Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, places and events belong to JKR and obviously I don't make money using them.
Huge thanks to Seph7, who has made the story readable.
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This is an introduction explaining the origin of my character, Ariadne. It isn't necessary, but I would recommend you to read it, anyway.
I've always thought in the golden trio there was a fourth one missing. Another female character. An intelligent one but more on the brilliant-genius side than on the studious one. An adventurous one, a naughty one, getting closer to the Weasley twins than any of the integrants of the trio. It could have been Ginny, but by the time she started to show her true colours in the books, I already had another character formed. I think J.K.R. tried to fuse the inventiveness of the Weasley twins with the hard work, responsibility and morals in the figure of Hermione. However, in my mind Hermione should have been split into two different characters, Hermione herself and my character, Ariadne.
Ariadne would be, then, the brilliant type, bordering on genius. She wouldn't be as studious or hardworking as Hermione; in fact she would have to be hard pressed to study some subjects except those which interest her; she would have no rival, being an investigable researcher and a quick learner. She would be fascinated by the dark arts and would have learned – successfully - Occlumency and Legilimency at the same time as Harry (to justify this sometimes I would include her in the prophecy as Harry's guardian or something like that).
She would have a deep knowledge and understanding of the dark arts and would respect them, not being as disgusted by them as the others. That would make her closer to Harry than Hermione or Ron because she would be able to understand Harry's "dark part" without being judgemental. This would also make her quite less proper than Hermione, more relative (morally speaking), to sum up, more Slytherin. If you want to reduce it to the mix of two characters, I would say Ariadne is the Weasley twins and Severus Snape, to whom I have always paired her.
Maybe one day, out of curiosity, I will rewrite the JKR's books from my point of view – including Ariadne - but I think that day is far, far away. I started imagining Ariadne long before HBP and DH, so sometimes I am compliant but generally, I am not. Yes, I know I took too many liberties with the Harry Potter characters and story but… this is a fanfic, if I can't take them here, where can I?
This piece is set during in the aftermath of the war. Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord around the end of his seventh year in Hogwarts. Dumbledore and Snape - of course! - are alive. So are Lupin, Tonks and Fred – I can't think of them as dead.
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Two weeks. Only two weeks have gone in a blow of wind since The-Day-When-It-All-Ended. At least that's what he had started to call it. The papers, however, had a great variety of names, referring to it as the "Victorious Day", the "Glory Day", and a great list of similarly pompous adjectives, with the exception of the occasional "Hogwarts Battle Day". Yes, definitely that would be my favourite of them.
These musings were the ones Severus Snape was entertaining while walking towards the Headmaster's office. Though severely injured in the battle, the Headmaster was released from St. Mungo's in less than a week. However, his weakened state was painfully obvious, both magically and physically. Fortunately - or unfortunately; it depends on the occasion - his mind was as sharp as ever, being still the main head in the Order. Even now, in the aftermath of war, when life was the most fragile and the Order members were scattered, some of them dead, most of them grieving, Dumbledore managed to keep them together.
He was, after all, Albus Dumbledore, probably the most brilliant and loved Headmaster of Hogwarts; the fatherly figure, though manipulative at times, but always there. For that, Snape respected the older man and had a profound affection for him, even though in the last years the disappointment and resentment have been quietly seeping into his heart, becoming a constant dull ache, even more pronounced now that his burden as a spy has been lifted. Now the permanent scowl seemed softer, having been replaced by a subtle cloud of melancholy lurking behind his eyes.
His role has been revealed, his allegiances proven and those, whom before looked at him with open distaste, now did it with, at least grudgingly, respect. He was no longer the Greasy Git of the Dungeons or the cruel Death Eater. He supposed people would expect him to change, to drop the mask, but he no longer knew what the mask was. The cold bastard he had portrayed all these years came to fight with the man he had dreamed to be in his youth.
His old emotions, the old hatred and bitterness were mixing with a torrent of new ones, unleashed by the end of his servitude. Now was the time to change, and he was afraid. His unfortunate life had made him bitter, making him isolate himself in his own fortress, dreading the time when someone discovered that the seemingly unapproachable doors weren't locked, and at the same time wishing for that someone to hurry. The problem was, that person never came and the only chance he'd ever had had left him and he was as good as dead by his own hand. Until now…
Severus Snape came to a halt, and the cloud apparent within his features, became darker. She had been gradually filling his thoughts these last two years, and whenever she was present in his mind, his feelings were in conflict.
It's true, at first it was just respect, albeit grudgingly, for her capacity at Legilimency. She was a natural, managing to successfully learn the technique in a year and reaching his high level in roughly two.
But that wasn't what had first compelled him to her. It was her acceptance, and later, her warmth. She didn't judge him. When occasionally she breached into his mind she just observed him with her dark eyes. On those occasions, he always felt wary, but at the same time, relieved. At least someone has had glimpses of his miserable life and has not rejected him right away. At least someone knew.
But it hadn't been an easy path for them. It had taken them about a year and a half before they became comfortable around each other. Sometimes, when the session was especially hard on them, they even stayed a little longer in his study and reviewed the lesson with a cup of hot chocolate. It was all right for them. They'd managed to establish an unlikely kind of friendship, and he had clearly warmed towards the courageous Gryffindor, to whom he privately had started to think as 'the little panther', but then it all changed.
He probably would always remember the night of his revelation, in the beginnings of her seventh year, when she had fallen asleep in his armchair, feet tucked under her and her tired face glowing in the warm light emanating from the fire. When he had glanced her way, a deep ache had started to beat rhythmically in his chest and he'd had the sudden urge to gently stroke away the locks of dark hair that had fallen over her face. Because of these forgotten feelings, he had panicked: What the hell am I doing? She is a child! It doesn't matter that she's over age, she is a bloody child! My student; a Gryffindor student. Don't forget she's Harry Potter's friend, no less… What was I thinking?
He hadn't dared to touch her, even to wake her up. From that moment on, he became the same severe teacher he had been in the past; never giving her any hint of warmth and companionship that was once appreciated. Her answering hurt look haunted him for days.
Luckily not long after that, the Headmaster deemed it necessary to cancel his lessons, and have "the chat" with Snape. He somehow had noticed, even before Snape himself that the young woman was becoming important to him, and although he wasn't exactly opposed, he didn't think it would be a good idea "to act upon it at this time". Here Severus snorted; what was the old fool dreading? Me, falling for her? Her, fancying herself in a crush with the Bat of the Dungeons? Me, involved somehow with my student? And not any student, but her? The mere idea was preposterous…
He shook his head as if to make the thoughts fall to the ground and covered the few meters that rested between he and the gargoyle. With a muttered "Jelly Beans", he billowed onto the staircase, climbing up hurriedly; to escape from any possible phantoms his stray thoughts may have left down there.
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