The castle was eerily quiet on Christmas Eve. The usual hum of life had dimmed with most of the students gone, leaving only a handful behind to wander the near-empty corridors. Outside, snow blanketed the grounds, the Forbidden Forest a shadowed silhouette beneath the full moon.

Sia sat cross-legged on one of the plush armchairs in the Slytherin common room, the low fire crackling before her. Andromeda was perched on the couch beside her, legs tucked beneath her, a Transfiguration book open on her lap. They had claimed the space for themselves—everyone else who had stayed behind had retired early, leaving the room dimly lit and silent, save for the occasional flicker of green flame reflecting off the stone walls.

Andromeda had refused to go home for Christmas.

"Too much noise," she had said when Sia asked. "Too much pretending. At least here, I can study in peace."

Sia didn't press, but she understood.

They had been talking for hours—about their families, their childhoods, their worlds before Hogwarts.

Andromeda's voice was quiet when she finally admitted, "Growing up in a family like mine is... suffocating. You learn early on to say the right things, to agree with what they say, or you become an outsider. My mother is worse than my father, but neither of them hesitate to remind me of my place. Of what's expected."

Sia glanced at her, watching the way Andromeda's fingers curled against the edge of her book.

"I take it they don't approve of anything less than pure-blood supremacy?" she asked dryly.

Andromeda let out a short, humorless laugh. "That's an understatement. Bellatrix thrives under their expectations. Narcissa... she doesn't question them. But me?" She shook her head. "I'm just good at pretending."

Sia hesitated for a moment before saying, "My family was a nightmare too, in their own way. Different, but—" She exhaled. "Potions. Day and night, potions. Brewing, experimenting, memorizing formulas. It wasn't about learning. It was about perfection. If I didn't get something right on the first try, it was—" She swallowed. "They made sure I knew how much of a disappointment I was."

Andromeda's eyes flickered to her. "That's horrible."

Sia shrugged. "I had Christina. She was my only reprieve." The words felt heavier than she intended. She hadn't spoken about Christina in this way before. She hadn't let herself.

Andromeda didn't press for details, didn't ask how she had died—and for that, Sia was grateful. Instead, she shifted topics, as if sensing that Sia needed the distraction.

"I'm dating someone," she said suddenly, voice softer now.

Sia blinked. "You what?"

Andromeda smiled, though there was something strained about it. "Ted Tonks."

"The Ravenclaw?" Sia frowned. "I've heard of him. Tall, curly hair?"

"That's the one."

Sia raised an eyebrow. "And I assume your family definitely doesn't know."

Andromeda let out a short laugh. "Are you mad? They'd probably disown me on the spot. Bellatrix would kill me first. He's Muggle-born, Sia. Completely unacceptable in their eyes." She sighed, staring into the fire. "But he's… good. Kind. He doesn't make me feel like I have to pretend."

Sia studied her for a moment. "So why are you telling me?"

Andromeda smiled, but it was small, cautious. "Because I think you understand family. The kind of family that demands things from you. That forces you to be something they want, instead of who you are."

Sia looked away. She did understand. Far too well.

After a pause, Andromeda glanced at her, something amused flickering in her expression. "What about you?"

Sia frowned. "What about me?"

Andromeda smirked. "Are you interested in anyone?"

Sia immediately scoffed. "Absolutely not."

Andromeda tilted her head. "You sound awfully defensive."

"I am defensive," Sia said. "Because there's nothing to defend. I have no interest in anyone. At all."

Andromeda just hummed, lips quirking upward. "It's Severus, isn't it?"

Sia choked on air. "What?" She sat up, wide-eyed. "No. What—why would you even say that?"

Andromeda laughed, not unkindly. "Sia, you can be subtle, but I know you now. I see it."

"There's nothing to see," Sia insisted, horrified.

Andromeda merely shrugged. "I think you're drawn to him. Even if you don't realize it."

"That's ridiculous."

"It isn't," Andromeda said, voice thoughtful. "You're aware of him. You notice when he's in a room, even if you pretend not to. You glance at him when you think no one is looking. You watch him, even when you tell yourself you aren't."

Sia opened her mouth, then closed it, feeling her face heat.

"I—"

Andromeda leaned forward, watching her with amusement. "You loathe admitting it, don't you?"

Sia groaned, shoving her face into her hands.

After a moment, she mumbled, "It doesn't matter."

Andromeda's expression sobered slightly. "Because of Lily?"

Sia hesitated before nodding. "It's stupid, isn't it? Anyone with eyes can see he's in love with her."

Andromeda's voice was quieter when she said, "It's not stupid."

Sia looked at her.

Andromeda gave a small, wry smile. "You don't get to choose who you're drawn to." She exhaled. "Believe me. I know."

Sia studied her, reading between the lines of her words.

"…You're telling me to let it go," she said.

"I'm telling you to be careful," Andromeda corrected.

Sia frowned. "Because of Lily?"

Andromeda hesitated, then shook her head. "Because of him."

Sia stiffened.

"I know who he spends time with," Andromeda continued. "My family. My cousin, Regulus. Bellatrix. Rosier. Avery. All of them—meddling in things they shouldn't. He's involved in dark things, Sia." Her voice lowered. "Things that are only going to get worse."

Sia swallowed.

She had heard of the Dark Lord gathering his army. A new group of dark wizards, elusive to the Ministry, leaving destruction in their wake. Recruiting.

She thought of what her grandmother had said, about the Dark Lord trying to find their family. The Velthornes were steeped in dark magic, known across generations for their immense power. But the thing about the Velthorne family was—

You don't find the Velthorne.

He hadn't succeeded in tracking them down. But if he had, if he had known where they were—would they have joined him?

Sia wasn't in any position to judge others for their connections to dark magic.

But Andromeda's words settled uneasily in her mind nonetheless.

After a long moment, she exhaled.

"I won't pursue it," she said. "As long as I can help it."

Andromeda searched her face, then nodded. "Good."

Silence settled between them, only the soft crackling of the fire filling the space.

Eventually, Andromeda stretched, rubbing her eyes. "We should go to bed."

Sia nodded, following her up the dormitory steps.

She lay awake that night, staring at the canopy above her, thoughts restless.

She wasn't going to let herself think about Severus.

She wasn't.

But when she finally drifted into sleep, the last thing she remembered was the ghost of a touch against her throat, a murmur against her cheek—

Soft.