Ariel spent the afternoon scouring the grounds for the Not-Grim-Dog.

She found him haunting the fringes of the Forest, relieved to see him still alive. It had only been about a day, but the poor thing looked like a zombie. His ribs stuck out like prison bars against his sunken stomach, his fur matted and filthy.

Even looking not so great, the dog still seemed quite happy to see Ariel, giving excited little pants as his tail wagged a thousand miles a minute. He practically jumped on her as she reached into her pocket to give him the sausage she'd managed to snag from the Great Hall that morning. She'd had to wait until Hermione had left — Ron was still ignoring the both of them but had definitely noticed Ariel shoveling food into her rucksack, but apparently he hadn't cared enough to break his stupid vow of silence to ask her what the hell she was doing.

"Easy," Ariel warned the Not-Grim-Dog, who was scarfing down the food at an alarming speed. "I can get you more, I promise."

The dog licked at the cloth Ariel had wrapped the food in once he'd finished, giving a low whine before looking back to her. His eyes seemed… almost apologetic.

"I should have brought more," she sighed. "I'm sorry."

She'd been trying very hard to focus on one thing and one thing only that morning, and that thing had been getting food to the Not-Grim-Dog. Ariel hadn't had much room for anything else inside her brain — not Hermione, not Ron, not Snape, not her stupid detention with Professor Lupin tonight, and especially not Sirius Black. Maybe that was good practice for Occlumency — steadying her mind on a singular task, forcing yourself to work on automation, forget everything else.

The dog shoved his enormous head against her shoulder, nudging her cheek with his nose. She took this as a thank you.

Ariel smiled, her fingers curling around his fur as he settled against her side. They sat like that for a while. Out here, with the Not-Grim-Dog, Ariel felt peaceful.

Her mind wandered a bit as she kept her eyes on the grounds. There hadn't been any signs that Black could be here, but Snape nearly having a bloody aneurysm every time Ariel stepped outside the castle might've been telling enough if he hadn't been hyper-paranoid to begin with. She wondered if he'd always been like that. He must've, to have been a spy, but not too much or he would've given it away. Although, if he planned to go back —

Ariel scrubbed the hot, queasy feeling that bubbled up in the pit of her stomach away.

The dog straightened up a bit, giving her an imploring look.

"I promise I don't have any more food," Ariel said. "You cleaned me out."

The dog gave a low woof. She could've sworn he rolled his eyes as he settled his head back down on his paws.

"Must be nice," she went on, scratching behind his ears. "Not having to worry that you're being lied to."

His head snapped back up to look at her, but Ariel didn't notice, shivering against the chill of the wind. Her thoughts seemed to bend with grass, straightening her focus back to the present as the wind stilled, but it was getting harder to ignore the longer she sat there.

You know

He told you

I thought you just pretended it didn't happen

You never talked about it

Ariel hated it — all of it. She hated that she'd been lied to, hated that Hermione had known this awful thing and hadn't once tried to breach the subject. Sure, Ariel could venture why, could certainly understand if the roles had been reversed that it might've been awkward, but to have not said anything, when Hermione had known that the complicated nature of the whole stupid thing had driven Ariel mad —

She supposed she had an answer for Hermione's disapproval now, at the very least. She'd never been as open about it as Ron had — but Ron had let the House rivalries begin to cloud his judgment, she supposed, and if Snape wasn't openly claiming Ariel, maybe he didn't think it mattered anymore. He'd never said anything that wasn't true, anyway — the worst thing he'd blurted out was greasy git.

It certainly would become a problem if Ron found out what Snape had been — was. He'd go absolutely ballistic — Lucius Malfoy used to work for You-Know-Who — he's still rotten, rotten to the core, you can't just pretend all that goes away because you pretend, it never leaves —

None of it should have mattered if Mum had trusted him. Ariel did — maybe more than she ever had. He had broken it all and hadn't even known — broken it and tried so desperately to fix it —

The coin vibrated, hot against her hand.

Inside — it was quickly replaced with — now.

Ariel sighed, wrapping her cloak tighter around her as she stood. "I'll come back, okay? Just stay out of sight. Black's after me but I wouldn't put it past him to murder dogs for fun."

The dog whined, a low, mournful sound that followed Ariel all the way back up to the castle.

Remus had spent what had remained of the afternoon and most of the evening mulling over what to have Ariel do during her detention, and he'd come up empty.

He'd awoken sometime around two to find that he'd slept completely through breakfast and lunch. This wasn't exactly unusual for him, but it normally happened closer to the full moon, when the wolf began to bend his bones and break through the skin, testing its constraints before its final transformation. The days before would blur together until Remus was left in agony, left to pull himself back in, losing a little bit each and every time.

The Wolfsbane must've been the culprit — the aconite was poisonous to werewolves, and Remus had been ingesting it for nearly a month, now. Snape had mentioned to report any side effects, hadn't he?

… That didn't seem like a wise idea, anymore.

Snape. After yesterday's Boggart lesson, if he hadn't been actively trying to poison Remus, he would now. He'd felt twinges of regret, like grains of sand running through his fingers, impossible to keep, until Snape's comment —

It's not your job to coddle students who can't handle a simple Boggart —

Minerva had told him it hadn't been a good idea. Remus had known it too, but seeing Neville's face — especially after the hearsay he'd picked up on Ariel's class with Snape earlier that week — it had seemed too good of an opportunity to pass up on. Give the poor boy some power back —

It hadn't made Remus feel any better, though. It had for a fraction of a second, but doing what James would've called fighting the good fight had never made Remus feel validated or satisfied. Not when Snape's insinuations — they weren't true in the sense that Snape implied, but Remus was hiding something, something —

Remus groaned as he pushed himself up from his desk chair, where he'd forced himself to sit so that he wouldn't fall asleep again, his limbs screaming in protest. The dim light filtering through the curtains hinted at the lateness of the hour, making him wince. He hated when this happened, when time was stolen from him. Days would pass, the impact only waiting in the future, in a place where Remus didn't realize he was in until he fully came to.

It never got any easier. It had been, for a time, when —

Dragging himself to his feet, Remus stumbled towards the small table by the door where a goblet of Wolfsbane potion awaited him. He inspected it warily, wondering what other tricks it had up its sleeve. It wasn't as though Remus had much of a choice, anyways. It was a necessary evil.

But by gods, was it awful.

Remus gave it a tentative sniff, nearly gagging. He didn't know why he thought he'd get used to it — it never smelt any better. It tasted like one of James' socks after a particularly demanding Quidditch practice. Sirius had burned his laundry one night, calling it a biohazard. Peter had laughed so hard he'd fallen off the bed while James had nearly had a conniption, citing that those were his lucky ones. He'd retaliated, of course — how, Remus couldn't recall — but they'd both been assigned a detention over it —

Ariel's detention — her detention for threatening to poison herself — was tonight.

Remus set down the goblet and leaned over the table. The potion wasn't the only thing making him feel queasy, now, but the image of Ariel's face as she stared up at the wardrobe, so white that the freckles around her nose had disappeared, and she'd torn from the room like a bat out of hell. He hadn't seen her since, and Remus hadn't quite been able to shake the feeling that there was something more about what she'd been terrified of — something else entirely.

Trouble tends to find her, actually

I fear what sort of lingering effect it has on the poor thing

To make matters worse, we have —

You wouldn't know, anyway, Conscience whispered. You don't know the poor girl at all.

"No," Remus sighed to himself, falling into the rickety old armchair Lily had given him after her parents had died. "I don't."

He still couldn't quite get a read on Ariel. He saw glimpses of Lily in her daughter, less and less the more he encountered her, because Lily had never been as reserved and wary of others as Ariel seemed to be. Lily had always been rather bright and bubbly on the surface, but beneath it all had laid an exhaustion with the upkeep. She'd never looked or felt like James, although Remus supposed this was one of those cases that indicated heavily to nature versus nurture. He could only have imagined how Ariel would've turned out, had James and Lily lived long enough to have more of an influence.

It was reminiscent of what Lily had tried to hide, perhaps. She had been quietly ambitious like that — not overtly and scathingly — but softly. She'd done a lot of watching, a lot of waiting. She'd worked extremely hard but hadn't had to strain herself too much. Remus supposed she had realized that getting a job out of school wasn't going to be as easy as it might've once been — how it was now that Voldemort was gone. She'd applied for internships at every infirmary and hospitals that had a posting. Only one had called her back, despite Lily's Muggleborn status — they'd been killed a week or so later after Death Eaters had ransacked the place. The Healers there had been tending to Muggles, as well. By that point, anyway, Lily had already been pregnant —

Remus scrubbed at his face. He didn't want to remember — it had taken his years to forget without effort.

Even so, it felt much worse to try to forget. To want to forget.

Truth be told, Remus hadn't really wanted to think about it at all, and hadn't understood why he was overseeing Ariel's detention in lieu of Snape, anyway. It had been Snape's class Ariel had been insubordinate in, after all, and from what Remus had gleaned in the brief time he'd been here, Snape had very little tolerance for such things. When they'd been younger, he'd been the same way. Snape had never really needed a reason to have a go at James, but Remus had always leaned more in the direction that James had no one but himself to blame for that. Remus would've hated James too, if he'd treated him the way he'd treated Snape.

There was a timid knock at the door.

Remus' head whipped towards the old grandfather clock stuffed in the corner. A quarter to seven — drat.

He quickly moved the goblet to his desk, mussed through his hair and used a Cleaning Charm on his face to wipe the grit from his eyes before settling himself in an attempt to seem more put-together.

"Come in," Remus called, but his voice came out low and scratchy.

He cleared it quickly as the door creaked open to produce Ariel, who looked very wary. Her dark eyes glittered from the doorway at him, and there was something nearly familiar about it — perhaps the most familiar thing Remus had encountered with her — but he couldn't place why.

"Hi," Ariel said, shuffling herself in front of the door. "I'm here for… well, you know."

Her nose crinkled in annoyance. Remus tried to bite back a laugh. He should be firm, she was here as punishment, wasn't she? Although Minerva had made it sound more like she was deeply unhappy with the idea that Ariel would willingly harm herself for a bit of bravado. Remus supposed that was the real reason why she was with him and not Snape tonight.

And that was what made all the difference.

"Cup of tea?" Remus asked, looking around for his kettle. "I was just thinking of making one."

She stared at him for a moment, awkwardly, before letting her rucksack fall into a puddle by her feet. "Er — alright."

She stayed glued to her spot by the door as Remus tapped the kettle with his wand and a blast of steam issued suddenly from the spout. It had been another hand-me-down from Lily. Whatever Petunia hadn't taken from their parent's house, Lily had given it to Remus.

"Make yourself comfortable," Remus gestured to the chair that had once been her grandfather's, taking the lid off a dusty tin. "I've only got teabags, I'm afraid — but I daresay you've had enough tea leaves?"

Ariel just stared at him. Remus tried to smile at her. He felt like he was beginning to lose his mind, just a tad.

"How did you know about that?" she asked quietly after a moment. Her fingers curled into her palms like she was trying to contain something. She finally seemed to force herself to move as she stiffly plopped herself into the chair in front of Remus' desk.

"Professor McGonagall told me," Remus said, passing Ariel a chipped mug of tea. "You're not worried, are you?"

Ariel shrugged. "I've had worse."

"So I've been told," Remus tried to smile again, but it was growing harder the more he thought about it, the more he thought about how gutted James and Lily would be to see their only child so clearly unknowing of the length they had gone to — would have continued to go through — to protect her.

She fidgeted with the mug, scratching at the ceramic. "Right — well — erm — shouldn't we get on with it?"

He couldn't help it — it was so earnest and resigned, in that childlike way that was somehow endearing — that Remus' lips twitched. She slightly scowled back up at him, setting her mug on his desk to cross her arms tightly across her chest.

Remus tried to swallow his amusement. "Eager to write lines?"

She glanced up hesitantly, her dark eyes hardening. "Is that what I'll be doing, then?"

Remus watched Ariel carefully, sensing the unease radiating from her. The small talk about tea had been a feeble attempt to bridge the gap between them, to ease the tension in the room, but it was clear that Ariel needed something… more. She could see straight through Remus' — well, he called it politeness, but Sirius would've called it bullshit.

Remus decided to take the lead more directly. "I know the last Defense lesson was... difficult for you. I want you to know that I didn't intend to upset you."

Ariel stared at him, her expression unreadable. Remus could see the conflict in her eyes, the struggle between misstrust and a desire for understanding. He didn't understand the first part — although maybe he did — the Patronus —

"It's not just about the Boggart, is it?" he ventured, trying to choose his words carefully.

She looked down at her tea, seemingly lost in thought. Remus waited patiently, giving her the space she needed.

"It's just... I didn't know what it would turn into." she muttered, her mouth set in a hard line.

"I should have been more considerate," Remus admitted, his gaze focused on the swirling steam rising from his tea. "I understand that the unknown can be frightening, especially given your circumstances."

Ariel met his gaze, and for a moment, Remus saw vulnerability in her eyes. "It's just — hard."

"You're not alone in feeling that way. Many students here carry the weight of expectations, whether it's from their families or themselves. It's crucial to remember that your ability isn't solely defined by the expectations placed upon you."

Ariel nodded slowly, her fingers tracing the rim of the chipped mug. "I wish I had some control over... over everything."

She wasn't just talking about the Boggart — she meant Black, too. Voldemort — what had she seen? What had she been forced to confront in the past?

You goddamn coward — you give her tea and niceties and think it will make up for the fact that you're allowing him to —

"We can do that," Remus said.

Ariel blinked up at him. "What?"

"You want some control — your Boggart," Remus set his mug down and leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. "I need help removing it from that dusty old wardrobe, actually. Your detention will be assisting me with this."

She set down the mug with a little too much force, rattling the desk. "But — but what if —?"

"I had no intention of letting Voldemort manifest in a room of school children." Remus said gently. "And I have no intention of doing such a thing now."

She grimaced, tucking further into herself. "He's not what I'm afraid of. I don't think I do, anyway. It doesn't feel like fear. He feels like… anger."

Remus could only raise an eyebrow. He thought of James beaming at this revelation — give that tosser hell —

He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, considering Ariel carefully. Her hair was pulled back tightly into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, and her eyes were shadowed with fatigue. She was only thirteen, but her words carried with them with a maturity that he found both impressive and worrying.

"Anger," he repeated slowly. "That's an interesting way to describe it."

Ariel shrugged, her eyes downcast. "It's just... I don't know. It's not like I'm afraid of him, exactly. It's more like... I don't know how to explain it."

"And you're well within your rights to feel that way."

Her eyes hardened. "I'd say so."

He shifted in his chair, the wooden legs scraping against the stone floor. He could feel the tension building between them, but he refused to let it break. There was something about Ariel that drew him in, made him want to help her in any way he could. It was a feeling that he tried to ignore but couldn't shake.

"I don't want to make you do anything you don't feel comfortable doing," he went on, choosing his words carefully.

"I'm not afraid," Ariel's eyes were like a kaleidoscope, refracting whatever he was trying to give her to put her at ease — whatever she was truly feeling. "I'll be fine."

He considered this — she had certainly not been fine during class — but now —

Remus studied her for a moment longer before letting out a heavy sigh. "Let's get going, then."

Ariel was trying very hard to stay calm.

Professor Lupin had led them to the faculty room by wand light, the torches flickering low in from their sconces on the walls. She followed closely behind, hoping that maybe one of them would fall on her head and land her in the infirmary so that she wouldn't have to go through with this.

If that wardrobe opened and Snape walked out, she was pretty sure that was going to raise a lot of very hard questions. Professor McGonagall was already suspicious of — something — which was fine, because nothing like that was happening or had ever happened to Ariel, but Snape had just bared his biggest secret out to her and if she couldn't keep it together —

She scrambled to find something equally as awful as a homicidal Death Eater father. All she'd thought about during her Defense class had been Voldemort, but she hadn't been lying to Professor Lupin before — she truly didn't think that he was her biggest fear, but she wasn't scared of Snape, either. She was more or less petrified of Voldemort murdering Snape, now, because he would willingly return —

Oh gods, a dead Snape would've been even worse than an alive one — oh shit —

Professor Lupin unlocked the door with a tap of his wand, signaling from Ariel to light hers up as well. She let the pale light wash over the room, flicking it around to get a better look as the candelabras and torches inside began lighting themselves.

He stopped in front of the wardrobe, which Ariel was giving herself considerable distance from. She glared at it, wondering what form it had taken for everyone else. The hot, mortifying, nauseous feeling surged back into the pit of her stomach at the thought of everyone's laughter. Ariel hadn't known what was worse — those cold, bottomless, malice-filled eyes — the fact that she had seen them before — or the raucous jeering afterwards.

The wardrobe wobbled, causing Ariel to grip her wand even tighter. She felt the coin in her pocket, smooth and cool against her sweaty palms. If she called Snape, she knew he would come — he always came — but the questions —

— and she was no coward, anyways. She was no longer afraid of what Snape had been.

Every fiber of my being is for you

"Before we go any further," Professor Lupin paused for a moment, like he was having second thoughts. "Think back to what frightened you the other day in class."

"I wasn't — I wasn't feeling well —" Ariel muttered, but they both knew what had happened. She didn't know why she was bothering to try and lie about it.

Professor Lupin didn't respond to that. He stood quietly, giving the wardrobe a placating pat when it began rattling again — harder, this time. Ariel turned away to stare off into space, racking her brain for a solution to the very uncomfortable situation she was about to find herself in.

She wondered if the Occlumency could help with that. Maybe there was a way for her to block out one thing, dilute it so something else came out, something that wouldn't —

Surely not. She hadn't even been able to block out her mum's screams.

A cold, sinking feeling slid down her spine. The unshakeable, consuming darkness, a feeling like water in her lungs as she was shoved under, the vault of her heart —

"I think it's the Dementors," Ariel said, almost to herself, but Professor Lupin had tilted his head forward in acknowledgment. "I — I hate the way they make me feel… and what they make me hear."

He gave one swift, jerky nod. "I see. I know you were quite determined to learn the Patronus incantation on summer holiday. I recall you mentioning some success."

"Once," Ariel hesitated. "But I couldn't get any corporeal. Just some mist."

Professor Lupin looked surprised. "Did you, now?"

She shrugged. "It wasn't much."

"It's a start." he gave the wardrobe a quick tap with his wand, and one of the doors popped open slightly. "Give it a go now, before I let the Boggart out."

She blinked. "Aren't — aren't I supposed to turn it into something else?"

He smiled. "Not necessarily."

"The Charm will work on it?"

The wardrobe gave a frantic wobble, as if the Boggart inside knew they were discussing it.

"It takes the form of your greatest fear," Professor Lupin said. "that means it's susceptible to the same weakness."

Ariel considered this. What if she couldn't do it? She hadn't encountered a Dementor since she'd arrived at Hogwarts back in August, and she really had no desire to willingly go up against one now, not without the Patronus Charm ready to defend her at a moment's notice.

"I thought this was supposed to be a detention." Ariel grumbled, anxiety causing her hands to go a bit numb. She would've much rather cleaned out the Defense closet (which was, reportedly, still full of Lockhart's fan letters that were Charmed to be indestructible) or have been writing lines. Instead, Ariel felt like Professor Lupin had plopped her onto a tightrope, trying not to teeter too far one way without bungling the whole thing.

His brown eyes shimmered. "I've been very much under the impression that you haven't enjoyed a second of this."

"Well, then how am I supposed to conjure a Patronus?" she shot back, her annoyance quickly fizzling out when Professor Lupin's mouth tightened grimly. "I — I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated. I hate not being able to do it easily."

He sighed heavily. "It's not supposed to be easy. You have to remember, a Patronus is a manifestation of positive energy. Think of a memory that brings you happiness and light. Focus on that."

Ariel eyed the door of the wardrobe, her wand gripped tightly in her hand. She thought of what she had last time — Hogwarts looming above her, the breeze brushing against her cheek, Snape growling out a promise —

— a more recent one —

I will not leave you —

She took a deep breath and whispered. "Expecto Patronum."

A small wisp of silver smoke escaped from her wand. It wasn't much, but it was something, and even though she wanted more, Ariel supposed she had to start somewhere.

Professor Lupin nodded in approval. "Again, and this time, dig deeper. Put yourself in that exact moment."

Ariel closed her eyes and thought hard.

She was there, back under that rock, only she didn't know why. There were only so many emotions she had just begun to get a handle on, but even in the chaos of her own heart, Snape's hands on her face, the manic light in his eyes that had so desperately wanted her to see — it had been the most steadying thing she'd ever had in her life.

She held onto that memory with all her might, the feel of Snape's rough hands on her face, the sound of his voice in her ear. She saw herself as she had been then, vulnerable, and desperate for someone to hold onto.

She opened her eyes and pointed her wand towards the wardrobe. "Expecto Patronum!"

Something whooshed suddenly out of the end of her wand, something more than the light or mist. It almost looked like the exhaust when Uncle Vernon's car had backfired once.

Ariel felt her mouth split into a grin. "Did you see that?"

"Very good," Professor Lupin said, almost looking surprised. His eyebrows nearly touched his forehead. "Right, then — ready to try it on a Dementor?"

"Yeah," Ariel said, gripping her wand very tightly, and moved closer to the wardrobe.

She tried to keep her mind on her father, but any second now, she would hear her mother — no — she couldn't think that. She had to clear her mind, block out everything else, not let Voldemort seep into everything, but there was a piece of her, so small and raw, that longed to hear her mother again, even if it was —

"Let it out," Ariel said quietly. "I'm ready."

He hesitated, which made the feeling slip even further away. Before Ariel could say anything, though, Professor Lupin jerked the wardrobe door open all the way, his wand at the raised as he moved to stand beside her.

"Steady, now," he murmured.

The Dementor floated from the inky blackness, a hooded face turned toward Ariel, its black cloak trailing behind it like a living shadow. The lamps around the room flickered and went out. It swept silently — almost too silent — before drawing a deep, rattling breath. A wave of piercing cold broke over her —

She pointed her wand at it and yelled. "Expecto Patronum!"

But nothing came out. She tried again, but still, nothing happened. The Dementor was too close now, and Ariel could feel its icy fingers closing in on her heart —

The Dementor was dissolving, and Ariel was falling again through thick white fog, and her mother's voice was louder than ever, echoing inside her head — the vault cracked open so wide that it was a physical pain in her chest —

Not Ariel! Please — I'll do anything —

Stand aside — stand aside, girl!

Please, take me instead —

Stand aside, you silly girl —

Someone was calling her name —

There was a warm arm around her shoulders, shaking her awake as Ariel jerked back to life. Professor Lupin was crouched over her, propping her up so that she was leaning against his side. She shuddered, wiping the cold sweat from her forehead. Almost instinctively, she turned towards Professor Lupin, who seemed to be radiating heat, trying to get closer to the source. Her hands felt like icicles.

She didn't have to ask what happened.

"Sorry," Ariel strangled out. "M'sorry."

"Are you alright?" Professor Lupin asked, his voice thick with worry.

"I'm fine," why can't I do it why can't I do it —

"Here," he handed Ariel a chocolate frog and stood up quickly. "Eat this. I didn't expect you to do it your first time. I would have been astounded if you had."

"That time was a lot worse," Ariel muttered, biting off the Frog's head. "I could hear her louder that time — and him — Voldemort —"

Professor Lupin looked paler than usual. It took Ariel a moment to realize why he was staring at her like that — like he'd seen a ghost.

"I hear — my mum." she didn't know why she was telling him this. He didn't need to know. "I hear Voldemort murdering her."

Professor Lupin raised a hand, and for a moment, Ariel thought he was going to put a hand on her shoulder again. He quickly jerked it back, though, like he'd been electrocuted, stuffing his hands deep inside his pockets instead.

"That's why you were so determined." he said, but it wasn't directed at Ariel, and there was a great deal of guilt settled behind it, like a curtain had been parted for a brief moment. "That must be — strange," he said quietly. He glanced away from her suddenly, his face filled with a mixture of sadness and awe. "To have something like that in the back of your mind all the time… I can only imagine what it must feel like for you… for it to be so vivid in your memories."

For a long moment there was nothing but silence as they both looked at each other, Professor Lupin clearly stricken.

"It's all I have of her," Ariel said, and it was true — the memory Mum had left was hers, not Ariel's. "It's the only part of her I remember, and it's her last moments."

His face tightened. "If you don't want to continue, I more than understand. I am — sorry. If I had known…"

"No," Ariel said, shoving the rest of the chocolate frog in her mouth. "That's what I mean —it's my memory. I don't want the Dementor's control it — I won't let them. This is — the best way I can learn, isn't it? Facing it head on?"

Professor Lupin nodded slowly. He seemed to be lost in thought, his eyes darting across the room as if he was searching for something. Ariel almost asked what he was thinking, but she didn't want to disrupt the moment with her own questions. She let herself lean back against the cool stone floor, letting out a long sigh as she tried to calm her racing heart.

"Sometimes, the only way past is through," Professor Lupin said, then, quietly, almost reverently. "Tell me when you're ready."

The girl arrived a little after ten o'clock.

She seemed distracted, hanging her cloak on the hook beside the door, as though it were the most natural thing in the world — as though she had never stopped. Severus tried hard to ignore the burn in his chest at this.

"You're late," Severus said flatly. He would have gone looking for her earlier, but he'd watched the coin finally change locations a quarter after, monitoring her trek down to the dungeons. It had taken an alarming amount of strength for Severus not to barge in and whisk the girl away from Lupin. He'd come close, towards the beginning, but he'd had his own detention to oversee.

The girl looked at him, her expression blank. "Sorry," she muttered, her eyes shifting around the room uneasily. "I got held up."

She stayed put in the doorway, her eyes fixed on some distant point. Her face was pale, and she looked disheveled, her wine-red hair pinned back in messy waves, the color bleeding into the air around her with flyaways. Severus thought about going to her, but before he could move, the girl's gaze swung over him briefly, but unmistakably — its weight almost made him sway on his feet as it caused something to stir within him.

Severus raised an eyebrow at her, instead, trying to disguise his growing concern. He watched her throat bob, like she was swallowing hard, and before he could register whatever that look was, she was barreling towards him like a freight train, her hands grabbing onto his robes and burying her face against his chest.

She was quite small, but he could feel the heat of determination radiating from her as she held onto him tightly — like a fire trying to fight its way out after being doused in water for too long.

"What is — happening?" Severus strangled out.

The girl didn't move, but her breathing hitched slightly.

Severus let out a frustrated breath, his mind racing. He had never been one for physical contact and was unsure of what to do with the girl in his arms. For a moment, he hesitated, his hands hovering awkwardly over her back as he struggled to understand just what in the sodding fuck was happening.

The girl's grip on him didn't waver, even as he stood frozen. It felt like an eternity before she finally spoke, her voice muffled by the fabric of his robes.

"Just — give me a minute." she whispered, her voice thick.

He finally brought his arms around her, holding her tightly as if he could anchor her to this moment with him.

One thought pervaded:

I am going to kill the werewolf

"What did he do?" Severus asked, his voice a low hiss.

Miss Evans finally pulled away, sniffling, but her eyes looked dry, albeit a bit bloodshot. She shook her head at him before looking away, biting her lip.

"He didn't do anything," she said in one fast breath, as if saying it out loud made the thought real enough to break apart. "It was me."

She stepped away from him, then, and Severus watched her take a few slow steps towards the window before turning back around to face him again; he noticed how much smaller she suddenly seemed amidst all of the shadows.

Severus's chest tightened. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he resisted the urge. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and met her gaze with a steely one of his own — although she was likely too lost in thought to register it, now.

"Very well," Severus said slowly after a few moments of tense silence passed between them; leaving it at those two words nearly took the last of his self-control. "Then what is wrong?"

She only shook her head. "I'm alright — it doesn't matter. I just needed a minute."

Severus felt something inside of him start to unravel, and he knew that if this went on much longer, he would lose control. Every second was a mini eternity as his patience evaporated like water in the desert sun.

"It does matter," Severus spat out through gritted teeth. "You came here for a reason, did you not?"

Her eyes flashed — something swelled beyond her sadness. "I came here for the Occlumency lesson you demanded we start tonight."

"Consider yourself pardoned, then," Severus snarled back, and she flinched. "You'll accomplish nothing, in this state."

"I accomplished a whole lot, actually." Miss Evans snapped back. "That's why I was late. I was able to conjure a Patronus — twice — even with a Dementor —"

Severus felt something inside of him snap.

"A what?" he said, a bit too loudly for his liking, but with enough menace that the girl shrank back.

The girl seemed to spasm — her eyes had gone wide — alarmed. "Merlin — not a real one! Professor Lupin used the Boggart from our lesson yesterday."

I am going to kill him — I'm going to turn the Wolfsbane into a fucking paralytic and skin his hide during the next full moon —

"I thought this was supposed to be a detention." Severus growled, giving her a pointed look.

Miss Evans shrugged. "He said he needed help moving it back to his office."

"That's not an excuse," Severus said coldly, narrowing his eyes at her. "Lupin should have known better than to involve you."

"It was my choice," she argued back stubbornly. "It would've happened during class, anyways. It wasn't fun — I fainted a couple of times, he kept having to give me chocolate —"

The next thing Severus knew, his arm had shot out to maneuver her to the couch. He yanked her down, Summoning the coffee table with a loud crack so that he was sitting atop it, their knees touching as he began to run a Diagnostic.

"Snape —" she tried to shoo him away, but he pinned her hand down. "It wasn't a real one!"

Severus ignored her and continued work. Her heart rate was abnormally high, but he supposed that could be explained away by the stressful night.

"Did you use the Charm?" Severus ground out, pointing at her chest.

She shook her head. "I thought it would raise too many questions."

Now the girl thought practically. Severus rolled his eyes, watching the Diagnostic blink back at him — everything else seemed stable, but the girl looked absolutely exhausted.

"Explain why you agreed to this," he said acidly. "What in Merlin's bloody name made you think that you were in any way prepared?"

She looked away for a moment before meeting his gaze with an unwavering stare. "I wanted to prove I could do it," she said simply. "Also, I wasn't under the impression I could refuse. It was a detention, remember?"

Severus shook his head in disbelief. She was so stubborn sometimes that it bordered on self-destructive. The thought of her fainting multiple times during what was supposed to be a minor task made his blood boil with anger. There was something else mixed in with that fury — something that made it pale in comparison —

He shook himself out of it and turned to face her squarely on the couch. "Listen carefully," he said sternly. "No more. I won't have you running yourself ragged trying to prove a point."

Her face fell. "I told Professor Lupin I wanted to come back to try again. It — helped."

Goddamn motherfucking WEREWOLF —

Severus shoved — that — out of his frame of mind. "Yes, fainting on multiple occasions is a fantastic indication of progress."

She glared at him. "My Patronus got stronger every time I tried. Don't you want me to be able to defend myself?"

"Don't ask stupid questions."

She sighed heavily and leaned back against the couch cushions, looking defeated. "It's not just about proving myself," she muttered almost too quietly for him to hear.

"Explain." Severus ordered flatly.

"I heard — more."

Severus stilled. He didn't want to know — couldn't even begin to force himself to form the words to ask her to stop —

"I heard voices — Mum. She was pleading with him, and he just laughed." her hands curled into fists. "And I — I heard —" her mouth moved for several seconds, like she was struggling to find a way to get whatever it was out. "I heard James. He shouted for her to run — I could hear the door splintering —"

No —

You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child?

Shut up shut it up —

They can die, as long as you have what you want?

Stop — stop it —

Hide them — hide them all —

"I don't want to hear them like that ever again." she whispered, her voice throbbing like a heartbeat. Severus could feel it reverberating inside of his own. "No one should be able to touch it — it's the only memory I have of them — I don't want anyone to be able to force it from me."

Severus had gone very still, his mind bright, like he was in a room of mirrors, watching the light refract, growing brighter and brighter. He could hear his breaths coming out very short and shallow — like he was struggling to keep it all inside, an effort that seemed more futile the longer his mind went on. His vision swam before settling back into place and in that moment, everything felt crystal clear —

She wasn't just doing this for herself or out of some misplaced sense of responsibility — she wanted it so she could protect them — their memories and dignity — even beyond death.

"I suppose I should have expected this response from you," he said finally. "I had thought you would have put this endeavor behind you, but you don't give up, do you?"

She shook her head vehemently. "Not on this. Not ever. And definitely not because of him."

He leaned forward so that they were at eye level. "Your mind is your greatest stronghold — it's far larger than the walls of this castle, and it can be stronger than even the most intricate of Wards. No one should be able to touch it without consent — not the Dementors or the Dark Lord. If you are willing — as you were with Lupin tonight — I will make sure it is protected."

Something moved in the girl's face. A kind of slow surprise, like she was just realizing what he had said and its implications. Her eyes widened slightly before settling back to normal again, her mouth curled up at the corner, very softly, as though she didn't want him to see.

That brief glimpse was enough for Severus.

A/N: *Waves awkwardly*

Over the past few months, I've received a lot of messages asking me to continue on here and other platforms since some people can't access AO3, so that's what's happening here. You can read up until Chapter 69 over there, but I'll be uploading what's been written to here as well, if this is your only platform.

I've been told most of the awful bugs that discouraged me 2 years ago have been better so... we'll see. Alright, see ya'll in like, 40 chapters.