"Are you sure you don't want us to stay?" Hermione asked for what must've been the hundred and eighty-third time.
She glanced fretfully at Ariel before turning back to Ron, who looked torn. They'd made up for the sole purpose of feeling sorry for her, and she hated it. Today was the first Hogsmeade visit of term, and just about everyone but Ariel was going.
"It's alright," she said, even though it was very much not.
Ariel was already in quite a miserable mood. Lavender had been crying all morning over her dead rabbit — Binky was its name — and while Parvati had tried consoling her, they'd both nearly gone hysterical when Ariel had walked in. Professor Trelawney's prediction about something terrible happening that day had come true, apparently, and according to them, Ariel's grim demise wasn't a matter of if, but a matter of when.
Hermione had only made it worse by calling the entire thing a coincidence. Ariel had practically had to drag her out of their dormitory to avoid a cat fight (not involving Crookshanks, who had been suspiciously absent).
Then, to top it all off, today was Halloween — Ariel's least favorite day as of two years ago — and it hadn't exactly had a stellar track record since she'd come to Hogwarts.
She was determined not to let her bitterness at being left behind ruin Ron and Hermione's fun, but it was difficult when all she wanted was to be a normal student going on a normal visit to the village with her friends. Of course, it could never have been that easy for her — she had a homicidal maniac after her, because that was how every year seemed to be going so far.
At least there hadn't been any mysterious voices this year. She had that going for her, at the very least.
Ariel knew it was stupid, but she hated Sirius Black for ruining her chances of going more than anything. She would've faced off with him right then and given him a run for his money, that was how bloody angry she was.
Ron grimaced, looking over his shoulder as the rest of the students began filtering out. "Can you ask again? It wouldn't hurt."
"I think it would," she shot a glance at Professor McGonagall, who had already shut down her plea during class earlier that week. She'd been very strange about it, too — probably because the last time they'd discussed it, she'd tried to blame Snape. The whole thing made Ariel feel very stupid, now.
Snape had told her she could go to Hogsmeade if she successfully repelled him from her mind during Occlumency lessons at least once. Needless to say, he'd kicked her out a little after midnight the night prior after she'd refused to give in, desperate to be able to go with her friends today. Even if Ariel had managed some semblance of success, Snape had essentially told her that she had a better chance of convincing the giant squid to give her a piggyback ride across the lake than getting permission to go to Hogsmeade.
"We'll bring you lots of sweets from Honeydukes," Hermione said gently, but Ariel just kicked at the ground. She didn't want their pity sweets.
"Just go and have fun," Ariel said, trying to sound bright and bubbly, but she felt herself wince. "Don't worry about me."
Hermione and Ron exchanged another guilt-ridden look.
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, looking unconvinced. "I'm sure we can find something fun to do here."
Ariel shook her head firmly and gave them a weak smile. "No, I'll be fine — honest. Bring me some Sugar Quills and I'll be happy."
Ron still looked uncertain, but glanced toward the doors where the last of the stragglers were heading out. "Well, if you're sure…"
"I'm sure," Ariel lied. "Go on. Have fun."
Hermione gave her hand a squeeze while Ron gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. They threw on their mittens and hats as they funneled to the front of the crowd, where Filch was eyeing them all suspiciously with a checklist of students who were allowed to go. Ariel didn't linger, not wanting to be accused of trying to sneak out.
"Poor Red Cap," Malfoy sneered over the excited chatter of the crowd. "Staying all here by herself — too afraid to wander off —"
Ariel ignored him and headed up to her Common Room, trying not to drag her feet.
After an hour or so of being holed up in her dormitory, Ariel began to feel restless and decided to go for a walk. She'd spent the free time brewing some basic Healing potions — Wiggenwelds and Pepperups — but she was starting to get a bit bored.
Fred and George were getting her the ingredients she couldn't get here at Hogwarts, but she wasn't sure some of the things she'd need for the Mystery Slytherin were going to be easy to find. She had a sinking suspicion they'd need to go into the Forest.
Well, she'd cross that bridge when she got to it, she supposed. She hadn't heard anything back from the Mystery Slytherin yet either — maybe they'd backed out. Either way, Ariel did want to help — that was the point of all this, wasn't it?
She headed up to the Owlery to see Hedwig before setting out onto the grounds to look for the Not-Grim-Dog. Ariel had been bringing him food every few days or so, and he'd appear at the same spot every time— the rock she'd sat with Snape under — like clockwork.
Today, she'd grabbed a loaf of bread and some sausages from the Great Hall along the way. She wrapped them in a napkin and tucked the bundle under her arm as she stepped out into the chilly October air, scanning the grounds for a happy black dot.
There was no sign of him.
She searched up and down the tree line for an hour or so before she gave up, a pit forming in her stomach. What if something had happened to him? What if something in the Forest had hurt him? He seemed like a smart thing — Ariel didn't really know how to gauge a dog's wit, but he certainly seemed more intelligent than Fang or one of Aunt Marge's dogs — and he'd been able to take care of himself enough so far, but she couldn't shake the thought that something awful might've happened.
Her trek back up to the castle left her feeling dejected and at a loss as to what to do with herself now. Hermione and Ron wouldn't be back for a couple of hours, and Snape had some poor Second Years in detention for blowing up a cauldron. He'd told her specifically not to come by until later.
Ariel knew she hated Halloween. This was just giving her another thing to worry about. If the Dementors or Black had done anything to hurt her dog, she was going to lose it.
Wandering aimlessly, she started walking through the maze of corridors and decided to take the long way to the library, resigning herself to try and finish her Charms paper. Halfway up, though, she realized that she was right outside the Defense Office.
She stared at Professor Lupin's door, her nose wrinkling. She'd thought a lot about what Snape had said — and not said — and it hadn't really added up to much, the more she'd thought about it. Snape almost never talked about James — Dad — she didn't know what the bloody hell to call him anymore, even if it was just inside her head — but Snape's utmost loathing of James was almost palpable whenever it came up.
Potter was a fool —
Your father and him had quite the rivalry when they were in school together —
They were reckless and often cruel —
Professor Lupin, however, was a completely different story. Why would he have offered to help Ariel with the Patronus Charm if he hadn't cared? He'd given her all those books over the summer — he'd seemed concerned about the Boggart, more than any professor might've been. It made sense if Professor Lupin had been friends with her dad, but it didn't make sense why he'd suddenly revoke all of it.
She was soon presented with a way to get some answers when she heard the sound of someone whistling coming from around the corner. She turned just in time to see Professor Lupin coming around the bend, his hair windswept and robes a bit more disheveled than usual. He must've been outside.
"Hi there," Ariel said.
Professor Lupin stopped short — if Ariel didn't know better, she would've thought he'd left skid marks on the stone floor.
He smiled — it looked almost pained. "Hello,"
They stared at each other for a long moment. All Ariel could hear in her ears were Snape's warnings —
One does not have to intend harm to cause it —
Gave up on you already, has he?
Lupin, with his own afflictions to bear —
So, she decided to take the bull by the horns.
"Why are you avoiding me?" Ariel asked, very matter-of-factly.
Professor Lupin made a strange choking noise. It would've been rather funny, had Ariel not been so annoyed.
"I —" he shook his head for a moment before he frowned. "Where are Ron and Hermione?"
"Hogsmeade." Ariel responded automatically.
"Ah," Professor Lupin motioned to the door with his head. "Let's discuss this inside, then. I've just taken delivery of a Grindylow, anyway."
"Alright," she said, her voice clipped. She watched him grimace as he murmured something against the door and heard it unlock, ushering her inside.
Ariel followed him to find a very large tank of water in the corner. Inside it was a sickly-green creature with its face pressed up to the glass. It bared its teeth at Ariel as she wandered closer, inspecting it. She bared hers back and it blinked before burying itself in a tangle of weeds.
Professor Lupin sighed, causing Ariel to turn, and motioned for her to take a seat. He sat down behind his desk. His mouth opened and closed several times, like he was considering his words carefully. Ariel felt a twinge of guilt — had she come on too harshly? After all, even Snape had admitted that talking about it — the memory of them — that it might be too hard.
"I must apologize for my distance these past weeks," Professor Lupin finally said, after clearing his throat awkwardly. "It was not my intention to give you the cold shoulder, as it were."
She shrugged. "I know you haven't been feeling well. Did that potion Professor Snape gave you help at all?"
He stilled before leaning back in his chair. "It did," he said slowly. "Although it's not a cure-all. I will have my good days and bad, regardless. But enough about me," he said, attempting to change the subject with a forced smile.
Ariel, however, was not so easily distracted. "I wasn't just talking about that."
Lupin sighed, his smile fading. "I thought you might not be."
She studied him for a long moment. He looked — exhausted. Well, he always looked like that, but even more so now.
"Why did you stop helping me? Ariel asked, her voice steady despite the anxiety twirling in her stomach. "With the Patronus Charm?"
For a long moment, Professor Lupin didn't respond. He looked away from Ariel and out of the window, into the gloomy evening falling over Hogwarts. He started to speak several times, stammered, cleared his throat, and rubbed the back of his neck.
Finally, he let out a sigh and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk, and intertwining his hands. "It's not you, Ariel," he began haltingly. "and it's not because I don't want to help you. Believe me, it's quite the opposite."
"I know," Ariel said simply.
He blinked. "Oh?"
"I mean, I didn't at first. I thought you were just — writing me off." Ariel confessed, her shoulders slumping. There was silence as she toyed with the sleeve of her robe. "But then Professor Snape said something."
Professor Lupin's eyebrows shot up. "Severus? He spoke to you about this?"
There was an unreadable expression playing on his face. She had to be careful, now.
"Well, it wasn't exactly a conversation," Ariel said, picking at the finish on the wooden chair. "He doesn't like me much, because of my dad."
She trailed off. Even saying "my dad" aloud made her insides squirm.
Professor Lupin didn't even blink — he looked like he was trying to out-stare her. "I see,"
"Did you know that?"
He shifted in his chair. "Which part?"
"That he hated my dad."
A long moment of silence stretched between them. Lupin's gaze drifted away from Ariel, a terrible sadness etching deep lines into his face.
"Yes," he answered, so quietly that she almost didn't catch it. "I did."
That simple, whispered admission dropped into the quiet room like a stone in a pond, rippling outwards. The room seemed to shrink around her.
"You knew him, didn't you." Ariel could hear her voice tremble, just a tad, just around the edges, like the aftershock of an earthquake. It wasn't even a question — it came out more as an accusation. "My dad."
There it was again — my dad my dad my dad —
Lupin's eyes met hers again, as warm and worn out as they were. Her eyes stung but she didn't bother to blink — it wasn't worth the effort.
"I did," Professor Lupin admitted, his voice hoarse.
"That's why — when I told you I heard him — with the Dementors —"
He put up a hand, as if he could physically stop her words from reaching him. "I should have told you sooner."
There was an almost tangible regret sitting between them, a phantom presence that seemed to seep into every corner of the room. Even the Grindylow was staring at them curiously from the weeds, like he was watching some entertaining show on the telly.
Ariel's hands clenched into fists in her lap. She felt like she was precariously balanced on the edge of a cliff — one wrong move and she might fall off to a place where she would never be able to pull herself back up again.
"You should have," she agreed.
He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"Did you — know me?" Ariel asked in a small voice.
Professor Lupin's expression changed so subtly that Ariel could have missed it if she hadn't been watching him closely. His eyes softened slightly, the grave lines on his face easing a bit. A light seemed to flicker behind his worn-out gaze, like something precious surfacing after years of being buried.
"Yes," he answered after a pause that felt like centuries. "Yes, I did." his voice was soft and carried itself like a summer breeze. "I held you as a baby."
Before Ariel could process — that — a knock at the door interrupted them. It opened before Professor Lupin could call whoever it was to come in. Ariel didn't bother turning, not trusting herself to be able to school her expression back into something normal. She wiped frantically at her face as Professor Lupin's face — changed.
"Ah — Severus," he said, a little louder than needed.
A jolt of something cold jammed itself down Ariel's spine with so much force it bordered on painful.
She turned to find Snape standing in the doorway with a smoking goblet in his hands. His gaze met hers and held it, his dark eyes piercing through her defenses as though they were made of glass. There was a hard edge to his stare, but beneath the steel was something — else.
"Lupin," Snape replied in a voice that slipped under her skin like frostbite. "As we discussed —"
"Thanks very much," Professor Lupin interrupted, rising from his seat. "You can leave it here."
Snape slipped past to set the goblet on the desk. The ends up his cloak brushed against Ariel's side. She balled her hands into fists.
"I was just showing Ariel my Grindylow," Professor Lupin said in a pleasant voice, all traces of the conversation they'd been having gone.
"Fascinating," Snape said, his black eyes never leaving Ariel's. "I made an entire cauldronful if you need more. I adjusted the dosage —"
"Brilliant," Professor Lupin said quickly. "I'll let you know if there's any change, Severus."
"I'd appreciate it if you took it now," Snape said coolly. "So I can assess any immediate effects, if there are any."
Ariel reached into her pocket and wrapped the coin in her palm.
Professor Lupin winced. "As it were, I was in the middle of discussing something with —"
"That's alright," Ariel said, standing up so abruptly that she almost knocked her chair back. "I was just leaving, anyway."
Snape was staring at her strangely — like he was trying to hide a smile — only there wasn't something right. It was — sinister. Ariel moved to the door, avoiding Snape's gaze but feeling it scorch her as if she were under an interrogation lamp.
"Are you sure?" Professor Lupin called, his voice strained.
Ariel gave a tight nod. "Yes — thanks for clearing it up."
She didn't look back. She couldn't. The cool grip of the doorknob in her hand was the only thing that felt real.
Ariel slipped out into the corridor, letting the door close behind her with a soft click.
Severus tried not to look too pleased as the door shut, leaving Lupin looking positively stricken.
He'd known this confrontation was only a matter of time — that the girl's curiosity was bound to get the better of her and that she'd find herself disappointed. Perhaps that was a sliver of Severus' fear — not only that the wolf would harm her — that he'd let Black get to her — like they'd all done nearly twelve years ago — but also that she'd end up more wounded than needed. He'd wanted to broach the subject earlier, but the girl had been in such a foul mood all week because of the damn Hogsmeade visit that Severus had immediately known any sort of dialogue would be pointless.
A year ago he would have deemed it a necessary evil. Now, Severus wanted to stab his wand through Lupin's eye socket.
"The truth has a way of revealing itself, doesn't it, Lupin?" Severus asked softly, keeping his gaze fixed on the door. It was taking every ounce of his self-control not to charge after Miss Evans, but he held it back, like he was holding the blade of a knife in his fist.
The wolf's face hardened. For a brief moment, Severus waited with bated breath for him to finally shed that infuriatingly pleasant mask, to let some of his teeth show, for fucking once —
"It's not every day that one gets to shatter an illusion," Severus continued mercilessly, picking up the goblet that was still smoking. The bitter scent of it filled the room, like a dark cloud spreading after rainfall. "Especially not one as comfortable as hers. Wouldn't want her to get the wrong idea about Potter's entourage, now would we?"
Lupin drew himself upright. There was a long silence before he spoke again, his voice weary and faintly accusing. "I would have told her — I wanted her to know."
"I agree," Severus said, his tone mocking. "and now she does."
He lifted the smoking goblet in a twisted kind of toast before handing it to the wolf.
Lupin took it from him and downed it in one gulp, setting it down with a resounding thud. The sound echoed in the room like a judge's gavel slamming down in. His face went ashen, but he didn't balk or shudder, like he normally did. Severus could see his amber eyes blazing as they bore into the worn and weathered desktop.
The pocket watch vibrated against his hip. Severus lifted it to find a message.
You were right, it said.
"You had no right to tell her anything." Lupin said hoarsely. Severus couldn't tell if it was the potion or the girl's abrupt departure.
Severus had been watching the girl pinging around the castle all morning, and he'd started to develop a twitch when he saw the words Defense Office appear. The girl had the self-control of a Niffler in a jewelry shop. He was starting to seriously consider chains.
In truth, Severus hadn't wanted to talk about Lupin with the girl at all. Dumbledore had all but commanded that he keep Lupin's secret to himself — that not even his daughter should be privy to such information — but the situation had become untenable. Lupin was a risk, an unstable element that could wreak havoc if left unchecked.
"The brat put the pieces together herself," Severus replied smoothly, his tone icy. He placed the pocket watch back in his robe with a smirk. "you, however, did not, it seems."
"Don't tell me you did this for her benefit," Lupin said. His amber eyes were burning like a pair of blazing bonfires. Severus had never seen the wolf this worked up before. Not even when Black had landed himself in the doghouse when they'd been students.
"What benefit? I merely answered her question." Snape retorted, leaning against the wooden desk with an air of nonchalance. "It's not my fault you chose to lie."
"It was better if she didn't know for now. It was—" he cut himself off, kneading his forehead.
"And why is that?" Severus drawled, clasping his hands behind his back and. "Could it be that because then, for once, you'd have to take some accountability? My, Lupin, since when did honesty become so dangerous?"
Lupin's lips tightened into a thin line, his fists clenching. His gaze was bristling with accusations he didn't voice, arrow points that Severus burned for him to let fly.
"I did what I thought was right," Lupin finally said. "I'm here to protect her."
"Is that what you tell yourself?"
"Because if she starts digging," Lupin said in a low voice. "She will find Black."
Severus' eyes narrowed. Black. Of course it would be about Black.
"How convenient for you, then," Severus said, his voice slicing through the tension-laden silence.
"Maybe," Lupin admitted, his gaze lowering to meet the tabletop again. "Do you think she will be safe if she is actively seeking out an escaped convict?"
Severus' eyes narrowed, his fingers tightening their grasp on his slim wand as he regarded Lupin coldly. He could feel the hatred burning icy in his chest, spreading like frost on a windowpane. "You don't want to know what I really think. Your concern for Miss Evans' well-being would be heartwarming indeed," he stopped just inches away from Lupin. "if there was even a mite of sincerity there."
Lupin's gaze sharpened. Legilimency didn't work on werewolves, but Severus would've given his left arm to know what the wolf was thinking, then. To have a flash of guilt or a glimmer of fear — to know that Lupin was hiding something — that even if he didn't know where Black was, that he was somehow complicit —
Severus thought about ripping his throat out. He wished Lupin would try himself — he wished he would give him a reason — if just the slightest lunge or twitch would be all Severus needed —
"And how would you know?" Lupin asked quietly. "What is she to you? From what I can tell, you live to belittle the girl. James being dead isn't good enough for you, is it?"
What is she to you?
The words almost sliced straight through his Shields, like the sharp end of a blade meeting a canvas. He could feel them reverberating inside his skull — Potter —
Severus turned away from him with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I live for no one — not like Potter did. The wretched brat asked, and I obliged."
Lupin studied him with a fixed gaze, one Severus didn't care for one bit. He opened his mouth, as though he were going to say something, but he only shook his head before a glimmer of something — so close to cruel — but it was more like pity — crueler than anything Severus could have done himself.
"Tell me, then," Lupin said, his eyes downcast, finger tracing over the grain of the wood, and his voice dripping with ambivalence. "Did you share your —"
Severus sent the goblet shattering against the wall. It cracked into pieces.
Lupin did not so much as flinch.
He knew what he'd been about to say — what he'd been about to bring up — he'd known it was only a matter of time before it happened, before he made it hurt. Lupin watched Severus from across the room, his eyes revealing an unbearable weight of sorrow and regret. For a fleeting moment, Severus almost felt something akin to pity for the bastard.
Almost — but he didn't. It was not for him — it might not have even been for Miss Evans.
Severus slammed the door shut so hard that one of the knights at the end of the hall actually wobbled, just a tad. He barreled down the hallway, clenching the pocket watch in his hand with so much force that he heard the glass make a sharp click sound.
His mind felt refracted, like a thousand pieces of glass were staring back at him.
Mum had magic
Did you love her?
You could at least explain yourself
Lily had been with Lupin that night. He'd nearly forgotten about it — he'd left her there — alone — with Muggleborns disappearing left and right. Severus had remembered watching him go and contemplated ambushing him in an alleyway for that alone.
They'd all known he'd had a thing for Lily — the Slytherins had teased him mercilessly for it — that Mudblood shrew — and the girls in her year had shunned her for it, until Lily had finally washed her hands of him once and for all. It had bothered Potter more than everyone else combined, however. It was impossible for Lupin to have forgotten that —
It was why Severus wanted an ocean between the girl and Lupin. He didn't trust the wolf as far as he could throw him, yes, but if he told the girl — anything —
Gryffindor Tower, the pocket watch read.
Severus stilled, dusk darkening the corridor. He thought of the look on her face when she'd turned in the chair — anger and betrayal radiating from her dark eyes.
You know where I am, should you wish to unburden yourself
"Whoa," Ariel said.
She was staring at the mound of bright colors in boxes that had been waiting for her when she'd climbed through the Portrait Hole. Everyone had returned from Hogsmeade, excitedly going through everything they'd bought, but Ron and Hermione had been by the fire sorting what looked to be enough candy to open up a shop of their own right here.
Everyone was pink-cheeked and still bundled up with scarfs and hats, chatting like they'd all just had the time of their lives. It rang hollow through Ariel's ears, still hot and queasy after her conversation with Professor Lupin. She was trying not to think about whatever had happened —Snape — and to top it all off, she was worried about her dog. Even if Ariel hated it, she was desperate to go to the Feast at this point, if only for a distraction.
"We used Fred and George as pack mules," Ron said proudly, dumping a second sack of sweets they'd brought back onto the couch.
"Thanks," Ariel said, picking up a packet of tiny black Pepper Imps. "What's Hogsmeade like? Where did you go?"
By the sound of it — everywhere. Dervish and Banges, Zonko's Joke Shop, into the Three Broomsticks for foaming mugs of hot butterbeer —
"The post office, Ariel!" Ron exclaimed. "About two hundred owls, all sitting on shelves, all color-coded depending on how fast you want your letter to get there!"
"Honeydukes had a new kind of fudge, they were giving out free samples, there's a bit, look —" Hermione dug through the pile to hand her a small golden box with a velvet-green ribbon.
"We think we saw an ogre, honestly, they get all sorts at the Three Broomsticks —"
"Wish we could have brought you some butterbeer, really warms you up —"
"Next time, maybe." Ariel said with a small smile. She mentally added "convince Snape to stop being an arse" to her list of things to do. "It sounds brilliant."
"Everything alright here?" Hermione asked, her eyes alight with curiosity. "What did you do while we were gone?"
Ariel shrugged. "Some work. Walked around a bit. Slayed another basilisk. The usual."
Ron sniggered while Hermione tried to fight a smile. "Well, I'm glad to see you didn't die of boredom, at least."
"It's going to take more than that to get rid of me," Ariel linked her arm with Hermione's. "Alright — what am I trying first? Or should I wait? I don't want to fill up before the Feast."
"You're coming?" Hermione's face lit up. "Ron and I didn't think you'd be up to it!"
She just gave a small smile in response, pretending to sort through all of the sweets. Truthfully, Ariel didn't really want to go at all — didn't want to see Professor Lupin and Snape after what had happened earlier — but she knew it would become a problem if she didn't. Snape would hunt her down and berate her for being stupid — being alone on Halloween had never been the smartest idea, really.
I held you as a baby —
No — get it away — she didn't want to dwell on it a second longer —
Ron had settled himself on the sofa, nearly sending the pile toppling over, and started to complain how much his feet hurt. In the meantime, Ginny had meandered over to scope out what they'd brought back, teasing Ron about some foul odor coming from his shoes. Ariel took a bite out of the fudge and looked around the room, spotting Fred and George doing the same by the window, half hidden by the drapes.
Fred motioned for her to come and join them. She left Ron and Hermione to show Ginny everything while her and her friends crowded around the cavity-pile.
"We got everything but the lightning clove." Fred said, handing Ariel a small package. "The shopkeeper said that's rather hard to keep fresh."
"Lucky for you, though, he said it grows in the Forest." George chimed in, nudging her.
Ariel tried not to grimace. She'd known it was a possibility, but she wasn't thrilled about it. Not to mention that she didn't know how she was going to manage a trip that far into the grounds without Snape knowing. If the Not-Grim-Dog showed up again, she would bring him with her, she supposed — and think of a name for him by then, too.
"And we have another note," George went on, handing her a folded piece of parchment. She opened it to find that same calligraphy scrawled in the middle of the page.
Seventh floor toilets. A week from tomorrow at sunrise.
"Cryptic," Ariel muttered. "but very on point, for Slytherin."
"Do you want us to go?" George asked, looking around shiftily. "If you don't feel comfortable, we'd understand. This is starting to get a little — weird."
"Yeah, no kidding," Ariel said, trying to muster up a laugh.
The twins shared a glance but didn't comment. The usual playful gleam in their eyes was replaced by something sharper, more serious.
Ariel shook her head, dispelling the gloomy atmosphere that had descended upon them. "It's fine, you two."
"Look, Evans," Fred said, hesitating for a moment. "It's all fun and games until you start messing around with stuff you don't understand."
She frowned — it wasn't like the twins to get this serious, especially about rules. "What're you talking about? This is just a simple pain tonic. Isn't that the whole point of doing this? Make a bit of money and help people out?"
George was already shaking his head. "That's not what the shopkeeper said. When we handed him the list, he — he didn't seem keen on helping us, anymore."
Ariel stared at them blankly.
"He was happy to help when we first walked in," Fred continued when she didn't say anything. "wouldn't stop yapping, to be honest — he got really quiet, after a few minutes, asked what these were for, if we were using them altogether — asked if we needed anything else."
"Like what?" Ariel asked, not convinced, but she shifted uncomfortably, that hot, nauseous feeling coming back, like she was asking about something she didn't think she wanted to understand.
"He wouldn't say," George shoved his hands deep into his pockets, leaning against the window. "He wanted our names, though. Look, Ariel, this Slytherin bloke — whatever they're after — I don't think it's anything good."
"We don't even know what they're asking for, yet." Ariel countered. "I don't have a recipe to follow. I'll look into it, and if it's something — bad — I won't brew it. Easy solution, yeah?"
They looked at each other skeptically before nodding.
Fred ruffled her hair and Ariel gave him a shove. "If you need backup, we'll be there."
"My heroes," she rolled her eyes at them.
The girl arrived at the Feast with her usual entourage of an entire gaggle of Weasleys and Granger.
Severus watched her intermittently, mostly relieved that she'd come at all. He had no desire to chase her through the corridors for the third Halloween in a row, but he also knew that no matter how much the girl insisted, she despised being alone tonight.
The Great Hall was a usual spectacle of autumnal decorations; dark orange, red, and gold leaves were spread across the tables, casting a warm glow on the Feast below. It had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins and a cloud of live bats, which Severus had thought was overdoing it, but the little dunderheads looked excited enough.
He watched the girl grin at something Weasley-twerp was saying, her face illuminated by the flickering candlelight. Her eyes then met his, her smile faltering slightly, but she quickly masked it with a nonchalant shake of her head. She returned back to her conversation with a pointed stubbornness he knew all too well.
Lupin had seated himself beside Flitwick, who was on Dumbledore's left. Severus sat to his right and tried not to fling his wine in his face. Dumbledore would be very cross with him if he did so in front of the students.
Ignoring the pulsating urge to exit the Feast and indulge in the solitude of his dungeons, Severus watched as Dumbledore picked up a pumpkin pastry delicately between his fingers, his eyes twinkling with hidden amusement.
The old man turned to him, waving the pastry in a manner that was entirely unbecoming of a Headmaster.
"Severus," Dumbledore began in that mysteriously upbeat tone that Severus found aggravating. "Have you ever wondered how these delightful baked goods maintain such an authentic pumpkin flavor?"
Severus gave him a suspicious look. "I generally have more pressing concerns."
Undeterred, Dumbledore chuckled lightly, the sound echoing off the high stone walls of the Great Hall like a magical chime. He placed the pastry down on his plate covered in gleaming silver and brushed the crumbs off his hands. "Indeed. How did Ariel fare today, then?"
Severus considered him for a moment, swirling the dark liquid in his goblet with a detached interest. "Well enough. She didn't try to sneak off, if that's what you mean."
Dumbledore's gaze twinkled as bright as constellations on a cloudless night.
He popped another pastry into his mouth, specks of the pastry dusting his half-moon spectacles as he crunched away merrily. "A promising development, don't you think?"
"Or she merely found it more bearable than being alone tonight," Severus returned dryly, his dark eyes flickering across the Hall to where the girl was now embroiled in a heated discussion with Weasley-twerp. The sight elicited a sigh of exasperation from him. "The girl is as stubborn as they come."
"Minerva mentioned she was quite persistent in rallying for an exception for her lack of a permission slip."
"Over my cooling corpse would I have allowed that."
"Persistence is a trait to be admired, Severus."
"Admired, yes. Dealt with on a daily basis, a test of one's patience," Severus retorted, his eyes still settled on the girl. She was watching the phantom reenactment of some execution with rapt attention, but when the Gryffindor ghost's head nearly came rolling off, he saw her flinch, and immediately knew why. Severus tried to bite back a smile at the memory, only to feel a cold rush of remembrance of what had happened just after.
Dumbledore chuckled, brushing off the crumbs from his half-moon spectacles. "A test you seem to be passing quite well."
Severus merely grunted in response. "Spoken like someone who doesn't have to face her on a daily basis. If she continues to impress you so much, perhaps you should teach her instead."
He raised an unkempt eyebrow. "I take it that her Occlumency lessons are going well, then?"
Severus grimaced. "She's frustratingly stubborn, refuses to follow instructions, and her barriers are so weak that I have half a mind to use a Confundus Charm on myself after every session."
It wasn't entirely an exaggeration — although the girl had promise. The issue laid with her discipline. Miss Evans was trying, but she was far too erratic. Her emotions overwhelmed her often, tearing the carefully built barriers to shreds. It was undoubtedly a side effect of her Gryffindor nature, Severus thought sourly. He'd thought back on every session since they'd begun how different the girl would have been had she been in Slytherin. Far more calculated, far more controlled.
Dumbledore merely chuckled. "The task is not merely teaching her, it's reaching her."
"Then perhaps you ought to consider giving that task to someone else," Severus suggested, his tone frosty as he watched the girl's heated exchange with Weasley-twerp turn into laughter. One of those horrible twins was whispering something into her ear while the other fiddled with his hands under the table. She-Weasley was doing a terrible job of trying to contain her laughter.
Dumbledore shook his head, a knowing smile growing. "This was your decision, if you'll recall. You must ask yourself why you are doing it in the first place."
"Perhaps it's because I'm a masochist."
"I think the truth is far less dramatic – and more compassionate."
"Utter nonsense," Snape retorted, his dismissive tone carrying a hint of bite.
Dumbledore gazed thoughtfully at the enchanted ceiling, where stars twinkled brightly against an inky backdrop. "The mysteries of life often reveal themselves when we least expect it, Severus. Much like these delightful pumpkin pastries."
The Feast continued in its usual, lively fashion. Students chattering loudly and raucous laughter echoing throughout the Great Hall — a merriment Severus found grating on his nerves. He retreated back into his thoughts, his attention drawn back to the girl. He watched her from the corner of his eyes, sipping on his wine and taking measured bites of the roast. The girl looked happy enough, but Severus noticed she'd been nibbling on the same treacle tart for quite a while now, her plate otherwise empty. She ended up shoving it onto Weasley-twerp's plate after not picking it up again.
Severus wondered if she would come to him tonight. She seemed cross with him — the little harebrained fool. She didn't know what she was messing with — playing with fire and expecting not to get burned.
Across the high table, Lupin was grinning like a fool — as if he had not nearly caused a disaster earlier in the day. His eyes, though weary, twinkled with amusement as he talked animatedly with Flitwick. Severus daydreamed about sending a Toe-Tripping Hex at him, how his face would connect with the floor, how everyone would scream in alarm as Flitwick helped him up, his face a mess of blood —
— maybe Severus was right, maybe he was a masochist. It wouldn't have been a surprise — he'd been called worse, over the years.
He waited until the girl and her cronies got up to leave before taking his own. He snarled some threat at a group of older Gryffindor students to stop loitering, earning himself a string of swears and insults when they thought he was out of earshot. He made sure he caught sight of Miss Evans on the staircase — that she was going to her damn Tower — that she would not wander off tonight — as he scanned the crowd of little dunderheads for any reason to take Points.
It irritated him — that she had not come to him today — of all days. It wasn't Severus' fault that the wolf had fucking lied to her face — he'd been honest with her, and it had only made her angry, the ungrateful little brat.
And then Severus heard it —
A commotion coming from the stairs to his right.
"Where's the Headmaster? Someone get Professor Dumbledore!"
A Gryffindor student — Creevey — was running, followed by several others, urgency in their voices. They were shouting at those who were still filtering out of the Great Hall, their calls somehow heard over the din. Minerva soon emerged, the wolf by her side, while Dumbledore seemingly appeared out of thin air.
They swept up the stairs, Severus on their heels.
He knew before he'd arrived — knew it had something to do with the girl.
He could hear the din of panicked voices before he saw them. Over the sea of heads, Severus searched — where was she where where where — to find Miss Evans trying to crane her neck over the others. His heart stuttered, relief flooding through him like a tide — she was safe. No basilisk or insidious voice or smoke or Dark Lord —
And then Severus saw the slashes through the Fat Lady's Portrait.
Knife work.
The girl's eyes met his. They froze on him, like she was holding him in place.
"We need to find her," Dumbledore said — far too calmly. "Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."
"You'll be lucky!" Peeve's voice cackled. Severus felt his fingers twitch around his wand — he was going to send a goddamn Hex at the poltergeist if he didn't shut up. The commotion on the stairs didn't let up, it only got worse as more people crowded around.
Peeves, in the meantime, was bobbing over the crowd and looking delighted.
"What do you mean, Peeves?" asked Dumbledore, with that mild edge of seriousness he could wield like a flaming sword.
"Ashamed, Your Headship, sir — doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful," he said happily. "Poor thing."
That cast a stony silence over the crowd. Something terrible was unfurling inside of Severus, a realization, a fear that was as sharp as a splinter in his heart.
"Did she say who did it?" Dumbledore asked quietly.
The thrumming terror in Severus' chest drowned out every voice, every sound other than his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.
All except one.
"Oh yes, Professorhead. He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see." Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore from between his own legs. "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."
Hermione was holding Ariel's hand so tightly that she was starting to cut off her circulation.
They'd been corralled back into the Great Hall, the other Houses joining them soon after, looking terribly confused. Ariel's heart was pounding inside her chest like a jackhammer.
"Do you think he's still in the castle?" Ron asked anxiously to her left. He was standing so close that she could feel the tickle of his breath on her shoulder.
"Probably," Ariel muttered, her voice surprisingly steady. Her mind was whirling in a myriad of thoughts, like a whirlwind picking up debris and hurling it around. She could still see Snape's face, white as death, eyes practically bulging out of his head. She'd looked away for only a moment before he'd disappeared from sight. She'd spent the whole trek down waiting for him — or Black — to come peeling out of the shadows to grab her —
"He picked tonight," Hermione swallowed, her voice thick. "The one night we weren't in the Tower —"
"I reckon he's lost track of time, being on the run," Ron said darkly. "He probably didn't realize it was Halloween, otherwise, he'd have come bursting in here."
Ariel watched Dean's face change at the mention of Black, as if he had seen a ghost. She knew why — everyone had been on edge — but it had been better, until now. What she was not prepared for was how everyone in the Hall looked at each other with panic in their eyes, sharing silent whispers and fearful glances.
Suddenly the large doors of the Great Hall swung open and in walked Professor Dumbledore with Percy on his flanks, looking quite pleased with himself. The chatter ceased immediately, all eyes turned towards the Headmaster. Ariel's stomach twisted itself into knots.
Professor Dumbledore raised his hand for silence and began to speak. "The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle. For tonight, all students will sleep here in the Great Hall. The House ghosts and Head Boy and Girl will keep watch. Nobody is permitted to step outside under any circumstance."
His words sent ripples of tension throughout the room. Ariel swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around Hermione's hand. A wave of whispers swept across the room like a gust of wind through a field of dry grass, rustling and whispering.
"Sirius Black —" someone whispered from the Ravenclaw table, the name crashing into the silence like a stone through glass. "Merlin's saggy balls —"
"—be quiet, will you?" Ariel heard a Hufflepuff shout, only to be met by an eerily resounding echo. "Everyone just needs to be quiet!"
Hermione squeezed Ariel's hand, her knuckles turning white as the blood drained away. Ron was fidgeting, his fingers drumming a rapid rhythm on the table's top. His eyes flickered nervously from face to face in the Great Hall, unable to settle on any one person for more than a fleeting second.
"He's probably long gone by now, then." Ron said slowly. "Dumbledore wouldn't leave us here if he wasn't."
"You're right — Black wouldn't be able to hide forever, after all." Hermione added with a shaky voice, trying to sound convincing. Ariel nodded without saying anything, her eyes locked the gaping doors of the Great Hall, the darkness beyond ominous.
"Right," Ron agreed, but there was some hesitancy there. "He'd just be a sitting duck."
"Miss Evans," came Professor Dumbledore's calm voice from behind her.
Ariel turned to find the Headmaster waiting — calmly, far too calm — as everyone around her sat up in rapt attention. She could feel Hermione's fingernails digging into her palm, and heard her breath catch in her throat.
"Come with me, my dear," he said when Ariel managed to say absolutely nothing.
She took a step forward. Hermione's hold had her stumbling back, only for a moment, before she wrapped one of hers around her wrist and squeezed.
It's okay, Ariel mouthed to her, because her heart felt like it was trying to cram its way up her throat and escape. Ron was grimacing behind her, his face taut as Hermione let her go.
As she walked down the rows of students, a hush fell over them all, like she was a winter wind spreading across a barren landscape. All of their heads and eyes followed her — Malfoy was the only one who didn't look frightened — more disappointed and annoyed — like this was some huge inconvenience to him. Ariel wanted to Hex him in the face.
Ariel heard the whispering start up again just as the doors groaned shut behind her. It lingered in her ears for a moment before Professor Dumbledore stopped to look expectantly at someone.
And then she saw that Snape was there, waiting.
His face was bone-white, black eyes sticking out like two hardened pieces of stone, icy fury flickering in their depths. She noticed the steady heave of his chest, that he was breathing rapidly, like he'd just run a marathon. His fingers twitched haphazardly at his sides, the knuckles standing white against the sallow pallor of his skin, but what Ariel noticed most was his lips pressed into a taut line, each tremor — wrong — like something was slipping — like anticipation was cracking through.
For what, Ariel did not think she wanted to know.
Ariel started to say something — I'm okay are you okay — but Snape's hand flung itself forward and grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her into him like she was being swallowed by quicksand. Her nose smashed into his ribs.
"Ow," she said, ending up with a mouth full of wool.
She managed to crane her head up. Snape wasn't looking at her. He was staring straight at Professor Dumbledore with a look that made the hairs on the back of Ariel's neck stand up straight.
"She comes with me," Snape said. His voice was short — detached.
"Severus," Dumbledore sounded like he was talking to a cornered animal and not a person. "She will be quite safe."
"I don't give a sodding fuck what you think," his voice was still hollow, still so quiet, but something strong sat just on the fringes, like a tree collapsing at the edge of the forest. "She comes — with — me."
Dumbledore only sighed. "Where will you take her?"
"My quarters."
Ariel stared up at him, about to ask if that was going to cause problems, but the Headmaster beat him to it. "And what am I to tell Minerva?"
Snape's grip at the nape of her neck tightened. She wouldn't have been surprised if he pulled out some of her hair.
"Ow," Ariel said, a little louder. She tried to move her head and couldn't.
"That she's safe."
"As her Head of House, she will insist on knowing her whereabouts."
"Lie to her, then." Snape hissed. "I don't give a damn what you do — she stays with me."
Professor Dumbledore sighed, looking at the pair of them through spectacles that gleamed in the dim light. Ariel couldn't read the look on his face. "Very well, Severus."
She could feel Snape's relief release in a ragged breath, a sigh that escaped. He didn't answer Dumbledore. His hand curled into Ariel's shoulder blade and shoved underneath his cloak.
The wool scratched against her cheek as he turned them both away and led them down into the dungeons.
Severus could feel the walls of his Shields beginning to box him in. All he could focus on was a bright, jagged light pulsing through his mind, pushing him on.
Black Black Black
where is he
how had he gotten in how how how
where had he gone where
what if she had left how did he get in
what if Black Black Black
He shut the door of his quarters with more force than necessary — he only knew he'd done so because the girl flinched and put some considerable distance between them. She remained silent, however, and he was grateful for it. He didn't need any more noise. His mind was already a deafening roar, but that pulsing light — the thing he allowed of himself — the only thing —
With a trembling hand, Severus flicked his wand and solidified the Wards around his quarters. He could feel the thrum of his own magic radiating against his fingertips, winds of energy intertwined all around them.
"Snape —" the girl's voice was soft against the quiet hum of magic in the room.
He didn't respond, too focused on layering another set of Wards over the existing ones. Severus' mind was a chaotic whirlpool of thoughts — of things he was about to do — of what he should have done already —
He couldn't look at her. If he did, he'd lose that searchlight, and he needed it — needed it for her —
He checked his Wards, made sure every single fucking one was twinkling in front of him, checking their strength, checking that the threads of magic would not split if someone were to try tampering — but Black wouldn't know she was here —
He wouldn't know
He couldn't know
She'll be safe here
He reinforced them a third time, a layer of protection so thick it was nearly tangible in the cool dungeon air. A fourth time — a fifth. Each Ward pulsated with a life of its own, singing in harmony with the humming magic around them.
The girl stared at them, her eyes alight with a tranquil wonderment that made the glass in his head wobble. When they faded, Miss Evans was staring up at him with those blasted eyes, eyebrows knitted together in concern —
"Are you okay?" she asked, her jaw quivering.
Severus felt his cheek spasm. His entire body felt hot and cold, pins and needles in his fingers.
"I think you need to sit down," the girl said, taking a cautious step towards him. "You don't look so good."
He sidestepped her. The girl frowned.
"Snape —"
"You will stay here," his voice sounded disjointed — like he was listening to it through static. "you will stay, or I swear on fucking Slytherin himself, if you leave, I will make you wish you were never born."
Miss Evans stared up at him, concerned thick over the strange sea of calm that she seemed to be permeating. The worry settled atop her face like seafoam.
"Are you going to look for him?" she asked quietly.
Severus paused, his dark eyes glinting. He wanted to tell her no, that he would be right here, making sure she was safe, but something else called, dulled out the yearning. "Yes."
"Alone?" the words were just a breath, a soft whisper barely heard over the low hum of the Wards, but they made him flinch.
"Yes." The word stuck in his throat — choked him.
Miss Evans swallowed, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her gaze fell from him and towards the ground, her brow furrowing.
"That's all you're going to do though," she paused. "right?"
The question hung in the air between them, a delicate challenge. The light flickered in his mind's eye.
Black Black Black
where had he gone
where how had he gone how
where where where where whERE
Severus knew well what she was implying — that he would only find Black and not risk his life fighting him — taking him apart limb by limb — head on. He saw the worry etched in her expressions, cutting deep lines into her face that had no place there.
The little fool —
He wanted to tell her it was none of her goddamn business what he did — that there was no measure to the lengths he would go to — but every fiber in his body screamed at him to placate her, to do whatever it took to quench the fear sparking in those dark eyes — the damnable girl —
He swallowed as if molten lead, his throat burning raw.
"Yes," he repeated, a lie as bitter as wormwood.
To his surprise, Miss Evans didn't seem to believe him. She shifted on her spot, her gaze narrowing slightly at him but the worry never leaving her eyes. "And what if you find him?"
Severus clenched his jaw, his grip on his wand tightening considerably. It was undeniably a dangerous territory, a path filled with thorns and hidden pitfalls. He did not want to tell his thirteen-year-old daughter that he planned to rip Black's spine out through his throat, would do the same to Lupin —
Lupin.
What is she to you?
Lupin —
She will find Black —
Motherfucker —
He could not have gotten in — not without help —
His rage pulsed with every heartbeat — it pounded to the same rhythm. Black. Lupin. Black. Lupin. They stuck there like splinters in his brain, gnawing at his sanity.
Miss Evans took a hesitant step towards him, her hand outstretched cautiously, but she looked — pained. She knew — she must have, or she would not be this alarmed — of what he was capable of, of what he was willing to do for her. He was not a good man by any measure, but he was her father, and that meant something.
Something —
(Everything).
He swallowed once more, words caught in his throat. There was venom on his tongue, bubbling, and corrosive, but he forced it down, forced himself to focus on her — the only important thing in that moment.
"Stay," he managed to strangle out. "Goddamn you — stay."
And something shifted in Miss Evans' expression, replacing the fear with a quiet resolve. The same stubbornness that was his own. She straightened up and locked eyes with him, the silent message clear as day —
"Can you — the coin —" she swallowed roughly, her voice throbbing. "Don't turn off the Tracking Charm, alright? Please? I'll stay if — if you do this for me."
Severus sighed, a haggard sound escaping him as if he'd been holding his breath for too long. His gaze dropped down to the small, gold coin she held between her trembling fingers — their tether.
"Yes," he heard himself whisper again; this fourth affirmation, though reluctant, was not a lie. He understood what she was asking — that no matter what happened, she would know where he was. A guarantee.
She looked at him for a moment longer before her gaze dropped again to the floor, her nervous fingers playing with the hem of her robes. Her next words were barely audible, whispered so softly that they could have been swept away by a draft.
"Thank you."
His throat tightened at those two words, simple and yet so filled with meaning. It was as if she had spoken a whole stanza of an unspoken poem, and he was left to decipher it — to feel its weight. He wanted to reply, but whatever he could have said was stolen away by his own quiet desperation.
Black.
Lupin.
Gritting his teeth, Severus turned on his heel, striding towards the door. His heart pounded in time with his steps, echoing a kind of anticipation that he had not felt since the War.
He paused by the entrance, not daring to look back at her.
For what felt like a lifetime, Severus lingered there, his hand hovering over the door handle. It was a simple piece of metal, cool against his fingertips, but it felt like a burning brand.
Severus had lied to her. Black would be long gone, by now.
But Lupin would not.