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CHAPTER 18

Standing outside the Slytherin Dungeon entrance, muttering to each other, are Daphne and Christopher. Daphne stops talking when she sees me, intense relief flooding her features. "Charlotte!" she exclaims, coming toward me, Christopher on her heels. "Are you all right?"

"What do you mean? Of course I am."

"It just—you were summoned to Snape's office, and you'd seemed kind of down throughout the day, so we thought—we were afraid—we worried—"

"We were afraid something happened with You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters and that's why you were sad," Christopher interjects. "We thought—I don't know—that you were in some serious trouble, like you had done something to warrant punishment. More punishment, I mean, than losing your wand."

I look between the two of them and feel a surge of gratitude. "That's very sweet, but no, I'm fine. I have good news, actually." From my robe pocket I produce my cherry wand and hold it up for them to see. "I got my wand back!"

"How?" Christopher says, smiling widely.

"That's why I was pulled into Snape's office. Word got back to the Dark Lord that I was in danger here without it—long story—and so he agreed to allow me to have it. Can't have me be killed in Hogwarts, can he?"

"That's excellent. That's really excellent, Charlotte. I was worried about how long we'd all have to sneakily watch your back," Daphne says.

"Sneakily? Is that what you'd call anything you lot have done recently? Speaking of, where is everyone?"

"Enjoying the snow," Christopher answers. "We're supposed to meet them after you return."

"We thought it'd be a better idea to have most of them not around in case you returned . . . in a bad way. So Astoria took them down to start the fight, and we're supposed to meet with them after we see you—preferably with you, if you came back not wanting to die."

"You want to go romp around in the cold? Do we have to?"

Daphne slides her arm through mine and begins pulling me along, Christopher walking on the other side of me. Neither seems perturbed at the idea of freezing outside, and their joy is almost infectious. "We're going to enjoy the snow, Charlotte Rodgers, and you're going to enjoy it with us."

A thought occurs to me as we start up the steps. "Can I . . . can I actually meet you out there in a minute?"

"Planning to go hide somewhere and ditch us?" Christopher asks.

"Actually, no. There's someone I need to talk to," I say. "Would either of you know where Pansy is?"

Our small group comes to a sudden halt on the stairs, Daphne and Christopher peering around me to look at one another. "You mean, Pansy as in Pansy Parkinson? Why do you need to—she tried to hurt you," Daphne says, eyes aflame with fury. "She did hurt you."

"I know—I was there. But this is something I need to do, on the advice of a friend."

"What friend would possibly want you to talk to her?"

I shrug. "Can't tell you. I'll meet you outside though. Where is she?"

Daphne eyes me suspiciously. "Last time I saw her, she was in the common room. We'll be by the oak tree at the lake. If you're not down there within thirty minutes of us, I'm coming to search for you. And I will kill her if I need to. So try not to dawdle."

"I do not intend to spend much time talk with her."

Daphne and Christopher continue up the stairs as I go back to the dungeon. What am I even going to say to Pansy? It's not like acknowledging how I messed up her life will put it back the way it was before my arrival at Hogwarts. The closer I get to the Slytherin common room, the least likely this seems to be anything other than a stupid idea. Regardless, trying to at least diminish the hate between us doesn't necessarily sound like a bad idea—not only will it maybe (hopefully) stop her from attacking me again but also we're in the middle of a war, and having enemies inside and outside Hogwarts seems like a bad idea. With that in mind, I push open the door to the common room.

By the fire sits Pansy, her friends gathered around her. Though that complicates the plan, I move forward anyway, walking up to her and clearing my throat. Pansy looks up at me, a mixture of shock and disgust on her face. "Rodgers. What do you want?"

"I . . . actually wanted to talk with you if . . . if you'd be willing."

"Are you serious? What makes you think I'd want to talk with you?"

"I . . . don't know. Curiosity?"

Something flickers through her eyes as she stands to her feet. "All right then."

"Pansy, don't," Crabbe and Goyle both call out while Tracey says, "Are you sure?"

She quietly mutters something to them that causes Crabbe to snigger then smirk at me. Brilliant—I don't need to or want to know what she could have said to him. "Come along then, Rodgers," Pansy says, motioning with her head toward the door. Somehow, I end up following her out of the common room. She glances at me over her shoulder. "Still missing your wand?"

"I won't answer that."

"Because that would require admitting it's been taken, right? And you could never swallow your pride enough to do that."

"But I will say that I do have my wand on my person now, so if you intend to attack me, expect a fight."

"You asked to talk to me, Rodgers."

"I'm aware. I was giving you fair warning that pulling me out of the common room to speak with me won't make it easier for you to attack me and get away with it, if that was your plan."

She rolls eyes at me. "With how Professor Snape seemed not to hate you last year and how you've gone to his office on more than one occasion, I don't think I could feasibly kill you and get away with it. Does he know about the Cruciatus incident?"

"Yes."

We come to a stop in an abandoned corridor. Pansy leans against the wall and crosses her arms. "Figured as much when the Carrows threatened me. Now, what do you want?"

I clear my throat and clasp my hands together in front of me. "Honestly, I'm not even sure what to say or how to go about this. I . . . kind of wanted to apologize. Bury the hatchet, as it were."

She sniggers quietly to herself, a look of triumph in her eyes. "For what, Rodgers? Be specific."

"Whatever I did to upset you when I first got here. Dating Draco, I guess. Anyway—"

"Why are you doing this?"

I shake my head. "I—I'm not quite sure. There's a chance I might die soon, and if I do, I want to go out with a clear conscience. Unfortunately, our interactions remain . . . something I'm not proud of." Her lip turns up in disgust. "And now that I'm saying this aloud, I realize that this was a bad idea and—"

"Who's going to kill you?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Sure it does. I would like to know who to thank."

"All right. Well. I can see this was a waste of time, can't believe I even bothered."

As I move to walk away, she touches my arm, startling me into turning back toward her. "When will you die?"

I clench my jaw, angrier at her question than is logical. "It's unclear." Her eyes narrow, but she seems to accept this answer, considering how little we actually care about each other. "There actually is something else I want to apologize for."

"I'm listening."

"Daphne," I say. Her eyebrows raise. "I know she was your friend before I showed up and ruined everything. And I . . . I'm sorry that I ruined your friendship with her. For the record, I didn't set out to steal her friendship. She chose me because of your disgusting pureblood supremacist ideals." She quickly whips out her wand but only aims it at me for a moment before lowering it. Then she huffs and puts the wand back into her robes. "I know we can never be friends—and I'm not asking that of you. I'm asking that we don't fight anymore, that you don't try to harm me. I've had enough pain, and I don't fancy watching my back while walking around the castle. I need one place in the world to be safe, and so long as you—I cannot be safe until—" I stop and sigh. "I will not hesitate to protect myself within the castle anymore, and if you've spoken to Crabbe, Goyle, the Carrows, or put that brain of yours to use, you'll know that someone out there will prevent me from being locked away for protecting myself against you. But I don't want that. I don't want to fight with you or protect myself from you. I'm tired. And I'm sorry for hurting you when I arrived here—it was unintentional."

"Are you threatening me, Rodgers?"

"No. Kind of? Not really."

"Then I won't threaten you either." She looks down momentarily, then sighs loudly. "For the record, Rodgers, I hope you manage to escape whatever is trying to kill you. I don't like you and never will, but you're a Slytherin, and you shouldn't have to die this young." An actual grin pulls at my lips as she turns and leaves me standing there. Once she disappears around the corner, I sprint to the common room to grab warm clothes, then head out of the dungeons to find my friends.

It doesn't take long, of course, because they're waiting for me right where they said they'd be. Ella waves happily when she sees me, but before I can get all the way over to them, a snowball smashes into my face. The cold stings for a long moment, but I find myself smiling about it. After wiping the leftover snow from my eyes, I catch sight of Jacob doubled over laughing, and without thinking, I wave my wand and send a flurry of snowballs in his direction, hitting him twice before he uses his own wand to create a small wall in front of himself. His laughter echoes around me.

"Did all of you plan to ambush me?" I ask when I get close enough to them.

"We talked about it," Astoria says.

I use my wand to topple the snow-wall onto him but quickly learn that Jacob is not on the other side. How did he manage to get away like that? "But then we realized," Astoria adds, "that teams would be so much more fun."

"What—" Another snowball smacks my face, and a laugh escapes me.

"Charlotte, run!" Ella shouts, and I fall into stride with her, Astoria, and Julia as we abandon the oak tree, dodging snowballs the best we can while our backs are turned.

When we finally get an appropriate distance away, my team and I turn toward the others, none of whom are currently visible. "So whose idea was this?" I ask Astoria.

She smiles. "Well, Daphne and Christopher suggested it when they got back. Apparently, you wanted to speak with Pansy? How'd that go?"

I shrug. "Not terribly, but not well. And honestly, I don't even know why I wanted to speak with her in the first place." From the corner of my eye, I see a snowball flying at us and instinctively blast it with my wand. "She still hates me, but it's fine, I guess. I still don't care that much about her either."

For the next half hour or so, we continue with a snowball fight. No one really wins because no one was keeping any sort of score, but all of us are equally covered in icy snow and freezing by the time it comes to a close. My muscles are stiff as we all walk toward the castle, but my spirits are soaring higher than ever. I don't know how to tell them all how much I appreciate them and their efforts to make me feel better. This is possibly the greatest thing for me right now, this group of friends who seem to appreciate my presence. Other than Severus, of course, who is still the strongest source of happiness in my life.

The heat inside the castle, the change from freezing outside to warm here inside, is almost stifling, and as the feeling comes back to my limbs and fingers, I start stripping off my coat and scarf and trying to keep from complaining about the uncomfortable change in temperature. Once accustomed to the change, everything feels better, and at the suggestion of Jacob, we go into the Great Hall and call for a house-elf to bring us some hot cocoa.

I run my hand through my hair and scrunch my nose. "Merlin, my hair is soaked. Whose idea was this?"

"I take full responsibility for how your hair looks right now," Daphne says. "I suggested a snowball fight."

"Full responsi—does my hair look that bad?" I laugh.

The house-elf arrives with a tray of cups and a pot of hot cocoa, then it vanishes with a loud crack! Jacob begins pouring cups for all of us and passing them around. This has been an unusually great day. I thought all of these were gone by now, and yet, today proved me wrong. It has been phenomenal. "How'd the conversation with Pansy go?" Christopher asks. "Yeah, we told everyone as soon as we could."

"It went just as poorly as you can probably imagine. We're still not on good terms, but it's fine. At least I have a somewhat clear conscience about it, and she's agreed to no longer attack me."

The cocoa now passed around, Jacob and Ella launch into a heated debate about which of the two of them were better at snowball fights. I listen intently, unsure who was truly better because I don't remember who hit the other the most because I had been too busy trying to dodge as much as possible myself.

I've just poured a third cup of cocoa when McGonagall walks into the Great Hall and approaches our table. "Rodgers, I need you to come with me," she says.

Merlin, what have I done now?

I slightly push my coat and scarf toward Daphne. "Could you take this back to the dorm for me?"

"Yeah, of course."

I walk a little behind McGonagall, growing more and more nervous with each step. McGonagall stays silent until she pushes open her office door and tells me to enter. "Have I done something, Professor?" I ask as we both sit down.

She watches me closely, and fear grips my heart in an icy fist. What if she suspects something between me and Severus? A wave of guilt washes over me. Guilt? I've never felt guilty about him before, why am I feeling it now?

"Rodgers, has your schedule for Malfoy Manor changed? Is there something I need to know about?"

My stomach sinks. "I don't know what you mean, Professor."

"Has something changed? Are you still being summoned to the manor?"

"Yes, why?"

"You were in the castle earlier today than normal."

"I feel like you're hinting at something and don't want to ask, Professor. What's going on?"

She glances briefly at the door, her lips dangerously thin. "There is something important I need to ask you."

Almost immediately, my nights and afternoons with Severus flash through my mind again, drawing heat to my face as if McGonagall can read my thoughts. But that's impossible—knowing what that feels like, I would be able to stop her, so obviously this has nothing to do with Severus. She would have no reason to suspect anything at all between us.

"Has—has You-Know-Who . . . Rodgers, you're not pregnant, are you?"

My heart sinks, my mouth goes dry, and already the tears threaten. "Not that I know," I say airily, my breathing quickening. "I don't think so, but—we're running out of time. If-if the Dark Lord isn't—isn't killed by the end of the term—" Nausea rolls over me. "I will have nowhere to hide; I won't be safe." The words weigh me down quickly as I realize how true they are. "I won't be able to come back and he'll—he'll lock me up somewhere to keep me from running. Or he'll—" Azkaban. Ice shoots through my veins. He could send me to Azkaban, only to be called back once every month. My chest caves in, and I cannot catch my breath. And what if I do conceive? I would be unable to tell her or anyone else because there are too many variables now—the most important being the possibility of Severus being the father. And no one can know that ever. What would Dumbledore say to that? He'd be thoroughly upset with the both of us, I'm sure. You're both adults, why should you care what Dumbledore thinks? a voice in the back of my mind asks me.

My breaths remain shallow, and I shut my eyes tightly, trying to regain control. McGonagall might attack Severus if she ever found out, and being in the middle of that fight if she ever finds out that he impregnated a "student" while acting as headmaster . . . Again, why should you care? that pesky voice asks me.

"Rodgers—"

"He'll lock me up and—" And I'll never see Severus again. I start rummaging through my pockets until I find the vial he gave me, then uncork it and drink it in one gulp. "I can't—I can't keep doing this, Professor," I whisper, willing the potion's effects to hold of me, for the deep calm to settle into my bones again.

Despite the potion's efforts, I start sobbing, unable again to catch my breath, and bury my face into my hands. "I—I—I'm so—so scared—I'm so scared."

McGonagall's hand comes to a rest on my shoulder. "It's all right," she coos kindly, crouching down beside me. "It's all right."

I cover her hand with mine and continue crying. "He's going to kill me," I whisper.

McGonagall allows me to remain in her office until the potion completely calms me and I'm able to finally regain control of myself. It takes about half an hour before I feel stable enough to leave her office. She assures me I can return whenever needed and invites me back for tea the following Sunday; then I leave, walking slowly in an attempt to keep my heart rate slow and my mind calm.

I take a long detour to the Owlery in order to send Severus a letter requesting to see him. Life was easier back when I lived at Spinner's End and could simply walk down the stairs to talk to him when I wanted to. Setting up these meetings is tedious and obnoxious, but as it is the only way to safely visit him without risking other students' ire, I will learn to live with it for however long is necessary.

Milo is simply overjoyed to have a visitor, but he's not the owl that should be delivering letters to Severus, just in case someone recognizes him though it seems unlikely. He flutters down to me, hooting shrilly as he nibbles on my ear and perches himself on my shoulder. "Hello. It's so good to see you too. Would you like a cracker?" He accepts the treat and flies away while I lower myself onto the floor against the wall, summon everything needed to write a letter to Severus, and scribble out a quick request for a meeting in his chambers.

Once I've written everything onto the small piece of parchment, I tie it to an owl's leg, give her a cracker, and send her on her way, then make my way to the dungeon.

The sight of the second-years and the Greengrass sisters gathered around the fire greets me when I enter the common room. I watch them for a moment, smiling to myself as they laugh together at something Jacob said. It feels nice to see them all so happy, and though there's no real way to ensure they stay that way, I'd do almost anything to try.

"Hey," I greet them as I take a seat next to Jacob, resting my arm on his shoulder.

"We were just talking about you," he informs me.

"Really? What about me?

"Well, we can't very well tell you that, can we?" he says. "I mean, what would be the point of gossiping if we turned around and told the subject of our gossip what we had been saying?"

"I suppose you have a point. But I think I'll find out soon enough, don't you?"

"You have a high opinion of yourself," Ella says with a smirk.

"Not so much that I have a high opinion of myself but rather I know that Daphne will tell me if I ask nicely later." I wink at her and am surprised by the slight coloring of her cheeks and her abruptly changing the subject to begin complaining about the Carrows, a subject that they all jump onto immediately.

Jacob taps on my leg while the others rant about assignments, and I look over at him. He moves my arm from one shoulder to his other so that my arm is around him. "Are you all right?" he whispers once he's closer to me.

As light-hearted as manageable, I ask, "Am I ever anything less?"

"Sometimes I feel like you are but that you try to hide it. And I really wish you would just break down and let us help you. You don't always have to be strong. No one can ever keep everything together at all times. I mean, I know there are people in your life more suited to help you than us, but still. You're allowed to be human. You're allowed to be an eighteen-year-old girl, Charlotte. You need to know that."

I squeeze him close for a moment. "You're a bright young wizard, you know that?"

He shrugs, unwilling to comment, and we turn our attention to the others as they continue their furious spiels about the Carrow twins. I listen silently to them, almost overwhelmed at how calming it is to be in their presence.