A/N: This author's note is just to say I hope you're healthy, safe and COVID-free xx And thanks for still reading!

Crack!

The sound of splintering wood cut through the classroom. It was enough of a disturbance for even the usually oblivious Professor Binns to look mildly surprised. Asha swore under her breath and leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the cool surface of the cupboard door and wondered why the fuck she had just done something so insanely out of character...

Fuck. This kind of stuff never happened to Asha. She was always so observant, so aware, so in control. But she had felt increasingly as though she was losing her grip for quite some time now, and this was plain hard evidence. For the past few weeks, she had been finding it impossible to switch off her swirling thoughts and storms of emotions. Why was her previously highly effective strategy of simply shutting down any unhelpful internal distress now failing her?

One problem that now hovered over her, day and night, was that feeling of wrongness. It was impossible to explain. In her early years at Hogwarts, she had passed it off as a stupid figment of her angsty pre-teen imagination. But now, she kept stumbling across information that just didn't add up; her impossible case of Paselmouth with no reasonable explanation of its origin; that Boggart that couldn't read her for her greatest fear... something must be wrong with her. She knew something was wrong with her - she could feel it. But she couldn't put her figure on it, like when a word's on the tip of your tongue... just out of reach.

And on top of this insufferable sensation of wrongness, Asha was feeling more isolated and at odds with her peers than ever. Things were getting on her nerve far more easily. More than ever, she felt as though she didn't belong with the Hufflepuff crowd, or any of the student body really. The petty issues that consumed the lives of the students at Hogwarts were ludicrously trivial. Why, the fact that Terry Boot didn't ask Jules to Hogsmeade on valentines day, was the most sensational topic for a whole week was unfathomable to Asha. And with the way Matt reacted to his transfiguration essay result, you'd've thought Voldemort himself had returned. Do they have no perspective? Do they not understand how idiotic and pathetic they sound? Asha felt like she was surrounded by children and remaining patient, comforting and bubbly was exasperating and exhausting.

She had more significant things on her mind than the mean comment Draco Malfoy had made to Alisha about her new hair cut. Terrible, unjust and traumatic things had occurred in Asha's life that she doubted any students at Hogwarts could understand. Every day she faced ceaseless, gut-wrenching guilt for the horrific mistakes she'd made, while Maive grumbled on about her Quidditch team's loss.

As Asha sat in History of Magic, barely listening to Professor Binns' monotonous drone about witch hunts of the 14th century, her group of friends were whispering excitedly.

"I heard that Cedrick Diggory is gonna ask out Tamsin Applebee"

"No way! Everyone knows Malcolm Preece has had a crush on her for years and he's Cedrick's best mate!"

"They're not best mates! Sure, they've played quidditch together for ages but I don't think they're that close."

"Well Maxine told me that ..."

Asha was doing her best to look engaged in the conversation but her insides were churning. Why were her friends such children? But she already knew the answer: they'd never held a cold, limp infant in their arms; they'd never watched, at the age of ten, their twin brother be crushed by a bus in front of their eyes. Asha's sudden rage was growing exponentially. Her emotions were getting out of control and her thoughts were all over the place. For the rest of her life, she'd have to carry that feeling of Cole's hand being ripped away from hers, just as instantly as he was -

In an instant, Asha's inner turmoil seemed to exceed an invisible threshold. Her friendly smile contorted and she stood up with such violence that her chair tumbled backwards onto the stone floor. Before her table of friends had registered the movement, Asha had taken a furious step towards the cabinet of spare textbooks that stood adjacent to their table. Unable to produce a single rational thought, Asha swung her fist as hard as she could, channelling all her pent up rage and fear and desolation from the past month into that cupboard door.

Crack!

Despite being mortified at what she had just done, she immediately felt some relief. After a few beats of stunned silence from the class, Asha registered a warm, tickling sensation around her right hand and she pulled her fist from the splintered hole that now decorated the front of the cabinet. The jagged edges of the inwardly bent wood tore at her already bleeding skin but she could hardly feel the pain, for what she was feeling within was far more excruciating.

Without so much as a remorseful glance at Professor Binns, Asha turned on her heel, unconsciously reaching her uninjured arm out behind her and causing her bag to fly into her hand like by a powerful magnetic force, and marched out of the room.

On her way out of the castle, Asha threw her bag carelessly down the marble stairs that lead to the kitchen corridor, off which was the entrance to her common room, before striding down the grassy hill towards Hagrid's cabin, not caring who saw her. Mercifully, the gamekeeper wasn't home. Asha walked around to the back of the cabin to a mossy pile of stones that lent up against the outside wall. She tapped one of the rocks three times with her wand. The pile of rubble parted and rolled to the side, revealing a wooden cellar door. Asha used her wand to pull open the door, perhaps unnecessarily aggressively. She pointed her wand into the darkness and prayed to Merlin Hagrid had visited the Hog's Head recently.

"Accio Firewhisky" Asha breathed, saying the words for good measure.

A brown bottle of Ogden's Old came soaring into the daylight. Wasting no time, Asha uncorked the bottle and took a large swig. The liquid burned down her throat, spreading warmth through her chest. She took another healthy mouthful before lazily flicking her wand, causing the cellar door to slam shut and the rocks to rumble back into their concealing position.

The Hogwarts grounds were still deserted, so Asha strolled up to a large rocky outcrop in the hillside and sat down in the long grass, back leant against the cool stone. Here, no one would be able to see her from the castle and it was unlikely anyone visiting Hagrid's cabin would look over this way carefully enough to spot her.

Asha had not forgotten that today was Buckbeak's execution. She could see the poor Hippogriff chained in Hagrid's pumpkin patch, unaware that before sundown his eagle head would be savagely separated from his horse hind. Asha hadn't interacted with Buckbeak more than a handful of times. It was more the injustice of the situation that irked her and she suddenly had a sadistic urge to force herself to watch the beheading. Her fury at the disgustingly pathetic behaviour of Draco Malfoy and his power-hungry father only added fuel to the fire that was burning within her. Luckily, the Firewhisky was working wonders. After many more swigs, Asha felt pleasantly numb and relaxed. She was oddly able to pay no mind to passing thoughts that would usually have consumed her.

After a while (Asha had no way of knowing exactly how long), the grassy hills ahead of her were rolling like a furry green ocean and the white clouds were swirling in a mesmerising fashion. She felt more content and at ease than she had done in months.

A strange dark blob was swimming up the hill towards Asha.

"Proffesssssor," Asha slurred.

Professor McGonagall snatched the bottle - now two thirds empty - away from Asha and examined the label.

"Miss Winters!" Apparently McGonagall was too shocked to think of any further scolding remarks. She whipped out her wand and the bottle vanished.

Thanks to the Firewhisky, Asha was feeling so content and calm that the fact McGonagall was dragging her up to the castle by her robes couldn't have bothered her less. She quickly found herself being half pushed half carried into an empty classroom, where McGonagall finally released her. Asha slumped onto a table and lay on her back, watching the rafters and blurry candlelight spin - it was a pleasant spin.

"Do not move from this room, Miss Winters! Not that it seems as if you are capable of doing so." McGonagall's stern words floated over Asha like wispy white clouds. She was just beginning to appreciate the warm buzzing was feeling in her body when the classroom door swung open.

"Here she is."

Asha turned her head to see the tall, dark figure of undoubtedly Professor Snape standing over her, McGonagall hovering behind him looking both murderous and a touch concerned. Asha's brain was moving sluggishly. Why was Snape here? What did...

"Good afternoon, Winters. I hear that instead of attending your classes, you've been enjoying a sophisticated one-woman party," he said.

What was he holding... Is that a... NO! With a jolt, Asha's brain had finally realised what was going on. She attempted to leap from the table but instead stumbled sideways and only managed to stay on her feet by grasping onto the stone window sill that had fortuitously appeared in her path.

"I donwanit," she said thickly, dragging herself away from the slowly approaching Snape.

"Tough," he said. Then, without warning, he was pushing a damp cloth into her face.

"No, noo!" Asha covered her mouth and nose with her hand and stumbled backwards into the corner, trying desperately to push him away with her free hand. She didn't want this feeling of peace taken from her.

"Winters!" he snapped through gritted teeth.

Her efforts to keep him at bay were totally ineffective and Snape pulled Asha's hand away from her face with ease. As she struggled against him, he wrapped his other arm behind her neck to hold her head still as he pressed the strong-smelling cloth to her mouth and nose. Immediately the pleasant fogging of reality cleared and Asha's coordination and quick thinking returned to her, as well as the heavy emotions that the Firewhisky has so effectively numbed. She stopped struggling against Snape's hold and he released her.

"Back with us, I see?" he said, "A very effective potion this is, though unfortunately headaches and sensitivity to light are common side-effects..." (Asha's head was pounding like it'd been hit with a bludger) "...I've been forced to use it on a dozen students over the years, though not one of them had the nerve to put up such a fearsome fight," he mocked.

"Miss Winters, what were you thinking!" exclaimed McGonagall, quickly approaching from the other end of the room. Asha felt deeply unhappy to have been dragged back into reality and slumped into a chair, bracing herself for the repercussions. "Where on Earth did you get that foul drink from? I'm certain you are aware that consumption of that substance is illegal for any underaged witch or wizard. And in the middle of the afternoon! I am-"

"I heard you caused quite a stir up in Professor Binns class today," Snape interrupted.

"What's this?" said Professor McGonagall sharply.

Asha refused to look at either of them, staring instead at an old scorch mark on the desk. Snape met eyes with McGonagall and nodded towards the door.

"You will stay," said Snape, and the two of them left the room. Asha knew that on the other side of the door they were talking about her. Maybe they would take pity on her - think she'd had some kind of mental break down. The thought made her feel sick. She would much rather they yelled and punished her for breaking the rules... the former was far too close to the truth.

The door opened once more and Snape entered, this time alone.

"Has she gone to get Professor Flitwick?" Asha asked.

"No. I convinced her that I could adequately handle the situation."

Asha looked at him wearily. He pulled up a chair at sat opposite her, his arms resting on the table between them, fingers interlocked.

"What is going on?" he demanded.

"What do you mean?" said Asha, taken aback by this interrogation.

"There are clearly things bothering you. The Headmaster refuses to admit you are involved in anything out of the ordinary but I know that is a lie."

"You've asked Dumbledore about me?!" Asha could feel the beginnings of panic in her chest.

"Look Winters, you're clearly distressed. Tell me what it is and I can help you."

This statement made Asha's blood boil. How dare he! As if anyone could help her. He just wanted information out of her. What information was he expecting? He shouldn't be thinking of her as anything out of the ordinary! She took a deep breath.

"It's nothing, Professor. Really, I'm fine. I've just been stressed with all the homework we've been given lately. Besides, it's normal for students to have their occasional bouts of mischief, wouldn't you agree? It must be the hormones - I'm at that age aren't I?" She flashed him her sweetest, most innocent, timid smile. Perhaps if she made him sufficiently uncomfortable he would back off.

To her surprise, he didn't even flinch. Instead, he stood up, hands braced on the table, looming over her.

"Don't play games with me, Asha Winters" he was talking slowly and quietly. "You may have the rest of this castle fooled, but not me. Stop with this ridiculous facade!"

Asha's heart missed a beat. What was he talking about?

He must have registered the shock on her face because for a split second a hint a triumph flickered in his expression.

"I don't put on a facade," said Asha quietly, anger seeping into her voice.

"Oh really?", Snape drawled, "Well, my mistake then, it must have been genuine giggling I heard from you over breakfast yesterday with your little Hufflepuff friends"

"I don't giggle," she said through gritted teeth. He raised his eyebrows at her. With her already fragile emotional state in combination with her raging headache, this pushed her over the edge. She stood up and pressed her hands into the table, now matching Snape's stance, and stared fiercely into his black eyes, their faces inches apart.

"You filthy hypocrite," she snarled. He took a step back, not breaking eye contact.

"Excuse me?"

"You are a filthy fucking hypocrite!" Asha yelled. "Don't you dare start lecturing me about facades! You stride around this school like you're an unfeeling, bank-faced, intimidating bully! At least I don't let my shit affect other people - you seem to make it your mission to make others' lives misery!"

"Oh there she is," said Snape quietly, "the real Asha Winters".

Asha stared at him, feeling her nails digging into her palms and the clenched muscles of her jaw. Then, all of a sudden, her fury drained and she felt utterly defeated. She didn't care about anything anymore. She felt exhausted and broken. She was so, so tired... Tired of battling. Tired of existing.

She slumped back into her chair and bent forward over the table, burying her head in her arms. As much as she didn't want him to see her in such a vulnerable state, she was too drained of energy to care. He knows I'm messed up anyways, she thought bleakly. Tears threatened to pool but she pushed the emotions down. She heard Snape sit back down. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke.

"Asha, at some point you're going to have to decide whether or not it's worth living behind this mask."

She sat up slowly. The fact the Snape had seen through her act; like he almost had a grasp of the true her... it made her feel strange. It was a breath of fresh air. She felt... a little safer maybe... or a little less alone.

"You look dreadful," he said, scanning her face.

"Yeah, well, I feel it" Asha croaked.

Snape gave her one last searching look before saying "You need some sleep."