Ronald Bilius Weasley had been looking forward to this Hogsmeade trip for a long time.
The last one was alright, really, except it would have been a whole lot better if his best mate Harry had been able to go. Ariadne too, but she's too young anyways. And Ron liked Hermione well enough, but she could be a bit of a stickler for the rules sometimes. If Harry'd been there, he wouldn't have rejected the idea of sneaking off to investigate the Shrieking Shack.
Not to mention what happened that night really did put a damper on the memory of the day. Sure, Sirius Black had broken in and all, but that was all par for the course when going to school with Harry Potter. The real issue began when Ron woke up the next day to find Ariadne in a puddle of tears and Harry in a foul mood across the room, neither one of them having slept.
And neither one of them had spoken since, as far he knew.
And even that really might not have been so bad, if it wasn't for how Harry'd been acting ever since. Don't get him wrong, Ron considered Ariadne to be one of his best mates, up there with Harry and Hermione. She was a dodgy sort at first, Sirius Black's daughter and Malfoy's cousin and more Ginny's and then Harry's friend than his. But she'd grown on him, 'cos she didn't take herself too seriously and could tell Malfoy to stuff it with just a look. If anyone tried to mess with her, he'd mess with them right back is all he's saying.
But Harry was his best mate. Harry'd gotten offered the golden ticket in the Wizarding World, when Draco Malfoy held out his hand that day on the train. Harry met Ron first, sure, but Draco had a lot more to offer. And not a lot of other wizards would have turned that down.
Harry was the furthest from Malfoy that a person could get in all the ways that counted. But they were similar in a lot of ways too– they were rich, popular at school, and commanded a fair amount of power in society at large. And Harry'd chosen him, with his hand-me-downs and his corned beef. They'd been inseparable ever since. And he'd saved Ron's sister from Voldemort and a Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets.
So yeah, if Harry came up to him one day and told him to cut off his own foot, let alone to stop being friends with someone, he'd do it in a heartbeat.
Only Harry didn't tell him to stop being friends with Ariadne. In fact, Harry didn't tell him what happened at all. He'd just brush it off whenever Ron asked, and pretty soon Ron learned to stop asking.
And that didn't bother Ron either. Harry's allowed to have secrets, and Ron knows not to push. Harry's not like him, didn't have six siblings to needle him every step of the way. Sometimes the best thing for Harry is space, and Ron knows that given enough time, Harry'll work things out with Ariadne. It's Ariadne, after all, and to Harry that's no small thing. So Ron would just leave him to it.
Except, Harry's miserable.
Ron would be the first to admit that he's not the most perceptive of blokes. But he knows Harry, and Harry could barely function without Ariadne. It had been nearly two months since the two fought, and Ron didn't know what Ariadne did, exactly, but he knows that neither one of them is enjoying the fallout. He asked where she was as soon as he woke up after his flying accident, for Merlin's sake. Even his subconscious missed her.
So, Ron's been looking forward to this Hogsmeade for a long time. For the chance to sit down with Hermione and discuss what the bloody hell they're going to do to repair their fractured group, because Ron can't take another day of watching Harry and Ariadne stare at one another during meal times when they think the other isn't looking. It's embarrassing, really.
Only, this was Harry Potter that Ron was dealing with, so he should not have been as surprised as he was when Harry popped up behind him in Honeydukes despite being banned from doing so. And alright, he was a little hurt that Fred and George gave the Marauders Map to Harry and not to him when he was their actual brother, but he understood. They never would have parted with anything that valuable if it wasn't to give to Harry, who sort of inspired that kind of magnanimity in people. Even in Fred and George.
And in him, apparently. Which is why, even when Hermione admitted that she was willing to go to the Shrieking Shack now that Harry was here (and alright, that one hurt a little too), Ron suggested a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks instead. Because even though Ron had wanted to see the Shrieking Shack since Bill's first trip to Hogsmeade ten years ago, and Harry was pretty enthusiastic about wanting to go as well, he could also see Harry shivering as he shoved his hands into his pockets for warmth. He'd forgotten his cloak. And Ron didn't mind missing it, really, 'cos he could always go next term. And he didn't mind getting the chance to chat up Madam Rosmerta, anyways.
Except sitting at their booth in the Three Broomsticks, with Harry's head shoved under the table, Ron really, really wished they had gone to the Shrieking Shack instead.
Because almost as soon as Ron got their drinks from Madam Rosmerta (she called him sweet!), McGonagall, Flitwick, and Hagrid entered the pub to join the Minister of Magic himself for a drink at the table right beside theirs. If Hermione hadn't been so quick with her wand, Harry would've been toast.
After taking a casual sip of butterbeer and placing his hand on Harry's head to keep him down, Ron allowed himself to tune into their conversation.
"I knew Sirius Black as a boy at Hogwarts," Madam Rosmerta was saying, evidently having joined them. "And if you told me then that he'd join the Dark Side, I'd have laughed in your face."
Huh. Ron didn't pay much attention to that Sacred Twenty-Eight stuff, but even he knew that the Black family were notoriously dark wizards. Not a light one among them, even. So why would that be a surprise?
"And yet you don't know the worst of it," Fudge said gravely, lowering his voice as he readied to tell a secret. "Worse, even, than killing all those people."
"You remember him from Hogwarts as well as I, Rosmerta," Professor McGonagall interjected lowly. "You must remember who his best friend was."
"Of course," Madame Rosmerta smiled, eyes bright at some long lost memory. "Never saw one without the other, did you? They used to come in here every trip and try and swap out their butterbeer for Firewhisky. Oh, they made me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter."
Ron spluttered on his butterbeer. Oh, bollocks. He wiped himself off before ducking down to look at Harry, make sure that he wouldn't yell or make a noise or anything like that. Only Harry's face was inscrutable. There was no discernible surprise, or anger, or anything to indicate he'd even heard that revelation. Ron gestured to Hermione helplessly.
"Precisely," McGonagall affirmed. "Two of the best students I'd ever had. Exceptionally bright, besides all the troublemaking. But even that was impressively done, even if I'd eat my hat before admitting it to them at the time."
"You'd have thought the two of them were brothers!" chimed in Flitwick. "Inseparable!"
"They were," Fudge agreed. "Potter trusted Black beyond all others. He was the best man when Lily and James got married. They even named him godfather to Harry, who has no idea, of course. And it was that trust that killed them."
"How?" Rosmerta breathed.
"Lily and James were under a Fidelius done by Dumbledore himself. Powerful enough that You-Know-Who could've been outside their door for years and not known they were there. And James told Dumbledore that Black would die before exposing them, would go into hiding himself to keep them safe."
"Dumbledore suspected that someone close to the Potters might have gone Dark already, and offered to be the Secret Keeper himself," McGonagall resumed the storytelling. "But Dumbledore had a dangerous role in the war, of course, and Potter insisted on using Black. And barely a week after the charm was performed…"
"Black betrayed them," Fudge finished.
"I saw 'im that night!" Hagrid began to wail. "Filthy stinkin' traitor! He tried ter take Harry from me, said 'e was his godfather and that he'd look after 'im an' take 'im home to little Aria. But I was on strict orders from Dumbledore, smart man, an' so Black gave me his motorbike for safe travel. Prob'ly hoped tha' it would do the two of us in. His best frien's son!"
"And that's when he killed that fat little boy who always followed them around Hogwarts?" Rosmerta asked.
"Yes," McGonagall confirmed. "Poor little Peter Pettigrew. Only a finger left behind…" She sounded teary-eyed.
"Best friends…" said Rosmerta incredulously. "You'd never have seen them apart. And to betray them like that? Potter would never have suspected."
"No," Fudge agreed. "Which is why I was a bit unnerved to find Harry with young Ariadne Black in Diagon Alley over the summer. They'd run away together, it seemed, and were worryingly familiar."
"Ah," said Flitwick. "Yes, James's son and Sirius's daughter are just as inseparable. I see them around the castle, sometimes, and I almost forget where I am. The two of them reborn, I should say."
"I'll have to disagree with you there, Filius. I'd say," McGonagall leaned in conspiratorially, "that they're much more like Lily and James. They're one another's greatest champions and they haven't the faintest idea about any of it yet. Poppy told me that Ariadne spent the whole night by his bedside after Harry's fall at the Quidditch match, only to sneak off before he could see her in the morning. Lily did the same for James, as I recall, after he got hit in the head with a bludger and before they began dating back in their fifth year. And don't you forget that it was Harry who charged into the Chamber when he heard Ariadne had been taken. Foolish boy," McGonagall chuckled fondly. "Exactly what his father would have done."
It wasn't until long after the teachers had left that Harry got out from under the table, his face as indiscernible as ever. He looked at neither Ron nor Hermione, instead staring blankly at his empty tankard of butterbeer.
"Harry?" Ron tried, before looking to Hermione for help. She was better with this kind of thing, anyways.
"Harry? Are you alright?" Hermione placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, and although he didn't acknowledge it, he didn't shake it off. That's good, right?
Harry said nothing for a few long beats before finally opening his mouth to say the last thing that Ron expected.
"I knew."
"You what?" Ron asked, unsure if he'd heard properly.
Harry lifted his head for the first time to look at him. "I knew," he repeated. "I didn't– I didn't know all of the details, but I knew."
"Oh, Harry," Hermione said understandingly, her eyes welling with unshed tears. This happened sometimes, that Hermione caught onto something quicker than Ron did, but she'd always help him get there eventually. He furrowed a confused red brow at her.
"The fight," she mouthed over Harry's head.
Ah.
Well, yeah, Ron could see how information like that might obstruct a friendship. But how did–?
"She told me," Harry said, voice still devoid of emotion. Harry was good like that, about knowing what Ron was thinking before he even did. Like he said, best mates. "It took her a long time, didn't it? But she told me."
Ron knew Harry wasn't asking him, really, but he nodded along anyway. Harry was looking worryingly pale, even given the fact that it was the dead of winter. Ron patted him on the shoulder.
"Let's get back to school, mate. It's cold in here, isn't it?"
Harry didn't move, not until Ron grabbed him under the armpit and all but dragged him out of the seat. Hermione stood behind nervously before lurching forward suddenly, whipping off her own scarf to wrap it around Harry. She then placed her hand on his back so as to push him forward, and Harry allowed the two of them to silently drag him back to Hogwarts.
But he was silent through dinner, too. It was times like these that Ron worried if the Sorting Hat had been a little barmy that day it put him in Gryffindor, because if he couldn't work up the courage to talk to his best friend, then how brave could he really be? And when Ron finally did resolve himself to sit Harry down in the Common Room and discuss what they'd heard, do anything to wipe that blank look off of Harry's face, Fred and George let off half a dozen Dungbombs and he lost Harry to the mayhem.
"What are we going to do, Ron?" asked Hermione from his side, voice still a little shaky. She'd been putting on a brave face for Harry, but Ron could tell she was scared. It wasn't often that she looked to him like that, like she didn't know what to do. It could be scary, sometimes, when even Hermione didn't know the answer. But other times, when she looked to him like he might, Ron felt like he could carry the world.
"I'll go talk to him," Ron said heroically, puffing up his chest and nodding to himself. He turned his back to Hermione and headed up the stairs to his dormitory, where he knew Harry would be. Ron pressed his ear against the door before turning the handle slowly, granting Harry enough time to know someone was coming. He heard vague noises of paper shuffling, but when Ron finally did open the door, the lights were off and Harry was lying in his bed, sleeping.
Not really, of course. Ron had been sleeping in the bed next to Harry every night for more than two years, so he of all people knew that Harry didn't sleep nearly that still. But Harry wanted him to think that he'd been sleeping, which meant that Harry didn't want to talk.
Or that Harry didn't want to talk to him.
Ron closed the door slowly before rushing downstairs, zooming past Fred and George (What's the rush, Ronniekins?) before grabbing Hermione by the arm. She let out a small gasp, which Ron ignored.
Ron stood on his tip toes for extra height and scanned the room for the dark-haired girl. He spotted Ginny's small red head instead, speaking animatedly to a blonde boy that Ron vowed to check in on later.
"Oi, Gin! Where's Ariadne? Have you seen her?"
Ginny and the blonde boy both turned to face him. Only Colin Creevey. Phew.
"She's got detention with Lupin, remember? Why, what's going on?"
Ron didn't answer, instead pulling Hermione along with him as he ran over to Professor Lupin's office. He opened the door without knocking, huffing with exertion as he did.
"Ron!" Hermione admonished.
Ariadne and Professor Lupin were standing far apart, but both were looking at one another intently. Ron felt extremely silly, suddenly, like he'd intruded on something very important, but then he shook his head at the thought. Harry was important too.
"Hello," Ron said stupidly, taking in Ariadne and Lupin's bewildered faces before clearing his throat. "Listen, Professor Lupin, do you mind if we grab Ariadne? She could do an extra detention to make up for it."
"Excuse me?" Ariadne asked, narrowing her icy eyes at Ron.
"It's important," Hermione tacked on before retreating behind Ron, shocking herself at her willingness to barge in on a Professor this way.
"It's fine," Professor Lupin chuckled weakly. "My friends would have me make excuses to get them out of detention too, back in my Hogwarts days. I'm afraid you've come a bit late, though, as Ariadne and I were finishing up here, anyways."
Professor Lupin must've been cool, Ron thought, but he said nothing until Ariadne joined him and Hermione, looking at them with utter confusion. He leaned in as soon as the door to Lupin's office closed behind them.
"It's Harry."
Ariadne had never been up to the boys' dormitory before, and she looked around furtively before reminding herself she wasn't doing anything illicit. But she nervously bit her lip before knocking on Harry's door anyway, though that was driven more by the prospect of seeing Harry than anything else.
She had tried to tell Ron that Harry, as Ron well knew, wanted absolutely nothing to do with her, but Ron was insistent that she be the one to talk to him in his room.
"You're the only one," he had said. "Even if Harry doesn't know it himself."
He wouldn't say what, exactly, she needed to talk to Harry about, only that something had happened and both he and Hermione were at a loss about what to do next. So here she was, standing outside the boys' dorm, fist hovering in the air for more than a minute now. She knocked, opened the door slowly, and
Harry was asleep.
Ariadne looked at him for a moment, the light emanating from behind her the only source entering the otherwise pitch-black room. He was asleep. She should let him sleep.
"Harry?" she called out softly instead. She had come this far, and it had been so, so, long since they'd last really spoke. She missed her best friend, even if he didn't miss her.
But her best friend was asleep, so Ariadne stepped out of the room and closed the door softly behind her. He probably needs it. She, on the other hand, should go back to the Common Room and join the end of term celebrations, and maybe catch up with Ron and Hermione while she was at it. She should try and be happy, try and move on. But she couldn't. She didn't want to celebrate without Harry. So Ariadne's feet remained firmly planted on the ground, and she was working up the courage to leave.
While lost in her own misery, Ariadne missed the shuffling inside the dorm. It thus came as a complete surprise when the door opened behind her while Harry, hair-sleep mussed and without his glasses, stood behind it.
"Aria?" he asked, squinting a little. She nodded.
"Yes," she said quietly, remembering that Harry was blind as a bat.
He opened the door further. "Come in."
Harry sat back down on his bed and Ariadne awkwardly hovered in the middle of his room for a moment, looking around. It wasn't different from the girl's dorm at all, and Harry's bed, like hers, was the one at the center facing the door. She could feel Harry's eyes on her, only to look away when she looked back at him, so Ariadne steeled her nerves and joined him.
She picked up a thick book at the foot of the bed and took its place, setting the book on her lap once she sat.
"May I?" she asked the still-silent Harry, who by now had put his glasses back on, and he nodded. Ariadne carded through the book, page by page of wonderful photos of the young and smiling Potter family. Photos of James and Lily smiling at Hogwarts, beautiful and bright and completely unprepared for what the world would throw at them next. Photos of them smiling lovingly at their baby, whose black hair and green eyes already identified him as his parents in miniature. Photos of their wedding, where Lily Potter happily teared up in her wedding dress while James shared a laugh with–
Oh.
"Harry–" Ariadne began, but Harry beat her to it.
"He was my godfather," Harry said, voice cracking on the final word.
Ariadne couldn't bear it any longer. She leaned forward from her place on his bed and reached for his neck, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. "I'm sorry, Harry," she whispered.
Harry waited a moment before wrapping his own arms tightly around her waist. "I'm sorry too."
Ariadne began to cry in earnest into her shoulder, and Harry pulled her closer, pressing his face wetly into her hair. "I'm sorry," she repeated, for she had nothing else to say.
They stayed like that for a while, until their tears had dried up and there were no more sorries to give. It was only then that Ariadne scooted up next to Harry on the bed, pulling herself into a crossed legged position and close enough that her thigh was touching his. She leaned forward and carefully grabbed the photo album, placing it over the duvet so that they could look at it together.
"Number Seven," Harry said, pointing to a photo of his father smiling on the pitch, something short of awe in his tone. Potter 7 was emblazoned on his uniform. "He's number seven, just like me. McGonagall must've done it on purpose."
Ariadne smiled, happy that Harry was happy, but it fell when she saw the handsome face playing number eleven. Sirius Black strikes again. She flipped the page.
"She's beautiful," Ariadne observed of Harry's mother, her hair a warm red and her eyes a striking green. She was holding up a Prefect's badge proudly and smiling, a familiar face doing the same next to her, albeit a bit less enthusiastically. "Professor Lupin!"
"They were Prefects together," Harry noted. "I didn't know you could become Head Boy without being a Prefect. My dad was Head Boy," he explained when Ariadne looked at him curiously. "And my mum Head Girl."
Ariadne nodded and Harry turned the page once more, again and again until
"Oh," Ariadne breathed. Harry turned to her, eyes questioning.
"My mother. And yours. And you and me, it would appear."
Lily Potter and Selena Fenwick stood side by side, with tired eyes but beaming smiles. Both were strikingly beautiful, albeit in different ways. They were both tall, of approximately equal height, but Selena was all sharp lines and messy blonde hair to Lily's soft warmth and smooth auburn. They were each holding a baby in their arms, the larger one in Lily's arms reaching out towards the smaller, grasping at nothing. And they were both impossibly young. Painfully young. But they were their mums.
"Oh," Harry echoed, peering closer at the photo. "So that's your mum? I can see it."
"Thanks," Ariadne replied absent mindedly. She hesitated for a moment, looking at the side of Harry's face before speaking again. "She's my Boggart."
"What?" Harry asked, whipping his head toward her. She had spoken quietly, after all, and he wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly.
"She's my Boggart," Ariadne repeated, meeting his concerned gaze. "Or her body is, at least. I don't know why, really. She– she killed herself, when I was ten. That's why I had to go and live with the Malfoys. But it's been a long time, and I don't remember much about it, really. I don't know why I'm so afraid of it."
Harry was silent as he allowed Ariadne to speak but placed a hand atop hers in comfort. "I think I'm missing something," Ariadne said abruptly, voicing aloud what she had held in for so long. She had needed Harry. "I think that I was Obliviated."
Harry was silent for a moment, making her feel as though she was holding her breath until he spoke again. "We'll figure it out," Harry promised, and Ariadne believed him.
His words had been an instant comfort, and Ariadne, warm with Harry beside her, found herself lulled into slumber in the pleasant silence of Harry flipping pages.
It was when she was nearly asleep that Harry spoke once more.
"I want to kill him, Aria," Harry whispered brokenly, voice strained with the struggle to contain the heat of his rage. He did not clarify who he was talking about. He didn't need to.
"We'll figure it out," Ariadne echoed his earlier words quietly. And she was confident that they would, for they had no other choice.
Ariadne woke up the next morning to the feeling of someone's eyes on her. She reached her arm out to pat the empty bed next to her before blinking her own open hazily.
"Seamus!" she screamed, staring up at the freckled face peeking through the bed's curtains. Ariadne looked down at herself and saw her uniform still on, robes and all, before glancing back at Seamus once more. Bloody hell, she cursed herself. When had she fallen asleep?
"Harry, mate," he smirked. "You've gotten much prettier overnight. New shampoo?"
"Funny," Ariadne intoned flatly, even though it actually was– though she'd never actually let Seamus know. She twisted her long hair into a bun, but upon observing her bare wrists, she grabbed her wand from the bedside table and stuck it in. After standing, Ariadne took an extra second to dust herself off and smooth out any wrinkles, allowing time for her blush to recede before facing the still-staring Seamus. "Do you know where Harry might be?"
Seamus laughed before seating himself onto his own bed. "Reckon you'd know the answer to that better than I would," he grinned, gesturing to the unmade bed. Ariadne rolled her eyes, holding up two fingers as she walked out. She could hear his laughter ring out even after the door was closed.
Ariadne crept down the stairs as noiselessly as possible, hoping to slip into her dorm before anyone noticed she was gone. But she had no idea what time it was. Given the fact that Harry had risen before her, she may have already been too late.
Just the thought of Harry made Ariadne smile. Her head felt lighter, the sun felt brighter, and she had slept well for the first time in ages. They were friends again.
By the time she'd reached the last step, however, her smile dropped. She could hear Ron, Hermione, and Harry bickering in the Common Room. Ariadne stepped forward, and though she did not hide, she did not announce her presence either.
Ron was sitting on an armchair, looking between a standing Harry and Hermione as though they were a tennis match. Harry was yelling now as Hermione stood back with her arms crossed.
"–every time a Dementor gets near me? I can hear my mum screaming. She's pleading with Voldemort, begging him not to kill me. To kill her instead. And if you'd heard your mum screaming like that, right before she gets killed, you'd want to do something about it too. And if you found out that it was her friend that sent Voldemort after her–"
"But you can't put yourself in danger, Harry. Not for Black. Your– your mum and dad wouldn't want you to get hurt, Harry! They wouldn't want you to go looking for him."
"Well, I'll never know what they'd have wanted, will I? I've never spoken to them, thanks to Black."
Ron and Hermione fell silent at Harry's frank reminder. The reminder of what, exactly, her father had done felt like a slap across the face. Harry'd never have said it if she was around, too concerned with hurting her. But Ariadne was glad for the honesty, glad that he had Ron and Hermione to open up to. Who he didn't have to worry about wounding with their father's crimes.
"Ariadne!" Hermione exclaimed, spotting her first from her hiding spot on the stairs.
Harry whipped around at the sound of her voice, tension leaving his jaw instantly. "Aria!" he exclaimed, looking worried over how much she'd heard. "I didn't– I thought you were asleep. I didn't want to wake you." His green eyes were apologetic, but they did not need to be.
Ariadne was glad he hadn't, because he'd never have said what he'd said if she had been there. And he needed to have said it.
"I know," she said, waving his silent apology away. "Seamus was a bit of a nasty wake up call though," she joked, smiling as Ron laughed at the sheepish expression on Harry's face.
Hermione ran up and gave Ariadne a large hug before moving on to Harry to do the same, Ron rolling his eyes all the while. "I'm so pleased," she said happily, pulling away from Harry. "It was only a matter of time, of course, but still." Her pleasantries turned admonishing as she placed her hands on her hips. "But it was very irresponsible of you to have fallen asleep in Harry's bed." Ariadne and Harry both reddened at the acknowledgment as Hermione turned to face Harry. "And Harry!" she added. "You should have woken her up! What if one of her roommates thought that Sirius Black had gotten to her!"
"Lay off them, Hermione," Ron cut in (over Harry's defensive She was sleeping!). "I'm just glad we can be done with all their moping." Ariadne's blush deepened such that she was sure that it'd never go away. "Now let's go to Hagrid's," he continued in an obvious attempt to distract Harry. "We haven't visited him in ages!"
"Harry's not supposed to leave the castle, Ron–"
"Yeah," interjected Harry. "Yeah, let's. I've got a few questions I've got to ask him." He furrowed his brows, looking angry once more.
"You go on without me," Ariadne said, looking down at her wrinkled robes. She'd even slept with her tie on, for Merlin's sake. "I'd better change. And make sure my suite knows Sirius Black hasn't gotten me," she added, looking at Hermione with a smile.
She waited for the three of them to leave before walking quietly up the stairs back to her room, hoping beyond hope everyone was still asleep. But she was rarely that lucky. Instead, all four girls were up and packing for the trip back home.
"Ariadne!" Ginny exclaimed, taking in her uncharacteristically wrinkled appearance. She didn't look too worried, though Ariadne hadn't really expected Ginny to be. "Where were you?"
"Oh," Ariadne flushed. She'd been doing a lot of that this morning. "I came in late and got up early to do work."
"That's a lie," Romilda said casually from her own bed, where she'd been listening in. She did not even look up as she spoke.
"It is not!" Ariadne said hotly, forgetting that it was indeed a lie in her own irritation at the girl's intrusion.
"It is," Romilda said, looking up now and raising her thick brows. "You didn't come in at all last night. I'm a very light sleeper. And you look happier than you've looked in over a month. So the question is…" she smirked, mockingly tapping her chin. "Where were you? And why are you lying?"
"Maybe you're not as light of a sleeper as you think you are," Ariadne retorted. She did not address the comment about her appearance, because she was happier than she'd been in over a month. She was just surprised that Romilda noticed.
Romilda scoffed, opening her mouth to respond. Before she could however, Ginny began to laugh.
"Alright, Ariadne, Romilda, enough out of both of you. So Ariadne didn't sleep here last night. She's entitled to her secrets." Ginny sent Ariadne a mischievous wink, and she smiled weakly in return.
"Common Room?" Ginny mouthed to her when Romilda wasn't looking. Ariadne nodded, ignoring the slight twinge of guilt that rose as she did.
Ariadne did not know why she was lying to Ginny, only that last night with Harry, while wholly innocent, felt extremely personal. Not to mention that it would take far longer to explain than it was worth, and Ariadne couldn't bear the idea of Ginny being hurt over nothing.
"I've left your gift in your trunk," Ariadne said instead, moving to change the subject. "Promise you won't open it 'til Christmas, alright?"
"Promise," Ginny confirmed, smiling brightly. "Errol will bring yours over on Christmas day, but I've got to send him off a day in advance 'cos he's so old now. And don't be surprised if you end up with a sweater as well. That's mum's doing, not mine." Ginny lowered her voice to ensure that Romilda could not hear. "I reckon she'll have claimed you as her own now, after she got the full story of the Chamber."
"I'll love it," Ariadne grinned, meaning it this time.
When Ginny finished packing, Ariadne escorted her down to the Hogwarts entrance and deposited her off with Fred, George, and Percy.
"Thank you for bringing Ginny down," Percy said, looking at Ariadne quite seriously. "I expect you'll ensure that Ron does not engage in any misbehavior while we're gone."
"Yes, Ariadne," interjected George, who made his voice monotonous and robotic. "Please look after our Ronniekins–"
Fred took a different route, puffing out of his chest pompously. "And ensure that he does not besmirch my good name as Head Boy. Did I mention that I'm Head Boy?"
Ariadne mock-saluted them both as they got a shove from Percy, laughing all the while. As she made her way to leave, however, she found herself summoned by someone calling her name.
"Yes?" she said, turning to find Draco in front of her. "Oh."
Draco searched her for a long moment, removing himself from the Slytherins who stood glaring behind him. She had not seen him since the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match, when he had blocked her off from curious students as the dementors swarmed around her. He had been suspiciously silent since.
Draco cleared his throat when Ariadne waved a hand in front of his face. "Where's your trunk?" he asked, turning his gaze to the empty spot on the ground next to her.
My what? Crabbe stepped out behind Draco, a DLM embellished truck emblazoned under his right armpit. Ah.
"Draco," Ariadne said slowly, testing out the bounds of their familiarity. Her confidence built when he didn't push back, though he returned those searching silver eyes to her face. "I'm not coming home. I thought you knew."
"Why not?" Draco demanded hotly, and if it was just the two of them, Ariadne was sure he would have stamped his foot.
"Well, I'm not allowed, for one. Officially by the Ministry, but your dad's not exactly my biggest fan right now. I don't think I was quite wanted, anyway."
"I wanted you," Draco said abruptly. He turned his head briefly, checking to ensure that his friends were not listening in before he continued. "To be home at Christmas. And mother, of course. She'll be disappointed that you'll miss the ball. And," Draco's pale cheeks pinkened, "you'll be missing your birthday."
Ariadne did her best to keep the shock off her face, scared of frightening Draco off with an overt display of emotions. But it had been a long time since Draco had sought her out with anything more than detached aloofness at school, and the last thing she wanted to do was make him stop.
"Last year, you were the one who wasn't there," Ariadne reminded him. "And it was awfully boring. Not to mention I'd been a bit of a pariah at the time." She looked pointedly at Astoria and Daphne at the reminder, though her eyes held no malice. Daphne had guided Astoria away from her, as though mere interaction entailed Gryffindor contamination. A year had passed, but it still wasn't exactly Ariadne's favorite night.
"I'll be there this time," Draco countered. "It's never boring for me." The corner of his lips pulled up in the barest hint of a smile before dropping again. "It would have been fun."
Ariadne shrugged. "I'm stuck here. Fudge's orders." She hesitated for a moment before deciding she had nothing to lose. "But I'll see you, right? When you're back?"
Draco took his own time in responding, continuing to observe her once more before nodding curtly. At that, he turned his back to her and signaled to Crabbe that he was ready to leave. Pansy, looping Draco's elbow with her own, sent a victorious glance back at Ariadne when he did not shake her off. Ariadne resolutely ignored her, too lost in her own thoughts.
Her reaction to the dementors must have been much worse than she remembered, if it got Draco to act like this. In public, no less.
Very few students had elected to stay at Hogwarts over break. Far less than last year, even, proving that Hogwarts parents feared the threat that Sirius Black posed to all wizards more than they feared the threat of the Chamber of Secrets towards muggleborns.
But Ariadne certainly didn't mind how quiet the castle was. No people meant no stares, no hushed whispers, no silent accusations. She, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were free to roam about the castle as they pleased for the next week, enjoying the company of the complete group after so long apart.
After dinner on Christmas Eve, during which the four of them complained about a bland meal of baked fish and debated whether Fred or George would win in a fight, the boys went their separate ways while Ariadne convinced Hermione to sleep over in her dorm.
"I don't know…" Hermione hesitated, but Ariadne could tell she'd be easily convinced. "I had been hoping to head to the library and get more work done before the term starts once more."
"It's holiday!" Ariadne insisted. How Hermione still had schoolwork left to do, Ariadne would never know. She studied every moment that she wasn't doing research for Buckbeak's trial, and by the way she went about it, it was as though she was taking double the coursework of any other student. "And it's Christmas! Think about how lonely you'll be walking back from the library in the dark, all by yourself. Returning to an empty room with an unmade bed, wishing anyone else was around. Or you could wake up beside me! And then we can bring our gifts over to Harry and Ron in the morning."
"My bed would not be unmade!" Hermione defended herself hotly. Ariadne tilted her head with an innocent grin, and Hermione began to waver.
"Fine. I've just got to grab Crookshanks." This caused Ariadne to frown, which Hermione dutifully ignored. "And promise me that we'll go to bed early."
"I promise!" Ariadne squealed as she grabbed Hermione's arm, dragging her up towards her room.
She was lying, of course. Ariadne and Hermione stayed awake long after Ariadne's thirteenth birthday struck. Only Crookshanks was asleep at midnight, curled up contentedly in Romilda's bed while she and Hermione whispered to one another on the other side of the room.
At around two in the morning, Hermione fell silent. Taking the hint, Ariadne shuffled around in her bed to find a position comfortable enough to fall asleep in, though she knew that she'd likely be up for hours longer. Just when she decided to lay flat on her stomach, however, Hermione spoke once more.
"There's something I've been meaning to tell you."
Ariadne shifted once more so that she was on her side and facing Hermione, squinting her eyes as though it would help her see in the dark. It didn't.
"I know something about someone." Hermione's tentative whisper enveloped the empty room. "Something that might be important. But it's not my secret to tell."
"It's up to you," Ariadne whispered back. She wanted to know, of course, especially now that Hermione brought it up. And it would be nice for someone else to be the secretive one, for a change. But she wasn't going to push Hermione further than she was comfortable with.
"I trust you," Hermione said, and she paused only briefly before speaking again. "I think– no, I'm quite certain, actually– Professor Lupin is a werewolf."
Well.
That certainly wasn't what Ariadne had been expecting Hermione to say. Maybe something more along the lines of 'I saw Penelope Clearwater snogging a Slytherin' or even 'I think Ron might have a crush on Malfoy' (maybe not that one). But Lupin? A werewolf?
Ariadne's mind flitted back to everything she had ever learned about werewolves. That they were vicious, bestial creatures of the night. More animal than man with a thirst for killing. Narcissa shuddered, even, whenever Lucius ranted about the latest Ministry bill proposal promoting werewolf rights. Bills that he'd always victoriously preen about shutting down.
Professor Lupin wasn't like that at all. She'd barely heard him raise his voice at a human– how would he be able to hunt and kill one?
But it's not like Hermione was ever wrong. Not about something like this. If she was certain that Professor Lupin was a werewolf then, well, he was certainly a werewolf.
It made sense, now that Ariadne thought about it. Why he was sick at the end of last month, and the month before. It could even explain–
"Could that be why Snape was making him a potion?" Ariadne asked, remembering the day that Snape had intruded on her and Harry's meeting with Lupin. Harry had been convinced that it was poisoned, but Ariadne had been suspicious of Lupin's willingness to drink it. "Some sort of werewolf cure?"
Why would Snape help Lupin? They didn't seem to like each other too much, though Lupin didn't seem to particularly dislike Snape either. But she couldn't imagine that Lupin's past friendship with her father would inspire any particular magnanimity within Snape. Perhaps they had bonded over a shared hatred of him now.
"There was no known cure for lycanthropy in the book that I read," Hermione considered slowly. "But it hadn't been updated since 1986. I can check more recent potions archives next time I'm in the library. What color did you say it was?"
"It was blue. There was blue smoke coming off it, at least."
"It's certainly possible," Hermione conceded. "I'll check."
With the considerable burden of this secret now lifted from her shoulders, Hermione allowed her head to now rest back snugly onto her pillow. She was asleep within moments.
Ariadne was not so lucky. Images of bared teeth and Professor Lupin's sad smile seemed to meld together every time she closed her eyes. By the time morning rolled around, she felt as though she hadn't rested at all.
She must have, however, for Ariadne awoke to a pile of presents at the foot of her bed that hadn't been there the night before.
Hermione was already up, tying a red ribbon around Crookshanks, who presented himself to her without fight despite the reluctance on his smushed face. Poor cat.
"Good, you're up!" Hermione noted, though she didn't look up from her task. "My presents came to Ginny's bed. It's really quite fascinating how the castle knew where I was…"
Ariadne rubbed sleep out of her bleary eyes, pulling her legs over the edge of the bed. She stood, stretching her arms over her head, before reaching out to unwrap one of her presents. It had no note but was carefully wrapped in brown paper.
An impossibly soft sweater fell out, ice blue and hand-stitched with the letter 'A' displayed large on the front. Ariadne slipped it over her head immediately, running her hands along the sleeves as she made a silent reminder to send Mrs. Weasley a thank you note. She had never received anything like that before, stomach feeling warm from the care with which the sweater was made.
Wrapped within the sweater had been a package of Sugar Quills Deluxe, a note from Ginny attached to the stem.
Ariadne popped one in her mouth and tossed another to Hermione before grabbing her next gift. It was some kind of silken black ribbon. Attached was a note from Astoria, explaining that placing the ribbon in her hair would instantly style it. Ariadne set it in her bedside drawer. Though she was used to wearing her hair down, she figured it would come in handy.
Finally, from Narcissa, Ariadne received an extraordinarily comprehensive list of names– some kind of Pureblood directory, bookmarked on pages with names of people who were of similar age. A hint, if Ariadne had ever seen one.
Ariadne set the book down before reaching under her bed and grabbing another one. She raised it up and shook it so as to attract Hermione away from Crookshanks, to no avail.
"H'mione," she called. Feeling slightly ridiculous, Ariadne pulled the Sugar Quill out of her mouth before trying again. "Another one for you!"
Hermione unwrapped the book carefully to find Pureblood Customs 101 by Madame Edwina Burke. She gasped with excitement, opening it up to its index page.
"How to Avoid Shaming Your Husband at His Work Function," Hermione read aloud, before closing the book with a snap. "How archaic!" she exclaimed delightedly. "I love it. Thank you. Now open yours!"
She handed Ariadne something square (a book, Ariadne could safely assume).
"The Giver," Ariadne read. "Is this a muggle book?"
"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "I figured you wouldn't have access to any while living at the Malfoys, so I got one for you. This one's quite popular this year, I've heard."
The two Gryffindors continued to peruse their gifts until Hermione noticed the time, declaring it late enough for Ron and Harry to have gotten up as well. They waded through the Common Room without bothering to change out of their pajamas, walking over to the boys dormitory with presents in hand for delivery.
Finding Harry slipping on his own forest green Weasley sweater, while Ron observed his maroon one with distaste, Ariadne blushed as she remembered the last time that she was in Harry's dorm. Given the flush on Harry's face when his head popped out from the collar, he was likely remembering the same.
"Aria!" Harry announced, startled. "Hermione! What are you doing here?"
"We come bearing gifts," Ariadne said, lifting the presents in her hand awkwardly. She cringed internally. We come bearing gifts?
Ron didn't seem to mind, bounding over excitedly at the sight of more gifts. He stopped in his tracks when he spotted Crookshanks, who had trailed after Hermione into the room.
"He's not allowed in here!" Ron yelled, but Hermione paid him no mind, dropping Crookshanks unceremoniously onto Dean's bed.
Sensing an impending fight, Ariadne shoved her gift into Ron's stomach. It proved to be an effective distraction as he stopped glaring at Crookshanks in order to unwrap it.
"Wicked," he breathed. For Ron, Ariadne had gotten Chudley Cannons earmuffs charmed to provide real time commentary on each of their games, as well as inspiring witticisms each time they lost. She had spotted them while browsing Ginny's copy of Quidditch Times for gift inspiration, which is also how she happened upon Harry's.
Ariadne turned to Harry, feeling suddenly shy as she handed over Quidditch gloves designed to ensure that he wouldn't lose his grip on the broom.
"Thanks, Aria," he grinned, and his eyes seemed impossibly emerald, brought out by the green of his sweater. Ariadne felt her heart flutter somewhat at the sight. She nodded mutely even after Harry turned away to grab his own gift for her, long enough that Hermione slapped her lightly on the arm.
Ariadne shook herself out of her reverie just before Harry turned around, ignoring Hermione's knowing smile. It's just Harry, she reminded herself.
"I didn't have time to wrap it," Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "But I thought you should have it."
It was the photo from the other night, of her and her mum with Harry and his. Harry had had it framed in a delicate gold wiring.
"I can't accept this," Ariadne said quietly, eyes shining as she looked up at Harry. "Not if it's your only copy."
"It's not!" Harry denied quickly, shaking his head and stepping back so as to prevent her from attempting to return the gift. "No, Hermione taught me a duplication spell–"
"I don't know any dup–" Hermione began, before shutting her mouth with a snap. Ariadne could not see Harry's face, but his expression must have been compelling, for Hermione widened her eyes at Harry before turning back to Ariadne. "That's right, I did teach you that spell, Harry. I must have forgotten."
Hermione really was a horrid liar. But Harry kept his green eyes wide and innocent as he looked back down at Ariadne, hands placed placatingly in front of him. Ariadne narrowed her eyes and Harry sighed. "Just keep it, alright? I want you to have it."
"Alright," Ariadne acquiesced, ghosting the tips of her fingers over her mother's face. Lily threw her head back in laughter, giggling at whatever was said by the person behind the camera (James Potter? Her father?), but Selena remained collected. She looked down at the baby in her arms with tired eyes, smiling when Lily next to her adjusted Harry in her own as he attempted to reach forward towards Ariadne.
"Harry Potter," Ariadne said slowly, voice full of realization. She looked up at him and smiled, and despite his evident apprehension over what she would say next, Harry smiled back. "I think you just might be my oldest friend."
"Who knows," chimed in Ron as he leaned over to look at the photo. "You're, what, a month there? I'll ask mum if she's got anything of you and I gallivanting on the day you were born."
"When were you born, Ariadne? I've just realized we never learned your birth date." Hermione commented, narrowing her eyes shrewdly.
Ariadne startled. She didn't want to lie, but she didn't want to admit it was today, either. There'd be a whole fuss, and Ariadne really was not the type to want special attention on her birthday. "Er–" she grabbed her final present to fiddle with and buy time, a small velvet box with a crisp white note pasted to it. Ariadne gasped when she read the note, nearly dropping the box along with it.
Happy Birthday, my princess.
The unfamiliar scrawl left no signature, but Ariadne was quite certain of who must have sent it. Only the Malfoys knew when her birthday was, and they certainly weren't going to send more than Narcissa had already given. She dropped the note to open the gift, the contents of which provided her with the definitive answer.
"What's with you?" Ron asked, leaning down and grabbing the note from the floor. Ariadne didn't bother to stop him, looking over the gift instead as Harry and Hermione stared at her curiously. It was a gold ring, which was a lovely present, but the carving embossed on it was what made it significant. Ariadne could recognize the crest of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black well enough– Narcissa was careful to leave small references to their family around the around the house and integrate its symbolism into her clothing and jewelry, a reminder that while she may have been a Malfoy now, she was born a Black.
Ariadne was therefore familiar enough with the crest to recognize that this wasn't it, not really, because the Toujours Pur stamped at the bottom of the emblem now read Toujours Libre. Always Free.
Ron's voice cut into Ariadne's thoughts, loud enough to be heard over the pounding of her heart. "Blimey, you were born on Christmas? That's too bad."
"She what?" Harry grabbed the note from Ron, looking at Ariadne with a rather betrayed expression. "Why didn't you tell us it was your birthday?"
Hermione did not give Ariadne the opportunity to respond, having skipped looking at the note altogether in favor of observing the gift. She looked at Ariadne with concern, fright evident in her wide eyes. "Ariadne, you don't think–"
"I don't know," Ariadne interjected. She pulled the box closer to herself, feeling oddly defensive of her gift. If it was from her father, well, she could worry about that later. But the ring was about more than her father. It represented her family– her horrid, prejudiced family, but it was now the only family that she had. And she was the last one remaining in it. It really was her ring.
"Oi, mate," Ron drew Harry's attention to beneath his bed, where a long and thin parcel had fallen amidst the ruckus of Hermione and Ariadne's arrival. "You've got one more."
Harry shrugged and lifted the parcel onto his bed before ripping it open. Ariadne was grateful for the distraction, more so when Harry opened it up to reveal a magnificent broomstick that instantly grabbed Ron and Hermione's attention. Ariadne didn't know much about brooms, but even she could tell that this was a particularly nice one.
"A Firebolt," Ron breathed. "How did you–?"
"I didn't," Harry said hoarsely, answering the unasked question. "I don't believe this." His eyes were wide with wonder as he began to laugh in astonishment, making Ariadne smile along with him. The only person who did not look happy was Hermione, who stared down at the broom apprehensively.
"Is there a card?" she asked quietly. Harry turned the package over but there was nothing there. Neither he nor Ron allowed the mystery to deter their good mood, but Ariadne's face fell when she saw Hermione looking between Harry's broom and her ring uncertainly. There was only one possible connection.
Hermione turned her attention to Ariadne once more, leaning in with a whisper so as to not attract the boys' attention.
"You would notice, right?" she asked, voice full of false hope. "You'd notice if an expense that size was drawn from your account? It's an international standard broom, after all. That's thousands of galleons, at least."
Ariadne bit her lip as she shook her head slowly, beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable at both the implication as well as the financial turn of the conversation. "I don't think so," she admitted quietly. "It probably wouldn't, erm, make a large enough dent, really."
"Okay," Hermione nodded, as though that were the answer she'd expected all along. It probably was, knowing Hermione. She schooled the concern from her expression before turning back to Harry and Ron, who were making excited plans about when they'd try the Firebolt out.
"I don't think either of you should ride the broom just yet," Hermione said firmly.
"Are you out of your mind?" Ron asked incredulously. "What else do you expect Harry to do with it, sweep the– AHH!"
Sweep what, exactly, Ariadne would never learn. At that precise moment, Crookshanks leapt out of Hermione's arms and at Ron's chest. Scabbers escaped the attack just in time, scurrying out of the pocket of Ron's pajama top just as Crookshanks clawed through it. Ron grabbed Scabbers with one hand and pushed Crookshanks with the other, causing the cat to knock over Harry's trunk.
A shrill whistling filled the room as Harry's Pocket Sneakoscope rolled out from within. Ariadne covered her ears.
"What is that thing?" she yelled.
"It's broken!" Ron yelled back. "It's s'posed to detect untrustworthy behavior, but it keeps going off no matter what! It did that on the train too!"
Harry stuffed the Sneakoscope into a sock and back into his trunk, so that the only sound remaining in the room was Ron's bellowing.
"Get him out of here!" he demanded of Hermione. Ron placed a protective hand onto Scabbers, who looked very frightened indeed.
"You shouldn't have pushed him, Ron!" Hermione said hotly, pulling Crookshanks defensively into her chest. Looking appalled, Ron moved to yell again, but Harry beat him to it.
"It's nearly time for lunch!" Harry called a bit too loudly. He looked at Ariadne meaningfully.
"Ah, yes!" she played along. She checked her bare wrist for a watch that was not there. "It is time for lunch. Let's head down, shall we?"
Tempted by the idea of food, Ron took the bait. "Fine," he said, crossing his arms. "But I won't go unless Hermione locks that up." He pointed at Crookshanks.
"That's fine," Ariadne said quickly, before Hermione could fight any more. "We've got to go back to our rooms to change anyway. Crookshanks could stand to be alone for an hour or two, right, Hermione?"
"Fine," Hermione sniffed before stomping out of the room with Crookshanks still in hand. In response, Ron huffed and turned his back to the door. He lifted his mouth to Scabbers' ear and began to whisper soothingly, causing Harry to meet Ariadne's eyes and roll his own slightly.
"What's funny?" Ron demanded, spinning around to glare at Ariadne, who had laughed aloud. She schooled her expression.
"Nothing!" she insisted. "Really!" Ariadne added, when Ron's glare did not let up.
"Hmmph." Ron turned back around, placing Scabbers on his nightstand and his hands at the hem of his shirt. "You should go. Unless you were planning to watch me change–"
"Hard pass," Ariadne coughed. She gathered up her gifts, placing the ring on her finger after a moment's hesitation. She held out her arm and admired it. The ring was heavy, gold weighing down her right hand ever so slightly. It fit perfectly.
"Alright, alright, I'm going!" Ariadne placated when Ron chucked a pillow at her. 'See you in ten,' she mouthed to Harry, who nodded before turning back to admire his Firebolt, running a hand along its gleaming handle. Ariadne frowned at the sight before leaving.
Lunch had been an intimate gathering between the few remaining students and professors at Hogwarts, and Ariadne was disproportionately pleased to have received a Happy Birthday from Professor Dumbledore himself. When Hermione elected to stay back and have a word with Professor McGonagall, however, Ariadne knew that her time with her ring was likely limited.
As Harry and Ron fawned over the Firebolt in the Common Room, Ariadne curled up by the fire and stared at the engraving upon it. Toujours Libre. Always Free. Was her father bragging? Taunting her with the reminder that he knew where she was and was free to find her? But if her father really had been Voldemort's right hand man, why would he want to erase Pur from the engraving? Didn't that go against–
Ariadne sighed as Professor McGonagall made her way through the Common Room portrait hole, pulling her ring off her finger with resignation. Harry and Ron looked up from the broom in surprise as Hermione trailed meekly behind.
"May I see your broomstick, Potter?" McGonagall asked, grabbing it from his hands before waiting for an answer. She gave it a cursory glance before stopping in front of Ariadne, who held out her ring without prompting. McGonagall nodded firmly.
"I will be taking these," the professor said, though not unkindly.
"W-what?" Harry asked, getting to his feet.
"I will have to strip them down," McGonagall continued as though Harry had not interrupted. Ron's mouth was hanging open in shock. "Check for potential jinxes and hexes. I expect you'll get your items returned within the month, but I cannot be certain."
"Why?" Harry asked, looking over at Ron for backup.
Ron echoed the sentiment, directing his question towards Hermione. "Why'd you go running to McGonagall?"
"Because," Ariadne said quietly, speaking for the first time since they'd left lunch. All three of her friends turned their heads toward her, Harry searchingly and Hermione pleadingly. "Because she thinks my dad sent them. And I do too."
A very long chapter for you all! I was really excited for this one, especially the first half of it (Ron!). If you liked it (or didn't) please leave a review!