Severus watched the girl sleep.

His eyes burned with fatigue, his body heavy, as though his limbs were carved from the stone he'd sat under hours ago. He wished he could just fall asleep himself, but he was too busy trying to sort out his thoughts. They flickered through his mind like a kaleidoscope, a dome of many colors, flashing and bending as the night drew on.

When his eyes did close, he saw her tear-streaked face — I don't fit into your Death Eater plans — if you're just going to crawl back to him —

She'd worn that same defiance, that compartmentalized fury that seeped into the air around her, burned gold against whatever flame was near, whether it be the fire or the sun — like when Severus had destroyed Lily's letter. Then — and after — when she'd looked at Dumbledore and told him I won't let him — and it had scared Severus nearly out of his mind, it had driven him to this point.

She had forgiven him as though it was nothing. As though her kindness and grace could extend so far to reach the corners of all he had done — to her, to her mother, to others As if her forgiveness was some transcendent light that could reach him, down in the dark space he haunted, as if he could ever follow her into the light.

Damnable girl. The wretched child —

He'd known that he had no resolve left when it pertained to the girl — it had been a slow, drawn out, jarring realization, like he'd been poisoned over weeks and months. By the time Severus had felt it within him, it had been too late to snuff it out. The desire to cut it out had completely gone from him.

It would never return.

Severus wondered how such a small thing could have so much power. One word — okay — and he'd felt his entire world shift again. It had happened before, but never like — this.

It terrified him. It exhilarated him — made his treacherous heart soar.

The girl stirred in her sleep, muttering something unclear. Severus leaned in closer, trying to catch what she was saying, but it was just incoherent mumbling that dissolved into light snoring. Maybe that was why Granger looked sleep deprived as of late.

His eyes traced the curve of her face. It was an odd thing, how much he could see himself in her now. The eyes had been undeniable, but she had his chin, too.

It took a great deal of strength for Severus to lift his eyes away from the girl and to his desk. The picture of Lily was desperately trying to crane her head higher, to see over the sofa and do as Severus was — watching their daughter sleep. She hadn't seen her in nearly a month.

He thought of taking the Charm off the picture and letting the girl see. She'd like that, Severus supposed, but she'd pity him, and when she'd looked at him — did you love her — did he love her — did he —

He didn't want to think about Lily right now, not when his mind was still reeling from their daughter. A daughter who he — against his better fucking judgment —

Severus Summoned the picture.

Ariel awoke to find herself on Snape's sofa.

Her face was pressed into the front of the cushion, like it had started to eat her and spat her back out halfway through. There was a heavy, velvety soft blanket wrapped around her, and she was sprawled out as though she'd tried to cocoon herself there. Ariel hadn't remembered falling asleep — especially here of all places. Snape had never let her stay overnight during the school year.

Snape had never tried to apologize before, either. She supposed there was a first for everything, but right now, she was mostly disoriented. How the heck had she fallen asleep? She'd been vibrating like a live wire, unable to turn off her brain as Snape marched her back up to the castle, hissing all the while that Sirius Black wouldn't have to try very hard to murder her if she served herself up to him on a silver platter like that again. Ariel had barely been listening, still stuck under the rock, still stuck on a handful of words.

You have become my sole weakness —

All she could recall once they'd returned to Hogwarts was Snape forcing her to eat a meal in a strange sort of silence that had fallen over them like fog, and then she'd waited on the sofa, fidgeting nervously while Snape had gone to fetch some Dreamless Sleep (he'd said she'd gone long enough that some of her wormwood tolerance would've worn off) but she —

Well, she supposed that must've been lights out for her. So much of what had been keeping her up at night felt like water under the bridge, and she could feel the current flowing freely through her now, full, and fierce. It had been exhausting, trying to contain it. Trying to build a dam inside your mind — clog your thoughts and feelings and fears — it had been liberating to let it out.

Ariel sat up and turned to find Snape sunk low in the armchair across from the sofa, one leg crossed over the other and one hand propping up his head, a hand covering his mouth. He looked disheveled, his robes wrinkled, hair unkempt, and dark circles under his eyes.

"What time is it?" Ariel tried to ask, but it came out more like a series of caveman noises.

Snape's face flickered with something that looked a lot like annoyance, but it was… different. "A quarter to six."

"In the morning?"

He gave one stiff nod.

Ariel groaned and pulled the blanket tighter around her. "I don't remember falling asleep," she said, her voice hoarse and scratchy. She cleared it a couple of times, giving Snape a small smile when he Summoned a glass and filled it with water for her from the tip of his wand. She quickly chugged it down and set it on the table.

Snape sat up a little straighter, but his eyes were bottomless, like the black was straining against the dim light of the dungeons. Ariel felt a small shiver pass through her.

"You needed it," he muttered, his index finger rubbing at his temple. "It was a bloody miracle you made it back up to the castle."

Ariel nodded slowly, still feeling groggy. The fire in the hearth had died down to embers, casting an eerie glow throughout the room. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

"No one ever means to fall asleep." he said into his hand. "That's the point of sleeping in the first place."

She made a hmph sort of sound as she stretched. "Did you —"

"Not at all." he drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, as if he wasn't sure what else to do.

Ariel folded her arms across her chest. "Oh — why?"

"I was…" he glanced over to the window and looked out into the murky, greenish-gray light, trailing off.

That was… weird.

She tried to catch his eye again, but Snape seemed lost in thought all of a sudden, as though he hadn't had all night to contemplate whatever it was that was keeping him awake. Ariel fidgeted with her hands and let the silence settle between them — it was comfortable, but she wanted to ask him about why he had finally decided to tell her the truth — and given her the choice as to what she wanted to do with it.

Ariel picked up a piece of lint from the blanket — it was a deep, emerald green, and she noted that it was quite strange that Snape owned something that had actual color in it. "What's wrong?"

Snape slowly looked back to her, a blank expression filling his features. He unfolded himself from the chair and started to pace around the room, stopping in front of the window, resting his hands against it as if he were about to push right through it.

A feeling of dread began to pool in her stomach, like cold water leaking into a warm bath. She opened her mouth to say something and realized she actually had no idea what to say — it felt like everything had been said yesterday, nothing else seemed nearly as important.

"Your Occlumency," Snape's voice was low — raspy — when he finally spoke. "You're to begin lessons with me again, starting immediately."

She blinked. That was… not what she'd been expecting him to say.

"Erm — alright." Ariel crossed her legs. "I might be a little rusty, if I'm being honest."

His fingernails curled against the glass. "I'm aware. You will take it seriously — consider it an independent study, if you will."

Your unique situation does not afford you the opportunity to be lazy —

My sole weakness —

I have no choice —

"I never wasn't taking it seriously!" Ariel bristled. "I just don't understand why you're bringing it up now."

She watched as Snape turned to face her again, his eyes piercing into hers.

"Because," he began, his voice darkening. "I can sense that your emotions are not under control. If we're going to continue with — this," he gestured between them vaguely, almost flippantly, but Ariel's chest filled up with an increasingly familiar warmth. "Then I need to know that you can protect it."

She tried to bite back a snarky comment. "You don't trust me?"

His lip curled. "Not with the current state of — things."

Ariel felt her smarmy attitude flake away like ash in the wind. She was trying very hard not to think about — the Other Thing — the spying. She hated knowing it, now, the thing she couldn't accept, the thing that had stared back at her in the middle of the staff room, Neville trembling just as much as she had been —

"I would never —" Ariel swallowed. "If I had known, I never would have been so careless if I knew it was putting you in danger."

She felt so stupid about it now, telling Professor McGonagall about the Hogsmeade permission slip — challenging Snape in the middle of class — in front of the Slytherins. He'd been acting like a great bloody git, but after Lucius tried to bring Voldemort back from a diary last year, Ariel felt her stomach squirm at the idea of Malfoy saying something — anything — and Lucius —

Snape's face was stony as he interrupted her. "What's done is done." his words cut like ice, and Ariel felt a pit form in her stomach. "I don't believe there is enough to warrant suspicion, but it is imperative that we are careful going forward."

She gave a jerky nod, pulling her knees to her chin. "I can do that."

There was something… oddly comforting about that — about Snape wanting to help Ariel better her Occlumency to protect — not only him — but them. He could've just Obliviated himself again — asked Dumbledore to do it, maybe — or even have Obliviated her — but he hadn't. Snape had been telling the truth. He'd been awful, but he could have betrayed her from the beginning. This moment, this strange little carved out place, where Ariel slept and Snape watched and did not end with him trying to push her away again, meant that he wanted her.

She gave a start when she felt a hand lifting her chin up — she hadn't even heard Snape move, but now he was towering over her, mouth set in a tight line. A ripple of panic went through her at his expression, but she felt it dissipate when the darkness of his eyes softened, like the space between stars.

"It is because I wish to trust you implicitly that you will learn." Snape's voice was low and cold, like an undertow, something furling beneath the surface — something — fierce. "I will not have you this susceptible — it's my responsibility to ensure you are prepared and protected."

Ariel hesitated for a minute.

"Is this — everything — the letter and me trying —" Ariel heard her voice wobble and tried to shove it down, beneath the ripples that seemed to swell within her. "I don't like it, but did — did I bungle the whole thing?"

Snape's hand reached around so that he was cradling the back of her head, forcing her to keep looking at him. She was surprised to see that his lips twitched, almost in amusement, but that was impossible, because Ariel was pretty sure Snape had never so much as smiled before.

"If you had bungled it, Miss Evans, you would know."

She stared up at him, unconvinced. "You decapitated Riddle — and Quirrell — for me."

"Riddle was a mere shadow of the Dark Lord with no links to his current consciousness, and Quirrell was a worm." his thumb swiped across her cheek before his hand pulled away. "The Dark Lord abandoned him. I would do it all again, with or without your involvement."

She bowed her chin and sucked on the inside of her cheek. Something prickled behind her eyes, but the current gripping at her moved the feeling away quickly, because it was beginning to carry something new, something she'd never felt towards Snape before —

"When do you want me to start?" Ariel asked.

"After your detention with," Snape paused, working his jaw, before he spat out the word. "Lupin." only it really sounded like he'd said that fucking arsehole.

She'd forgotten all about that. She frowned. "That'll be pretty late — it doesn't start until after dinner."

"I don't care," his lip curled, and Ariel had the distinct feeling that this particular request had nothing to do with Occlumency and everything to do with Snape's complete and utter loathing of Professor Lupin. Ariel hadn't seen him since the Boggart incident either — ugh. "Don't make me come and find you."

"Okay," she hesitated before craning her head back to look at him again. "on one condition."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "There are no conditions —"

"You don't think you owe me enough to just listen?"

He stilled at that, but his fingers flexed, his eyes flashing as though there were a searchlight deep from within him, trying to find its way to her. He inhaled once, long and slow and deep before his eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment.

"Very well," Snape ground out, like he was chewing on nails. "Spit it out, then."

She scooched to the edge of the sofa, pulling the blanket tightly around her. "No more secrets." Ariel tapped into that feeling inside her, strong and gently wild.

Snape began massaging his forehead, like he had a terrible headache. Ariel almost asked if he did because he hadn't slept all night, but she bit her tongue and waited instead.

"Fine." Snape agreed slowly, like each word was a struggle. His jaw worked and he turned away from her just enough that it felt like a dismissal — but Ariel knew better. "But I reserve the right to withhold certain information when I feel it is necessary."

… He'd said maybe, in Snape-speech.

Well, it was better than nothing.

"I don't like being blindsided." Ariel said, almost under her breath (and still a little drowsy).

Snape's mouth curled into a sneer. "That makes two of us."

Ariel grimaced as she stood up from the sofa, stretching out the kinks in her back. She eyed Snape, who was still rubbing his forehead and looking like he wanted to be anywhere else but there.

"For what it's worth," she rubbed her arms as she let the blanket drop onto the sofa. "It means a lot."

She wandered closer to him, and Snape went still, his hand freezing so that it was covering his eyes. She felt that current — the thing bridging them together — maybe for the first time ever — pulling her closer as she placed her hand over his.

His arm curled around her shoulders. Her head fell against his ribs, listening to his ragged inhale as he went very still.

They stood like that, feeling the water under the bridge, feeling the trickle of time, for quite a while.

Once the girl had gone, Severus invited Dumbledore for an early morning walk.

He did not extend the invitation with as much grace as he would have in the past. It simply consisted of Severus snarling through the Floo that he would be conducting surveillance of the grounds and if Dumbledore cared to join him, he wouldn't stop him. Severus hadn't even waited to hear his response — which he was certain would have been cheerfully accepted, the risible old coot — as he slammed out of his quarters.

Dumbledore was already standing in front of the main entrance when Severus got there, hands folded patiently, as if he'd been there for quite some time. Severus felt a twinge of annoyance at Dumbledore's punctuality. He never appreciated when people were too eager to spend time with him, especially when he was in a foul mood, but he kept his expression neutral and pushed past the old man and through the doors.

Severus began with the castle perimeter, his eyes trained on every corner, every crevice. He knew he'd find nothing, but he'd needed an excuse, and the Dementors would be due back soon. It gave him a sliver of satisfaction to make Dumbledore wait — to wonder — what Severus had to say. This was all his doing, anyway — the girl — the heart is hard to translate it has a language of its own —

More importantly my boy, she is yours —

They walked in silence for a while, the only sounds being their footfalls. Severus took out his anger on some weeds, cutting through them with sharp flicks of his wand as though he were trying to get a clearer view of the exterior, but he'd known he wouldn't find anything. He'd already conducted his own search, and for all of Dumbledore's faults, there was no possible way Black could infiltrate the castle —

"Anything of Black?" Severus asked, his voice sharp as it split through the silence. Black Black Black —

Dumbledore gave him a sidelong glance, studying his face before he answered. "The Muggle woman's claims were regrettably unfounded. I'd imagine Azkaban's guards will be joining us again by nightfall."

I could hear a woman screaming —

Severus tried to shake the memory off, but the tremor in the girl's voice continued to reverberate in his head. He thought instead of the palm of his own hand curling around the base of his wand, imagining the whites of Black's eyes as he pulled his spine out through his throat –

"Unfortunate," Severus muttered. "Yes."

Dumbledore gave him another scrutinizing look. The sun had begun its climb up into the sky, though it was still low enough for long shadows to trail behind them. Severus continued walking, his eyes still fixed ahead. The silence stretched on, broken only by the sound of their footsteps.

Dumbledore looked up at the sky, then, and cleared his throat hesitantly.

"I understand that this is difficult for you," Dumbledore paused, briefly. "For both of you."

Severus stiffened, his jaw clenched. "Leave me out of it."

"I would very much like to," Dumbledore inclined his head. "It would be careless of me, however, to not acknowledge that it is quite clear that you would love nothing more than to join the Dementors in their search."

Severus halted in his tracks, glancing sharply at Dumbledore with narrowed eyes. "Is that what you think?" he asked icily.

Dumbledore met his gaze steadily and replied calmly. "It is clear that you are struggling to come to terms with the reality of the situation, and it has bled over into Ariel's… grappling of certain matters."

He almost asked what Dumbledore meant by that, but he quickly swallowed his retort. He hadn't asked Dumbledore out here for wisdom — he'd done what he'd needed to do with the girl and had righted it. She had accepted the circumstances they'd found themselves under — and would find themselves in sometime in the future.

Perhaps someday soon. The thought haunted the fringes of his nightmares. It was inevitable, Severus knew that, but to think of the girl –

"I assure you," Severus said through gritted teeth, "my feelings towards Black are irrelevant. And it might interest you to know that the girl is not grappling any longer."

The wind rustled the bottom of Dumbledore's robes, a vibrant blue that spilled over his feet like a waterfall. Something spilt out of his eyes in a similar manner, something that made Severus want to start attacking weeds again.

"I see," Dumbledore said, and there it was — that infuriating twinkle beginning to bloom in the depths of his electric blue eyes. "I'm surprised to hear this — pleasantly, of course — but the last time we spoke, you seemed skeptical that Ariel would be receptive."

She deserves so much more —

It saved you —

I thought — you were ashamed —

"She — understands." Severus said, leaning his shoulder against the cold stone of the castle. "She's clearly unhappy about future obligations, but she is aware of the circumstances."

"Not all of them, I hope?"

You can't go back —

I don't fit into your Death Eater plans —

Did you love her?

"No," he murmured. "Only what she needed to know."

The wind spoke louder than the silence did. Dumbledore nodded, almost as though to himself, while Severus slipped the pocket watch into his hand to glance at it. Gryffindor Tower — he'd deposited her there before the other students woke up to find her bed empty. She'd been silent after they'd left his quarters, clearly still digesting all of it, but something hid behind her eyes, something Severus saw peeking out of his own from time to time, in shades of shadow and mist.

"It's for the best," Dumbledore said, looking pensive, but pleased. "I take it that she… appreciated the honesty?"

Severus looked up, shutting the watch with a snap. "I said that she understands. It doesn't mean she's happy about it."

He smiled. "I would be concerned if she was."

"Fucking Christ — stop that."

"Severus —" he paused before sighing. "You did the right thing. It is imperative that she understands what caused you to turn."

"She knows what it will entail," he said tersely. "That doesn't make it any easier on the girl."

Dumbledore looked away for a moment before bringing his gaze back to Severus' face. "You've done the most difficult part — you have opened yourself up to her. To remain quiet or hide away is easy. It takes courage to face who you were —"

Severus snorted in derision and kicked a pebble out of his way.

Dumbledore pursed his lips. "But it also takes courage to admit what you have become."

"And what would that be?" he asked flatly. "A spy? A traitor?"

"No," Dumbledore said firmly. "A father."

Were you a Death Eater?

Dad —

Why did my mother have to Obliviate you?

Did you love her?

It was something —

Severus rolled his eyes. "I would have appreciated this revelation much more had it come three years prior."

Dumbledore shook his head and chuckled. "You weren't ready then."

"That's debatable." the biting wind felt good against Severus' face, scrubbing away the tension that had been so thick in his chest.

Dumbledore smiled softly. "I don't think anything could have prepared you — with or without my intervention. Lily did what she could. What you have done for her —"

"I have done nothing until the Dark Lord is dead," Severus snapped. "Until then, any accolades for my parenting skills — which have consisted of me simply making sure she stays alive — are premature. She could still — was very nearly —" he bit off the rest of the sentence before turning away angrily.

"You have shown her something that she has deemed worthy of keeping." Dumbledore raised his hand, as though he were trying to quell him. "It is touching that you would trust her with this side of you."

"I had little choice in the matter," Severus said, trying to let some venom leak into his voice, to show that he would never forgive Dumbledore for that betrayal, but instead, he exhaled raggedly. "As does she. I will not have her pay for my mistakes."

"It was necessary." he paused before adding: "You must remember that it is her prerogative to use the information she has been given however she wishes — whether that be to accept your past or reject it. As long as she knows the truth, she will be able to make decisions for herself — not swayed by ones made before her."

Severus' brow furrowed. Why?

He wanted to ask him what his motives were — it had to reach beyond love, beyond trying to shelter Miss Evans' resentment twisting into something vengeful, but the question died on his lips before he could utter them. It seemed foolish coming from someone who had just asked for understanding and forgiveness from another person — who had laid himself bare at her feet, unable to keep it to himself any longer — not with that look on her face —

"Trust her, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly. "Nothing is guaranteed."

No — it wasn't. Severus turned so that his back was to the old man, feeling the words weigh him down, like a pressure on him, bending his spine until he was bent down, kneeling on the ground, pretending to look at the grass when he noticed something.

Paw prints — there were no wild dogs in the area, save for Hagrid's mutt —

And the werewolf.

And then the true reason for asking Dumbledore out here — away from the castle, away from the students, away from his daughter — broke over him like the crest of a wave.

He was still angry about the Chamber — about Black, about Lupin — about all of it. He hated that Dumbledore spoke of Miss Evan's safety being paramount only to leave her to fend for herself when she needed it most, but Severus knew he and Dumbledore were matched evenly, now. Severus had set the Dark Lord upon the girl and allowed her to be taken by Quirrell — he could hold contempt in the tattered remains of his heart for Dumbledore knowing he had failed his daughter equally.

They were all to blame.

The difference was that Severus already knew Lupin was to blame as well.

Dumbledore was far too trusting — too willing to see a broken man — too blind to see those shattered pieces cutting so deep that he'd allow a child to be in harm's way. Those pieces refracted back at Severus, making it impossible for him to see what Lupin was — the mild-mannered, plain persona he presented to everyone else was a farce. Legilimency didn't work on werewolves so Severus couldn't get a true gauge, couldn't see past that infuriating mask.

What disturbed Severus above all else was how little he knew about Lupin. He treated Severus as if they were old acquaintances — nothing more — nothing like Potter or Black had — like there was no history there. Sometimes, Severus managed to strike a nerve, but it was only when he was being grossly unfair, which garnered the same reaction from any of the other faculty.

It made Lupin even more dangerous — and tonight, he would be alone with Miss Evans.

"A man sentenced to life in Azkaban should have been fucking guaranteed." Severus said, his breath coming out in quick, shallow pants. "A man does not escape Azkaban by his own volition and live long enough to hunt down a child."

Dumbledore regarded Snape with a steady gaze, his blue eyes sharp with a warning. "Severus —"

"Not without help."

He hadn't inferred it once to Dumbledore — not when Lupin had been hired, not when Lupin had arrived back in August, when he'd shown his daughter literature from the goddamn War — but Severus did now. However, after his discussion with the girl yesterday, Severus had been restless, unable to quell the growing burn behind his ribs. She'd have her detention with Lupin tonight — he'd wouldn't be so fucking stupid as to try anything when they'd know where the girl would be — but the thought made Severus' molars ache.

And if what Severus suspected was true — what all of the Slytherins who had paid even a sliver of attention had suspected — Reg had even inferred it once, but it had been so taboo that even Reg hadn't dared to speak of it directly — then it was a goddamn miracle the girl was still alive. Had Lily been in a similar situation, Severus could not see any limit as to what he would've done for her, had she asked it of him. The thought of Lupin — of Black — of what could have been and might still be —

Dumbledore's face hardened, and something was shining in his eyes like a diamond. "Remus has made the same vow to keep the students safe as you did nearly twelve years ago — he agreed at great personal risk, given the Curse, to ensure Ariel is kept safe."

"Nothing is guaranteed, Headmaster." Severus sneered back, watching in grim delight as Dumbledore's frown deepened. "Or have you forgotten that Potter held Black in the same regard? Black, who Potter held above all else — even her — what would you have told Potter, had they discovered the spy, then? Would you have told him the same thing?"

Dumbledore's eyes bored into Severus', and for a moment, he was sure that the old man could see through him, but then his face softened once again, and he let out a tired sigh.

"Things are different now, Severus," Dumbledore said wearily. "We cannot change the past — Remus has had an egregiously hard life. He knows that he has not been as present or involved — especially after James and Lily's passing — but he knew Black well."

"So did Potter." he bit out.

"James and Lily understood the risks when they joined the Order." Dumbledore's blue eyes flashed, then, like a bolt of lightning, causing something inside of Severus to go very hot.

His eyes met Dumbledore's, and in a moment of clarity, he realized what the old man was implying.

Potter had been willing to risk his own life for that of another. Perhaps, then, it was not so foolish to believe Lupin could as well, but they'd all been fooled — Black — of all of them, who Potter had trusted with his life, with all of their lives —

Because of you, a cold voice whispered from within, sharp and unrelenting. You could have stopped it, you never would have let Black be the thing that kept them safe — you were never afforded it because you killed them — you led the Dark Lord straight to them — you steadied his hand —

"If anything should happen —" Severus whispered.

The silent air stood between until eventually, it gave way.

"It will not come to that." Dumbledore said. There was a profound sadness there that Severus almost didn't see, almost let slip between the cracks, but before he could pin it down, it was gone.

And despite not believing any of it, Severus watched silently as Dumbledore left.

Ariel was sitting quietly on her bed when Hermione came in.

She hadn't even noticed until she heard Hermione make a funny little noise, like she'd started to say something but all that came out was an "oh!"

They stared at each other as though they were doing so over some great expanse. It felt like that — the secrets and promises they'd made to themselves — to others — it had changed something between them.

Ariel had been going through the books on the War — packing them away to return to Professor Lupin tonight – the ones she'd kept hidden from Hermione, who was staring at them now with a mixture of curiosity and concern. Ariel shifted uncomfortably on the bed. She knew Hermione was waiting for an explanation — deserved one — but she didn't know where to start.

Hermione crossed the room over to Ariel, but quickly stopped short, as though she'd hit an invisible wall. She supposed it had to do with the reproachful look on her face that she tried to smother, but she wasn't entirely sure she was ready for company just yet. Ariel's head felt too full, like all of Snape's secrets had taken up the remaining free space.

"Hello," Hermione said, rather primly, when Ariel continued to only stare at her. She wasn't as angry as she had been, but she didn't feel as open to discussing certain matters with Hermione if she wasn't, either.

Ariel bit the inside of her cheek. "Hi,"

Hermione scuffled over to her four-poster, shooing Crookshanks away, who instead, sauntered over to Lavender's bed, settling right on top of her pillows. "I've been looking for you all over."

Ariel tensed. "Maybe I didn't want to be found."

"I covered for you, told the others you were in the infirmary." Hermione let out a sharp breath through her nose. "May I ask where you were?"

It was at this — pretending like Ariel was somehow in the wrong — pretending like Hermione wasn't keeping just as much from her — that Ariel felt herself bristle. "Sure — when you tell me how you're getting to two classes at the same time."

Hermione's expression flickered like a candle, but she kept pressing. "What happened yesterday — doing Defense? You never came back."

Ariel rolled her eyes and pretended to be more interested in her book. She didn't want to deal with Hermione's constant questioning, not when she had bigger things to worry about — like what she was going to tell Professor Lupin during her detention tonight.

"You're right," she said flatly. "I didn't."

"We couldn't find you anywhere —"

"I just wasn't feeling well." Ariel said, smothering the urge to wince — it was a lie, and it was a pretty bad lie. Even if Ariel didn't want to talk about it, Hermione still knew the truth — pretending like she didn't just because Ariel was upset was hard. "Maybe I was in the infirmary."

Hermione definitely wasn't convinced — she started studying Ariel the way she studied Professor McGonagall's blackboard, which she ignored as she forced herself to move her eyes across the pages.

"Is everything okay with you and Professor Snape?" Hermione asked abruptly, causing Ariel's head to snap up. "Were you with him last night?"

Her skin prickled. "What does it matter?"

"There's a mass murderer who's after you — we couldn't find you all evening —"

"Everything is fine." Ariel shot back hotly. "Just like your schedule is fine."

Hermione clasped her hands tightly in front of her, clearly trying to hold her ground. "I already told you, it's all figured out."

"How?" Ariel asked, a little louder than she would've liked. "Hermione, you can't be in two places at once! Your schedule doesn't make sense!"

She was quiet for a moment, her eyes flitting around the room, like the correct answer would turn up on the walls or one of their bedspreads.

"Professor McGonagall helped me," Hermione said finally, and rather reluctantly. "but she's made me swear not to share it with anyone."

"I'm not just 'anyone.'" Ariel shot back, trying to ignore the pang of hurt that shot through her heart. "I'm your best friend."

"I can't, Ariel." Hermione said, almost pleadingly, and she looked genuinely pained. "I promised."

"And I promised too," she slammed the book shut, levitating it back into her trunk.

"I don't think our promises are very similar at all." Hermione said. Her nose quivered like a rabbit's.

"I wouldn't know," Ariel said coldly. "I've never kept a secret from you."

"You are now."

"Am I?" she shot back. "You were there with me when — when I found out. You know where I go when I'm not with you. I can't say the same."

Hermione winced. "I'm not keeping secrets from you because I want to, Ariel. I'm doing it because Professor McGonagall went through a lot of trouble for me. She made me swear — it's got nothing to do whether I trust you or not! It — it wasn't something I was given lightly."

Ariel snorted, the bitterness rising in her throat. "Right — because keeping secrets from your best friend is the best way to protect them."

"You don't understand," Hermione said, her voice pleading now.

"Well, isn't that just fantastic," Ariel said sarcastically. She swung her legs off the bed and stood up, her back to Hermione as she grabbed her rucksack. "No one thinks I can handle the truth of anything — it's not like I've dealt with anything worse, like a bloody basilisk or some psychopath with two faces —"

Hermione looked genuinely hurt, which made Ariel feel ten-thousand times worse, but she was so angry that it didn't matter. She didn't bother to turn back to Hermione. She couldn't handle the pity in her friend's expression that was there too, not when she was feeling so betrayed — again.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and headed for the door, ignoring the nagging worry in the pit of her stomach that she was making a mistake by pushing Hermione away. It quickly dissipated when Hermione spoke again:

"You know," she said quietly. "Don't you? He told you."

Ariel froze. Something passed through her, like a second heartbeat.

She slowly turned around to face Hermione, trying to school her features into something neutral. "Told me what?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"All the books on the War – you were so sad at the start of the school year," Hermione bit her lip – her voice had begun to shake, just slightly. "you were so angry with him the other day in Potions – and the Boggart –"

Hermione looked at her with such grief in her eyes that Ariel wanted to scream. She felt her blood turn to ice, her heart pounding against her chest. There was no way —

"Tell me what, Hermione?" Ariel repeated, but her voice sounded strange, so far away –

"About the Death Eaters," Hermione said, and if Ariel didn't know any better, she could've sworn her lips didn't move. "About You-Know-Who."

For a moment she just stood there, frozen, as if someone had hit the pause button on her life. Then she shook herself free of it and tried to deny it. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, but even to her own ears it sounded weak and unconvincing.

"I thought you knew," Hermione said, tears springing into her eyes. "I thought — your mum mentioned it in her letter. You never talked about it, but Ariel — I thought you had just pretended it didn't happen. You never talked about it —"

Inside of her, a dam burst. The water under the bridge was flooding, filling her up up up –

"I never talked about it because I didn't know!" Ariel said, her voice rising. "How would I have known?"

"She — she said —"

"You think that one little sentence —" her vision had gone blurry, and she couldn't tell if it was the pounding in her skull or the burning behind her eyes – maybe the flood would put it out, maybe it was because of it. "You think out of everything she said —"

And then she understood. Hermione had seen something in those few words — in mum's letter — and assumed Ariel had worked it out too when the truth was that she hadn't even noticed it.

"How long have you known?" Ariel asked, her mouth dry, her words sticking to the back of her teeth.

"Since Christmas of our first year," Hermione said, her voice so quiet, and so, so small. "It — I didn't think — it wasn't my place to talk about it, to —"

"To tell me?" Ariel shouted back, causing Hermione to flinch. "And what about my place in all of this? Don't I deserve to know the truth?"

"Of course you do —"

Ariel wanted to scream, to cry, to do something, but she was paralyzed. Hermione's words echoed in her mind, taunting and cruel, even if she hadn't meant it like that — you never talked about it —

How could she have talked about something she hadn't known?

And there it was again — that sharp pain in her heart — as though a piece of shrapnel had torn through it — she cried out –

"I'm sorry –" Hermione said, reaching a hand towards her. "Ariel —"

It was gone as quickly as it had come, just like last time. It was nothing – had been nothing –

Ariel stormed out of the dormitory, slamming the door behind her.

A/N: I live! After a month... oof.

I shit you not, I rewrote this chapter 4 times. This version is the happy one. I wanted everyone to make nice, but it wasn't happening, so here we are again. Can the children just MAKE UP ALREADY?

Well, actually, that was a pretty big bomb there at the end, so... ugh.

ANYWAY, hope you enjoyed. Next chapter: the REAL return of the plot!

Reviews would be loved and appreciated 3 3 3