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

———