2022
Hermione just felt... stupid. Very, very stupid for a woman of her age (and even though witches and wizards in their world were still very young in their forties, the imprint of Muggle society remained on her to this day).
After that evening of remembrance at the end of February, she seemed to have lost her peace. Starting with indifference, she moved on to understanding, then regret, and finally she became so engrossed in all of this that sometimes, when she was alone in the evenings, she would fall into a thick melancholy.
And what the hell was that? Delayed grief syndrome for a strange person, inspired by a story? With only Charlie's story!
It was really stupid. Stupid! Mourning the death of a person who left this world before the end of such a distant war. A person she didn't know. There was no logic or sense in it, damn it, the whole situation didn't involve her at all, but Hermione couldn't help herself. Before she went to bed, whether she wanted to or not, she found herself returning to this story in her mind, scrolling through the fragments and snippets in her head, told or overheard by chance, and for some reason it took up a little more space in her heart each day than it had yesterday.
The fact that she and Charlie had been working together at Hogwarts for six months now only made things worse. If he was still somewhere far away with his dragons and nature reserves, she might not have come up with anything. But Hermione did. She saw him, and she began to sense his mood as soon as she bumped into him with her eyes.
At lunch, even though he sat at the faculty table, he kept looking at the Slytherin table, at a certain part of it. And pray tell, how could she not think that it was Arrain, who must have sat there a long time ago, appearing in his thoughts? Or that more than once, as she passed him and Professor Snyde, or even Professor Haywood, Hermione would catch glimpses of what they were saying:
"She would say..."
"I remember how we were then... And she... Do you remember what she..."
"That potion that she and I...'"
Hermione didn't even want to think that a certain "she" wasn't Arrain Samudra. Well, there were several reasons for her confidence: firstly, intuition whispered. Yes, perhaps a somewhat dubious argument... But secondly, and more importantly, they were in the same year as Arrain, Merula and Penny, so who else could Charlie talk to them about, sighing sadly?
About Nymphadora Tonks? Rowan Khanna? Of course, a fair assumption, their friends missed them as well. But no, Hermione firmly believed that it wasn't about them at all. They spoke openly and frankly about other fallen people they cared about. About Arrain, for some reason - only among themselves and quietly.
"You haven't been yourself lately," Harry's voice comes through the fog of thoughts. Knowing of the family circumstances, he pulled one of his best friends in to clear his head, then dragged the second one out of school to have a cup of tea away from the hustle and bustle. "Is everything all right? Or is it because of the divor..."
"Because of the divorce, Ron and I have finally started to communicate, Harry. It's just... a sort of holiday," the woman chuckles.
"Then something else..."
"No, nothing happened. Really, truly, honestly, I solemnly swear that I'm up to good only," she puts one hand to her heart with a smile and raises the other in a gesture of oath. "The kids are fine, it's almost idyllic with Ron, I'm not sick and the world isn't falling apart.
"It's just..." he smiles, stretching out the word for her to continue.
"It's just... you know," Hermione tries to think of a way to explain the whole mess of feelings she's been brewing up so that it sounds at least a little bit reasonable, but she can't find the right words, so she puts it out there as it is, "we never really communicated with Bill and Charlie, and since we've been working together at Hogwarts, I've gotten to know them a little bit better. I mean, Charlie."
"And that bothers you?" Harry raised an eyebrow mockingly, to which she shook her head.
"Of course not. I was just thinking that they had a whole life before we met and we haven't even..."
"Maybe I'll surprise you, love, but everyone we know has had their whole life."
"Harry, you know what I mean!" she looked at him reproachfully from under her eyebrows, which only elicited a chuckle. "I recently managed to talk to both of them - accidentally, actually - and I found out... It would be better not to find out at all, to be honest, but still..."
"You're starting to scare me," the man laughed, looking into her eyes for a hint or a clue. "Hermione can't get to the point - nonsense!"
"It's just..." she exclaimed, waving her hand and becoming quiet again. "It's just... Charlie invited me - okay, I asked for it myself - to an evening in memory of one of his old friends. And on that evening I learned so much about her life that I still can't get it all out of my head!"
"For example?"
"She died just before the end of the war. She and Charlie were in the same year, but she was a Slytherin. There were some Cursed Vaults at Hogwarts and they were trying to find out about them... oh, Harry, it's a terribly long story!" groaned Hermione, folding her hands on the table. "Did you know Bill was in love with her? Well, probably..."
The question that tormented her from time to time flew out before she had time to think about it or bite her tongue, and the woman flinching again - well, a natural gossip and where did it come from in her? However, the topic had already been started and there was no point in remaining silent after what she had blurted out.
Harry raised his eyebrows in confusion - this was the last thing he had expected.
"So..."
"She was Charlie's best friend! They're still grieving to this day, Harry, it just doesn't fit in my head!" she said again in a stream, as if - although it was - it had been building up inside her for a long time, seething, bubbling over like fermenting wine, to finally burst out like a fountain. "And you know what else? She also worked for the Death Eaters at Dumbledore's request! She was Legilimens by birth, damn it, can you imagine?!"
"Hermione..."
"And Charlie... If only you could see how he suffers! Especially because he didn't have time to tell her how much he loved her while she was alive!"
"And he was in lov..."
"No, not at all. Or maybe he was, well, I didn't ask. But I thought now, Harry, you should know for sure how much I love you and cherish our friendship!"
"And I..."
"It just drives me crazy!" she blurted out in a rage, slamming her palms down on the table, causing the empty cup and spoon to bounce and ring. "I never thought Charlie and Bill would be so... so... devoted and deep, and... I mean, you know them - they always stayed apart, and it seemed to me they were so cold and distant, but they just!.. And I even talked to Bill, even though he was drunk, and maybe that's the only reason he talked to me, but... he's so grieving, if you could only see it, Harry! And Fleur! Do you even know why they divorced?"
"Is it really because..."
"I'm sure it was! Actually, no one spoke directly, but I'm absolutely sure that there was something between Bill and Arrain... no, not 'something', but SOMETHING," she emphasised the last word and spread her hands to her sides, showing volumes. And after a moment she sighed, trying to pull herself together. She had said too much, enough for three lives, though she had always despised gossip. "I shouldn't have told you all that. But I only told you because you will keep it a secret, right?"
"Of course," he replied in a calm voice. "But, Hermione, I don't quite understand why it bothers you so much. I mean, if we could help and fix something, then... But we can't."
"I don't know," Hermione shifted her helpless gaze somewhere behind him. "I feel like something is wrong and there's nothing I can do, Harry. It just haunts me."
"You're tired," he squeezed his friend's hand knowingly and smiled warmly. "I think you could use a rest. And somewhere far away from here, maybe."
"'Maybe. It would be nice, actually... As always, you look at the root, Mr Potter," a smile stretches her lips. "I just can't imagine how I'd live without you. Thank you, Harry."
For listening without judgement. For never looking askance. For always being there when needed, even when there is no time.
Hermione doesn't say it out loud, but the absolute love in her eyes speaks louder than words, and she knows Harry doesn't need words. Everything between them has been crystal clear ever since they were left alone in a tent in the Forest of Dean, lost and abandoned, it seemed, by the whole world.
If Hermione had been asked who was the closest person to her, she wouldn't have thought of it - Harry. Of course, Harry! In trouble, in excitement, in joy, in everything, Harry was the first to be there, the first she waited for. And then Ron, the Weasley family, her parents and everyone else. Not that she loved them any less, to be fair, it wasn't all about love.
And now that she thought about it, she couldn't resist drawing parallels again. Just as she and Harry were close, Charlie was close to Arrain, judging by his words and the pain with which he spoke them. If she had lost Harry in that bloody war twenty-five years ago, just as Charlie had lost his friend... Oh, Hermione's heart ached.
Damn it, just a mockery of herself...
And she also shut out every possible thought of Bill and Arrain, whose story is even more tragic!
1986
A smile pulled at the corners of her lips as Arrain sorted through the letters.
Bill wrote... a lot.
Though she had never imagined that after all that sad business with the Ice Vault, he would at least look her way, even if they spent the rest of the school year in perfect harmony. They had a great time, to be honest, not counting the headaches that bored holes in her temples in the last few months before summer.
Surprisingly, the first owl brought greetings from Britain at the end of the second week of holidays. It must have been a terribly exhausting day for Bill, because his parents had left him a six-year-old brother and a four-year-old sister, and they were off somewhere from morning to night. Bill painted it on almost two sheets of paper, and the bright imprint of a child's palm on the ink and the torn corner made it clear that he was writing right in the moment and in a hurry.
Whether it was because it was so cute, or because it was the first one, Era didn't know, but she read this letter more than the others. And she always laughed, especially when she replayed the scene in her mind where Ginny - Bill's sister - forced him to change her hairstyle every time Bill was done with the previous one. And Ron, the youngest of the brothers, used to run into the garden and start a fight with the gnomes, after which he would sob and show off his new bruise... And that's not counting his other brothers!
As for the rest, Bill wrote that he misses school and would like to see Era as soon as possible to practise and show off new spells, and also to find out what's going on with the other Vaults. He also promised to show her his favourite places in Hogsmeade, since she was going into third year and would be allowed to visit. Before that, all he could do was talk about Hogsmeade and treat her to Peppermint Toads at the weekends (Era, however, found this gesture of his terribly sweet and did not mind).
Arrain herself sweated over each letter, trying to keep the tone as neutral and friendly as possible, checking every word to make sure no suspicion crept into his mind, because... Well, she had something to hide - she had accepted her feelings for him last year, even though she understood that it was unlikely that anything would come of it. She's... a child to him, isn't she? He tried so hard to protect her during their "adventures", like an older brother, as if he did not believe at all that her age and abilities were sufficient, at least for self-defence.
Perhaps it was just her imagination.
But she didn't even dare to think about expressing her feelings. One day, after a concert by "The Weird Sisters", which she had helped to prepare, Myron asked her, when they had suddenly opened up about everything:
"You like someone, don't you, Arrain?" he smiled mischievously. The devil knows how he hit the nail on the head, even if Era herself did not really understand what she was feeling at the time. "Come on, get cracking."
And why did she just say that? After all, Myron had just said that he was in love with music, and she gave herself away with one of her thoughtful smiles and words: "I can understand..."! She could have just kept quiet, nodded, not looked so thoughtful, so that he wouldn't have anything to cling to, but no!
"Well..." a barely audible word escaped her lips. "Bill, I guess."
"Oh, the Gryffindor the girls are talking about? 'So kind, sympathetic, handsome,' he chuckled again. "Bill's really cool, I've seen him work in class... will you tell him?"
Era shook her head, putting cool palms to her flushed cheeks.
"No. And don't tell anyone, Myron. About Bill... I beg you."
"Don't worry, your secrets don't interest me much. But you would have told him anyway, you know, it could have been two-way."
It couldn't. She was absolutely sure of that.
Fortunately, as far as she managed to get to know Myron - and they studied in the same House, except that he was two years older - he really didn't care much about anything except music, so her secrets will remain secrets.
"She's too young," Bill thought, but continued to write long letters, missing her for some reason completely unacceptably much. "Two years difference in our ages is too much to even think about. She's too young," he assured himself before going to bed, replaying the moments of the past year in his mind.
But every time his gaze lingered on her a little longer than it should, it seemed he was looking at a person much older than himself. Whether it seemed so to him, or whether he wanted to see it, or whether her experience really made her grow up faster - he could not be sure, and yet... her views on many things were quite balanced and wise, and the ability to see the world from unusual angles, or to put herself in the place of others, added to her age in his eyes. He seemed to have learnt to see magic in the simplest things that passed him by when she simply poked her finger at them.
Bill felt so well with her, as if he were in the centre of a small, cosy world, quiet, full of fun, warmth and understanding, and she was the one who silently understood his unspoken thoughts. In a strange way, she was a friend now - surprising, because at the beginning of this school year he wouldn't have even thought about it, and now she was the one who fascinated him, who made him listen to every word when she talked for hours about anything, and the sun shone in her eyes, making her freckles even brighter.
So... comfortable, so close in mind - it was hard for him to believe that their acquaintance had been so short. He could hardly admit that two years ago he had been sure that he would never get to know her better, because he had not been particularly inflamed by the desire to get to know her. And now what?
And now something was stirring inside him, twisting under his ribs, and unfortunately Bill was not a naive fool not to understand the nature of what was happening. He liked her. He liked her, and each confession to himself was followed by a mental slap:
Era is too young.
A little over two months in a quiet Irish village among sheep and goats - that was her holidays, but Arrain was in no hurry to complain. Aunt Biddy was always off somewhere in the green fields from dawn to dusk, and she was left to her own thoughts, and even when their paths crossed - well, it was much more bearable to hear one person's thoughts than several, especially in noisy London.
It was easier to find out that it was someone else's thoughts that were crawling into her head, like bees for sweets, when she was alone with her aunt.
"Poor child, her mother is completely out of her mind!" - It was so quiet in the house that one could hear the splashing of water in a thin stream three hundred yards away, but she heard these words clearly.
"Her husband has disappeared, her son has disappeared, and she does not cherish the last child!" - Somewhere inside it hurt, and Era left the room, quietly closing the doors. Mother... Not that she ever really loved her daughter. To be honest, Jacob replaced both parents, all the holidays he spent tending to his sister, very young - she was only a year and a half or so when he went to Hogwarts. It wasn't Era's feelings for her mother that were hurt by her aunt's thoughts.
It was just that in two years, she hadn't come any closer to finding her brother.
"...mer holidays? Hey, Era, are you with us?" Penny looked at her blankly, waiting for an answer.
"Eh? Yeah... holidays," she nodded. "Holidays... not so good, to be honest. The Prophet wrote about what happened last year with the Ice Vault, so my mom found out about everything and... well, she was unhappy."
Putting it mildly. The list of sarcastic words that had been heard in her speech all along was replenished with dozens of new ones that made her skin crawl, but not a single tear rolled down her face, which, it seemed, only made her mother more angry.
"Anyway, I'm glad to be back at Hogwarts."
She looked around, trying to find a tall redhead among the students sitting at the Gryffindor table, but Bill didn't seem to be there yet. Despite the fact that she had spent the whole summer trying to calm the echoes of obvious affection inside of her, Era still winced: there was a painful sting in her chest. She really wanted to see him. She missed him.
But her friends, who had missed each other no less for a few months now, were chatting incessantly, bombarding her with questions about everything: from the broken wand and the book - Jacob's diary or something like that - found in the Ice Vault, to the Headmaster's punishment for intruding there. Speaking of the Headmaster... after a few minutes they had to sit down to listen to his speech. Immediately after the standard greetings, he looked at the students seriously and got to the point:
"As many of you know, last year Hogwarts was subjected to the curse of the ice that escaped from the Cursed Vaults, which you already know. Of course, this curse was only allowed to escape because someone wanted to get in there, so I urge everyone to stay away from such adventures!" he said, looking directly into Arrain's eyes. "As far as we know, each Vault contains a unique curse, and I will no longer tolerate the endangerment of my students and professors. It's true that the students who opened the Ice Vault broke the curse and saved the school. It is also true that they put us all in great danger. Therefore, I forbid any of you to search for the remaining Vaults - the punishment for those caught will be extremely severe, and even more so for those who have already been involved. I repeat, do not attempt to search or enter the Cursed Vaults! Now, please enjoy the feast! This year's pumpkin pie is especially delicious.
Oh, so... so the Headmaster was angry after all. To be fair, there was so much truth in his loud, deafening speech that you could scoop it up with a spoon. Yes, she was putting everyone in danger. And her friends, and gradually the whole school, even those who knew nothing of what was happening, suffered. Was Arrain ashamed? Extremely. Could she stop without finding out anything about Jacob? Too much had happened to put a period instead of a comma. She risked everything and everyone. Selfish. Purely selfish, but...
"And what should we do?" Rowan distracted her, and Era just shrugged:
"Carry on."
"Totally reckless and irrational," the friend chuckled, adjusting her glasses. "But I was really hoping you'd say that!"
Arrain smiled and put an arm around her shoulders. What would she do without Rowan?
After Dumbledore's speech, the students began buzzing and torturing the food, some leaving their seats at their table to join friends from other Houses, others, quickly fed up, huddled in different corners of the Great Hall, and the old problem returned with renewed force: the thoughts of hundreds of people pecking at her head from within, forcing her to press her fingers to the temples. It was hard to hold back a painful groan.
Things got worse when Ben, Penny, and now Tonks joined her and Rowan again - she had started to get along well with that girl, who was hungry for pranks and disorder, since last year. The conversations started up again more than ever, driving her crazy.
She didn't want to hear it all. She didn't want to know who on the Quidditch team had bought a better broom, whose great-great-grandmother had fallen asleep forever, she didn't want to know about the first-years' worries, and she didn't want to know that this year's pumpkin pie was really top-notch - she, damn it, couldn't stand pumpkin at all! But no matter how hard she tried, no matter what walls she wanted to put up in her mind to protect herself from other people's thoughts at her brother's insistence, it did not produce any tangible result. The voices dropped only a half-step, an annoying, monotonous gruel bubbling in her head, and then boiled up with renewed force, knocking a brick out of her wall with each word.
"Hey, hi there."
She nearly jumped out of her seat, turning sharply. Bill... The heart jumped, beating fast.
And the voices around her suspiciously fell silent. Either because she had suddenly shifted her attention, or because in addition to her friends, about a quarter of the Great Hall was staring at them, forgetting about dinner.
"I thought you weren't coming today. Hi," she broke into a smile as she stood up.
"I'd be happy to come with everyone if it wasn't for the Head Boy who dumped on me an..." - it was suddenly heard, and Era shook her head, pushing his thoughts away and quickly imagining a new wall.
It's not fair. Not. Fair! She shouldn't know everything that goes on in people's heads, especially in a personal conversation!
"I had to stay late," Bill finally says himself, without going into the details of his thoughts. "Shall we take a walk? There's a conversation."
It was completely out of place. No matter how much she missed him, all these conversations and generally more or less close contact with people... First, she should have dealt with problem number one, which the Vaults were temporarily no longer, but against her will she nods in agreement, not noticing the looks of her friends, and follows Bill into an empty corner of the Hall, collecting mental bricks in a pile.
"I notice that you've been appointed as Prefect," Arrain smiles, nodding at the badge on his cloak, remembering how Rowan said last year that people like Bill Weasley were sure to become Prefects. The guy just rolls his eyes:
"Well, I was proud of it until our Head Boy suddenly got sick and I had to walk the freshmen from the train to the lake and then from the lake to the school. Later, one of them got so nervous that I had to drag him to Madam Pomfrey and I didn't even have time to eat..."
Era chuckled and shook her head. The first year is always stressful, no matter if you are a freshman or a new Prefect.
"But the feast isn't over yet, why don't you eat something? Such an important conversation?" she bows her head questioningly, mentally adding bricks to her wall, which are knocked out one by one. Bill scratches his head and looks down awkwardly.
"Actually... to be honest, I just wanted to say hello to you first," she finally says, and her heart skips a beat again.
Well, how could you remain indifferent to him? Rowan was telling the truth, it wasn't for nothing that he was considered one of the most popular boys in school, because Bill didn't even do anything special to be so attractive, he was himself and that was enough. Just by standing nearby, Arrain could feel the displeased looks of the girls sitting nearby and could hear them.
"Is Bill interested in her?"
"Why the hell is that Slytherin girl even standing with him?"
"What are they talking about?"
She flinched as the wall suddenly collapsed, crumbling to the floor in an instant, out of control, and from the sudden pain of the attacking thoughts, she staggered, pressing her palms to the temples again.
"Era!" Weasley caught her elbow. "Are you all right?"
"I-it's okay," she managed to say, but her vision was blurring. Alarmed, Bill clearly did not believe her, especially when she began to sink to the floor and he had to support her under her arms.
The voices in her head crackled unbearably, completely disorienting her, and the light dimmed, finally isolating her from the noise.
Neither the panic in Bill's eyes, nor the friends leaving their seats, nor Professor Snape flying out from behind the professor's desk, nor Merula's frown - she saw none of it.
"...complained of pain last year, but the girl is fine, she is perfectly healthy. I used to think she was overworked because of her studies, but the children only returned after the holidays... Maybe we should have let her go to St. Mungo's".
Her head was splitting.
She was lucky there was almost no one in the hospital wing, except for Madam Pomfrey and someone she was talking to - Era could not open her eyes yet, because at the slightest movement, the pain from her temples to the back of her head stabbed her, she could only hear. Did she faint in front of the whole school? That was quite a scene...
The second person didn't say anything, but the sound of heavy footsteps approached her bed.
"Are you awake already?"
Oh, so that's who it was.
"Yes, Professor," she replied weakly and tried to open her eyes again, but the pain only made them crinkle, which only made it worse.
"Don't strain yourself, the potion should be working soon," Snape said. "What happened to you?"
"I felt bad..."
"Spare me the obvious," she might not have seen, but she could definitely imagine the professor's lips curling in displeasure, demanding: "More specifically. Have you been having headaches since last year?"
"Yes," she replied monosyllabically.
"Have you noticed anything strange?"
"Thoughts. I mean... you can call me crazy, but I started hearing... people's thoughts."
There was no sound from the side where Snape was supposed to be sitting. Era had already regretted several times telling the truth when, after a long silence, he suddenly asked:
"How does this happen? When the eyes meet?"
"No, it's just... being in the same room is enough."
"To protect yourself from mind intrusion, it is usually helpful to imagine a wall around you so that no one can get into your thoughts."
"I do that, but I would like... Professor, I don't want to get into people's thoughts, or how does that work at all?.. The wall doesn't help, it crumbles almost immediately, no matter how much I restore it."
Snape grunted and leaned back in his chair.
The more he found out, the more difficult it seemed to him to sort out the consequences of the 'gift' that had been unexpectedly bestowed upon the troubled student. To him, of course - who else would take it up? Dumbledore? Why, if there is Severus, all in debt and sins, who possesses mental magic, while being the Head of Slytherin, where Samudra was? It was obvious on whose shoulders the search for solutions would fall.
But he had never had to deal with something like this before.
The way to the girl's thoughts was almost impossible to find in normal times. Ever since the first year, her mind had simply mirrored Severus' own thoughts, like the surface of the sea on a calm day when he tried to look into her mind. He knew even then that he would have to deal with this personally later, but how to deal with the Occlumens? To show a few techniques for more thorough protection of consciousness is the maximum. But who knew that it would turn out to be a Legilimens? The most disgusting kind of Legilimens, by birthright.
It was strange even for Severus. He had never dealt with people who were simply given such abilities when they were born. The gift, however, was very dubious.
To understand what a person was thinking, he had to look for circumstances and make an effort. The girl, on the other hand, will have to do it by drowning out other people's thoughts, and this will be a test for many years, at least until she reaches the level of automatism. Whether automatism existed in principle in this branch of magic - the devil knows, frankly speaking, mental abilities were difficult to research and were therefore studied reluctantly.
"Well," he said again, "you are not mad. Mental magic is awakening within you. Unfortunately, you have the potential."
So it was true after all... Arrain finally opened her eyes - the unknown potion the professor had given her began to work, filling her head with coolness. She even managed to sit up.
"My brother said this could happen," she pursed her lips. "But he didn't have time to tell me what to do with it before he..."
...disappeared. And he didn't say anything about her being in pain either, however, this might not have happened to Jacob at all.
"Professor, is there anything we can do? I don't think I can continue to study like this."
"If you have enough strength to get up and walk, then follow me. Otherwise, I will be waiting for you in the morning," Snape gave instructions instead of an understandable answer. Era swung her feet to the ground. She got up, staggered, but seemed to resist and took a few steps. Maybe the effect of the potion was enough to get her to the dungeons.
It was just that classes started in the morning and she didn't want to miss the first day. Besides, friends probably couldn't find a place for themselves from anxiety.
As soon as they entered Potions class, Professor Snape led her across the room, at the end of which was an inconspicuous door. And behind it was an entire laboratory - Era gasped. While he opened one of the drawers, she had time to look around: high shelves crammed from top to bottom with flasks, cauldrons of all sizes, the work surface is a sight to behold!
" Sit down," the man nodded to the side, pointing to a chair in the corner.
And then the real magic happened before her eyes.
The Professor's skill with potions had always fascinated her. During the demonstrations at the beginning of each class, she would stand in the front row of students surrounding his desk, trying not to miss anything, writing down every little thing, watching every move. And here - a personal performance!
"Dragon's Breath," she read on the label as Snape loudly tossed the bottle onto the table and returned to his search. Almost immediately, two more appeared: the "Runic Silenica" and the "Silurian Mane". Era had been punished several times by cleaning and sorting in the storeroom - the other one, where they had worked out offenses with the whole company last year, and she hadn't noticed anything like that. The grass in the last jar glittered golden in the candlelight, in the first jar it seemed to evaporate, leaving a thin mist. Obviously, these potion ingredients were either personal or for older students.
Snape obviously did not want to waste the last tiny bottle - he turned it over in his hands for several minutes, looking at it - it seemed to Era that it was completely empty, but when the professor finally decided and placed it with the others, the remains of the powder at the bottom were barely discernible. "Zakkum root," she read to herself again. Unable to bear the silence, she asked:
"What is it for?"
"None of your business."
That was the answer, but Arrain, accustomed to the Head of the House's taunts, was not at all offended. Swinging her legs on a high chair, she watched as the crushed grass from the first three tins was poured into a tiny cauldron, followed by grains of Zakkum root - obviously the professor was very annoyed that his supplies were running out.
Anyway, he added some water and boiled the liquid, which he immediately removed from the fire. Then he poured it into a transparent container - the potion turned out to be black-resin and viscous. While it cooled, the man took out of a drawer a thin glass wand, one of those he apparently used to stir certain kinds of potions, and placed it on the table where Arrain was sitting. Moved the black brew there as well. Finally, he sat down beside her.
"Are there only your thoughts in your head right now?" he asked, and the girl nodded. "Fine. Bare your left wrist."
Era obediently pulled the sleeves of her cloak and shirt higher, placed her hand on the table, and tried again:
"What's that?".
"Shut up, for Merlin's sake."
She sighed - well, okay.
Snape dipped the glass wand, tapped the side of the bowl, shook off the excess, squeezed her hand tightly - apparently to keep it from moving - and began to draw symbols on her wrist. The potion did not burn. It was absorbed into the skin in black stripes, without spreading or losing color.
The professor wrote four thin symbols on it, then poured the potion into a clean vial, signed it, and placed it on the shelf.
"Try to concentrate on your thoughts and imagine an imaginary wall surrounding your mind. Think of it as something solid and impenetrable. You don't need... bricks. Pour cement, put up metal beams, if that means anything to you.
"I grew up in a Muggle neighborhood, so..."
"I deeply don't care where you grew up," the professor clicked irritably. After finishing the inventory, he returned and took a seat at the table opposite the student. "I will open my mind to you, and you will try to stay behind your wall and not stick your nose out."
Severus, of course, risked undoing the effect of the Occlumency in the presence of an insistent Legilimens. Minutes earlier, he had used runes to give the girl double the strength, both physically to deal with the pain and mentally to make it easier to control the shields - her situation is truly critical, and it will only get worse once she is back surrounded by noisy children. Saying goodbye to his own shields was an extreme measure, he felt weak without them, almost defenseless, but there was nothing else to do.
Arrain nodded and closed her eyes. Following the instructions relentlessly, she imagined high lattice beams around her and above her head, filling the empty space with a viscous, dense mass so that not a single hole remained. She opened her eyes. Met Snape's gaze.
And then everything flashed before her so sharply that she didn't even have time to come to her senses - one image is brighter than the other, and the professor was still a very small boy. A crying baby. A lonely young man. A man whose heart has been ripped out and trampled on.
"Direct the energy at the wall, not at me!" he growled, his every word angry, and Era was immediately pushed back out. Her head was spinning.
And a split second was enough to understand that what she had seen should not have been known to anyone, ever. The professor... he was almost the same age as her brother, and in such a short life... Oh, Merlin, how did she manage to get into not only his mind, but his very soul?
Severus clenched his fists, trying to control himself.
A complete failure. Initiative is punishable, so pay now with your own nerve cells, reassemble yourself in pieces after evoking memories that have been carefully locked away in a chest under seven locks for many years. His whole life flashed before his eyes as if he were on his deathbed, but not only before his own.
"Professor... Can we continue tomorrow? I'm tired."
The worst thing she could do now was to comment on what she had unwittingly witnessed. The only thing worse would be apologies and pitiful words, Snape would hate her even more if there was room for that hatred to grow, so Arrain thought it would be best to leave him alone for now.
"Go," came the dry reply. He didn't look at her. The tips of the man's fingers trembled, signaling the disaster that had befallen him because of her inability to control herself. She was ashamed. She desperately wanted to fall through the floor.
It is unlikely that the Professor will want to teach her now. Well, if he ever speaks to her at all.