Half a Life Without You
Chapter 25: " Secrets, Sacrifices, and Silent Promises"
Severus POV
The night air is cool as we step out of the flying carriage, its enchanted lanterns flickering softly against the darkness. The castle looms ahead, its towers silhouetted against the stars. I can tell Everly isn't ready to let the night end—not after everything she revealed during the ride back. She looks at me, her eyes shadowed but steady, and I know there's more she needs to say.
"Do you want to go back inside?" I ask, my voice quiet.
She hesitates for a moment before shaking her head. "No. Let's go to the Astronomy Tower. I need to finish telling you everything."
Her voice carries a note of resolve, and I nod, gesturing for her to lead the way. As we climb the winding staircase, her silence feels heavy but not oppressive. She's gathering her thoughts, preparing herself, and I give her the space to do so.
When we reach the top, the night stretches out before us—vast and still, the stars scattered like fragments of ice against the black velvet sky. Everly leans against the cold stone ledge, her hands gripping the edge tightly, as though grounding herself. She turns to face me, and in the faint starlight, I can see the weight of her secrets etched into her features.
"There's more," she begins, her voice trembling but determined. "I didn't want to overwhelm you before, but you deserve to know everything."
I lean against the wall, folding my arms across my chest as I watch her closely. Her braid slips over her shoulder as she shifts, her fingers nervously twisting the loose end. "Go on," I say softly, my voice steady, though my mind churns with questions.
She takes a deep breath, her gaze flicking to the stars as though drawing strength from their light. "I mentioned the portal, how my father used it to send me away. But there's more to the story."
I nod, urging her to continue.
"My father didn't create the portal," she says, her tone steady but tight. "It was the Ministry's discovery—an ancient artifact they didn't understand. It was meant to be studied, but they had no idea what they were dealing with." She pauses, her eyes shadowed with memory. "That's when he—Gellert Grindelwald—stepped in. He infiltrated the Ministry under the guise of Percival Graves, a man they trusted implicitly. He manipulated them into handing him control of the project."
Her words land heavily, and I feel the chill of their weight. "What did he do with it?" I ask, though part of me dreads the answer.
"At first, the experiments weren't his choice," she says, her voice tinged with bitterness. "Augustus Rookwood saw the portal as an easy solution for Azkaban's overcrowding. He started sending prisoners through it—people he deemed 'expendable.' They never came back, but Augustus didn't care. For him, it was about convenience."
I clench my fists, anger curling in my chest at the casual cruelty of it. "And your father?"
"He hated it," she admits. "But he didn't stop it. He let it happen because he needed Augustus's resources to pursue his own goal—proving his soul bond theory. He believed the portal could connect soulmates across worlds, that it could anchor people through their bonds. That's when he moved on to Sebastian and Sonja."
"He tricked them," she begins, her voice tight and trembling. The raw emotion in her tone slices through the stillness. "Sebastian and Sonja… they trusted him. He was their friend. And he betrayed them."
I watch as her fingers grip the ledge, her knuckles whitening as if holding on for dear life. She pauses, struggling to continue, and I don't dare interrupt. The flicker of pain in her eyes is palpable, a glimpse of the torment this memory brings her.
"He forced them to complete the Soul Journey spell," she says finally, the words spilling out like a confession. "Blood magic. It bound their souls to the portal. He manipulated them into doing it, made it sound like it was the only way to bring them back to each other. But I don't even know if it was necessary," she says, her voice wavering. "Considering how I got here, maybe it wasn't needed at all."
I study her face, trying to anchor her with my presence as she fights to put her thoughts into words. "And the pieces of the portal?" I prompt gently, keeping my voice low and steady.
She exhales shakily, her eyes flicking to mine for a moment before looking away. "I don't know," she admits, her voice breaking slightly. "I don't know if he used the same spell on the pieces he embedded in the walls at Hogwarts—or on the one he used to send my mother through. I'll probably never know for certain."
Her gaze drifts to the stars as though searching for answers among them. The silence stretches between us, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves in the night breeze. She swallows hard, blinking rapidly against the tears threatening to fall.
"When Sebastian returned," she continues, her voice quieter now, "everything had changed. To him, years had passed. He thought they failed to bring him back, that Sonja had moved on. So… he moved on too. He had a child." Her voice catches, and she blinks furiously, but a single tear escapes, trailing down her cheek.
"And when they brought him back?" I ask softly, already dreading the answer.
Her shoulders slump further, her hands clenching into fists on the stone. "He chose to return to his child," she says, her voice trembling with the effort of holding herself together. "It was… it was so hard to watch Sonja."
Her breath hitches, and she presses her trembling fingers to her lips as though trying to stop the flood of emotions. "She begged him to stay, Severus. She begged him, but he couldn't. He couldn't abandon the life he built in that world, even though it broke her heart."
I reach out, covering her hand with mine. Her nails are digging into the stone, her grip so tight it's as if she's trying to anchor herself in the present. "You don't have to tell me this if it's too much," I murmur, my voice gentle but firm.
She shakes her head, her determination overriding her tears. "No, you need to know," she says, her voice trembling but resolute. "You need to understand what kind of man my father was—the things he did in the name of his obsession. Sonja… she lost everything. And he erased her pain with a simple 'Obliviate.'" Her voice breaks, and a sob escapes before she can stop it. "Just like that. He wiped it all away as if her love, her grief, didn't matter."
Her anguish cuts through me, sharp and unforgiving. I tighten my grip on her hand, trying to ground her. "Everly," I say quietly, "he was a monster. What he did—it wasn't your fault. None of this is."
Her wide, tear-filled eyes meet mine, searching for something—validation, absolution, I don't know. "But what if… what if I'm part of it? Part of his plan? What if I'm the reason he did all of this?"
I shake my head firmly, my jaw tightening. "No. You are not responsible for his actions. You're here now, and whatever his intentions were, they don't define you."
She leans into my touch, her trembling fingers curling around mine. "It's just… hard to shake the feeling that I'm carrying the weight of his choices. That somehow, all of this will come back to me."
Her vulnerability strikes something deep within me, and I can't bear to see her like this. "Whatever comes," I say, my voice steady and filled with conviction, "we'll face it together. You're not alone in this, Everly. I'll stand by you. Always."
Her tears spill freely now, and she clings to me, her small frame trembling as though she's on the verge of breaking apart. And maybe, in this moment, I am the only thing keeping her together.
As she cries softly against me, I make a silent vow. Whatever darkness her father has left behind, whatever danger Voldemort poses—I will protect her. At all costs.
Everly's tears fade, leaving her calmer, though I can see the exhaustion written across her face. I hold her a moment longer, my arms encircling her as if they alone could shield her from the tangled web of her past and the dangers yet to come. The stars seem indifferent to the turmoil within us, their cold light doing little to soothe the storm raging in my chest.
But even as I cradle her, feeling her warmth against me, a gnawing sense of obligation takes root. The potions I've worked so meticulously to prepare—the Sun's Death and Lunar Eclipse Draught—are a key to my future, a potential pathway to standing out among the elite in potions mastery. And perhaps, more immediately, a way to ensure I stay one step ahead of the vampire waiting on me to deliver.
I hate to break the moment, hate to leave her after she's poured so much of her soul out to me, but the timing is nonnegotiable. I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of what I'm about to say settle like lead in my chest. "Everly," I begin, my voice softer than I intend. "This isn't the best timing, I realize, but I need to tell you—I'm leaving tomorrow and won't be back until the start of school." The words hang heavy in the air, and though it's only a week, the thought of being apart from her for that long feels like an eternity.
She pulls back slightly, her brows knitting together as she looks up at me, questioning and a little hurt. "Why?" she asks, her voice tinged with surprise.
My instinct is to offer a familiar lie, the kind that slips easily from my tongue after years of practice. But as I meet her gaze, the raw honesty she's shared tonight weighs heavily on my conscience. She deserves the truth—or at least as much of it as I can give her without adding to her burden.
"It's my mum," I say finally, the excuse half-true and fully rehearsed. "She needs help with a few things before the school year begins." It's not a complete fabrication; I do plan to stop there for my first night away, to help her. But the real purpose of my trip looms just beneath the surface. "I won't be able to come and go as I did over the summer," I add, letting that truth settle between us. This is my last opportunity before Christmas break to finish brewing the potions at Lucius's, and I know Lucius wouldn't want me interfering with his winter holiday.
Her expression softens slightly, but the hurt lingers in her eyes. "You could have told me earlier," she says gently.
"I planned to," I admit, offering a self-deprecating laugh. "But… other things came up." The understatement feels almost absurd given the night's revelations.
Her silence stretches between us, and for a moment, I consider calling the whole trip off. Perhaps I could brew just the Lunar Eclipse Draught for the vampire and delay the Sun's Death until later. But the ambition that has driven me for so long—a desperate need to prove myself, to secure my future—pushes back against the thought. The Dark Lord's growing interest in Everly also nags at the edges of my mind, a reminder that appearing steadfast in my loyalties might be the only way to protect her in the long run.
"Perhaps I don't need to be away the whole week," I offer, the words slipping out before I can stop them. "I'll work quickly, focus on just the essentials…"
Before I can finish, she presses a finger to my lips, silencing me. The gesture is tender, but her eyes hold a quiet strength. She leans up, her lips brushing mine in a kiss that is soft but full of understanding. When she pulls back, her voice is steady. "It's okay, Severus. I'll be safe here."
Her trust in me only deepens my guilt, but I nod regardless, swallowing the protest that rises in my throat. The truth is, I want to go. I want to brew those potions, to secure my future, and, selfishly, to ensure I'm not indebted to a vampire who might someday come to collect. They're patient creatures, yes, but their debts are as unshakable as iron chains. And there's another reason—one I haven't voiced, even to myself. If I can learn more of what the Dark Lord knows—or thinks he knows—about Everly, it might give me an edge, a way to protect her.
"Thank you for understanding," I say quietly, my voice tinged with both gratitude and self-loathing. Her faith in me feels undeserved, a fragile thing that I fear I'll break with my half-truths and withheld confessions.
I think back to the gleam in the Dark Lord's eyes when he looked at Everly, the predator's gaze that stripped away pretense and exposed her as a prize to be claimed. That moment solidified something in me, a resolve I didn't fully understand until now. I may have once wavered in my loyalties, but not anymore. Not when it comes to her. I'll navigate the treacherous waters of this double life—brew for vampires, walk among Death Eaters, endure the Dark Lord's scrutiny—all to keep her safe.
Her voice pulls me from my thoughts. "You're sure it can't wait?"
I look at her, the question tugging at something deep in my chest. "If it could, I wouldn't go," I say truthfully. "But when I come back, I'll make it up to you. I promise."
Her smile is faint but genuine, and she squeezes my hand. "Just… be careful."
"I will," I assure her, though the weight of the promise feels heavy as I kiss her one last time before we descend the stairs. Inwardly, I vow to protect her at all costs—from Voldemort, from Grindelwald's legacy, from anything that dares to threaten her. Whatever it takes, she'll be safe. Even if it means losing everything else.