Fourth Year, Part 2
A stampede of students in search of the perfect attire for the Lunar Ball arrived at Hogsmeade. Severus kept bumping into students and the occasional villager. Luckily, the more he walked, the smaller the crowd became and the better he could breathe. Skyrah waved at him from a bench near the clothes shop they had agreed to go to, the farthest from the train station. The sight of her brought a smile to his face, one he wasn't aware he was smiling. Skyrah got out of her seat and gestured towards the door.
Before going inside, he told her, "You don't have to do this for me."
"On the contrary. Unless your suit's impeccable, Potter will mock you. We won't allow it."
"I can't afford something impeccable. I can't afford anything. Professor Slughorn or Lucius could lend me something."
"Potter would jeer at you for wearing the second-handed clothes Slughorn would lend you. Evans wouldn't appreciate Malfoy helping you out either. You don't have to afford anything anyway: the galleons my mother sent me are for us both, a gift."
"I'm not comfortable with considering her money a gift if I can't repay the favor. I could brew her something. Is there any lotion she needs? You could owl her and let me know. It's your mother, the one you write letters to."
"To her and my grandmother, yes, but she doesn't need anything. That's how gifts work. You aren't expected to give anything in return."
"I want to, regardless. I always brew the Malfoys different potions whenever they do me a favor. They don't ask me to. It's something I need to do to avoid feeling so…"
Though he didn't say the word, Skyrah intuited what he meant to say anyway. She suggested a simple photograph of them as a gift if he was so adamant to send her mother a present.
"She's curious about the 'mysterious boy' that's taking me to the Ball. But please don't feel obliged to do this. She truly expects no gift in return."
"Your mother isn't like your father, is she? She treats you well."
She nodded. "Do both of your parents…?"
"My mother's never laid a hand on me."
Yet, by his tone, his mother wasn't a caring parent. He didn't wish to discuss the topic anyway. That much was clear when he hurried into the shop. With the exception of a small group of seventh-year students who didn't know them, Skyrah and Severus had the shop virtually for themselves. Severus had never been in a place with so many clothes to choose from, non-second-hand clothes, on top of that. The prices alone made him feel dizzy. As lost as merpeople outside waters. That is how he felt. So when Skyrah declined the shop assistant's help for the time being, Severus asked her if that was a wise idea.
"Where would the fun be in letting him help us? Shopping isn't that difficult. We just need to pick something that makes us feel attractive."
In response, he gave a snort that told her the most expensive suit in the world wouldn't make up for his nose or hair or teeth.
Ignoring that, she asked, "What color looks best on you?"
"Black." In truth, he wasn't sure if it looked best on him, but Narcissa always said black is the most elegant color. He couldn't go wrong with that one.
"Tie or bow?"
"I wear a tie every day," he muttered.
"A bow, it is. It won't be black, though. Nor will the jacket."
"Why not?"
"Because I'd like to wear something a bit more colorful (vivid colors are more eye-catching, and we want Potter to see us). Our outfits should match."
"I'm not a doll for you to dress up."
"No. You're more fun," she said with a cheeky smile.
"You're incorrigible." He smiled despite himself. "Fine. We'll start with your dress."
So she headed straight to the purple section and began touching the fabric of different dresses, inspecting the quality, picturing herself in them.
"Skyrah, I'd rather you chose another color."
"Why? Purple has been historically associated with royalty and power. Don't you think it'd be a nice touch?"
If it weren't for her serious tone, he'd have thought she was kidding. Anyhow, Severus didn't fancy Black making fun of him due to the sort of color only someone like Professor Dumbledore and Lucius could pull off, no matter what Skyrah or History said.
"I'll pass."
She didn't insist. Instead, she turned to the reddish gowns. She pulled some out of the rack, inspecting them in detail. All this time, Severus stood in silence, watching her.
"Aren't you going to help me?" she asked at last, not annoyed but slightly confused by his attitude.
"I don't even know where to begin."
Skyrah's expression softened. If he needed some guidance, she'd give it to him. "You only need to pick something that looks nice."
"Everything looks nice here."
Her lips twitched into an amused smile. "Something really nice, then. Something really nice that doesn't look too tight or show too much skin."
"R-right," he stammered, trying not to imagine what Skyrah would look like in a tight, skin-showing dress, and failing. "Your criteria are sound. I should manage to find something for you to try on. I don't know if you share my tastes, though. I might pick something you don't view as nice, and I'm afraid I'd waste your time and–"
"You're rambling," she said, her grin of amusement enlarging.
He, much as he tried, didn't find the situation funny. Inwardly, he counted from ten to one, something Lily did to calm down herself. Skyrah must have noticed he needed a moment, for she suggested that he went to the cool tones section to pick a gown for her while she did the same with the warm colors section. Each would pick one outfit. If neither convinced them, they'd ask the shop assistant to enlighten them. He agreed.
Whenever a dress compelled his attention, it was too short, or completely backless, or showed too much cleavage. A few were so tight he feared Skyrah wouldn't be able to dance comfortably in them. He was about to give up when something glittery caught his eye. The first thought he had upon retrieving the special gown was that he was marveling at the night sky. Silver rhinestones, sequins and jewels occupied the bodice in a pattern of constellations spread downwards. The lower into the dress, the more dispersed the constellations became, turning into isolated stars upon plain dark blue tulle.
"Found it?" a familiar voice behind him asked. "It's a bit dark-colored but eye-catching all the same thanks to the silver details. It could work. My choice is in the changing room already. C'mon!"
He grasped a pair of dark blue kitten heels (the heels of which happened to glitter with silver) and gave them to her. Then he waited, pacing with his head down until she groaned.
"Is anything the matter?"
"No! Don't come in!" she exclaimed, having heard his nearing footsteps. He halted. "I've just discarded my gown."
"Why?"
"The shoes that go with it make me look like I'm stepping on knarl spines when I walk."
"I'll find you another matching pair."
"Don't bother. I don't like how the gown looks on me. It makes certain parts of my body seem huge. Transfiguration won't solve it."
By her tone, it was either her butt or her breasts which looked huge. Either case made him blush. He was grateful she wasn't looking at him.
Ten.
Nine.
Eight.
His blush was under control by the time he counted zero. One minute had to pass for his heartbeat began beating at a fairly regular pace.
"Do you need help with the second gown? Should I call the shop assistant?" he wondered, beginning to worry.
"No, thanks. It's already on."
"May I see you in it?"
He took her silence as a yes and stepped into the changing room. The room was spacious, with a large mirror in which he spotted her reflection. She was waiting for his approval in a slightly coy stance.
No words existed to describe her grace. His starry night gown suited her as if it'd been tailored specifically for her. It wasn't by any means a gown that was too tight, but it did hug her curves (especially her waist), curves he didn't know she had, always hidden beneath her uniform robes. Even though the gown was knee-length like the uniform skirt, he couldn't help but notice her legs, too, for once, bare, rather than in tights.
"What do you think?" she asked him, bringing his attention from her body to her face.
Merlin. She was gorgeous. He felt an impulse to kiss her mouth. It wasn't the first time he fantasized about kissing someone. He had always envisioned that person to be red-haired and green-eyed bar that one time after watching Lucius and Narcissa and this precise moment in the changing room. How he'd like to discover how it feels to kiss someone, to taste her lips, feel her respond–
"Has the kneazle got your tongue?" she asked, starting to get self-conscious.
"Y-you look… You are…" He cleared his throat, trying to get his stutter under control. Her gaze met his through the mirror. "Absolutely breathtaking."
"It's the gown."
"It's you."
A watery smile spread over her face. "You truly believe so, don't you? Two years ago, you were honest when you told me I am beautiful. You're being honest now."
"I've never lied to you. But I wonder why you said yes to someone like me. Merlin knows you could have chosen to attend the Ball with anyone you wanted. I wasn't the first to ask you."
"I choose you," she croaked, looking at him, not at his reflection. "I'm glad you asked me to be your date."
"I'm even gladder you said yes."
His bluntness and the shyness that followed, with him suddenly finding his worn-out shoes fascinating, inspired in Skyrah profound tenderness.
"Because you escaped my hexes?" she joked, hoping his mood would lighten. "And to think I was convinced you liked it when we dueled."
"I do. I merely expected you to rethink it and say no to me, but we're here. It's real."
"Of course it is. This gown is perfect for the Lunar Ball. We should find you a suit."
"The shop might have a matching one. Black and dark blue aren't so different. I'd wear it, if the suit existed."
"Now it is the perfect time to ask the assistant. I'll put on my clothes and pay for the dress and shoes. I'll meet you in the men's section."
It turned out the shop had a matching suit for wizards indeed. Everything was the exact shade of navy, except for the bow and buttons, which were silver. When dressed in it, he couldn't help but run his fingers through the smooth fabric. He'd never really worn anything so fancy, discounting some robes Lucius had lent him while Severus stayed in Malfoy Manor and attended their grand wedding.
"I look ridiculous, don't I?" Severus asked, stepping out of the changing room.
"Nonsense! You'll be turning heads," she said with so much honesty he almost believed it. "You could even…" She approached him, untied her hair, and asked, "May I?"
He nodded despite not knowing what her intentions were. When she touched his hair, he froze. A part of him waited for her to mock him for the grease, only for him to remember this was Skyrah. She wouldn't do that.
She began to comb his hair with her fingers. The sensation, though new, was so relaxing he was tempted to close his eyes. He would have if he hadn't been afraid of making a sound he'd regret. He clasped his hands behind him, equally pleased and awkward by her actions, as she finished tying his hair with her elastic and brought him inside the changing room so that he'd see the result in the mirror. Without the hair on his face, his nose appeared even bigger to him.
He was about to let her know when she hummed, "Perfect."
And he decided, right then, that he'd look perfect for her on the day of the Ball.
Soon they were back at Hogwarts, carrying with them bags of clothes they hid under their bed. Most students still needed to take the train and return to school. Severus and Skyrah took advantage of that by starting their eleventh dancing lesson, both wearing their new shoes on Skyrah's insistence.
"To get used to them," she had argued.
Hers weren't particularly high. Regardless, as soon as she tried to dance, her little progress evaporated. It was a miracle she hadn't sprained her ankle by the end of the first dance.
"I'm sorry," she said, barely looking at him. "I'm a lost cause."
"We've already got the clothes and a plan. You'll make it. Again."
Music filled the room, only it wasn't the previous piece. It was slow, too slow, the kind to which pairs hugged rather than danced. They looked at each other and blushed.
"I think the room believes I can't manage something more complicated than slow-dancing," she whispered.
"Are you okay with trying it?"
Surely, if she hadn't even wanted to be his friend, doing something normally reserved for couples in love would be out of the question. Not that he'd refuse if she said yes. She surprised him by putting his hands on her lower back and circling his neck with her arms. He took a big breath and began to shuffle. He was conscious of her breasts pressed against him, of the proximity of his fingers to her butt, of her breath mingling with his and her intent eyes on his. He was tense, and then she flashed him a sunny smile and laid her head on his shoulder.
He ventured to caress her back once he felt her fingers playing with the tips of his hair. Not even his greasy hair disgusted her. Before, as she tied his hair, he'd convinced himself she was doing it simply to see if the look suited him. There was a clear goal. Now there was no goal. She was touching his hair because she wanted to. As simple as that.
Skyrah didn't step on him, not even once. Then again, they were barely moving.
"I think we got the hang of it."
"Yes," she sighed. Her breath hit his neck, sending shivers down his spine. "We should try something more challenging next."
Yet neither changed positions when the slow piece of music reached its end. Why would they? He was touch-starved; she was friend-starved. Both knew it even if neither would admit it. He was afraid of getting attached to her touch only to see her go after the Ball, but by the four Hogwarts founders, how was he supposed to put some distance between them when she put a hand on his cheek and stroked it? He couldn't not lean into her.
In a moment of lucidity, she began to withdraw her hand only for him to murmur a please, and for her to resume her caresses.
"Severus, I think we're making a mistake. Our deal…"
"Is it unpleasant for you?"
"Not at all."
"If so, please don't stop. Nobody else…"
"I know. You don't have this at home, a bunch of Gryffindors delight in making your life a living hell, and the witch you fancy, your best friend, hasn't realized you need this. But I have." She stopped the caresses (which disappointed him) only for her to hug him. "I have," she repeated, rubbing his back.
Severus didn't understand why tears threatened to form in his eyes. He wouldn't let them fall. Tentatively, he moved his arms to hug her back, only to think twice and let his arms fall limp.
"You're allowed to hug me. It might help you feel better." In a lower voice, she added, "I need it too."
So he hugged her back and closed his eyes, trying to retain to his memory every single detail: from the warmth in his chest, to the gentle breaths she took, and how relaxing it was.
"You feel unseen by Evans, by everyone, don't you? But I see you. I see how self-conscious you are of your nose and hair and teeth. I see your extraordinary mind and inventiveness. I see your devotion to your friends and your inner strength. I see how uncomfortable you are when Mulciber, Avery or Rosier boast about their riches, and how good you are at catching subtle cues. You're the only one who notices when I'm having a particularly bad day."
"I never seem to be able to make it better for you."
She grinned ruefully. "You help more than you realize. I see how much you care for others, way more than for yourself. Even when I'm trying to help you see your worth, you're more worried about me than about yourself."
"I see you too."
Teary-eyed, Skyrah nuzzled her cheek into his hair.
Only a few minutes might have passed. Half an hour, perhaps. Neither could tell. Skyrah pulled back, only for him to yank her back into him. It was a quick movement. If she'd been wearing her usual school shoes, nothing would have gone wrong. With her heels, low as they were, Skyrah couldn't keep her balance, and somehow drew them both to the floor.
Half-sprawled on her back, she covered her face with her arm and groaned, "Bloody shoes! I knew it was too weird that I hadn't fallen yet."
Severus burst out laughing, something which caused Skyrah to laugh alongside him. Even when the chuckles stopped coming, she kept smiling at him, and he, in return, at her. Normally, his smiles showed no or little teeth. This one was broader.
"You should smile more often."
"My teeth are uneven. Nobody wants to see my smile," he countered, sitting up. She was doing the same.
"I do. Did you know that, even when you are down, you can trick your body into thinking you are happier if you simulate a smile? Smiling also boosts your immune system and relieves stress. It helps you live longer. It's easier to smile than to frown, so you shouldn't have any problems," she finished in a teasing tone.
"How come you know this?"
"I read a lot."
"About smiling?"
"My grandmother thought getting acquainted with the science of happiness would do me good, so she bought me a book about it."
"Did it work?" he asked softly. She may not have said the actual words, but if her grandmother thought Skyrah needed such a book, it could only mean the sadness he usually identified in her eyes wasn't a product of his imagination.
"Only a little. A self-help book isn't enough to help me entirely change how I feel. The truth is that these weeks with you have been the happiest in a very long time."
His as well, and so he told her. With Lily, Severus didn't feel as free and unjudged as with Skyrah. He told the truth more easily, smiled and laughed more easily, and joked knowing she'd understand his sense of humor.
Severus stood up and extended his hand to help her stand up, as he did after their duel. Although he didn't pull so strongly, she ended up putting her hand on his chest anyway. Rather than putting some distance between them, as she'd done after the duel, she gazed into his eyes. She looked at him like nobody ever had. It was a look he found hard to decipher, but he knew one thing: it made him feel good. The impulse to kiss her was back, and stronger than ever. How would she take it if he followed his instincts? Granted, they'd promised not to be friends, but they had held each other quite intimately, much more intimately than he'd ever held Lily. Skyrah'd have put an end to all of this if she were against it, wouldn't she? Perhaps she wouldn't mind a kiss, even if it came from him. She had said she was glad Severus had asked her to be his date, after all, and touched his hair without a trace of aversion.
The lights in the room began to dim before he went ahead, bringing some clarity to their situation in more ways than one. She took a step back. He waited for her to speak, the room so silent he wondered if she could hear his heartbeat, as he could.
What had just happened?
Whathad not happened?
"I should go. I've had a wonderful day, Severus. Thank you."
Her thanks were accompanied by a swift cheek kiss that made him gasp. She left just as swiftly, without looking back. Otherwise, she'd have seen Severus touching his cheek, as his twelve-year-old had done when she'd caressed his cheek, only now there was an extra silly grin stretching his facial muscles. Nobody had ever kissed his cheek. Not even his mother, not when he was old enough to remember it. Even though he didn't know what had driven Skyrah to thank him in such a way, he knew one thing: he had failed at not thinking of her as a friend, or else, he wouldn't find himself longing to be with her despite having spent the whole afternoon and evening with her already. He knew she had failed too, when in the following lessons she laughed freely with him, and grinned widely, and confessed that she wished their dancing sessions were longer. If it weren't for his fear that Lily would suspect him, he'd have granted her wish.
"I've got a present for you," he said after their last dance before the day of the Ball. "It's my way to thank you."
"I should be the one thanking you. You've taught me how to dance without embarrassing myself, not the other way around."
A brief, lopsided grin appeared on his face. "Perhaps, but you've been terribly kind to me, and I wanted you to know how grateful I am."
"Terribly kind, you say? I've been stepping onto your toes for days. I made you trip and fall… How many times?"
"None of that was done on purpose."
"Still, I'm not good at being kind."
"So you keep repeating, but you've never made me feel small. Ever."
"So you want to thank me for treating you like a decent human being?"
"I want to thank you for seeing me." Her expression softened; as did her heart. "I made the gift myself. You don't need it, but I thought that you might like having the choice to use it."
Encouraged by her curious face, he got a small crystal pot from his pocket. She took it, inspecting the substance inside: a white paste.
"I used griffin claws and spleenwart," explained Severus. "I discovered they produce the same effect as dragon claws. You won't be allergic to this version of Tolipan Blemish Blitzer."
The pot slipped from her fingers and shattered when it hit the floor. He would have cared about that if it weren't for her state. She had brought a hand to her chest, on her palpitating heart. Breathing was a struggle to her. He recognized the symptoms of an anxiety attack (he'd witnessed his mother suffering from one on more than one occasion). Albeit he hadn't mastered the art of Occlumency yet, he could handle the basics thanks to Narcissa, and that, to him, appeared like the most opportune moment to apply his skills. It wouldn't help Skyrah to see he was getting nervous himself. As calmly as he could, he instructed her to inhale and exhale slowly. Sweet words he didn't know he was capable of saying fell from his lips. She turned her back to him. He was scared of touching her, so he waited, and thanked the magic in the room that now had transformed into a house yard with rose bushes: white and red. The relaxing scent helped her take slow deep breaths. It seemed to work, even if she was still trembling when she asked him why he had made that potion for her.
"Years ago, you said that it made you feel bad, and that was why you never used it. I thought you deserved to have the choice to use it or not, like everyone else, regardless of your allergy."
"I'm not allergic to any potion ingredient."
"Oh. I assumed… I'm sorry. I should have asked."
"No. I'm sorry. I should've controlled myself. I usually can, but I…" She took a shaky breath and hugged herself. "I'm not okay."
"Let me escort you to the Hospital Wing. A calming draught would help you."
"Yes, it would. I'll go alone. Please leave."
"I can't. Not yet. Was it something I said? Did I do something wrong?"
"No, Severus. Don't feel guilty, please. The potion reminded me of something horrible, something I won't tell you about. You'd truly fear me if I did, and for a damn good reason."
The room transfigured the door, signaling he should go rather than pressure her. He was standing by it when he insisted that he wasn't scared of her and that nothing would ever change that. As he closed the door, the first verse of that Irish lullaby reached his ears.
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.
Skyrah felt overwhelmed and unsafe because of his potion. Although she hadn't put the blame on him, he did.
It was the twenty-fifth of May. The sun had already set. Severus was waiting by the Great Hall door, sometimes craning his neck, sometimes adjusting his silver bow.
"Have you got lost, Snivellus?"
"Why else would he be here, Padfoot?" said Potter derisively. His attire was of the finest fabric. Unlike the Snapes, the Potters had the money for such an expense. Though Potter narrowed his eyes through his spectacles at Severus's choice of clothes, he didn't comment on it. There was nothing to ridicule him for in that department. "Nobody would ever be his date."
Pettigrew and Black snickered. Lupin, too, although not as boisterously or for so long. Severus didn't bother replying. He let actions speak for themselves and pushed his chest out when he heard gasps.
"Is that Riddle?"
"That, Lupin, is my date."
"He's lying." Potter had to swallow his words when Skyrah took Severus's arm.
"H-how did this happen?" asked Pettigrew.
"The typical way. I asked her. She said yes."
The marauders gaped at the smirking couple.
"I'd assumed you'd go with Mulciber. Rosier or Avery, perhaps. Did they ask someone else? Is that why you are with Snivelly instead?" Black asked Skyrah in a mocking tone.
"I don't know any Snivelly," she replied calmly. "I had more than one offer. I could choose with whom to attend the Lunar Ball."
"And you chose him?" asked Potter with a snort.
"Why do you care so much about Skyrah's choices? One could start thinking you're jealous you aren't her date. I wonder what your real date must think of this," taunted Severus.
Of course, Potter had no interest in Skyrah. Still, the shock came so suddenly he couldn't retort at all.
Severus guided Skyrah into the Great Hall, leaving four bewildered Gryffindors behind. Potter composed himself and shouted after the couple, telling Severus that his suit didn't divert the attention away from his ugly nose. Severus paid him no mind. With Skyrah, he'd reached the conclusion that ignoring Potter (Quidditch star used to getting the attention he wanted) would irritate him intensely. It proved to be the right course of action, judging by Potter's glower.
The couple took a moment to admire the Great Hall, turned into a ballroom. The ceiling was charmed to show the real starry night and its astonishing red moon. The lunar eclipse was the reason behind the Ball; that coupled with the fact that today was the Astronomy teacher's sixtieth birthday. The food (tarts, pies, and biscuits) was moon-shaped, representing different lunar phases, planets, and stars. It was perfectly placed on one of the long tables. Most of the space was now the dancefloor, enchanted to illustrate the Milky Way. The musicians were tuning up their instruments.
"Those jam tarts look delicious," said Skyrah. "Nobody's eating yet. Do you think we can start?"
Severus raised his eyebrows and let out a half-chuckle half-sound of disbelief. "I'd have never guessed you of all people would have a sweet tooth."
Her cheeks suddenly looked like they had some make-up on when, in reality, she had restricted it to elongating her eyelashes and putting on some lipstick. She had also arranged her hair into a braided side bun decorated with small hairpins that looked like stars.
"I won't pretend to not like sweets and watch how Pettigrew steals them all from me. Oh, Merlin. Did you see his face? And the rest's… I wish I had a time-turner to relive the moment. It served them all right."
"What are you doing with Riddle?" cut in a familiar voice.
"You haven't told Evans?" Skyrah asked, alarmed.
"Evidently," he said as Lily and Frank Longbottom approached them.
"Are you dating?"
Severus blushed. The only reason Skyrah didn't was that she was occluding.
"We aren't," she assured Lily.
"Are you attending the Lunar Ball as friends?"
The pain and envy were so palpable one could almost smell it in the air. Frank put a hand on Lily's shoulder, perhaps to remind her that she had chosen him, not Severus. Poor Frank didn't understand Lily wasn't jealous of Skyrah because of her partner. Although Lily had addressed Severus, her eyes were riveted on Skyrah's dress. Skyrah didn't know how to feel, or if she should speak up. The wrap dress Lily was wearing, a brave testament to reclaim her muggle heritage as valid in a magical school, complimented her eyes. It was simpler than Skyrah's, but still prettier than average, and quite exotic, compared to the rest, if only because she was the only one in something muggle-looking. Her white go-go boots were most attention-grabbing as well.
"We are attending the Ball together. That's all you need to know for now. I'll tell you more tomorrow," promised Severus.
It wasn't an answer that satisfied Lily, but she wouldn't get something more elaborate from him, let alone from Skyrah.
"Tomorrow morning," Lily told Severus as Frank dragged her away from potential fights and towards the dancefloor.
"I gave you permission to tell her precisely to avoid a situation like this. Why didn't you?" asked Skyrah, not as a reproach but as an expression of concern.
"I'm not even sure what is going on between you and me. How was I supposed to explain something I don't understand?"
"What is it you don't understand? We made a deal."
"They were right, then. Nobody would want to go to the Ball with Snivellus."
"That's what they want you to think."
"Is it? Would you be here with me if we hadn't made a deal?"
No, she wouldn't, but she couldn't bring herself to say it and hurt him. So she reminded him they shouldn't be discussing that. They should be dancing now that the music was playing. He didn't like it, how she was avoiding the topic. He didn't like it one bit. But Potter was already dancing with a Ravenclaw girl Severus recognized from the Quidditch team, and the arrogant grin on his face seemed to mock Severus and tell him he may have a date but he didn't know how to treat her. So he took Skyrah to the dancefloor.
In the beginning, Severus and Skyrah were tense, thinking about the unfinished conversation. They began to relax the moment he twirled her, eliciting a surprised laugh from Skyrah. Soon, he forgot about everything but her and how lucky he was to be dancing with such a witch. She was beaming. She was laughing. And so was he.
"Potter, Black, Pettigrew, and Lupin think all the girls swoon after them and call you an ugly git when the truth is you're getting more looks than all of them together," she told him mid-fifth dance.
"It's the suit and the surprise of seeing you and me together."
"Suits only highlight the right features. They don't turn someone bad-looking into someone suddenly attractive." Before he could digest the implications of her words, she exclaimed, "Oh, there's the photographer! Would you like him to take a photo of us so that I can owl it to my mum?"
Since he did, they waited in the queue. It turned out many wanted to have something to remember the soiree. Balls like this usually took place only once per generation.
"Skyrah, did you go to the Hospital Wing yesterday?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry for what happened."
"Don't be. It was a thoughtful present. You should patent the potion for those who are allergic to the original one. A genius indeed."
And just like that, he felt a little better and less guilty.
"Wotcha!" greeted a young Hufflepuff photographer. "What kind of photo do you fancy?"
Skyrah and Severus agreed that it would be better for the photographer to take the photo while dancing, when they weren't aware of him and his camera.
"All right," he said, taking notes about the request. "How many copies would you like?"
"One." "Two."
Skyrah turned to Severus with a quirked eyebrow. "Two?"
"Can't I keep one?" asked Severus rather defensively.
"You don't need my permission for that."
"Two copies, then," the Hufflepuff said, noting it down on a piece of scroll.
Severus thanked him, starting to pull Skyrah back into the dance floor.
"Please make it three," she mouthed, putting up three fingers at the Hufflepuff, who crossed out '2' and wrote '3' on the scroll next to the phrase 'constellations couple'.
A lively dance later, and the beat changed; the mood of the Great Hall changed with it. Various couples retired to eat even if they weren't tired yet. Others stood awkwardly before deciding to continue. The lucky ones who were infatuated didn't hesitate at all. Skyrah and Severus exchanged a quick look before adopting the right position and following the slow music. She leaned into him so that she could half-lie her head on his neck and shoulder. It was so intimate, so easy. That Severus would nuzzle his nose against her forehead was natural. That she'd giggle softly and look up at him, too. They were so focused on each other, that their feet barely moved. They could only stare into each other's eyes, both equally fearful and excited to find something there, something that told them what they were feeling was reciprocal. It was a pity that an ungainly coupled nearly bumped into them, disturbing the moment.
"I see some people are just as clumsy as me," she joked, but he didn't chuckle nor provide an answer. "Is something the matter?"
"Lily isn't dancing with Longbottom anymore. You might have been onto something when you said she likes Potter more than she lets on. Look at the way she's looking at him and Chang."
Skyrah turned her head. Severus was right. Potter, too, knew he had Lily's attention and took advantage of that by making a spectacle to make Lily jealous.
"I'm sorry you ended up hurt anyway tonight," murmured Skyrah, holding Severus a tad tighter.
"I thought it'd hurt me more."
"What do you mean? Your crush fancies your bully. It can't be easy to take."
"My friend does."
"You don't have a thing for Evans anymore?" she asked lowly, as if afraid of his answer.
"Lily isn't the first person I think about when I wake up and the last when I go to sleep. She isn't the one who knows my deepest secrets, or the one I've longed to spend more time with lately. I wouldn't want to have this dance with her."
Her mouth was suddenly dry. "Is there anybody you'd like to have this dance with?"
"I'm already dancing with her."
She stopped abruptly, causing him to almost step on her feet for a change. Though she murmured his name, voice wavering, he continued speaking.
"I'm beginning to understand what you and I have, or could have, if only you dared. You make me feel good about myself. I forget about everything bad in my life when I'm with you. I have a big desire to see you, and to make you smile. Your smile is so beautiful. You always look beautiful, but tonight, even more so. Please don't occlude, even if you're scared of what I'm saying, of what I'm going to do."
The slow piece of music had come to an end. Most couples remained embraced, kissing softly. Others snogged, caring very little for those around them and whether they could see their tongues or not. Skyrah glimpsed at the couples and gulped. His smoldering black eyes darted to her mouth repeatedly. He hadn't released her. In fact, he was now cupping her face as if it were made of delicate rose petals. As he began to bow his head, she feared her heart would burst out of her chest. He paused, giving her time to pull back if she didn't consent to his kiss. It's dangerous, her mind was screaming. We'll regret it. Evans will freak out. I don't even know how to do this.
Then it happened.
Their first kiss had been brief, more an experiment than anything else, and her overthinking had caused her to miss it. Her lips tingled pleasantly. Her breath mingled with his. He was nervous. She could tell by his trembling hands on her face and his impatient eyes, watching her every reaction.
It was wrong.
It had gone too far.
Her father wouldn't be pleased.
Yet, she breathed, "Again. Longer."
A grin appeared on his face. It was the sort she liked to see from him: large enough for her to see the teeth he was so self-conscious about. She responded in kind. His eyes were the darkest yet the shiniest ones she'd ever seen. Then he closed them and molded his lips against hers.
Something fluttering and leaping in her chest.
His nose brushing her cheek.
His warm fingers tenderly cupping her face.
This time, she had time to feel all that and commit it to her memory. It occurred to her that she wasn't doing anything with her hands, so she put one on his chest, over his heart, and toyed with his ponytail with the other. Judging by the throaty sound he made, he'd liked that. The unfamiliar feeling in her chest flared up at his reaction.
And Severus? Severus was coming to terms with the fact that Skyrah had asked for another kiss. He'd never thought he'd experience pure bliss, but here he was. He felt like he was floating, like nothing and nobody existed but the sweet, affectionate girl touching his hair and melting into him. Kissing was better than his twelve-year-old self could have ever imagined. He wanted to keep holding her, kissing her, and being kissed back forever.
"Again?" he asked in a half-teasing half-serious tone when the kiss came to an end.
"Oi, that's enough!" exclaimed Potter before Skyrah could reply to Severus.
As customary, Potter was accompanied by his lapdogs. Pettigrew separated Skyrah from Severus, even if it cost him a shove in the chest that almost made him lose his balance.
"Get your hands off me, Pettigrew!"
"We're trying to help you."
"I don't recall asking for help."
"Because you don't realize you need it. We've been thinking about it, and only someone under the influence of a love potion would agree to be his Ball date," explained Potter. A bunch of students had gathered around them, more interested in a possible fight than in keeping dancing. "We stopped it before it went too far. We may not like you, but we dislike him even more."
She looked at Severus, silently asking him to speak up, to put them in their place, to kiss her again. Anything but standing there in silence, trembling in fury.
"He doesn't even deny it," said Black with a snort.
"Guys," started Skyrah, referring to Mulciber, Rosier and Avery, the three of them part of the audience. "You know he wouldn't do that to me."
"You're right. What I don't understand is why you attended this 'stupid ball'," said Avery in a suspicious tone.
Mulciber added, "Something made you choose him after rejecting other boys."
"A bloody love potion!" insisted Black.
"Do you even know how love potions work? I'd be unable to stop looking at him. I'd be obsessed! Read a bloody book for once in your life, all of you! And worry about your own love lives," she concluded, eyeing the marauders.
Their partners had got tired of them and were now dancing solo or with friends. Lupin and Pettigrew had the decency to blush.
"They're right. No potions were involved."
"Impossible, Moony!" whined Black.
Rosier rolled his eyes. "She's too intelligent to be drugged, and he's too intelligent to try to drug her in the first place."
"It has to be an act, then, an act to get Evans jealous!"
"Are you even listening to yourself, Potter?" Severus snapped at last. "Lily and Skyrah don't get along. What would I earn apart from another fight?"
"You tell me! Whatever you're doing isn't real. You're pretending."
"There are some things that cannot be hidden, not even with magic. But it doesn't matter. You won't believe a Slytherin."
After those words were said, the audience dissipated, disappointed with the lack of fight. Skyrah chased Severus as fast as possible in her delicate shoes and finally caught him in the corridor.
"Where are you going?" she asked, slightly breathless.
"To my dorm."
"Don't you want to try the food first?"
"They won't stop watching us and making us feel uncomfortable."
"If you leave, they'll win."
"Even if I stay, they'll have won. They've ruined the night."
"Only if you let them. The night isn't over. It's okay if you aren't hungry and are tired of dancing. We could take a walk outside."
"And then what? Don't you see? I was destined to lose anyway. Our time together is but an illusion. Tomorrow I'll wake up, and we'll make as if everything we've shared didn't matter, that is, unless you wish to pull out of the deal."
She averted his hopeful eyes. "The deal's important. I can't pull out of it."
"If it's so important, why did you let me believe we could be friends? Why did you let me kiss you?" He let out a bitter laugh at her reaction. "Here it is. Your Occlumency mask. I was starting to think you had forgotten how to do this. Am I to interpret the second part of our deal, that in which we must cut ties, has just begun?"
At the sound of footsteps, Skyrah took his hand to drag him away. Even while occluding, her touch was warm and gentle, and he found he couldn't push her away. She took him to the most private spot in the castle, the Room of Requirement, which turned into their mirrored-wall training room. With the door closed, her Occlumency mask dropped, and with it, tears began to flow down her face. He felt as helpless as when he heard his mother's sobs. Yet he didn't move.
"Was it a prank? Did you let me take you to the Ball and kiss you because of a prank?" he asked, voice trembling. He'd break if it'd been one all this time.
"No!" she cried out, insulted.
"If so, help me understand. Why act like we could become friends if you weren't going to pull out of the deal? I need to know the truth."
"The truth?" she croaked. "The truth is these past few years I didn't live. I survived, existed. But I didn't live. When the dancing lessons began, I began to let go, to live. Do you know how addictive living is? I wasn't strong enough to fight it, and when I made you smile or comforted you, I didn't want to fight it, even if I knew what we had wouldn't be forever, even if I knew I was going to end up in pain. My father is right: I'm weak and stupid." Before he could tell Skyrah that her father didn't seem to know her well, she added, "I thought you only had eyes for Evans. I thought that you wouldn't really hurt by the end of the deal."
"You were wrong."
"I know. I don't deserve to be forgiven, but know I'm sorry."
Severus frowned. "You're sorry you lived?"
"You ended up hurt because of it."
"I was the happiest because of it. For years, I've tried to get to know you, to figure out why you're so sad and pushing everyone away, and to make you smile. You were starting to be happy. Why renounce to that?" He grabbed her by the shoulders. "We don't have to hurt at all. Pull out of the deal. Keep living… with me."
She gave a sob that he'd always remember, one that shattered his heart, and let him catch her in his arms. The sobs rocked her entire body. Her tears, wetted his jacket.
"Please don't cry. I don't like seeing you like this. I don't know how to stop it." Because every time he dared to give her back a caress or even lay a shy kiss on the top of her head, she cried a little more, held him more firmly. In the end, she calmed down.
"We should call it a night," she said, breaking the embrace. Her voice was crystal, icy, calm. "From the moment we wake up, we won't ever bring up the Ball and everything it entailed, nor discuss it with anyone. We'll pretend nothing happened between us."
He snorted, "Don't I have a choice in the matter?"
"I won't use the imperio curse on you, but don't underestimate me. I'll obliviate you if I must, so that you cannot give any details."
He made a sound of disbelief, eyes wide. "You wouldn't."
"I would, and I will if I think it necessary to protect you from me."
"I don't need protection. I meant everything I said before I kissed you. You make me feel good about myself. Tell me, what is there to fear?"
"A lot. There are many things you don't know about me, things I won't tell you. Are you going to do as I say, or will I have to make you forget?"
He couldn't recognize this Skyrah. "Stop occluding."
"No."
"Stop fucking occluding!" he shouted, but she remained calm.
"If I complied, I'd break down."
That wasn't something he was looking forward to either, so he gulped, and begged, "Please don't obliviate me."
"I won't if you remember the deal and act in accordance."
"Pretending that nothing happened makes no sense when so many people watched us together. Are you going to obliviate them all? The whole school will know we kissed by now."
"If anyone asks about that, we'll tell them it isn't their business, or better yet, ignore them. They won't see us together. They'll assume it was something casual, or that we had a fight. Soon enough, a new scandal will break, and they'll forget about us."
He looked away from her, yet the mirrors reflected her image and reminded him of their lessons, of the intimacy they'd shared with gentle caresses, sweet words, and soothing hugs. How was he supposed to act as if that was no more real than a dream?
"I've screwed up, Severus. I'm trying to find a solution. If you can't do as I ask of you, I'll obliviate you. I'll obliviate you right now."
"No!" he snapped, and was shocked to find she'd taken her wand from a hidden skirt pocket and pointed it at him. Her gaze was determined. What else could he do but agree to her conditions? He was desperate; she, sick and relieved at the same time. The kiss that landed on his cheek was unexpected.
"Thank you. I know it's hard. I'm sorry I had to ask that of you. It wasn't supposed to end like this, but we can do nothing about it now. You have my permission to explain everything to Evans so long as she doesn't gossip about me. She'll want to know what happened to understand your choices. You must do everything possible to maintain your friendship with her. You can't keep me, but you can keep her."
"Lily isn't you."
"She's better than me, and she's been your friend for years. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin. Two against the world, against the prejudices. It shows how strong your bond is. The only reason you fight is she's afraid of me, and people like Mulciber, Avery, and Rosier. Show her you're her friend, and she'll return in kind."
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"I'll have Lily, but you?"
"I'll exist again."
"No."
"Severus—"
"I can't let you do that to yourself. What kind of life is that?"
"The only one I'm allowed to have. That's why I can't drag you with me. My life is no life at all. You deserve more."
Her words shattered his already broken heart, for at that moment he knew he was in love with someone who didn't allow herself to be happy, and he had no idea how to change that.
The day after the Ball, Severus and Skyrah didn't look at each other when they picked up the photo that reminded them of the truth: there had been something between them. It showed in their enthralled expressions as they slow-danced. Severus sat on the Hufflepuff table and analyzed every detail from the photo.
Somebody sat beside him. His hope surged inside him. Perhaps Skyrah had decided to trust him after all and to take up dueling lessons.
It was Lily.
"The rumors are true, aren't they? You two kissed."
"...Yes."
"So Riddle's your first kiss… So much for 'I don't have a crush on her'."
Rather than reproachful, she came across as disappointed. It was hard for Severus to take.
"You asked me if I had a crush on her years ago. I didn't lie."
"Would you have told me the truth if I had asked you recently?" At his silence, she muttered, "Figures."
"Until yesterday, I didn't even admit to myself that I…"
"That you've fallen for her. It isn't a mere crush." He looked so vulnerable, with his quivering lips and half-scared half-misty eyes, that she felt guilty she'd taken an accusing tone with him. She took his hand. His mouth parted in surprise. "What do you see in her? You don't even know her."
"I got to know her."
"These past few weeks, you weren't experimenting with potions. You were with her," she concluded, withdrawing her hand.
All this time. All this time and Lily hadn't noted yet how touch-starved he was. He almost told her. He almost told her that Skyrah had seen that after spending a few minutes with him, and frightening as the thought should have been, it wasn't. It wasn't because Skyrah never made fun of him. She'd touch his face instead, remind him that he's a good person, and even kiss his cheek.
"You deserve better than Riddle."
"Better than the girl who's never judged me nor mocked me? Someone clever and who makes me feel valued? She's the only one that makes me feel like that."
"You're in love. You see things that aren't there. I'm worried about you."
"Don't be. Skyrah doesn't want to be my friend. She was my date only because we made a deal."
"What does that even mean?"
"At first, I didn't want to attend the Ball. Nobody would have agreed to go with me anyway. They guys made me see that Potter would jeer at me if I didn't have a date. Skyrah can't stand him. We made a deal to teach him a lesson. It was business. It was supposed to be only business."
"Why didn't you ask me? I wouldn't have gone with Frank." As soon as she asked the question, she realized the answer, "You didn't want to go with your friend. You wanted a real date with your crush."
He shifted in his seat. "Are you mad at me?"
"No, but I wish you didn't like her. Just because she finally used some potion against her acne and put on a nice dress–"
"A potion?"
"Didn't you notice? Her skin looked flawless yesterday."
His mind reeled. The pot had been shattered, but he had left her alone. Maybe that was why she had wanted him to leave: to calm down, occlude, repair the pot, and use some. She had done it for him, to look her best and show Potter that Severus could get a beautiful date.
"You fell for a pretty face, just like years ago, with Narcissa Malfoy."
"Do you think me so shallow? I genuinely like Skyrah. I've never felt what I feel for her for anybody else, not even for—" He paused right before 'you' slipped. "It's new. I didn't know what was happening to me. I didn't know if she felt the same. I didn't know if she, or anyone, could tell; if it was good or bad. I was confused, but most of all, I was happy. Being with her makes me happy. She's the most insecure, stubborn person that I know. But she's also remarkably intelligent and observant. She knows how I'm feeling with just one look, and she uses her empathy to cheer me up and make me feel understood. She's got a contagious, playful side, and is thoroughly charming. She hides her heart, but it is there, and it feels so much; it holds so much kindness and affection."
"You're talking about someone who thinks I'm filthy."
"She isn't like you think, like everyone thinks. Look at her. Does she look mean?" he asked, pointing to the photograph.
"She's broken your heart and you still defend her? What kind of person makes a deal about something like a Ball date? It meant something to you. She's intelligent. She knew."
"It meant something to her, too," he whispered, tracing Skyrah's figure in the photograph.
"If she's so good and likes you too, why aren't you even friends?"
"...She's convinced she's dangerous."
"Do you need more evidence than that? Please stay away from her."
"I promised her I would. We're still friends, aren't we? Best friends. I swear, Skyrah didn't tell me to stop talking to you. She actually wants me to be friends with you. And so do I. I need you now more than ever. Do you think you can forgive me for not telling you what was going on?"
Lily stared at her feet for the longest time. Then, the corner of her mouth twitched. "I saw Potter's face looking at you two as you danced… It was worth it."