotten a single letter from Ron or Hermione all summer, and while she could think of a whole bunch of reasons why they hadn’t written, she couldn’t help but wonder if everything that had happened this past year had been too much. She tried to tell herself that was stupid and silly, but she couldn’t shake the thought once it had crept inside her, sticking to the front of it like gum on a shoe.

Snape’s eyes locked onto hers, dark and intense, like he was waiting for something to happen. It never did though; Ariel often wondered if Snape was always in fight or flight mode, or if he just operated at a higher, more frenzied frequency than other people.

Ariel hurried over to him, pulling on her sneakers over her heels. “You’re late,” she gave him a pretend put-off look.

His expression was stone-cold. “I was unaware I was on a timetable.”

“I try to sneak out when Aunt Petunia’s in the shower.”

His eyes narrowed. “She’s not supposed to be making your life difficult.”

Ariel shrugged. “She usually ignores me.”

Snape made a short, quick sound of disapproval. His eyes flickered to the house behind him, still and silent.

He wasn’t allowed inside. It was one of Aunt Petunia’s rules, set on the day Ariel had returned from her first year. Snape had been the one to bring her back to Privet Drive, intent on making it known that he’d happily terrorize them if they set a toe out of line, and Aunt Petunia had gone round the bloody twist at the sight of him. Ariel had never heard her so angry, seen her so unhinged. Even Uncle Vernon had seemed more frightened of her than Snape, and he hadn’t really done anything — all he’d done was call her Tuney, and she’d lost it.

“I get to pick, then.” she announced. “Since you’re late, and all.”

He rolled his eyes. “Keep in mind, we won’t go far.”

“Don’t worry,” she started ahead of him. “I have a place in mind. It’s just around the corner.”

Snape growled, but his footfalls fell in time with hers. “You had better not be going on late night excursions when I’m not here.”

Ariel didn’t answer, which earned her a cross look from Snape. The shadows cut across his cheeks like a blade. If he knew about the makeshift ladder she’d made to climb out the window, he’d probably put bars on it.

“I thought you were coming earlier,” she said, ignoring the growing chill permeating from him. “That’s what you said last time, anyway.”

“There was a staff meeting that lasted longer than intended.” his tone implied that he was deeply annoyed about this.

She cocked her head up at him. “In the middle of the summer?”

His lip curled. “It was to discuss the new Defense professor.”

Ariel poked his arm. “Is it you?”

He glowered down at her. “It’s some rank fathead you won’t learn an ounce of anything worthwhile from.”

She tried not to laugh. “What’s his name?”

“Gilderoy Lockhart,” he said, and he somehow managed to make it sound like a curse.

“Is he a bigger fathead than Quirrell?”

“I believe Dumbledore was looking for someone who would be… harmless.” his nostrils flared, and in her mind’s eye, Ariel saw his boot going through Quirrell’s face. “Incidentally, he may have gone too far in the opposite direction.”

“You’d better check the back of his head anyway.” Ariel tried to smile, and it hurt a bit. “Just in case. We all thought Quirrell was harmless, too.”

She could have sworn his fingers grazed her shoulder, that he almost pulled her to a stop, that his steps did not fall in time with hers for a half a second. Instead, Snape didn’t say anything, but cleared his throat in a way that told Ariel he would have rather choked on what he wanted to actually say rather than say it aloud to her. That part of Snape hadn’t changed — there were still at least three different meanings behind everything he said, and half the time, Ariel couldn’t decipher them. He was, however, not nearly as nasty. Or perhaps he was, and Ariel had just grown thicker skin — it was hard to tell, especially when he was the only person she’d been able to have a conversation with since summer had started (besides Hedwig, of course, but Hedwig was an owl, and it wasn’t nearly the same thing).

“If Gilderoy Lockhart is an agent of the Dark Lord,” said Snape. “he will have reached a new low in his exile.”

Ariel turned on her heel so that she was walking backwards, facing him. “Why’s that? He can’t be that much of a numpty.”

“The man’s cape has glitter.”

She grinned. “Glitter’s fun.”

Snape curled his hand on her arm and turned her back around. “He’s a peacock — he struts about like he’s king of the castle, but there’s nothing of substance there.”

“Have you ever met him before?”

“No, thank Merlin.”

“Then why do you hate him so much?”

“I hate everyone.”

“Right, I forgot.” she smirked up at him.

Snape scowled in response. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that your destination is very clearly not around the corner.”

“It’s just up ahead,” she kicked a stone in front of her down the path. “I come here after dinner sometimes.”

He didn’t respond, and they walked in silence for a few minutes. The sounds of night began to creep out, the wind softly rustling the leaves and sending flower petals skirting across their path. Ariel watched Snape, who looked so out of place it was almost funny. He wore Muggle clothes when he came — still all in black — and like he was dressed for wintertime. The black turtleneck he always had on looked itchy and uncomfortable. He did not look at her, his eyes dark and intense, almost angry, but she could tell he wasn’t but the way he was walking. His hands were shoved inside his trousers like he didn’t know what to do with them.

Ariel gave the rock another kick — this time, straight off the path and into the grass.

Snape looked down at her, the sharpness in his eyes glinting like silver. “Have you been practicing?”

He meant the Occlumency. “Yes, every night.”

There had been long nights after Quirrell-Mort, ones where Ariel hadn’t been able to sleep. She did not dream of the woman in the mirror anymore, or of the Smoke Monster, but she did of the face on the back of Quirrell’s head and his hands around her throat. She’d run out of the batch of Dreamless Sleep Snape had given her within a week, and when she’d knocked on his door in the middle of the night, tired and desperate, he had taken her in. The Occlumency was the only thing that had helped, the only thing that kept her mind off of the guilt she carried with her for allowing herself to be used —

Snape didn’t look convinced. “And?”

She averted her eyes. “It’s been helping… not as much as the Dreamless Sleep, though.”

“Have you any more nightmares?”

She hesitated. “Not like I used to, no.”

He gave an annoyed huff. “But?”

“It just doesn't always work.”

“If it’s not working, it is because you are not doing it correctly.”

Ariel frowned. “I do what you’ve shown me —”

“Then there should be no issues.” Snape said sharply.

“It’s not that easy!” she protested, coming to a stop. “I can’t just clear my mind at the drop of a hat!”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I am suggesting.”

“Then why are you —” Ariel broke off, the frustration flaking away like embers in a fire when she happened to glance behind Snape. In the brush, no more than three feet behind him, were two large, tennis-ball sized eyes staring back at her.

She blinked, and they were gone. Ariel rubbed at her eyes, and wondered if she was starting to go mental, being cooped up with the Dursleys. Maybe it was doing something to her brain.

“What is it?” Snape demanded, his fingernails digging into her shoulder.

Ariel shook her head and sighed. “I thought I saw something.”

He scanned the bushes like he wanted to choke them. She started walking again, feeling ridiculous and small. Snape could still do that really well, even if it wasn’t always intentional. She’d been furious with him when she’d gotten her Potions marks back and only received an E. The Occlumency was different, though. Ariel felt like she had to do that well, if not to help herself, then to show Snape that she could.

It was a stupid thought, but Ariel couldn’t shake it. It weighed in the pit of her stomach like a rock, just like the lack of letters from her supposed best friends.

Snape caught up to her in what seemed like a few minutes but was probably a matter of seconds. Ariel knew this because the frustrated huff was suddenly right behind her, and not still trying to pick a fight with the bushes. She could feel him looming over her, like a raincloud.

The whole business with Quirrell and the letter had changed him, though. He was still mean, but not really mean, at least not to her. She supposed that coming to Privet Drive should be added to Nice Things Snape Did Now, as well as actually talking to her, and the Occlumency. They never talked about what had happened, though, and never once about Mum. Tonight was the first time Snape had mentioned her since they’d looked into the memory. She had to be here because of the Blood Wards, and Snape very clearly didn’t want her here, which begged the question of whether he would’ve taken her, if he could have. She was trying so hard to make it seem like everything was fine, but without hearing from her best friends, she was finding it harder and harder to keep her mind off of it.

The neighborhood playground came into view. Ariel suddenly felt incredibly stupid all over again, leading Snape all the way here.

Snape’s face twisted in revulsion when he caught sight of it. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dudley has a monopoly on this place.” she kicked at the sand. “They don’t let anyone else hang around here.”

He let out a very put-off sigh. Ariel shot him a defeated glare and marched away from him, grinding her teeth together. She’d had a lot of practice biting her tongue this summer — she was getting quite good at it, but it wasn’t fooling Snape, the same way it didn’t fool Aunt Petunia. The difference was that Snape got angrier, and Aunt Petunia waited with the same sort of twisted glee she’d shown when Ariel had run away.

She let herself fall onto one of the swings — her feet finally touched the ground. They hadn’t done that last summer. She’d grown, by how much, she didn’t know, but the Dursleys didn’t seem as large anymore. When she looked back to Snape, he was still on the other side, staring at the sand like a sinkhole would open any minute.

Ariel twisted the chain so that she was facing the other way. After a few seconds, she could feel him hunched over her again. He yanked the chain, and she spun back around. Her nose was inches away from his chest.

Snape stared at her, his black eyes bottomless and bright. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

She looked away, chewing the inside of her cheek.

Ron and Hermione don’t miss me and I miss them so much it hurts

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m trying to do what you taught me —”

“You know that’s not what I’m asking,” he waved at her dismissively, like a fly.

She glared mutinously at him. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

He made a sound of pure exasperation. He let go of the chain, and the swing sung back, the shadows from the streetlights bouncing across his face. It wasn’t doing any favors for his nose, the angle making him look like a hawk.

Ariel was quiet for a moment. “I just… I hate it here.”

His head jerked sharply. “If they have done something —”

“No, they’ve been fine,” she shook her head and sighed. “I just miss Hogwarts, is all. It’s so boring here.”

“You might learn to enjoy boring,” he leaned against the pole, shoving his hands inside his pockets. “after the year you’ve had.”

She kicked at the sand. “You don’t have to live with those pricks.”

“I would not be living with them if we were forced to inhabit the same space.”

Ariel snorted. Her breath caught, catching her off guard and she gripped hard at the chain, mortified. She clenched her jaw and tried to focus on the air moving through her hair and the last shred of sunset glinting off the slide. For a split second she could’ve sworn she saw that pair of green eyes peering around the slide again, but when she blinked, they were gone, and Snape was bending down.

“Look at me,” he murmured. She could feel his breath across her forehead.

She turned away, not meeting his eyes. If she did, he would Look, and she didn’t want him to know how miserable she was here sometimes, how hard it was to go days and days without talking to anyone, not hearing from her friends. He’d told her when he’d left her here that first night that if he was too much that he would take her away, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask him that. She didn’t know why.

Black met black. She could feel him there, everywhere, in that space between colors and memory. In the distance, she could see the pinprick of light he’d told her to always focus on.

His voice was low and soft, like a lullaby. “We’re going to go where everybody knows,”

Ariel closed her eyes, and the ocean spread out before her, deep and blue and choppy. The foam sprayed upwards towards the sky, but where the sea met the sky, she could see the sun peeking through the clouds. Snape had told her it was different for every Occlumens, but he visualized an ocean, and that was what she used, too.

She let her worries fall below the waves, sheathing off of her like sheets of ice off an iceberg, letting them fall into the cold water below. The sunlight filtered through the clouds — she could feel her sadness and resentment falling deeper and deeper, far from the surface, far from her. The water began to calm, and the summer breeze tussled her hair, and she could feel her lungs expand and her heartbeat, her nerves tingle in her fingers and toes. She was grounded — not in the water with things she wanted to forget, but here, in this moment.

“Better?”

She nodded. Her chest felt lighter, spacious, and yet, somehow full. It was never this easy when she did it by herself — only with him. She didn’t know why.

“Well done.”

His words nestled under Ariel’s heart. When she opened her eyes again, Snape was by the slide, leaning against it with his hands tucked under his arms. His expression was faraway, like she’d left him on the beach. She suddenly felt very guilty for getting as cross as she had with him. After all, it wasn’t his fault she stuck here with the Dursleys. He came to check on her — no one else had, not even Hermione or Ron.

“It’s a good thing you came today and not tomorrow.” Ariel said.

He quirked an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

“There’s some big fancy business dinner they’re hosting tomorrow,” she propelled herself forward a little. “Uncle Vernon’s got a script we’ve all got to follow — literally, he’s gotten it written up and everything, even down to what they’re wearing.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “Your aunt was a freak of nature with order — it’s not surprising she married someone with the same mentality.”

“And I’ve got to sit in my room all night and pretend I don’t exist.” Ariel made a face. “I’m going to die of boredom.”

“And she will die ordinary,” he muttered. “as is her greatest fear.”

She peered up at him. “I thought magic was her greatest fear?”

“She cannot have it, and so she despises it. Her hatred lies with herself more than you or your mother.”

Ariel considered this. “Was she always like this?”

“Not at first, no.”

“What changed?”

“Her ability to look past her jealousy.”

Ariel wondered if that was why Aunt Petunia couldn’t look at her. She never met her eyes — if she did, she’d always appear startled, like she was seeing something that wasn’t really there. Hermione had pointed out her resemblance to her mum when they’d gone through her mother’s chest, but Ariel didn’t see it. Maybe Aunt Petunia saw it, too.

Ariel stood up from the swing. “When will you be back?” she asked, hoping it would be sooner than she expected. Her hope was quickly squashed when Snape averted his eyes, glaring in the direction of the house.

“It will be a bit longer this time.”

Her face fell. “How much longer?”

“A week.”

“A week?” she bleated. “Why?”

“There’s some business I need to take care of.”

She could feel all hope, everything that was propelling here towards the end of the summer starting to crumble. “What am I supposed to do for a week?”

“Your summer work,” his eyes flashed. “I doubt you’ve started it.”

Little flecks of annoyance dug into her. “I already did your reading, if that’s what you’re after.”

“We’ll see,” he said shiftily. “You still have your other classes, in the meantime.”

She scowled and crossed her arms. “You owe me big time when you come back.”

Snape’s mouth twitched in a strange way, then. “As you wish.”

Ariel figured that meant Snape-Speak for yes, which was good enough for her. For a split second, she thought about grilling him about where he was going, but Snape was good at lying, and even better at shutting down a conversation… and Ariel didn’t want to argue anymore. She wanted to walk the road back to the house and ask about Hogwarts, about the new Defense professor.

And so they did.

When they reached Privet Drive, Snape flicked his wand, and the light in her bedroom came on. He watched the house, as if he were waiting for it to say something, or rather, for someone to come out, but they never did. Ariel knew for a fact Aunt Petunia was terrified that the neighbors would see him and ask her about it.

Ariel tried to ignore the tightness in her chest. She didn’t want him to leave. “See you soon?”

“If you must.”

He said the same thing, every time. She cracked a smile and waved, heading up towards the house.

She watched him Apparate, watched the shadows suck him up, and she wished that it would have its own gravity and pull her in too, pull her back into a world of magic and Hogwarts, a world she missed so terribly.

Ariel sighed, not wanting to return to her room just yet. She’d lie there and stare at the ceiling and drive herself mad, thinking of what Snape did when he wasn’t here. He hadn’t told her he would be coming to visit, but Ariel got the feeling that he came out of obligation more than actually wanting to see her.

Because Mum told him, she thought. Mum told him to take care of me. She told him to be better.

Ariel wondered a lot about what that meant — how much worse had Snape been before her Mum had died? He couldn’t have been that bad if…

What had he done to drive her away?

He’ll be missing my birthday, whispered a sad voice, faraway and hollow.

She went still — her birthday was tomorrow.

Ariel sat down on the stoop, the tranquil sea now rough and choppy. She could think of only one thing to say — a word she’d learned from Snape.

Her head hit the back of the door. “Shit.”

——————

The next morning, Aunt Petunia greeted Ariel with a mop.

She was awoken by the manic banging of pots and pans, and the sound of Uncle Vernon’s thundering footsteps frantically running about the house. Dudley was whining, probably about the racket that had woken him up too, but it stopped the moment Ariel stepped into the kitchen. He always overplayed the charm when Ariel was around — somehow, it made Aunt Petunia act like she hated Ariel even more, as if somehow, Ariel’s horribleness took away from Dudley in some bizarre way.

The smell of something marinating wafted through the downstairs. Before she headed down, she threw her overalls in the wash once she was certain Aunt Petunia wasn’t using it. She instantly heard the clangclangclang of something hard inside the barrel, silently cursing herself for forgetting to take the coin out of her pocket again.

From the hallway outside the kitchen, Ariel spotted the sad and undoubtedly already cold eggs Aunt Petunia left them for her every morning. Normally, Ariel waited until breakfast was over to come down and eat herself, but this morning, the kitchen was now listed under Places Ariel Shouldn’t Be.

Ariel marched in, not looking at any of them. The plate was just within her reach when suddenly, Aunt Petunia was wordlessly shoving a mop in her face

No acknowledgment of her birthday — not that she’d expected it. If she hadn’t gotten one from Ron or Hermione, she sure as hell wasn’t going to get one from her magic-hating relatives.

Ariel gritted her teeth and took it from her. “Where?”

“Kitchen,” Aunt Petunia said, waving her off with a dismissive hand.

When she turned her back, Ariel made a face at her and let the mop hit the floor with a loud smack. She ignored the look of outrage from Aunt Petunia, focusing on trying to scoop out a hole in her stupid linoleum.

“This could well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career,” Uncle Vernon was telling Dudley. “I think we should run through the schedule one more time. We should all be in position at eight o’clock. Petunia, you will be?”

“In the lounge,” said Aunt Petunia, and Ariel, who mouthed along every word. “Waiting to welcome them graciously into our home.”

“And Dudley?”

“I’ll be waiting to open the door,” Dudley said in a sickly-sweet voice. “‘May I take your coats, Mr and Mrs Mason?”

Ariel coughed, trying to cover up her laughter. Aunt Petunia’s head snapped up, her glare vicious, like a rabid dog that had caught a rabbit’s scent. She shot a look at Uncle Vernon, who’s mustache twitched, like he was the rabbit.

“You,” Uncle Vernon grouched, turning his beady eyes on Ariel. “Come here, girl.”

She exhaled through her nose and walked over. “Yes?”

“And what will you be doing during dinner?”

“I’ll be in my room, pretending I don’t exist.”

“Excellent.” he wagged his fingers at her. “This is the important business deal of my life. I won’t have you or your nonsense ruining it. Am I clear?”

“Crystal.” she said flatly. She held out the mop to Aunt Petunia. “Just like the floor.”

Aunt Petunia scoffed. “You’ve barely been at it for two minutes.”

“I think Professor Snape would agree with me.”

She could’ve heard a pin drop. Even Dudley’s smile had disappeared, like he knew Ariel had crossed a line. She didn’t care — it was her birthday, and she was here all alone, confined to her room and not able to use magic or talk to her friends. Even Snape had abandoned her.

“Get out of my sight,” Aunt Petunia hissed. She wretched the mop from her hands like a stolen relic.

“Gladly,” Ariel said under her breath, turning on her heel.

She stomped up the stairs and slammed the door to Dudley’s second bedroom.

—----------

Around two o’clock, Ariel heard a new sound. She’d been cataloging them as the day went on, from the sounds of Aunt Petunia cleaning and Dudley banging around in his room on his computer. Uncle Vernon had been out, running errands, but he was home now, ironing his tuxedo even though he’d had it dry-cleaned. She’d read a chapter of Lord of the Rings, but she couldn’t even remember what she’d read, because the whole time she’d been wondering when her Samwise had decided that she didn’t need her anymore.

She wondered what Snape was up to. She wondered if she had hounded him if he would’ve told her. He never talked about what he did during the summer, but sometimes, he told her about what was happening at Hogwarts, which meant he must be there pretty often. Last time, he’d brought a letter Hagrid had written to her — it had only said something about a new litter of chimaera had been born, and that he hoped she was doing alright with the Muggles. It had been hard to read, even Snape hadn’t been able to decipher half of it.

The new sound was a car pulling into the driveway — it couldn’t be the Masons, though. They weren’t coming until dinnertime, and it wasn’t even close to noon. Two people got out of the front, much younger than Uncle Vernon had described. Ariel watched, confused, until she saw another person get out, a familiar bushel of brown hair all she could see from here, but she knew exactly who it was.

It was Hermione —

HERMIONE —

Hermione was HERE —

Ariel jumped from the bed and nearly fell flat on her face. She skidded around the corner, flung open the door and took the stairs three steps at a time. Unfortunately, Aunt Petunia had beaten her to it. She was frazzled, calling for Uncle Vernon, but when she opened the door, her nervousness quickly turned to confusion when she saw Hermione. She didn’t even notice Ariel bounding down the stairs until she missed the last step and smacked right into her boney frame.

“I’m sorry —” Aunt Petunia apologized, shoving Ariel behind her. She threw her a horrid look, pushing out a “what is WRONG with you?” to Ariel before fixing her hair and smiling at the Grangers. “How may I help you?’

“Caroline Granger,” Hermione’s mum held out her hand. “And this is my husband, Roy and our daughter Hermione. Our girls go to school together.”

Hermione beamed at her, but she eyed the threshold like it were a portal to another world. Ariel didn’t blame her, but she waved back, wanting more than anything to rush forward and hug her, but now wasn’t the time.

Aunt Petunia blinked, like she’d had a flashlight shined in her eyes. “Ah —”

“We’re sorry for showing up on short notice, but Hermione didn’t have Ariel’s phone number, and we didn’t know how else to reach you.”

“I — see,” Aunt Petunia forced out. “Well I apologize for my niece's thoughtlessness —”

“There’s no need for that,” Mrs Granger’s voice took on a new tone, one that was suddenly much chillier. “We didn't see you at King Cross to pick Ariel up back in June. Ariel said a chaperone from school would be bringing her home since you couldn’t make the trip.”

Aunt Petunia threw daggers at Ariel from the corner of her eye. “Yes, we had a previous engagement. We sent money for her to take the train —”

“An eleven-year-old, taking the train by herself?”

The silence was deafening. Ariel hid her smile behind her hands. Aunt Petunia must’ve had X-ray vision, because the look she gave her should’ve made her skin peel off.

“Hermione has been quite worried, you see. Ariel hasn’t returned any of her letters, and she hasn’t been receiving any either.”

“I’ve written to you every day!” Ariel said, frowning. “You didn’t get any of them?”

Hermione shook her head. “I thought something was wrong. I begged Mum and Dad to drive here to make sure you were okay. I would’ve come earlier, but we went to the Maldives for a few weeks. Ron said he hadn’t heard anything either — he’s asked us to stay with him before term starts.”

“Well regardless,” Miss Granger motioned to her, as though beckoning her forward. “We'd love for Ariel to come and stay with us until then.”

Ariel’s heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. She stared up at Aunt Petunia, whose mouth was set in a tight line. She was so rigid it was a wonder she didn’t snap in two.

“Until term?” she asked slowly. “For the rest of the summer, you mean?”

Mrs. Granger nodded. “We’ll take her for her school things and to Kings Cross as well, of course.”

Aunt Petunia opened her mouth to speak, but Ariel didn’t want to give her the chance.

“I’ll go get my things!” she blurted out. “Give me two minutes!”

She didn’t even bother looking back to see her aunt’s reaction. She took the stairs three at a time again, and glided down the hallway, nearly taking another spill in her socks. Hedwig cocked her head at her as Ariel threw open her closet, throwing in her clothes, not bothering to look to see what she was packing. Her school trunk had barely been touched, and all she had to do was pack the pictures and her books, and she’d been out of here, she’d been leaving —

“What did you do?”

Aunt Petunia’s voice came from the doorway, brittle and cold, like ice on a pond. Ariel whirled around, slamming the trunk shut. “I didn’t do anything.”

“What did you tell them? That we’ve been keeping you from your freak friends? Spreading lies?”

“I haven’t heard from Hermione all summer,” she said coolly. “she hasn’t replied to any of my letters. She just told you.”  

“You never sent any letters.”

She lifted her chin. “Not through Muggle mail.”

Aunt Petunia’s eyes narrowed. “You were told not to use the bird. I told Vernon we should have put a lock on that cage.”

“You have no right —”

“I have every right, you ungrateful girl!” she snapped. “You live in my house, after what those freaks did to us last summer. You have no idea what we have been through, the sleepless nights —”

“My mum went through plenty of those, I reckon.” Ariel shot back. “Seeing as she was murdered and not killed in a car crash, like you told me. Or was that because you were scared, too? Scared of me knowing the truth?”

Aunt Petunia’s face changed, then. For a moment, she looked almost pained, like Ariel’s words had struck her somewhere deep. It was quickly replaced by the uncaring, cold mask that she’d known for as far back as she could remember.

“You’re just like her,” she hissed, and it was a dangerous sound, like snakes in grass. “Entitled, spoiled, flouncing around as if you’re God’s gift to humanity. She used to roam around Cokeworth the same way, stringing along that awful boy.”

Ariel stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

“That awful boy — he’s grown into an even uglier man. You think I don’t see you running off with him? Oh, I see you, girl. You have no idea the game he’s playing with you.”

A gnawing feeling, like she was dancing around something dark, took hold in the pit of her stomach. Ariel didn’t answer but ignored her and continued packing.

“Your mother told me to stay away from him,” Aunt Petunia sneered. “I guess he finally fell out of her good graces after all those years. You’re nothing to him, you know. You look just like her, I’m sure he loves that… I’m sure he feels rather lucky.”

Ariel felt her stomach squirm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He didn’t say he knew her?” Aunt Petunia smirked. “I’m not surprised.”

She hesitated. “He did —”

“Unashamed of what he’s doing then, is he?” she spat, her face twisted in revulsion. “I’d bet your mother would be turning over in her grave if she knew — but she walked that thin line, too, until he did something that was too far, and she lost her favorite pet.”

Ariel felt her face flame in anger. “You don’t know anything about my mum.”

“I knew her better than you ever will!”

The words cut at her like an arrow, but she shoved her socks into her trunk. Looking around her room, she’d gotten everything, except for Hedwig, who was giving them both a peevish look, as if the whole argument was outlandish.

Ariel grabbed her trunk, and Hedwig’s cage. She hooted in protest as the cage swung. Ariel adjusted so that she was more stable, and when she looked back to the doorway, Aunt Petunia was gone.

Once downstairs, Mr Granger helped Ariel put her things in the car, and Hermione hugged her, already asking if she’d started her assignments, and handing her the letters Ron had written her, asking if she’d heard from Ariel and that they were worried. The space in Ariel’s heart that had begun to grow since summer had started, a space as vast as the one between starts, disappeared, like it had never been there.

She wondered if she should go back inside and say goodbye, but when she went to the door, she found that the Dursley’s had already locked it.

Ariel was feeling quite good about herself as she climbed into Hermione’s parents’ car, watching Privet Drive turn into a tiny dot in the distance as they drove away.

To be continued...
Chapter 23: twelve by shostakobitch

Severus found Dumbledore pretending to be foraging. It was not the most unusual of places to find him, but it had taken an entire morning of scouring the castle that by the time Severus did venture out into the Forest, he was in a fouler mood than usual.

“Take a look at these, won’t you?” Dumbledore greeted him with a handful of dittany. “I fear the wildlife may have gotten to it before I could.”

His robes were the color of the dittany, gold woven into the sleeves and collar. If not for the white beard, Severus would have easily missed him amongst the trees.

They did not speak often, and for that, Severus was responsible. He hadn’t been able to sit and talk with him about anything without his resentment boiling to the surface. This past year had left a sour taste in his mouth, one he couldn’t scrub out. He had thought checking on the girl as often as he did would help, but it left him feeling worse every time. The look in Miss Evan’s eyes told him that she was unhappy, but Severus could have given a damn about her happiness — it was Petunia that made his molars ache, making his bloodreallybegin to boil. To leave the girl there with those human shitstains was nearly agony.

“It’s too late in the season,” Severus said, without looking at it. “Its potency will be greatly reduced.”

Dumbledore sighed, but smiled in a way that told him this wasn’t the first time he’d heard this. “Which is why I’m trying to gather as much as I can.”

“I have plenty in my storeroom,” Severus said, annoyed. “I don’t know why you’re wasting your time when you know as well as I do that this is pointless.”

“You know I like my ingredients fresh, my boy.”

“Unless they are out of season, inwhichcase —”

“Fawkes had a fall this morning,” Dumbledore said, almost offhandedly. “I knew you were out and about, and decided I would try my luck out here.”

The bird looked like it was being held together by sheer willpower, these days. “His burning day is surely near. Dittany won’t do much good.”

“Gilderoy swears by it,” Dumbledore said cheerfully.

Severus ground his teeth together. “Anyone with more than three brain cells would know dittany is usefulonlyfor shallow wounds.”

“I’m sure the two of you will have a great deal to discuss. You do love a good debate.”

“I would rather rip out my fingernails.” his eyes narrowed. “You know this. Why are you wasting my time with pointless questions?”

Dumbledore shuffled towards a patch of dandelions where basket sat; it was only a third full, and the dittany was wilted. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Severus blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Well, I would imagine that you’re not here to debate the viability of the local vegetation with me.”

His jaw set with aclick.“As endearing as this conversation is, I am rather busy —”

“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore said mildly. “Albania is beautiful this time of year, isn’t it?”

Severus felt the blood pumping in his ears. He shouldn’t have been surprised Dumbledore knew, even if Severus was traveling illegally. He had been back and forth to Albania, trying to retrace Quirrell’s steps. He hadn’t found any trace of the Dark Lord, but he had talked to the locals, heard legends of a dark spirit that had wandered the wilderness for years.

“Tom is no fool,” Dumbledore said, as though he’d read Severus’ mind. “He would not return to an old hiding place.”

“Obviously,” Severus muttered. “but if there was any indication —”

“He will leave none. That was our biggest hardship during the war, but you recall that, don’t you?”

He did. The Order had been losing —badly— before Severus had deflected. He recalled searching for Lily every battle, checking on the flat she’d been living in just outside of London. Once she’d married Potter, though, he’d stopped, until he’d gone to Dumbledore himself and begged him to hide her.

It was thoughts such as these that brought up the memories Lily had left behind for him. He often wondered about what had happened the morning after, wondered how wrong things must have gone for Severus to tell Lily to Obliviate him, to wash his hands of the memory. Maybe he had insisted on it to protect her; maybe he had been scorned. Maybe Lily had lied and had realized she’d made a terrible mistake. Each thought seemed more and more unlikely, since she’d kept them hidden for their daughter to find someday. It also begged the question of when that trunk had been intended for Miss Evans. Severus wondered if it had been intended at all, or if Lily had changed her mind before she had died.

He would never know — all he had were memories and promises left, promises he intended to keep.

“Far be it from you not to leave every stone unturned.” Severus said stiffly.

“For what?” Dumbledore asked, this time, in a far different tone. It rang straight through him, like a siren. “Confirmation? Or revenge?”

He thought about ripping out the Dark Lord’s bowles through his nose — he thought of the spells he would use, of how he would break him apart from the inside out. That process invaded his waking thoughts when he least expected it. The fact might have disturbed him, had he not had several very good reasons for dismembering the Dark Lord limb by limb.

“He doesn’t deserve the choice,” Severus said, so low, he thought Dumbledore might not have heard it.

“You may be right,” said Dumbledore. “but that is not for you to decide. We will need you, after all.”

Do you swear to yourself, Severus? Do you swear your mind, your soul?

And what will you give in return?

“Come,” Dumbledore gestured to the path behind them. “Let us walk. You came to discuss Ariel, yes?”

The girl.

There’s nothing wrong with me

I hate it here

Severus had felt like an imbecile after their last visit. Truth be told, he felt completely out of his fucking depth with Miss Evans. He couldn’t tell if his weekly visits were a detriment or not. He hadn’t been able to leave her with Petunia unchecked — not again — but it was clear that Miss Evans was miserable. It shouldn’t have bothered him, the girl’s unhappiness, but it did. Every time she thought he wasn’t looking, there was that unhappiness set in her face, the hand wringing in her shirt, the knee wobbling nervously. Something nagging deep within him told him it was his responsibility, but Severus didn’t know what the hell to do about it. Damn the girl’s happiness, if it meant she was safe. That was all that mattered to him, anyways — he could not let what had happened last winter happen again.

The most frustrating part was that the girl was lying to him. Severus had seen it inside her head — he hadn’t taught her how to Block yet, and even then, the girl was a terrible liar. She missed her friends and Hogwarts, and while he had tried not to search, he had found that one, desperate thought Miss Evans would never have told him.

I want to leave with you

It had explained the moodiness, but she was also entering that prepubescent phase, the one that made Severus want to gouge out his eyes with a spoon. All of the little nitwits went through it at one point or another, so it shouldn’t have surprised Severus that his own daughter would, too.

He felt the weight of his role far too often now, though. It pushed against him like a riptide, to the point where if he was not in her general vicinity, he felt like he was going mad, wondering if she was hiding more, wondering if she would try and run away again, like she had last summer. The thought of her jumping out of that damn window again gave him a twitch.

Which was why Severus was going to get her out of that Muggle hell.

“I want her out of that miserable place,” Severus said, managing to successfully keep his voice devoid of emotion. “She’s had enough — it’s been a month.”

Dumbledore bent down, pulling at the ground and brushing aside the weeds. “I leave that up to your discretion.”

“I wasn’t asking for your permission.”

Dumbledore didn’t so much as blink. It was at moments like these when Severus was reminded that Dumbledore was just as much of a gifted Occlumens as the Dark Lord. “And where will you bring her?”

“Here,” said Severus. “obviously.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “And who will watch over her?”

“I will,” he said stiffly. “Until other arrangements can be made. You assured me that the Weasley’s had extended their home to her.”

“I will reach out to Molly,” he paused. “If you want me too, that is.”

Severus’ eyes narrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m sure Ariel would find the castle to be as hospitable as the Burrow.”

“I am far too busy to keep the girl entertained for the remainder of the holiday.”

“Ah yes, of course.” Dumbledore smiled, and Severus could have sworn the twinkle in his eye held a glimmer of mischief. “With your travels.”

Severus stiffened. “It will raise too many questions —“

“Pomona doesn’t return until the last week of August.”

He sighed heavily. “Why do you insist on sharing unwarranted opinions?”

“A fine birthday gift, I would think,” Dumbledore said wistfully, as though it were an afterthought.

Severus began to stalk away. “Goodbye, Albus.”

“Do send her my regards,” Dumbledore called after him, dumping the basket of dittany to the forest floor. Severus ignored him and began his trek back to the castle to Apparate to Petunia’s.

As he left, he could not shake the feeling that Dumbledore had known he was coming. Then again, it was very rare to catch the old man by surprise, but there was something else, something that lingered like a cough, something stuck in the back of his brain that he couldn’t peel away. The feeling that somehow, some way, Dumbledore knew something that Severus did not about the girl.

He had a feeling he did not want to know what it was.

—----------

The Grangers decided to stop for dinner on the way home, at some little seafood restaurant along the coast. Ariel was starving by then, but she couldn’t tell if it was really hunger or nausea. The second the chatty waitress with the blue hair had brought their food, Ariel felt her stomach heave.

Ariel was so on edge about Snape bursting down the door and murdering Hermione’s parents that she could barely touch her dinner — Mrs Granger (who had insisted Ariel call her Caroline) had gently assured her that if she wasn’t hungry that she shouldn’t eat, but she kept exchanging odd glances with Mr Granger. They were the same sort of looks Mr and Mrs Weasley had shared when Ariel had stayed with them last summer, when Ariel told them she only had two sets of jumpers.

Hermione was mercifully talking about school, where Ariel could manage to contribute without scrambling to keep up with the conversation. They hadn’t brought up the Dursleys since they’d left. Ariel wondered what Snape would do to them when they found out they'd just let her go. They’d never talked about if Ariel would be allowed to go to Ron’s, and she certainly hadn’t been expecting Hermione to show up, and she had a feeling Snape wouldn’t be very understanding.

“I thought Professor Dumbledore was awfully generous,” Hermione was saying. “I know for a fact Ron didn’t hand in the last essay before exams.”

She was talking about Defense. Dumbledore had taken over after —

Snape’s boot through Quirrell’s skull like a rotten pumpkin

Ariel took a big sip of water as Mrs Granger nodded along. “Well, it’s always difficult when there’s a change mid-semester. That happened to your father and I at university, it wasn’t easy.”

“It wasn’t that,” Hermione said. “I thought he was wonderful, maybe not as conventional…”

“I liked him loads better than the other bloke.” Ariel said. Mrs Granger looked like she wanted to ask why, but she quickly downed half her glass to avoid the question.

Professor Dumbledore had given Ariel anOin Defense,but it had sounded like he’d given everyone anO.Even Fred and George had gotten one, which Hermione found to be mind breaking, but Ariel thought they were loads smart, just not in the same way as Hermione. All Mrs Weasley had said to them last summer was about applying themselves, but Ariel got the feeling marks weren’t exactly as important to them as they were to Percy — even Ron. Grades didn’t matter much to Ariel either, but she had been rather pleased with herself. She’d done much better than she’d thought she would.

Mrs Granger turned to Ariel. “Did you enjoy the end of the year, dear? How were your marks?”

She blinked. She’d never been asked about her grades before. Her teachers in grade school had told Aunt Petunia she was too easily distracted. “I did alright, I guess.”

Hermione huffed, giving a playful scowl. “She got allO’s,except for —”

“Potions,” Ariel stabbed at a green bean. “I only got anE —and I barely passed Flying lessons, too.”

“What was the one you were worried about?” Mr Granger asked Hermione. “Potions? You mentioned it was a lot like chemistry.”

Hermione gave Ariel a sideways look. “A bit.”

“Tough professor, right?” Mr Granger said. “You told us a bit in your letters —”

Ariel eyed the doorway nervously. She shoved a forkful of something with too much garlic powder on it into her mouth.

“Er, yes,” Hermione gave Ariel a sideways glance. “I was mostly worried about Defense though, after the old professor left…”

“Have they found someone new for the Defense position?” asked Mrs Granger.

“Yeah,” Ariel said, without thinking. “His name is Lockhart.”

Hermione dropped her fork. It made such a clatter that Ariel jumped in her seat, her eyes shooting to the entrance. The blue-haired waitress gave Hermione new cutlery while Ariel tried to count backwards from ten, trying to find the soft glint of light on her Occlumency ocean. Snape only meant for her to use it when she slept, but sometimes, when she was angry or anxious, she tried to float away. She wasn’t sure it was going to do much good if Snapedidactually show up, though.

“TheGilderoy Lockhart?” Hermione asked, her face still red with embarrassment. Mr Granger was laughing into his glass while Mrs Granger smacked him with her napkin.

Ariel popped another green bean into her mouth. “Is he famous or something?”

“I’ve got all his books,” Hermione said, a faraway look in her eyes Ariel had never seen before. “He’s legendary — he’s just — youmustread some when we get home, it’s really quite remarkable —”

Ariel shrugged. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“How’d you hear he was teaching at Hogwarts, then?”

All three of the Grangers stared at her. Ariel’s stomach was performing major acrobatic feats.

“Er,” she racked her brain for an excuse. “I think someone mentioned it at the end of term.”

Hermione gave her A Look — one that told Ariel she knewexactlywhere she’d heard it. In the meantime, Ariel went back to shoveling food in her mouth and hoping to Merlin that Snape hadn’t decided to check on her early. He’d said a week, though, and he always kept his word on when he’d come and see her. Unless Snape had come for her birthday — no, he wouldn’t have, Snapedefinitelywasn’t the birthday type. He’d hated Christmas, for Merlin’s sake.

“Well,” Mrs Granger said once they were done eating. “I could go for some dessert. What about you girls?”

Ariel exchanged a look with Hermione, who was grinning for some reason. She looked around, wondering if she’d missed something or someone, and thinking about whatdessertmeant — she hadn’t had anything sweet since Hogwarts, and while Aunt Petunia was a horrible aunt, she was a wonderful cook, and some of the sweets she baked made Ariel’s mouth water. Not being able to eat any was nearly torture.

The blue haired waitress appeared from behind her, placing down a cake in front of her. It had chocolate frosting with the wordsHappy Birthday Arielin green frosting — her favorite color. There were twelve candles lit in a circle, flickering in the dim light of the restaurant. Mr and Mrs Granger smiled while Ariel stared uncomprehendingly for a moment.

“Happy Birthday,” Hermione said, squeezing her hand.

For a moment, her heart practically overflowing with happiness and gratitude, she had the strangest thought that something was off, something was missing, that the scene in front of her was incomplete. It almost felt like deja vu, but when Ariel tore her gaze from the candles, she felt silly.

“Well?” Mrs Granger smiled at her. “You have to make a wish!”

“Preferablybeforethe wax melts onto the cake,” Mr Granger teased.

Ariel shook off the not-sadness, and blew out the candles. It wasn’t until everyone was clapping that she realized she hadn’t actually wished anything, but as the blue-haired waitress began cutting the cake, she realized that she wouldn’t have wished for anything else.

Twelve was off to a brilliant start, she thought.

—----------

Severus Apparated to Petunia’s just after dinner. He stood at the end of the drive, as he always did, and waited for the girl’s face to peer out from behind the curtain. In his fist, he held the pocket watch.

Are you alone?

There was no answer. Severus frowned, but tried again. She wouldn’t be expecting him — he’d told her a week, and it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours.

If you don’t answer, I am coming in

He tapped his foot impatiently. The bedroom stayed dark and still, unlike the rest of the house. The girl would surely be confined to her bedroom if Petunia had guests, but she was far too stubborn to simply try and sleep through it. Even from the end of the drive, Severus could hear Petunia’s tinny laugher, the sound bouncing off his eardrums like metal on metal. It was a forced sound, one he’d only ever heard when she was being cruel.

I’ve got to sit in my room and pretend I don’t exist

Dumbledore owed him for letting those fucking scumbags live. If Severus had his way, the Muggles wouldn’t so much as think about causing that girl any inconvenience. They’d given her enough grief to last two lifetimes — just the thought of the wobbly handwriting in crayon in that damn cupboard —

The seconds dragged on with no response. Severus began to wonder if this was the sort of petulant bullshit the students subjected one another too when they were cross with one another — the silent treatment. The girl had been upset with him leaving her for a week, and Severus hadn’t blamed her, but he did not want to give her false hope in case today’s meeting with Dumbledore hadn’t gone smoothly. Lily had wielded that particular tactic masterfully. Severus hadn’t been able to do much of anything when Lily was so angry that she refused to speak with him, and he’d known for a fact it had driven Potter mental. As they’d gotten older, Severus had wondered if Lily had known just what it had done to them both.

This is your last chance

Nothing.

You left her here,Conscience whispered.

Severus let the front door fly open with much more force than necessary. It slammed against the wall, and there were several startled yelps from down the hall, just out of view. It sounded like they still had guests —excellent.

He flew up the stairs and glared at the girl’s bedroom door, half expecting Miss Evans to be there, staring up at him in shock with those damn eyes and a wrinkled nose, but when he threw open her door, he found it cleared out, as though Miss Evans had never been here.

Something hard and icy slid down into the pit of his stomach. He could feel his heart beating fast in his chest, slowly making its way up his throat.

“What in the —” a man’s voice came from downstairs, one Severus didn’t recognize.

gone she was gone where where where

“Petunia,” came Dursley’s tight voice. “Might you check upstairs, dear?”

I hate it here she’d said, she’d told him and now she was gone

“No!” another woman’s voice said, high and shrill. “Call the police, for God’s sake —”

There were several loud thuds. Severus couldn’t tell if it was the commotion downstairs or his heartbeat, maddeningly quick and urgent. When he got his hands on that girl, he was going to —

There was someone standing behind him, then. Severus knew who it was instantly, and unlike last time, when he’d seen the look of shock and horror on her face and decided to twist the knife by calling her Lily’s childhood nickname, he felt nothing but hatred, the kind that made his stomach turn, made his molars itch.

Petunia closed the door shut behind her.

“Where is she?” Severus hissed.

Petunia lifted her chin defiantly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The edges of his vision began to shimmer, as sharp and jagged as glass. “Tell me right fucking now, or so help me —”

“You’ll what?” she challenged him. “That old man — the one in charge of your crackpot school — said you can’t lay a finger on us.”

Severus bared his teeth. If he wasn’t ready to murder her, he might’ve considered it a smile. “Can’t? Or won’t?”

She went pale. “He swore! The girl won’t be allowed back here, that madman who murdered my sister is still roaming free —”

Severus bit his tongue, wanting to twistthatknife deeper. How ironic that she brought Lily into this, when it was because of Lily that Petunia loathed the girl. “Tell me what you’ve done with her.”

“WhatI’vedone?” Petunia threw back at him, her words as sharp and pointed as daggers.“Ihave given that ungrateful brat a home for the past twelve years!Ihave lived in fear of you people, of what you can do! Andyou —God only knows what you’ve done.”

“I’d like to know what you mean by that.”

“I’m not telling you a damn thing.” she snapped. “Get out of my house!”

Severus snarled, flicking open the wardrobe wordlessly. The wood splintered on the top hinge, causing Petunia to flinch. There was nothing, not that there had been much to begin with. He took out the pocket watch, forcing out apoint me,only to find that it read “laundry room.”

“She left, didn’t she?” Severus threw over his shoulder, pulling out the dresser drawers. “And you let her fucking leave like you did last year — you hadexplicitinstructions for two damn months a year, if that —”

“Someone came and took her,” said Petunia.

His heart stuttered. His insides felt like they were eating themselves, as if he were turning inside out.“Who?”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Severus wondered if Lily had told Petunia why their friendship had ended. He almost wished she would mention it. Dumbledore might be more understanding about what he was about to do, if she did.

“Get out of my house,” Petunia said again, and he could see her hands beginning to shake.

Severus raised his wand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“That girl will never step foot in my house again if you so much as point that thing at me,” Petunia eyed it warily, her eyes flitting about like an animal backed into a corner.

“If she has been taken —“

“She went willingly!”

His eyes narrowed. “And why would she have done that?”

“Perhaps it was to get away from the likes of you,” Petunia spat viciously. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, it seems.”

He had to be careful. She was brazenly baiting him, and if she put two and two together about the girl’s parentage, she would never let the girl set foot in her home again. Loathed as Severus was to admit it, Miss Evansdidneed to spend time here, and without it, she would open to the Dark Lord’s influence and attacks. No — if Petunia knew he was the father, there would be nothing even Dumbledore could do to convince her.

This time, he smiled.

—---------

Hermione ran a comb through Ariel’s freshly washed hair. It felt nice to have had a shower that lasted longer than five minutes, and it was especially nice that she was finally away from the Dursleys again, in Hermione’s room. This was quite possibly the best birthday she’d ever had.

She had a bunk bed with a purple bedspread. Ariel hadn’t pictured Hermione’s room to look like this — she’d expected it to be nice, but she had been quite surprised to find that it wasn’t covered floor to ceiling in books. Mrs Granger told her they kept whatever Hermione hadn’t already read in the attic, which had caused Ariel to gawk at the built-in bookcases that were overflowing. They covered three of the four walls in the room.

“Switch,” Hermione said, and Ariel took the comb and seated herself behind her. “Start from the bottom, there'll be less knots that way.”

“I remember,” Ariel said, wringing the ends with a towel before she started. “Do you remember when Lavender used that hair-drying spell?”

Her expression darkened. “And made me look like a pygmy puff?”

She grinned.“Ilooked like the pygmy puff.”

“Right, I forgot.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “She told me I looked like a poodle that needed a haircut.”

“Lavender shouldn’t talk,” Ariel said dismissively.“She’sthe one who puts bows in her hair, after all.”

Hermione laughed, shaking her head. “That’s horrible — you sound like Ron.”

“He’s not always wrong.”

“No,” Hermione admitted. “but you should have heard his plan to come and rescue you.”

A warm feeling enveloped Ariel. “There was a rescue plan?”

“He was going to take his dad’s car with Fred and George —”

“What!”

Hermione winced.“Ow,”

“Oops, sorry.” Ariel untangled the comb from the knot she’d pulled down on. “What car? The Weasleys have a car?”

“Aflyingcar.” Hermione didn’t sound thrilled with this detail. “They were going to fly it to your aunt’s. It was the twins’ idea, of course, but Ron was getting so worried that he was actually going to go through with it. That’s why I made Mum and Dad drive down, you all would’ve gotten into a load of trouble.”

Ariel tried to picture Snape’s face if she’d gotten into a flying car with Fred and George. “I’m glad they didn’t. Aunt Petunia would’ve had a fit.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Do you think your aunt was keeping the letters?”

A fire ignited inside Ariel’s heart. “Maybe… I don’t see how, though. Iwassending Hedwig to you.”

“What about mine? I don’t have an owl… I must’ve sent two dozen through the Muggle mail. Ron was using Percy’s owl, I know, but it’s odd that neither were getting to you…” her eyebrows furrowed together in thought. “But your aunt and uncle wouldn’t have known to look for an owl.”

Itwasstrange, but keeping letters from Ariel wasn’t exactly abnormal behavior for the Dursleys. Just last summer they’d nearly driven themselves mental trying to keep the Hogwarts letters from her, and the more Ariel thought about it, owls probably caused Uncle Vernon to have some sort of epilelptic fit. When he’d caught sight of Hedwig, his eyes had nearly bulged out of his head.

“Yeah,” Ariel stopped brushing. “Weird.”

Hermione turned around to face her. “Have you seen…him?”

Ariel didn’t need to ask who she was talking about. “He comes every few days.”

Her eyebrows raised in surprise. “That often.”

It was a statement, not a question. Ariel felt her stomach knot around itself.

“He doesn’t trust Aunt Petunia.” Ariel picked at a loose thread on the sheets. “They hate each other — alot.”

Hermione cocked her head. “Why?”

“They didn’t get along as kids, I guess.”

“Right,” she murmured. “I forgot they must’ve known each other, too.”

“It was important for me to be there,” Ariel sighed. “After what happened I… I don’t know. He didn’t like it much, though.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “Did he?”

Ariel blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Did you tell him you weren’t getting any letters?”

She shook her head. “No, it never came up. He never stayed for long and always made it sound like he was busy.”

Snape wouldn’t have cared anyway. He probably would have told her to stop whining, or just Occlude away the sadness or something. She couldn’t tell Hermione that, though. They never talked about Snape, not since their argument last year, right before Voldemort had —

(he hadn’t cared about her birthday, either)

Ariel ran her hands through Hermione’s hair — it was smooth and knot-free, but it was already beginning to frizz. “Want me to braid it?”

Hermione nodded. “I can do yours too, if you’d like.”

She made a face. “I think mine’s too short.”

“It’s longer than it was,” Hermione gave her a reassuring pat. “I still can’t tell if your hair is curly or not.”

Ariel shrugged. “Does it matter?”

She gave her a pointed look. “Straight ismucheasier to manage. I speak from experience”

“Lavender was always trying to make hers curly.”

Hermione just shook her head. “Lavender worries about the wrong sort of things.”

“My mum’s hair was sort of wavy,” she paused. “Snape’s is straight, though. I wish mine would grow out already.”

Hermione was quiet as she started on the right side of Ariel’s head. “You haven’t talked about them as much.”

Ariel felt the ends of her fingertips go cold. Something pulsed through her like an electric shock. “I don’t really know what to say about them, if I’m being honest.”

“Youcantalk to me about it,” Hermione paused. “if you want to, that is.”

there is something your mother left you

I need you to keep her safe

She pulled away so that she was facing Hermione, who let the brush settle into her lap. Her amber eyes searched Ariel’s — not in the same way they had when they’d argued about Snape, when Hermione had told her maybe it was best to stay away from him, but Ariel couldn’t find it in herself to tell her everything. She hadn’t told Hermione and Ron about the Pensieve, and she didn’t think she ever would. There was something private and dear — maybe even sacred, in a way. Maybe that was why she and Snape had never discussed it, no matter how badly Ariel wanted to know what had happened between them.

“There’s nothing to say,” Ariel said quietly. “I think he’s… trying.”

Hermione nodded, but her eyebrows were furrowed together. “Well, I’d hope so.”

They didn’t discuss it further, and Hermione managed to mangle Ariel’s hair into two very messy braids, but they were braids nonetheless. Hermione set her own hairspray while Ariel unpacked the clothes she’d brought with her from the Dursleys. Hermione had set aside a drawer for her in her dresser, and soon, they were in bed. Ariel took the bottom bunk and Hermione readLord of the Ringsaloud until her voice became a light snore.

Ariel, however, wasn’t even a little tired. She settled herself by the window facing the street. There was a streetlamp just outside, right next to Mr Granger’s car. Ariel could hear the hum of the bulb as a soft summer breeze tickled at her face.

It was when Ariel thought about the fact that Snape hadn’t come then something melted out of the shadows. She nearly fell back onto the bed, but she found her feet carrying her down the stairs, her heart thumping as loud as a timpani. It was a wonder it didn’t wake up Hermione or her parents.

When she got to the front door, she stood still for a long moment, dread taking hold in her sternum. He stood at the end of the drive, the same way he did at Privet Drive. When she finally made her feet move forward, she found it extraordinarily difficult to do so.

Snape said nothing, but his face said more than enough. His eyes were bloodshot, as though he hadn’t slept, and his face was white as bone. He didn’t even seem to be blinking, his eyes burning below the streetlamp.

“I thought you said a week.” Ariel wanted it to sound more accusatory, but it came across as the leadup to an apology. She silently cursed herself, forcing herself to meet his eyes.

The lightbulb in the lamp exploded above them. Ariel flinched.

Snape was silent. His glare made the hairs on her arms stand up straight.

“How did you know—”

“Hold out your hand.” Snape ordered, his voice as hollow as the hole it caused to open up in her chest. She had forgotten how scary he could make himself sound. She had forgotten that sometimes, he was someone to fear.

Ariel did as he asked, and he dropped the coin into her waiting palm.

“I’m sorry,” she began, but before she could tell him everything, he interrupted.

“Go back inside, Miss Evans,” said Snape coldly.

He started to stalk away. A terrible ache gripped at her, one she tried to shake off, but before she could dismiss it, she was stumbling forward, reaching out —

“No,” she said. “please.”

Ariel expected Snape to pull his arm free, but his fingers curled around hers for a split second before he went completely still. One black eye glared out at her from the curtain of hair.

She tried to form the sentence that had been on the tip of her tongue, but it wouldn’t come out. It was stuck behind her teeth, needing a way out, wanting to tell him that she had wanted to leave the Dursleys the second she’d arrived but knew that she had to stay after what had happened. It had been exhausting being alone, which didn’t make much sense because she’d had all the time in the world in Dudley’s second bedroom for days and days on end. She’d wanted him to do what Hermione had done. Deep down, she might’ve been happier, but no, that was mental —

“Well?” Snape asked. The street lamps that hadn’t been harmed buzzed, as though they were eagerly awaiting her answer.

Ariel let go of his hand. She didn’t want him to leave, but she had missed her friends so terribly, he wouldn’t understand —

She tried to muster together a glare that would rival his. “It’s my birthday, you know.”

His expression went completely blank.

“Bet you didn’t know that,” she squared her chin. “Did you?”

“I don’t see why it matters.” he snarled.

“Hermioneknew,” Ariel shot back. “That's why she came.”

“How fortunate for you, then.” Snape sneered. “Be certain not to waste her time in the same manner you’ve wasted mine.”

She flushed red, her temper rising. “I never asked you to come!”

“But you knew I would,” his eyes glittered dangerously. “that’s why you were waiting, wasn’t it?”

“I couldn’t sleep —”

“That is a child’s excuse.”

“I’m not a child!”

“Gallivanting across the damn continent without so much as a word proves otherwise.” Snape took a step closer, his hands knotted in his cloak, like he was holding them back.“Running awayfor a second time — you have no idea what could have happened —”

I knew her better than you ever will

I hate it here

“You said a week,” Ariel tried to shout back, but suddenly, it was taking all of her strength to bite back tears. “I couldn’t stand another week there.”

Snape seemed to shrink, or maybe the night had gotten darker, the streetlamp’s glow softer. The anger seemed to swell back into him instantly, the same way waves rushed the shore. Ariel was certain he was going to let her have it, or at the very least tell her to get lost again, but instead, he pivoted on his heel and stormed away a few feet. He kept his back to her, but his shoulders were nearly touching his ears. Something told Ariel that she’d thoroughly exasperated him. Maybe she’d broken him a little, because it felt an awful lot like Snape had just run away from her.

She followed after him and stood next to him. He looked like he wanted to turn the streetlamp into a pretzel.

Ariel wiped her face with her sleeve. “I won’t see you again, will I?”

He did not look at her. “Not until term begins.”

Her face fell. “I don’t understand why.”

“We cannot be seen together.” he looked very tired all of a sudden. “We’ve discussed this.”

“But you’ve never told mewhy.”

He said nothing for a long moment. “Because I do notwishto tell you why, Miss Evans.”

“That’s not fair!”

His eyes snapped down to her, endlessly black and void of pity.“Lifeisn’t fair.”

“Then why are you here?” Ariel countered —don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry.

Snape grabbed her chin roughly. She wanted to pull away, but she felt stuck to where she was standing, pinned down by his almost cruel glint in his eyes. His thumb swept across her cheek and across her temple.

“You know why I’m here,” he said.

She reached forward but Snape had already pulled away —

and he was gone.

Ariel stared where he had stood. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. More lights were turning on in the houses around them, dogs barking and muted, confused voices. Her chest felt tight and uncomfortable, like she wanted to scream and never stop, but she couldn’t. She shouldn’t — sheshouldhave been happy, but she wasn’t, all because Snape was terrible and awful and cruel —

But he’d come. He’d come to see her, to make sure she was okay. Not a week later, but that very night.

Hermione was waiting in the doorway, just around the bend in the stairs when Ariel went back inside. She stopped, not knowing what to say, not wanting to say anything at all, but Hermione just gave her a knowing look.

“I’m fine,” Ariel lied. “Everything's fine.”

Hermione reached forward and hugged her tight.

And then the bathroom light clicked on. In front of the sink sat a creature that looked like he was wearing an old pillowcase.

“Ariel Evans!” it said. “So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, ma’am. Such an honor it is…”



To be continued...
End Notes:
A/N: Sorry it's been like... years.

I've written through Chapter 50 and forgot to upload here... so here I am!
Chapter 24: prelude by shostakobitch

Severus holed himself in his basement at Spinner’s End for the remainder of the summer.

Dumbledore was too meddlesome to be trusted to leave him alone at Hogwarts and Miss Evans was bound to give him a nervous breakdown at some time in the imminent future. While it was certainly inevitable, Severus was determined to delay it as long as possible.

The rest of the staff was still on holiday, visiting with family or honing in on their own branches of magic. Flitwick always returned boasting about the lectures he gave across the continent while Pomona tried to one-up him with the plants she’d entered in various contents, vegetation she spent all term pruning and picking and perfecting. It was exhausting to know that he was only a few short weeks away from having to interact with people — and even more loathsome, thestudents —on a regular basis, again. After eleven years of this tedium, it never got any easier. The school year always ended with Severus anticipating its return.

The isolation in Cokeworth was not so different from the isolation at Hogwarts. Visiting the girl was the first time he could recall having a driving purpose since the war, and he’d failed at it. He tried, with great effort, not to feel guilt ridden about how he’d left her, but he hadn’t known what the fuck to do with himself when he found her bedroom at Petunia’s empty. Those shiteating pustules disguised as Muggles didn’t deserve to live — if he could, he never would have let her return, but there were far bigger threats to the girl than Petunia Dursley. Severus knew that if somethingdidhappen to the girl, Petunia wouldn’t give two shits about it. She’d proven that last year, when the girl had run away, and she’d spent the evening toasting over caviar.Someonehad to care, even if Miss Evans resented him for it.

He spent the long days of summer he had remaining brewing, day in and day out. He took breaks to drink more coffee and sleep, but other than that, he worked continuously, trying to drown out the nagging voice in the back of his mind that wondered about Miss Evans.

Two weeks into his frenzied, and yet, somehow mind-numbing isolation, Severus ran out of ingredients.

He did not want to risk raiding the Hogwarts storeroom since Dumbledore would know if he were there immediately and bring up what had happened with Petunia. This left him with one option.

Diagon Alley was particularly lively — too lively for Severus’ tastes — as he made his way to the apothecary. Lily had always told him that he’d own his own business one day, an apothecary like the one he was in now, with inferior potions. Severus had thought the idea small and shallow. She had been hurt when he’d voiced it, but he could never place the shine in her eyes when she’d talked about it. She had wanted to be a Healer but the war had made it impossible for Muggleborns to gain any sort of employment, but he thought it a noble pursuit. Her world had always centered around a family, though — a family she would never get to have.

Severus thought of the family she’d left behind as he reached for the Valerian sprigs. He wondered if their daughter was sleeping soundly at night. He certainly wasn’t — was insomnia hereditary? He’d always kept extra Dreamless Sleep on hand, for the long nights when he needed to forget, just for a few hours. He should have left some with the girl when he’d found her at Granger’s.

From his peripheral, there was a flash of carrot-colored hair. Several droves of it, actually, and there was only one family with droves of children.

“Alright alright, I see Fred, George, Ginny —”

Gods, there was another one? He’d hoped Weasley-twerp would be the last of them. Not to mention the last thing he needed was those blasted twins getting sight of him outside of school.

“Hermione? Hermione dear — oh yes, there you are —”

Shit, if Granger was here, that meant —

“Where’s Ariel?” Granger called out in a shrill, worried voice.

Severus felt his stomach lurch. He dropped the Valerian sprigs, nearly upsetting the whole cart. The shopkeeper gave him a dirty look, but Severus didn’t care, he was already making his way out of the store.

“Does anyone know what she said?” Mother-Weasley called, looking at Weasley-twerp and Granger.

“I think she sneezed,” Weasley-twerp said, rounding on those horrid twins accusingly. “And you lot were making her nervous!”

“Oi, don’t blame us!” one of the twins said, holding his hands up in surrender. “We were just giving her a few pointers, is all.”

Jesus fucking Christ, he had never met a child so prone to wreaking this much havoc.

“Point me,”Severus hissed down at his pocket watch. He felt his blood pressure begin to skyrocket when it repliedKnockturn Alley.

He found her rather quickly. She was covered in dust and in Muggle clothes, which stuck out like a weed in a field of wildflowers in the dimness of the alleyway. She had on some hideous flannel and Muggle jeans, but it seemed like someone had given the girl a decent haircut, finally. Her hair had grown just below her shoulders, and the thickness of it had taken some of the curl out of it, her hair more wavy now, like Lily’s had been.

Severus pulled her back into the alleyway. “What are you doing here?” he snarled.“Alone?”

She looked shocked for a moment before she scowled right back at him. “I could say the same to you.”

His grip tightened on her arm, and she winced. He let go instinctively, but placed his arm on the wall, high above her head, so that his robes were blocking her from sight — and from escaping. “You have three seconds to give me averygood reason —”

“It was an accident!” Miss Evans said, glaring at him mutinously. Her dark eyes flashed at him like moonlight on a lake.

“As is every unfortunate case of you being somewhere you shouldn’t.” Severus said flatly. “The redundancy of your mishaps makes your claim weak.”

“I guess I said the wrong name.” Miss Evans muttered. “Ron invited Hermione and I to come stay with him and they used the Floo. I didn’tmeanto end up here, you know. I thought I said Diagon Alley!”

“Obviously,” Severus snapped. “Where are yousupposedto be?”

“With the Weasley’s, getting our textbooks. I was in some creepy shop with Malfoy and his dad.”

He felt a small shock of panic zip through him. “Did theysee you?”

“No, I hid in a cabinet.” she made a face. “I can see where Malfoy gets it from, though. His dad is a real prat.”

Severus stifled the urge to roll his eyes. “Your wit knows no bounds.”

She scowled and crossed her arms defiantly. “What’reyoudoing here?”

Ignoring the question, he dropped his arm. “You don’t want to be spotted here — come along.”

“Yousaid we couldn’t be seen together in public.”

“Don’t be daft. No one is going to question a Hogwarts professor returning a student to their appropriate party.”

“I can find them myself.” her eyes shimmered, like a mirage.

Severus took a step back, her reaction abnormal. She’d never been this dismissive of him before. It took him a moment to realize that somethingelsehad happened — or she was still cross from him after her little stunt.

“Are you hurt?” he asked in a low voice. He raised his wand to run a Diagnostic spell on her, but she dodged his wand by sidestepping him.

“I —” she swallowed, and when she spoke again, her voice was tight. “I’ve been calling you with the coin and you’ve been ignoring me.”

Severus felt like he’d been smacked right between the eyes. “What in Merlin’s name are you talking about?”

“What’s the point in having it if you’re just going to pretend like I don’t exist again?” she demanded.

The ball of panic he tried to tell himself was rage reignited. He could hear the blood pumping in his ears. “I did no such thing —”

“I’ve called you every night —”

“You most certainly havenot,”his hand found her arm again. “Are you calling me a liar?”

She lifted her chin boldly. “Why wouldIlie?”

Severus was torn between throttling her or dismissing her altogether. He didn’t have time for games — he’d checked that fucking pocketwatch every damn hour, practically. It was Charmed to alert him should she contact him, and it hadn’t given him a single message. He couldn’t have failed at the one thing he’d secretly been hoping to have to do again — a nauseating thought, but he had already had his reckoning. The girl was a weak spot for him.

Before he could demand that she had it over for inspection, something in her face shifted, like a spool yarn being unwound, faster and faster until her expression shone with realization.

“Dobby,” she whispered to herself. Her eyes were far away, but focused.

Dobby? He knew that name from somewhere, but where?

“Miss Evans,” he began dangerously, thinking it would be enough to catch her attention, but her expression didn’t change. He gave her a little shake. Her eyes flitted back to him, the hurt and anger gone from her thin face. Now, she looked both understanding and confused. Severus could practically see the conflict unfolding behind her eyes.

“He’s a house elf,” she said, before he could ask.

It clicked, then. That was the name of Lucius’ house elf — he had several, but Dobby was the one he called on most often. The little nitwit was in a state of incurable hysteria the majority of the time.

Severus was now taken off guard for the — fifth? sixth? — time in the past ten minutes. “You know a house elf named Dobby?”

“I should have known,” she was talking to herself again, and it was disturbingly Granger-esque. “He was taking the letters… he must’ve messed with the coin…”

He did not enjoy being the unknowing party, especially when it came to a girl who had been a stone’s throw away from being possessed and murdered by a deranged madman. A feeling of dread was boiling in his gut, one the cloak of Occlumency that he wore could not shield him from.

Miss Evans must have seen his face and realized thathewas dangerously close to becoming a deranged madman himself, because she very quickly began to tell him about her visitor the night of her birthday, just after Severus had left her. He listened intently, throwing up a Silencing spell around them just in case. They were still in public, but the alley was quiet. Miss Evans had taken one of the less trafficked routes out.

As he listened, Severus found himself equal parts perplexed and concerned. The elf wouldn’t have been able to find Miss Evans if he meant harm, which meant that he thought there was an actual, credible threat to the girl’s life.Keeping the letters from the girl’s cronies had to have been only the first step in some larger scheme to keep the girl from Hogwarts, but Severus’ presence must have thrown a considerable wrench into things. The elf wouldn’t have undone Severus’ magic on the coin, knowing it would have instantly triggered suspicion. No, he’d waited until he’d known for certain Severus wasn’t coming back and then delivered his warning.

The coin being meddled with brought an entirely new level of molten rage into frame. Severus couldn’t fault the house elf for warning her if he thought the girl's life was at risk, but he could certainly break a few fingers for keeping him from his child.

If Luciuswasplanning something, it would have to be something that wouldn’t harm Draco, otherwise, he would never put his one and only heir in harm’s way. Not to mention that Narcissa would make the Dark Lord look tame in comparison if anything happened to her son. What could Lucius possibly have concocted that wouldn’t backfire? What did he have access to of such a caliber?

He couldn’t have been in contact with the Dark Lord — there was no possible way he would come out ofthatreunion unscathed after publicly denouncing him. The only ones who would be welcomed back without repercussions were those in Azkaban, and Dumbledore had made mention over the years that Bellatrix had betterstaylocked up.

It could have been complete hogwash — but the elf wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to keep the girl from Hogwarts if he truly thought she’d been in danger. He could only imagine what punishment awaited him if Lucius found out.

Miss Evans handed him the coin when she was done. “Can you tell if someone messed with it?”

He gave her a long, bored sort of look. “Yes, Miss Evans, Icandetect if my spells have been tampered with.”

She scowled at him, dropping it into his palm. “You can fix it, right?”

“If I cast them once, what makes you think I can’t do so again?”

She threw her hands up in exasperation. “I think you like being angry all the time.”

Severus ignored her, but distantly, he could have sworn Dumbledore had said something similar on more than one occasion. He cast a series of Diagnostic spells on the coin, reading the results as they lit up before them, confirming the girl’s suspicions — this was house elf magic, and the Charm he’d placed on it had been stripped.

The Tracking Charm had been left in place — smart elf. Severus didn’t want to know what he would’ve done if he’d been unable to find the girl today.

He recast the Charms with reinforcements this time, ensuring he would be the only one to remove them and handed it back to the girl. She watched him with wide, curious eyes.

“What does it mean?” she asked hesitantly. “He said whatever was coming is worse than Voldemort.”

He flinched at the name, but his insides had gone cold, like all of his organs had been plucked out of him.

“It means nothing,” Severus said, but he was lying. He could feel the pinpricks of uncertainty in his fingertips, not overwhelming, but enough that he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he knew exactly what the elf was talking about. “It could very well be utter nonsense.”

She didn’t look convinced. “And if it’s not? He went through loads of trouble to keep those letters — and you — away. Dr Granger’s car even broke down the other day, we were supposed to meet the Weasley’s then. He took it tothreemechanics and none of them could figure out what was wrong. It only started working once he said we’d have to do it another day.”

Well, the little shit was persistent, if anything.

“Noted,” Severus dissolved the Silencing spell, and motioned for her to follow. He didn’t want to feed into the girl’s questions, nothing good would come of it. He could only imagine what her and the other two brats had done with this information already, and he was determined to squash it. There wouldnotbe another incident like the Stone. As soon as she was back with the Weasley brood he was going straight to Dumbledore, and then, Malfoy Manor.

The girl had seen Lucius here, though — if Severus ran into him, it would look far less suspicious —

“You’re not worried?” Miss Evans did not move from the alleyway. She stared up at him with narrowed eyes, her face filled to them brim with unadulterated, unmasked Gryffindor suspicion.

“I will take care of it.”Nothing will happen to you.

“But —”

“I said I will take care of it.” he snapped. “Do not concern yourself with it any longer.”

She kicked at the ground. “Yeah, okay… fine.”

“We’ve been here too long,” he said, scanning the alleyway — they were beginning to be noticed. Faceless shadows were melting from the walls, out of hidden stores and passageways. He gave her a small push forward, keeping her partially hidden beneath his cloak.

She scuttled beside him a bit too eagerly. “We were supposed to go to Gringotts first, I think.”

“Fascinating,” he replied, but his mouth tasted sour. Potter’s galleons and wealth were paying for his own child’s education — would pay for the rest of her life, really. He wondered if there was a way to rectify that, surely Dumbledore could arrange something so that Severus could pay without leaving a paper trail…

“Speaking of money,” she slowed down, and this annoyed Severus greatly. “Draco’s dad was trying to sell some things, it sounded like.”

The man was planning on unleashing something onto Hogwarts, but was worried about the recent Ministry raids? Fucking hell, Severus couldn’t make this type of crackpot nonsense up if he tried.

“Nothing good was ever heard from eavesdropping.” he said dismissively.

Speak for yourself,whispered Conscience. He felt the irony twist his gut.

“I wasn’ttryingto eavesdrop —”

“No, you only managed to finagle your way into a situation in which you areentirelyout of your depth.”

She stopped short to glower at him again. It was damn near impressive how familiar the arch of her eyebrows were, and a bit unnerving. Sometimes, he wondered if as she grew, the resemblance to himself would become more apparent. He certainly hoped not, but at least she hadn’t been cursed with his fucking nose.

Severus sighed impatiently. “The more you dawdle, the more worried your friends will become.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, like you care about my friends.”

“I said nothing about how much Icare,only that your absence is cause for concern.”

“That’s why you came and found me then, is it?” she cocked her head up at him. “How’d you find me so fast anway?”

“Magic,” he said, with only a touch of mockery.

In Severus’ peripheral, he could see that they’d drawn some attention from the more unsavory characters he’d been afraid the girl would’ve bumped into alone. Heads were popping out of doors and windows, murmurs and head jerks in the girl’s direction. He would never tell her, but a piece of the Girl-Who-Lived would fetch a high price in Knockturn Alley.

She still looked nettled, but the corners of her lips curved upwards. She shuffled her feet and peered up at him hesitantly. “I’m glad to see you, either way.”

Something uncomfortably warm shifted inside his sternum. He couldn’t place whether it was a rush of affection or pleasant surprise, but his reaction surprised him more than her actual words.

He put his hand to her forehead.

“Did you hit your head on the mantle?” he asked.

Miss Evans snorted and shook him off. “No, but I think there’s dust in my socks.”

He pointed his wand at her, blowing away any excess dust. She was right — she was covered in it, which caused her to erupt into a fit of coughing. “Thanks,” she managed to rasp out, shaking out of the sleeves of her flannel. A cloud permeated around her.

It didn’t take them long to relocate the gaggle of Weasley-spawn. It seemed that Mrs Weasley had only just rounded them up and was loudly calling over the sea of heads where they should start looking for the girl. When she caught sight of them, however, she seemed to sag with relief.

“Uh oh,” one of the twins said. “She's Floo’d herself into detention before school even starts.”

Severus made a mental note to have them scrub bedpans first thing when term began again — he’d meet them at the bloody train to send a message, if he had to. Gods, he hated children.

“Shut up, Fred,” Weasley-twerp hissed at him.

Granger practically threw herself at the girl. “We were so worried — are you okay?”

Mrs Weasley had bustled over, her handbag swinging wildly. She checked over the girl, as if Severus would have let her walk around with any sort of injury. He should have expected it, he could only imagine what the majority of the students said about him, especially those horrid twins.

“Oh my dear, you could’ve ended up anywhere —” Mrs Weasley fretted.

Severus bit his tongue as the girl shot him a knowing look.

“Where’d you end up?” Weasley-twerp asked.

Miss Evans peered at Severus from the corners of her eyes before answering. “Knockturn Alley.”

“Excellent,”the twins chorused together. Mrs Weasley shook her head fiercely at them in disapproval.

“Well thank goodness you’re alright, dear.” she brushed off her sleeves, and gave her arm a squeeze. “And thank you, Professor Snape, for bringing her back. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“It was,” he said, earning himself a look of outrage from the hoard of Weasley-spawn. Miss Evans sent him a dense sort of look that said“really?”

“Well, let’s go, then,” Mrs Weasley ushered them along. “We’ll meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour — Ginny, do you have your list? We’ll go separately to see if we can get your robes secondhand…”

Miss Evans waited a moment before she turned back to him, giving him a halfhearted wave. “Bye,”

Severus watched her go and waited until they were out of sight to Disillusion himself. There was no goddamn way he was letting the girl go unattended. Merlin only knew what else would unfold before the day was out.

How he wished he was wrong.

—--------

Hermione kept giving Ariel private little looks, ones that wanted to know what had happened, but she waited until they’d parted with the rest of the Weasleys before she told them what she’d overheard in Borgin and Burkes with Draco’s father.

They’d stopped at Gringotts for spending money, which had made Ariel feel terribly uncomfortable. She wished she could’ve gone off to her vault by herself — or at least with just Hermione — but there was no way to hide the piles of galleons and jewels in the Potter vault.

It made her squirm knowing she wasn’t taking from her actual family vault anymore. She tried desperately to shake the feeling, especially when she watched Mrs Weasley throw only a handful of sickles into her handbag with a tight smile. She should have been grateful and she was, but there was this other feeling, like she was stealing secrets. Ariel wanted to offer to buy Ginny’s things so that Mrs Weasley wouldn’t have to shop secondhand but Hermione only shook her head at her when she’d suggested it. Ron had gone redder than his hair (and hers, for that matter, which was much darker) and mumbled that she shouldn’t feel obligated, his parents would figure it out.

After they’d left the rest of the Weasleys, Ariel bought the three of them the biggest bunches of cotton candy she’d ever seen from a cart and filled them in on what she’d overheard in Knockturn Alley and what Snape had said about Dobby.

“Dad would love to get Lucius Malfoy for something, I bet.” Ron was grinning ear to ear. “Wait till we tell him later.”

“He wasn’t buying, he was just selling.” Ariel wondered how the haggling had gone, she had a feeling he’d be very good at it… or at least, intimidating the shopkeeper into giving him a good deal. “He seemed a bit tense, though. Malfoy kept pestering him about a broom.”

Ron doubled over with laughter, nearly choking on the cotton candy. Hermione had to give him a few whacks on the back so he didn’t choke. “That’s a riot — imagine Malfoy on the Slytherin Quidditch team!”

“He was pretty good in Flying lessons,” Hermione admitted. Ariel rolled her eyes.

“He was alright,” Ron, waving her off dismissively. “There are much better flyers in our year in Slytherin that would get a spot over that prat.”

“Pansy would just about die,” Ariel said, and then regretted it, because she had been forced to think about her for the first time in months. She reminded her of Aunt Petunia, pointing out her small size and ugly hair and dead parents. If Dobby had somehow made her and Pansy Housemates,thenAriel might’ve considered not returning to Hogwarts. “I would still trade my wand arm to know what Malfoy’s dad was selling. Snape wasn’t exactly helpful.”

“Are you surprised?” Ron asked, looking at her expectantly.

“Not really,”I was just disappointed.

“And he said nothing about Dobby?” Hermione asked as they pushed their way into their third bookstore. Caroline had told Hermione she could only getfivebooks, besides the ones for school, of course. Hermione had bought seven already.

“Nope,” Ariel scanned the aisles, looking for Snape and wondering if they’d bump into him again, but she knew better. “He fixed the coin, though. He didn’t seem all that interested in the Malfoys either.”

“That’s strange,” Ron said, making a face at a shelf of books they’d passed Percy would have cried tears of joy over —Prefects Who Gained Power.“The Malfoys are bad news.”

“I mean, yeah, to us,” Ariel tried to shield the section on house elves with her back. Two of the seven books Hermione had already bought were related and she’d already voiced wanting to get another. “But to everyone else?”

“Oh yeah, loads of people.” he said, his face darkening. “Malfoy’s parents were supporters of You-Know-Who.”

“Really?” Ariel asked at the same time Hermione snapped, “Ronald, you don’t know that for sure!”

“Dad said so,” he shot back. “He told me once that Draco’s dad bought his way out of Azkaban, made a whole bunch of hefty donations to St. Mungos and stuff. Mum was furious with him, but he’s been trying to nab Mr Malfoy on something forages.”

It wasn’t exactly surprising, but Ariel couldn’t help but digest this information slowly as they walked about. She wondered if Snape knew that. She wondered if she asked him, if he’d tell her. Sometimes asking Snape things was a multi-layered mission, mostly because getting a straight answer out of him was like trying to decode a map that led to the lost city of Atlantis or something. Everything that came out of his mouth was either an insult or very cleverly disguised double talk. Ariel would bet her vault full of galleons he’d make a great secret agent.

After perusing the bookstore, Hermione and Ariel had gotten new parchment, ink, and a set of matching quills. She also found a book on potions that, after perusing through it, seemed to be a beginners guide to inventing your own. She would’ve loved to have had it while still at the Dursleys and bored out of her skull and wondered if they’d discovered the batch she’d had in the attic yet. It had been two weeks, it must’ve smelled something awful by now.

With that thought in mind, Ariel was feeling much better as they met the Weasleys at Flourish and Blotts.

That was, until she met Gilderoy Lockhart.

—--------

After shadowing the little nitwits for an hour, Severus found that children had even less of an attention span than he’d been previously led to believe.

He had been correct in assuming they’d been scheming, because the second they separated from the rest of the group, the three of them huddled their heads and whispered loudly amongst themselves. Severus was enough of a distance away, but he knew exactly what they were talking about. It didn’t take a genius to deduce they’d been wondering what the house elf could have possibly meant, and right now, three twelve year old Gryffindors sticking their noses into things they couldn’t possibly understand was a bigger threat than anything Lucius could have done. They could huddle and gossip and speculate, but couldn’t spend more than ten minutes at any of the fucking shops lining the alley.

They had ended up in front of Flourish and Blotts with the rest of the Weasley-spawn. She-Weasley whispered something to Granger and Miss Evans that made Granger go bright red but the girl found it amusing. She pointed up to the front of the store, where a rather large mass of people were beginning to gather.

Severus then regrettably caught sight of the banner in the window, a rush of loathing flowing through him like a current breaking through a dam. It was enough that the students had no structure when it came to Defensive magic, but to give the position to Gilderoy Lockhart — who’s own self infatuation was so large that it would only hinder any sort of learning — seemed irresponsible. None of the rest of the staff had children, but Severus found himself not only infuriated over being passed over yet again, but because of his own child’s education in an area she desperately needed to have a firm grasp of. The most the little shits had learned had probably come from Dumbledore, who practically turned into a beam of light when Miss Evans had approached him at the end of last year and expressed how much she’d enjoyed it.

The girl and her cronies melded into the crowd. At the front, Severus could hear applause as Lockhart waltzed out. It was almost hard to believe that there was someone who could outdo Dumbledore in terms of outlandish fashion — and Dumbledore wore sequins, sometimes. Severus usually avoided the Great Hall on those days, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stomach anything in such company.

The girl did not look impressed. In fact, her and Weasley-twerp snickered as Granger shot them a cross look. Severus was surprised to see her caught in rapturous infatuation like everyone else in the crowd.

“Itcan’tbe Ariel Evans!” Lockhart called across the sea of heads, who snapped in the girl’s direction.

Miss Evans looked like she had a broomstick for a spine. She went so rigid so quickly that she seemed almost frozen before she began backing away. The crowd parted like a black hole, sucking her forward.

“No, no thank you—” Miss Evans was protesting,

Severus un-Disillusioned himself and stepped forward into the crowd of insipid, hormonal halfwits.

She somehow managed to spot him, but after reevaluating his surroundings, he realized that he probably stuck out quite a bit. The majority of the crowd were women and children and Severus was the creep who stalked Hogwarts’ dungeons. Her face clearly read“help me”as the photographer motioned for her to join Lockhart in front of the camera, and the girl was refusing to move any closer.

Lockhart’s hand tugged back a strand of hair from her face. She slapped his hand away, her expression both shocked and annoyed, but no one else seemed to notice.

If he touched her again, Severus was going to slice his hand clean off. Dumbledore would be displeased, but Lockhart would be fine with only one manicured set of nails. Maybe he’d write another fucking book about it.

“Nice big smile, Ariel,” Lockhart said through teeth that put the brightness of the lights to shame. “Together, you and I are worth the front page.”

He grabbed her hand in a handshake. The girl looked like she wanted the ceiling to crush them all to death.

“C’mon lass, smile —” the photographer crooned.

Good enough for me,Severus thought, unsheathing his wand from his sleeve. If Dumbledore could get him out of Azkaban for being a Death Eater, he could certainly get him out for assault.

“Move,”Severus snarled at a pair of younger witches, who were pressed up against one another to push the line forward. They gave him a look of outrage as he tried to shove past them, but there were too many bloody fucking people.

The girl shot Lockhart a glare Severus was almost impressed with. He might’ve even been proud if she’d thrown the camera a rude gesture as it clicked, wafting thick smoke in front of Severus’ view of her. He could hear Lockhart making some obnoxiously loud announcements about his tenure at Hogwarts and free textbooks.

She wretched free of him only to be saddled with a pile of books that was almost as big as her. She quickly dumped them into She-Weasley’s cauldron as Granger beamed. Severus couldn’t hear what they were saying over the applause and excited chatter, but Lockhart seemed to be done with her. He put away his wand for now, but if he exploited her again for the press, Dumbledore was going to have to find a new Defense professor. He’d be doing them all a favor, really.

When he looked back to Miss Evans, Lucius and Draco had materialized beside her. Fuckingshit —where the hell had they —

He watched closely as the girl balled her fists at her sides. Lucius eyed her with an air of sinister curiosity and disgust, while Draco looked like he was going to start swinging at Weasley-twerp, who probably already would have had he not been carrying a pile of books. Severus stood still, waiting — Lucius wouldn’t do anything in plain sight, but Severus felt the hairs of the back of his neck stand up straight. Anxiety and worry pulsed through him but he forced it down down down —

Arthur Weasley finally intervened. Severus was relieved for about twenty-two seconds, until his fist collided with Lucius’ left eye.

For fuck’s sake, had everyone lost their damn mind? He looked at the girl, but Granger had pulled her away from the brawl. The Weasley-spawn cheered the same way they would a Quidditch match. The midst of the shouting and the shopkeeper desperately trying to break them up, Severus saw his opportunity.

Severus positioned himself outside so that when Lucius broke through the crowd with Draco a moment or so later, Severus was standing there, looking bored and off put by the raucous display. Lucius was sporting what would undoubtedly turn into a black eye.

“You’ll need jewelweed for that,” he said.

Lucius stopped, irate, but seemed to settle when he saw who had spoken. He tilted his head. “Severus — you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

He could only imagine what he looked like. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a shower.

“Mother’s said she’s Owled you for brunch.” Draco said, who immediately looked like he regretted it. He eyed his father cautiously, but Lucius was unphased.

She had — it had been earlier in the summer, when he’d still be visiting the girl. “I was away — traveling.”

“I see,” Lucius glanced down at Draco. “I believe it was to discuss our son joining the Quidditch team.”

Severus couldn’t have given a flying fuck about Quidditch, but he did what he had to. “I’ll certainly see what I can do.”

Lucius smiled. “You’ve always had more sense than most, Severus.”

Draco looked rather pleased, but his expression quickly darkened. Severus turned to see the Weasleys exiting the bookstore, the girl and Granger trailing behind as Mrs Weasley shouted angrily. The girl craned her head about, searching until their eyes met.

Her face fractured when she saw him, and who he was with.

Disappointment, maybe even a touch of betrayal. That had been the worst glare Lily had given him — hatred he could handle, but not the knowing glower ofI expected better of you.No one ever had, except for Lily, and now their daughter. The difference was that Lily had known what he’d been capable of, and their daughter hadn’t even begun to scratch the surface.

“What do you know about her, Severus?” Lucius asked in an offhand manner, like it was an afterthought. Severus knew better though — he wouldn’t have wasted his breath on Miss Evans if he wasn’t interested.

“There isn’t much to know,” Severus said, trying to keep his voice smooth. “What have you heard?”

“I know that she beat my son to a pulp,” Lucius glared at Draco like a bug stuck to his shoe. The boy went pink.

“She is…”the only twelve-year-old with this many mortal enemies.“Temperamental.”

“Interesting,” he said, and his tone told Severus he didn’t find it interesting at all. “you would think the limelight would curb any of those Muggle impulses. Although, her surname seems more fitting now, knowing that even with a year of magical training, nothing could really wash her of that Muggle upbringing.”

Severus had a brief mental image of his fist closing around Lucius' throat, his face turning purple as he gasped and struggled and begged. He mournfully let it pass.

“Just look at the company she keeps,” Lucius motioned to the Weasleys and Granger with a look of abhorrent disgust.

“Weasley is the worst,” Draco muttered under his breath. “And Evans, with her stupid scar, thinking she’s worth the front page of the Prophet —”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that quite enough,” Lucius said sharply. Draco’s mouth snapped shut audibly.

“They’ll learn their lesson soon enough,” he then said in a voice so low, Severus almost had to strain to hear it. His grey eyes flitted from the girl to the Weasleys, who were making their way away from the bookstore.

His heart skipped a beat and then doubled time.

Severus raised his eyebrows in mock interest. “Do tell,”

Lucius only smiled, one that stretched his mouth in all the wrong ways. “Delay is a bitter tonic,” he said. “But it increases appetite.”

—--------------

Ariel sat up in bed, fiddling with the coin. Below her, on the bottom bunk, Ginny was snoring, and Hermione was still awake on the floor reading a book on house elves she’d bought while at Diagon Alley that day.

She couldn’t sleep, or rather, she hadn’t been able to sleep. There were too many jumbled thoughts racing through her head and she didn’t know where to begin.Take care of it,Snape had said. What did that even mean? How did he expect Ariel to just forget about the terrible thing that was coming to Hogwarts?

(she wished she’d had a warning last year, too)

It made her feel a little better knowing he hadn’t been purposefully ignoring her. She’d thought his brain was going to come steaming out of his ears when she’d told him what she suspected Dobby of doing, but he hadn’t lost it on her like he had last time. He just wore that condescending sneer… until he didn’t, and for a moment, it would feel like he maybe did care just a little bit about her and not because her mum had told him to.

Scrubbing that thought from her mind, Ariel flipped the coin through her fingers. She’d been so relieved to see him in Knockturn Alley, especially after just barely missing the Malfoys.

And Snape knew the Malfoys — he talked with Draco’s dad for a few minutes, sending her Don’t You Dare You Idiot glares from outside the store, even though she wanted to march over and demand to know everything. Mr Malfoy had looked down at her like she was a bug he couldn’t wait to squash. He looked at Draco that way too, sometimes. She’d seen it in the creepy shop in Knockturn Alley and in Flourish and Blotts. She could say loads about Snape, but he’d never looked at her that way — like she was disappointing him. The thought made her stomach do backflips.

I don’t see what all the fuss is about —Lucius sounded a whole lot like Snape, but Snape had never insulted how she looked. Then again, looks didn’t seem to matter much to Snape. His hair had been sticking together in greasy clumps. Lucius’ hair looked like it had gotten a blow-dry or something.

Fred and George had said Ariel and Mr Weasley could start their own club now, since they’d both punched a Malfoy in the face. Mrs Weasley had gotten so mad that she’d made them eat supper in their rooms, but when Ariel had gone to use the loo later, they’d told her they were going to get her a badge of honor.

The day had sort of been mental, now that Ariel thought about it. How had Snape known where she was, though? Was he tracking her somehow? That seemed like a very Snape thing to do, but how —

She glanced down at the coin. There was no way…

Except there was. Snape could be sneaky that way, but so could she, if she wanted to.

“Hermione?” she asked in a whisper, careful not to wake Ginny. “I’m going to go for a walk.”

She sat up, already halfway throughYour House Elf and You.“Now? Ariel, it’s the middle of the night!”

“You’restill up,” Ariel pointed out. “Besides, I can’t sleep.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “Where are you going?”

She held up the coin wordlessly. Hermione’s eyes fell back down to the book, like she was about to look up the right answer. “You really shouldn’t…”

“They won’t even know I’m gone.”

Hermione sighed as Ariel slid off the bed quietly. Ginny had begun to snore lightly. Underneath her pillow, Ariel could see the edge of a book tucked away. Ginny didn’t seem like the type of person to have a diary but Ariel wasn’t judging.

“Do you have to do it now?” Hermione bit her lip.

“He owes me,” Ariel said, trying to sound indifferent, but the hurt of the last time he’d seen her still stung a bit.

“You’ll come straight back when you’re done?”

“I will,” she promised. “If I’m not back in an hour, wake the Weasleys. The gnomes had probably taken me as a hostage.”

Hermione smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Be careful, okay? I’ll watch from the window.”

Ariel crept down the stairs and through the kitchen. The Weasley’s clock ticked away softly, everyone accounted for. The chaos from dinner was still cleaning itself, even though everyone had been in bed for a few hours now. When she’d passed Fred and George’s room, she could see the light underneath the door changing colors. She could only imagine what they were up to at this hour.

She trekked up the hill behind their house, twisting the coin around her fingers. If she got to the treeline and nothing happened, she was going to head straight back. There was a log up ahead she could wait on if anything, just so she didn’t get lost. The last thing she wanted to do was worry the Weasley’s, but if her theory was correct, Snape should be showing up right about —

There was a sharpcrack,like thunder had struck and then regretted it. When Ariel spun around he was there, fists balled tightly at his sides.

Ariel bit back a smile.

—---------------

The girl looked like she was trying to swallow back some smarmy remark as she tucked the coin back into her pocket. She was clearly not supposed to be out here, which she must have known, because she was wearing a ridiculously oversized Quiddtich t-shirt, no doubt courtesy of one of the Weasley-spawn, and mismatched socks. Her Muggle sneakers were on the wrong feet.

Sometimes, Severus wondered how the girl had made it this long. He’d Apparated as soon as his pocketwatch had alerted him — he’d done that in case she ended up somewhere she shouldn’t, like tonight, when it had lit up a bright crimson and readforest.

He had a feeling this was no accident, though. He knew it for certain when she crossed her arms at him, as if to say,“well, get on with it, then.”

The trees rustled around them, as if waiting with baited breath for one of them to break the silence. Severus could feel the urgency leaving him, replaced with an irksome, suspicious feeling, one that settled into his brain like fog.

“I’m very cross with you,” she said when he didn’t speak.

He wanted to be angrier but he couldn’t find the strength to. “If you summoned me here to try to speak to my conscience —”

“Does the Tracking charm work both ways?” Miss Evans interrupted.

He’d forgotten how unforgivingly blunt she could be. Lily had been the same way. She’d been worse, though. When she’d gotten emotional — angry, sad, disappointed, even joyful — it was like a stream of consciousness. He tried to think of whether that was genetic or a symptom of being a Gryffindor.

Well, it didn’t take a genius to figure out he’d been keeping an eye on her whereabouts. He was surprised she hadn’t put two and two together sooner.

“I don’t know,” Severus replied nastily. “Does it?”

Her smugness faltered. “I don’t know how to use it that way.”

“Then perhaps you should concern yourself with expanding your knowledge of Charms,” he said bitingly. “Instead of crying wolf. If you pull this nonsense again, I will let the minotaur or werewolf or whatever it is have its way with you.”

Her face flickered, like a candle about to be doused. “I wanted to talk to you, too.”

CHILDREN —he wanted to scream.

He closed his eyes. “We already spoke today.”

“Not enough.”

MORE than enough, you ridiculous girl —

He could feel the tension in his temples blossoming into a migraine. “Then —what —”he forced through clenched teeth. “Is — it?”

“You were right about Lockhart,” she said, kicking the dirt.

He’d never wanted to string someone's bowels through their nose so badly in his life. He hadn’t felt hatred like that since Potter. The Dark Lord and Quirrell fell into a separate category entirely.

“He is a blithering idiot,” Severus said coolly. “We established this already.”

“Well I was right about Lucius Malfoy, too,” she stared him straight in the eye, then, her precision like an arrow. “Heisa real prat.”

Severus’ eyes narrowed. “You should have walked away.”

“Draco started it,” she argued childishly. “You should have heard what they were saying about Ron’s family.”

“I can imagine,” the girl made a sound of pure outrage at this. “The Malfoys think themselves above most things — even the law.”

Her expression changed and shifted into one of coldness. She paused, like she was debating whether or not to say whatever she was thinking. “Are you —friendswith the Malfoys? I saw you talking with them.”

Severus blinked. “I’m notfriendswith anyone.”

“You were friends with Mum.”

Of fucking course she would mention that. “That was different.”

“How?”

She was the only one that mattered

“Lucius and I,” he paused. “worked very closely for some time.”

The girl quirked an eyebrow at him.“Where?”

Murdering, looting, spying —

“Very briefly after I graduated from Hogwarts,” he paused. “He assisted me in a potions apprenticeship.”And brought me to the Dark Lord to be Marked.

She still didn’t look convinced. “Ron said… said that Draco’s family supported Voldemort.”

Severus went very still, keeping his face smooth as glass.

She grimaced, and sat down on the log, her face deep in thought. She looked lost, and even though he wanted to throttle her, the anger began to dissipate. It was replaced with a hollow feeling that settled in the pit of his stomach, one that ached.

“What is it now?” Severus asked, exasperated. His head was throbbing.

The girl didn’t answer. She picked up a stick and impaled the ground with it repeatedly.

“My verbal articulation has been lost on my offspring, apparently.” he said flatly.

She rolled her eyes and threw the stick into the darkness. “What if… what if what happened last year happens again? I just can’t help thinking with people like the Malfoys around… and Dobby…”

Severus stiffened, but she hadn’t made the connection — she couldn’t have. First thing in the morning he’d go to Dumbledore and tell him what he’d found, but for tonight, he was working on something that would keep the girl safe. It wouldn’t be ready for a while but he would make sure she had it when the time came.

“I just hate that I was used,” she said. Her eyes flashed like a lighthouse, sending its signal out to sea, searching and searching for someone.

I won’t let it happen again,he wanted to say, but that wasn’t what she wanted to hear — needed to hear. It weighed her down on that log, her back hunched over as she stared at the dirt and her backwards shoes.

“There are very few people that can say they have survived an encounter with the Dark Lord,” Severus said. “It speaks far more to your strength that even under his influence, you survived.”

The girl’s eyes burned gold. Her face twitched like she wanted to smile — or cry. Gods, if she started fucking crying, Severus was going to —

“I told Hermione an hour,” the girl said. “Then she’s supposed to alert the cavalry.”

Severus glanced down at the pocket watch. “It’s nearly midnight.”

“Do you have somewhere to be?”

“Do you have someone else to harass?”

“Hermione’s reading and Ginny’s asleep.” the girl glanced at the empty spot on the log and then back at him.

Something tugged at Severus, beneath the smoldering anger, that pulled him towards the log.



To be continued...


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