Third Year, Part Two
"Please form a line." As opposed to his students, Professor Vázquez was able to ignore the disturbing noise coming from the coffin behind him. "Remember: the incantation is riddikulus."
The first to get in line were Potter, Black, and other Gryffindors who wanted to show off, no doubt.
Severus had had to face his greatest fear all his life. However, he wasn't ready to do so in front of an audience of which Lily was part. Severus waited so as to be the last student in line. With a bit of luck, the lesson would finish before he had had the chance to face his boggart and be subjected to humiliation. He hadn't counted on another Slytherin to employ the same strategy: Skyrah Riddle. They stared at each other: he with his hands in his pockets, she adjusting her ponytail.
"Ladies first," he said after clearing his throat.
"Thank you, but I don't mind being the last one."
And the last one she became when she positioned herself after Severus. Being the last or the next-to-last in line won't make a big difference, he told himself in a futile attempt to calm down. The closer to the coffin he got, the sweatier his armpits became. His father's voice was loud and clear in his head, deriding Severus. His skin remembered the pain of the blows. His smelling sense, the beer breath.
Afraid Skyrah had caught him cringing, he looked behind his shoulder. It was Severus, who caught sight of her cloak as she slipped out of the classroom. Everybody, including Professor Vázquez, was focused on the student currently facing the boggart. One last glance, and Severus skedaddled.
Footfalls guided him towards the fifth floor, where no classes were taking place. They were mostly reserved for extracurricular activities after the compulsory lessons. The sound of shoes against the floor halted all of a sudden. Severus stopped and listened closely for any clue that could lead him to Skyrah. A soft melody, almost inaudible, reached his ears. He took stealthy steps towards the source. The voice became gradually neat: a mix of sweet and powerful, with a raw edge, and warm at the very same time. A lovely contradiction.
"Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ral
Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Li
Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ral
Hush now, don't you cry."
He could see Skyrah now. She was in the Music classroom, leaning against the wall by the double bass, eyes shut, palm on her chest. Weren't it for the fact that merpeople couldn't cross-breed with humans, he'd have believed she was part-siren. She had both the looks and the singing voice to lure folks, magical or not, to please her whims if so she desired. His legs moved of their own violation towards her.
"Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ral
Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Li
Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ral
That's an Irish lullaby."
The last verse was still echoing across the room when the tip of her wand poked his chest.
"You shouldn't be here."
He flinched, more for her abruptness than for her wand. "Nor should you. Why did you leave?"
"None of your business."
"I'm scared of facing my boggart too."
She froze. For a moment, he wondered what she'd do.
Deny the undeniable?
Accept he was right?
Jinx him?
Tell him to go away?
In the end, she lowered her wand and asked him, "Are you afraid it'll be Potter? Black, perhaps?"
"I suspect my boggart is worse than them."
She gave him a slow nod. "I'm going to go to the headmaster's office to complain about Professor Vázquez's method. It isn't ethical to put us on the spot like that. My worst fear is mine to know; nobody else's. If you join me, Professor Dumbledore might be more open to offering an alternative assignment. Are you in?"
Severus pondered the question. Lily would see, if not today, the very next day, that his father turned him into a sniveling baby with one glare and raise of hand. The entire class would. Severus thought about his bullies, and the insults they'd come up with. Would they call him a wuss, like Tobias did?
No.
Severus wouldn't permit it. The marauders would still mock him for not being brave enough to face a boggart. Though that wasn't ideal, it was better than the other option.
Skyrah led the way with firm steps. By her serious expression, she wasn't looking forward to conversing with Severus. Too bad. He couldn't keep quiet. They hadn't exchanged words since the day he apologized to her with a hurried note. Who knew when he'd have another chance to talk to her?
"I'd have never thought that you sing."
She stopped dead in her tracks, which, in turn, made him stop too.
"You couldn't pretend you heard and saw nothing, could you? Go ahead. Spread the word. Tell the whole school that Riddle sings an Irish lullaby when she feels like everything is getting out of her control and she only wants her grandmother to hug her and make her feel safe."
Severus remained still, shocked by her attitude. He was used to a somewhat cutting, composed Skyrah that could be sweet and comforting at unexpected moments, not to the Skyrah in front of him, making big, sharp moves with her hands, and breathing raggedly.
"It was a mere observation," he said. "I didn't mean to offend you. I'm not planning on telling anyone. Not even Lily. I promised you I wouldn't gossip."
He didn't dare move as her eyes pierced him. The more Skyrah studied him, the more her breathing evened.
"Why aren't you making fun of me?" she asked.
"I know how it feels to be laughed at. You're one of the very few people who's never made fun of me. I wouldn't hurt you like that."
She resumed walking before yielding to her unexpected impulse to express her thanks with a cheek kiss.
Severus struggled to keep up with her. She was still taller than him, and, in her state of agitation, she was nearly jogging. It was obvious to him that she wasn't interested in chit-chat and wished to waste no more time. So why would she lift her hand but not knock on the door once they'd reached their destination?
"I shouldn't have lashed out at you. I'm sorry," she whispered, turning her head to him. "I was scared and embarrassed. Deeply embarrassed. I wasn't expecting anybody to catch me singing. I'd looked for an empty corridor on purpose."
"I forgive you."
The smile she gave him indicated she had caught the reference and was thinking of the written note they'd exchanged in History of Magic. The smile was of the unhappy kind that made him feel uneasy. Why was she so sorrowful? What had happened to her? Why did she feel unsafe?
Before he had the chance to ask her, she knocked.
Professor Dumbledore welcomed them with Honeydukes sweets which were declined. Severus pulled out a chair for Skyrah to sit on. She opened her mouth to tell him she could've done that herself and shut it before she formed any sound, when she realized it had been but a gentlemanly gesture to show he had truly forgiven her. The urge to kiss his cheek to thank him returned, this time, accompanied by fluttering butterflies in her stomach. Back when he'd smiled at her after he got Narcissa's book back, Skyrah had wondered if she might have had a crush on him. The answer was clear now: yes. She had. She still did. It wasn't a thought she was particularly enthused about. Apart from the fact that she couldn't allow herself to be his friend, his heart belonged to Lily. Focus, Skyrah told herself, sitting down with an uttered 'thanks'. It was still hard to ignore the unpleasant feeling that had settled in her chest.
"Professor Vázquez expects us all to face our worst fear in front of our classmates," explained Skyrah, once the rest had also sat. "Severus and I would appreciate an alternative. We are willing to do extra work."
"I see…" Professor Dumbledore touched his long beard. "Have you discussed this with Professor Vázquez?"
"Not yet, Sir," replied Severus, which Skyrah justified by adding that talking to the headmaster directly was the most effective way to deal with the problem.
Professor Dumbledore's eyes darted from face to face. Skyrah kept her chin up, her icy mask on. It made Severus wonder if the headmaster was a legilimens as well as an occlumens and was trying to enter their minds without permission. No eye contact hinders legilimency. So Narcissa's book, which Severus had finished a little over five months ago, said. Still unable to occlude, Severus pretended to be interested in the portraits decorating the walls.
"I will discuss this with Professor Vázquez. He shall offer an alternative for those who do not feel ready to face a boggart. Nevertheless, I encourage you to face it, if not in front of the class, in front of your Defense teacher or myself."
"I'd rather fail the subject."
Severus raised his eyebrows at her resolute comment. Skyrah hadn't explained why the notion of facing a boggart terrified her. It was equally intriguing and frightening to know that someone with an impeccable academic record would go to such lengths.
"As the headmaster in charge of providing the best education to his students, I must insist. Knowing your greatest fear is the first step to overcome it and, consequently, liberate yourselves."
Skyrah wrinkled her mouth. "With all due respect, my greatest fear isn't failing an exam or coming face to face with a bee or a vampire. I cannot speak on Severus's behalf, but my fear isn't something I can overcome."
"That is a strong affirmation, Miss Riddle, one I disagree with. All fears can be allayed. A boggart will not harm you. On the contrary, it will give you both skills you need to face the real thing in the future."
Severus listened carefully, still averting the headmaster's gaze. Would he be able to confront Tobias provided that Severus succeeded in facing his boggart first? Severus looked at Skyrah. Her pursed lips evinced she remained unconvinced, but then again, they already had the alternative on the table.
"Sir, I will face my boggart if only Professor Vázquez is in the room."
"I am glad to hear that, Mister Snape. Will you follow his example, Miss Riddle? Being brave is, first and foremost, a choice."
"Being brave could kill me, kill others," she hissed, ignoring Severus's small gasp.
"Your boggart will not kill. It can, and will, teach you how to handle your fear. I dare say you need it more than anyone else. Your boggart may not be him."
"You don't understand, Sir. I wish my boggart was him. I'll accept the alternative assignment. Thank you for your time and collaboration."
Skyrah was about to rise from her chair when the headmaster asked her to stay and suggested that Severus went back to class. Severus exited the office, shooting Skyrah one last worried glance.
"Is there any way I can persuade you?" asked Professor Dumbledore.
"Because of my father, I'm forced to put on a show every day. It's exhausting. I don't need you, headmaster or not, to pressure me into doing something for which I'm not ready."
"You should mind your tone, Miss Riddle."
Skyrah bit the inside of her cheek. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm just… scared. All the time. I need a break. A boggart wouldn't exactly help me."
"It is not my intention to coerce you. This is simply my last attempt at helping you see that avoiding your fear will not do you any good. Sooner or later, you will have to face it. It is safer to face a boggart than the real thing. I see your potential to be brave. You only need to see it yourself."
"You'd see the potential of another kind in me if you knew what I'm capable of, what my boggart will take form of."
"Perhaps. Slytherins are capable of great things. It is your choice to use that capability for good or bad."
"It doesn't feel like I've got a choice. Even if he hasn't imperiused me, it feels like it. The result is the same: I obey."
"Even that unforgivable curse has its limits. One can break through it. The time to make a choice will come. You have the capability of choosing well."
"Father believes he's done no wrong. I might choose something I believe is good when, in truth, it's bad."
"All your choices and actions will be guided by your biggest desire. What is it you desire the most, Miss Riddle?"
After a long pause, she replied, "I'm afraid my greatest desire is something I haven't acknowledged myself, something dark."
"What if I told you we can find out for certain?"
Professor Dumbledore stood and escorted her to the seventh floor. He began to pace.
"The Come and Go Room," she whispered when a door opened before them, and followed him inside.
It was not how she'd imagined it. Skyrah's mother had told her that the Room turned into whatever one needed. If that was true, Skyrah did not see how a clutter of dusty books, fanged Frisbees, cauldrons, helmets, and other ancient artifacts would aid her.
"You need to go straight and turn left at the goblet." He pointed to it. "The magical object you are seeking is wrapped in a blanket. It is large, oval. I shall wait for you here."
"Why aren't you coming with me?"
"What the object will show you is personal. I do not wish to intrude on your privacy. If you have not returned in five minutes, I will check on you."
"Why only five minutes?"
"The object can be addictive." Professor Dumbledore sensed her reluctance. "I will not allow anything bad to happen to you, Miss Riddle. You must agree to be obliviated afterwards, so that you remember the experience, but not where it happened, for your sake."
Skyrah consented to that and followed his instructions. It didn't take her long to spot the mysterious large oval object. She pushed off the blanket.
A mirror.
On the frame, she read, "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi." She frowned and inspected the image. If it's supposed to be magic, it's broken, she thought. Only the Skyrah in front of her wasn't frowning but beaming.
Her mother and grandmother emerged, making Skyrah gasp at the reflection. Her family gave her affectionate hugs and white roses Skyrah gratefully accepted. The vision appeared so real she could smell the flowery scent.
Tom came into view next. For the first time in forever, her grandmother was glad to see her son-in-law, and vice-versa. He kissed her mother, too, something Skyrah'd never beheld. Whereas most teenagers weren't particularly fond of witnessing such scenes between parents, Skyrah was elated.
"Daddy?"
As if he'd heard her and could see her outside of the mirror, he looked at her with so much pride and fondness that a watery smile spread over her face. The Skyrah of the vision grabbed his attention by telling him about the roses and something else that made the entire family chuckle. Still smiling, Tom put a hand on her cheek and spoke. Despite her inability to read lips, Skyrah knew exactly what the three words were: the same she'd longed to hear for fourteen years. As the girl in the mirror said the words back, Skyrah fell to her knees with a silent cry.
Five minutes had gone by. Skyrah was gripping the frame of the mirror, puffing. She'd covered the mirror up, but even then, she felt her father's presence, a loving one that made her feel safe, unlike the sort she was used to.
"Miss Riddle, we must return to my office at once."
It took all of her will and occlumency skills to let go and do as Professor Dumbledore had said.
He didn't speak again until they were settled in his office, far from the influence of the mirror. "If you believe disclosing what you saw might help you, I encourage you to talk to me. However, you are not obliged to do so. I would only like to know if the mirror has given you a reason to think that the path you will take is one Tom would approve of."
"I'm not sure." Skyrah hugged herself as she retold what the mirror had shown her. It was funny how something so beautiful caused so much pain. "What I saw is an illusion that will never come true. Father didn't only behave differently, he also looked different."
"May I ask in what sense?"
"Something causes his eyes to be red and his skin to be unnaturally pale, almost unhuman. My mother says he didn't always look like that, and that the more his appearance changed, the less she recognised the man she'd fallen for. In the mirror, he was cured of something that is most likely incurable. He'd punish me if he knew my greatest desire. Love is for the weak, he always says so, and it might be true. The mirror proves that I'm capable of doing anything to have his love. That turns me into a weak, highly dangerous person."
"On the contrary, Miss Riddle. You acknowledged that the vision is fake, something that will never happen. Your greatest desire is not for Tom to love you. It is for you to be happy. That is the first image you saw: your own persona, grinning. Right now, you associate your happiness with him. Regardless, a myriad of paths that lead to happiness exists. You can find happiness without his love."
"You seem pleased with what I saw."
"I am."
"You should be disappointed. Scared, even. I love a monster."
"Love does not scare me."
"I wish I could say the same." She paused. "You met my father when he was a child. Was he a monster already?"
"The orphanage's matron considered him a bully, though he was sneaky, and was never caught by her. She only knew he frightened the other children."
Skyrah let out a laugh, though it came out as bitter and mirthless. "I guess my looks aren't the only thing I take after him."
"I have met many bullies throughout my life. You aren't one of them."
"My former Ilvermorny classmates would beg to differ. I hated doing that. I hated myself. But I didn't stop."
"I gained the impression that Tom found stealing, giving commands, and instilling fear riveting, unlike you. In spite of that, I did not view him as a monster. I thought that his behavior was his defense mechanism, something that could be corrected. Growing up surrounded by muggles, he had been told that he was mad. He assumed I had come to take him to an asylum. Regardless, Tom did not believe he was crazy. He was convinced that he was special, superior. At Hogwarts, he was an excellent student, adored by my colleagues. I kept a close eye on him. I did not see anything alarming."
"He was pretending to be someone he wasn't as I do every day in this school."
"The reasons why you act the way you do have nothing to do with his. That in addition to your empathy prove that you will not be driven to darkness. Do you still fear you will make the wrong choice when the time comes?"
By the way she averted his gaze, she still did indeed.
"As I said, your choices and actions will guide you to your greatest desire: your happiness. Even if you cannot control Tom, you can control yourself. What do you need to be happy without his love?"
Pensive, Skyrah looked at Fawkes, which flapped its wings and chirped at her, still nothing but a chick. She had left Ilvermony after her first school year to start anew. Unlike Fawkes, she hadn't regrown from the ashes. Not yet. A part of Skyrah had died with the death of her muggle-born friend Faith: her innocence and hope for a bright future. Together, they would research History, complain about certain annoying classmates, gush over their mysterious young Native American Astronomy professor, make each other's hair, and belt to Nina Simone's hits. Skyrah had been happy in a way she feared she'd never ever be again. She'd been happy without her father's love. She'd felt free, even if that freedom had been but an illusion like the mirror's.
"I feel happier when I feel free. I need to prove to myself I'm capable of doing something good with my life despite my past and my blood. I need to stop feeling like I'm his puppet."
"Don't you think fear, the fear that's stopping you from facing a boggart, is making you act as his puppet more than anything else?"
"Did you allow me to use the mirror only to persuade me into facing that boggart?"
"It was one of the reasons. It is my belief that you'd immensely benefit from the experience. It would be the first step to prove to yourself that you can be free."
Skyrah breathed deeply, ruminating on his words for so long she was sure Defense class was already over and Potions had begun.
"Must a teacher, or yourself, be present if I give into this?"
Her voice had been feeble; her eyes, downcast. She was playing with a wavy lock of hair of hers. Nothing about her body language spoke of confidence, and yet, Professor Dumbledore's eyes lit up with pride the way her own father's had never done.
By the time she left the office, she had no recollection of the mirror's location.
Severus's instinct upon seeing that face glowering at him was to confine himself in his bedroom. He was in the Defense classroom, though, observed by Professor Vázquez. Laugh at him, Severus told himself. He isn't real. He isn't real.
"Ri-riddikulus!"
Tobias kept approaching him anyway. Severus closed his eyes as if the blackness he saw meant his biggest fear wasn't there. Like an infant playing peek-a-boo. But Tobias was there. His menacing steps were loud. When Severus opened his eyes, he imagined a ball (that of the sport his father watched on the pub's television while drinking cheap beer) colliding against his face, and shouted the charm clearly.
Crash!
Tobias's large nose was suddenly red, like that of a clown. The high-pitched squeal that Tobias let out as he landed on his butt made Severus laugh. It was a small but sufficient laugh. The whining boggart returned to its coffin.
"¡Bravo! Five points to Slytherin, Mister Snape."
"Thank you. May I go now?"
"Not so fast. That man resembles you. Is he your father?"
"Why?"
"A father as a boggart is not a calming thought, much less when you asked to do this only in my presence."
"My father wants the best for me. Disappointing him is my fear. The reason I didn't want others to see me is that some students sometimes make fun of me. I didn't want to give them another reason in case I wasn't successful."
It was a lie Severus had been practicing these past few days when he found himself alone, to make himself sound credible.
It worked.
"Of course. I apologize for the assumption. I didn't mean to accuse your father of anything grave. The headmaster would have already done something if a student were living under… harsh circumstances. May I know who bothers you?"
Even if Professor Vázquez stopped the marauders, the Defense post seemed to be cursed. He'd leave, like Lucius, and Severus would be left alone to face his bullies again. It would also give them another excuse to taunt him.
Do you need a teacher to protect you, Snivellus?
How pathetic.
"Thank you for your interest, Professor, but I can handle them."
Leaving the classroom, Severus had the urge to jump and squeal and run and laugh, but most of all, grin. The facial muscles stretched so much it hurt. It had been so worth it. He had laughed at Tobias. He had beaten his worst fear. Even though confronting Tobias for real wasn't safe yet, it gave him hope that someday, he'd be ready for that.
Severus spotted Skyrah in the History section in the library. When he found a place next to her, her posture became stiff.
"Can we talk?" he asked before she decided leaving was what she should do, as usual.
"This is the library."
"We'll whisper," he said, adjusting the volume of his voice. "My riddikulus charm worked."
She lifted her eyes from her book to the people in their library section (all distracted) and to his ecstatic face. His untrained grin must have been contagious, for she cracked one of her own even if it lasted for a mere instant.
"Congratulations." She meant it. Her eyes were kind, and she wasn't scowling. Her tone hadn't been sarcastic.
"You were late for Potions that day. What did Professor Dumbledore tell you? Did he persuade you into facing the boggart?"
"Yes."
"And…?"
She looked down at her book and read in hopes he'd take that as the end of their conversation. The problem was that she saw the letters but couldn't make sense of them. Soon she didn't even see the letters but her mother – who had come with Professor Dumbledore's blessing to be the supervisor – and another Skyrah, one unaffected by the blood soaking her hands, blood from another person. She heard herself chanting riddikulus unavailingly, saw herself being cornered by her inhuman replica until she was sobbing and curling into a ball. She heard a riddikulus from her mother, felt her arms around her trembling form, rocking her slowly and crooning honeyed words.
What happened in Ilvermorny wasn't your fault. You were just a child. Shh. I love you, my sweet girl. Hush now. You aren't like Tom. You won't ever become him.
"Skyrah, are you okay?" asked Severus, bringing her back to reality. "You look sick."
She took a shaky breath. "I'll be okay. I remembered the experience. That's all."
"You didn't succeed," he guessed, trying to sound as gentle as she had when she told him she wouldn't tease him for his crush last year. "It doesn't mean you aren't smart. Lily and a few others asked Professor Vázquez to let them face the boggart again. You might consider doing the same. You'd know what to expect."
She let out a mirthless laugh. It could be mistaken for a cry. "I don't need a boggart. I face my worst fear every day. Every day, I fail."
Severus frowned slightly. "Do you need to talk about it? I won't judge. I'll tell you about my boggart to prove I'm serious about this if I must. Nobody knows except for Professor Vázquez, and what he knows isn't the absolute truth. I haven't even told Lily."
"What makes you think I'd like to discuss our boggarts?"
"I… I thought it could help you, and I like talking to you."
"Well, I don't want to talk to you. I'm trying to read."
He winced. "I'm sorry I bothered you. I'll go to the Common Room."
Skyrah bit her bottom lip as she watched him rise from his seat.
"Wait!"
That grabbed the attention of all the students in the History section. Severus was just as nonplussed as those boys and girls by the grip on his wrist. Skyrah let go as soon as she became aware of the scene she'd caused. He wished she hadn't. Her touch was just as he remembered: very warm, pleasant.
"I didn't mean to be so rude. I'm just trying to…"
"Read," he finished for her. "I read a lot too. I know books are better company than me. You prefer solitude, anyway."
"Not always. There's nothing wrong with your company."
"Yet you don't want me here."
"It's not about what I want. It's about survival. You should be scared of me."
Severus narrowed his eyes at her. Her skin, though always pale, hadn't recovered its healthy color after recalling her boggart. The grip on her book was unsteady.
"It's you. You're your own boggart." Her round eyes confirmed his suspicions. "That's…" Terrible. That, however, wouldn't help her at all. Instead, he adopted a confident posture and said, "I'm not scared of you. You defended me and forgave me. You've never made fun of me. You touched my cheek and told me I'm not disgusting. You meant it. I know you did."
"Stop." She'd meant to be curt. Her tone had been nothing but begging. It must have been the reason he complied. "You can't think that of me. Don't you understand? If you continue talking to me, I'll hurt you. Even if that isn't my intention. Even if hurting you is the last thing I want. It'll happen. For your own sake, stay away from me. I don't care if you aren't scared of me so long as you keep your distance."
"Skyrah–"
"There's a reason I'm my worst fear. I won't share it with you, and I'm going to ask you to please don't tell anyone. You've kept the secret about my singing. You can keep this secret too. If you don't, I'll find out, and you won't like what I'll do to you. I won't like what I'll have to do to you. Just go."
"But you need help."
"Please, Severus."
At her broken tone, he hesitated but obeyed.
The very next day, Severus sat in front of Skyrah during breakfast time in the Great Hall. Not even a hello went past her lips. Her eyes were fixed on the plate as he tried to talk to her. He tried again, and again, in several classrooms, in the Common Room, in the greenhouses and school grounds. He tried until he got tired of being ignored and accepted Skyrah wouldn't talk to him. Not even Lily's smile had the power to cheer him up.
Skyrah's occlumency walls sometimes got knocked down. The sadness those eyes revealed at those moments was terrifying. He'd been right: something had happened for her to fear herself, and she needed help. How could he help her, though, when she did everything within her power to make as if he didn't exist?
Every year by early June, Professor Babbling gave third-year students the same task: their first translation of a runic text into English. Such text was a list of potion ingredients plus their corresponding quantities to brew a potion Professor Slughorn would introduce soon. Simple, but challenging for beginners. The task was to be done in pairs Professor Babbling arranged herself. Professor Babbling gave the last students a nod to indicate they should pair up. Warily, Lily grabbed her exercise and sat down beside her partner.
"It's got numbers," said Skyrah. "By the format, it must be a recipe of some kind."
Lily glimpsed at the runes. "You might be right."
"We should start translating to find out. Where's your textbook?"
"I forgot it."
The truth was that Lily had overslept, and, in a hurry, she'd taken Astronomy's textbook instead. If she'd thought Skyrah would make fun of her, she was wrong. Skyrah placed her own textbook in the middle.
"Thank you."
Skyrah didn't say a 'You're welcome', nor did she nod. Not that Lily was expecting Skyrah to be polite to her.
"I know most of these runes by heart. I'll translate the second half," Skyrah proposed, making a line on her exercise to separate the text into two clear sections.
"You trust me with the first half on my own? I'm a muggle-born."
"If you don't feel prepared for translating that on your own, we can divide our work differently. Numbers are easier. You could do those if you believe something else is too complicated. It is up to you."
"I'll do the entire first half. I'm surprised you've offered to do equal work. That's all. Aren't we supposed to do it together, though, rather than dividing the text and working alone?"
"We are supposed to complete the task. Neither of us would be truly comfortable if we acted on your suggestion. Am I wrong?"
"You aren't."
Skyrah started her part in silence, completely absorbed. Lily followed her suit. By the time Skyrah finished, Lily was still transcribing the last phrases.
"You got it wrong," interrupted Skyrah, pointing to a numerical rune in the textbook. Lily had copied the translation from the rune directly above. Realizing that, she quickly corrected her mistake and squinted at Skyrah.
"Have I got something on my face?" asked Skyrah in a bored tone.
"N-no. Just… Why aren't you calling me a fool or telling me I shouldn't be at Hogwarts?"
"Why should I waste my breath?"
Lily lowered her eyebrows. And to think that for a moment, she had believed the rumors about Skyrah were exaggerated. Now she knew for sure that Skyrah was like Malfoy. The only difference was that Skyrah wasn't so open about her views. Pretending that she sort of tolerated Lily was even worse than being straightforward and reminding Lily of her filthy remained silent until the very end of the class. Not even when Professor Babbling awarded points to them for their outstanding work, did she speak or smile. She tidied up in a rush at the end of the class, only to change her mind right after leaving the classroom. She blocked Skyrah's path in the corridor, her pose defiant.
Skyrah, other than raising an impatient eyebrow, did nothing.
"You know?" started Lily. "I intended to keep quiet, but I won't. I won't let people like you bring me down. I'll speak up. That comment you made was distasteful."
"What comment?"
"'Why should I waste my breath?' Really?"
"If it offended you so much, you should tell Professor Babbling. I cannot assure you that she'll believe you, though."
"Why not?"
"Have I done anything else that offended you in today's class?"
"…No."
"Well, then, that comment must have been a misunderstanding."
"It isn't. I know what you meant. You view me as worthless."
"Tell on me then. Go ahead. It'll be your word against mine. You might not lie. You're too Gryffindor for that. Unfortunately for you, I'm very Slytherin. If I need to lie, I will. Do you want to test how good I am at it? The fact that I'm Professor Babbling's favorite student doesn't favor you either."
Lily shook her head sadly. "I get it. You hate me, but everyone deserves respect. I pity you and those who think I'm inferior just because my family hasn't got magic. I hope you learn to be more empathic in the future."
With that said, Lily headed to the greenhouses for the last class of the day. She wasn't focused on Herbology and was glad when classes were definitely over. As customary, Severus was waiting for her in the Great Hall seated at Ravenclaw's table, neutral territory. Upon seeing her, he waved. Even from the distance, Lily knew he was smiling for her, and that alone bucked up her spirits.
"Hi, Sev."
"Hi. Tough day? You look tired."
"It's just… being a muggle-born is sometimes hard."
Severus tensed. "Has someone called you a…?"
"No, but as good as."
"If it's been one of my dorm mates—"
"No. Not them. It doesn't matter. I don't want to waste my time thinking about her. I want to spend time with my best friend. I lost the last time. It won't happen again today."
She was referring to their wizard's chess matches. A board was already between them. Severus had taken care of that beforehand.
"Someone's a poor loser," Severus joshed, hoping to distract her from her pain. Judging by her chuckles, he'd succeeded.
"I'm not a poor loser. I just like to win. I'll beat you this time."
"You've been saying that for years."
"I'll beat you," she repeated.
Albeit Severus didn't think so, it was fun to play chess with her and see her get excited whenever she managed to smash one of his black pieces, even if her move, in the long term, wasn't wise. She gave the first command.
For minutes, Lily's focus was chess.
The white queen advanced towards C3, stood up, grabbed her throne, and used it to hit the rook with so much force it collapsed. Lily squealed and teased Severus about his lost piece. Instead of more banter, all she got from him was silence. She followed his gaze, which wasn't fixed on the board but on…
"Riddle…" Lily whispered, shoulders stooped. "Sev, it's your turn." She waited. "Sev?"
"Sorry. Did you say something?"
"You've just lost your rook. You didn't even notice. You were staring at Riddle," she said, not in disapproval, but out of worry.
"It's just… She looks miserable today."
Lily caught sight of Skyrah, who was writing a letter. Nobody had sat beside her, or in front of her.
"She looks the same as always to me."
Much as Severus wanted to disagree with Lily, he scanned the chessboard to think of the most appropriate move. After all, he'd promised Skyrah he wouldn't gossip about her.
"Sev," said Lily, interrupting his thoughts. "Do you still want to be friends with her?"
"Are you still worried I'd start thinking like most Slytherins?"
"You share your dorm and Common Room with them. You sometimes owl Malfoy and talk to his fiancé, too."
"You're my best friend. We became friends before starting Hogwarts. We share all that, Lily. And it matters to me. You matter to me. A lot."
"You matter to me too."
Lily gave him one of her smiles. If he hadn't been enchanted by it, he'd have noted Skyrah had got up from Slytherin's table.
One last peek from the Great Hall door, and Skyrah set foot towards the owlery, wishing with all her might she were at Ravenclaw's table, playing chess with Severus and Lily. Nobody would know that. Not even her mother and grandmother, the addressees of her letter, would. In her letter, Skyrah had only mentioned that they needn't worry since she was doing everything possible not to let down Father. In actual fact, Skyrah feared that, someday, her Occlumency would fail her and Voldemort would find out she was his biggest disappointment. Faith's death had changed her, though not in the way her father had meant to. If he knew the real reason why she pushed wizards and witches like Lily away, he would inflict severe punishment.
"Three weeks more," she whispered to herself as the owl flew through the glassless window, towards the horizon. Eyes closed, she imagined herself flying alongside the owl, away from everything. One day I'll be free and happy.
"Counting the days until the holidays, Riddle?"
The unfamiliar voice startled Skyrah. "Black."
"It's good to meet you at last," Narcissa said. "I thought that you of all people enjoyed school. You are always studying and reading."
"What do you want?"
"Straight to the point? It is a nice change from my family. Very well. Severus mentioned you write a lot of letters. I figured I'd find you here. He's a good boy, isn't he? He's got a privileged mind and is devoted to those he holds close to his heart."
Skyrah stood still, stone cold. She was treading a ground full of obstacles. The tiniest mistake, and there would be dire consequences.
"I could help you," offered Narcissa.
"Slytherins don't help anybody unless we have something to earn, not when we barely know the person we supposedly offer to help. I'll ask again: what do you want?"
Narcissa smirked. "Lucius was right. Sharp tongue, sharp mind. I don't want anything malicious. My helping you might benefit us both."
"I seriously doubt it. I don't need your help with anything."
"I wouldn't be here if I thought my offer is of no interest to you. I saw you looking at Severus in the Great Hall before leaving. I've known him since he was eleven. He trusts me. I could help you befriend him. I've heard you aren't very good at making friends."
"I want no friends."
"If so, why did you look at him like that?"
"I was thinking. I don't understand why a Slytherin spends time with a Gryffindor like Evans."
"Lucius and I don't understand his reasoning either. Hopefully, he'll get tired of the mudblood. You are better suited for Severus."
"I'm better suited for myself. I don't want nor need friends."
Narcissa smiled sadly. "We all need others to survive. It's about choosing the right kind to surround yourself with. Severus can be good for you, and you can be good for him."
"You are wrong."
Narcissa shrugged. Somehow, even that gesture came across as elegant, coming from her. "You probably need time to see that isn't true. It's all right. You're highly intelligent. Someday, you'll realize I'm right."
"Why are you talking to me anyway? What would you have earned by helping me?"
"Severus needs a friend that can understand him well. I'm taking the NEWTs soon. I wouldn't like him to be accompanied only by that mudblood throughout the rest of his education. That isn't the right connection to make."
"You care about him?"
Narcissa turned to the left, where an eagle owl hooted. She caressed her familiar's feathers to avoid looking at Skyrah. "Severus makes me feel less lonely in this school. I'm used to being surrounded by my family even while staying at Hogwarts. This year I only had Reg. Sirius barely looks at me. Severus made it all better. Other boys come to me because of my looks, as if they had a chance despite my engagement to Lucius, or because of the power of my family. Severus comes to me for advice, or when he has a bad day. He asks me how I am, and he even offers to brew me potions if he notices I haven't slept well. He makes me feel important in a way others don't."
Skyrah's pose slightly relaxed. "Why are you engaged to Malfoy?"
"I thought you weren't the one to gossip."
"I'm not. I'm merely confused."
"Why's that?"
"You deserve better than him."
"Do I?"
"He speaks with an air of superiority. He seems to forget he hasn't got as much power as he believes."
"Oh! Lucius is quite arrogant at times, I won't lie, but he's got a soft side, too. He just doesn't show it much. As for your question, Lucius always knew he was going to marry a Black sister. Our families decided I should be the one. At first, I couldn't stand him. I'd avoid him in pure-blood balls, but for some reason, my attitude amused him. I grew fond of him. He didn't get tired of trying to make me fall in love with him. Somebody else wouldn't have cared. I'm excited about marrying him and having his children. Three kids, like me and my sisters. That'd be lovely… Have you got siblings?"
"Information is power, especially personal information. I'm not giving power to you."
"Spoken like a true Slytherin. I take it that you don't believe being friends with Severus would benefit you, at least, not as of yet."
"Your guess is correct. If you'll excuse me…"
She left before Narcissa could come up with an excuse to keep her in the owlery.
All the way to her Common Room, Skyrah's mind was occupied with thoughts of Lily, Severus, Narcissa, and most of all, of her Ilvermorny friend, and how much Skyrah missed her. Though dishonoring Faith's memory wasn't Skyrah's boggart, it came quite close. She had to face that fear every day, too.
"Riddle," greeted Mulciber, lounging on one of the sofas she'd meant to pass by. "Something on your mind?"
"Ancient Runes," she lied. She hadn't lied to Lily about her lying skills.
"Me too." He left his Ancient Runes Made Easy by Laurenzoo on his lap. "The exam will take place next Wednesday. I was reviewing the contents. I can't focus properly."
"You would if you went to the study section or the library," she replied curtly. "It's noisy here."
As if on cue, a group of teenagers slightly older than them guffawed. Most students were gathered by the different sofas, gossiping about classmates, and whining about upcoming tests and assignments.
"Studying isn't your intention. Don't think I haven't noticed you've been staring at me in class, Mulciber. If you've got something to tell me, I suggest doing it now."
Mulciber fidgeted with his tie, the only sign that she was making him feel nervous and slightly embarrassed. His tone was calm when he spoke again.
"You're right. Lately, I've meant to talk to you."
"Ancient Runes was your excuse to start our conversation."
"It worked," he said, not ashamed to see she'd caught him. "I asked in the past, and you've always refused, but I felt like trying again. Do you fancy a wizard's chess match? I'd like to have a worthy opponent. Avery and Rosier have stopped seeing its appeal. Severus likes chess, but he's with that mudblood. Speaking of, she didn't bother you in class, did she? It's quite unfortunate that Professor Babbling paired you up with her."
"We interacted as little as possible."
"Good." He opened his arms in invitation. "So? Are you taking up my offer?"
Skyrah thought of Severus and Lily, and how much fun they had seemed to have. Merlin. She'd yearned for that. Playing with Severus and Lily would put them all in danger, but Mulciber? Mulciber was the kind of student her father would recruit, a safe choice. If she were free to choose the connections Narcissa had mentioned, Mulciber wouldn't be part of them. But Skyrah wasn't free yet, and loneliness was harder and harder to take every day.
"A study break sounds like a wise move. Thirty minutes. If the match isn't over by then, I'll leave anyway."
Mulciber's eyes sparkled at her reply. He hurried to the cupboard with piles of board games and came back in record time, board and box with all the pieces in hand. They chose a small table by a Salazar Slytherin tapestry to play.
"I'd like to clear something up before beginning: I didn't only notice you've been staring at me. I also noticed the way you've been looking at me." His crimson cheeks were yet another proof. "It won't happen, Mulciber."
He gulped. "I meant to start off as friends since you are so… reserved. I didn't mean to start anything more serious, not yet, but I won't deny that you've caught my attention and I've thought about asking you out eventually."
"I'm interested in neither friendship nor dating."
"So you keep saying." Mulciber took a moment to compose himself and add, "Strategy is something all Slytherins value. Consider this match an opportunity to develop strategic skills, not an excuse to begin any kind of relationship."
"As long as you do the same. Pawn to E4."
It turned out Mulciber was a decent player. Skyrah struggled, but that was okay. The challenge was exciting, the perfect distraction. It lasted nearly thirty minutes.
"Chess must be the only thing I can beat you at," teased Mulciber. Realizing she didn't appreciate his tone, he cleared his throat. "Well played."
She shook his hand briefly. "Thanks."
"Would you repeat this? Not any time soon, but…"
"I might consider it."
"Brilliant."
"As a way to sharpen my strategic skills. Don't forget that."
Mulciber gave her a nod, barely looking at her. Feeling guilty for being so harsh, Skyrah helped him tidy up and offered to put the box back in its cupboard. If she'd caught sight of Severus waiting by said cupboard, she wouldn't have made such an offer. She made a point of acting as if she hadn't seen him and leaving once the box with the pieces and chessboard was in its correct place. Her plans were wrecked when Severus grabbed her wrist just like she'd done with him in the library.
"Please wait. I'd just like to talk. You haven't given me a chance to talk to you ever since I found out about your boggart. You can trust me. I've told nobody about that."
"I've got no time for this," she said, scanning the room. Most students hadn't taken notice of her and Severus. Good.
"It'll be a short conversation." He let go of her wrist. "You were playing chess with Mulciber. You've always refused when I asked you. You've never played with anyone that I know of until today. So why him? Why now?"
"Are you going to interrogate me again? Is that your idea of conversation? You were playing chess with Evans, and I'm not questioning you about it."
"Lily's my best friend. Mulciber…" A thought struck Severus, one that made him a bit sick in the stomach for a reason he couldn't understand. "Are you and Mulciber friends? Something more, perhaps?"
"Excuse me?"
"You shook his hand."
"I don't want a friend, let alone a boyfriend. He was polite enough not to make fun of me and praise me for my skills after the match."
"Polite enough not to make fun of you?" His lips twitched into a short, involuntary smile. Now that he knew she had nothing with Mulciber, he felt much more relaxed. "You lost?"
"This time."
"That's what Lily says, too. She has to beat me yet."
"I'm not her."
"No, you aren't." He paused. "I wanted to talk to you to check if you're okay."
"Why wouldn't I be okay?"
"You don't look okay." He wouldn't tell her she looked wretched and more so than usual lest she'd get offended.
She opened and closed her mouth repeatedly before forming the actual words, surprised someone would have noticed she wasn't okay or cared enough to ask about her wellbeing. How I look and feel is nobody's business but mine were the words on the tip of her tongue. If she'd been talking to anyone but Severus, the words would already be out.
"I'll be all right. I'm just a bit tired of school," she murmured instead.
"That's it?"
"No, but you needn't worry about me. I can take care of myself."
Assuring as she'd intended to appear, her sadness was everywhere: in her voice, in her gaze, in her aura. He wouldn't question her, though. The fact alone that she'd stayed and was talking to him was too good to be true. If he insisted that she needed help, she'd flee like a frightened bird.
"All right. I meant to ask you something else too. Lily was a bit upset today. She wouldn't tell me who's bothered her, but I know it's a girl. Would you, perchance, know something about it? If I knew the person, I could talk to her."
"You are talking to her."
He frowned. "So you really… You insulted Lily because of her blood?"
"You know what future Mrs. Malfoy and your dorm mates call witches like Evans. Why does it shock you so much that I'd be the one to insult your friend?"
If Severus was surprised by Skyrah knowing about his friendship with Narcissa, he didn't show it. "Lily said you didn't use that slur. Did she lie to me?"
"No."
"What did you tell her?"
"Something that made her feel small."
You mentioned someone named Potter. I guess he makes you feel small… Someone makes me feel small too. After the Sorting Hat's choice, I realized I'm becoming him.
Those had been Skyrah's words, back when they'd met. The notion alone of becoming that person had made her run away and cry. Now Skyrah was the one making someone else feel small. It made little sense to Severus.
"Aren't you turning into the one you didn't want to become by hurting Lily?"
Skyrah averted his gaze for a moment and rasped, "I'm not sure. I sometimes think that, no matter what I do, I'll end up like him."
"That isn't true. You don't have to make Lily feel like that. You could apologize to her."
Skyrah snorted.
"I don't like it when Narcissa, Lucius, and the rest call Lily that. They know. They try not to use that word in front of me, and I try not to bring Lily up when we talk. They reckon she isn't good enough for me. Many pure-blood families are like that, but they aren't bad people. They've always helped me. But you… I honestly thought you didn't really share their beliefs. Lily's done nothing to you. An apology would mean a lot to her."
"I don't regret what I did or how I made Evans feel. I don't think a hypocrite apology would mean a lot to anyone." Her voice had grown unemotional; her expression, impassive. His shock showed in his wide eyes. "I'm not the girl you think I am, Severus. I keep telling you. You just don't listen."
As she walked away, Severus couldn't help but notice an important detail: her sudden change of demeanor was a clear sign of Occlumency. The only reason he could think of why she'd have used it at that precise moment was that she'd needed to keep her emotions in check or even lie to him. She regrets what happened with Lily, he realized. That's why she looked so miserable today. Skyrah wasn't like most Slytherins. She just was determined not to show it. Now more than ever, Severus felt like he needed to figure her out and discover what the matter was with her. One day, he'd find a way to help her.