A/N: For some reason, my previous chapter had been removed, forcing me to change the rating of this story from T to M. Personally, I do not find this rating justified, but will keep it nonetheless. I assume that someone reported the chapter, and I have no complaints, seeing as this is your right. However, I would appreciate it if you sent me a message, explaining the problem, rather than resorting to drastic measures. Furthermore, I would like to make one thing clear. Rose is not a hero, please do not expect her to act like one.
On another note, thank you very much for the reviews, I enjoy hearing from you. Please keep them coming.
Chapter 40: Shackles
I stood stock still in a wide, empty, circular room. I inhaled deeply once more, my breathing the only sound meeting my ears, and released the same intake of air in a long, despondent sigh.
It was time.
I had given her my word. A part of me, quite a substantial part of me, wanted, demanded even, that I turned on my heel and left this room. This was wrong, I knew it well. It should have never come to this. Even for us, this was by far too dangerous.
There were still a couple of seconds left, I could still decide to say no.
But it would have no meaning. She'd simply go to Salazar. No matter what I did, she'd learn. And she'd find him. The only way for me to protect her was to teach her myself.
In a world of wrong, this is the only right I knew of.
Unbidden memories surfaced in my mind, taking me to another time and another place. This room was quiet no more, her screams filled its every crevice. I glanced at my hands, seeing pale flesh be coloured red. She bled so heavily she dyed the fabric of my couch red.
I heard knocking on the doors and just barely remember having called out "Enter."
This was a fool's game, like giving a dagger to a toddler and hoping that, as he ran with it from your reach, he would not fall over his own feet. Because this dagger would be waiting.
There were two sets of footsteps entering, causing dread to drift downwards in my stomach, settling there like lead and burying my feet in the ground. In this action, Arielle demonstrated the breadth of her ignorance. It was not in the nature of Arts to forgive mistakes, or ignorance.
I inhaled deeply once more, resolve gaining dominion in my mind. There were methods in my repertoire that could teach even one as disinclined as Claudia to cast a skin boiling curse. But I found myself hesitant in using them, for they bore promise of unimaginable torment. I held no such hesitation at present. Mercy was a luxury ill-permitted to the wicked.
My gaze hardened and I heard my voice speak, just barely conscious of my lips moving.
"You are early."
It took her no more than a second to reply, spouting nonsense. "You know me Lindsy, manners and propriety have always been my strong points."
Her tone was cheerful, in stark contrast to my sombre mood. As I turned around, another contrast sprung at me.
As I observed her choice of clothing, I was once more rudely reminded that half her blood hailed from a muggle lineage. Lynette knew so little of the Arts, and it seemed she taught her daughter nothing. How worrying.
Arielle arrived clad in dark running shoes, more appropriate for a long walk than this unfortunate occasion. For some reason, both she and Claudia assumed that there would be some running involved in learning dark magic. Foolish girls, nobody runs from the Arts. In accordance with her completely wrong assumption, Arielle had chosen to wear black Nike sweatpants, whatever Nike might be, an odd jacket with white sleeves and red bodice, which I was later to learn was called a varsity jacket and a black t-shirt. However inappropriate her choice of clothing had been, I confess to slight approval of the sign sprawled across her dreadful shirt. We are the poisoned youth.
How fitting.
But I had little time to waste on disapproval, focusing instead on the task ahead. There can be no room for error.
"Indeed" I found myself responding, before my eyes wandered to Arielle's left, meeting the warm gaze of familiar yellow eyes.
Arielle was good at hiding her emotions, she had had years of experience. In contrast, Shadow was merely a child and did less well in hiding her sentiments. Perhaps that was not entirely true. Shadow was loyal to a fault, mirroring her mistress' feelings. She trusted me. My heart fell a little as I noted that she would not trust me as much after this afternoon.
Arielle opened her mouth to speak, having nothing to say, I knew, but attempting to speak anyway, in an effort to end this tense silence.
But I would not give her the chance. I had nothing to say to her.
"Leave." I spoke, still holding Shadow's gaze, observing as slight confusion appeared in their mind.
"I will give you only one chance" I continued, my eyes darting to Arielle, to see her features settling in a practice mask of impassiveness "leave." my eyes returned to Shadow, seeing anger blossom in hers. She knew how this sentence ends.
"Or I will kill you."
She let no emotion show on her face, but Arielle could scarcely hide the outrage in her voice.
"Excuse me?" she spoke, her voice turning cold, an eyebrow raised. Her hand reached instinctively down, settling on the head of her familiar.
"Silence" I snarled, a feral quality to my voice. I watched as her gaze hardened, assuming a quality that could render weaker witches a terrified heap. I was never weak. "You have no voice in this room, unless I bestow it upon you."
"To hell with that" snapped Arielle, her lips pulling in a snarl, revealing her teeth. "I won't fucking stay silent while you threaten my familiar! You are no Queen of mine, you don't get to fucking command me a single thing."
I observed as her hand tightened on the head of her familiar. I knew it itched for her wand.
I observed her coldly, realizing in that moment how dire our circumstances were. Arielle bowed to no one, living by her own rules, and her own rules only. I had no such luxury, and if she were to learn these Arts, she would do well to do away with hers.
"I hope you realize how extremely fortunate both you and Shadow are" I spoke, my voice lowering with each word ever more, Arielle's rage growing proportionally. Apparently, she did not consider them to be fortunate at all. "If it had been Salazar standing here and not I, he would have cast on sight."
My anger got the best of me by the time the sentence was finished, my words unintentionally sharpening into a snarl. I was to teach someone of her disposition Art passed down to me by generations upon generations of pureblooded wizards, and she dared disrespect me?
For a moment, there was murderous rage in those sky blue eyes. She seemed to regain some sense in another heartbeat, but could not help the change in her voice.
"Fucking hell if I'd allow him to lay one single fucking curse on my familiar." She managed through grit teeth, her tone much like mine had been, though slightly more feral in quality.
"You misunderstand" I spoke, raising my chin and looking down my nose at her, " you would have no choice in the matter. Or do you perhaps imagine that you could outduel Salazar Slytherin himself?"
Anger once more flashed on her face, lingering on her features. This time however, she employed no effort to conceal her rage.
"I don't care if it's the fucking four founders that I'm standing against Rosalind!" hissed Arielle, unconsciously burying her fingers in Shadow's fur in her effort to subdue her raging heart "Don't imagine for a second that I would not fight with everything I had to keep her safe!"
I know you'd stop at nothing to protect her Arielle. But I'm not the one endangering her. You are.
"It seems you misunderstand me once again" I replied calmly, as if completely undisturbed by her statement. This tone seemed to irk Shadow, for she let out a low, guttural growl. She wished to pace, I knew well, but her mistress held her in place. "you are at fault here, not Salazar or me. The Dark Arts have a very specific code of manners characteristic to them alone. By bringing another living being to this lesson, irrespective of it being a familiar or any other creature, you show the greatest disrespect towards your teacher. Salazar would not have stopped at cursing Shadow, you would have been next."
"How in the name of Merlin's soggiest pants could I have known that? I can't show you disrespect if I don't know what the fucking rules are!" Snapped Arielle, frustrated and angered at the same time.
Unfortunately, she was correct. At times, I forget that Arielle is of mixed blood and treat her as if she were one of my pureblooded kin. She had no knowledge of etiquette expected on this occasion, I should have taken that into account. The fault was mine.
"Disrespect is disrespect, intentional or not." I replied, holding her gaze. Ignorance was no excuse for her later behaviour.
"You pig-headed –" snarled Arielle, wisely choosing not to end that sentence. By Merlin, I would have cursed her into the next century. She seemed to take a moment to get her bearings, before uttering through her teeth: "Just tell me the rules."
I observed her for a moment more, employing inhuman effort to fight down anger frothing in the very bottom of my stomach. It would not do for me to lose my temper here.
"Very well." I spoke, pleased with the impassiveness pervading my voice "But there is one matter to be addressed first. You should be aware that many consider the Arts to be one of the oldest, if not the oldest form of magic in existence. They are highly esteemed and revered by many, and are taught under rules of a strict etiquette. The rules I am about to state are considered absolute in any teaching of the Arts, I will accept nothing but utter compliance with them. Provide me with anything else, and this mentorship ends."
She never broke eye contact with me, staring at me as if she were angry with everything and nothing at the same time. I knew the feeling well, but there was little more I could do to aid her. I already did all I could possibly think of to ease this painful ordeal.
"These are my rules." I spoke, deliberately turning my back to her. Here, I was her mentor, not her friend. It was best she adjusted to the difference quickly. "You are not to speak unless spoken to. You are not to bring into question anything I may say, demand or do. You are not to bring another living being to practice. I shall expect you to arrive without tardiness and comply with my every demand. You may suggest what you would wish to learn, but I alone decide what you are taught and when. Finally, the sessions end when I end them, no sooner and no later."
I stared straight ahead, seeing nothing but the vast empty darkness of the room around us. A small breath was all the time I allowed myself to hesitate, before turning around, once more raising my chin.
"I have stated my terms. Should you find yourself willing and able to comply with them as stated here, send away your familiar. However, should you find these terms unsuitable, please leave." I spoke but paused here, for a moment uncertain. What I spoke next should leave no room for ambiguities. It was imperative. "I wish to make myself clear on this matter. You will find no better offer, that much is certain. Should you choose to stay, you will have no choice but to stay until I judge you to be of adequate skill. But should you choose to leave, you can never come back."
She stared at me with such angry, distant eyes. Shadow let out a small growl beside her, echoing her turmoil, but Arielle stood still, her features set into a practiced mask.
I knew this would be difficult for her, I knew I was presenting her with an almost insurmountable challenge, but I had faith in her. Even if she had so little faith in me. It was abundantly clear from her gaze that she believed me to be unaware as to the full implications of my demands. Being of such free, unbound spirit, Arielle had always struggled to tame her wild nature enough to bend the rules, instead of outright breaking them. That is not to say that she was ignorant of them. On the contrary, she made every effort to learn them by heart, lest she be caught unawares.
And here I was, intending to tame that which was born to roam free.
Yet it was her who did not understand. The etiquette of Dark Arts is much more complex and much more demanding than these few rules I was to impose on her. I had already made several important concessions for her sake.
I knew Salazar would have no such courtesy. He would not even care.
It may have been minutes, it may have been hours, but I felt myself breathe out in relief as Arielle made a small, deliberate gesture with her hand. For a moment, I believed Shadow would protest, but she bowed her head lightly in another heartbeat, before slowly turning and making for the doors.
We watched her depart , her big paws meeting the ground noiselessly. Serpen could be quiet when he wished to be, but I knew him to be secretly jealous of this level of stealth. As the doors closed behind her familiar, Arielle once more turned towards me, this time not uttering a single word.
She was angry with me, and that was just as well. The Arts thrived on anger.
"Let us begin." I spoke, reaching into my pocket. Arielle mirrored my action, assuming that I would be reaching for my wand , drawing hers in preparation. Yet that was not the case, and I produced a small wooden box, which shivered lightly on my open palm, before growing to twice its size.
"Put away your wand" I spoke, opening the small box delicately "you will not be needing it today."
If I was right, it would be a long, long while before she would be allowed to practice Dark Arts. The curses that I intended to teach her were by far too dangerous at present.
I saw a small smirk pull on her lips as she put her wand away once more into the premises of her jacket, but she remained otherwise unresponsive.
I removed the satin bedding and wrapped my fingers around two small, brilliantly white marbles. They had a thin white string connecting them, passing through them and stretching in equal length from their ends. Nymph Tears could be passed for jewellery to an unsuspecting individual, their only oddity their curious warmth. They always matched the body temperature of their user, this being the only indicator of the pulsing life within.
I took them out, placing them gently in my open palm. It had been a while since I last made use of these beautiful artefacts.
"Deprehendo" I spoke, observing as the white string shivered before its ends sprung to life, worming their way to my wrists and forming a small, tight circle on each hand, just above the palm. The marbles rose slowly, each levitating to one of my sides, thin white string forming a closed circle about my person. Directly ahead of me, and directly behind me, I knew, formed small droplets. They grew quickly before my eyes, until they reached the size of their predecessors, then pulling sharply away from me, distorting the perfect shape of the circle. New marbles were ever more quick to grow, until I was surrounded by a web. There were fifty-six marbles here, each pure, each white.
"Many believe" I addressed Arielle, slowly raising my gaze from the web around me; "that all that is necessary to produce a dark spell is sufficient will to hurt your intended target. While it is true that there can be no dark magic without serious intent to cause pain, it is by no means sufficient. These matters are by far more complex."
"For one to produce any Dark Magic worth mentioning, one needs to have six factors: the aforementioned intent to hurt, sufficient skill in magic in general, a great deal of intelligence, a creative mind, a firm character and lastly, most importantly, talent. While I do not deny that there are practitioners that lack many of these aspects and are yet, quite surprisingly in some cases, capable of inflicting extraordinary pain, they are still hopelessly inferior to true Masters of the Arts."
I stopped here for a moment, feeling rage forming as a torrent in my mind at the mere thought of the blasted name.
"Despite what one may assume from the number of his followers" I spoke, pleased to have kept my voice void of any emotion "the Dark Lord has only two Masters. Bellatrix Lestrange" I uttered the name through grit teeth nonetheless "and Antonin Dolohov."
Pure hatred shone from her eyes at the mention of the latter name, ridding me of any doubt. Darkness will come easily to Arielle.
"It is important that you understand, Bellatrix is the more powerful of the two, but it is Dolohov that you ought to fear more. "
It pained me to think it, but Arielle would be in an immeasurable amount of danger.
"Bellatrix exceeds Dolohov in terms of power, skill and sheer lunacy. But Dolohov is endlessly creative, he has been said to create new curses mid-duel. "
Had our circumstances been different, I might have even admired the man for his skill. Creating a deadly curse under such difficult conditions, what is more, having complete control over its proceedings, was a testament of true mastery. It was only unfortunate that he chose to employ his talents on members of my family.
For that, I would see him bleed. I was considerate enough to allow this pleasure to Arielle, but that by no means implied that I could not watch. With all my heart, I wished he died a slow, excruciating death.
"Sadistic tough he may be, Antonin Dolohov is not insane. Outdueling him may prove more difficult than either of us can imagine."
Her hands clenched to her side, and somewhere at the very back of my mind, I wondered whether she were conscious of the change. Most likely not, bloodlust such as hers has little to do with sanity or consciousness.
She had not spoken a word thus far, abiding our agreement. I sincerely hoped she would continue to do so until the end. She may yet win.
"Yet it is not entirely impossible for one of your particular disposition. I have observed you to be in possession of great intelligence, exceeding that of most of our peers. You are creative as well, however inappropriately you choose to demonstrate said trait." her lips pulled up into an almost imperceptible smirk, grasping my meaning well.
I assessed her carefully once more, confirming my initial remarks. She had much potential, there was no doubt about that. Pressure once more rose up in my chest as I realized the severity of my situation. There was no room for error.
"Furthermore, you have proven yourself to be a witch of admirable skill, I see no reason to doubt your capabilities. After all, had I considered them to be anything less than masterful, we would not be standing here today." I knew my tone to be causal, void of any emotion, but it seemed to prompt a response from Arielle none the less. For the barest of moments, her defences gave in, allowing me to glimpse the barest hint of some strong emotion. Her eyes assumed their careful indifference the very next second, ridding me of any chance to discern the nature of said emotion.
No matter, there was little time to be lost on such pointless dawdling.
"And finally, you are in possession of an overwhelming intent to hurt. Forgive me, that's not quite true." I spoke, narrowing my eyes at her in scrutiny "It is not an intent, it is more of a desire. A primal need. And that is just as well. You will require all of the cruelty you are capable of mustering to outduel a Master."
I took in a slow, imperceptible breath, using this brief moment to arrange my thoughts in some semblance of order. Preparing myself to admit the uncomfortable truth.
"Yet, you find yourself disinclined towards the Arts. Not by choice of course, though I believe you would not make the choice of employing them if presented with at least one suitable alternative. You were simply born with no talent for the Arts what so ever. It will be very difficult to overcome this setback… though not impossible. But before that, starting today, we will work on the frailty of your character."
Once more, her eyes must have seen red.
I knew Arielle considered herself to be of firm character, unbending in face of dreadful circumstances. It was only natural she be insulted.
It was not my intention to hurt her.
"It seems you mistook my meaning." I spoke, inclining my head apologetically "I am well aware of your fortitude. "
Her eyes shone with feral anger once more, displaying clearly that she did not believe one single word. But it was true. Perhaps there was no one in the world who could understand her as well as I did.
"But the Dark Arts require an entirely different kind of strength. The Dark Arts are, for all intents and purposes, alive. Mastering them is simply a matter of control. You either control the Arts, or the Arts control you. And if the Arts should prevail… the consequences are ghastly."
"That is why" I spoke, my gaze now lowering once more to the perfect whiteness that surrounded me, eerie shadows dancing on the web in the candlelight "I refuse to teach you a single spell before I am sure that you can control the dark impulses nestled in your mind. For that purpose, we will employ Nymph tears."
I indicated to the web with my left hand, and Arielle lowered her eyes to it, narrowing them in scrutiny. She must have assumed this to be a Dark artefact, and she would have been right to a degree. Yet this was the lightest artefact known to the Arts.
"These pearls" I said, faintly aware of what I was saying, instead choosing to employ most of my concentration in summoning as much rage, hatred and desperation as I possibly could, before bending it to my will. "are found only off the coast of one small Japanese island. They are among the purest materials known to wizarding kind, capable of detecting even the slightest bit of darkness. Traditionally, they are worn as jewellery among local witches, who are thus able to instantly detect Dark Arts practitioners. "
I watched as marble after marble turned from silver to grey, from grey to black. Ten pearls.
"It is in the nature of the Arts to employ to their advantage that which was once used against them." Fifteen pearls. Control came to me easily still, much easier than before, but I could feel myself reaching the threshold. Soon, the darkness would fight back. Eighteen pearls. "Therefore, it was not long after they learnt of their potential that the Masters contrived a way to use these pearls in the Arts."
Twenty two pearls. I could feel the first hints of resistance as a small tugging sensation at the very edges of the web.
"Due to their great sensitivity, the pearls are used for training purposes. Through continuous use, they bear promise of control of even the darkest impulses. This will be your first lesson."
Twenty seven pearls. There was no more tugging. Instead, it felt as if the darkness that spread like smoke from my wrists assumed a corporal form, pulling forward wildly in its effort to rage free. I lowered my eyes to the web, which now demanded my full attention.
I did not allow myself to betray a single sign of struggle thus far, but I knew that it would only be a matter of time.
Thirty one. With each pearl, the beast grew ever stronger. It was trashing now, and it will soon turn its ugly head towards me. In that moment, I would have to let go.
But this was not so much about Arielle anymore. Instead, I wished to know how far I had progressed since the last time I wore these pristine shackles. Thirty three. I felt my left hand twitching, the only visible sign of an internal struggle. I wanted more, if but for only one pearl, I wanted to grow more. Thirty five.
More, I needed more.
Thirty seven.
I could feel the first beads of sweat appear on the nape of my neck. The beast stopped trashing. Thirty eight.
As it moved further, darkening the next pearl to a light ashen colour, I felt the beast turn. My reaction was instantaneous, and a flood of white returned to my wrists. The web glowed with a pure white sheen again.
"There are fifty-six pearls in this web. Though rarely used, it is often recognized as one of the only reliable indicators of power in the Arts. For one to be called a Master, one has to be able to control more than thirty-five pearls. At present, I am capable of controlling thirty-eight. You will not be taught until you are able to control ten."
Slowly, Arielle raised her eyes to meet mine. There was a question in them, a question she needed not voice.
"Antonin Dolohov is rumoured to be able to control forty pearls."
For a while, there was silence. We both understood that she would never reach that number. Fortunately, she was born under some lucky stars.
"This is not how I imagined our first lesson." I spoke, once more reaching into my pocket. "I was not aware of the anger I would spur in your heart. Therefore, I acquired other means of incitement. "
This time, the pouch wriggled vividly, the creatures within it overjoyed. They too were able to sense darkness, welcoming it like a dear, old friend.
I would do well to explain the process first, lest Arielle react in the only natural way. Violently.
"But first, Cado!" The pearls at the end of the web shivered slightly before retracing their steps, folding into their neighbours slowly at first, then picking up speed. The web unravelled before our eyes, the white fabric of its string now rushing back to the web's heart. Finally, I was left with only two pearls, one fastened to each of my wrists. I raised my hands to hip length in front of me, bringing them together. Once more the pearls shivered, before finally relinquishing their hold and moving to hover two inches from my hands.
I moved forward at that, approaching Arielle for the first time. The pearls followed, their magic following mine for the moment.
As I stopped in front of her, Arielle raised her own hands, mimicking my earlier gesture. Clever.
"Shall I assume you remember the incantation?" I asked, watching as the pearls moved towards her, bidden to do so by my unspoken command.
"Deprehendo" spoke Arielle in reply, once more bewitching the pearls.
I turned my back to her in response, walking away. Though enchanting, I had no patience to marvel the web's beauty. I was by far too unnerved by what was to follow.
I stopped a couple of paces away from her, lowering myself to my knees for the moment and gently depositing the small pouch on the ground. The beetles stilled at the contact, waiting impatiently.
Rising once more to my feet, I returned to my first post, keeping my distance. I was to be a mere observer, it would not do for my magic to interfere with the process.
The web had formed around her, and Arielle once more focused all her attention on me. I knew she was anxious to start, but there remained one last thing to be said.
"That black pouch is bewitched to restrain a set of Gemini Simulacrum beetles. They are creatures native to the Amazonian rainforest, where they always hatch in pairs. Though capable of a very singular kind of magic, they are held in high regard by Dark Arts practitioners. These beetles are considered to be the best shape shifters in existence."
Arielle's eyes wandered to the pouch, her interest piqued.
"The first beetle of the pair is responsible for incorporating their target, doing so with admirable skill. These body doubles can easily pass the most severe scrutiny. The second beetle is even more frightening. It impersonates the very soul of its target, assuming its memories, thoughts, emotions and character. To be able to perform their task, they require only a name."
"The man summoned here will resemble his counterpart in every aspect. Should he be allowed to do so, he would attempt to harm you. Therefore, I will petrify him on the spot. And Arielle…" I spoke, finally earning her attention.
She raised her eyes, enabling me to read well into her gaze as I spoke next.
"He will remember that night."
Rage flared in her eyes, followed by unutterable hate. She had known all along whom I would summon.
"This exercise does not require you to hold yourself back or subdue your heart. Instead, try to force that rage, that hate, into submission. The pearls will sense the darkness swivelling inside of you, they will channel the beast. This is very important Arielle, the web will fight you. The moment you feel it turning on you, you need to let go. I understand it will be difficult, but you must let go. Or the web will turn against you. Do you understand?"
She stood still for a moment, struggling to contain her rage. The strings on her wrists were black already, and the first pearl was ashen, changing shade with every heartbeat. Then, she gave me one single nod.
Merlin help us both.
I pulled out my wand, pointing it slowly at the pouch on the floor.
"Patefio!" I spoke, watching as two small sparks appeared over the pouch, before the purple string sprung to life, undoing its knot. For a moment, all was still. Another blink of an eye, and the black fabric of the pouch collapsed outward, revealing two small, silver bugs. They had a small, silver coloured shell that quickly turned black, mirroring its surroundings. Eight small legs on each side enabled them quick movement, but they stood still. Waiting. Their heads were small with two sharp pincers on top. Though not physically conjoined, I knew them to act in mirror like unity.
They were servile beasts, aligning themselves with the most powerful source of Dark Magic present. In this case, they were mine to use.
"Antonin Dolohov" I spoke, my wand aimed at them still. I would need to cast momentarily.
They scuttled together at my command, joining pincers. They were a dark mass for a moment, before growing rapidly, leaving silver coloured powder in their wake.
It was seconds later that we beheld a burly man with a long, twisted face, standing in the place of the beetles. His brown eyes held mine for a moment, before turning to Arielle. He did not recognize me, but I knew he would remember her.
"Petrificus Totalus!" I spoke, freezing the man just as he opened his mouth to speak, one of his hands already half-way to his pocket, reaching for his wand.
No sound escaped her, but her features twisted, displaying murderous intent. I quickly glanced to the web, watching as rage flowed from Arielle like a tidal wave, quickly rendering three pearls black. It was happening too fast, she'd lose control any moment now.
I did nothing to stop her, even though I knew that she would be in a great deal of pain in mere seconds. The web would retaliate.
And today, pain was my ally.
As I had predicted, having darkened the fourth pearl, Arielle lost control. The fifth pearl had begun to darken, turning silver for the tiniest second, before becoming perfectly white once more. A tide of white rushed to Arielle, in a course by far too frantic. She didn't let go in time.
As the strings on her wrists turned white, a flash of white light travelled from the edges of the web, only to hit Arielle in the left shoulder.
She merely blinked.
In that moment, I was certain my legs would give out beneath me.
No. Please, no.
That was a nasty cut, blood was already seeping from it, darkening her shirt. It must have hurt like hell. And she did not even grimace.
She did not feel that pain.
Please, not her.
I knew she had been traumatized by her last duel with Dolohov, but I did not know, I could not conceive, that the trauma was this great. Even now, I dared not believe it.
Merlin, this was bad. She was beyond my help.
I knew shock to be written plainly across my features, and I struggled to gain some composure. Anger clouded her judgement, but even so, Arielle was by far too perceptive. She noticed something was amiss, and I struggled to school my features into an impassive mask.
I almost lost her, without even realizing it.
I pointed my wand at Dolohov, who seemed to irresistibly attract Arielle's eyes, speaking clearly "Cado!"
The figure started once, as if struck by lightning, before disintegrating into silver powder that rained on the floor. I watched the powder gather in two small heaps, as if swept by invisible wind, before once more forming two small beetles. In seconds, their shells turned black.
"Again." I spoke, addressing Arielle but unable to look at her. My newest revelation was by far too dire. "Antonin Dolohov."
I stood in silence once more, observing Arielle's retreating back. She walked slowly, laboriously, exhaustion pervading her every step.
With a small, inaudible sigh, I lowered my gaze to my hands, where I once more found the Nymph Tears. I brushed my fingers against the warm marbles, once more finding their surface to be without blemish.
Arielle had been allowed four more attempts before I judged it best to end our lesson. The second attempt had been a success, with four pearls dyed black. The fifth pearl had begun to darken as well, but this time, Arielle had been prepared. She had closed her eyes, letting go.
I watched with slight trepidation as ever more visible signs of exhaustion appeared on her face. Each further attempt left her more and more drained, and each had been less and less of a success. Finally, she was able to dye but two pearls black.
The lesson had come to its end, I could stop being her mentor and once again become her friend.
Anxiety once more wormed its way into my heart as I placed the small box in my pocket.
I needed a friend tonight.
Arielle had not left the room, instead choosing to settle on the first step of a short flight of stairs that led downward, to the southern wing of the trunk.
I made a step forward, but found myself hesitant to proceed. What did I want her to say? What in the world was I hopping for? I knew very well what had to be done.
But I had to talk about it. Merlin, I had to talk.
My heels clicked loudly as they met the stone floor, but Arielle betrayed no sign of recognition. Perhaps she could not hear them at all. Even as I took a seat beside her, she seemed to take no notice of my presence. She crossed her hands in her lap, staring straight ahead.
Her eyes were wide open, but there was no sight in them.
I had to talk, yes. But this was no time for words.
We sat there in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Time seemed different in this dark room. Nobody could see us here, I was sure. There was no need for pretences.
It took more effort than usual, for my mind had thus far been blissfully blank, but I urged my thoughts to form one coherent whole. And the trunk was prompt in answering my unspoken plea. I did not see them appear, but I knew them to be beside me, and I reached to my left, producing two crystal glasses and a bottle of dark amber liquid.
For once, I chose not to use magic, instead wrapping my fingers around the cold glass. The crystal was heavy in my hands, but I welcomed the sensation, finding it easier to contemplate than the task ahead.
I offered her the drink, but Arielle did not seem to notice my hand. I held it for a while, before deciding to leave it levitating before her, giving her time to notice it on her own rather than disturb whatever slumber she chose to enter.
I poured myself a glass as well, setting the bottle aside. Arielle would surely drink at least one shot more, but one drink was enough for me. I did not wish to drown my pain. I wanted it to hurt, because the pain made it real.
I needed it to be real.
I took a small sip, grimacing slightly as the liquid burnt down my throat. This was never my drink of choice.
Some more time passed this way, me cradling my glass in both hands and Arielle taking no notice of hers. Then, as if finally waking from a deep sleep, Arielle raised her hand, grasping the offered glass.
I watched from the corner of my eyes as she took a long sip before lowering her glass to hover just above her knees. She held it still for a moment before slowly swirling the drink.
"Firewhisky Lindsy?" asked she after a while, her tone flat, bearing no hint of her usual, teasing demeanour "hardly your style, is it?"
"No." I replied, finding that I sounded by far more collected than I actually was "But it is yours."
"True." Said she, nodding her head once in acknowledgment before taking another long sip. She reminded me of Sirius in that moment, and I chose not to consider the true extent of the similarity between my two cousins.
I was quiet for some more time, a flood of words building unstoppably somewhere in the back of my mind.
And then came a moment in which I could remain silent no more.
"He could have stopped it." I heard myself speak, some oppressive emotion weighing down on my heart.
Arielle was slow to react, but she turned to me at last with a look of confusion etched into her features. I suppose it was only natural, with me spouting random nonsense.
"Who, what…" she asked and sighed, closing her eyes for the moment "I'm sorry Linds, you lost me."
I took a moment to compose myself, struggling to find the best way of uttering this horrible truth.
I lowered my gaze to my glass, observing the burning liquid, remembering all too vividly the mirth in his eyes as he finally showed his hand.
"Blaise had been able to stop a curse of mine, at least that cast at him, since his third year." I spoke, uttering all that needed to be known, but unable to stop myself from saying more "Every time I cast a curse at him, every time I hurt him, he was able to stop me. Or, he could have put up a bloody good fight."
I took a sip, holding the liquid in my mouth for a moment before swallowing, feeling my lips burn.
"He just chose not to."
I gradually became aware of a persistent tapping noise to my right, and I glanced at Arielle, only to see her tapping her nails against the crystal.
"Impressive" decided she finally, glancing at her glass and wrapping her fingers around it again "though not surprising."
Not surprising? I thought, glancing at her. I had been completely shocked, and she was not even surprised? What had she seen in the man that I had not? Was I truly so blind when it came to him?
"Well, I was surprised" I spoke, taking one more sip, the liquid in my glass fast diminishing. "I was wrong about Blaise Zabini."
Something in my chest ached at these words. This should never have happened. Not to me, not with him.
A wry smiled pulled on her lips, as if she were enjoying some distasteful joke known only to her.
"This whole bloody year is wrong." Replied Arielle, looking at me with such dead eyes.
I looked away, once more focusing on my glass. She resumed her tapping, and I took one more sip. I could not feel the burning anymore, and it was with great regret that I concluded I had enough liquid for just one more taste.
"He is in love with me." I heard myself say, words coming easier now. Yet I spoke with no little regret.
Arielle, ever the compassionate witch, rolled her eyes in response.
"That, my friend, is obvious , now…" spoke she, but stopped for a moment; "the question is…."
She let her sentence trail off, having no real need to finish it. I knew very well what the question was.
How do I say it? How do I allow such inappropriate things to be uttered? Bloody hell, this was beyond difficult.
But it needed to be said.
"I-" I spoke, hesitating for a moment, fighting a lump that formed in my throat "I am in love with Blaise Zabini."
The pain was now a dull ache in my chest, pervading every thought.
Arielle remained quiet, using the moment to gulp down some more of that whiskey. I had given her nearly double the amount that I had poured myself, but she had even less whiskey now than I did.
"I know" she said, once more beginning to swirl the glass, watching as liquid climbed its walls, almost reaching the rim. "and I still can't help you."
Ah, she misunderstood me. I was not asking for a potion or a drug. I did not require that kind of help.
"I don't need help" I pronounced the word like an oddity, knowing well that it had been foolish of me to ever suggest such a notion. "Nothing I do can change how I feel about him."
I noticed her head turning from the corner of my eye, but kept my gaze fixed on the dark wall before us.
"Good." Spoke she, a curious edge to her tone. Was that relief? "So, what are you going to do about it? Push him away, or let him in?"
She was careful to keep her tone neutral, but I knew well which of the two alternatives she was rooting for. I turned to her slowly, meeting her gaze.
"Ultimately…" I said, a throbbing pain appearing in my chest, "I will break his heart."
She held my gaze for a moment or two more, before sighing and turning from me. She shook her head, one more wry smile gracing her lips.
"Could you for once be less dramatic?" asked she, annoyance lacing her words "Just say you're going to push him away. Life has enough drama on its own, let's not add to it."
I observed her face for a moment, a feeling of betrayal settling in my chest. I was quick to smother it, however, declaring myself a fool once more. I should have known she would not understand my pain. Indeed, I could hardly understand it myself.
Perhaps she was in too much pain herself.
I watched as she downed what was left of her drink, setting the glass on the stone step to her right. She sighed once, before lifting her right hand to the wound on her shoulder, probing it gently with her fingers.
"I should clean this before it gets infected." She muttered, more to herself than to me.
"Turn to me" I spoke, reaching into my robes once more, curling my fingers around my wand. This wound was caused by a dark spell, should she attempt to heal it with light methods, it will surely leave a scar. Arielle did not need more scars.
She did as she was told, and I raised my wand, pointing it at the top end of her wound.
"Vulnera Sanentur!" I called, tracing the length of the wound, watching as blood disappeared and flesh healed. One more time. "Vulnera Sanentur!"
All that was left of a once gruesome wound was slightly pink skin. It would pale with time, leaving no scar in its wake.
I raised my gaze, meeting her eyes, something in me demanding to try again. I wanted someone to understand. At least someone, at least one person who would not hate me for what I would surely have to do.
This one time, I allowed myself to become vulnerable.
"I am not being dramatic Arielle" I said, feeling exhaustion settle in my very soul "I am saving his life."
"I doubt he will see it that way" replied she, that awful smile in place.
No, he won't. Because I will never explain my actions to him. It was the only way to keep him safe. But it hurt to know that she could not understand me either.
"You do not either" I spoke, turning away from her. There was little more to be said.
I saw movement to my side, and my tired brain registered it as shrugging.
"It does not matter how I see it. But just…" she trailed off, "just be careful."
Of course it matters. And you were more than clear.
"Careful?" I echoed, feeling resolve settle in my chest. "Careful of what?"
"Of how that might turn out." She replied, and I turned to her, unable to comprehend what she was saying. Was it my abilities she doubted, or my resolve? Or perhaps, she brought into question the depth of my sentiments.
Cold sweat washed over me at the thought, and I struggled to remain calm. I could not lose my temper here.
"Your logic is; break his heart and he lives, right?" asked she, sounding as if she struggled to force her tired brain to work properly. I found a curious lack of compassion at this realization. "Well , sure, usually, I would think this was a nice plan. The thing is… your Patronus changed. Now, I'm just guessing here, but according to my most loveable buffoon, Patronuses don't change just because of an emotional change. If they did, my Patronus would have changed today. It has to be a soul changing emotion. That is very strong magic, one no one can really control. Like love. But not any kind of love. Look, there's a whole book on this, but I never really got the chance to read it with all this hell breaking loose, but… your plan might not work like you want it to."
I rose to my feet, suddenly needing to move. I had come to her precisely because I had hoped to hear these words. Because I had hoped that my best friend might give me hope that somehow I too deserved to love and be loved in return. What a wicked thing hope was.
I was angry, Merlin, I was seething. But whom was I angry with? It wasn't her fault. Arielle was simply being rational. It was mine, for being foolish enough as to allow my heart to govern my actions. I could not afford to make that mistake again.
I walked back to the centre of the room, welcoming the comfort of the darkness around me.
"It will. It must." I replied, for once choosing to explain myself. "I am not like you Arielle. I do not have a choice in the matter. Your mother was pure of blood, and she got disowned for marrying bellow herself. My blood is purer than pure. I am the royalty among royalty. Can you imagine the consequences? I dare not consider them. I have shackles on my wrists that govern my every move. I must give him up. For his sake. Even if it hurts."
My family had not had a drop of muggle blood in eight centuries. We were the oldest and purest family in Britain. Of course, there were others throughout the world, older, purer.
For the briefest moment I wished to change places with Arielle. That muggle blood in her veins set her free.
"That kind of love, Lindsy, doesn't hurt." She replied, and I felt this conversation coming to its end "It kills. At least according to Gryffindor. Like I said, just, please, be careful. For both of your sakes. Now, if you don't mind, can I have another glass? I need it if I am to have any sleep tonight."
I let out a slow, calming breath. If it should kill, let it kill only me.
A flick of my wrist, and the bottle moved from where I had set it, to hover a few inches left of Arielle's hand. I watched as she poured herself another drink and then turned my back to her, walking away.
"Good night Lindsy" I heard her mutter, and I knew she took a rather long sip.
"Good night." I replied, wishing to sleep my worries away.