When Ariadne got up the next morning, she was all too aware of the empty space beside her. She had been aware of it the entire sleepless night, of Hermione's light breathing to her right and nothing to her left.
Ariadne unzipped herself as quietly as she could, getting to her feet carefully. Not quietly enough, though.
"Where's Harry?" Ron asked sleepily, blinking up at Ariadne as he stretched his arms over his head. "Blimey! Why do you look like that?" He sat up quickly, indicating vaguely towards the direction of his own face.
Awakened by the noise, Hermione opened a single eye. She took a moment to reorient herself with her relatively unfamiliar surroundings before sitting up as well, peering up at Ariadne with concern. "Is everything alright? Have– have you been crying?"
"No," Ariadne denied, swiping at her eyes. Hermione looked unconvinced. "Yes," she corrected with a sigh. "I can't– I've made a mistake. A big one. And I think– I think Harry could really use you lot right about now."
Hermione followed Ariadne's gaze to the furthest point of the Hall, where Harry was being blocked from exiting by the Head Girl. He looked exhausted even from Ariadne's distant vantage point, running a frustrated hand through his messy hair.
"But are you alright?" Hermione asked when she looked back at Ariadne. The usually composed girl was a mess, her sleek hair tangled and smooth skin marred by dark bags under her eyes. But Ariadne only nodded.
"I'm fine," she pasted on a smile, hoping to assuage Hermione's worried stare. And she was, really. She hadn't been the one to learn life changing news about the murder of their parents, after all. Just the one to reveal it. "I reckon those two could use your help getting out of here though," she added, pointing at Ron, who had joined Harry's attempts to be allowed to leave. Penelope Clearwater would not budge. "Go on," she prompted. Ariadne could tell that Ron and Harry's ineptitude was weakening Hermione's resolve. "I'll stay here until Ginny wakes up."
She could feel the Hall's eyes on her as the students began to wake up, hushed whispers reaching her ears one by one. The feeling was familiar, from when she first began school, though they had waned with the support of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. But they were gone now, and as Ariadne sat and waited for Ginny's snores to abate, she began to realize that who she had by her side wouldn't change anything. She would always just be Sirius Black's daughter.
It was Sirius Black's daughter that got stared at as she was escorted on her way to classes in the weeks after the attack. It was Sirius Black's daughter that the paintings shied away from every time she got too close. It was Sirius Black's daughter that Harry avoided every time they passed each other in the Common Room, her throat tightening with each averted glance. And it was Sirius Black's daughter that McGonagall asked to speak with in her office.
"Oh," Ariadne said when she arrived, surprised to find Harry already seated. She shouldn't have been, though. Unfortunately, now that he wanted nothing to do with her, Harry seemed to be everywhere that Ariadne looked. "Hello," she greeted quietly, eyes facing the ground. She looked up briefly to see the look on his face. Nothing. It was utterly blank as held his gaze forward, his clenched jaw the only sign that he may have heard her.
"Have a seat, Miss Black," Professor McGonagall gestured, looking really very stern. Harry shifted away from her as she reached her chair. She'd have felt better if he yelled.
"There is a very serious matter to discuss," said McGonagall, expression solemn. "And it will be very difficult to hear. Sirius Black–"
"–is after me, yes," Harry interjected, tone almost bored. He's anxious to leave, Ariadne realized. He'd rather risk McGonagall's wrath than spend another second next to me. She looked down at her knees.
"I overheard people from the Ministry discussing it," he explained. "I'm fine, really. Can I go now?"
McGonagall looked utterly taken aback, mouth forming a small 'o' before she spoke once more. "Well, I'm glad to hear it, Potter. But this is a matter for both you and Miss Black to hear–"
"Yes," Ariadne cut in, surprising herself with her own daring. McGonagall looked surprised again as well. But if Harry wanted to leave, Ariadne wouldn't force him to sit with her. "Yes, he could be after me too, I know. Amelia Bones already came to speak with me about it."
"Actually," McGonagall coughed. She straightened in her chair before looking Ariadne firmly in the eye. "I have called you in here for a different reason, Miss Black. The Ministry has requested I inform you that your mail will be monitored henceforth, and that it would be best for you to remain at Hogwarts during the winter holidays."
She had certainly been planning on doing that anyways, but why would they–
"To keep an eye on her, you mean," Harry said, blank expression gone for the first time.
Ah. Well, she couldn't deny that it made sense. Ariadne nodded complacently.
But green eyes flashed with irritation. He was angry– angry for her, not at her. Well, he was still angry at her. But it meant that he still cared, at least. Ariadne hadn't been sure. "That's not fair."
"No, Potter, it isn't," McGonagall agreed. "But it's out of my hands, unfortunately. This is a matter far greater than the walls of Hogwarts. I suspect you'll understand, then, why it's for the best that you remove yourself from the Gryffindor Quidditch team. The open field–"
"You can't, Professor!" Ariadne exclaimed now, outraged on Harry's behalf. McGonagall raised a surprised eyebrow.
"Can't I, Miss Black?"
"No," Ariadne shook her head, doubling down on her obstinance. "No, I mean, not if you want a shot at winning the Cup this year. Harry's all the team's got. No one else is even close to good enough to be Reserve."
"I didn't know you were such an avid Quidditch follower, Miss Black," McGonagall commented, and Ariadne almost blushed because she didn't care for Quidditch much at all, really. But she cared for Harry.
"But I would like to see Gryffindor beat Slytherin this year," the professor continued. "Godric knows it's been a long time…"
"Alright," she conceded finally. "With the condition that Madam Hooch be there to monitor your practices. But I expect a Cup out of you, Mr. Potter."
Harry nodded seriously, mouth a determined line. He got up and bid goodbye to McGonagall, who looked taken aback by the coldness that had generated between them.
Though Harry did not look at Ariadne as he left, fast stride keeping him ahead of her, he held the door open for her on the way out.
"She's right you know, Harry," Ariadne called after him. Harry stopped walking but did not turn around. "You shouldn't play. If my dad has anything planned for you, I'd…"
She held her breath as Harry turned to face her, slowly, as though debating whether or not he should. When he finally settled in front of her, his green eyes were blazing. "You'd what? Hear word and then lie to me about it for nearly a year? I don't need your help, Ariadne."
And with that, he spun back around, walking towards the Quidditch pitch to begin his supervised practice. When he was out of sight, Ariadne turned in the opposite direction, walking back to her dorm alone.
Ariadne.
He might as well have said Sirius Black's daughter.
Ariadne was on her way to Charms the next week when she saw Harry and Hermione standing outside of Lupin's classroom. She slowed down but did not stop, careful to avoid Harry's proximity when all he had asked for was space. And space she had given.
He was speaking animatedly to Hermione as she nodded along, looking quiet and thoughtful even when Ron joined them. It wasn't until the two boys walked away, and Hermione turned to face the opposite direction, that her face crumpled before she ran into the nearest girl's toilets.
Ariadne followed.
She waited outside of the door for a moment to allow Hermione a brief reprieve, before knocking in warning.
"Hermione?" Ariadne called quietly as she entered, as though afraid she might scare Hermione off.
Ariadne gasped as something cold passed through her right shoulder.
"She's in there," Myrtle said, now hovering in front of Ariadne and looking absolutely gleeful. Her translucent eyes sparkled with mirth. Myrtle gestured towards a closed stall towards the end of the hall before speaking again, her voice coquettishly high. "She's a mess, the wretched little thing. I wonder what they did to her…"
Walking past Myrtle with an irritated huff, Ariadne found herself standing the last dark green stall.
"Hermione?" she called again.
A small sniffle preceded quiet shuffling before the stall door unlocked with a click.
"Hello, Ariadne," Hermione greeted, eyes red-rimmed and wet. She moved aside to allow Ariadne into the stall before resuming her seat upon the toilet and placing her head in her hands. Ariadne silently crouched down beside Hermione, rubbing her shoulders as she let out a sob that shook her whole body. Wiping at her eyes, Hermione finally looked up.
"Do you think that I'm an insufferable know-it-all?"
That was the last question that Ariadne had expected to hear from Hermione, and she was absolutely furious. "Who said that?" she demanded. If it was Draco, she'd slap him so hard Narcissa wouldn't recognize him.
"Snape." Hermione laughed bitterly. "In class today. And he's not wrong, is he? I really am a know-it-all."
Of course it was Snape. Why was he so miserable? At least his anger at her was somewhat understandable, considering the crimes that her father had committed. But Hermione? She'd never set a foot out of place, not in front of a teacher.
"Hermione, if you weren't a know-it-all then me, Ron, and Harry would probably be dead about a hundred times over. You're the brightest witch at Hogwarts. That's not really something to be ashamed of."
Hermione sniffled once more before lurching forward suddenly, throwing her arms around Ariadne. The younger girl paused, somewhat unused to the feeling, before hugging Hermione back.
"Ron defended me, you know." Hermione said as she pulled away, cracking a watery smile as she wiped the final remnants of tears from her eyes. Ariadne grinned back.
"Ron's smart like that too, sometimes."
The two sat in silence for a moment, Ariadne wondering idly if Flitwick would take points or not for her being so late. Or perhaps she'd be better off skipping altogether. She wasn't too fussed either way, really, when there were much more important things to consider.
"Do you think that you and Harry will make up?" Hermione's quiet voice jarred Ariadne out of her thoughts, voicing the possibilities that Ariadne herself had been too afraid to even consider. She looked at her brown-eyed friend seriously before smiling sadly.
"I don't know," Ariadne admitted. "I kept something from him. Something big. I wouldn't blame him if he never wanted to…" Her voice trailed off, but Hermione understood. She placed a warm hand on Ariadne's knee, waiting until Ariadne lifted her head to face her until she spoke again.
"Everything will be okay," Hermione assured. "Harry, he just– I think you're the last person he ever expected to be able to hurt him. Even if you didn't mean to," she added, seeing the guilt overwhelm Ariadne's face. "But he would never want to lose your friendship. No matter what you've done. And until he's got that through his head, you've got me and Ron. We're not just Harry's friends, you know. We're yours, too."
It was Ariadne's turn to cry, now, with relief this time as she leaned her head over and onto Hermione's shoulder. Hermione had known exactly what to say, as she always did, to remind Ariadne that she was not alone.
As she exited Herbology a few days later, somebody grabbed Ariadne by the arm and shook it excitedly. Astoria. Ariadne waved Ginny off when she indicated that she'd be late to her next class before turning to face the grinning blonde.
"Yes?" Ariadne asked, amused.
"Hufflepuff-Gryffindor is tonight. We have to go together. What do you say?"
"Hufflepuff? I thought Gryffindor was playing Slytherin first."
"Well, yes," Astoria bit her lip. "But you know, Draco's still too hurt to play–" she cut herself off as Ariadne scoffed. "He is!" Astoria insisted. "You should have seen the way he was holding his arm during breakfast today, I can tell he's really– oh alright, he's fine, of course. But now we can sit together without having to fight over who we're supporting."
"I wasn't really planning on going," Ariadne began, but stopped when Astoria frowned.
"You don't want to watch Harry?" she asked, confusion lining her brow.
"I'm not– we're not really speaking, at the moment."
"Oh," Tori was quiet for a moment, observing Ariadne. She seemed to find whatever she was looking for, because she sprung up with a renewed energy. "He'll forgive you," Astoria said confidently, but Ariadne was not so sure. "You're you, after all. And he's Harry. Besides," she added. "You'll regret it when you make up if you didn't go. And, I'm even willing to root for Gryffindor, all for you," Tori finished magnanimously.
"That's quite an offer," Ariadne placed a hand to her heart, sighing in exaggerated appreciation. She tried very hard not to think of Tori's words: when you make up. "How could I say no?" she caved, smiling along with Astoria. "I'll be there."
They met at the entrance just before the game started that night, Astoria bounding up with a red and gold flag in hand. It was at least as good of an effort as Ariadne, who'd only thrown on her scarf before running down.
"Nicked it from a firstie," Astoria explained to a disapproving Ariadne. "What? Honestly you lot have got to learn to stop waving your things about. And I wasn't going to get my own," she rolled her eyes. "Red and gold are a disaster for my complexion. You've got the undertones to pull it off," she reassured "though green might honestly be better."
Astoria stopped talking suddenly, turning beet red as she shoved her flag in her pocket. Which is how Ariadne knew Draco was close by before she could even hear him.
"And that's when my father told Smethwyck that he would be taking controlling interest of the–" he drawled from behind her, a simpering Pansy hanging onto his every word. Astoria scowled at the sight of Pansy, though she schooled her expression as Draco approached. She flashed a small smile, keeping her eyes low as she looked up from beneath her lashes. Draco didn't spare her a second glance, choosing instead to glare at Ariadne before snapping at Pansy to move faster.
"So, when's the wedding?" Ariadne asked Astoria, who glared back in response. "What? No, Tori, I'm serious, I think that went really well! He's really such a romanti– okay, okay, I'll stop!" But Astoria only huffed as she pulled a giggling Ariadne toward the pitch, dragging her through the stands and into the Slytherin section as punishment.
She waved to Ron and Hermione as she got pulled along, the two of them looking amused at her plight while spreading out a poster with the number seven emblazoned onto it in some kind of bright blue flame. Merlin, Hermione was handy with a charm.
They had invited her to join them at the game, of course, but Ariadne really hadn't been planning on going then. Besides, it was Harry's night. If he looked out in the crowd, he deserved to see his friends. And that wasn't her, not anymore.
At once, everyone in the Quidditch pitch seemed to get to their feet, roars growing deafening. Only the Slytherins remained seated, sullen and silent as they cheered for no one. The Hufflepuff and Gryffindor teams must have entered the field.
The rain was pouring down, but no one seemed too bothered. To Ariadne's left, Romilda and Lola were standing with their backs facing the pitch, proudly presenting the back of their robes which had been charmed to display Cedric Diggory's face fading into a yellow heart. So much for House loyalty.
The loudest cheer sounded out as the last player entered the pitch: Harry, who had become Hogwarts' most popular player by virtue of being its most talented. He paid the noise no attention, keeping his head down and focused. It was only when the sounds faded that he began to search the crowd, peering through the rain. Ariadne's breath caught in her throat when his eyes seemed to find hers, but when she lifted her hand in a tentative wave, Harry quickly returned his focus to Oliver Wood. She could feel Astoria's sympathetic gaze as she swallowed.
Almost as soon as both teams took flight, Ariadne watched as Harry was bombarded by a Hufflepuff's bludger that he hadn't been able to see coming. It was impossibly dark that night, and the torrent of rain couldn't be helping, especially from so high up.
"Hermione!" Ariadne shouted, attempting to attract her bushy-haired friend's attention. But she was drowned out by both the jeers of the crowd and the heavy rain, thunder booming in the distance. Astoria gave her a curious look, and though she said nothing, Ariadne felt very foolish for even trying. He doesn't want your help, she reminded herself. He hates you.
But then Harry just barely dodged another bludger, a Gryffindor one this time, and before Ariadne could even really think about what she was doing, she found herself raising her wand slightly, keeping it shielded by her robes.
"Rictumsempra," she whispered. Ariadne watched as Hermione let out a shriek of laughter before looking around to find the caster, confusion clear on her face.
Ariadne waved rapidly in response, laughing at the utterly bewildered look on Ron's face, still confused about Hermione's sudden fit. She waved him over as well, and he quickly began to use his long, freckled arms to shove off students behind him and Hermione, allowing Ariadne to meet them halfway.
"Thanks Ron!" Ariadne yelled, holding her scarf over her head in a futile attempt to block the rain now that she was away from Astoria's umbrella.
He shrugged off the praise. "What's happened?" he asked instead. "I can't remember the last time I saw Hermione laugh like that."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I got hit with a tickling charm, Ron. By Ariadne, I'm guessing. Is everything alright?"
"I was just wondering, you know, know-it-all that you are," Ariadne nudged Hermione in the side with a playful grin that Hermione returned. "Isn't there anything that you could do for Harry? To help him see in the rain?"
Hermione knocked her forehead with the flat of her hand, a reaction comical enough that Ron instinctively glanced at Ariadne and the two choked back a laugh. "Why didn't I think of this earlier?" Hermione muttered, almost to herself, with her eyes still shut tightly. She opened her eyes and looked behind her, where Wood was calling a time out.
"You'd just need to do an Impervious," Hermione said, smiling brightly. "You could do it? I'll go with you." She reached out to grab Ariadne's arm, but Ariadne pulled away.
"I, er, don't think that I should. Don't tell him that it was my idea or anything, alright? Just– anything to help him win. I know how much they've been preparing for this game."
Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Ron caught Ariadne's eye and nudged Hermione down towards the pitch. "Go! Before the time out's over!"
Hermione looked at them both and nodded, running down to Harry with her wand out and ready.
"It's not you, y'know. He just needs time, I reckon." Ron said after Hermione was out of earshot. He looked back at Ariadne, eyes wide and voice understanding. Ariadne nodded, blinking at the uncharacteristic softness of Ron's voice. She was determined not to cry, had been determined not to cry since Halloween. But Ron reached out to give her an awkward pat on the shoulder anyway, and if he could tell the difference between tears and the rain, he was nice enough not to say anything.
A snap of lightning marked Hermione's return to the stands and Harry's return to the sky, so Ariadne nodded goodbye before walking back up the bleachers to her place at Astoria's side.
"What was that about?" Tori peered up at Ariadne from underneath her large umbrella, her dainty features soft and curious.
Ariadne only shrugged in response, gray eyes focused too intently on tracing Harry's movements in the cloudy sky to pay attention to anything else. He was acting oddly, even now that his sight was properly restored for the flying conditions. Harry had begun to fly back towards the middle of the pitch when his broom stopped in its tracks. He was tiny, a hundred yards in the air, but Ariadne could see him hunch over, staring at something intently in the stands. Had he spotted the snitch? Ariadne followed his gaze to the empty right-side of the bleachers. Only they weren't empty.
Illuminated by a flash of lighting, a massive black dog stood motionless at the top of the stands, large head trained on Harry as he moved. As if it knew exactly where she was in the stadium, the dog turned to look at her directly, tilting its head and wagging its tail at the sight of her.
Ariadne vaguely recalled spotting the outline of some kind of giant black animal outside of the Dursley's, but she hadn't gotten a good look before she'd been distracted by the arrival of the Knight Bus. She'd have to ask H–
"Do you see that?" she murmured to Astoria instead, keeping her eyes firmly on the animal.
"What?" Astoria yelled, tearing her eyes away from the match. "See what?"
Harry dropped a few meters in his distraction, refocusing Ariadne's attention to the game. When she looked back at the stands a moment later, the dog was gone.
Harry threw himself against his broom, chasing after Diggory the fastest that she'd ever seen him. Ariadne cheered him on with the other Gryffindors, too proud to stop herself even if she was the last person from whom he'd want support right now. She whooped softly, tightening her scarf around her throat as the air began to get colder. Until suddenly the cold became unbearable and the entire stadium turned eerily silent.
Not again.
Ariadne sat down shakily as the cold began to seep into her very bones and the pressure began to enter her head once more, burning and building until she thought she might die with the weight of it.
There's laughter this time. Mad, cackling laughter, shrieking out throughout the room and through the doorway where Ariadne is hiding. Her mother had told her to run, to hide. That they had been found. But Ariadne had been slow about it, for it was not the first time that her mother had panicked over nothing. She had rolled her eyes but obliged, more for the sake of appeasement than anything else. By nine, she had learned to pick her battles.
Only, Ariadne had hardly made it past the threshold into her room before the door to the flat had burst open. She pressed her back up against the wall, sucked in a breath, strained her ears to listen, and then…
"Ariadne!"
She wrenched her eyes open at the call, taking in a pale faces in front of her. For the first time in her life, Astoria Greengrass was not blushing in Draco's close proximity.
"Ariadne!" Astoria repeated, concern coloring her pallid features. She was crouched down to look at Ariadne directly. Beside her was Draco, who remained standing. He did not look down at Ariadne at all, keeping his chin tilted up and his gaze surveying the other students. Checking if they had noticed the scene that she had caused.
"What was that?" Astoria asked quietly, carding shaking fingers through her own hair. No one, after all, was free from their worst memory. "What– what do you see?"
What did she see?
After the laughter, her mind was blank. There was nothing, nothing besides the laughter, the footsteps, the Obliviate.
But what was missing? What was–
"HARRY!"
Everything seemed to happen at once. Dumbledore was on his feet within seconds, shooting some sort of spell at Harry before turning his wand onto the dementors. Harry slowed, but was still falling from the sky with such speed that his body thudded audibly when it hit the ground, even though Ariadne was miles away.
He didn't get up.
Ariadne got to her feet the same time that Hermione and Ron did, pushing past Astoria in her haste to get to the field. Draco grabbed her arm, gripping tightly in an effort to hold her back, but Ariadne only shook him off.
Fred leaned down next to Harry, pressing an ear to his heart to listen for a pulse. Nearby, George was yelling at Cedric Diggory, whose grin was fading as he stared down at Harry's body, grasp on the snitch loosening.
The dementors were gone by the time Ariadne reached the field, sent away by some silvery light that Dumbledore had expelled, though she'd stopped noticing them from the moment that Harry began to fall. She reached Harry mere moments after Hermione and Ron did, and her stomach felt hollow when she watched Hermione throw her arms around Ron's neck and begin to cry. Ariadne said nothing, reaching Ron's side and kneeling down besides Harry. Though he was ghostly pale, his face was placid. He looked–
"Is he–" began Oliver Wood, hands grasping the side of his neck anxiously. He swallowed before looking up at Madam Hooch. "Is he dead?"
"He's not!" someone screamed, and it wasn't until Ariadne was on her feet and running at Wood that she realized it had been her. "He is not dead!" She pushed him with all her might, and although Wood did not budge, he stared down at her with a sad expression. "He's not!" she insisted, pushing again. She wanted him to say something, anything, to admit that he was wrong. How could he– why would he...? She pushed again. "Take it back!"
Two large hands wrapped around Ariadne's waist, lifting her from the ground and placing her away from Wood. George watched her sympathetically, an uncharacteristically grim look on his usually smiling face. "It's alright," he soothed, and Ariadne realized she must have been a sight to evoke a reaction like this from one of the twins. She searched his face for any sign before she opened her mouth to speak, voice small when she did. "Is he? George?"
George did not respond, looking away towards Madam Hooch instead. He didn't have an answer.
Ariadne shook his hand off her shoulder, making her way towards Harry once more, when a kind voice stopped her in her tracks.
"Harry will be fine, Miss Black," said Dumbledore gravely, arriving from the stands with McGonagall. "But we must get him to the Hospital Wing quickly. Minerva? Inform Poppy of what has occurred, please. And tell Minister Fudge that I wish to speak with him about his dementors, immediately."
Ariadne had never heard Dumbledore so angry.
Professor McGonagall nodded, running back to the school as fast as she possibly could. Dumbledore pulled out his wand once more, pointing it in Harry's direction. He conjured a stretcher before levitating Harry's body onto it, charming Harry to float at a steady pace in front of him.
"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, if you please," Dumbledore summoned, and Ron and Hermione scurried to reach the Headmaster's side. Hermione grabbed Ariadne's hand and gripped it tightly, providing silent comfort even as she worked through her own tears. Ron was silent, though his face was ashen. They were utterly drenched, as though they'd just been swimming. Ariadne imagined that she was the same.
The walk back to school was silent, as had been the eerie stadium, and no one spoke again until Dumbledore approached Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall to discuss their plan of care in hushed tones.
Ariadne took the opportunity to summon a chair using a charm she'd learned back with the Malfoys, before summoning one for Hermione and Ron as well. She planted herself at Harry's side, grabbing one of his cold, clammy hands. It was larger than her own, lightly calloused from holding his broom. Most importantly, it was attached to a wrist with a throbbing pulse.
"When will he wake up?" Ariadne found herself asking, though her voice was rough and nearly soundless. She cleared her throat before asking again.
"Soon, dear," Madam Pomfrey answered, observing the pair's joined hands with sympathy. "It's hard to say in these situations. But rest assured, he will wake up."
Ariadne nodded, eyes prickling with tears. She looked up at Ron and Hermione, who were looking down at their hands and pushing back Harry's hair respectively.
"His broom," Ron said miserably. "He'll be gutted."
Hermione began to cry harder. "How can you think about the broom right now? It could have been Harry!"
"I saw something," Ariadne said suddenly. She needed to be distracted. "In the stands. I know Harry did too. It was an animal of some sort– a dog, I think–"
Hermione sighed as Ron gasped, though she allowed him to speak as she adjusted Harry's blankets. "The Grim, you mean? Blimey, it's got you, too? Well, Hermione, Harry's seen the Grim and nearly fallen to his death. Now do you believe?"
"Please, Ron," Hermione said, exasperated. "I can't do this now. Harry almost died! Who cares about Divination?"
"Who cares?" Ron asked indignantly, brows furrowing in anger. "Who cares? We should! Can't you see–"
"Oi, leave Hermione alone," Fred yelled as he entered the room. Behind him trailed the entirety of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, pale and shaking as they steeled their nerves to visit their Seeker.
Ron rolled his eyes at his older brother's command but obliged, snapping his mouth shut and crossing his arms as he sunk back down in his seat.
"There's the street fighter!" George attempted a smile, but it was stiff. Ariadne cringed at the reminder.
"I should apolo–" Ariadne began, but Fred cut her off.
"No need. Besides, Oliver's not here. Too busy trying to drown himself in the shower, I think."
"You mean you lost?" asked Hermione.
"Yes," answered a trembling Alicia Spinnet. "Diggory caught the snitch. He didn't realize– it was before– he didn't see."
"And his broom?" Ariadne looked at the team, each of whom kept their head down. She had to ask, knew how much Harry's broom meant to him, but no response was answer enough.
"Flitwick's gone to get it," said Angelina Johnson finally. "But there's no chance. It hit the Willow, you see."
Ariadne reached forward and brushed back Harry's hair, offering a silent comfort for the news that he did not yet know. Ron was right– Harry'll be gutted.
Madam Pomfrey walked over, expression stern and hands on her hips. The group quieted immediately upon her arrival. "He'll be waking up within the hour," she said, voice the equivalent of a finger wag. "Keep it down, please."
"He'll be so disappointed," Hermione murmured. "He'll think he's let the team down."
"Can't hurt to have Ariadne Black to wake up to," a fourth-year substitute whispered. "I personally would not mind losing my broom then, at least." George knocked him on the back of the head.
"I won't be here," Ariadne said quietly, dropping Harry's hand and moving to stand. "I should go."
"You can't!" Hermione whisper-yelled, eyes wide as she watched Ariadne. "He'll want you here. He'll want to see you!"
"He won't," Ariadne smiled sadly. "It's okay." She smoothed his hair back one more time, fingers tracing the raised bolt on his forehead. "Let me know how he's doing, alright?"
Ariadne waited until Hermione nodded before pushing past the confused Gryffindor team and heading back to her room. She collapsed into her bed, feeling utterly drained, before finally allowing herself fall asleep to the lost memory of mad laughter and heavy breathing.
"Are you working on the Charms essay? I mean, theoretical Finite Incantatem? I don't even know where to start."
Ariadne threw her bag onto a library chair before sliding into the chair across from Ginny's, having elected to catch up on the homework that she had neglected over the weekend in favor of worrying about Harry. He was fine, of course, and Ariadne received regular updates from Hermione just in case, but Ariadne had had quite the day those few days ago, and decided to give herself time to recuperate.
"Ariadne!" Ginny startled, dropping her quill abruptly and turning faintly pink. She moved to slide the paper she had been working on under her Transfiguration book on the table. "No, er, I was writing a get-well card. For Harry."
"Oh," said Ariadne. She realized she was silent for a moment too long before pasting a smile onto her face. "That's sweet. He'll like that." It was sweet. And Harry would like it. So why did Ariadne feel mildly nauseous when she looked at the card?
Ariadne looked around the room, hoping to catch anything besides Ginny's eye. A small blonde entered the library, and Ariadne was quick to wave her over.
"Astoria!"
Astoria brightened when she found Ariadne was the one calling her, and she ran over to their table quickly. Shoving Ariadne's bag off of the seat, Astoria took its place before primly placing her own bag onto the floor.
"Hey!"
Astoria ignored Ariadne in favor of eyeing Ginny apprehensively. Ginny had stopped writing her card in order to eye Astoria right back. Sensing tension, Ariadne searched for any topic to bring up to distract them.
Literally anything.
"Ginny! Astoria's house is full of the latest muggle technology. More than I'd ever seen, even. Your dad would love it, from what you've told me about him."
"Well, we don't really advertise that," Astoria hissed, looking nervous. Once she saw nothing but curiosity on Ginny's face, however, she softened. The downside of speaking only to Slytherins for too long. "But, er, if you're interested, maybe you could come by some time? You and Ariadne, this Easter?
"Yeah, wicked," Ginny said casually. "That would be fun."
Ariadne worked to keep a smile off of her face to avoid ruining her progress, but she was inwardly very pleased to have arranged for two of her friends to get along with one another. This satisfaction, however, lasted only very shortly.
"So, did you go to see Madam Pomfrey? After, you know–" Astoria asked, looking over Ariadne as if to see any dementor remnants days later. Ginny looked up, concerned.
"Yes," Ariadne half-lied before speaking again to divert their attention. She did technically see Madam Pomfrey, after all. "Yes, and I saw Harry."
"How is he?" Ginny asked, her voice surprisingly small. "I had never seen Fred and George so serious."
"He's fine. I thought– I thought he wouldn't be, but he's fine."
"'Course he's fine!" Astoria interjected dismissively. "He's the Boy-Who-Lived, after all. Daphne swears he's invincible. I think she's got a crush on him, mind you, the way she goes on, but she might be onto something." She lowered her voice to a whisper, as though repeating some salacious gossip. "I heard he got bit by a Basilisk and survived."
"He did," Ariadne confirmed, but Ginny spoke over her.
"A crush?" Ginny's casual tone was very deliberate now, and she did not quite look at Astoria as she urged her to say more.
"Well, yes." Astoria said, furrowing her blonde brows. "You know what it's like, growing up and reading Harry Potter and the Friendly Firedrake and all that. And then to actually go to school with him and he's not bad to look at? He doesn't hold a candle to Draco," Astoria ignored Ginny's appalled Draco Malfoy? before continuing. "But I see the appeal. The books were Daph's favorites, growing up, but I told her that he's already spoken for." She smiled at Ariadne expectantly.
Ariadne felt that her stomach hollow again, though she could not place why. She and Harry had fought over a month ago. Could he really have gotten a girlfriend in that time? She wasn't surprised, really, given how often she'd overheard the girls in her grade whispering about him, but– well, she thought she'd know. It was a reminder that she and Harry aren't friends anymore, that's all. Maybe a lot had changed without her.
"By who?" Ariadne asked finally, and now she was the one who tried to sound casual. Astoria rolled her eyes.
"Oh, come off it," Astoria laughed, turning to Ginny for help. "She must be joking."
Ginny laughed weakly, pasting on a smile before furrowing her brows. "Spoken for how?"
"Oh." Astoria looked suddenly uncomfortable, shifting in her seat before shrewdly deciding to change her approach. "Well, come on Ariadne, there must be someone that you like."
"No," Ariadne said with finality. "No one."
"Someone you find attractive?" Ginny tried now, looking distinctly brighter.
"Of course," Ariadne hissed, a flush rising to her cheeks. Black hair and green eyes flashed quickly in her mind before she firmly squared the thought away. She really did miss him, is all.
"Who?" Astoria pressed. "What's your type? It's not– it's not Draco, is it?" she asked, suddenly horrified at the thought.
As was Aria. "No!" she exclaimed, feeling suddenly awkward. "I don't know, people I've seen around, I guess?"
"Name names!" Ginny demanded. "We can debate."
"Fine," Ariadne gave in. "Cedric Diggory, for one."
"Too right."
"Obviously."
"Blaise Zabini?"
"Agreed," Ginny nodded, but Astoria made a face.
"I don't know!" Ariadne gave up. "There's some people a couple years above? I don't know their names. There was a Ravenclaw a while ago who accused me of helping my dad get into the castle who wasn't too bad looking." Right before I blew up my friendship with Harry. "'Course, he thinks I'm a murderer's accomplice."
"But not Theodore Nott?" Astoria asked curiously. Ginny ooh-ed at the name, but Ariadne made a face this time.
"No. Too smarmy."
Astoria tapped a finger on her chin thoughtfully, surprised given that Nott had received a 10 on Madame Burke's list of social approval. She turned to Ginny with a smirk. "Well, he likes Ariadne," she revealed.
"Ooh," Ginny said once more. "He's cute."
Astoria nodded knowingly. "Remember that odd little Valentine's Day poem that Ariadne received last year? Well, everyone in Slytherin assumed it was Theo who wrote it."
"Really? Everyone in Gryffindor thought that it was Draco."
Astoria gasped. "Draco would never!"
"Hey!" Ariadne started at the insult. But she also was indignant enough over the accusation to agree. "But yes, Draco would never."
"Aha! So, you agree that it was Nott!"
"No! I mean– am I always such a source of gossip?"
"Yes." Ginny and Astoria intoned simultaneously. They looked at one another in surprise before bursting out into giggles, resuming their conspiring at an even more rapid pace than before.
"You should have seen the way that they dueled over her on the train, Ginny, you'd have absolutely–"
"It wasn't like that at all!" Ariadne protested, flushing red when Madame Pince sent an admonishing finger wag her way. "Well, it wasn't!" she repeated towards Ginny, speaking much more quietly this time. Given the knowing look in her brown eyes, however, Ginny remained unconvinced. Ariadne gave up, sighing as she raised her hands in concession.
"Why do they bother with each other anyway?" she asked instead. "If they hate each other so much."
"Merlin's Beard, Ariadne!" Astoria rolled her eyes with exasperation. "It's as though you didn't listen to Madame Burke at all!"
Ariadne rolled her own. "Like you did, Tori. I was with you the whole time. You were more interested in your split-ends than anything Madame Burke had to say."
Astoria gasped in mock-offense, observing her perfect, unsplit hair while Ginny giggled to her right. "Fine," she admitted sheepishly. "But I was raised already knowing all those personal politics, so it's not like I really needed to be paying attention anyway. Draco and Theo are the only male heirs to Sacred Twenty-Eight Houses in their year. There are a couple older ones–Prescott Parkinson is the year above and, Marcus Flint is graduating next year, so the statuses get a bit wonky. But Theo's of comparable social standing to Draco– that's why Draco can't order him about like he does Crabbe and Goyle."
"How stupid," Ginny snorted.
"Quite," agreed Astoria. "But it's the way it is, isn't it? And all three of us– you too Weasley, don't you give me that face, Little Miss Sacred Twenty-Eight– were born into it whether we like it or not. Best to be on top of it, I suppose. At least, that's what mum says."
Ariadne hummed, considering. "Fair enough." She paused. "I still don't want to get betrothed at fourteen though, like Lucius and Narcissa."
Astoria scrunched up her nose. "I wouldn't totally mind, I suppose. My parents were, and they're perfectly happy. I could do it– especially if it was to Draco, of course. Anyone else and I might have to put my foot down."
"Might?" Ginny parroted, making a face. She stuck out her tongue to express her distaste, bursting into laughter when she caught Ariadne's eye.
"Fine by me," Astoria said imperiously. "Two less people to worry about!" She stuck her nose daintily in the air, crossing her arms until Ariadne and Ginny's laughter grew loud enough that she could not help but join in.
On the last Saturday of the term, the third years and above gathered in the Entrance Hall for a final trip to Hogsmeade before school let out for the holidays. Ariadne had been invited to accompany Astoria to the owlery, but she dutifully headed to Professor Lupin's office instead to fulfill her detention.
"Hello," Ariadne primly greeted Lupin after knocking on the door. No matter how gently she entered, he always seemed startled.
"Ah, Ariadne," Lupin dropped his pen in surprise. He picked it up as he stood, oddly flustered, before smoothing down his wrinkled robes. "Come in."
Ariadne obliged, settling down in the worn leather armchair across his desk. Professor Lupin remained standing before shaking his head lightly and grabbing two mugs of tea. He handed one to her before sitting in his own chair, though he did not move to begin conversation. When the silence began to grow uncomfortable, at least to Ariadne, she found herself floundering for something to say.
"I'm pleased you're back," she commented, looking down into her mug. "Y'know, instead of Snape. He really was a horrid sub."
Lupin hummed before taking a sip of his tea. "Yes, I can't imagine that you and Professor Snape would have had an easy relationship at Hogwarts." He shut his eyes as if pained. "Given who your father is."
Ariadne had long suspected that Snape held a particular grievance with her for being a murderer's daughter, and this conversation with Lupin would have confirmed this– if not for what he said next.
"I'd be hard pressed to determine upon whom rests the greater burden for Snape's old boyhood grudges, you or Harry," Lupin continued quietly, as though speaking to himself.
Harry?
"You said, last time, that you knew my mother." Ariadne began slowly, working up the courage to voice her question. But she shook that thought away. This was her only chance. "Did you know my father as well?"
Professor Lupin looked up abruptly, eyes filled with something akin to suspicion before softening. "I thought I did," he said, remembering himself. "A long time ago."
"Do you know– were they in love?"
Ariadne had heard about her mother and she'd heard about her father, but she'd never heard about her mother and her father. This was her chance for answers that no one else was willing or able to provide. Not Narcissa, not Dumbledore, and not her own mother. Not before, and certainly not now.
Lupin was quiet for a long time, so long that Ariadne began to feel uncertain that he'd even heard her at all. But he seemed to be thinking, about what he could and could not tell her, she supposed.
"Your mother was in love with your father for as long as I can remember," he said finally. Slowly, as though testing the words before they came out. "But I don't know if she ever really knew him. None of us did, ultimately." Lupin let out a rueful laugh, bitterness lurking underneath. As nostalgia entered his voice, however, his words seemed increasingly less carefully thought out. Ariadne was glad for it, glad someone could tell her the truth for once.
"She loved him before she even met him," he continued, eyes far off and smile regretful. "He was rather popular at school, you see." Briefly, Ariadne thought of Ginny's crush on Harry, but shook the thought away guiltily. "As for your father, well. Sometimes I thought the only person in the world that Sirius truly cared about was James. He– he loved James more than he even loved himself. I thought so, at least, before–" Lupin cut himself off. He did not clarify who James was, did not even truly realize what he had almost voiced aloud, but he did not need to. Ariadne already knew. Lupin shook his head to get himself back on track, looking at Ariadne to root himself to the present. "When you came along, though– I know he loved you. I can promise you that."
"Thank you, Professor Lupin." Ariadne had one more question, one that she hadn't been able to shake since the day she saw her mother in her Boggart. She hadn't been able to shake it for much longer before that, if she was being honest with herself. "Do you know, by any chance, anything about how my mother died?"
Lupin shifted in discomfort. "All I know is what I heard. Suicide, I thought?"
"Right," she said. "I thought so too."
He opened his mouth once more, and Ariadne braced herself, though for what she did not know. What was it that she even wanted to hear? That she wasn't crazy? That she was?
But she never got the chance to find out.
Before Lupin was able to speak, the doors to his office burst open. Ariadne whipped her head around at the interruption, irrationally upset with whoever ruined her chance to hear whatever it was that Lupin was going to say.
Except it was Ron and Hermione. Ron stood front and center, looking utterly determined, while Hermione stood back, somewhat nervous on having intruded on a Professor without warning. Ron looked at Ariadne with wide eyes before turning his attention to Lupin.
"Listen, Professor Lupin," he began earnestly. "Do you mind if we grab Ariadne? She could do an extra detention to make up for it."
"Excuse me?" Ariadne asked, indignant at the offer on her behalf. She narrowed her eyes at Ron but softened when his own widened at her. He's worried, she realized. It was an expression that she couldn't recall seeing before on Ron's face, really. Last year, when Hermione had been Petrified, Ron's concern had been offset by his determination for action, especially with Harry by his side. But Harry's not here.
Ariadne could vaguely hear Professor Lupin giving permission for her to leave, but she had already begun packing her things anyway. Ron and Hermione were silent as she joined them, exchanging only anxious glances that did nothing to assuage her fears. It was only when the door to Lupin's office closed behind them that Ron finally spoke, leaning in with a whisper even though the hallway was otherwise empty.
"It's Harry."
Hello! It's been a while, so I'm not super proud of this chapter but I really wanted to get something up. I am, however, very excited for the next one, which is already more than halfway complete. Anyways, please read and review and let me know what you think!