Author's note:
Trigger Warning: To arachnophobes, not a very detailed description but a description still of a spider in the chapter.
Thank you to those of you who show support to this fic :)
Happy reading
—
February 1943 - An Honest Meeting
"Your eyes meet in the silence.
The gaze requires no words at all.
It is an honest meeting."
- Open Water, by Caleb Azumah Nelson.
They met under the apple tree on that crisp Valentine's Day. She arrived before him, observing the couples who left the castle for a romantic tête-à-tête in Hogsmeade. She was lost in her thoughts, her arms wrapped around her chest to keep herself warm, her gloved hands stroking her arms energetically. She stopped when she saw him exiting the castle. He was as handsome as ever, his dark hair in the wind, nobly standing against the cold winter sky. She was relieved, suddenly, that he had suggested to meet outside, far from the nosy glances she assumed the other girls would have darted her. They greeted each other before she told him she was done with the translation. He nodded and he led her to a nearby building, made out of stone, where the school's janitor stored a pile of junk, heap of broken armours and old paintings. She spotted the pendulum against the wall once her eyes adapted to the darkness.
She watched the prefect pull one wobbly chair in the middle of the room before he leaned on a desk that missed multiple drawers. He asked her to sit down, which she did obediently.
He began to explain the alternative to the Boggart-banishing spell, or ridiculing spell, its pros and its hazards. She rested her hands on her thighs, playing with the rim of her skirt while she listened to his instructions.
It was strange for Annabel to be on the receiving end of the teaching, a dynamic the Slytherin had reinforced by sitting higher than the girl, forcing her to constantly lift her eyes to look at him in a way she initially found was slightly humiliating. Yet, she quickly forgot how awkward it all was as she was soon enough absorbed by his directions, which were clear and concise, and she acknowledged the ease with which Tom had slipped onto this new role of instilling knowledge in her, how the words came to him with ease, how accurate and detailed his references were. He was speaking with confidence, and she assumed his prefect's position had contributed to his general self-assurance. She listened religiously just as she did in class, and she found herself guilty to be pleased as to have the highly demanded prefect's attention all for herself. That thought surprised her, and she wondered in that very moment if she had not gone mental, scolding herself mentally for even thinking that the Slytherin spending time with her had anything to do with altruism. Indeed, Annabel had begun to realise, after Tom had expressed his desire to stop practicing with her six months ago, that what she mistakenly took for the boy's "kindness" a while back stopped where his interests ended, and she asked herself whether him needing her help for that translation had not been the reason why he had come to chat with her on the after-game party already in November, which she would never know for she finally had fallen asleep so promptly afterwards.
After long minutes of theoretical considerations, he asked her to shut her mind, to picture something less frightful instead. Annabel settled for a spider, something easy and disgusting enough not to require any ulterior justifications.
"Are you ready?" he finally asked, walking to the grandfather clock as she stood up.
The girl's stomach heaved when she saw the young man's hand seize the knob of the door of the pendulum but she bravely nodded.
A dark hairy creature, big enough to scare even the most audacious ones contorted its way out of the shadow, its gaunt legs tapping against the wooden chest.
She tried to fight against her dislike and focused with all her will power, shouting "Riddikulus" at the repulsive beast. A bold of lightning escaped her wand and hit to creature which began to spin in a ludicrous way before it ran back inside the pendulum in no time.
A victory smile showed on her face as she turned to the Slytherin, his tall silhouette standing in the dim light that casted the pale sun through the arrow split.
"That was easier than I thought" she piped, waiting for his praise. Yet, the young man only shot her a cold look before he reached for the door knob instead.
"Again"
She kept herself from rolling her eyes at the prefect's stern voice and readied herself to face the creature once more.
They went on for what seemed like ages, the Slytherin freeing the Boggart seconds only after the creature escaped, running away from Annabel's mocking tricks. She was fanciful, turning the beast in multiple colours, gifting it butterfly wings or a dragon's tail, growing the spider's hair so that the creature resembled a Shih Tzu. Yet, after the initial rounds, her creativity began to lessen, and she found the exercise draining and redundant. The ridiculing spell worked with less efficiency at each round, and slowly, shutting her mind became harder, until it became simply excruciating.
"Again" issued Tom for the umpteenth time once the Boggart finally returned inside the clock, only after Annabel had to cast the spell no less than four times for it to work. She dried her damped forehead with the back of her sleeve and shot the prefect a pleading look.
"Wait" she asked, her voice betraying her exhaustion. "I need a break"
She let herself fall down on the chair behind her, surprised by how much of a demanding tutor he was. He chimed in, refusing her the brief hiatus she so desperately needed.
"You won't be granted a break during the exam"
"I know that, but the examination board won't ask me to do it as many times as you just did" she ignored his remark with a wave of the hand before she placed her wand on her knees and massaged her cramping fingers.
"They won't, but stress is likely to diminish your concentration. You won't be feeling as rested in June as you do today so I'm bringing you to the right state of mind. Stand up" he issued and she pressed her lips together at his commanding tone. Yet, she did as she was told, and she tried to muster the remnants of strength she hoped she still had.
He opened the door and she watched the creature come out. It was larger, hideous. She wondered if it had always been so big or if it simply grew between each rounds.
She shouted "Riddikulus" with authority. The spider moved towards her, unbothered by the girl's desperate attempt at casting the spell.
"Riddikulus" she yelled once more, hopeless at the thought that her powers were becoming less effective.
"Focus" Tom lectured her.
"I'm trying" she snapped back and the spider's mandibles twitched dangerously.
"Riddikulus" screamed the girl as she stamped her foot in exasperation. Yet, the creature headed forward, preying on the Ravenclaw. Annabel tried again, failed, and stepped back. She felt the edge of the chair behind her knee, surrounded from both sides. She shivered and tried to cast the spell, to no avail, and soon enough, she was trapped. She closed her eyes, to distance herself mentally from the animal.
It was about to eat her alive, she panicked, wincing as she felt one hairy leg brush against the exposed skin of her forearm.
"It's all in your head Annabel. Shut your mind" Tom chided her sternly before she was pushed further against the chair, forced to sit down. She quivered, expecting the worst until the chattering sound of the mandibles stopped.
Silence replaced the swarming sound of the spider and Annabel opened her eyes ever so slightly to find that the creature was gone. Instead stood a human, in the middle of the room.
Annabel discerned the warm complexion under the pale flimsy fabric, which looked like a veil, partly hiding the person's face. She frowned at the virginal gown, at the bouquet of baby-breath the person was holding.
She squinted, assuming that her mind had given in, failing to conceal any longer what truly horrified her she and searched for the familiar features of her grandfather in such feminine get-up. Could she have possibly casted Riddikulus in her blank? She scrutinised the newcomer intently, before she noticed that their figure was much smaller than her late patriarch.
Her heart skipped a beat when she noticed the swollen belly under the dress before her eyes met those of the creature.
Grey like ashes, sharp like a blade.
Annabel gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth. In the distance, she heard the Slytherin call her name but she could not move an inch, like if she was trapped in her own body. Yet, when the Boggart shaped in her future self made a step in her direction, her body instinctively moved backwards and she fell from the chair. She covered her head with her arms, to protect herself from whatever would ensue before a voice spoke up in the distance, casting the Boggart-banishing spell.
When all was quiet, she uncovered her face, revealing the tormented look that was disfiguring her features. She shot a bewildered look at the young man who stood in front of her with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, Miss Selwyn. You're not scared of your grandfather. You're scared of getting married"
—
The hubbub of conversations was getting louder when the waiter made its way to their table, placing two Butterbeers on the wooden surface. Tom pushed one jug towards the girl who was slowly recovering from their former encounter.
He had invited her to take a stroll in Hogsmeade after they exited the storehouse, because it was still relatively early and he was wary of letting her on her own in such confused state. The worse that could happen would be for her to bump into one of their professor on her way to her dorm and have her faze raise unnecessary suspicions. It was strictly forbidden to enter the storehouse, and Tom did not intend to risk losing his hard won privileges only because Annabel might not hold her tongue. So he had invited her for a drink. He had expected her to refuse, for he doubted that she would accept to be seen in his company on Valentine's Day, but she looked so entirely exhausted that she seemed like she would have agreed to anything he suggested.
"Thank you" she mouthed lethargically as he paid for their order.
He considered her face, still abnormally pale behind the screen of smoke that filled the air. She looked worn out, her shoulders unusually bowing.
"Most people do not know what they're truly afraid of until they meet a Boggart you know" he reassured her before he took a sip of his drink.
He realised how exhausted he was himself as the cool liquid ran down his throat, deliciously soothing his thirst, somewhat taming the strange feeling he had undergone earlier that day. A singular sensation that had gripped him several times while he was standing in the half-light near the clock, watching the girl face the creature. Something that had resembled a need, a pull. An impulse to step in, with a force he had yet to experience. The desire to shield her.
He spoke, to distract himself from those pestering thoughts.
"I must confess you're a skilled actress. I almost believed you in November, when you said it was your own wish to get married"
She heaved a heavy sigh, looking away in shame.
"I'm trying to convince myself my lot is not that terrible"
"Why don't you simply tell your family you do not want to be wed?" he queried nonchalantly.
Annabel let out a small sardonic laugh.
"Right, I'll do that. Maybe I'll even succeed in convincing them that career-orientated witches are not the devil's reincarnation"
Tom picked an olive from the tiny bowl the waiter had placed on the table with their drinks and shoved it in his mouth.
"What are your parents like?" he asked, unimpressed by her sarcasm. She looked around, taking her time to respond as if she was searching for the right words.
"They pretend to be liberals… But in the end they're just as conservative as the Malfoys and the Blacks"
"Is that the reason why you're dating the Quidditch Captain? To upset them?" he could not help but ask.
She shot him an indiscernible look and he thought he had upset her, but she replied, her tone genuine.
"Partly. I also wanted to find out what it feels like to have a boyfriend"
"And?"
"Well I found out that to enjoy someone's company you have to admire them somehow. Sadly he has little to shine for outside Quidditch"
"Which you're not interested in"
She hummed, stroking the edge of her glass absentmindedly with one finger before she shot him a surprisingly intense glance.
"What did it show for you? I mean, the Boggart. What do you dread above anything?"
He drank a sip of his drink as he found himself hesitating whether he should tell her the truth. Lucky for him, the rational part of his mind took over and he chased away the thought, blaming the girl's good looks that unmistakably made him all affable and weak.
"Aren't you the one who said that fear is somewhat confidential?"
"I am, indeed. But now you know mine, and knowledge is power" she jested, perking up again.
"How clever of you to say"
"I take that as a compliment" she replied with a charming smile that rattled all of his previous determination. He could not help but run a hand through his hair, flirting with the urge to tell her, to engage in her barter of confidences, to concede to her curiosity like she had surrendered to his just now. He pondered over her words. He could lie, in theory. Nothing forced him to tell the truth. Such a thought lifted his mood, and he became playful.
"All right. I will tell you what the Boggart turned into when I faced it, if you tell me something in return"
"About?"
"Tell me something about yourself no one else knows"
Her jaw dropped before she shook her head, snorting in disbelief, yet he noticed she was concealing a smile.
"That is not how it works. You're cheating"
"I can't be cheating, I'm the one who decides over the rules, darling. Take it or leave it" he stated all cocky as he was, throwing another olive into his mouth.
She looked to the side, as if racking her brain to find something that she never dared telling anyone. Of course, he knew she would think of embarrassing things, even though he never asked her to. A trivial confession would have also done the job but he assumed that in such a state, Annabel would not think of skirting the rules and Tom awaited a pithy confession.
She winced at one point and he opened his brain, eager to peek through the girl's mind, curious of the memories she was going through in her head.
"You said no cheating" she objected with a disapproving glance that made him let out a small chuckle. Her thoughts would remain out of reach. How could he be seriously that curious of the one girl who mastered occlumency like if it was a child's play?
"Well, it is pretty hard now, since you already know about my deranged grandfather and my fear of marriage" she added before she peeped at him.
"So… I suppose the only other thing that no one else knows about me is…"
She opened her mouth and closed it, hesitatingly.
"I... I'm sort of…"
She sighed, as if annoyed by her difficulty at coherently phrase her anguish.
"The idea of intimacy makes me… nervous. Like, really nervous" she finally dropped, her face the same crimson as the seat booth behind her.
Tom raised a surprised eyebrow. Certainly his day was filled with stunning revelations.
He drank a sip of his glass, mulling over her words. He knew she was still a virgin, which he had learned from Rosier a few weeks ago, when he and his roommates were already tucked inside their beds, dozing due to the pleasant warmth that radiated from the warming pans the elves had placed between their sheets. Like they often did on the weekend, they talked about girls, Lestrange and Nott engaging in a fierce debate about the school's female students based solely on their physique. They reviewed them, house per house, and when they finally reached the blue and silver, Nott stated that Annabel Selwyn should have been a ten, but now that this Gryffindork was screwing her, she was clearly not higher than a five. Alastair had intervened, defending her mainly because he did not like that his roommates talked in such disrespectful fashion about his childhood friend. What he had not expected, though, was that he would be soon enough pestered by the intrusive questions of four nosy sixteen years-olds, forcing him to spill Annabel's secrets. No, the Quidditch captain was not fucking her because she refused to let him do so, despite how pushy he was, for he kept hassling her to join him in the prefect's bathroom every so often. Tom remembered that it had strangely pleased him, to hear that the boy was not getting his way with her… Yet, he had been far from assuming it was because sex made her uncomfortable.
"Why" he asked in a voice that betrayed his consternation.
"I don't know I just... I just cannot fathom how do others succeed to trust someone else so entirely as to be willingly... vulnerable with them"
He watched her play with the damp carton coaster that she had turned into a small pile of ripped pieces since she had broached the topic.
"You think I'm being ridiculous" she looked away, her cheeks still flushed.
"No" he replied, genuine. "I simply hope that you'll find someone that you trust enough to be vulnerable with, one day" he found himself reply softly.
"So? What are you afraid of?" she changed subject and he remembered that he was the one who had pulled out such secret.
He considered her face for a few seconds, the way her penetrating gaze met his, how he felt strangely lost within her eyes of a beautiful pearly grey.
Spontaneously, he decided to poise her confessions, not just the one of that very day but all of them, since that time in the woods when she had opened up to him already, when she had let him in.
He would grant her that.
And he whispered, his voice hoarse.
"Death. It's what the Boggart morphed into when I faced it"