The timing of Easter break couldn't have been worse, considering.
Ariadne had forgotten all about her promise to Astoria, made way back after the Hufflepuff game (or The Fall, as people around Hogwarts had taken to calling it). It felt like a lifetime had passed since then, or something very nearly close to it.
But she couldn't skive off – not after Ginny already had, splitting from them at the platform due to an evidently pressing brunch with her Aunt Muriel. And Hermione had waved off her concerns about needing to stay to research for Buckbeak's defence, anyway, dismissal so quick it was almost offensive.
The trip began with little fanfare. Lady Greengrass ("Call me Elora, dear") welcomed her with open arms, picking the girls and Daphne up herself from the train station – though she brought an elf along to carry their bags. And when they arrived back at the Greengrass Estate, Elora sent them upstairs with some tea as she made her arrangements for dinner. Daphne split off quickly, running off to meet Tracy Davis for shopping in Diagon Alley. Ariadne and Tori, in the meantime, busied themselves with Wizarding Britain's latest.
"Ravenna Lahiri looked bloody fantastic at Sleekeazy's Dragon Pox gala," commented Astoria, sliding the Daily Prophet Style Section over to Ariadne. A gorgeous witch cloaked in tight fitting red silk blew a kiss at her, not-so-subtly flashing the rock on her hand in the process. A decrepit man looking rather confused by her side, though he gave a meek wave after a beat. That's Blaise's mum?
Ariadne looked up from this week's rather dull Witch Weekly. "Merlin's pants. What's that ring cost? A hundred thousand galleons?"
"Try one million," smirked Astoria knowingly. "Which is about as old as her husband. Why else would she have married him?"
"His personality," Ariadne countered, tone dry as she flipped carelessly through the remainder of the magazine. Why should she care if "Skye Parkin 'Selfens' with Donaghan Tremlett in London" last night? The shots of the Weird Sister's bassist trying to shield his inebriated girlfriend's face were rather intrusive. It seemed like a nightmare, to be famous. "What's it mean to Selfen, anyway?"
"Sell-Fen, not 'cell-phone,'" Astoria corrected her pronunciation with a laugh. She flipped another page in her magazine with a casual hand before the smile dropped from her face, mouth pinching in as her brows furrowed with sudden realization, and she followed up quickly. "Who cares, anyhow? Honestly, these magazines are so bloody boring."
Astoria waved her wand once to stack the magazines over by her desk. She pasted a smile back on her lips and threw herself onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. Ariadne's foot took the brunt of the hit. She made a half-hearted noise of displeasure and attempted to kick her off, but Astoria would not budge.
Flipping onto her stomach to face Ariadne, Astoria rested her elbows on Ariadne's calf and placed her small face in her hands. "Far more interesting is the info that you've been spreading around Hogwarts. For someone who doesn't like rumors, you're certainly full of them."
Ariadne shoved Astoria off her legs once and for all, stretching her arm behind herself to grab a pillow. "I'm full of nothing," she defended with a swat to Astoria's temple. "Lest I remind you that only one of us here told the entirety of Hogwarts that Gareth Harper is a bedwetter."
"It was absolutely wicked, just so you know," Astoria giggled, batting the pillow away as she ignored the accusation. "Pansy's the absolute pariah of the Slytherin house. Even mum wrote Daph and told her to lay low from the little wretch for a while. You're an evil genius, Black."
"That was not my intention!" Ariadne climbed off the bed and onto the floor, taking a sip of her tea to buy herself a moment of time. She dropped her cup back onto the saucer, hot enough from the guilt without the additional burn to her fingers. "Who cares about a Floo call, anyhow? It's hardly salacious."
"Of course I know that," Tori placated, albeit a bit too gleefully. "The timing was right, is all." She leaned in closer, though her mood dimmed perceptibly. "You missed it, but Pansy got in trouble during the Christmas ball at Malfoy Manor this year. She-and-Draco-kissed-under-mistletoe." Astoria spat out the last sentence very quickly, as though wanting the words out of her mouth as soon as possible. "It was nothing – nothing! But Prescott saw – so she was already on the rocks anyway. It was a peck, hardly a kiss at all."
"Sounds like it." Ariadne made her tone agreeable, and she managed just barely to keep any sarcasm out of it. Astoria continued at full tilt, as though she couldn't help herself.
"Am I upset that I won't be Draco's first kiss? Sure, of course I am. But that doesn't mean that he can't be mine. I think he'd appreciate it, don't you? Which is why I'll be saving my–"
"Tori…"
"Right," Astoria cut herself off. "Like I was saying, totally innocent. It's not like she was, I don't know, sneaking into his dorm and sharing his bed, right?" Astoria placed her cup down with a smirk.
Ariadne gasped, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly at Astoria before looking away. Astoria batted her own sweetly.
"Now that was innocent, of course. How'd you even hear that?" Ariadne pulled her long hair up with the ribbon she had received for Christmas, busying her hands and pulling several strands to cover her flushed face. Ariadne hoped she didn't look too red, though she knew that it was unlikely she wouldn't stand out against the stark white of Astoria's room.
"So it's true! Pansy's been slandering you all about school. No one believes her, obviously – just looks like she's projecting to save her own skin. But I know you, Ariadne Black, there's got to be a bit of truth in there somewhere. Why else would you have gone for Pansy's throat like that like that?"
"Her throat?" began Ariadne, indignant. But a harsh POP! saved her from having to continue to entertain the conversation. She didn't care about a sullied reputation, or whatever rubbish Draco had been on about. But she didn't care to discuss the circumstances surrounding her reconciliation with Harry, either. It was unfortunate that a moment of vulnerability had become a rumor around school. Ariadne had half a mind to curse Seamus Finnegan, but she knew the fault was really her own.
Taffy appeared in the center of the room, waving her spindly fingers at the two girls in a hurried motion. "The table has been set for dinner, Misses, and Mistress Elora asked that Taffy retrieve the young Misses. No pyjamas, please, says Mistress Elora, for there is a very special guest."
Taffy popped away before either girl could answer, arriving in Daphne's room down the hall by the sounds of it.
Astoria shrugged at Ariadne's questioning look before walking into her closet. Ariadne grabbed a cream sweater dress out of her overnight bag, having changed into a pyjama set Tori threw at her the moment that they entered her room. Astoria had donned a matching one herself, a sunny yellow to Ariadne's pale blue, and Ariadne wondered then if they'd be expected to change for dinner. It never would have been a question at the Manor, lest she face the wrath of Narcissa, and dinners were always the most formal affair of all. Especially when there was a guest. Ariadne didn't expect Elora would require any dress robes, at least.
This assumption was vindicated when Astoria stepped out in a simple but finely tailored skirt and top, pale pink to match the clips in her hair.
"Are you ready?" Tori asked, and Ariadne straightened from buckling the strap on her shoes and nodded. "Fab!"
Astoria moved through her door, chattering away. "I asked Taffy for a bolognese tonight, but mum's got Daphne off carbs. And of course, if Heir Daphne can't eat it then none of us can, because–"
Astoria, who had remained one steady step in front of Ariadne as the two walked down the stairs, stopped suddenly in her tracks. Ariadne caught herself just in time, grabbing onto the railing for extra support.
"What is it?" Ariadne craned her neck around Astoria but saw nothing, still too high on the curved staircase to see around into the foyer below. Astoria remained silent, opting instead to smooth her skirt with one hurried hand and patting down any rogue flyaways with the other.
"Lady Malfoy!" exclaimed Tori a touch too brightly as she carefully began her descent once more. It was Ariadne, now, who froze where she stood. Narcissa?
Ariadne had not seen Narcissa since August, that horrid month-long span after blowing up Ms. Dursley and before she was able to go back to Hogwarts. And she'd hardly spoken to her even then, too furious with her by association with her husband. Or perhaps furious with her in her own right, for allowing Lucius to speak about her mother and father like that.
For allowing her to hear the truth like that.
"Hello, Astoria." Narcissa's voice had always been soothing, cold and low with just the right touch of softness. Ariadne watched the tension drain ever so slightly from Astoria's rigid shoulders. "It's lovely to see you, darling. Is Ariadne with you?"
Ariadne hesitated only for a moment before stepping down into visibility, remaining silent and keeping her eyes forward, avoiding Narcissa's appraising silver gaze in defiance. That had been a mistake, and Ariadne was entirely caught off guard when thin arms enveloped her as she reached the bottom of the staircase.
It occurred to Ariadne that she should return the hug about a second too late, but Narcissa did not seem to mind. She pulled back to examine Ariadne's face, a hand remaining on each of her shoulders.
"You've grown," Narcissa commented. That's what happens, Ariadne thought to reply, when you don't see somebody for nine months. But a smile cracked through Narcissa's otherwise porcelain face, a small quirk of the lips as her eyes shone with something like fondness. Ariadne bit her tongue.
"Yes," she said instead. And it was the strangest thing, but very deep down inside, Ariadne found herself wanting to smile back.
"It was so lovely of you have Ariadne and I over to the estate, Elora, darling. When Ariadne wrote asking for that I sign off on the holiday, I thought it would be nice to join and have a night together, just us girls."
"It's no trouble at all, Narcissa." Elora took a leisurely sip of Superior Red she'd had Taffy retrieve from the cellar, smiling at Narcissa fondly. Ariadne certainly believed her, watching as the elf popped back in to replace the plates of poached salmon and veg with dessert. Daphne looked vaguely disappointed at the bowls of berries that filled the table, and she took only a few. "I always love to catch up with you, and Ariadne's such a dear. It's nice to have the girls away from school, at least, especially with the security lately."
Elora's comment was not pointed, but her reference was obvious. Ariadne tried her very best not to hunch in on herself at the long glance that Daphne gave her from her mother's side. Based on the flash of smugness that passed over the older girl's sharp face, it seemed unlikely that she succeeded.
Narcissa reached over to Ariadne, tucking a fallen piece of dark hair back into her bow. "Quite," she agreed, shifting her eyes from Ariadne to Elora with an easy smile. "Though if I recall correctly, we had our fair share of security issues back in our day as well. Was it Bulstrode who managed to sneak that horrid bartender from Hogsmeade into our dorm? No," Narcissa corrected herself, smoothing Ariadne's hair as she thought. "That can't be right. Constance Travers, perhaps?"
Elora, who had taken a larger sip than the last while Narcissa was still talking, took a very long moment to swallow as she put her glass down. "Perhaps," she agreed finally. "Your memory's always been much better than mine. That was so long ago – before I was betrothed to Tristan, even." She did not look at either of her daughters as she reached casually for the bottle, snapping her fingers loudly for Taffy upon realizing that it was empty.
Daphne's mouth was utterly agape as she stared at her mother, her unused dessert fork clattering onto her plate from where her fingers loosened in surprise. Astoria, meanwhile, looked between her mother and Narcissa, eyes wide and brow ever so slightly furrowed in confusion. Whatever had passed between the two women, Ariadne didn't quite understand it either.
Narcissa emitted a smooth, tinkling laugh. "Was it? I can hardly remember myself these days."
"Yes, well." Elora cleared her throat, searching for words that did not come. She was saved by her eldest daughter, who had recovered from her surprise well enough to speak between clenched teeth.
"Mother," began Daphne, posture rigid. She shifted slightly in her chair, blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she moved. "I believe it's time for Astoria and Ariadne to go to bed."
"What?" Astoria protested. "Daphne, you always bl–" she caught herself with a side glace to Narcissa, flushing at the thought of looking untoward in front of Draco's mother.
"Yes," Elora agreed. "Yes, it's quite late, isn't it. No complaining, Astoria." She interrupted her youngest daughter's protest before it could begin anew. Astoria dropped her napkin down on the table with just a touch more force than necessary, as much aggression as she'd allow herself with Lady Malfoy as witness. Ariadne stood, pushing her chair in softly.
Narcissa rose from the table gracefully, gently placing her loosely folded napkin to the left of her plate. She looked pleased that Ariadne had already taken care to do the same, though it should not have been a surprise. It was a Madame Burke fundamental, after all, even without the benefit of Narcissa's guidance.
"Just a moment, Elora. I'd like to speak to Ariadne before I return to the Manor for the night. I won't see her again until June, after all. Could you have the elf bring tea?"
Narcissa did not wait for Elora to answer before moving towards the parlour, robes swishing behind her as she walked. Ariadne followed behind, dread lining her stomach.
Narcissa sat down on the white couch, crossing ankle over ankle primly. She threw her white-blonde hair over one shoulder and patted the cushion next to her, looking up at Ariadne expectantly. Ariadne hesitated only briefly before sitting, ever dutiful.
"How has your year been, darling?" asked Narcissa as soon as they were settled. "Tell me truly."
"Fine," replied Ariadne. She did not offer more, keeping her voice detached – she'd learned from the best, after all.
Narcissa waited, arching one perfect brow.
Merlin, she really was good.
"Fine!" Ariadne repeated, more emphatically this time. "It's been – it's not so bad, really." It wasn't a lie. Not until last week, at least. The stares, the whispers, they'd just started to stop.
Those silver eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and Ariadne got the distinct impression that Narcissa understood everything that Ariadne did not say.
"They are fathoms beneath you," Narcissa sighed, shifting forward slightly. "Let them stare. Let them whisper and wonder. You're a Black, Ariadne. You're like me. You have what theywant."
"No," disagreed Ariadne with a bitter laugh, leaning forward to meet her aunt. "I'm a Black through my father. Who would want that? To be the daughter of the man who betrayed his friends and killed twelve muggles. The man who abandoned me to my fate the moment that he could. Like he abandoned my mother."
"Ariadne," Narcissa cut in sternly, recognizing the quote, but she softened quickly. "Lucius was not being fair when he said that to you, darling. He shouldn't have said it at all. It's not exactly true. It was a very well-known fact, within our family and among society circles, that your father did not want children. He wasn't made for that sort of thing, he'd always say. I'm certain part of it was just to spite my poor Aunt Walburga, but that certainly does not mean that it was not a true statement. And your mother knew that."
"My mother–" Ariadne interjected hotly, but Narcissa continued to speak as though Ariadne had not.
"Your parents were not in a relationship when you were born. Or ever, frankly. Your father did not abandon your mother upon her pregnancy, because he was never there to begin with. He was not one for a relationship, your father. A child wouldn't change that, no matter what your mother may have hoped."
Oh. Lupin had said something to that effect, but she hadn't realized then what exactly he had been trying to say. Ariadne rarely could, with Professor Lupin.
But if her father hadn't loved her mother, hadn't wanted Ariadne enough to stay, then had he at least–
"Did he even," Ariadne began, her voice small. Narcissa was the only one to ever tell her the truth – she had warned her about her father's betrayal before school began, and she was candid about her parents now. If Ariadne asked, she'd get the answer. But did she want to know?
Narcissa waited for Ariadne to continue, silver eyes almost warm. Ariadne allowed herself to be vulnerable. "Did he love me?"
A small smile graced Narcissa's lips, the corners downturned with an emotion Ariadne couldn't quite place. Scorn, perhaps, at Ariadne's desperation. Utterly un-Slytherin, unable to hide her need to be loved. Her want.
She hoped it was scorn, at least. It'd be better than pity.
"It would be impossible not to love you, darling." Narcissa placed a cool hand on the side of Ariadne's face, pointed nails featherlight against the apple of her cheek. But just as Ariadne closed her eyes at the touch, it was gone as quickly as it came. "But the thing about your father, you must understand, is that the person that he has loved the most has always been himself. Nothing could change that. Not even you."
Ariadne nodded once, curtly, but she did not cry. Not until Narcissa wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in close, pressing the back of Ariadne's head into her own neck with a manicured hand. Narcissa allowed the tears to flow, rubbing the back of her head gently, and waited until the tears ran dry before speaking again.
"You shall always have a home at Malfoy Manor, Ariadne. Do not forget that."
The rest of the trip was rather uneventful, considering. By the end of it, Ariadne was practically shaking on the train, so eager to see her friends again. It had only been a few days, and she loved spending time with Astoria, but Ariadne had not spent more than a day away from Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the past nine months. She could hardly contain her excitement, delighted to see them even amongst the somber mood.
The sole silver lining to the news of Buckbeak's impending doom was that it seemed to have instantly and vigorously revitalized Ron and Hermione's friendship. Perhaps it was the possible loss of yet another animal that triggered the road to absolution. Or, rather more likely, it was the tears in Hermione's eyes.
In fact, Ron seemed positively awestruck by Hermione's presence since Ariadne's return. The two spent all their time attached to the hip, seated side by side in the library's secluded back corner researching precedential animal trials since the 14th century. Ariadne would join them, chiming in now and then as she worked on her essays. But they didn't seem to particularly need her help.
Ariadne was beginning to feel awfully like an intruder as she sat with them. She'd caught Ron staring habitually at Hermione's hands every so often, before he'd drag his eyes to her face, gaze rather reverential. On the rare occasion that the older girl took notice, her cheeks would pinken slightly and she'd stumble over whatever passage she had been reading aloud.
Merlin knows what's going on there.
Whatever had happened, Ariadne was not entirely sure she wanted to know. Harry had tried to explain, a rushed sort of fantastic ramble about Cheering Charms, walking out of class, and duel, maybe, but Oliver Wood had practically dragged him away by the ear before Ariadne was able to press any further.
He spent nearly all his time on the Quidditch pitch these days, as Wood upped practices from five times a week to daily in preparation for the upcoming Slytherin match. In fact, Ariadne only ever got to see him in the hallways, where she contributed to her civic House duty by walking Harry Potter, Seeker Extraordinaire, to his classes.
It had begun by accident on the first Thursday back as she left Charms and made her way over to third-years exiting Transfiguration at the end of the hall. This was their usual routine, where Harry, Ron, and Hermione would deposit Ariadne off at her History of Magic classroom as they made their way over to the Gryffindor tower at the end of their morning lessons. Ginny would tag along too, sometimes, though lately she'd taken to spending the bulk of her free time with her recently acquired Nimbus 2001.
It was a rare moment of peace that Ariadne could find with Harry as finals (exams and Quidditch, that is) loomed, and she was eager to take advantage.
"Malfoy?" Harry pulled a face, nose wrinkling upon hearing of the surprise guest at the Greengrass dinner.
Ariadne laughed in return, whacking him lightly on the shoulder with her textbook. As lightly as she could, at least, though the 1600-page tome did cause Harry to falter slightly in his step. "She's not so bad, you know. Not to me, at least." Ariadne paused for a moment before speaking again, keeping her voice as lofty as she could. "After all, if I don't have her, I have no one."
Harry opened his mouth in protest, but Ariadne cut him off before he could begin. "Not like that, of course. But, well – you know what I mean."
"Yeah, alright," conceded Harry. "I suppose she's the best of the bunch, if you're looking at her husband and son."
"Oh?" Ariadne grinned. "Looking at her husband and son much, are you?"
Harry moved quickly to shove her with his shoulder but, expecting the move, Ariadne was quicker. She was already metres ahead of him by the time he righted himself.
"Keep running, Black!" he yelled, though she could hear from the placement of his voice that he was gaining on her. Heads snapped towards the two of them instantaneously at the very utterance of her last name, but Ariadne was undeterred. She hardly even noticed, in fact, motivated only to win, though she allowed arrogance to get the best of her when she turned back around towards Harry to stick her tongue out. The mistake proved fatal.
It was almost in slow motion, the slight shift in Harry's eyes as he stretched out an arm to stop her. But she'd turned her head back to the front a beat too late, not that she'd have been able to slow her legs down enough anyway. By the time Ariadne even realized anything was happening, she'd already knocked her chin into the body in front of her, landing her tailbone directly onto the hard concrete. Ouch.
"Whoa there, Harry!" Oliver Wood exclaimed as Harry slowed to a stop in front of him and the heap of Ariadne at his feet. "Can't have my seeker breaking his leg before the match. Not running from the Slytherins, are you?"
And what am I? thought Ariadne from the ground where she remained. Chopped dragon liver?
"Not today," Harry laughed, reaching down to help Ariadne up. She batted his hand away and righted herself, pulling her legs together and standing up carefully so as to avoid her skirt riding up. Still laughing, Harry ignored the slight and seamlessly transitioned his outreached arm to grab her bag instead. "Actually," Harry mused. "I'm not quite sure where they've been today."
"No trips, you mean?" Wood was taken aback when Harry nodded.
"Trips?" interjected Ariadne, rubbing a hand on her aching back. More bruised than anything else was her ego, though she had recovered from Wood's slight and was pleased conversation had not yet veered too heavily into Quidditch territory.
"Trips. Jinxes, sometimes." Wood confirmed helpfully, distracted as he searched the halls around her and Harry. His eyes narrowed suddenly, and Ariadne followed his gaze to the end of the hall, where Adrian Pucey had just turned the corner. Spotting Harry, the Slytherin Chaser reached for his wand, a Flipendo on the tip of his tongue. Harry and Ariadne each reached for their own, but Wood put a hand out to stop them.
"Just a moment," he cautioned, and stepped to the side from his position in front of Ariadne. Pucey faltered at the sight of her, but the curse died on his lips. Somewhat emboldened by the Chaser's silence and the presence of Harry and Wood at her side, Ariadne lifted a hand into a cautious wave. The Slytherin slipped his wand back into his robes with a scowl, though he continued to walk towards them.
"Wanker," Pucey hissed as he passed, though which of the three he was referring to was not precisely clear. Ariadne looked to Wood to see if he'd respond, but the wide grin on the older boy's face was undisturbed by the insult. It wasn't until Pucey was out of sight that Wood opened his mouth, whooping with delight. He moved quickly to pull Harry into a deep embrace, leaving his Seeker rather taken aback, but not in the least more than Ariadne, whom Wood next elected to grab by the back of the neck before placing an enthusiastic kiss at the crown of her head.
The gesture was so utterly bizarre and so obviously driven by Quidditch that Ariadne didn't even have it in her to be indignant. She shot a questioning look at Harry, who merely shrugged in return. But he did not look concerned, and Ariadne allowed herself to relax in Wood's presence.
"This girl!" he exclaimed before shouting out once more. It was directed at Harry, this time, who had once again found himself in Wood's arms. The older boy was shaking him by the shoulders, staring into his eyes with a manic gleam.
"You're not to go anywhere without this girl, Harry!" Wood paused, shaking Harry once again when he did not respond. "That's an order from your Captain, do you hear me?"
He did not wait for Harry's answer, turning to Ariadne instead. She took a large step back before he could move toward her, not quite as willing to be shaken about. Wood was undeterred, however, though he kept his arms at his side as he made his demands.
"You have a duty to this house, Ariadne." Wood was really very serious, and Ariadne nodded solemnly. It was the best way to reason with a crazy person, she had learned. Better to play into their delusions.
"Quite right," she placated, trying to recall the layout of the Marauder's Map in her mind in order to determine the best route to the Hospital Wing. He'd finally cracked – she thought it'd be the loss of the Cup that would get him, or maybe a bludger to the head.
Realization dawned on Harry as he rejoined Ariadne's side. "You think they're not targeting me because of Aria?" he asked, but by the time it was out of his mouth he'd realized the truth of it. Malfoy's soft spot for Aria was just about the only thing he was good for.
"Targeting? Could somebody please explain what is going on?" Ariadne was beginning to feel a bit like a parrot, repeating herself as she was, and she was tired of being lost in the conversation. They weren't even talking about Quidditch!
"I don't want to see you in these halls without her, Harry." Oliver called out over his shoulder behind him. He had elected to ignore Ariadne in favor of walking towards the pitch, single-minded in his pursuit. "And don't forget Harry," he continued to nag, even as he moved further and further away. "No catching the snitch until we're fifty points up, yeah?"
Harry rolled his eyes at the same time Ariadne did.
"Yeah," she called out to no one. "He's only been your star seeker for about three years!"
Harry laughs, no longer annoyed. Arm around her shoulder? Too much? Blushes and removes it? "Come on," "We'd better hurry if I'm going to make it to Defence. Duty to your house, and all that."
"Yeah, alright," Ariadne agreed, though she was not entirely caught up on what she was agreeing to. "You can explain what exactly you mean by targeting on the way."
Ariadne was not duty-bound to her House for too long, for the Gryffindor-Slytherin match was set for the second Saturday back from Easter break.
She had hardly slept the night before, too nervous for Gryffindor and for Harry to settle down whenever she closed her eyes.
Ginny was the same, it seemed, hopping out of bed and pushing Ariadne into the shower the moment that light broke through the dormitory windows. The two made their way to the Great Hall as soon as they were able. Evidently with the same idea, the two teams were already seated at their respective tables, hardly picking at the feasts placed before them.
"I'll find you in a moment," Ariadne promised to Ginny, who nodded before seating herself next to Angelina Johnson and grabbing a plate of eggs.
Ariadne made her way over to the Slytherin table, head held high as she felt the eyes of the Hall begin to turn in her direction. Let them stare, Narcissa had said. And so she did, even as the gazes turned from confused to hateful, as Pansy Parkinson sneered the closer Ariadne got to Draco.
Unlike his Housemates, Draco did not notice her approach. Only when she was hovering above him did Draco look up from his untouched toasts, pale face having taken on an unusually pallid color with nerves. And was that a bruise?
"Come to finish the job?" sneered Draco, but Ariadne could see that it had none of his usual bite.
"Pardon?"
Draco did not offer further explanation, instead scowling down at his plate as Pansy stroked his arm.
Fine, I don't care. "I – I wanted to say good luck," spoke Ariadne, cursing herself for having hesitated. It seemed that even she was not immune to the strength of Pansy's glare.
Draco's silver eyes widened ever so slightly before returning to their ordinary narrowed position.
"You don't mean it," he said, bitterness seeping into every word. "You're always cheering with the mudbloods and the blood traitors. Cheering for Potter."
"I want Gryffindor to win," Ariadne did not deny it, because to do so would have been to lie. "And I hope Harry catches the snitch, of course. But I know that this matters to you, and I want to wish you luck."
Draco sniffed haughtily, turning his head from her ever so slightly. Ariadne strained to hear as he spoke, for she could see his lips moving, but she could not quite make out the words.
"What was that?" she asked, and Draco huffed before speaking again.
"I said thank you," he said roughly, quietly. Pansy scowled next to him, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff of her own.
Ariadne replied with a pat to his shoulder, ignoring the way that he reddened and shook her off. She waved to Astoria as she left, and the blonde girl waved back with a brilliant grin.
Ariadne returned to the Gryffindor table and took a seat next to Harry, and though the conversation lulled when she first sat, it resumed by the time she helped herself to her breakfast. She laughed a bit, though, at the quizzical furrow to Harry's brow.
"Don't worry," Ariadne reassured, bumping his shoulder with hers. "I'm still your number one fan, of course."
"Good." Harry replied with a grin of his own. "I doubt I'd be able to catch the snitch at all if I knew you were in the stands cheering on Malfoy," he joked. Ariadne knocked his shoulder with hers as she laughed.
Hermione and Ron arrived only a few minutes later, and both Hermione and Ariadne spent the rest of the breakfast cajoling Harry to eat something before he made his way over to the field. They had managed only a scone by the time Wood instructed the team to leave, making their exit as soon as the Slytherin team was entirely out of the Hall.
Although the Slytherin team received cheers from the members of its own House, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff alike joined the Gryffindors in their applause as they sent off their team.
"Good luck, Harry!" rang out from the Ravenclaw table, and Ariadne's head snapped in the direction. Cho Chang. Ariadne turned back towards Harry, to see if he'd heard, and he had apparently, because he had slowed just a bit and his cheeks–
"Is that a blush, do you think?" asked Ginny with a scowl.
Nausea pooled in Ariadne's belly as she shrugged, not trusting what her voice might sound like should she choose to speak now. I probably didn't eat enough, she reasoned, and I've been anxious about the game. She grabbed a piece of toast to sooth her nerves. It wasn't that she cared if Cho had a crush on Harry, after all. Or if Harry had a crush on Cho, for that matter.
Did he like Cho? Cho was pretty, sure, and older, and athletic, and hadn't Ron said the boys talked about her? Ariadne hadn't asked, then, who he was talking about, though now she wished she had. For now that she really thought about it, Harry had smiled at Cho at the last game, even though they were competing.
Why had she even noticed who Harry smiled at? He could smile at whoever he liked. Should smile at whoever he liked.
"Good luck, Harry," Ginny mimicked, pitching her voice upwards in a meek impression that, had Ariadne been feeling more charitable, she'd have had to admit sounded nothing like Cho. But Ariadne was not feeling particularly charitable, for whatever reason, and she huffed out a mean laugh.
She and Ginny were interrupted by a sharp elbow pressing jabbing into Ariadne's side. Ron's gentlest way of letting her know that he and Hermione had finally finished their discussion on the 1871 execution of a Graphorn and were ready to go.
"C'mon," he urged, hauling both Ariadne and Ginny up by their arms, ignoring their protests dutifully. "Let's win this once and for all."
The game passed in a blur, in part because Ariadne kept her eyes very firmly shut for most of it. It was the dirtiest game she'd seen yet, with the Slytherins fouling left and right, and the attacks were directed almost exclusively at Harry.
Ariadne couldn't bear to watch, keeping her hands pressed against her eyes and peeking through her fingers when Ron gave her the green light. It was almost worse, not watching, for Ariadne was left instead reliant on Lee Jordan's outraged commentary on the brutality of the Slytherins, coupled with Hermione's pained gasps of empathy each time Harry was injured.
"What's it at now?" she murmured to Ron beside her.
"Seventy-ten," came his breathless reply. "Harry's looking for the snitch, 'cos if he catches it now – he's spotted it! He's going after it, speeding up now – YOU DIRTY SNAKE! GET OFF!"
"What is it?" insisted Ariadne, but Ron continued to demonstrate his litany of curses rather than reply.
"Malfoy's grabbed the back of Harry's broom!" Hermione cried, diligently resuming the task that Ron had been unable to finish. "It's a penalty but Alicia's just missed it. Now Slytherin's got – is that a bludger – oh, I'm rubbish at this, Ariadne, just open your eyes!"
Hermione pulled at the hands covering Ariadne's face and removed them with great force. She then placed one of Ariadne's hands into one of her own, squeezing once before turning back to the game. Ariadne squeezed back in appreciation.
The timing was awful, for as soon as Ariadne began watching again, Draco had already begun his descent to chase after his snitch. He was smiling, giddy with the win nearly secured in his hands – Ariadne was almost happy for him.
Not happy enough, though. "FASTER, HARRY!" she shouted, and though she knew that he could not hear her, Harry heeded her words. He pressed down on the front of the Firebolt, speeding up faster than she'd seen him – seen anyone – ever go before, gaining on Malfoy meter by meter until the nose of the broom was facing almost directly towards the ground.
Harry accelerated faster and faster, and Ariadne gasped as he removed both of his hands from the broom to bat Draco away. Surely he couldn't come back from it, didn't have enough space before hitting the grass to come up, and call her a coward but Ariadne could not bear it any longer. She shut her eyes once more, could not allow herself to watch, squeezed Hermione's hand on one side and looped an arm around Ron on the other. She held her breath.
"YES!" yelled Hermione as the stadium exploded with applause, and Ron echoed the sentiment, throwing his arms around the two of them in elation. "Come on!" he yelled, dragging them both to begin their fight onto the pitch.
Ariadne was not ashamed to admit that she threw an elbow or two on the way down, battling what felt like the entire school to be closest to the cup. She didn't feel guilty, not really, because it was Gryffindor's win. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff could go win their own Cup.
"Congratulations!" she yelled out over the crowd, breathless after having finally made her way down. The Gryffindor team was in the throes of celebration, passing around the Cup and collapsing on one another in a haze of laughter and tears.
She felt herself be lifted from the ground suddenly, spun around twice. "Fred," she laughed, hitting him on the shoulder. "Put me down!"
"Off you go then," obliged Fred with a grin, before shifting to sneak up on his unsuspecting younger brother.
Fred had deposited her directly in front of Harry, who was grinning so brilliantly and with such unadulterated joy that Ariadne could not look away. It was just a sport, she knew, and not even one that she particularly understood. She felt rather silly, then, at the tears that welled up in her eyes at the sight. But his happiness was her own, and she had never seen him brighter. Ariadne could not resist throwing her arms around Harry in a wild hug, and he hugged her right back.
The smile never dropped. Nor did the hug, for that matter, not even when the Cup finally made its way round to Harry. He kept one arm around her shoulder and used the other to hoist the Cup into the air, Gryffindor victorious with twenty points to spare.
If Ariadne thought that the celebration following the Ravenclaw match was rowdy, it was only because she had not then known what rowdy was.
Those below fifth-year were not even allowed to stay past 10, this time, with only very limited exceptions (such as for the star seeker who caught the Cup-winning snitch, or for Cormac McLaggen, whose girlfriend was a sixth-year). Ariadne made Harry swear on the map to let her know if anything interesting happened, though she did catch sight of Angelina and Fred (or was that George?) snogging on a sofa before she left.
Harry had nothing to report come morning, because he was such a boy he wouldn't even know if anything interesting had happened. She'd had to practically weasel it out of that apparently Oliver Wood was interested in more than just Quidditch, having been spotted going into a broom closet with Robin McTighe.
It reassured Ariadne to know that she wasn't the only topic of conversation of school, at least. And Astoria lived for this kind of stuff – she'd never forgive Ariadne for passing up the chance to learn more. And alright, Ariadne loved it too, but only just a little bit.
The celebratory post-Cup mood persisted well throughout the month. Even the weather seemed to be celebrating, gloomy clouds lifting as the promise of June neared. With June meant finals, though, and Ariadne had to put up a very good fight to convince Ron and Harry to take their revision outside. But even they had to admit that studying was just a bit more enjoyable sitting by the lake.
Hermione was a total lost cause, holed up in the library and unwilling to leave as she prepared for her double exams. Ariadne didn't understand how it was possible, and Hermione was unwilling to explain. The only possible explanation would be time travel, for Ariadne didn't see how else Hermione could be sitting for Charms and Ancient Runes at once, but even she knew that time turners were strictly under Ministry lock and key. Lucius had complained about the inaccessibility enough, after all.
June's approach also meant that Buckbeak's execution neared, and Ron, Harry, and Hermione had returned to their attempts at appeal with renewed vigor. Ariadne was able to contribute very little, for she had been tasked with convincing Draco to drop the farce of a trial altogether.
In the aftermath of Slytherin's loss, however, Draco was not interested in speaking to Ariadne whatsoever. He made no acknowledgement of the four of them at all, in fact, not even to gloat about the near guaranteed outcome of execution. He simply swaggered around the castle, Pansy by his side and Crabbe and Goyle trailing after him, no sneering commentary at all.
He was not even vindictive when the day finally arrived, preening only somewhat when the Minister of Magic stopped to speak with him specially. The peacocking ceased, even, when it became clear that Fudge was making a beeline for Harry Potter down the lawn as soon as he was finished speaking with Draco.
"Hello there, Harry!" greeted Fudge jovially. Ariadne caught up to them and stepped forward, causing Fudge to falter just a touch. "Ariadne," he tacked on, visibly subdued. "I suppose I should not be surprised to find the two of you together, again."
"Nope," Harry replied evenly, causing a smile to rise to Ariadne's lips. Fudge frowned. "Good to see you, Minister."
Ariadne motioned for Hermione and Ron to step forward. "Hello, Minister. This is Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Our friends."
"Oh yes, yes, hello!" said Fudge, shaking each of their hands in turn. Ron and Hermione, who had not ever before interacted with the Minister of Magic, returned the shake awkwardly.
"Have you come to meet with Professor Dumbledore?" asked Ariadne politely, when it became clear that Fudge had little else to say.
"No, my dear," the Minister sighed deeply, placing a hand over his heart. Hermione scowled. "I'm here on rather unpleasant business. Not for the eyes or ears of little girls, I'm afraid."
"Oh no," Ariadne imbued gratefulness into her tone, looking at the Minister with wide eyes. "I suppose a hippogriff's execution is a rather grizzly matter to some."
Fudge's mouth remained ajar, pressing his chin against his wide neck in a rather unseemly manner.
"Especially when the hippogriff is innocent!" yelled out Ron from behind her, though Hermione nudged him in the ribs before he could say any more. For the best, probably, considering Ariadne had just provided Fudge with his last name.
"Goodbye, Minister," dismissed Harry coldly, and he began to walk away. Ariadne giggled at the look on the Minister's face as she followed, sharing a grin with Hermione despite their horrid moods. Fudge was not used to dealing with such irreverence, but only because Fudge was not used to dealing with Harry Potter.
The four of them met back up after their respective exams, though Harry brushed her off when she asked how Divination went. Wretched, probably, realized Ariadne, and she did not press further. They were all focused on Hagrid anyway, who had let them in to his little hut despite urging them to leave all the while.
They could not have, would never have, for although Hagrid did not cry, it was only because he had no more tears left to shed. He was not resigned, but he was not hopeful either. It seemed that Hagrid had no idea what to make of the situation, utterly helpless and feigning good spirit as he trembled over the stove while preparing tea.
Hermione cried enough on Hagrid's behalf, silent tears that she did not allow to show whenever Hagrid turned their way. Ariadne stepped in front of Hermione to provide her some privacy, taking over her friend's role in serving up the tea that Hagrid placed before them. But when she lifted the milk jug, something fat and gray scurried out from behind it, and Ariadne was not proud of the shriek that she emitted.
"What?" Harry stood from his seat, reaching to take the jug from her hands. "What is it?"
Ariadne maneuvered the jug that Harry had taken, reaching forward to turn it upside down. "I think it's Scabbers…?" She was pretty sure that it was Scabbers, at least, due to the telltale patchiness of her fur, but she couldn't say with any amount of certainty how prevalent that trait may be in other rats.
"It is Scabbers!" said Ron, watching the rat cling to the jug for dear life. He did not let go, even when Ariadne gave the thing a shake. Ron reached in instead, ignoring his pet's squeals, and raised it to his face. "It's me, little guy. Where have you been?"
Hermione shushed him, having kept an eye on the window. "They're here!" she whispered, casting a desperate look at the room behind her. But there was nothing any one of them could do.
"Out the back, the lot of you," said Hagrid. He gathered the four of them (and Scabbers) in his great arms, squeezing tightly before throwing the cloak on top of them. "Don't let 'em see you, alright? Ye'll be in big trouble if Dumbledore knew ye'd been sneaking away from the security at night, especially the two of yeh. I'll be alrigh', don't yeh worry abou' me."
He pushed them out before they could protest any longer, sending them off into the night while he opened the front door to Buckbeak's fate.
"Please, let's hurry," Hermione whispered, and the four began to move up the sloping lawn toward the castle. "I can't bear it."
Ron stopped moving despite Hermione's pleas, and Ariadne watched Hermione's eyes glisten with tears in the light of the full moon. She thought of Professor Lupin, suddenly. Hoped that he was alright, wherever he might be.
"Please, Ron," begged Hermione, but Ron was keeled over as he attempted to wrangle a seizing Scabbers. He was going beserk, biting wildly and shrieking, but even his noises could not cover the unmistakable sound of a swinging axe.
"They did it," whispered Hermione, clutching Harry for support. Ariadne grabbed her by the waist, helping her stand as she swayed. "They really did it!"
"We've got to go," Ariadne whispered. "We can't let Fudge find us, and he'll be on his way back any moment." She gave Ron a long look from the corner of her eye, but he did not notice. He was too busy trying to stuff Scabbers into his pocket, the rat fighting him every step of the way.
"Oh, give him here, Ron," said Ariadne impatiently. She grabbed for Scabbers but had underestimated the extent to which the rat did not want to be held, for Scabbers bit deeply into the flesh between her thumb and index finger. Ariadne swore and shook her hand, causing Scabbers to fly out into the air and onto the ground. Ariadne cursed again.
It was her fault, grabbing him like that. Although it made no difference to Ariadne whether Scabbers lived or died (really, he'd been dead in her mind up until about a half an hour ago) she'd be damned if she allowed this second death to be her fault.
But she wouldn't let her friends stick around and get caught because of her either. She threw the cloak off of her shoulders and, ignoring Hermione's vehement protests, ran off after the thing.
Ariadne leapt in the darkness, landing on her belly with her arm outstretched, and felt her arm close around something furry. Got him. Though he squirmed something fierce, Ariadne would not make the same mistake twice.
Hermione, Ron, and Harry skidded to a stop in front of her, and Ariadne felt a surge of gratefulness for her friends. Of course they didn't go off without her. Only they would risk detention, or worse, in order to help her effectuate a rat-rescue.
"Get back under the cloak, Ariadne," urged Hermione. "It's the Whomping Willow!"
"Give him here," said Ron, and Ariadne extended her arm to hand over the still-wriggling Scabbers. But before Ron managed to take him, before any of them even had a chance to catch their breath, something enormous hurdled over out of the darkness, blocking the exchange.
The dog's heavy front paws landed directly onto Ariadne's stomach, knocking the wind out of her. It didn't let up, rolled out of the way as Ariadne's friends attempted curse him off, attention remaining firmly on her. It clamped its mouth around her outstretched arm, inch-long teeth sinking into her skin. Ariadne whimpered in pain.
Harry lunged forward with a yell, giving up on his wand in favor of a physical approach. He managed to grab at the beast's tail, but it was too late, for it had already begun to drag Ariadne away, closer to the tree. Ariadne fought with every step that it took, but she was no match for the dog, four times her size at least.
She screamed, then, screamed for her friends to run, because surely the beast would tear them all apart. But they did not, shouting her name in turn, and the last thing that Ariadne saw before the dog dragged her underground was Ron soaring through the air after one mighty crack of the trees branches, leg turned at an angle.
Ariadne cried out as the dog continued to pull her through a low tunnel. It hurt, of course, one arm certainly broken, skin torn, and the drag of her body along the ground was no walk in the park either, but the dog seemed… careful, almost. It didn't take the most direct route, taking care to avoid large rocks where she might hit her head. Was he… could he understand?
"Please," she said to the dog, absurd now as her desperation reached a peak. "Let me go."
The dog seemed to pause for a moment, wincing slightly at her pained gasps, but it continued forward with renewed vigor, speeding up as they neared the end of the tunnel. They had been there forever, it seemed, but all at once the tunnel began to rise, and Ariadne could see a patch of dim light if she strained her eyes above her.
The dog released her once they reached a small opening, and Ariadne scrambled to get to her feet and make a run for it, but she hadn't quite managed to get onto her feet when the dog lunged for her arm anew.
"Alright, you win," she said, jerking her arm away, saving Scabbers' life while she was at it, for she had not let go through it all. Ron better thank her for it.
She shoved Scabbers deep into the pocket inside her robe with her left hand and cradled her right, wincing in pain. Ariadne ignored the dog's growl as she made her way into the opening herself. Saved her from getting her arm torn into again, at least, and the dog didn't seem so interested in eating her after all.
The dog had taken her to some sort of room, disordered and dusty with paper strewn about. Rusty stains covered the floor and the wall, smeared about on the broken furniture as well. Perhaps she was wrong about the eating, actually.
She made one final attempt to make a run for it, faking right before jerking back to the door. The dog was faster than she, leaping out in front of her once more. It sat back onto its hind legs and bared its teeth in a snarl, towering over her.
Ariadne raised her left hand in submission, for she could not raise her left, but the dog seemed to understand. It got back down onto all fours, still reaching her chest at that height. He poked her in the shoulder with his snout, turning her around, and she allowed the dog to nudge her forward. What choice did she have, really?
It led her through the room and into another, empty but for a dusty four-poster bed, teal curtains hanging from each side. She looked at the dog curiously, but it nudged her once more, jerking his head in the direction of the bed.
Watching the dog, Ariadne took a cautious seat on the bed. Was this what it wanted? It seemed so, for the dog settled onto the floor besides her, sitting back onto his hind legs once more. The movement was not nearly as menacing, this time, for the dog did not growl. It seemed to shrink, actually, joints straightening and canines contracting into something more –
Human.
As quickly as she could have blinked, there was a man standing before her where there once was a dog. Hardly a man, actually, waxy skin stretched tightly over his skull as though he were a corpse. His matted hair hang limply from his head, falling to the small of his back. He opened his parched lips with great effort, skin cracking as he did.
"Are you alright, Ariadne?" rasped Sirius Black.
Ariadne screamed.
I'm back! Hopefully you're still around.