A/N: Hello, wonderful readers!
This is an "It's Not That Simple" teen!AU, as requested. It can be read as a separate story. You will understand everything perfectly if you haven't read my main fic. I promise.
Those who have read the main story will notice the age of Severus's love interest has been modified (I needed her to be in Severus's year, so in this universe, she was born in 1959, not in 1964).
Trigger warnings: This story deals with the topic of domestic abuse. Nothing is detailed too graphically (I do not like reading about graphic gore scenes, let alone writing them myself). It is focused on the effects it has on the characters and how they deal with it rather than on the violence per se.
Similarly, miscarriages occur (again, blood may be mentioned, but I won't go into details).
Canon tells us that Severus was bullied by the marauders. In this fic, they bully him, too. The bullying includes sexual harassment (Severus's Worst Memory, fifth year).
There are sex scenes. The characters are 17 when they have their first sexual experience, adults in the Wizarding World. Sex is always consensual in this story.
Depression might be mentioned as well, though none of the main characters suffer from it, so it will not be the focus of the fic.
I tried to respect canon as much as possible while making the story mine. This fic is expected to have 14 chapters full of drama, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, fluff, some smut, and a pinch of family vibes. This chapter has not been betaed. If you're interested in becoming my beta, don't hesitate to contact me.
I hope you enjoy this multi-chaptered fic,
FFW
TITLE: A TALE OF TWO CROWS
CHAPTER 1: Second Year, Part 1
A professor with a Scottish accent had been calling first-year students for nearly half an hour. All this time, a nervous girl had been studying a multitude of students sitting at different tables, one per each school House. Although Hufflepuffs looked the friendliest, she wasn't at Hogwarts to make friends. Gryffindors were the loudest. She preferred not to draw attention to herself (a complex task, were she to be surrounded by them). The Ravenclaw table was way quieter. If she hadn't been occluding from the beginning of the Sorting Ceremony to veil her nerves, she might have smiled softly. It was so easy to imagine a young version of her mother and grandmother sitting at that table. She'd feel at home there. Her gaze never flickered over the Slytherin table. It couldn't be an option.
"Peakes, Giles," the girl heard the professor say.
As a slightly chubby boy sat on the stool in front of all the school and waited for the Sorting Hat to arrive at a decision, perspiration formed on her forehead. Surnames beginning with the letter R would start any time now. The moment of truth was around the corner.
"Gryffindor!"
Rather than cheering and clapping, the entire red table roared proudly. The girl had to wait several minutes for a Prescott girl, a Quintin boy, and two Ramsey twins to be sorted before her full name echoed across the Great Hall. With swift yet elegant steps, she sat on the stool and stared down at her lap in an unsuccessful attempt not to feel observed. A weight sat on her head immediately.
"Miss Riddle, I can still read your thoughts. There is no need to rely on Occlumency. They can't hear what I tell you either."
She stopped occluding, if only because it was tiring to do so for prolonged periods of time. If that's true, you know I want to be a Ravenclaw, she thought.
"Certainly. You have the wits and the passion for learning of your mother and grandmother. Always been a curious child with a powerful mind, haven't you?"
I'm a Horned Serpent, a scholar. The mind of the wizard.
"This isn't Ilvermorny. We sort students differently here. It isn't about who you are or what you represent. It is about what you value the most."
Knowledge.
"Ah, yes… That is highly important to you, but when you dig deeper, all that drive to learn comes from one wish: survival. Self-preservation is known to be particularly valued by a House that is not Ravenclaw."
I don't care. Please. I want to be a Ravenclaw. I need to prove to myself I'm not him. I'm not him.
The Sorting Hat made a humming sound. "In that case, your House is… Slytherin!"
Was the Sorting Hat mocking her? Maybe it wasn't. Maybe, being Slytherin's descendant, the notion of being sorted into any other House had been preposterous, to begin with. Her cheeks stung as if her father had just slapped her to remind her whose daughter she was and what was expected of her. Although her peers and future professors were applauding, with her strong occlumency walls rebuilt, she barely paid attention to the noise. She avoided looking at her supposedly fellow snakes and sat down beside a first-year boy that tried and failed to have some small talk with her. After that, no student dared ask her anything, not even where she came from.
All students were finally sorted. The feast commenced.
The bite of the shepherd's pie she was chewing appeared tasteless. By the looks of her peers, she was missing a great experience. But if she did it, if she wrecked her walls and allowed herself to feel and enjoy the meal, all the tears she was crying inside would emerge.
By the time half of her plate was empty, the effort of bottling up her emotions was provoking a pounding headache. The crowd (especially those Gryffindors) wasn't helpful. The loos' whereabouts, or any place private enough to shed her tears and wash her face, remained an enigma. The few students surrounding her were first-years, as lost as her and, due to her previous unfriendliness, unwilling to talk to her. Crossing the Great Hall and interrupting the teachers' dinner in front of the whole school to ask one of them where the toilet was wasn't something she fancied, thank you very much. Instead, she snuck out of the Great Hall, determined to find it on her own. Unbeknownst to her, a pair of grey eyes had been watching her.
She walked along the unfamiliar, gloomy corridors for minutes and cursed out loud when the staircase she had just begun to mount moved, causing her to nearly lose her balance. As only some portraits would witness it, she allowed herself to sit on a step of the staircase and let her tears flow freely. The staircase could keep moving for all she cared so long as no students stumbled upon her.
Shortly after, she removed her hands from her face and turned her head to the sound of footfalls coming from the bottom of the stairs. She moved not, hoping it was a Professor who would tell her where to find her dorm and maybe offer her a calming draught. A ghost, perhaps. The caretaker. The matron. The headmaster, who had allowed her to attend this school despite her surname. That groundskeeper Skyrah bet had some giant blood in him. Anyone but a student.
No such luck.
Though quite tall, the intruder wore a uniform. Once he was standing in front of her, she was able to see his platinum blond hair and sharp but elegant features, the same way she was sure he had seen her tears yet chose not to comment on them.
"In all my years at Hogwarts, you are the first new student I see who does not stay for dinner after the Sorting Ceremony," he said, offering his hand to help her stand up. "The food is superb."
Ignoring his hand, she rose to her feet. He wasn't used to his offers being declined (he had arched his eyebrow).
"I'm not hungry."
"Some first-years are homesick on their first day, or even in the first month. If–"
"I'm a second-year, and I'm not homesick," she said curtly.
"May I know the reason behind your… state then?"
"Why should I tell you? I don't even know your name."
"Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy. Your prefect," he introduced himself with an air of superiority that sickened Skyrah.
"Still not telling you."
He smirked, intrigued by her attitude. That her tears were of anger rather than sadness was now a fact. Angry with whom and why was a total mystery to him.
"Suspicious, aren't you? I can see why the Sorting Hat chose the House of Slytherin for you." She flinched, causing the smirk on his face to morph into a triumphant grin. "No snakes in your family? Slytherin is your new family from now on." No answer other than a scowl. "Has anybody shown you around, dear?"
"No, and I'd rather you didn't call me that."
"As you wish. I advise you to follow me so as to, at the very least, know where to find the dungeons. Our Common Room is located there."
She let him guide her even if reluctantly. The closer to the dungeons, the chillier it got. For most of the walk, he stayed quiet, like her, until he couldn't stand the silence anymore and asked, "Could you remind me of your name? Skylar? Skye?"
"Skyrah Andraste Riddle," she corrected him, aware he'd find out about her name sooner or later. "Since we aren't friends, I'd rather you called me Riddle when you address me."
"A peculiar surname, if I dare say."
"Why? Because it isn't listed in the Sacred Twenty-Eight families like yours? I would be careful if I were you. You have no idea about the blood that runs through my veins."
He narrowed his eyes at her threatening tone. Although Riddle wasn't on the famous list, she spoke like a pure-blood. Nothing about her body language suggested she was lying. It led Lucius to think 'Riddle' was either a non-British pure-blood family line or closely linked with pure-bloods of major influence.
"Is there anything else you need to tell me? I'm not a fool, Malfoy. Old students don't waste time on second-years. You want something out of me."
He halted. They had already reached the dungeons. "Are your motor skills as sharp as your mind?"
"Why?"
"Our keeper moved to France in summer and is now studying in Beauxbatons. Quidditch try-outs are taking place soon."
"Quodpot's never interested me. I have better things to focus on."
"Quodpot? The American variation?"
"I studied in the most prestigious North-American school for witches and wizards last year."
"I see… What other things do you focus on if not sports?"
"These must be the dungeons. I'll find the Common Room on my own."
"So you aren't going to tell me."
"Outstanding observation. No wonder they made you the Slytherin prefect."
Lucius let out a snort and put the tip of his wand under her chin, lifting her face.
"You are a good addition to our House, Riddle. I sense it. All the same, be careful not to use that sass of yours against teachers."
"I know how to behave myself."
"Excellent." He withdrew his wand. "The password is 'augurey feathers'."
Skyrah nodded curtly and wished him a good evening without looking back at him. It didn't take her long to find a door that opened at the whispered password. The first thing she noticed upon entering was that the light was tinged with greenish tones as soothing as the sound of the water currents from the lake. The second thing was the tapestries depicting Medieval History scenes. That was when she smiled for the very first time since she got on the Hogwarts Express.
For a moment, she forgot about the Sorting Hat's decision and examined the tapestries, carefully running her fingers through the fabric. While most girls her age idolized Quodpot and Quidditch players, she idolized Merlin. A dead man, and not a physically attractive one, judging by the way the tapestries represented him. Skyrah still found him far more interesting than the latest sporting celebrity, and took in every detail of the tapestries that explained his life and deeds. Salazar Slytherin appeared in many tapestries, as well. It was funny to think that Isolt Sayre and Voldemort were descendants of this same wizard. The former made the world a better place by founding a non-elitist school: Ilvermorny. The latter was so feared most people didn't dare say his name. Did that mean Skyrah could still do something good with her life, like Isolt? Or was she doomed to be just like her father?
If the Sorting Hat had shouted Ravenclaw, she might have been hopeful.
Tired, Skyrah looked for seats and found black-leathered sofas. All of them were empty bar the farthest one in which a boy that appeared to be about her age was reading a book. The chat with Lucius had agitated her. She didn't feel comfortable with him, and in an attempt to shun him, she had forgotten to ask him about the schedule and the location of the most important classrooms so that she wouldn't get lost again. Maybe the boy would aid her, but for that, she needed to show some degree of friendliness (Merlin help her with that), or he'd refuse to talk to her, as the first-years in the Great Hall. She was fine with him refusing to talk to her provided that it happened after she had acquired the information she required.
"Hi," she greeted him tentatively, sitting on the same sofa at a relative distance.
He answered not.
She cleared her throat and tried again. "I'm new here. I was wondering if you could tell me where to find the schedule for second-year students… Oh, sorry. I should've started introducing myself. The name's Skyrah Riddle."
She extended her hand for him to shake. Regardless, he remained immobile. Her hand fell limp on her lap. Even though she hadn't liked Lucius, he'd been polite enough with her. She'd give him that. This boy, with a nose too big for his face, hadn't even glanced at her. She took a big breath, telling herself to be patient, and tried to start a conversation. Perhaps he'd be more likely to assist her then.
"What year are you in?"
"Second," he drawled in a tone herself used when she wanted to be left alone, eyes fixed on the yellowish pages.
It wasn't enough to dissuade her. This close, she could see the book that captured his attention was about Potions, though, being honest with herself, she couldn't understand much of what she skimmed.
"My mother must have made a mistake, then. She didn't buy me this Potions book. It looks advanced… Who's the professor? He or she must be strict if this is the level second-years are expected to have."
When he finally looked at her, she let out a small gasp at the color of his eyes. She'd never seen someone so pale, as pale as herself, with such dark eyes.
"Most likely, your mother wasn't mistaken. This isn't the book we use in class. The teacher's Sluggy."
"Sluggy?" she repeated, covering her mouth to muffle a snigger.
His eyes analyzed her as she imagined he analyzed the quality of cauldrons.
"Professor Slughorn. He is our Head of the House, too."
"It doesn't sound like you like him very much if you nickname him Sluggy, of all things."
He shrugged. "Lily likes him, so I guess he isn't that bad."
"Who's Lily?"
"My best friend."
Her brown eyes scoured the room in search of other students she might have missed. There were none.
"Shouldn't she be reading with you?"
"She's a Gryffindor."
"Can't we invite students from other Houses?"
"Under no circumstances."
"Is she your only friend? You look a bit lonely."
"I'm not the one seeking conversation. I'd say you're the lonely one."
In Ilvermorny, nobody had dared take that tone with her. She shifted in her seat, caught unawares, and reflected on what he had said and what to do. This boy had no idea they used to call her the Ice Serpent. He was treating her like he'd treat anyone else, and that, even if he had been cutting with her, made her feel like a normal student for a change.
"You're right," she said eventually, which, by his quirked eyebrow, caught him by surprise. "I know nobody here, only the Slytherin prefect: Malfoy."
She didn't add her opinion on Lucius on purpose, knowing by experience that exercising caution was typically a safe choice. For all she knew, this boy could be just like the prefect… In fact, at the allusion to Lucius alone, those dark eyes shone brighter than she'd thought possible. It should have eased her: someone like Lucius was exactly the sort of student her father would approve of, the sort he expected her to form relationships with. It had the opposite effect on her, though, for those her father would approve of were the sort she couldn't bring herself to like.
"He's great, isn't he?" he asked.
"I don't know him well enough yet, but you seem to get on well with him."
The boy nodded. "Lucius and his girlfriend Narcissa are kind to me."
"You speak as if they were the only ones who treat you well."
His posture tensed. He lifted his book so that it would cover his face and, incidentally, his flushed cheeks. It occurred to her that the reason he had been immersed in a Potions book rather than feasting with his peers was, precisely, that most mistreated him like she had mistreated Pukwudgies, Wampuses, Thunderbirds, and Horned Serpents alike. Was that how she had made her classmates feel with her harsh remarks and glares?
Of course, it was.
That, and worse, going as far as making a bunch cry. A pang of terrible guilt seared her. Even though she couldn't apologize to them, she could try and treat this boy beside her, no matter what his loyalties and views on muggles, with respect. His pain was too big already. She wouldn't add to it.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"Yeah, right," he said in a sarcastic tone. "I should have known Potter and his gang would send someone to make fun of me when they saw I left the Great Hall. Being a new student, they must have chosen you, thinking you don't know about the Gryffindor and Slytherin rivalry. What did they promise you in exchange?"
She frowned. "I don't even know who they are. I talked to nobody during the time I stayed in the Great Hall. I ran away. Malfoy found me and took me here. You can ask him if you don't believe me."
The boy lowered his book enough for her to see those inquiring black eyes. "Why did you cry?"
"I never said I did," she retorted, tensing up.
"You didn't have to. Your nose and eyes are a tad red and puffy. If what you said is true, you ran away to cry. Why?"
She took so long to answer he assumed she wouldn't, and resumed the reading.
"You mentioned someone named Potter. I guess he makes you feel small..." Even though the boy didn't look at her, he had stopped turning a page mid-action. "Someone makes me feel small too. After the Sorting Hat's choice, I realized I'm becoming him. It was overwhelming. I didn't fancy being surrounded by so many people when all I needed was to cry for a while. I like breathing fresh air when I'm upset, but I'm not sure if going to the school's grounds when it's so dark is allowed. I was looking for the toilet when the staircase began moving, and I gave up. Later, Malfoy guided me to the dungeons."
He closed the book and turned his head to her, mouth half-open as if he couldn't quite grasp why someone would reveal something so personal to him of all people. To a stranger. Lily was his best friend – he was as certain of that as of the fact that bezoars are taken from the stomach of goats – yet he had never been as vulnerable in front of Lily as Skyrah was being with him. He'd never told Lily how small his father made him feel when he beat his mother or his own son; or how exhausting it was to be picked on every day at school. Admitting something like that took a level of bravery that made him wonder if the Sorting Hat was growing rusty over the years and sorting students like Skyrah to Houses they weren't destined to.
"I don't think you're becoming him, whoever he is," he told her. "You've had the chance to make me feel small too (most choose Potter's side to avoid being picked on themselves), but you haven't. You've been frank and… kind, even if I wasn't being friendly to you."
"You're mistaken. I'm not good at being kind."
"You are better at it than most guys and girls in this school."
No trace of occlumency tarnished the smile she gave him in response. It felt nice. It felt terribly nice to be described as somewhat kind instead of the Ice Serpent girl, and to know he meant it. He liked her smile as well, or so she thought, by the slight way his own lips curled. It was a shy one that covered all his teeth, unlike hers.
"I haven't checked the schedule myself yet. Last year, it was hanging beside the password notice."
"So you were listening to me and chose to ignore me? Rude," she said, feigning offense.
"You interrupted my reading, so we're even."
Touché.
No sooner had he pointed in the direction of the schedule, pinned in a small bulletin board not far from a portrait of a snake, than Skyrah jumped from the sofa and scanned the note.
She looked at him over her shoulder, causing her wavy ponytail (tied with a cream hair ribbon that contrasted greatly against her black hair) to wag. "Aren't you curious?"
Not really. He'd find out tomorrow morning, or from one of his dorm mates. However, her grin, wide and genuine and directed to him, when only Lily ever smiled at him, was alluring, and he found himself tracing her steps until he landed right beside her, shoulder to… upper arm. She was taller than him. Most girls in their class were. Black reminded him of that constantly.
Reading what they'd have the very next day made him groan.
"What's the matter?" she wondered.
"History is our first lesson tomorrow."
She didn't suppress a squeal. "Isn't it great?"
"Great?" He grimaced. "Who, in their right minds, can be looking forward to History of Magic?"
She pouted. "Well, I, for one. It's my favorite subject. I don't think Professor Dumbledore would have accepted me if I weren't sane."
"I have a feeling that you won't like History that much once you meet Professor Binns. He's dull."
"We'll see about that…" She trailed off, clearly waiting for his name.
"Severus Snape."
"Severus," she started, waiting for him to ask her to use his last name. No such thing happened. "Will you help me find the History classroom tomorrow morning, please? I don't think I'd have found the Common Room without Malfoy's help."
"I promised Lily I'd spend the morning before classes with her..."
"Oh. Right. You must be looking forward to chatting with your friend," she said, adjusting her tie. "I don't mean to intrude. You should go with her tomorrow. I'll find the classroom sooner or later. I just can't understand the purpose of the moving staircase other than messing with first-years… and me."
"Lily and I got lost a few times last year as well. It isn't uncommon."
"You talk about her a lot… Haven't you noticed?"
He hugged his Potions book close to his chest like a toddler would hug his teddy bear for comfort. "Lucius says the same. He doesn't like it when I talk about her."
"Why?"
"I think it's because of her parents."
"Muggles?" she guessed. He isn't like Lucius, after all. Happy as she was to find out Severus didn't believe anyone and anything connected to muggles was filthy, letting that warm fuzzy feeling that had installed in her chest grow just because he was talking to her without any preconceptions or prejudices would put him in danger. She wouldn't allow it.
"Yes, but Lily is the kindest person I know! I'll introduce you to her. We'll go to History together. I think she'd like to meet you."
Skyrah put on her Ice Serpent costume and smiled a smile that held no emotions, one that caused Severus to take a step back, puzzled by the change in demeanor.
"Thank you, but I'd rather you stayed with your friend. I don't want to bother you."
"But–"
"Does that lead to the girls' rooms?" she cut him off, pointing to a door on the left at the end of the room. He nodded. "All right. Thanks."
"Won't you stay here for a while? It's too early to go to sleep."
"I'm sorry. I'd rather go to bed. It's been a long day." She hesitated before wishing him a good night.
"Good night," he echoed as she opened the door, a whisper.
He hadn't felt lonely while reading his book before Skyrah interrupted him. For some reason, as he went back to reading, lonely was exactly how he felt.
Skyrah burst into the classroom. The sleeves of her sweater were knotted by her waist, letting the rest of the piece fall over the back of her skirt. The sleeves of her shirt were pulled up to her elbows.
"I'm sorry I'm late, Professor," she apologized, breath coming in pants. She was about to justify the reason (that bloody staircase) when she caught sight of her new History professor: a ghost who hardly acknowledged her.
As she adjusted her loose tie, she examined the classroom. Most students were sleepy and didn't even become aware of her presence. Others were too busy doodling, doing some origami, or reading books that had nothing to do with the subject at hand. One snored… quite loudly. How appalling the views were! In Ilvermorny, such things didn't happen. She was beginning to think she'd made a mistake by taking her mother up on her suggestion of transferring to Hogwarts, when she spied a raised slender hand in the penultimate row: Severus's. It lowered to the back of the free chair next to him, patting it twice as an invitation. She took a step towards him, only to see a red-haired girl scrutinizing her, a Gryffindor, by her uniform.
His best friend.
Skyrah changed directions and sat on one of the many free seats on the first row. She took away a piece of parchment and ink and began taking notes despite knowing the topic – the Medieval Assembly of European Wizards – by heart. She didn't look back at Severus at any moment. If she had done so, she'd have caught his bemused face.
After what felt like ages for most students, Professor Binns dismissed the class.
Skyrah began to tidy up so quickly she spilled the ink, which, ironically, slowed her down to the point that, when the mess had been taken care of, all students had already marched out, all except for a certain Slytherin boy and his Gryffindor friend. Quite the bizarre sight, they were. Even in the short time Skyrah had spent at school, she had noticed Gryffindors didn't typically mix with the likes of Slytherins. In the classroom alone, the only Gryffindor who'd sat down beside a Slytherin had been Lily. Severus hadn't been exaggerating when he mentioned the House rivalry to her.
They were the friends she'd longed for: people who weren't prejudiced, who had a rebel inside them, and who stuck together when the world wanted to tear them apart. An intelligent boy with whom she could have a pleasant conversation, and a girl with a friendly smile. The kindest person Severus knew.
They could never become friends.
She couldn't make real friends.
"How did y'all tidy up so fast?" asked Skyrah, puffing.
"We all tidied up ten minutes ago to leave this classroom as soon as possible."
Skyrah turned to the ghost, afraid he'd overheard Lily's justification. Skyrah needn't have worried. Professor Binns was the one napping now.
"Skyrah Riddle, right? I'm Lily. Sev told me you chatted last night."
"We did," she mumbled, eager to follow somebody with a green uniform to the Transfiguration classroom, currently of unknown location, before it was too late and she got lost in the labyrinthine corridors again.
"Why didn't you sit with us?"
If wounded animals could talk, Skyrah imagined they'd sound just like Severus had.
"Sitting near the teacher helps me pay attention. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."
Skyrah's tone was so sorry, nearly begging, Severus couldn't find it in himself to be disappointed with her anymore.
"It's okay," he assured her. "I don't like to be distracted in Potions. This is your favorite subject. I understand."
Lily followed, "Maybe we should learn from you and show more interest in History of Magic."
Severus snorted at the idea, though he was looking at Lily fondly. Inexplicably, the sight brought a strange feeling deep inside Skyrah's chest. It was unpleasant.
"I have Charms now, but later we have Herbology together," continued Lily. "We'll show you the way. We wouldn't have minded walking to the History classroom with you."
"I would have. I don't need you to show me the way to any classroom," she retorted so drily Lily winced.
Skyrah hadn't stayed to watch Lily's reaction, though. She had already got out of the classroom and asked around, hoping somebody would give her accurate directions.
"Was she this… cold yesterday night?"
"I don't know why she talked to you like that," Severus told Lily. Still, he remembered what Skyrah had said: I'm not good at being kind. "I don't think she meant it. It's her first day of class. She must be nervous."
Lily shook her head, unconvinced, but didn't elaborate. They'd be late to class if they didn't make haste.
By the time Severus entered the Transfiguration classroom, Skyrah was seated next to a Slytherin girl with whom he'd never talked that much. Skyrah was talking to her, although her manner wasn't that she'd shown him last night. She was poised. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line, and she restricted herself to nod and shake her head, or give monosyllabic answers. He wondered why she wouldn't smile more, like she'd done with him, or act like she didn't know he was staring at her. He wasn't being subtle about it on purpose. Since only a pair of students could sit at each desk, he chose a free one and told himself he'd find another moment to talk to Skyrah.
Little did he know how difficult that would turn out to be.