Third Year, Part 1

A couple of mischievous students had thought it funny to let off a dungbomb in the library. The pungent odor still lingered. As a result, most students had chosen to study and do their homework in their respective Common Rooms. Slytherin's was too full to Skyrah's liking. Her dorm wouldn't be quiet enough either. The girls were drooling over the photos of brawny bare-chested professional Quidditch players featuring in the last Witch Weekly installment. If they got tired of that, they'd start criticizing classmates behind their backs to mock their weight, social status, and gossip about the latest family scandals. A waste of time, in Skyrah's opinion, especially when an Arithmancy exam would be taking place in four days. Sitting by an old tree by the Black Lake and studying was the most attractive alternative. The daylight wouldn't be gone in another hour or so. The temperature was tolerable, not too chilly nor too warm. It wasn't a windy day, and no clouds threatened with potential showers. She was determined to take advantage of the situation. The spot was usually solitary, perfect to finally understand the logic behind number properties explained in Numerology and Grammatica.

She heard them before seeing them, before even spotting her tree. Voices.

"Give it back!"

"You're a pathetic, ugly git!"

"What are you gonna do now that Malfoy ain't here to protect you, mmh?"

"I don't need him!"

"It doesn't look like it, Snivellus."

Skyrah followed the sound of derisive laughter. There they were: Potter and his three musketeers. Severus was trapped between their pointing wands and the thickest tree trunk, the one she had meant to study by. Potter was holding two wands; Severus, none. Skyrah closed her eyes and envisioned Severus in Charms class. The wand made of the darkest wood, she remembered. That's his. That was, too, the one she accioed. Summoning Potter's wand would lead to trouble. Potter and his friends would view that as an attack. She wasn't there to start a fight but to stop one.

Potter cursed and turned around instantly. "Riddle?!"

The rest twirled simultaneously, like a sheep flock obeying their dog.

"Tsk, tsk… Are you a band of thieves now?" She eyed meaningfully at the book Pettigrew was clutching. It wasn't common to see him engrossed in books of any kind.

"Don't put your nose in our business. We wouldn't want to fight a lady, not even one like you," retorted Potter, narrowing his eyes at her snake crest.

"Afraid I'm more powerful than you?"

"Hardly," said Potter, flushed. "It wouldn't be right. I happen to have standards."

"You could've fooled me, seeing you've got no problems being four against one. Four, may I add, armed boys against a wandless one. How very un-Gryffindor." With the exception of Lupin (who was suddenly incapable of making eye contact with her), the group struck a defensive pose. Pettigrew's, she noticed, wasn't as confident as the rest's. "And, if you don't mind me saying, ladies can fight boys if we please. Even in the Middle Ages, they knew that and allowed witches to duel wizards. Elizabeth Smudgling was awarded the title of Supreme Dueler in 1379, and Alberta Toothill won the All-England Wizarding Dueling Competition of 1430. Both dueled mighty wizards. You would know that and more if you paid attention in History of Magic. Suffice to say, your so-called standards need an extensive upgrade."

"We don't need a Slytherin to lecture us about what's right and wrong," whined Potter, wrinkling his mouth in disgust.

"Are you sure? It seems to me that Professor McGonagall would be appalled by your behavior. Shall we test my theory?"

Throughout the exchange, Severus had attempted to run away, only to be caught by Black, much taller and stronger than him. So humiliated Severus felt, he didn't say anything nor dared look at Skyrah.

"Let Severus go," she commanded in a tone that made them all shiver. "And give him his book back."

"We're doing him a favor," intervened Peter, his voice unsteady. "He's reading about the Dark Arts."

"It's the kind of book my cousins have," followed Black. "It must've been Narcissa who gave it to him. The Hogwarts library hasn't got books like that."

"If you think he's breaking the school rules, you should inform a prefect or a teacher, but you won't do that."

"Why not?" It was the first time Lupin talked.

"Because if you do, I will tell on you for harassing a student."

"It would be your word against ours," said Lupin.

"Never have I been given detention. My House has never lost points because of me. Tell me, can you brag about the same? Do you honestly think they won't believe me?"

"Please! You're just as bad as the rest of your housemates!" cried Black.

"Am I? Enlighten me, what makes Slytherins bad?"

"You're all a bunch of supremacists that would never hesitate to use the Dark Arts and crush others to reach your immoral goals."

"And you know this… how?"

"All my family is Slytherin bar me."

"Ah. You must be an expert, then," she said in a mocking tone. "Can you prove I'm a supremacist that would never hesitate to use the Dark Arts and crush others to reach my 'immoral' goals, as you put it? Have you ever heard me insulting someone based on their blood? Have you seen me using the Dark Arts?" She clicked her tongue when the answer was silence. "Figures."

"Just because we can't prove it, it doesn't mean you aren't like that," Black pointed out.

"It doesn't mean that I am, either."

"She's right," said Lupin, surprising them all. "We shouldn't accuse her without evidence."

"But there is evidence," countered Pettigrew. "You've made some classmates cry."

Skyrah rolled her eyes. "It isn't my fault that some people are sensitive. Preferring solitude over company and being straightforward about it isn't punishable. I have never attempted to steal a book or other possessions, never jeered at a Hogwarts student by calling them pathetic, or ugly, or a git. I have better things to do with my time, unlike you. I am perfectly capable of reaching my goals without resorting to methods that would get me expelled. So I'll remind you, once again, that if you tell a teacher about Severus 'supposedly' having a banned book, I will tell on you for being bullies. I don't know what would happen to Severus. But I know what would happen to you. There's a Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff Quidditch match in a few days if I'm not mistaken. You wouldn't want to spend the match writing lines in Filch's office, would you?"

Potter gnashed his teeth. "Padfoot, let him go."

"But–"

"I can't risk it! I can't miss the match! The team needs me! We already lost last year's Cup!"

Black did as told with a scowl while Pettigrew handed back the book. Lupin guided them all back into the castle, trying to calm down his furious mates to no avail while Skyrah extended her arm for Severus to take his wand. He did so, incapable of meeting her eyes just yet.

"Do you want me to tell a teacher?"

Severus raised his head in surprise. "They left because they don't want you to tell on them and miss the match."

"I didn't promise I wouldn't. I promised they'd definitely miss the match if they told on you because I wouldn't keep mum," she explained.

"A clever tactic. But if you do that, they'll say the book isn't allowed, and I'll suffer the consequences."

"What consequences?"

"They said this is a book about dark magic."

After a glimpse at the title, she shook her head. "It isn't. I understand why Black thinks Occlumency is dark. Narcissa Black or someone in his family might be an occlumens, and he clearly associates them with evil. But that doesn't give him and his friends the right to mistreat you. If anyone should be punished, it's them, not you. Occlumency isn't used to harm others. It's the art of the protection of the mind; similar to a shield charm, but for your thoughts, not your body. It's so advanced magic, most wizards and witches have never heard about it. The library might have only one or two books on it, or none at all, but you wouldn't get in trouble for reading this book."

"How can you be so certain?"

"Professor Dumbledore is an occlumens himself."

He squinted at her. "How come you know that?"

"I just do." To avoid him inquiring further, she quickly added, "So? Should I tell on Potter and his friends?"

"No. The teachers always excuse them and always blame us, Slytherins. It isn't worth it. I've got the book back; that's more than enough." His dark eyes studied her as if she were a new potion recipe he needed to deeply analyze before attempting to brew. She stood still, merely blinking. "If you wanted to help me, why didn't you give me my wand back right from the start?"

"Would you have jinxed them?"

"Probably. They deserved it."

"I thought as much. It wouldn't have helped your case if I had told a teacher."

With that said, she sat with her back against the trunk and her legs bent, her book on her knees. Anybody else would have got the hint and left her to her studying. Severus was a smart boy. He'd got the hint. He just had pretended not to and settled by her side. Though it should've irritated her, her heartbeat raced, especially when his shoulder brushed hers. He tensed, expecting her to snap. Instead, she cleared her throat and made a point of not looking at him.

It could have been worse, he thought. She could have left, as always.

Severus stayed quiet for fear she'd change her mind and do exactly that. Only turning pages, chirps of birds, and occasional water movements caused by merpeople or the squid disturbed the otherwise profound silence. Despite his efforts to focus on his book, he'd sometimes feel that she was observing him. When he meant to check it wasn't his imagination, nothing confirmed his suspicions. She was apparently immersed in her textbook. He looked closer.

Her cheeks.

They were as pink as the rose petals used in beautification potions. He caught himself staring, blamed it on her charming looks and mysterious aura, and forced himself to read.

One more minute, and there it was again: that feeling of someone's eyes on him. Hers. He was quicker this time around, determined to catch her red-handed. Instead, he caught her tilting her head so that her loose hair would cover her face. A minute later, it happened again, only this time, she closed her book as if she meant to go.

"You're familiar with Occlumency. Can you practice it?" His sudden comment and question had been something unconscious, an attempt to start a conversation and make her stay. Only after he had spoken did he realize Skyrah and small talk didn't go together. He closed his eyes, inwardly cursing himself.

The warmth of her body next to his didn't fade.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. She wasn't looking at him but at the lake, debating the right course of action.

"If that's a good book," she began, "you must have read that a good occlumens shouldn't confirm nor deny others' suspicions, or Occlumency wouldn't be so effective, as the others would constantly wonder whether they are being lied to."

"No matter if you are an occlumens or not, you seem to know a lot about a supposedly obscure branch of magic."

Which was the reason why Severus had turned to Narcissa for advice. Last year, he had found nothing in the library that gave him a clue as to what Skyrah could have been doing to hide her emotions. This year, he realized Lily often compared Skyrah and Narcissa. It made him think that both Slytherin witches could have been using the same sort of magic. When he found a moment to talk to Narcissa alone, he asked her about the existence of such magic. Narcissa promised to give him a book with all the answers he was seeking, the book in his hands.

"Would you consider teaching me everything you know?"

"Just because I helped you with Potter, it doesn't mean I'll help you with anything else." Skyrah regretted the words and the tone immediately after. Even though it had become a habit of hers to act coldly, she had never meant to hurt Severus. Not him, of all people. She had done just that, judging by his reaction. He was standing up. "Wait! Don't leave! I'm sorry. I'm just not good–"

"At being kind. You still helped me and haven't made fun of me for being so pathetic."

"You're only pathetic if you believe the nasty things, lies, they say about you. But you won't believe anything they say, will you? You're better than those dunderheads."

He smiled at her. It was a timid smile, with almost unmoving lips but glistening eyes. Skyrah wondered if the funny feeling in her stomach had to do with him. Was that what he felt when Lily smiled at him?

"Is that the reason you defended me?" he asked, sitting down again.

She shrugged, hoping the feelings she didn't even understand herself were not palpable. "Potter and his cronies are infuriating. I can't stand them."

"I haven't seen you defending other students against them or anybody else for the matter. You act like Lupin. Though he never really hurts me, he never stops his friends. I think you don't like it when Mulciber, Avery, and Rosier jeer at muggle-borns, but you never stop them either. That's why Black couldn't prove you aren't like them. You choose to be neutral."

"What makes you think my beliefs are neutral? Do neutral beliefs even exist? Hasn't it occurred to you that maybe you've got the wrong impression about me? Maybe I don't wish to harm muggle-borns because I know teachers look down on students like Mulciber – and that would be detrimental to my persona – but I do believe muggle-borns aren't as powerful as pure-bloods. Maybe Lupin enjoys the feeling of superiority that comes with seeing you being bullied, and I do the same with those who aren't of pure blood."

"Or maybe you're just trying to trick me because I'm getting close to the truth, and you don't want that to happen." Her facial expression didn't betray her. "Would you have helped a muggle-born if Potter had targeted them?"

"No."

"What if I told you my parents are muggles?"

Her pupils widened for a fraction of a second, a gasp caught in her throat. "If there was a muggle-born amongst us Slytherins, they would never say it out loud, not even as a joke."

"The same logic could be applied to half-bloods. Lucius is convinced you are one – the way you talk and behave indicates you come from the pure-blood world, but your surname says otherwise. You come from America, which could explain why Riddle isn't a well-known surname in Britain. But then again, I've never heard you brag about your family, and your accent isn't American. If I had to bet, I'd say you don't defend muggle-borns because Slytherins would wonder if Riddle is actually muggle, and then you'd be second, never good enough."

"Like you?"

He swallowed hard and looked at the lake. He hadn't told anybody about his muggle father. Only Lily knew, and she swore not to tell. With Snape for a surname, though, there was little he could do to hide the fact that his blood was not pure.

"Your guess is logical but erroneous," she continued. Scowling, she opened her book in hopes he would drop the subject and let her review Arithmancy.

So much for that.

"You're incredibly observant and sharp, but not subtle enough for another Slytherin. There's a reason you helped me, and it isn't only your dislike for four Gryffindors, or you'd have stopped them sooner. You'd have stopped them when they bully others."

She groaned when he put his hand on the page she was pretending to read.

"What in Salazar Slytherin's name do you want? We aren't friends. We'll never be." He winced. Skyrah hesitated only a second before continuing, "I owe you no explanations. I expected you to thank me, not to interrogate me."

"If we aren't nor will we be friends, you only wanted to feel superior to Potter and find an excuse for Gryffindor to lose House Points, but you never cared about helping me. Should I thank you for that?"

For once, her observant skills failed her. She missed the pain hidden behind his lowered eyebrows and sarcastic tone. Her face clouded as his mother's did when Tobias threw away the soup it had taken her hours to prepare, simply because it was too cold by the time he moved from the sofa to the table. While Eileen would cry and apologize, Skyrah composed herself and fired back.

"You're making assumptions. If you aren't going to thank me, I suggest that you read in silence, or better yet, leave."

"I arrived first. If you don't want me to talk, you're the one who should go."

As she saw no point in arguing with him – it would take away precious time to study – she closed her Arithmancy book and stood up. Agape, Severus watched her and waited for her to settle by another tree near the lake. She went past all of them, first jogging, then running, faster and faster, away and away…

Towards the Forbidden Forest.

Bloody hell.

No matter their fight, the Forbidden Forest wasn't somewhere anyone should go on their own. He shortly debated alerting a professor. No. It would take him too long. Skyrah could run into trouble, maybe put herself in danger. He began to run after her, carrying Narcissa's book with him. On his way, he spied a hut.

Hagrid's.

They would be safer in the company of a half-giant. Severus banged on the door. Once. Twice.

No answer.

Severus got on top of a rock. No light or noise came from inside. Swearing under his breath, he climbed down. He was ready to enter the intimidating forest when he heard a voice that, by the accent, belonged to none other than Hagrid. Another replied: Skyrah's. Severus let out a relieved sigh.

The right thing would have been to wait for them and apologize, to tell Skyrah that she had been right, and he should have thanked her for she'd helped him. Asking her not to scare him to death if they argued again would be for the best as well. However, all that would take a level of bravery and vulnerability he wasn't willing to show. He caught his breath and hid behind enormous pumpkins instead, until Hagrid and Skyrah came into the hut. Severus took silent steps and positioned himself under the window. From there, he could hear them both well enough.

"D'ye need a hanky?"

Skyrah thanked Hagrid and blew her nose.

She's been crying, Severus realized with a sinking heart. I've made her cry.

"Ye shouldn't've gone ter the Forest."

"I know. I didn't even realize I was getting into it. I just needed to run away. Away from everything."

"Havin' a hard time at school, Miss...?"

"You could say so… Miss Riddle."

Hagrid gasped so loudly Severus was startled to the point he nearly dropped Narcissa's book.

"Ye've ter go back. Professor Slughorn must be worryin'."

"You know him, don't you?"

"Professor Slughorn and me've been friends fer yea – "

"I meant my father. Professor Slughorn also knows him."

Only once had she mentioned her family to Severus, alluding to her mother and grandmother, but not to her father. He closed his eyes, focusing on his hearing sense.

"We went ter Hogwarts together."

"He treated you cruelly. Whatever he did to you, I'm sorry. Seeing me must make you uncomfortable. I look just like him."

I wish I looked like my mother.

Severus remembered her confession. There was a prolonged pause and another noise of a blowing nose.

"I'll just leave. Sorry again. I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Wait! Why are ye havin' a bad time at school? Yer father never did."

"I wish I could tell you. I wish I could tell someone. Anyone." Her voice was trembling, fragile, so unlike the voice she'd use with her peers.

Severus's mind reeled. Had he been the sole cause of her tears, or did it go deeper? Why did she tell him they'd never be friends when she clearly wanted one? He'd like to be that someone she could trust. Very much. In exchange, he would be able to tell her things he wished he could tell someone, things to get off his chest like his situation at home. He couldn't tell Lily. Gryffindor as she was, she'd get scared.

"Thanks for getting me before the centaurs or an acromantuala did," she said as a farewell.

Severus didn't move from his hideout until Skyrah was already past the lake. The sun was setting. She must have resignedly set course towards the Common Room. There, he craned his neck amongst the throng, hiding the title of the book from the students by pushing the cover against his chest. Although Skyrah was nowhere to be seen, he did spot familiar blond hair into a half-up half-down hairstyle.

"Narcissa, are you busy?" he asked, tapping her shoulder to get her attention.

She was reviewing her notes, written in handwriting more elegant than legible. If not for the sketches of magical plants by the margins, Severus wouldn't have guessed the subject.

"Oh, you're studying for your NEWTs. I'm sorry for bothering you. Could we meet later? I really need to talk to someone. It can't be Lily, and Lucius isn't here anymore."

Her expression softened if only a bit when she caught sight of his forehead, beaded with sweat. Whatever the matter was, it was urgent enough for him to have been running just to ask her. With that in mind, she tidied up and took Severus away from the area of study in the Common Room and towards the sofas.

"Has Evans hurt you?" she asked, concerned.

"N-no. It's not about her. It's about another girl."

Her lips twitched into a brief lopsided grin. "Are you seeking advice on matters of the heart?"

"No!" he yelped, hating his pale skin and its tendency to blush at inopportune moments.

"What is it then?"

"Your cousin and his friends were... She arrived before anything serious happened. But we fought, and she ran into the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid found her. I spied on her and realized she wasn't only angry. I made her cry, and I feel…" He trailed off, not finding any accurate descriptors. "I'm afraid she won't listen to me if I try to apologize."

"If you are absolutely certain that she won't listen to you, there's still a solution." He gazed up at her with big, hopeful eyes. The sight alone almost made poised Narcissa smile. "This mysterious girl doesn't need to listen to you as long as she reads what you write to her."

"Write to her?"

"Once, Lucius wrote me a letter to apologize. Don't tell him, or it'll inflate his ego, but I still keep the letter and re-read it when I miss him. Girls like these things, even if they don't always admit it openly."

"I see…" he whispered, reflective. "She does write and read lots of letters. She might appreciate one from me."

"She might. May I know who the addressee will be?"

"Why?" he asked, shifting so that they wouldn't be so close.

"If I know her, I may be able to give you tips on how to write the letter."

"You just want to gossip."

Narcissa smirked. "That, too. I won't tell anyone, though. Not even Lucius. This is important for you."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"All right. Her name's Skyrah Riddle. She's in my year. Taller than me, shorter than Avery. Black hair, brown eyes..."

"Lucius has told me about her: a girl with a tongue as sharp as her mind," Narcissa interrupted as kindly as possible. "Rumor has it she's rather mean. It surprises me that she took the time to help you out. If you've offended her, a long letter may not be the best idea. Something short, meaningful, and honest is more likely to work with her. A concise note, even."

"Skyrah says she isn't good at being kind, but she isn't mean," he countered, feeling overprotective all of a sudden.

Narcissa sniggered, covering her mouth. "Not good at being kind? From now on, I'll use that as an excuse if somebody tells me I'm too stuck-up."

"Skyrah isn't mean," he repeated. "She avoids me most of the time, but she doesn't look happy about it. When we do talk, she's mostly kind."

"Mostly?"

"She did say we'd never be friends."

"That hurt you, you snapped, and she got upset."

"...Yes."

"I wouldn't take it as something personal. Riddle doesn't seem to want friends. It's her loss, Severus."

It was at times like this Severus wished Lily was there to listen to Narcissa. Perhaps Lily'd see why Severus liked her.

"I don't think Skyrah meant to hurt me anyway. Your cousin and the rest called me a pathetic git. She heard it all and told me I'm only pathetic if I believe the nasty things they say about me, lies. And she knows I won't believe those things because I'm better than them. Even when we were outnumbered, she didn't hesitate to take my side. Skyrah is kinder than most people in this school."

Narcissa grinned ruefully. "I'm glad that someone was there for you. My cousin Sirius and those he hangs out with are very immature. He doesn't listen to me when I try talking to him. He doesn't listen to Slytherins, not even to his little brother." She sighed and caught sight of the book Severus was still clasping. "Have you started it?"

"Yes. It's been helpful so far, but I've got some questions. Occlumency serves to protect your mind against legilimency. It is used to protect your thoughts. Can it help you hide your emotions?"

"Emotions arise from distinct parts of the brain. Occlumency affects the brain by creating a sort of veil that protects your emotions as well as your thoughts."

"But you still feel them?"

"Although Occlumency numbs the emotions, it doesn't banish them."

"Is it possible to be an occlumens at my age?"

"It is highly uncommon."

But not impossible. It took one occlumens to recognize another one, right? It had to be the reason Skyrah knew Professor Dumbledore is an occlumens as well. Severus had finally come across the kind of magic Skyrah used whenever she'd go from nice to detached and rather cold. The question was: why would she hide her real self?

"Narcissa, would you teach me some Occlumency? It is advanced magic. The book alone might not be enough."

"In summer. You could spend a few days in Malfoy Manor to learn the basics. My fiancé would welcome you."

"Really?" he asked, eyes shining like those of muggle kids upon seeing gifts under the Christmas tree.

"As long as your parents are okay with it."

"They won't mind it."

Having one less mouth to feed would give his mother peace of mind and bring his father joy (if Tobias could feel joy outside of alcohol and football). That, however, remained a secret Severus wouldn't share with Narcissa.

Professor Binns was rambling on and on about a Treaty that occurred Merlin knew when. Severus wasn't particularly focused. For once, it wasn't Lily, who distracted him. She couldn't, being in the Infirmary with a case of stomachache. Since the incident with Potter one week ago, Severus had written eleven letters to apologize to Skyrah, ten of which hadn't convinced him. He was paranoid she'd read between the lines and discover he had spied on her and Hagrid. The eleventh letter, he was re-reading in History class, only to screw the piece of parchment.

Everyone around him began to tidy up.

Ten minutes.

The days kept passing. He shouldn't delay the apology anymore. But then again, what letter could he write in ten minutes? None decent enough if his previous attempts were of any indication. So he wouldn't write one. He'd write a note. He tore another small piece of parchment and reflected on the perfect sentence to write down.

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

Afraid he'd run out of time if his mind kept working but his hand remained immobile, he scribbled a simple I am very sorry. It was too short for her to guess he'd followed her, and Narcissa had advised him to be concise, after all (maybe not so concise, but it'd have to do). With a levitation spell, the note flew towards Skyrah. Only when she caught it did he realize the note wasn't signed. Stifling a groan, he laid his head on his crossed arms on the desk, eyes shut. She would believe it was a mistake, or a prank, or at the very least, become confused. The last thing he expected was for something to tickle his nose: a piece of parchment. His, with his written apology. He lifted his head to watch her: she was as still as a muggle statue. Holding his breath, he turned the piece around. On the back there was a message as simple as his:

I forgive you.

He smiled for the rest of the day. Even when he entered the infirmary to visit Lily, he kept smiling (and the infirmary wasn't a place one saw many smiles). Madam Pomfrey said so.

"You look happy, Sev. Did you make a new discovery?"

Lily was referring to his potions experiments. He didn't correct her. She wouldn't take it well if he told her what exactly the discovery was: Skyrah Riddle concealed her heart, but it was there, it felt, and it was beautiful.