The gentle peace that Ariel had established lasted until the week before Halloween.
It had taken one, singular force to shatter it that she had severely underestimated:
Crookshanks.
In hindsight, Ariel should've seen it sooner, but it had been like pulling teeth trying to get the three of them in the same room lately, even after they'd all reconciled and agreed to let bygones be bygones. Ron was spending more and more time with the boys and at the Quidditch pitch, while Hermione was so bogged down with homework that Ariel wouldn't have been surprised if she'd set up permanent residence in the library. Ariel herself was so swamped with Occlumency lessons and brewing for the twins that she couldn't feel as sad about it as she should have been.
Every time Ariel tried to pull one of them aside, there was a Quidditch-something or an essay-something that seemed to be a bigger priority.
One night, by some miracle – they'd all managed to end up in the Common Room together. Ron had flipped open a Quidditch magazine to peruse (Ginny had drawn hearts all over the cover on one of the Bulgarian teams' captains, much to Ron's chagrin) while Hermione, of course, did mountains of assignments, and Ariel started compiling a list of ingredients for the twins. She had another list, too — one of pros and cons about the mystery patron from Slytherin.
Ariel still had another few days to think about it. She was torn between wanting to help (and her curiosity) but she didn't want to get caught, either.
The atom bomb — Crookshanks — had been prowling around the Common Room, inspecting the three of them as they worked. At one point, he leapt up onto the table beside Ron, startling him and causing him to spill an open pot of ink all over his magazine.
"Crookshanks!" Ron yelled in frustration. The cat darted away, knocking over a stack of Hermione's books in the process.
"Oh honestly, Ron, he's just a cat," Hermione huffed as she gathered up her things.
Ron grumbled under his breath as he tried to wipe the ink off his magazine. Hermione clicked her tongue in annoyance as she picked up her books, shooting an irritated look right back at him. Ron had seemingly put his anger with Ariel behind him, but he and Hermione were still bickering just as much, if not more so.
"You're impossible sometimes," Hermione snipped. "Crookshanks was just playing around. No need to get so upset over a little spilled ink."
Ron's ears turned red. "He ruined my magazine!"
"Come on you two," Ariel groaned. "Ron, just cast Scourgify and it'll be like new. Hermione, maybe you could keep a better eye on Crookshanks when he's wandering around."
Hermione huffed indignantly. "Crookshanks has as much of a right to be in here as anyone else. If Ron doesn't want accidents to happen, then maybe he shouldn't be so careless!"
They began to argue, and Ariel set down her list, massaging her temples as the volume rose. Crookshanks looked rather smug, curled up in an armchair on the other side of the room. Ariel glared at him as she tried to interject, only to be drowned out by the rising volume. Some of the other students who had been studying quietly had begun to pack up their things and leave, sending them terrible looks.
That was when Ariel noticed Crookshanks' eyes had locked onto Ron's bag. A tail was hanging out the side of it — a long, familiar tail — what probably looked like a very tasty tail —
Ariel let out something between a shriek and a swear as she vaulted over the table just in time to grab Crookshanks before he pounced.
She managed to snag his back legs as Ron let out a shout, quickly gathering his bag into his arms. Scabbers began to squeak wildly, which only egged Crookshanks on, who began clawing at Ariel's jumper to get loose.
Crookshanks swiped at Ariel, who let out a yelp as he managed to wriggle free. Ron, luckily, had already managed to scoop Scabbers against his chest. He was squeaking like a siren, frantically trying to rip free of Ron's hold to get to safety.
Hermione fell forward just in time to pull Crookshanks into the prison of her arms, her elbow wrapping around his belly while the other held the scruff of his neck firmly. Crookshanks hissed before relaxing, just a tad. Ariel rubbed at her neck, wincing at the burn she found there.
"That's enough out of you," Hermione said sternly, holding Crookshanks tight as he yowled in protest. "Bad, Crookshanks, bad!"
Ron's face was nearly as red as his hair. "There's something wrong with that cat, Hermione!"
"There is not!" Hermione shot back, but she'd gone a bit pale. "He's a natural predator — you can't just expect him to ignore his instincts."
Ron's face rippled with anger. "Scabbers isn't just any rat! He's been with my family for years — he's not well — just look at him!"
"Maybe if you took better care of him, he wouldn't be in this state." Hermione snapped, her cheeks flushing a bright pink in her own growing indignation.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means exactly what I said. Scabbers is in a sorry state because you hardly pay any attention to him!"
"That's not true — I take good care of him!"
"Oh really? Like when you forgot to feed him for three days straight last month?"
The Common Room was now completely devoid of its other occupants, leaving only Ariel caught in the crossfire. The crackling fire in the hearth was the only other sound, its flickering light casting monstrous shadows on the walls as the tension thickened.
It wasn't an ideal situation for Crookshanks, either, but it seemed he was enjoying the spectacle somewhat, his whiskers twitching and golden eyes gleaming with amusement. Or maybe it was hunger — if Ariel had been Scabbers and a cat had been looking at her like that, she would've been losing her mind with fear, too.
Ariel looked from Ron, holding a frightened Scabbers close to his chest and then to Hermione, clutching an unrepentant Crookshanks in her vice-like grip, and simply sighed.
Ron's mouth opened and closed several times as if he was a fish out of water, his freckled face going from red to scarlet. "Scabbers is just old — that's all. He doesn't need much food! Maybe you're not feeding that bloody cat and that's why he's going after Scabbers!"
"I'll have you know he is extremely well cared for —"
"Oh yeah? Then why is he so keen on gobbling up Scabbers every chance he gets?"
Before Hermione could retort, Ariel quickly stepped between them. "O-kay, that's enough," she said firmly. "This isn't solving anything."
Both Ron and Hermione fell silent, though they continued to glare daggers at each other.
"Look, I know you both care about your familiars," she said evenly. "but fighting isn't going to help anything. Crookshanks is a cat — he has natural instincts to hunt. And Scabbers —"
She glanced over at the rat still clutched protectively in Ron's hands. His sides were heaving rapidly, eyes bulging a bit in fear. He didn't look — well. Had he always looked that way?
"You two have no compassion!" Ron snapped. "You're going to give him a heart attack, at this rate!"
Ariel sighed dejectedly as Ron stormed away, Scabbers clutched protectively to his chest. She turned back to Hermione, who was still glaring after Ron, Crookshanks hissing softly in her arms.
"I'm sure he'll come around eventually," Ariel sighed. "He just needs some time to cool off."
Hermione swallowed roughly and nodded, but Ariel could see her eyes beginning to water. She'd set Crookshanks down, who slinked away haughtily to hide underneath the sofa, and started collecting her things.
"Well, I think I've had enough excitement for one night," Hermione muttered, not looking at Ariel. "I'm going to bed."
Without waiting for a response, she fled from the room.
Ariel knew better than to follow after her — Hermione wouldn't talk until she was ready, and while they'd all had a terrible start to the school year, Hermione and Ron were definitely bickering more than usual. It hadn't exactly blown up the way it had just moments ago, but Ariel supposed she should have seen it coming. Hermione was strung out with stress and Ron hadn't exactly let Hermione's schedule-situation go. He muttered to Ariel about it at meals when he thought Hermione couldn't hear.
She glanced around the empty Common Room, the orange light from the fire beginning to fade like a sunset. The soft ticking of the clock was a harsh reminder of the late hour.
She winced as she fell back into her armchair, her neck stinging. When she pressed her fingers against it, it felt hot to the touch.
"This is why I have an owl," Ariel muttered. And a dog.
Remus had felt like a moldy piece of bread the entirety of the week (more like two weeks, but he'd been in denial, then). He hadn't been able to sleep — insomnia was an old friend, but this was — new.
It had steadily gotten worse as the school year unfolded. Remus had ignored it — as was one of his best talents — but it was impossible to do so now, barely able to function. Between dreading the day Sirius decided to make a move, lesson planning, teaching, classroom management — or mismanagement, according to the Slytherins — and his normal general feeling of shittiness, Remus had realized he was going to have to do something about it sooner rather than later.
He'd never had this issue before, which led him to believe there was only one explanation: the Wolfsbane. The breaking point had come during office hours (again), where Minerva had found him asleep at his desk, and she'd all but commanded Remus to finally go and see Snape about it.
He'd gone to Poppy first, instead, but her knowledge of the Wolfsbane had been limited. It was a fairly new formula — only a few years old, at the very least — and rarely brewed in most apothecaries. As an added bonus, it was nearly impossible to purchase (if it had been even remotely affordable). In the end, Poppy's answer had been the same as Minerva's: go to the source.
Remus had never been a fan of the Hospital Wing, or of the Potions classrooms. He'd always found them both unsettling with their echoes of despair and illness and the choking scent of potions that were meant to help but tasted like death warmed over. Even so, he knew Minerva wouldn't have suggested it if she hadn't thought it was absolutely necessary.
So here Remus was, standing awkwardly in front of Snape's office door, his hand raised to knock. He half hoped Snape would be out. There were few things Remus liked less than talking about his condition , especially with someone who didn't have a particularly high opinion of him.
Snape had done nothing but glare daggers at him during meals and faculty meetings, but other than waiting for his coffee to be poisoned (he supposed it would happen around March, when he finally let his guard down) Snape hadn't done anything to Remus in retaliation — yet.
Swallowing his unease, Remus rapped his knuckles lightly against the wood of the door, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet corridor. He winced when a gruff voice called back, "Enter," and pushed open the door reluctantly.
Inside was just as Remus remembered it — filled with shelves and glass cabinets containing potions ingredients of all sorts, some familiar and others so bizarre that Remus would have hesitated to even touch them.
Snape was seated behind a large desk, a cauldron bubbling on a portable burner nearby, filling the room with a familiar aroma – the Wolfsbane. He was almost surprised to see Snape brewing it out in the open like this, but Remus had done some research of his own, and the final stages required meticulous attention. It was less of a potion and more of a time bomb, one that could implode if it wasn't sufficiently supervised.
"What do you want, Lupin?" Snape's voice echoed in the room, his eyes never leaving the parchment he was scribbling on. The quill in his hand moved so fluidly that for a moment, Remus felt hypnotized by it — Merlin's beard, he was so tired.
Remus cleared his throat. "Severus – I'm sorry to bother you at this hour —"
"No, you're not," Snape interrupted abruptly, not once lifting his gaze from the parchment. His quill continued to dance across its surface, the scratching sound it made against it bringing an odd calmness to the otherwise chilly room.
Remus hesitated, then sighed. He was too tired for mind games and Snape's horrid temper.
"You're right," he admitted wearily. "I'm not. To be frank with you, I would prefer never having to come here if given a choice, but I don't have one."
For the first time since Remus entered the room, Snape paused his writing to look at him, cold eyes assessing from beneath sallow skin and heavy black brows.
With a swift gesture, Snape put down his quill, leaning back in his chair as he steepled his fingers together. "And why," he drew out slowly, "might that be?"
Remus fought to keep his expression neutral, jaw clenched as he held Snape's imposing gaze. "I've been having — trouble." he paused briefly, gritting his teeth before continuing. "with the Wolfsbane."
Snape's face remained impassive, but a flicker of something ghosted across his eyes. "I see," he said simply, giving away nothing.
The silent assessment seemed to last a lifetime before Snape finally put his quill down, leaning back in his chair. The room was so quiet that Remus could hear the creak of the chair beneath Snape's weight.
"Then, by all means, Lupin," Snape said in a voice so soft that it contrasted sharply with his usually harsh tone. "Explain — I'm listening."
Remus hesitated again, unsure how to broach the topic without giving Snape another reason to make jabs at his furry little problem, but he saw no way around it. He was there because of a potion Snape brewed for him — to keep everyone safe from him.
He sighed, his weariness seeping into every word. "I've been... rather fatigued. More so than usual, ever since I started taking the Wolfsbane."
Snape simply stared at him in that disconcertingly still way of his. His gaze was analytical — and quite unnerving as his eyes roamed over Remus like a specimen in one of those glass cabinets.
"Fatigue," he repeated quietly, propping his elbows on the desk and pressed his fingers against his mouth.
"Yes," Remus pushed on with a nod. "And not just physically – mentally as well. It's become more noticeable as of late. There are entire blocks of time I cannot recall."
He wouldn't tell him about the nightmares. He didn't need to know about those. They weren't connected – surely they weren't.
Snape continued to watch him, his expression as still as the unmoving surface of the Black Lake on a windless night. For a moment, he did nothing but stare, his fingers drumming against his lips in an almost contemplative manner. The dim light in the room glinted off his eyes, giving them an eerie glow.
Then, finally, Snape spoke.
"The formula of Wolfsbane," he began, his voice smooth like a snake slithering through the undergrowth. "is highly potent and can indeed cause such side effects in an individual not accustomed to its strength. The fatigue is your body adjusting to the sheer force of the potion. It is not something to lose sleep over, Lupin. Fatigue, memory lapses — these are common side effects until the body adjusts to the new strain put on it."
Remus frowned. "You mean the aconite?"
"The aconite in the potion creates a fine balance that has to be maintained. Too much, it can be lethal — too little, it would not suppress the transformation." Snape's voice held no tone of mockery nor sympathy — merely a statement of facts, like he was lecturing Remus. He paused for a moment, eyes glinting dangerously under the flickering candlelight. "If you are that concerned, we can attempt to adjust the dosage. I cannot promise it will do much — or that it won't kill you. Either way, I'm indifferent."
Remus didn't miss the hint of malicious satisfaction that curled at the corner of Snape's lips as he finished his sentence. "I'd rather we not resort to lethal outcomes, but if you think that will help, I'm all ears."
"Ah, yes — Lupin. Always the allegedly cautious one. It's a wonder how you ever survived with the likes of Potter and Black around."
And there it was.
"Indeed," Remus replied, ignoring the dig, ignoring the way the words lashed at his worn and weathered heart. He'd learned long ago that getting into a war of words with Snape was a losing battle — a fact that he'd tried to impart on Sirius and James, usually to no avail. "Yet here we are, against all odds. I only ask that you look into adjusting whatever you think will give me some relief, Severus. I do not need or want anything drastic, and certainly not anything that's going to jeopardize my wits during the full moon. If there's nothing that can be done, I'm sure I'll manage."
Snape's lip curled derisively. "Look into it? I am not some mediocre apothecary following recipes from dusty old tomes, Lupin. I know its properties intimately."
"Is that a yes?"
"At the risk of you slaughtering a castle full of defenseless children? Yes, I'll bloody well look into it, wolf." he glanced over at the cauldron that had been quietly simmering since Remus had arrived. "In the meantime, your next dose is ready. I suggest you take it to avoid any accidents — the next brew will require time to refine."
Remus sighed, suddenly feeling the full weight of his exhaustion settle over him. He ran a hand over his face wearily. Snape wordlessly summoned a goblet, ladling the Wolfsbane into it.
"I appreciate it, Severus," he said finally. "Truly."
Snape's sneer only deepened. "Spare me your pathetic attempts at civility, Lupin. I brew the Wolfsbane because the Headmaster demands it, not because I —"
There was a timid knock at the door, then.
Snape's mouth clamped shut as his gaze cracked over to its direction. He reached into his robes to glance at a pocket watch, his face hardening, and he swore under his breath — Remus almost didn't catch it — as the door creaked open.
A head popped into frame — red hair around a pale face and dark eyes. Her nose wrinkled as she stepped inside, gazing down at something in her hand, but she quickly froze when she caught sight of Remus, shoving whatever it was — something that glinted? — into her robes as she met Snape's furious expression.
"Er — hello," Ariel squeaked. "Am I —"
"Why are you here, Miss Evans?" Snape snapped. "You'd better have a very good reason, as it is dangerously close to your curfew."
"I — right — I tried the infirmary and Madam Pomfrey wasn't there —"
"So you decided to burden me with your presence." Snape said flatly.
The insult bounced off of Ariel like rubber. "Believe me, I'd rather be in bed right now. It's bloody freezing down here."
Remus swallowed back a laugh. Snape threw him a horrible look.
"Well?" Snape bit out. "What have you done now?"
She pulled down her turtleneck to reveal bright red scratch marks all over her neck and the tops of her shoulders. Remus inhaled sharply, but nearly choked halfway through the breath when he caught sight of the look that had taken over Snape's face.
He'd gone very still. His lips thinned into a hard line, and for a moment, Remus thought he saw a flash — it was almost worry, but it was too manic, too hard to see — in the depths of his inky black eyes.
"What happened?" Snape demanded, his voice as tight and sharp as a whip.
"Hermione's cat," Ariel grimaced. "It tried to eat Scabbers."
Snape was still looking at Ariel strangely, like he was trying to splinter the air between them apart. " What is a Scabbers?"
"Ron's rat."
Snape's cheek twitched. He continued to glare wildly at Ariel until she covered herself back up, her face flushing as red as the scratch marks. Remus wanted to say something to Ariel — ask if Hermione had made sure the thing wasn't rabid or ill — but he was so taken aback by the sudden stillness and the deadly look in Snape's eyes that it barely registered.
A pool of guilt settled into the pit of Remus' stomach. He'd promised Ariel help with her Patronus, and like the coward he was, he had been able to face her again – not yet anyways. To know she'd heard James – heard him shouting for Lily to run – that every time the Dementors – because of –
– because Remus was still lying –
"Stay here," Snape bit out, turning on his heel before disappearing into the storeroom.
Ariel shifted uncomfortably as Snape strode away, his robes billowing behind him. An awkward silence descended on the office.
"Er — sorry about this, Professor Lupin," Ariel mumbled, glancing hesitantly up at Remus. "I know it's late…"
"No, no, it's quite alright," Remus assured her kindly. "Those look rather nasty. Here, come sit down."
Ariel nodded, wincing as she adjusted her turtleneck and slid onto of the workbenches to wait. She fidgeted with her hands, letting her wand slide out from under her sleeve as she traded it between her fingers. Remus' throat tightened – Lily had done the same thing when she'd felt uncertain or uncomfortable.
"Does it hurt terribly?" Remus asked gently, noticing her wince again as the fabric rubbed against the scratches.
Ariel gave him a small smile. "Not too bad. Just stings a bit."
Remus nodded. "Cats can certainly do some damage when they want to. I remember a rather nasty Kneazle once took a swipe at me when I was about your age — left some deep scratches down my arm. Cleared right up though with some sort of ointment."
"Move, Lupin."
He turned to find that Snape had emerged from the storeroom holding a small jar of pale-yellow salve. His face was still taut, his movements brusque as he approached Ariel. Remus moved to the side as Snape bent down beside her, uncorking the vial with a soft pop.
"Murtlap essence?" Ariel guessed, eyeing it with a knowing gleam.
"This isn't a pop quiz, Miss Evans," Snape ground out.
"I was just curious," she mumbled.
Snape's face was stony as he applied the salve to Ariel's scratches, his motions brisk but gentle. Ariel winced slightly at the initial sting, but soon relaxed as the soothing properties of the salve took effect.
"Better?" Snape asked curtly, after a few moments. The scratches had already begun to fade to a pale pink.
Ariel nodded. "Yes, thank you, sir."
Snape studied her neck critically for a moment more before replacing the stopper on the jar. When he noticed Remus watching them, his lip curled. "Well? Are you going to drink it or not?"
He glanced at the goblet, his stomach turning. "Ah — yes. Of course."
Ariel eyed the goblet warily, her dark eyes widening at the smoke wafting up from it. "You're going to drink that?"
Remus gave Ariel a weak smile. "It's just a potion Professor Snape brewed to help me feel better. I've been a bit under the weather lately."
"Is it going to make you feel better by killing you? You can't feel anything if you're dead."
Snape rolled his eyes. "Enough with the clever insights, Miss Evans. Professor Lupin is more likely to die from your alarming lack of perception than any potion I could concoct."
"It was just a joke," she muttered.
Snape's gaze softened marginally as his attention returned to Remus. He jerked his head towards the goblet. "Drink — now."
He lifted the goblet, the pungent liquid sloshing inside. "Cheers," he said, raising it to Ariel, who smiled.
Remus steeled himself before downing it in several large gulps, trying not to dwell too much on the positively foul taste. He suppressed a shudder as he set the empty goblet back on the desk. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Snape watching him intently, as if waiting to see if he would suddenly sprout fur or claws. But the only effect Remus felt was a mild, spreading numbness in his fingers and a metallic taste in his mouth.
"Well, I suppose I should turn in for the night," Remus said, attempting to sound casual. "Thank you again, Severus. I can walk you back to your dormitory if you're ready, Ariel."
"That won't be necessary, Lupin," Snape interjected sharply.
Remus frowned slightly. "Oh, that's quite alright. It's no trouble —"
"I wasn't asking for your opinion," Snape cut him off, his black eyes glittering. He turned towards Ariel. "Miss Evans will be staying for a detention."
Ariel's jaw dropped open. "What!"
"Detention," Snape repeated, emphasizing each syllable. "A consequence of being out of your dormitory past curfew."
"But I wasn't!"
"It's three minutes past ten." his voice was smooth but held an underlying tone of smugness that made Remus' blood boil.
"But —"
"Surely only a warning would suffice," Remus interjected quietly.
Ariel's mouth clamped shut. If Snape wasn't planning on poisoning Remus, he certainly was now, gauging the look on his face now.
Snape's eyes flashed dangerously. "I do not require your input on how I handle discipline in my own classroom, Lupin."
Remus held up his hands placatingly, though he was seething inside at Snape's petty abuse of power, though he shouldn't have been surprised.
It was — strange. Remus hadn't been able to properly gauge if Snape hated Ariel or not — he should have, being James' girl — but Dumbledore had entrusted Snape to watch her over the summer. The way he spoke of her, however — to her — was a startling reminder of their school days.
Coward, Conscience rattled off. Coward — you bloody coward —
Turning to Ariel, Remus gave her an apologetic look. "I'll inform Professor McGonagall where you are."
She looked positively mutinous, but nodded. After a moment, her face softened, a look of recognition filling up her face, gently swirling away all contempt as she looked back up at Remus.
"I'm sorry you haven't been feeling well." she said, something in her thin face so earnest that Remus felt his heart clench. And he'd been avoiding the poor thing.
He gave a tight smile. "I'll be alright. Don't you worry about me."
"Indeed," Snape said flatly. "Goodnight, Lupin."
Remus hesitated, not wanting to leave Ariel alone with Snape, but also knowing arguing further would be futile.
"Goodnight," he finally said. With a last sympathetic glance at Ariel, he turned and left the office, the door clicking shut behind him.
He stood there for a good while, just staring at it.
He did not sleep.
This time, he did not want to.
Ariel watched Professor Lupin leave before she rounded on Snape, ready to let him have it, only to find him dousing the candles.
She opened her mouth, about to ask what that had been about, when she realized that he wasn't throwing a list of chores to do or barking at her to start scrubbing some disgusting table covered in mystery guts.
It took her about another three candles to realize what was going on.
"You're not really giving me detention," Ariel said slowly. "Are you?"
Snape rolled his eyes. "Of course not, you daft girl."
What — her brain kept asking over and over, confused and a bit whiplashed — what is happening — what —
She slowly felt the pieces click together, making the mistake of saying them out loud before she could think more about it silently. "Because — you — didn't want Professor Lupin walking me back — alone."
"Your penchant for pointing out the glaringly obvious is unparalleled, Miss Evans."
Ariel folded her arms across her chest, undeterred by Snape's sarcastic jab. "Why? What do you know about him that I don't?"
Snape's eyes flashed with irritation as he extinguished the last candle, plunging the room into near darkness. "It does not concern you."
"I think it does concern me, seeing as you're using me as an excuse," Ariel shot back. She wasn't about to let him shrug her off so easily.
Snape let out an exasperated sigh, though it came out as more of a hiss in the darkness. "Enough — come along, now, before I change my mind about that detention."
She quickly racked her brain for a way to get him to talk more. "Can't I stay here for a bit?"
"I have rounds — you're going back to your Tower."
"I can come with you."
"Absolutely not."
"Why?"
"Why must you continue to be so infuriatingly stubborn?"
Ariel lifted her chin defiantly. "I don't see why not. I'd just be walking quietly beside you. It's not like I'd be a distraction."
"You underestimate your talent for being one," Snape muttered.
"What if Professor Lupin comes back and I'm gone? Won't that look suspicious?"
She knew she'd won when he simply scowled at her as he swept past her, jerking his head at her to follow.
Snape held the door open for Ariel, waiting until she'd passed through to snap it shut and lock it. With his back to her for a moment, Ariel was left to stare into the foreboding darkness ahead of him. She shivered, unconsciously shuffling closer to Snape, and cursing herself for not bringing her cloak with her.
The distant drip drip drip of water somewhere was the only sound to greet them as Snape silently cast a Lumos, the pale, gray light falling over them. He started forward and Ariel followed closely behind, knowing full well that if she started to linger that he'd turn her around and have her scrubbing cauldrons till midnight.
Snape cast a Warming Charm on her, nonetheless. He didn't say anything, but his face hardened when Ariel shot him a grateful smile. Her mind now off the chill, she set it to more important things — like getting Snape to tell her about Professor Lupin — who seemed terribly awkward around her, despite the fact that they'd spent hours battling a Boggart together — and that she'd told him what she'd heard —
Please not Ariel please take me instead please
Step aside you silly girl
Take Ariel and run
— a secret she hadn't even had the heart to tell Hermione or Ron. A secret Professor Lupin had promised to help her with —
"You will stay close," Snape bit out as they moved through the dungeons, their footfalls almost deafening. "If we stumble into anyone, I've caught you out and about after curfew and am escorting you back to your dormitory. Is that understood?"
"Why am I in trouble no matter the scenario?" Ariel grumbled.
His eyes flashed. "I recall offering you respite back to your Tower."
She fell silent at that, musing about how to get him to talk. Snape seemed unwilling to elaborate further on why he didn't want her alone with Professor Lupin, so Ariel changed tactics.
"That potion looked awful." she put on her best concerned face when he turned to glower. "Is Professor Lupin really ill?"
Something flickered in Snape's dark eyes. "He has a chronic condition, which the potion helps manage."
"Oh." Ariel furrowed her brow. "Is it serious?"
"Potentially," Snape said curtly.
… What did that mean?
"What kind of potion was it?" Ariel asked, curious.
"None of your concern."
Well, she'd tried.
"He's not here anymore, you know." Ariel grumbled. "You don't have to keep being so mean."
"That's where you're wrong, you nosy brat." Snape's voice was laced with a layer of ice that was going to prove difficult to crack through. He turned to face her, the pale light from his wand casting long shadows over his face, enhancing the menace in his eyes. "I don't have to be anything but mean. Not to him, not to you, not to anyone."
"You can be nice when you want to be," she mumbled back, clutching at her side. She was starting to get a stitch. "Although I think you might be allergic to it."
"As if it could ever be more than fleeting moments of madness. Please, spare me the dramatics."
Ariel snorted at that, cracking a tiny smile. Her laugh was cut short by the wheezing sound she made, already out of breath as they headed past the sleeping dragon statue, which Ariel could've sworn was breathing.
Snape's pace slowed and Ariel took this opportunity to stand her ground — she wanted answers. If he was going to make things awkward, she damn well wanted to know why.
She stopped walking to cross her arms up at him. Snape stopped as well, only to stare back blandly, but she could see something glinting in the recesses of his endless eyes.
"He's no Lockhart." Ariel pressed, trying to quirk her eyebrow the way he did. If he noticed, he didn't let on.
"Thank Merlin," Snape rolled his eyes. "one could argue, however, that Lupin is substantially worse."
"Why?" she paused, trying to think of everything she knew — the limited information she had. "Is it — because of what happened with Neville?"
His gaze darkened, like a black hole. They hadn't spoken about it — Ariel hadn't wanted to, but the only time Snape seemed to willingly impart information to her was when he got himself riled up.
"Though I suppose not," Ariel continued, her voice softer. "You told me to be careful around him before term even started."
Snape's eyes flashed dangerously. "How touched Lupin would be if he knew you advocated for him this much. Tell me, have you told him this during your lessons?"
She couldn't help it — she flinched. "I haven't been back, actually."
"No?" he sneered. "Gave up on you already, has he?"
"He's been — busy." Ariel tried weakly, but even she didn't believe herself. Professor Lupin had been ill, but his reaction after her last attempt to vanquish her Dementor-Boggart had ended so abruptly that it was hard to shake the seed of doubt that had begun to take root.
Snape snorted derisively, "Busy, yes, that would be one way to put it."
Ariel felt a sharp pang of hurt. "He's not ditching me. He's been sick."
"That hasn't stopped him before," Snape retorted, a bitter edge to his tone. Ariel was taken aback. It was one thing for Snape to be snide and sarcastic, but this — this felt personal.
"What do you mean?" Ariel asked cautiously.
He merely glared at her in response, silent as a tomb.
"Snape, c'mon —" Ariel began again, her tone pleading.
"Enough," Snape snapped, his words echoing in the cavernous hallway. "Your bleating is giving me a headache."
Ariel gritted her teeth. She wanted to snarl back at him, but instead, she took a deep breath and counted to ten. She would not let him get to her, she told herself. She was better than that — he'd promised to be better than that. Had he forgotten already?
She stopped walking again. Snape got to the end of the hallway before he turned, his black eyes like chips of ice, jaw working as though he were grinding his teeth.
They stared at each other like that, each wrapped in a cloak of their own stubborn silence. Ariel felt the hard knot in her chest uncurl into a surge of frustration.
"You promised no more lies," Ariel said, doing her damndest to make sure her voice stayed steady. "If you won't tell me, I'll talk to Professor Lupin myself."
The corners of Snape's mouth tightened, but he didn't respond.
Ariel held his gaze for another moment before turning abruptly on her heel. She'd barely taken three steps when she felt a hand curl into her shoulder blade, jerking her backwards.
"Out with it, then." Snape's voice snarled, just above her head. Ariel smiled to herself and turned around so that she was looking up at him. The lines of his face flickered in the torchlight, distorting the angles, and making him look like a reflection in water instead of a real person.
She didn't want to keep asking the same old question over and over — so she decided on something else to start with.
Ariel sucked in a deep breath through her nose, the cold air burning. "Did Professor Lupin know James? Were they — friends?"
Something in Snape's face clicked off.
Bingo, went a little voice in Ariel's head.
Snape was a fortress of silent rage, with his sharpened glare as the only warning before the inevitable explosion. His eyes were black holes, swallowing any light they touched, pulling Ariel into his darkness.
She stood her ground. She waited for him to say something vicious, something awful but he – didn't.
"Yes," Snape finally said, his voice low and measured, each word carefully selected, arcing between them like a fine thread of silk. "He was. One of his very best."
There was a peculiar inflection on the word best, as though it were coated in arsenic. Ariel could taste the venom in the air. She swallowed, feeling her curiosity begin to curdle into something vaguely resembling regret.
Ariel's heart pounded in her chest like a war drum. "So you and Professor Lupin didn't get along when you were students?"
His lip curled. "To put it mildly."
She hesitated before asking her next question. "Because of — whatever happened with you and James? Or was it something else?"
Snape was silent for a long moment as they continued walking again, the flickering torches casting dancing shadows across his sallow face. "People rarely change who they are at their core. Lupin stood by and allowed much to transpire without lifting a finger. I have no reason to think he is any different now."
Ariel chewed her lip thoughtfully. "But doesn't Professor Dumbledore trust him? And you trust Professor Dumbledore, don't you?"
Snape's expression did something strange then – for a split second, Ariel could've sworn that he looked surprised, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced with a scowl. "The Headmaster often sees the best in people, even when it may not exist," he said slowly – carefully – deliberately. "I trust his judgment in most matters, but on this particular subject we disagree."
Ariel considered Snape's words as stared into the distance of the deserted corridor. She wasn't entirely sure what he meant about Professor Lupin's – she supposed he was inferring that his "true nature" was well hidden – but his distrust was nearly palpable, rolling off him in waves. The question was why — even if Snape hadn't gotten along with James, there was no reason to distrust him — not after everything — he was dead, for Merlin's sake, because of her —
But —
Snape had never been wrong about anyone, either. He'd seen through Lockhart — through Quirrell.
A chill ran down Ariel's spine.
"What is it that you think Professor Lupin is going to do?" she pressed, but her voice was whisper quiet, like the breeze moving silently through the corridor. She felt it pass through her — or maybe it was Snape's gaze.
His eyes rippled, and for a moment, Ariel was reminded of the feeling of standing over a very dark and very deep well, not quite knowing where the bottom lay, only that it was there, and that it was too deep to climb out of.
"It's what I will not let him do," Snape his voice a low and dangerous rumble that seemed to echo down the hall. It made Ariel's hands go a bit numb.
She thought back to when Lupin had been hired at the start of term. Snape had been livid, storming about and railing against Dumbledore's decision. At the time she had assumed it was just — Snape being Snape. Now, though —
Lupin had been hired right after Black had escaped from Azkaban — Snape seemed intent on keeping Lupin away from Ariel specifically. Did he — did he think that Lupin might not — that Lupin wouldn't do anything if Black somehow —?
That didn't make a lick of sense, especially if he'd been close with James — her dad —
(But why hadn't Lupin told her that himself?)
"You're talking about Black, aren't you?" Ariel asked quietly. "Professor Lupin is here to help make sure he doesn't get inside the castle, isn't he? But you don't think so."
Snape didn't answer. He just stared at her, his black eyes startlingly bright, like two dying stars glinting down at her.
"Why?" Ariel pressed on. "If he was friends with James —"
"Potter was a fool," Snape snarled, his dark eyes flashing dangerously in the dim light. "A well-meaning fool, perhaps, but a fool nonetheless. His judgment was clouded by — loyalties."
Snape released a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, as if considering how to proceed. The stagnant air seemed to grow thinner as his guard lowered somewhat, revealing something behind the mask again — something Ariel had never seen before.
She moved closer — partially because she had gotten chilly again — partly as — well, she didn't really know.
"Lupin was part of Potter's band of rule-breaking miscreants who considered themselves above reproach." Snape looked away — she could see the muscle in his necks straining. "Their history is — was — complicated. They were reckless and often cruel, and Lupin, with his own afflictions to bear, did nothing to curb their behavior."
Ariel frowned. Professor Lupin didn't seem like someone who would turn a blind eye to cruelty or injustice. Then again, people were rarely what they seemed to be. She had learned that the hard way — multiple times.
"But that was years ago," Ariel protested, but her heart wasn't in it — not like it had been. "People change."
"Do they?" Snape replied without missing a beat. His voice held an edge now — a serrated blade of contained bitterness that cut deep.
She contemplated this, but her brain was starting to hurt. "Why wouldn't he tell me that they were friends? Why did it?"
His mouth twitched, almost threateningly. "Why did I not tell you that I knew your mother?"
She blinked up at him, shocked that he'd mentioned — that. "That was… different."
"Is it?" Snape inhaled sharply — if Ariel didn't know any better, she might've thought his breath caught. "To talk about someone you knew — to acknowledge it presently — to know they are nothing more than the past is — agony. Even to a coward like Lupin."
Ariel absorbed his words, her mind a whirlpool of confusion and uncertainty. Snape had never been an open book — he was a labyrinth of riddles and sharp edges, but his bitterness, his pain, was palpable and in that moment. His connection to her mother — was it also like this with James and Professor Lupin?
"Did… did Mum not get along with him, too?" her voice was slow but steady — her hands, however, trembled slightly against the cold stone wall.
Snape's eyes snapped to hers, his gaze piercing through the dim light. "No," he said, after what seemed like an eternity. His voice was soft but firm as granite. "Your mother was... different."
"Different how?" Ariel pushed on, her curiosity fueled by his rare openness. Or maybe this was simply new — she didn't really know.
A flash of something passed through his eyes — regret, maybe? "She saw things in varying colors of black and white," he said finally, his gaze falling away from her. "She was kind where others were cruel. She believed in second chances — to a point."
An uncomfortable silence hung between them as Ariel mulled over his words. Snape continued down the hallway, leaving Ariel standing there alone.
"But then —" she began, hurrying to catch up with him. "Shouldn't we give Professor Lupin one as well?"
Wouldn't you have wanted one? Or did she give you too many?
Snape didn't respond immediately, seeming to weigh her words carefully. He stopped short at a corridor intersection and turned to face her. "Your mother," he said slowly, "was not infallible."
"But you said Professor Lupin — that James is still too painful — that you could understand —"
"Hatred and understanding are not mutually exclusive," Snape replied, his tone cold. "One can understand a person and their motivations and still despise the choices they make."
His words hung thick in the air between them, a shroud of bitter reality that Ariel hadn't anticipated. She fell silent as she turned his words over in her mind, toying with their meaning. Professor Lupin had always been kind to her. It was hard to reconcile Snape's portrayal of him as a passive bystander to cruelty with the man she knew — that James could have been that way. That was what Snape was inferring, wasn't he?
Take Ariel and run — I'll hold him off —
She didn't want to think about — that — about what they had all been, once. All she cared about were the people she had now — and the people she'd been allowed to know, if only for a short amount of time.
"You still haven't told me why he would want to hurt me." Ariel said quietly.
Snape paused, his gaze hard and unyielding, framed by the dim light in the corridor. "He would not do so intentionally."
Ariel's heart skipped a beat. "Then why —"
"He would not want to," Snape interrupted firmly. "But sometimes, our desires and our actions do not align — and that is the most dangerous kind of person of all."
"That's what you said about yourself," she said, with a strength that even took her by surprise.
Snape's expression froze for a moment; a single heartbeat preserved in ice. His gaze was unreadable, but Ariel could see the subtle tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes lost focus for a split second before snapping back into place — onto her.
"Indeed," he said, his voice smoother than the silk of a spider's web, "I did."
An uneasy silence descended upon them, latching onto the cold stone walls of the corridor and creeping into her bones. Ariel couldn't tell if her teeth were chattering from the temperature or from her nerves.
"He — he's here now, though." Ariel's voice was small, as if she feared her words could fracture the reality around them. "I mean, why else would he put himself in danger?"
His gaze flickered back down the corridor, where shadows danced upon the walls. "He is here for reasons of his own, no doubt. Rest assured, Miss Evans, personal danger is not among those reasons."
"But," Ariel swallowed, her throat tight with anxiety. "You still haven't answered my question. If you don't think he'd try to hurt me, then why don't you trust him?"
The corridor echoed with silence as Snape continued to gaze into the darkness. His gaunt face seemed hollower than usual under the flickering torchlight.
"Because" Snape's voice wafted into the silence, hesitantly, like an unwelcome intruder. "one does not have to intend harm to cause it." his hand lifted, his thumb grazing her cheek. "Bad things happen, oftentimes to good people."
His hand moved to curl his fingers at the nape of her neck.
"And I am not willing to risk you to find out for certain."
Ariel found herself back in her Common Room and gazing into the fire.
She sat there, thinking. Possibly too much – but somehow, not enough.
Of one thing, she was certain.
She caught Fred sneaking in after curfew, narrowly missing Percy. She shoved a piece of parchment into his hand, and then said:
"The Slytherin bloke – tell them I'll do it."