Sharlen woke in the early hours of the morning and stirred Harry; he walked her to the portrait hole and gave her a quick, groggy kiss to see her off back to Slytherin's dorms before heading back up to his own bed. Sharlen kept her arms folded around her as she walked through the chilly castle, barely lit as dawn was still approaching, thinking she hadn't seen Stacey yet and might ask her to paint her nails before breakfast.
Her breath caught in her throat and she faltered slightly. She's not there. She's not anywhere anymore.
Steadily regaining her footing, Sharlen pulled herself back along her route, feeling as though she were being compressed by the surrounding cold. She had probably missed the funeral, now that she thought about it; Snape had said she and her parents were murdered on Christmas Eve, and it was likely, considering how they died, that she wouldn't have been allowed to go anyway.
When Mrs. Norris came around one of the last corners in the dungeons and tried to raise the alarm, Sharlen shot one hand out toward her and used the Muffliato spell Harry and the others had been using in classes and kept walking.
Her roommates were still sound asleep when she entered her dorm, and her heart gave a painfully strong beat to see that none of them had bothered to don the earmuffs they'd employed because of Stacey's characteristic loud enthusiasm. Not bothering to undress, Sharlen climbed into her own bed, hardly able to bare looking at Stacey's vacant one. She sat up just long enough to cast an Intruder Charm around the perimeter of her sleeping space, expecting retribution for using the Sticking Jinx on Pansy the previous night, drew the curtains of her four-poster, and collapsed backward, curling up as small as she could under her covers, the swishing water of the lake the dungeon was partially submerged in lulling her back into unconsciousness.
A few hours later, Sharlen woke to the alarm from the Intruder Charm and immediately sat up, both hands straight out before her as she thought Protego protego protego, completely disoriented. She took a deep breath and drew back her curtains as calmly as she could to see Pansy a few feet from her bed, wand drawn, still confused by the alarm and sudden invisible shield. Not taking her eyes from her, Sharlen swung her legs over the bed, slipped her feet into her boots, and began lacing them up.
"I'm a prefect, you know!" Pansy snarled. "I know you weren't in your bed last night!"
"Odd," Sharlen mused, "I'm certainly here now, wouldn't you say, girls?" Rachel and Millicent glowered at her from beside their own beds, looking mutinous.
"Jinx me again and you'll learn a lesson you won't soon forget," Pansy growled.
"What's wrong, Pansy?" Sharlen sneered, putting on her school robes over her new sweater without breaking eye contact with her. She stood up and walked close to her before sweeping past for her school bag, flask, and little black book. "Worried you won't be able to get your revenge unless I'm fast asleep?"
Sharlen swept down the steps of the dorms to the Common Room, passing Malfoy, Crabbe, Blaise, and Goyle as she went. "Your girlfriend just tried to curse me while I was sleeping," Sharlen called back to him over her shoulder. "You may want to relay to her what a poor idea that is."
As she left the Slytherin Dungeon, she missed Draco turning around ruthlessly to scold Pansy, who was completely infuriated at the base of the stairs.
Most mornings Sharlen would walk down to breakfast with Stacey and sit with her at the Slytherin table for tea before they eventually migrated to the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables where Sharlen met Harry. This morning she went to the Ravenclaw table herself.
Sharlen stopped at the shoulder of one of the girls she knew was best friends with Stacey. Her usually made-up face was pale and blotchy, her eyes bloodshot. She placed a gloved hand on the girl's shoulder and she looked around slowly, perking up when she saw it was Sharlen. Her eyes immediately began to water.
"I'm so sorry," she said quietly, not trusting her voice. She willed her eyes to stay dry but quickly lost that battle. She took a deep breath. "I know you were friends with her for years."
The girl stood up and pulled Sharlen into a hug around the neck, holding her very tightly. She panicked momentarily about the contact and tried to force herself to relax into it. "I'm sorry too," the girl cried softly. "You got so little time with her."
Sharlen gave in and returned the hug, allowing her head to rest on the girl's shoulder. "I'm just glad to have known her. She was too good to me." The two stayed like that for several seconds, the ache in Sharlen's chest filling and ebbing over and over. Stacey's other Ravenclaw friends joined them, Sharlen finally leaving them when she felt too overwhelmed by their concentrated grief. They nodded their heads and smiled sadly to show they understood.
She headed straight over to Harry and he welcomed her next to him with a sleepy smile. He gave her a reassuring squeeze and Hermione handed her a cup of tea. Sharlen managed a small smile of thanks, feeling empty and minorly repulsed by the idea of putting anything in her mouth.
"How are you feeling this morning?" Harry asked her quietly, leaning in close. Hermione was watching her carefully across the table. The attention was making her a little dizzy and she didn't feel like doing anything in the world but going back to sleep.
"I'm okay, really," she lied. She knew her eyes were red and wet.
"You really should talk about it if you need to, Sharlen," Hermione said softly, leaning in further. She looked highly sympathetic. "We know she was important to you."
Harry watched her internal struggle and turned the corners of his mouth up just so. "If you don't open up, I may have to use Legilimency to look inside your mind and see for once," he joked.
Sharlen gave him a small genuine smile, half-laughing. "I hate to tell you this but, unfortunately for you, Snape has been teaching me Occlumency since I was five years old. I don't think you'll have much luck."
Ginny let out a laugh at something Dean said halfway down the table, and they all looked up to see him pull her closer with an arm around her shoulders and kiss her on the forehead. They had apparently gotten back together after the holiday. Hermione gave a little grin, Ron was pointedly ignoring it down the table with Lavender, and Sharlen was watching Harry. His face remained painfully indifferent and he averted his eyes quickly, but his aura told a different story. Watching Ginny with Dean, watching her in general, was stirring something inside of him: attraction and his own bit of jealousy. Feeling raw, Sharlen excused herself from the table and left without another word, heading out to the grounds to disappear for her free period, getting lost in the cold.
She walked carefully through the snow, holding her cloak up in her left hand to spare it from getting too wet. She wished Harry and Dumbledore would hurry up with whatever they were planning that was being so drawn out, so secretive. The sooner all this was over, the sooner she could stop feeling so impermanent. Disruptive. It was agony to think Harry was more likely to end up with Ginny than with her.
"I thought I'd find you here," came Ginny's voice, clear as a gunshot across the snowy surroundings. Sharlen turned, arms down by her sides. The girl with the flaming red hair came closer, a blazing look on her face, and Sharlen couldn't help but sink a little inside herself; she really was beautiful.
"And what is it you want with me?" Sharlen asked in barely more than a mutter, glancing sidelong at her as she turned slightly away from the girl. Ginny was still walking closer.
"I want to talk to you about what Malfoy said at Slughorn's Christmas party," she said sternly, as though there was no other reason in the world the two would need to talk.
"I have nothing further to say about it," Sharlen said dismissively, turning back around to keep walking away.
"Not good enough," Ginny called, still pursuing her. Sharlen kept walking miserably. "If Snape's not your father, who is?"
"That's very tactless, you know," Sharlen told her over her shoulder. "If I had some tragic tale, I'd find that very insensitive of you."
"Why is Snape your guardian if he's not your father?" Ginny pressed.
"I do not have parents," she replied in cutting tones, trying to end the conversation. She felt a steady rage bubbling in her chest.
"Malfoy mentioned your father very clearly," Ginny contradicted her. "Stop walking and face me, I'm talking to—ouch!" she shouted, recoiling the hand that had been about to reach Sharlen's shoulder. She had wordlessly slapped her hand away without a single movement.
Sharlen glanced back at the girl, who looked furious. "Do not touch me."
"Look, if Snape's not one of your parents, somebody is. People don't just fall out of the sky. And you're clearly cozy with the Malfoys, and they're all Death Eaters, I'm not an idiot," Ginny snapped at her. "And Harry isn't either. For the life of me I can't figure out why someone with so much against him would have put himself into these iffy circumstances with you. Who the hell are you? How did you just come out of the blue and start disrupting our lives, and why the hell is no one else concerned with you? You even have Ron and Hermione fooled!"
At the mention of the Malfoys Sharlen had stiffened, and when the words "Death Eaters" left Ginny's lips she'd almost choked for gasping. "It's none of your concern where I come from. You're making very serious accusations. I mean no one any harm, least of all Harry. Shouldn't you be more concerned with Dean, anyway?" she asked, eyes narrowed. Ginny just glowered back. Sharlen turned away from her again. "I was in his life long before you were."
"I don't buy it," Ginny shouted. "I want you to stay away from Harry. I know there's something dark about you. You haven't even tried to deny it."
"Don't you know you're going to win in the end?" Sharlen shouted at her, whipping around to face her abruptly, which startled Ginny enough to cause her to take out her wand. She'd finally had enough, and Ginny was further confused to see the hurt on Sharlen's face rather than anger. The cold wind that pinkened their cheeks picked up the girls' hair briskly in the small silence.
"What are you talking about 'win?'" Ginny asked suspiciously, now keeping her distance.
"I've seen you two together," Sharlen said, her voice laced with great pain. "I know how you feel about each other. But I need you to be patient. I mean to help Harry by any means necessary."
"Patient? What do you—but I'm with Dean—" Ginny stuttered, clearly confused and a little embarrassed. Anger and mild shock colored her cheeks redder in the cold, while her aura danced yellow and gray.
"I know what happened over break," Sharlen said in a much smaller voice. To absolve Harry, she lied, "He didn't say a word, I saw it," and held up her hands to indicate the contact visions. "I'm not spared anything anyone feels. Your aura will always betray you."
Ginny seemed to understand and narrowed her eyes, remaining silent. Then Sharlen repeated, "I've seen you two together. I just lost my best friend," she said, struggling to keep her voice from breaking, "and I'm not willing to lose him yet. You're going to win in the end. But this is not the end."
Sharlen turned back around and kept walking, but Ginny remained where she stood. "You have no right," she called after her, clearly stung, "to delve into our lives like that. You have no right being here!"
"You have no right to tell me to stay away from him, but I regret that I cause you pain," was all she replied as she disappeared around the greenhouses and away from Ginny.
Feeling overwhelmed by the exchange, Sharlen leaned against the back wall of the castle, wanting nothing more than to go talk it out with Stacey. She'd been her only friend outside Harry's circle, and the idea that she'd never be able to speak to her again was more than she had the capacity to believe then.
She saw a black speck in the sky coming nearer to her and took a step forward curiously. She realized it was Piotr, Stacey's owl, and held out her arm for him to land. He was heavy but she welcomed the weight of him, bringing him to her chest and crying. He cooed inordinately and she looked down at him. "I'm sorry, she's not here anymore. You were looking for her, weren't you?" His big black eyes stared at her, head tilting but now quite silent. Sharlen wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "I don't have any letters for you, and I probably won't, but I'll keep you active, okay?"
Sharlen threw her arm up to get him flying and transformed, soaring up beside him and leading him around the castle and over the Forbidden Forest a few times. He followed her with strong wingbeats, matching her turn for turn. She lead him to the Owlery where he roosted after a few bites to eat. Sharlen watched him for several minutes before taking to the air again with a renewed sense of purpose.
The next several weeks were interrupted from normal coursework as eligible sixth year students now had Apparition classes from a Ministry official. Sharlen was used to Side-Along Apparition and detested the feeling, something Harry agreed with whole-heartedly; he had been vague about the circumstances in which Dumbledore had taken him during the summer break, but they shared their dislike of the compressed darkness and tried not to speak too ill of it around Ron and Hermione, who were certainly nervous. The first couple sessions gave way to a few small splinching accidents, quickly fixed by waiting teachers, and Sharlen tried not to draw attention to herself as she successfully Apparated during the second lesson. She dawdled during the first one so as not to stand out, but focusing her mind was an easy feat; she'd had to learn wordless spells from the very beginning.
She could tell Hermione was annoyed that Sharlen had picked it up so quickly, but Sharlen assured her that if anyone was going to be successful in this it was her, and that seemed to cheer her up a little. Sharlen would be turning 17 a week before Ron, but she hadn't mentioned it to anyone. She didn't think to—birthdays had never been a means of celebrating before, and she thought it silly to start then. The only draw to this birthday was that she assumed it would mean Snape would no longer be her guardian. He was, once again, avoiding her.
Harry and Ron had tried their best to keep her mind off Stacey, an effort that had introduced her to snowball fights. Walking with them toward Hagrid's hut, a snowball hit her in her back of the head, startling her into stumbling. Harry and Ron had laughed, Harry throwing one at Ron to keep it going. Her retaliation had been terrible; stooping to collect the snow with both hands, she lobbed it over to them and missed by several feet in a large arc far over their heads. To even the playing field, she opted to levitate them in the boys' direction instead.
Nearly every night, she went flying with Piotr; he had no one to deliver letters to and she knew the other owls could keep him company, but she wanted him to stay close to her, one last little piece of Stacey left alive. Often during their flights they visited Hagrid, who was always happy for animal company. Each morning at breakfast during Owl Post, Piotr came down to visit her.
Sharlen's meditation lessons with Professor Trelawney weren't going anywhere near as well. While she served as a better meditation guide than a Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney was frequently distracted by her own musings into the Beyond; Sharlen felt, after the second lesson, that she should have known Trelawney couldn't help but keep trying to prove herself as a Seer in front of Sharlen. It didn't help that she kept bringing up that the contact visions were technically an asset and trying to dull them seemed foolish.
"Look, they're hindering to me," Sharlen snapped during the third lesson. She was getting closer but Trelawney had interrupted her after a very promising stretch. "I can't see and can barely hear the real world when I get them, let alone focus enough to protect myself or anyone else. It takes more concentration to cast wordless spells and that's all I can do! That's why I need to be able to overcome them." She swallowed when she'd finished talking, as this was only partially true—being able to let Harry touch her without the ghosts of past or present interrupting them was the real draw, for now.
"My dear, your other teachers tell me you've been very successful in keeping up with others in your year and should be quite capable of achieving several N.E.W.T.s when the time comes next year," Trelawney chirped, hands constantly mussing up the sheer shawl over her throat.
"This is beyond classwork," Sharlen told her. "This is about war." Trelawney looked taken aback, as if she only just remembered who she was speaking to. Sharlen watched her aura spike nervously. "Surely you know what side I'm on," she muttered darkly.
"Of course my dear, of course," Trelawney said quickly, gathering herself. "Well of course the more control you have over your abilities the better prepared you'll be for whatever is in the stars for you, so, if you please, we'll start again…" With a flick of her wand, the soothing sound of waves on a beach greeted them once more. Sharlen closed her eyes, mildly annoyed; she'd relayed to Professor Trelawney before that she'd never seen the ocean and therefore was not necessarily able to be soothed by it.
She was beginning to realize that achieving success with this practice was almost the direct opposite of Occlumency—opening her mind seemed infinitely harder when she had been trained her whole life to clamp it firmly shut. She and Harry were testing the waters, too, of the effectiveness of her lessons. Between Sharlen's need for a distraction from Stacey's death and Harry's thirst to put off being who he was and doing what Dumbledore so wanted him to do, they continued to delve further into each other.
In the wake of Stacey's death, with Hermione and Ron still not speaking, Harry proposed they head into Hogsmeade alone for the day. Being around Ron and Lavender certainly hadn't been pleasant before the break, but she seemed to have kicked it up a notch as a result of missing him. In addition to feeling badly for Hermione and wanting to keep her company, Sharlen found the obsessive love in Lavender's aura to be exhausting. Mercifully, Lavender was still very frightened of Sharlen—when Ron would come sit down with her and Harry, Lavender would watch her warily, kiss Ron on the cheek, and titter something about him needing his "boy time."
Sharlen dressed alone in her dorm, the rest of her roommates already out and heading to town. She wore tights with long socks, with a long-sleeve shirt of Harry's she stole. It was so long on her, it came down to mid-thigh. She added her Weasley sweater over it, put on a long beanie she knit over the break, and grabbed her cloak to go.
She hurried down the stairs and swept out of the Common Room, planning to meet Harry at the castle entrance. Instead, she found him waiting for her outside the dungeon entrance.
Sharlen slowed her pace, grinning. "What are you doing down here? Am I that late?"
Harry laughed, closing the gap between them. He wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her forehead. "I wanted to pick you up and surprise you. We don't get to do this too often." He took her cloak and her hand, leading her out of the castle.
Around them as they made their way out of the dungeons and up to the main of the castle, Slytherins were experiencing the same strange phenomenon that had plagued them all before the holidays. They would glare at Harry openly as he held Sharlen's hand, but would blanch wide-eyed and speed up if they caught Sharlen's eye in the process.
Long accustomed to the scorn and rivalry of Slytherin and Gryffindor, Harry didn't acknowledge it. Instead he asked Sharlen, "Any interesting visions lately?"
Sharlen smirked at him, amused by his nonchalant attempt to ignore what was happening around them. "Define 'interesting.'"
"Hmm…" thought Harry, looking at the path ahead of them. He jutted his head up once quickly to signal to her to skip the trick stair as they began to ascend. "I guess any visions of people we know or of Voldemort would be deemed 'interesting,'" he answered casually. "Bonus points if it's anything about what Malfoy is up to."
"Come now Harry," she answered, adjusting her large black scarf to cover more of her neck and shoulders as they strode across the entrance hall. "You know if I'd seen anything about Draco I would have rushed to tell you. That, and I'm pretty sure you're the only one between us with a track record of having visions of what The Dark Lord's up to."
She watched his eyebrows jump upward—one quick, facial acknowledgement—to hear her opt for "The Dark Lord." Harry had long since determined that she was used to referring to Voldemort this way because of Snape.
She continued on as they reached the grounds beyond the open front doors, vaguely following other groups of students toward Hogsmeade. "I did see Luna Lovegood trimming an odd bush in front of what I assumed was her house," she told him, taking out her little black book and running through several pages with an index finger to find the memory. When she found it, she read, "'Luna skipping down a jagged path along a stream toward a large, black castle tower (house?) - stops to trim two large, orange fruits - they start to float away - she grabs them from the air and goes to head inside, but turns around to look back down the path.'"
Sharlen looked up at Harry to find him grinning. "Luna's house looks like a castle tower? That doesn't surprise me at all," he said with a laugh. Sharlen nodded, a little wary; going back over the vision, she saw Luna turning back vividly in her mind again. There had been a sinister feeling to the end of the vision, contrasting harshly with the carefree quiet throughout.
"Come on, Won-Won!" came Lavender's bright giggle behind them. Harry brought his arm around Sharlen's waist and pulled her in closer to his left side to get her out of the path of Lavender dragging Ron up the lane to the town. Harry and Sharlen watched Ron's face as he looked pleadingly back at them, Harry giving an amused wave and Sharlen offering a close-lipped, apologetic smile. Harry had told his friend he and Sharlen wanted some time alone today, leaving Ron unbuffered with his own girlfriend.
"We could certainly meet up with them later if he's… in need of rescue…" Sharlen said as they followed them past the Hogwarts gates at a growing distance, finding it a little ridiculous to feel the need to offer a friend reprieve from their significant other.
Harry shook his head, tightening his arm around her waist again in a brief squeeze. They entered Hogsmeade and continued toward Honeydukes, their first destination.
As they expected, Honeydukes was packed with students; the weather was far fairer than they had experienced since early November, snow still in patches on the ground but the sun peeking occasionally through the clouds. Harry and Sharlen held hands as they stuck to the perimeter of the store, attempting to keep to themselves. A few people here and there greeted Harry, but Sharlen was a reliable deterrent.
"Odd, aren't they?" came Luna's misty voice as they stood before a narrow display of Madam Borboleta's Sugared Butterfly Wings. Harry and Sharlen turned to see her nibbling a rather large Liquorice Wand.
Harry grabbed a tin of them with his free hand. "I'm not Gryffindor enough to try them, but Sharlen took a liking to them when we were here last," he said, his smile rather polite.
"Do you really like them?" Luna asked Sharlen, her eyes wide. She followed them to the counter, where Harry passed the old witch at the till a few Sickles for the butterfly wings and a few boxes of Chocolate Frogs for himself. "I don't know many people who have tried them."
Sharlen took the tin from off the counter, opened the lid, and offered one to Luna. Perfectly shaped, the single wing was covered in dark chocolate and flaked coconut. "Give it a try. I think I'm partial to them because of my Animagus form. Eating insects is natural for an owl, so these are a real treat."
Luna thanked her and took a curious bite. As she chewed, her eyes moved from Sharlen to Harry. "They're not so bad, Harry," she told him. "You can't really taste the butterfly."
Harry's eyes were transfixed on the bitten edge of the remaining wing in Luna's hand, where the bright orange of the Monarch butterfly could vividly be seen beneath the cracked chocolate. "I'm good, thanks," he said. Sharlen laughed, taking a wing for herself and closing the tin.
They parted from Luna outside the candy shop and headed the opposite way up the road, lightly snacking as they went. Sharlen returned the tin to her bag and took up Harry's free hand again. Their second stop was to the post office, just to greet all the owls and pet the friendlier ones.
She pulled him over to the window of Scrivenshaft's quill shop, holding her hands up to shield her eyes from the sun's glare to see through more clearly. "Isn't it just wild that there are so many types of quills? I could have never dreamed of ever needing some of the special things people want their quills to do," she mused. She pulled back to find Harry watching her, amused. "What was the one you said Rita Skeeter used?"
"A Quick-Quotes Quill," he told her.
"And Umbridge?" she asked, reaching to hold up his hand to see the scarring that read I must not tell lies.
"I don't think she ever said what it was called. Probably illegal," he added with a shrug, leading her toward the door. "Did you need a new quill?"
Sharlen followed with a little skip, still holding his hand in both of hers. "I don't need anything." They continued past the entrance.
Harry grinned back at her as she caught up to his side. "Nothing at all?"
She thought for a second. "Maybe tea? What do you think?"
"Anywhere but there," he muttered, gesturing down a side street they were in the process of passing. Sharlen looked up to the end of the street where a small, frilly, pink cafe sat. The sign read, "Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop."
"You sure? Seems right up your alley," she teased, arching an eyebrow up at him. "Oh my god, look," she said in hushed tones, holding Harry back. Ron was in one of the many steamy windows, looking perfectly miserable holding hands across the table from Lavender. Harry groaned.
"Poor bloke."
"When did you ever go in there?"
"About a year ago on Valentine's Day, with Cho Chang," he told her, leading her away. "It didn't last very long," he recalled, his free hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "It was all steamed up and full of couples holding hands and snogging. She got mad at me pretty quickly. Roger Davies was at the next table that was so close he was practically sitting on my lap, snogging some girl."
Sharlen couldn't help but laugh at the awful picture he was painting her. "That sounds like a nightmare you'd have. What did you do to make her so angry?"
"How much time have you got?" he joked, taking his hand from her so he could wrap his arm around her shoulders. "Hermione had insisted I meet up with her that day also, to talk with Rita Skeeter. Cho didn't care for me making appointments with other girls on Valentine's Day, and she also tried to talk about Cedric again. In that place. Surrounded by snogging couples."
Sharlen gave him a sympathetic squeeze as he steered her toward The Three Broomsticks. Unable to see a free booth or table from the door, the two opted for open seats at the bar. Ignoring that anyone else was even in the vicinity, Harry began describing to Sharlen in great detail what Diagon Alley was like while Madam Rosmerta served them butterbeer and strong tea with a little smile on her face. They sat turned towards each other on their bar stool, knees touching.
"But what's the train like?" she asked after a long spanse of time where Harry attempted to paint her a picture of Gringott's massive underbelly.
Harry laughed in disbelief. "The train? You mean the Hogwarts Express?"
Sharlen nodded vigorously, full of energy. "Yes! Obviously there were cars around Privet Drive, but I've never really asked how they worked."
Sufficiently warmed by their drinks, the two left the pub and headed toward the Shrieking Shack, their talk completely turned over to Muggle affairs. The idea of a zoo particularly disturbed Sharlen. They proceeded down the unpaved lane toward the infamous, dark, disheveled shack and stood talking at its gate.
Sharlen wrapped both hands around the top of the wrought iron fence, staring across the long yard to the Shrieking Shack. Her eyes moved over the old, cracked outer wood, and she tried to imagine what it might have looked like when it was new. The river's current lapped against the old rowboat forever tethered to the dock. In a different time, it may have been a peaceful place to live.
"Remind me again what happened here?" she asked Harry over her shoulder.
"Well you see, it's known to be the most haunted house in Great Britain…" he teased lowly, leaning his body against her back and propping his chin on her shoulder. Sharlen grinned and pressed back into him, growing warm. "Dumbledore started that rumor to keep people away from here while Lupin was transforming on the full moon. My dad and Sirius would come here with him, transformed, and run around all night with him. You know, once he got hold of the whole werewolf thing."
"Ah, so that's where you get your penchant for being out of bed all hours of the night," she teased. Harry grinned and craned his neck to kiss her cheek.
"Dumbledore must have reinforced it magically for it to hold a werewolf," Sharlen said. "It might even look nice if all the windows and doors weren't boarded up."
"I'm not sure if you're angling for something, but even if I could afford the property, the repairs would put us under for sure," Harry said with a deep sigh. Sharlen laughed and turned toward him, arms snaking up around his neck. He held her close against the gate.
"Very funny," she sneered.
Harry kept his eyes locked on hers, admiring their pale shine against the snow. "What are you really thinking about?"
"Close your eyes," she said. He obliged her, the left corner of his mouth curled up in a grin. "You can hear the waves come up over the river rocks to the bank, right?" He nodded. "When the water rolls back down to the river, it makes the most amazing sound over the smallest rocks. I can't get enough of it. I think it may be my favorite sound in the world."
Harry opened his eyes and watched the waves on the bank. She was right—there was something endlessly soothing about that sound. He looked back down at her and brought his hands up to hold her face.
Sharlen moved to flinch away. "Harry, I want to be able to see you—"
"Try," he said softly. His hands held her face and her eyes grew white, pupils shrinking. She saw a swarm of people dressed in red or green partying and singing in a sparse wood thickly housed with tents and campfires. She took a deep breath and opened her mind. She was almost able to see Harry past the vision. "Do you know what my favorite sound is?"
She smirked. "Something to do with Quidditch, no doubt."
"I think it might be listening to you discover something new," he told her, bringing his lips down to hers. Sharlen slid her arms around his ribs tightly beneath his coat, pulling him as close as she could while they deepened the kiss.
Down the lane, Draco's pack of Slytherins were crossing streets in a rowdy pack. Pansy held his hand, leading the way. Crabbe and Goyle halted the group, hitting their fellows round the neck and shoulders, pointing out Harry and Sharlen, jeering and readying themselves to break up the moment. Draco glanced down the lane toward the Shrieking Shack and hesitated, watching Harry and Sharlen kiss. Tearing his eyes away angrily, he motioned for the pack to move on and surged forward.
Breaking away, the two turned back to the main road and saw the Slytherins walking out of sight. "Close one," Sharlen muttered, keeping one arm around Harry. The two set off back up the lane.
"Might be an interesting experiment, though," Harry mused playfully, as though considering it. "Facing both of us. I don't think they'd know what to do. Attack me as is their undeniable nature, or remain shock silent between you and Malfoy?"
Sharlen watched the pack of Slytherins disappear out of sight with wary eyes. It was no secret to her, spared nothing of the feelings of others, what the rest of her house thought of her. At first there had been intrigue and curiosity, especially with how Draco hung off her the first month. The longer she stayed at Hogwarts, becoming as commonplace as was possible and spending more time with their most-hated Gryffindors, it was clear they'd developed solid dislike and distrust. As an afterthought, she flashed Harry a smile to acknowledge his joke.
"I know the Sorting Hat didn't really give you the option, but now that you've been at Hogwarts for a while, would you have chosen a different house?" Harry asked.
"I don't think so. I think I'm in the right place."
Harry gave her an amused look.
"I'm serious!" she exclaimed. "Hey, don't put your prejudices on me, pal. What do you have against cunning and tenacity? You know Merlin himself was in Slytherin? And your friend Slughorn, old head of Slytherin house and a clear aversion to Dark Arts?" Harry shrugged and nodded as though she had a point.
"Why do you think that happened? With your Sorting?" he asked, watching her. Sharlen kept her face forward, her mind racing.
"I'm not sure, but," she muttered, trying to seem nonchalant, "I think maybe my ghost was in Slytherin, too. Maybe with both of us combined, it was decided."
She startled herself with the ease of the story. Her ghost had, obviously, been a direct descendant of Slytherin himself.
Harry's brow furrowed the way it did when he was in the process of disappearing into thought. "That definitely could be it, I hadn't thought of that," he said finally.
"I think I also may have been nervous, thinking back on it," she continued. "Seeing Hogwarts after never leaving the house for years was really overwhelming. I knew Snape was the head of Slytherin house, so that probably felt like the easiest path for me at the time."
"It's still hard for me to comprehend that you and Snape are connected," Harry said, staring ahead of them up the lane. "I thought he was going to murder me last year when he pulled me out of the Pensieve. He's always been nothing but horrible. If someone had told me before you came back around that the girl from the meadow grew up with him as a guardian, I think all I'd be able to do is laugh."
"Is that how you refer to me? The girl from the meadow?" Sharlen laughed quietly. Harry shook his head with a smile. Sharlen followed his gaze ahead of him and sighed. "It's strange for me too, hearing your stories about him. I forget that you have your own history with him. Growing up, I didn't have anything to compare it to—I was just alone with him all the time, and the Malfoys are just as cold of a family, they just talk more and use some softer words. And the Dursleys… well…" Harry gave an emphasized shudder, causing Sharlen to laugh briefly. "I didn't really know him as 'harsh' or 'cruel.' Some things were worse than others… but mostly we just were."
As they walked, they entered more populated areas again, with groups of students and visitors bustling around shopping or chatting, not paying them much attention though their conversation had begun to darken. "I want to understand," Harry said quietly, looking down at her. "I want to understand what it was like to be alone with him all those years. How you can forgive a man who's hurt you."
Sharlen glanced over at him but didn't respond right away. They had never discussed Snape's beating at the beginning of the year, or really very much about Snape at home at all. She decided to tread lightly. "Being out in the world now among all of you, I realize things that were so big to me would seem so small to others," she started, watching the ground. "You know how you describe how you feel to be flying? I felt that, too, whenever he would let me go outside in the yard. The house was under enchantments, of course, so it wasn't really any more dangerous than being inside as far as being seen went-I think he just didn't want me getting used to it. Wanting more."
Harry's left hand gripped her side a little harder, but he stayed silent.
"Some days I would get so frustrated, practicing my magic and getting stuck on something, not being able to alter my wandwork as the texts suggest for literally everything because I didn't have a wand, or knowing how to position my hands to achieve the desired effect… There were no other distractions in the house, so I'd become so fixated on each and every spell. Then he would walk in the door and I'd feel so relieved." She shook her head a little, remembering that feeling in her chest of the pressure slowly deflating at the sight of him. "Because I could ask what I was doing wrong, and he could show me. He was short with me, for sure—he's never been a patient man—but he could show me or tell me what to change."
She glanced up at Harry again and he was still watching her, his expression unreadable. She looked away again, not wanting to see his aura. "During breaks, he was always home, only ever leaving as needed. He never talked about anything at all. If something was going on, he was just violent and angry. During the school year, I knew your schedules. Classes go to four o'clock, but no Potions after three. Dinner at six. Curfew at nine. Most days he would come home right after his last class, and stay until dinner when he would go back. If he had detentions, he wouldn't say, he just wouldn't come back. If he didn't have detentions, he would sometimes come back until after I had gone to sleep."
Harry furrowed his brow for a minute, thinking back to his previous years' class schedules, realizing she was right-he'd never had a Potions class past three o'clock.
"I would watch the clock for him, every day," Sharlen continued. "What else was there to do? But every time, if he was late or delayed by something at the school, the thought would come to my mind that he wasn't ever coming back. I would dream up all these plans," she laughed, though Harry didn't find any of this funny. "If he didn't come back, what would I do? I was bound to the house. How long would it take for me to find a counterspell? Would the Malfoys come for me? Could I get an owl to contact them? And once I found a way out, how could I get to you? All the plans led here, to Hogwarts." Finally she looked up at him completely to meet his eyes. His aura burned with teal pity and navy protection. "The Dursleys could have moved, and I never really knew where they lived. But I knew you'd be at Hogwarts no matter what."
Harry was quiet for a minute or so. They were almost at the gate of the Hogwarts entrance. "Your life with him sounds so…"
"Boring?" Sharlen offered lightly.
"Quiet and lonely," he finished. He stopped her at the gate of Hogwarts, his hands on her waist. "You said if something was going on, he would be 'more violent.' What does 'more violent' entail?"
Sharlen shifted uncomfortably. "I don't think you really want to know, Harry. What's done is done. I have more control of my life now."
"I want to know everything," he insisted.
"Sure, he's hurt me," she said quietly, offering no details, "but while I think survival is ingrained human instinct, self-preservation is different. They may sound the same, but with survival you act only to live. Self-preservation develops when you have something to live for beyond just simply being. You learn how not to anger them, to get what you need. You learn when to be defiant and when to be silent as it aids your objective. You are my objective," she told him, gripping him a little tighter. "I did what I had to do to get back to you."
Harry smiled softly down at her, bring one hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear. "I think if I had known that you were real, that you were somewhere out there in the world," he said in a low voice, "I think I'd have fought like hell to get back to you, too."
Sharlen leaned against his chest, closing her eyes and breathing him in. "We're together now. Whatever happened before doesn't matter."
"I just wish we hadn't lost that time…" he muttered against the top of her head, running his hands along her back. His mind suddenly seemed very far away. Sharlen pulled back and looked up at him, his aura seeping with regret. "Who knows how much longer we have now."
"Hey," she said gently, her eyes moving between his. "No one knows how much time they've got. All that matters is that we're together and that we're in this together. I'm here for as long as you'll have me around." Harry nodded, but chose to stay silent. She pressed on, determined to lighten things up again. "Thank you for today. Really. This is the lightest I've felt since she died."
Harry took her hand and started to lead her past the gate and into the castle grounds. "I'm glad you're feeling a bit better. I want as much time with you as I can get." The two walked down along the path slowly, veering off to the Quidditch pitch to fly around together for a while, looking to prolong returning to the school for as long as they could.
Ginny had been keeping her distance from Sharlen ever since their altercation, and had taken to blushing a deep red with embarrassment and anger whenever their eyes did meet. In the meantime, Harry's obsession with what Malfoy was doing was newly refreshed, and, to Ron and Hermione's dismay, Sharlen encouraged him as the two would sit and peer at the Marauder's Map. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were also beginning to act strange, more secretive—Hermione was still not speaking to Ron, but whenever they were separately alone with Harry, they quickly stopped talking when Sharlen came around. She guessed it had to do with his lessons with Dumbledore, and trying to get something out of Slughorn.
When she finally convinced Harry to talk to her about it, Hermione's aura burned with disagreement. She clearly thought Harry should heed Dumbledore's order to not tell anyone but she and Ron about his lessons. "I let Slughorn know that I knew about the memory, and needed the rest… and he sort of freaked out."
Sharlen nodded her understanding as they sat in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, waiting for it to start. She didn't ask what the memory was about—would it be suspicious if she didn't? "You may need to use persuasion to get it from him. He must be ashamed of whatever it is."
"No," Hermione said quickly and firmly. "Dumbledore would have been able to do that himself, he specifically told Harry to convince Slughorn to give him the memory. He knows Harry can do it."
"I know he can too," Sharlen assured them both, giving Harry a small smile. He returned it briefly before drawing his wand and giving the start of the lesson his full attention. The first half of the year they had focused on practicing defensive spells wordlessly; Lupin, like Flitwick and McGonagall, had often used Sharlen for demonstrations, knowing she was proficient. They'd also taken a closer look at dark creatures Voldemort was recruiting and employing to his cause, becoming aware of their abilities and how to defend against them. Since their return from the holidays, however, they had been practicing combative spells and jinxes and learning how to recognize when one was coming your way.
For several of their Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, Lupin had set the desks back to the walls and laid out soft surfaces to absorb the impact of students falling over. They were practicing actual curses on inanimate objects to prevent injury, but certain spells, like the Impediment Jinx or Stunning Spell, were fair game. Lupin would typically prowl through the pairs he set up to practice, monitoring and correcting. The members of Dumbledore's Army had a leg-up on these spells, much to Harry's pride. This class in particular focused on defensive spells to protect a particular place.
"...now, once you've set the concealment spells that make an area impervious to Muggles, impossible to hear beyond the confines of the perimeter, and unplottable, the next step, if necessary, is the Fidelius Charm," Lupin said, waving his wand at the blackboard. Hermione was scribbling furiously, Harry giving his own rapt attention, and Ron attempting not to daze. Since Hermione had given him the cold shoulder, he'd had to rely on his own notes. Sharlen peered over to read them and couldn't help but laugh, appreciating the effort. "The Fidelius Charm is an extremely difficult piece of magic that conceals a secret inside a single living soul," he continued. "It's possible Professor Flitwick has mentioned it to you in Charms class, but I felt it necessary to bring it up in the arena of Defense Against the Dark Arts, which is typically where the charm is employed."
Sharlen briefly drew her attention from Lupin, alerted by the darkening of Harry's aura beside her. She felt a shiver run through her—he was reflecting darkly on something. In truth, she knew of the Fidelius Charm herself; her father was the Secret Keeper for the location of the locket Horcrux. She could picture the location and the traps set inside, but, as a secondary Secret Keeper, she couldn't attempt to lead someone there to save her life.
"Once a Secret Keeper has been created, a place is immediately unplottable, invisible, soundproof, and completely intangible," Lupin continued, pacing slowly. "Typically the spells I have already taught you will suffice to protect a location you don't want found by your enemies, especially a temporary space, but should the time come you or your family are being hunted, the Fidelius Charm is the best hope to conceal it indefinitely from those who wish you harm. That is to say, of course, that your Secret Keeper is trustworthy." He stopped and looked at the faces around the room thoughtfully. "The flaw of this charm, of course, is human nature itself. In the face of torture or threat, there are many who would succumb to revealing the secret. Those are the dark truths we face."
Lupin spent the rest of the class explaining the layers of Secret Keepers and the intricacies of the charm, but Sharlen was stuck on Harry's brooding aura. On a spare piece of parchment, she scribbled a note to him: What's the matter?
Harry glanced at her briefly and slid the paper to him to write a reply. It was short and simple, she read as he passed it back to her: Peter Pettigrew was my parents' Secret Keeper.
Sharlen looked down at her lap, deep in thought. Months before when Harry was telling her of all the events that had unfolded at Hogwarts during his years there, she had learned that Wormtail's real name was Peter Pettigrew. She'd only ever heard him referred to by his nickname since he returned with her father two years prior. He never told her this detail, though he had explained Sirius's innocence in killing all those Muggles. No wonder the discussion had him blue. She took off her left glove and reached over to take his hand; Harry's thumb stroked her skin and he closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of her skin. Sharlen couldn't see it past the vision of him with a large golden egg in a swimming-pool-sized bathtub filled with bubbles.
As the lesson concluded and everyone gathered their belongings, happy for the end of the day's lessons, Sharlen took Harry's hand again and wondered what else he hadn't told her. That seemed like a natural detail to divulge, now that she thought of it, and Harry and Ron were always telling stories of their adventures… She glanced up at him wearily as they walked out with Hermione, Ron ahead of them carting Lavender who had pounced onto his back, holding fast. Did he still not trust her or what he could say to her? Had Dumbledore warned him to be cautious around her after all? Or was some part of him naturally holding her at arm's length?
Hermione bid them goodbye at the staircase, saying she had some work to do in the library before dinner. Harry and Sharlen stopped near a large stained glass window and he took out the Marauder's Map distractedly. "Who are you looking for? Draco?" Sharlen asked quietly.
Harry nodded once firmly, scouring the map. "He bolted from that class. I wanted to see where… but he's not here. Again." Doing one more sweep of the names, Harry muttered, "Mischief managed," begrudgingly and folded the map to store back into his robes.
"Thank you for telling me about Wormtail," Sharlen said cautiously, testing the waters. Harry nodded again, shrugging. "I never heard the full story. I didn't know."
"It's okay," Harry said easily, putting an arm around her shoulder. "I should have told you the whole story from the beginning." The two walked down to the Great Hall, Harry starting from Mr. Weasley's warning in The Leaky Cauldron after Sirius's escape, quelling her worries about him not trusting her. They both sat down to dinner in much brighter moods.
The morning of Ron's seventeenth birthday Sharlen woke late, her roommates already gone from the dorm and off to breakfast. She sat up slowly, bringing her knees to her chest, and looked over to Stacey's vacant bed, still immaculately made with all the blankets tucked in and undisturbed. Resting her head on her knees, her arms hugging her legs loosely, she watched the bed and wondered if it would be worse if the bed was taken from the dorm altogether or if it stayed here, like this, a constant reminder of her friend's death. Her chest felt heavy and she couldn't help but still worry something was physically wrong with her; instinctively she reached over for her flask and took a long drink of the potion. The heaviness remained and she put a hand flat to her chest lightly, willing the ache to subside.
It had been ever-present since the end of the holidays. Early in January, after a few days of it, she asked Professor McGonagall for permission to go to the hospital wing. At that time, Madam Pomfrey was still largely afraid of her; when Sharlen knocked on her office door, one hand over her heart, Madam Pomfrey was startled and took a hesitant step back.
"My chest aches," Sharlen said sadly, face screwed up with pain. "It doesn't stop. It's hard to breathe."
Madam Pomfrey's frightened expression melted into a sad smile full of pity. Placing one hand on her shoulder, she steered Sharlen over to one of the many medicine cabinets and said softly, "It's grief, dear." Bending at the waist, she retrieved a bar of chocolate from within the cabinet and handed it to her. "Sadly, unless you need a listening ear, this is all I can prescribe."
Sharlen had taken to adding stickers to the exposed wood of the four-poster and leaving the curtains open as a tribute to her, no matter how small. She'd used up her store of stickers and had no plans to collect more of them. The house-elves Hermione told her tended the tasks around the castle had not removed them, and she was thankful for it.
Stretching weakly, Sharlen reached over to her nightstand and gathered up her Tarot deck, shuffling absentmindedly. She thought of Harry's mission to get the memory from Slughorn, of Dumbledore and their own meetings, and what was coming. She hadn't heard anything from her father in months and Snape seemed distracted, agitated, and, most of all, avoidant. Had he been given orders to leave her be now that she was of age?
Heeding what Dumbledore had said about espionage, Sharlen felt a significant pang of guilt as she continued to shuffle—shouldn't she be communicating with her father to try and find out what he was planning? Shouldn't she be on her Master's good side to play her part better? She had been openly defiant up until then, and realized it may have been time to change her tune. Dumbledore seemed sure that the best way for her to help Harry survive was to go to the dark side, at least at face-value… but the thought of not standing beside him in this battle, head held high, made the pressure in her chest increase in weight. Was her will strong enough to do what was best? Was her life truly meant to be used as a pawn for other people and nothing more?
She began to shuffle more determinedly, sitting up a little straighter, and thought with purpose Who am I supposed to be right now?
She dealt the seven cards of the Merkaba spread slowly, hoping that when Harry did finally find out about her he would understand that she could be beneficial to him. That he could use her as he needed. That thought made going to her father's side seem more bearable, more realistic. As she flipped the cards one by one, she frowned at her reading. But she found her answer ultimately in the Outcome, which was The Hierophant: She must do what was expected of her. Follow due process, stick with the traditions lain before her. She had to join the Death Eaters.
Sharlen closed the deck and stored them before getting up to dress, her head buzzing. She had to tell Harry soon… she knew it was true, but the idea still terrified her. She vaguely wondered what Merope must think of all this as she reached for her little black book and flipped to an open page to ask Harry what he was up to this morning. She did a double-take seeing he had written to her already and again at what it read: Ron's been poisoned. We're in the hospital wing.
It took her several long seconds to react. Poisoned? Who in the world would poison Ron Weasley?
Without another thought, she ran to the window, tore it open, and transformed, soaring down to the hospital wing much faster than she could have walked. She gave a sharp call when she found one of the windows to the wing and Harry was there not long afterward to let her in. She transformed again and put a hand to his chest to steady herself. "How is he? Where is he?"
"Over here," Harry said quietly. He noticed she wasn't wearing any gloves as he led her to Ron's bed where he slept fitfully, Hermione and Ginny on either side of him. Two tall twins with hair as red as Ron and Ginny's stood over the bed as well beside Hagrid; Sharlen assumed they must have been Fred and George Weasley. Sharlen stared at Ron's hand clutched in Hermione's and felt ill immediately. "He'll be okay, but he's in rough shape."
"How could this happen…" Sharlen muttered, tentatively stepping nearer. She was mildly aware of Slughorn in a nearby corner, already distressed but more agitated now that Sharlen had appeared. Harry retold the story for her about the chocolates laced with love potion, seeking Slughorn for an antidote, and the poisoned mead they almost all shared.
"Love potion?" Sharlen asked, turning to Harry. "Lavender is going to freak out."
"They were meant for me," Harry said with a shrug, watching his best friend. "From Romilda Vane. I've had them since Christmas and just forgot all about them."
Ginny clicked her tongue, annoyed, and Sharlen felt a brief camaraderie with her. She chose not to comment.
Fred and George approached Harry and Sharlen, one of them thrusting a hand at her. "You must be Sharlen, then," he said, and Sharlen stared at his hand and wished she hadn't neglected her gloves before flying down. He introduced himself as George, confirming her assumption.
Harry watched her closely, about to make an excuse for her not returning the handshake, but, not wanting to be rude while their brother lay a few feet behind them in considerable illness, she took his hand and shook it. She heard him stop talking as they shook, knowing that her pupils shrinking dramatically with the vision she received surely startled him. She watched him and Fred running around a garden many years ago, throwing garden gnomes with gnashing teeth at a much younger Ron and another brother of theirs with horn-rimmed glasses, who looked abashed. The vision faded quickly as George withdrew his hand and Sharlen saw the hospital wing come back into focus, her hand limp and solitary in the air, abandoned. The twins were staring at her open-mouthed, identical expressions unhinging her a little, and she realized Hagrid, Hermione, and Ginny were all staring at her too.
"Uhh…" uttered Fred.
"She gets contact visions," Harry explained. "When she has skin-to-skin contact with someone, she sees a vision of their past or future."
"Wicked," the twins said together, thoroughly impressed. Fred immediately threw his hand out for her to take as well, and, with a little laugh, she did. After a few moments of what she assumed was a Quidditch match, she withdrew her hand.
"Well, we wanted to thank you for those Dream Sachets you sent at Christmas," Fred said jovially. "They're brilliant."
"We've increased the strength and were able to make the results instantaneous," George continued, rubbing his hands together. "Narcolepsy Nut Bars! Not to be confused with the Nosebleed Nougats," he said seriously. Sharlen couldn't help but laugh. "We've officially added them to our Skiving Snackboxes! Give you sleeping fits on and off for a solid three hours to get you out of a whole day's worth of classes. They're a huge seller."
"Of course, we also started selling a separate version that does last all night for dreamless sleep—folks could use it nowadays, anyway. We wanted to give you a creative stipend," Fred said earnestly.
Head beginning to swim, she quickly waved them off. "Oh no, I couldn't take that," she insisted. "That's wonderful you were able to use the recipe. Harry and Ron have told me a lot about your joke shop."
The twins began to protest but Ginny cleared her throat loudly and announced that their parents had arrived. Sharlen looked up and saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley by Ron's bedside. Mrs. Weasley was doling out hugs and had made it to Harry, Sharlen staring at her shyly, waiting. They remarked on how he had now saved Ginny's, Mr. Weasley's, and Ron's lives and said there was no way they could ever thank him. Something inside of her welled with affection for Harry, but it was short-lived as Mrs. Weasley turned to her.
The two were silent for a second as Mrs. Weasley looked at her with a warm smile on her face. Sharlen didn't know what to say, but she instantly felt like crying. "Sharlen, yes?" Mrs. Weasley said.
Sharlen nodded. "I really love that sweater you made for me," she managed, voice thick with a lump in her throat and the ache in her chest deepening painfully. Mrs. Weasley pulled her into a hug and muttered, "You're a good girl, you're a good girl" a few times.
Feeling overwhelmed, Sharlen turned and excused herself from the hospital wing, saying she wanted to give the family space. Once she was clear of the watching eyes, Sharlen stood flat against the castle wall and hurriedly wiped her eyes, brimming with tears. She took a few calming breaths and glared at the floor, feeling protective of the Weasleys and furious at the idea that Harry had almost been poisoned as well. She knew the Order of the Phoenix were well aware of who she was, and Molly had been the most accepting of her by far. Harry said that Slughorn had meant to give the mead to Dumbledore… Realization melted over her hot and fast. Just like that cursed necklace, the mead had come out of The Three Broomsticks and was intended for the Headmaster.
Taking off for the Great Hall at a run, Sharlen suddenly found herself in front of Malfoy at the Slytherin table. She jerked him up by his elbow and dragged him after her to Pansy's furious shrieks; Draco didn't fight her, question her, or try to make any smug remarks. Beneath her angry grip, he felt thinner.
Sharlen dragged him to an empty classroom and slammed the door behind them. Whirling to face Draco, she glowered at him. His jaw set, he returned her glare.
"What did I tell you," she hissed, "about these assassination attempts?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Draco said in a low voice, just as he did last time. She noticed some of the fight had gone out of him.
"Slughorn gave Ron and Harry poisoned mead today that was intended for Dumbledore," she said slowly. Draco's gray eyes widened with understanding, betraying himself. "Ron is in the hospital wing."
"Did I kill Potter?" Draco asked in barely more than a whisper, stunned at the very idea as if the glory of it was too much to comprehend—likely because he knew Voldemort wanted to kill Harry himself. Sharlen slapped him, hard.
"How dare you-"
"It's your own fault, messing around with all those blood traitors," Draco shouted furiously, white-blond hair askew from her impact. She reared back to hit him again but he caught her forearm. Her eyes widened with the vision of him, Crabbe, and Goyle tormenting Ron and Hermione by the Shrieking Shack years ago. "They flock together, they'll likely die together. You should know better than anyone that it's the fastest way to die, befriending Mudbloods. You need to get on the right side, and quickly."
Sharlen wrenched her arm away, saying firmly, "I am on the right side." In the back of her mind she remembered what the tarot reading had told her that morning and pointedly ignored it. She didn't care what Malfoy could do to her. All she felt was ire. "What happened to you, Draco?" she asked suddenly, catching him off guard. "Are you incapable of seeing that the path chosen for you is wrong? That wizards have no claim over Muggles just because we're powerful? You have a choice, Draco. You can fight back."
"Your father will kill me and my entire family if I defy him, surely you know that," he spat at her. "What's wrong, Sharlen?" he asked with a sly grin. "Has sleeping with Potter undone all the evil Snape's instilled in you all these years? Need to be purified?"
She took a step back and brought her arm roughly through the air, watching as Malfoy recoiled again from the invisible force hitting him in the same spot on his face.
"Look, Sharlen," Malfoy spat at her, hand on his pink cheek, "You're either in or you're out. Your father knows no gray area." He walked close to her, inches from her face as she glared daggers at him. "You're with me or you're against me. That's all there is to it. I don't care who gets in my way."
"You better start caring if you know what's good for you," Sharlen hissed at him, shaking with anger.
"Or you'll do what?" Malfoy said, something insane in his glare. He raised his head slightly, proudly. "How do you think your father will respond when he hears his daughter has been hindering my progress all year?"
"You dare try to blackmail me?" Sharlen shouted. "If you think my father would ever take your word over mine then you are seriously disturbed. I told you to end this mission and I meant it."
"Don't you understand I have to do this?" Malfoy shouted, raising his wand and adding "Ventus!" Sharen was thrown back by a strong gust of wind that knocked her back into the wall. Sharlen winced, the breath knocked out of her, one eye closed in pain as she watched Draco with his wand pointed at her chest. "I don't answer to you, so stay out of my way or I'll silence you myself!"
Sharlen put up her hands to retaliate as Draco raised his wand again, but Snape burst through the door and disarmed Draco with a wave of his own wand. All of them were silent, Sharlen and Draco breathing hard, until finally Snape jerked his head roughly at Draco, signaling that he needed to leave. He stuffed the discarded wand back in its master's hand as he stormed off, then he slammed the door shut behind him. Despite herself, Sharlen felt her knees shaking slightly.
"What have I told you-" Snape began threateningly through gritted teeth, but Sharlen cut him off.
"NOTHING!" she screamed, throwing her hands up defeatedly. "I barely even see you outside of classes anymore, it's like I've stopped existing!" Snape fell silent and watched her, eyes narrowed. His aura burned guiltily. "I want to know what you're up to!"
"As it has been for your entire life, you are to do what I say and trust that I alone know what's best for you," he said sternly, saying every word with a clear, cold fury, his knuckles white in his grip on his wand. "You are too insolent for your own good, it is truly a chore keeping you alive."
"Well I'm sorry to inconvenience you!" Sharlen said coldly. "But I will get to the bottom of this, I know what Draco is up to and I will do everything in my power to-"
"You are to leave him to me!" Snape shouted, his voice ringing around the empty classroom. "If you find yourself incapable of avoiding matters that don't concern you, I will pull you from the school immediately!"
"And do what with me?" she asked, crossing her arms.
Snape pulled the door open roughly and swept out with a final, "Whatever is necessary."
Sharlen found Harry later once he and Hermione had left the Weasleys alone, and Hermione seemed to be in much brighter spirits. It seemed her stalemate with Ron may finally be over. "Lavender showed up of course, she was quite upset," Hermione said happily. "She seemed to think I was only there now that Ron is 'all interesting.'"
"What a pile of rubbish, he was poisoned," Sharlen said half-heartedly, her head swimming with her altercation with Draco earlier. She felt removed and distant.
"That's what I said!" Hermione gushed.
Halfway to the Gryffindor Common Room, the three met up with Romilda Vane heading the opposite way. Sharlen averted her eyes, but Harry and Hermione's narrowed.
"Oh, hello Harry," Romilda said brightly, confidently. "Enjoying your weekend?"
"Not much," Harry replied coldly.
Hermione took a step forward menacingly. "If I find out you've been sneaking love potions into sweets again I'll turn you in to Professor McGonagall," she said quietly. "It's against school rules. You have no idea the trouble you've caused."
"Oh please, Miss Prefect," Romilda sneered, tossing back her hair, "I don't know what you're on about."
"You can deny it all you want," Hermione said coolly, crossing her arms over her chest, "but don't do it again."
"Rather a dark thing to do," Sharlen muttered suddenly, looking from the ground to Romilda, "sneaking a potion to someone without them knowing, don't you think?"
Unnerved, Romilda stared at Sharlen for a second before shaking herself and standing up tall again. "Bold words from someone who has so obviously bewitched Harry Potter."
"Excuse me?" Harry and Sharlen said together.
"Harry, you could have anyone you wanted, anyone!" she shouted. "And you choose a Slytherin? It's quite apparent you're already under a spell."
"It serves no one to be prejudiced against other houses than your own," Hermione snapped. "That's what dark wizards do best."
"Who I date is really none of your concern, Romilda," Harry said sharply, taking Sharlen's hand, "And our best friend was poisoned today thanks to you, so if you don't mind, we'll be going now." He pulled Sharlen past Romilda and on toward the Common Room, Hermione close behind.
"Just ignore her, Sharlen," Hermione muttered, looking back over her shoulder. "She's as entitled as Cormac…"
But it seemed Hermione had jinxed them, because the second they went through the Fat Lady's portrait, Cormac was there to meet them. It was apparent after just a few words from him that Ron's situation was widely known throughout the school. Hermione made herself scarce while he heckled Harry about how he should naturally be Keeper now that Ron was going to be out for the upcoming game, and Harry begrudgingly had to agree and told him when practices would be that week. When they were finally free of him, Harry led Sharlen over to two of the armchairs by the fire.
He put his hands to his face and slumped down in his chair with a brief groan. Sharlen patted his knee reassuringly. "It won't be so bad, he at least is capable."
"When he's not being the most arrogant person I have possibly ever met, save Gilderoy Lockheart," Harry muttered darkly. Sharlen stood and placed herself on his lap, legs draping over the arms of the chair. Harry's arms found their way around her. Then he began to tell her what he, Hermione, Fred, and George had discussed about the attacks and how they must be linked. Sharlen bit her tongue about her altercation with Malfoy, but agreed with what Hermione said about the attacker not caring who got in their way.
"Hagrid also said Snape and Dumbledore had a row," he said meaningfully, searching her face for clues.
Sharlen was taken aback. "Did they?"
"Well Hagrid was hesitant to talk about it, but apparently there's something Snape agreed to do for Dumbledore that he wants out of. Any ideas?"
Sharlen frowned at her lap. It couldn't have anything to do with that Unbreakable Vow, there was no getting out of that. Dumbledore said he trusted Snape completely… so what were they fighting about? "Search me. Snape has all but avoided me since just before the holidays."
Harry seemed reluctant to drop it, but she assured him she had no idea what their fight could have been about. "Well we already suspect Draco, and Dumbledore mentioned making investigations into his House…"
"That makes sense," she agreed. "Harry, you know I'm happy to play detective with you and Malfoy's a snake for sure, but we still don't have proof. We have to keep an eye out."
He searched her eyes seriously. "About Romilda…"
"Don't worry about it. I'm not," Sharlen interrupted. In truth, what the girl had said about her had stunned her a little. Is this really what people thought about her relationship with Harry? But she'd realized, while Cormac had heckled Harry, that she hardly cared.
"But she's right," he said quietly. "You have enchanted me."
Her cheeks colored almost instantly and she looked down to his chest. "Harry…"
"I really don't care what anyone thinks about us being together," he said seriously, craning his neck to catch her gaze again. "I want you here." Sharlen smiled at Harry and gave him a quick kiss. "I can't believe I've forgotten, but Ron's brother Bill is getting married this summer. Would you come with me?"
"Of course I will!" she said excitedly, sitting up straighter. "A wedding? A real wedding?"
Harry chuckled. "I'm assuming you've never been to one? I haven't either."
"I would love to go with you." Sharlen considered him for several long seconds, her fight with Malfoy completely erased from her mind. "Want me to scare Cormac into behaving? I have my ways," she said playfully, brushing back his unruly hair from his forehead gently.
Harry gave a sigh of coltish relief and a grin. "That would be fantastic, thank you."
Sharlen leaned back slightly to consider him, unable to help the smile on her lips as her eyes swept over him. His aura brimmed a deep red for her.
"I know you're looking at my aura," Harry said quietly, mischief in his eyes.
"I think you love me, Harry Potter," she said with a grin.
He pulled her closer and gave her a long, slow kiss.
