CHAPTER 45

Fred's letter in my hand, I sit before the fire in the common room. Most students are in their classes right now, but this N.E.W.T. schedule is pretty phenomenal in terms of how much free time I have. Part of me wishes Daphne would come back, maybe skip her next class to sit in the common room with me, but that's mostly because I don't want to think about Fred right now. Not that I don't like thinking about him, but rather I don't want to think about the lies and secrets between us or the fact that time is running out or the fact that so many people know about my duty before he does.

Despite how much he deserves to know and how I need to be the one to tell him and how that needs to be soon, I simply do not want to.

I mean, I really, really do not want to tell him. Though it'd be better to just suck it up and explain everything to him—he might be forgive me for keeping it a secret so long—I'm afraid, partly because I have to tell him and partly because telling him makes it seem more real, that it's actually approaching and there's nothing anyone can do about it regardless of the kind platitudes so many people say. Fred is the only remaining person on my list of people who I thought I should tell, so speaking it aloud to him, marking off the last person on that list, makes everything more real, more concrete, more inescapable. It basically seals the truth that I cannot escape this before July. The thought sends my stomach roiling. July is just a few short months away—something I do not need to acknowledge ever again.

So, his letter sits in my lap, but I am not writing a reply right now. Fred is so nice and so loving, and having kept this from him for so long is basically a betrayal. I don't want to write him back at all right now because it just all feels like a pack of lies now because I'm keeping such an important thing from him and pretending not to. And I've told so many other people. I'm a terrible person. Every interaction I have with Fred has been tainted with lies because I've been concealing the truth from him. I'm a terrible person.

This is no surprise to me, though. I've always known this to be true. I lie to almost everyone. I killed innocent people. I'm craving a relationship with my mother—a Death Eater. I hate myself.

Yet even as I hate myself, I find myself moving to the table to write a letter, just not to Fred or Zoe. No, I'm writing this letter to my mum. Because if I'm going to be a shitty person, I might as well go all in, you know?

Dear Mum,

I miss you.

I stop there and roll the parchment back up, unable to write this right now without wanting to disappear because, despite my overwhelming desire to be in contact with Bellatrix, I'm afraid of what it might do to me. She wants to spend more time with me—the years she spent in Azkaban, she wishes she could give those to me and let me grow up with her. She admitted all of this to me over the holiday, and while I was unsure if I believed her then, the longer I stay away from her now, the more I want to believe it.

But writing a letter to her feels disgusting, so I stop.

Instead, I make my way up to the dormitory and lie down. What better way to spend my time than to sleep? It's the greatest thing in the world—sleeping when I'm safe from harm. What could possibly harm me inside the Hogwarts castle? Nothing, that's what. So I'm going to relax for a while.

A heavy weight on the foot of my bed wakes me up later, and I open my eyes to see Daphne sitting on my bed, her legs crossed beneath her. "Oh, did I wake you up?" she asks innocently.

I groan, rolling away from her and mumbling into my pillow, "I was napping."

"Oh, were you? My mistake."

A soft laugh escapes me, and I force myself to sit up, groggy, against the headboard. "What time is it?"

"About an hour until dinner."

"Why did you wake me?"

"I was bored. And you've slept enough. Besides, we have to decide what we're going to do in Hogsmeade this weekend."

"Are you joking?"

She adjusts so she can lean against one of the bedposts. "No?"

"Daphne, we can't go to Hogsmeade."

She groans loudly and rests her head against the bedpost. "Damn, I forgot. Those idiotic Gryffindors! Touching things they have no business touching, ruining things for everyone else. It's ridiculous."

An incredulous smile pulls at my lips. "Daphne, Katie Bell was almost murdered. I fail to see how that's her fault."

She stretches her legs out toward me. "I know, I know. I'm just being a petty bitch because I wanted to go to Hogsmeade this weekend. Maybe see Zoe." I want that too, actually. "Maybe go get some sweets because my stash is running low. I don't know, Charlotte. Is it so bad to be a little less than pleased with the Gryffindors because it's always them? And I do mean always. If it's not Harry Potter himself, it's one of his housemates. I just want a year where nothing goes wrong, where nothing strange happens to the Gryffindors that disrupts my Hogwarts year. It's been the same since I got here. And since I'm in Harry's year, I'm never going to escape him."

"You could always come back and teach like you said you want to. Then you'd be at Hogwarts all the time, no worries about some student ruining it for you."

She sighs heavily. "I mean, you're right, but there are times I think about having to deal with children all day, and it puts me off a bit."

"That's the price you pay for being at Hogwarts, I guess, but even the professors have time alone in the evenings and in the staff room."

"What about you? What're you going to do? Still want to be an Obliviator?"

Assuming I live that long? Assuming I'm not taken away by Voldemort and locked away somewhere for the rest of my life? "Thinking about it. I'm pretty good, you know."

"I believe you."

"Good."

"So, it looks like instead of a Hogsmeade trip, we're going to have another day of tutoring the first-years?"

"If you're honestly debating being a professor here at Hogwarts—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll have to get used to helping young students all day."

"Took the words right out of my mouth."

She smiles. "And speaking of those young students, I think we might want to head down to the common room. They were asking about you before I came up here to find you."

"Can't you fall asleep too, and then we can lie here and rest until dinner?"

"As nice as that would be, no. C'mon, get out of bed."

I reluctantly follow her from the dormitory and down to the common room.

Word spreads quickly on the first of March—the day we should have been at Hogsmeade had it not been for Draco's misstep in cursing poor Katie Bell—that Ron has been poisoned. Though I have suspicions about how this might have happened, I'm afraid to speak with Draco about it. He hates the Weasleys, sure, but it's doubtful he ever wanted to almost kill one of them. If he can't bring himself to want to kill Dumbledore, it seems highly unlikely that he would willingly kill another student. Well, maybe that's not true, but with what happened to Katie Bell, he surely didn't want to hurt another innocent person.

Would Dumbledore be considered "innocent"? I doubt it.

Walking to the Great Hall with my friends, I'm slightly surprised by the amount of . . . solemnity in the corridors right now, even from the Slytherins. And I don't mean my Slytherin friends—I mean Slytherins I've never actually spent much time with. While they don't seem particularly upset that it was Ron Weasley who was poisoned, the fact that a student was poisoned within the castle walls seems to have shaken up quite a few others. Who would have poisoned Ron? How did the poison get in the castle to begin with? I know the answers to these questions (I think), but most students don't, and that creates a certain level of anxiety.

Will the Death Eaters make a move on the castle and hurt student bystanders to get to Harry? I don't know the answer to that question, and that makes me nervous. If Draco has worked out the Vanishing Cabinet to sneak the Death Eaters into the castle, who's to stop them from mowing down all students in their path as they try to kill Dumbledore?

I don't think I want to know the answer to that question. It can't possibly be comforting to know what might happen when the Death Eaters descend.

My friends and I enter the Great Hall, and I catch Draco's eye from across the room, but I don't think he truly sees me. He looks utterly horrified and not really alert anymore. Like he's not even really in his body anymore—like he's in some distant, faraway place where none of this can hurt him any longer. I could kick myself for using the Euphoria-Inducing Elixir over the Christmas. Right now, more than ever, Draco could definitely use that particular potion, and Snape wouldn't have time to brew another batch in a few hours. That was so selfish. I wanted a few good days with my mother, which was only possible by spiking her bottle with the potion, and now Draco is suffering because of it. How could I have done that? Why don't I ever put others first? Draco needs me, and I decided to help myself instead.

"I thought Slughorn was a bit off, but poisoning a student?" Daphne says as we take a seat. "Do you really think he had it in him to do that? And why choose Ron Weasley to poison? That doesn't make any sense."

"It doesn't make sense because that can't be what happened," Grant answers logically. "Slughorn isn't evil. In fact, he's harmless."

I raise my eyebrows at this but make no comment. While I don't truly believe Slughorn is harmless—anyone with the connections he has can always be a threat—he would not have purposely poisoned a student, least of all if that student is a close friend of Harry Potter himself. Harry is one of those students who could eventually be a wonderful connection for him, and he wouldn't want to give that up.

I wonder what he'd do if he found out that I am a Lestrange.

"Astoria, you're rather quiet," Christopher suddenly interjects.

His voice startles her, and she looks up from her meal. "Yeah, I'm just . . . I'm concerned. How does a student get poisoned in Hogwarts? What if someone calls for Dumbledore's resignation, or for the school to be closed? We experienced Hogwarts without Dumbledore last year, and I don't think we need to relive that."

"The Weasleys wouldn't do that," I say. At least I hope not. What would I do in this castle if Dumbledore were gone? Sure, I'd have Snape and McGonagall, but Voldemort doesn't fear them. He fears only Dumbledore. I shudder at the thought of the Ministry escorting Dumbledore from Hogwarts. But that's melodramatic because he would most certainly just escape like he did last year. Either way though, it wouldn't do well for any of us if Dumbledore is gone. "And at the current moment, they're the only ones who would have any leverage to do so. They'll understand it was an accident."

"But how certain are we that it was an accident?" Daphne says. "How well do any of us really know Slughorn? Also, what if it wasn't him? What if he was the poison's intended target, and Ron just got unlucky? What if there's a murderer among us, just waiting for the right moment to pounce?"

I feel the blood drain from my face because I am the murderer among them. Not the one who caused this drama with Ron, but another. Another murderer. Would my friends hate me if they knew what I've done?

"There are too many students here to even begin worrying about who might be a murderer among us," Astoria says. "Any of us could be."

"That's a cheery thought," Ella says.

All conversation of Ron's near demise dies quickly after that. It's a task, but we manage to keep conversation much lighter throughout the rest of breakfast. You could almost imagine that Ron wasn't actually almost killed earlier, that he isn't currently in the hospital wing recovering from a poisoning. But I can't forget it—Draco did this, indirectly of course, but he still did it, and he will likely be distraught (unless I've misread him and he actually does want to murder another student, but even if that were the case, I doubt he'd choose Ron Weasley).

We all kind of just continue sitting at the Slytherin table until the food is completely cleared away. Once it's all gone and we run out of excuses to keep sitting there, we stand to leave. As we're heading out of the Great Hall, I begin to separate from my group of friends, promising to meet up with them by the Black Lake in a short while for the tutoring sessions. They all agree and begin to walk away, but Daphne seems reluctant. Instead of voicing whatever her concern is, she leaves with the group.

I make my way over to the hospital wing where I find Harry, Hermione, and Ginny all waiting just outside the double doors, each of them nervously glancing into the room each time the doors open. It's not that I came over here to see Ron. I came over here hoping the Weasleys would all be here, that I might be able to catch just a glimpse of Fred, or perhaps even a small conversation while he's at the castle. That doesn't seem to be my luck right now, however. "How is he?" I ask the three of them when I get close enough.

Ginny looks over and smiles sadly. "Alive, thanks to Harry."

"I don't know what would have happened had I not found a bezoar," Harry says quietly, looking slightly ill.

"Has Madam Pomfrey barred you all from visiting?"

"Until eight, she said," Hermione answers tightly, not removing her eyes from the doors.

That's roughly twenty minutes from now. It might actually be best if I'm not here when the Weasleys arrive. I probably shouldn't be around when they see Ron again; I know I'll feel guilty since I'm fully aware as to how Ron was poisoned. "Well," I say, "I should be heading back to the dungeons—people will begin questioning where I've run off to. Tell Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hello for me."

I can always just come back up here shortly after everyone has calmed down from seeing Ron lying in the hospital bed. Perhaps then my guilt will be much weaker. Then it won't be so rude for me to distract Fred for just a few minutes while I talk with him. Or do I even want to talk with him? Will I just feel worse I haven't told him the truth about what's going to happen to me? My desire to see him in person is kind of overriding my guilt, so I think it'll be fine for me to see him and talk with him. At least for a few minutes.

I'll come back later.

I walk off, but before I've even made it to the staircase, a force grabs me and yanks me into a random room. "I almost killed him, Charlotte!" Draco weeps. "I could have killed him!"

"Draco—"

"And, yeah, they're blood traitors, but no one was supposed to get hurt besides—"

"Draco, calm down! He's alive." Draco places his forehead on my shoulder and tries to breathe. "It's fine, I promise. Ron's alive, and that's all that really matters. Everything is going to be fine." I rub his back gently. "You're fine." I pull his head off my shoulder so that I can look him in the eyes. He seems to be calming down. "What you need to do right now is go down to Snape's office and tell him everything."

"No!"

"He can help you, Draco! You need to let him help you! Things like this won't happen if—"

"I cannot let him do this for me, Charlotte! I have to restore the Malfoy name!"

"You can solve this some other way. You don't have to do this alone."

"I do."

I take a breath. "He took the Unbreakable Vow to protect you. Let him help you."

My cousin shakes his head violently and steps out of my reach. "I can't. I have to do this myself. I have to do this myself. No one is allowed to help me. I have to be the one to do it!"

"And you still can!" I reach toward him. "Snape can just assist you!"

He darts out of the room and does not look back.

If he won't tell Snape everything, I will. I'm sick of all of this. It's too much—it's getting out of hand, and now two innocent students have been almost killed because of Draco's plans. I have to tell Snape everything. If more students are harmed because Draco fucks up the Vanishing Cabinet and—I don't know—blows it up somehow or something, I'll never forgive myself. I hit the wall to let out my frustration. How did I get put into this position? I wanted nothing to do with Voldemort, nothing to do with Draco's attempts to kill Dumbledore, nothing to do with keeping all of these secrets. I agreed to help Draco, not hide everything from everyone.

I'm telling Snape everything. He can decide what to do from there.

As I step out of the room, I see Fred and George turn the corner. All thoughts of Snape flee my mind for a brief moment when I see the two of them. "Fred!" I call, rushing after him and his twin.

They both turn around. "You've heard the news?" Fred asks.

I nod and give him a brief hug. "Yes, I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry and that I'm thinking about you and your family." But right now, I have to think more about my own family. Draco needs help, and his misdeeds need to end. "I wish I could be there for you and your family, but I there's something I have to do, and I don't have time to waste." I kiss his cheek. "But I'll see you soon, yeah?"

"I'll be here all day."

Then I rush away, down to the dungeons, because I cannot let Draco ruin his life with his own stubbornness.

I'm reaching to knock on the office door when something sends a chill down my spine. I glance over my shoulder, but no one is around. My gut tells me not to enter. I stumble away from his door and watch it closely. I've never been afraid to knock on Snape's door before, yet here I am, too fearful to even stand too close. I should leave now and go see Fred and his parents. I should go back to the common room and see all of my friends. I should offer to play Exploding Snap or help them with their Transfiguration homework. I should go see McGonagall and ask about Ron to find out what exactly happened to him. Or I should go hunt down my dear cousin Draco and convince him that his current best course of action is going to Snape for help.

What I should not do is open Snape's door and go inside.

So naturally that's what I do. I rush forward and throw open Snape's office door. And at first, I'm not sure why I was so worried, but as I watch Snape, who sits at his desk peacefully and neither budges nor looks up when I storm in, it becomes clear that he isn't normal. What little color that was once in his face is all but gone, leaving behind a pale and translucent mask of nothing. He stares blankly at his hands, both of which are lying palm-up on his desk, and even as I walk closer, he does not acknowledge me. "Professor?" I ask softly. "Professor, I need to speak with you. It's about Draco."

Very slowly, he looks up at me, but though his eyes meet mine, I know he doesn't truly see me. Those black eyes that usually watch me with spite or anger or pride or annoyance or sometimes even subtle amusement are empty now, as if Severus Snape himself is no longer there. Something is very wrong, and a cold hand grips my heart. "Professor," I whisper. "There's something—"

"Why don't I just kill you now?" he says quietly, almost a plea in his voice.

"What—"

"Why make me do it later? Why don't I go ahead and end it all now?"

"I don't—"

He glances down at the wand on his desk, and before I can stop him, he grabs it. "Avada Kedavra!"

I wait for the flash of green, but it never comes. I hadn't realized I was holding my breath until I release it. Snape looks down at the wand in his hand, confused, before dropping it onto his desk. I want to laugh when I realize that it was actually a quill, but the circumstances actually take all of the humor out of the situation. He just tried to kill me. "Professor," I say. He lowers himself back into his chair and does not look at me again.

Timidly, I take the seat in front of him, unsure why I've even stayed in here instead of running away. "Professor," I whisper again. "Professor, please say something. What's happened?" I know I should leave, should run away because Snape literally just tried killing me, but something does not let me. Something tells me to stay.

Something is wrong with Professor Snape.