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Chapter Text

His nervous pacing stirred my patience. Since finding myself a seat in the parlour, Draco’s breathing declined rapidly into a rather irregular pattern. The hollow crack of knuckles sounded once again from behind my chair. Across the room, Narcissa’s hands curled tight in a fist upon her lap. Her solemn gaze focused beyond the transom window to the left. To turn my neck so far would be too strenuous. Instead, I fixed my sight down the dark corridor before me.

The weakest of candles diffused long, lifeless shadows upon the exposed stone walls. Anonymous floorboards creaked in the cold autumn draught. My knuckles found themselves clenched between my thighs, white as winter. Eerie suspense numbed my limbs long ago. I could no longer be sure if my shaking hands had resulted from my fear of the impending or the sheer coldness of Malfoy Manor. My throat was bone dry.

Draco cleared his throat hastily and halted beside my chair, “I’ll go first.” He had tried to cover the voice crack. In an unfamiliar way, it was reassuring to know he was just as afraid as I was, “Maybe you could escape.” Through my drawn hesitation, I glanced over at Narcissa. She hadn’t heard a word of Draco’s plea. I nodded measly in acknowledgement, with no intention to flee.

The offer to stay at Malfoy Manor during the summer was spontaneous yet courteous. I had been beyond familiar with the Malfoys from a young age, but I never expected to find a home within theirs. Following my father’s death, Narcissa extended her invitation to my mother until protection from the Dark Lord could be secured. One condition for such protection was my official promotion to Death Eater. I understood from a young age that such promotion would eventually be expected of me, however I had hoped that, at the very least, my Hogwarts days would be behind me. The flooding feeling of sickness after establishing these conditions was yet to leave my stomach.

Puncturing the grimmest of silences, the towering door at the end of the winding corridor creeped open. Rusting hinges grated viciously against one another. A short, vermin-like man who I, and most others, recognised as Wormtail slipped out from behind the door. Draco grazed his fingertips gently upon the armrest of the chair I now sat upright in, concluding his ominous pacing.

Wormtail’s eyes met mine as he pulled the door closed behind him, “Draco? Adeline? The Dark Lord will see you now.” His words were rushed and shaky. Something appeared to be agitating him, more so than usual. Draco offered his hand. Such gallant gestures were so greatly unpredictable in his case. Pathetically, I placed my hand in his. I stood too soon, and overestimating the strength of my legs, I took a brief plummet to the floor. The well of salty tears tried its best to remain reserved.

Without hesitation, Draco bent to help me. I hooked my arm around his and cooperated in stabilising my balance, “It’s okay, Adeline. We’ll be okay.” As he led me form the parlour, I stole a final glance at Narcissa. I expected no affirmation or reassurance, although a brief glaze of guilt passed over me. She carried twice the burden of nerves; of course, my mother was nowhere to be seen.

Before reaching Wormtail, I pinched Draco’s blazer tightly. “Please don’t let this change things between us,” I muttered, looking up at him. He barely nodded, yet I trusted his oath. I knew Draco well enough to know he never makes a blind promise, at least not where I’m concerned.

I switched my focus to the man before us. The silence was truly unbearable. Wormtail seemingly paid no heed to Draco, but as he passed us in the corridor, his silver fingers brushed my shoulder, “He’d be so proud of you, Avery,” he declared. It took me no time to recognise the reference to my father. Given the premises upon which my father lost his life, I very much doubted he would be proud of this. As much was my habit, I couldn’t bring myself to retort. Peter looked much rougher compared to the last time I had seen him.

Draco slid his arm from my grip and reached for the worn doorknob. The tremors in his hand were difficult to miss. For as long as I had known Draco, not once do I remember him appearing so tense. Even when Lucius first taught us to operate broomsticks was Draco as apprehensive.

Draco led us into the small study in which the Dark Lord has stationed himself. I remember hiding in small, hidden room like this with Draco when we were a lot smaller. We were hiding more often than we were not back then. I knew Draco intricately prior to our first year at Hogwarts; he’d been one of the few friends I had managed to maintain through childhood. I trusted him, and I liked to think he trusted me, although there was every doubt in my mind that such trust would stand for nothing beyond this room.

“My two newest recruits?” the Dark Lord groaned as we were greeted by his washed-out cloak. He faced the crackling log fire as Nagini coiled herself neatly besides. “I can almost smell your fear. You aren’t… scared, are you?”

His uneven, enticing voice indicated to me that he intended to humiliate us. Humiliated wouldn’t quite describe how I felt – nauseated might just have covered it.

I knew it wasn’t wise to leave him without a sufficient answer. “Yes, my Lord,” I croaked, my voice splitting so obviously. Almost any reply would have been better than none.

He chuckled loosely, coming away from the fire and around the black leather couch to greet us face-to-face. As he neared, I felt Draco’s presence almost disapparte. Of course, I could still see his polished shoes from the corner of my eye, but still I felt abandoned.

“I know you both are aware of my expectations. Those who are intelligent, or who wish to survive, shall abide by them. Those who cannot face grave consequences.” His raspy groans echoed maliciously around the miniature library and undoubtedly whirled down the corridor too, “There is something you can both learn from your fathers – how to just survive. It’s a great wonder your father is still alive, Draco.” I didn’t need to raise my head to know the glare I was just given. I shuffled my feet, gripping my right elbow with my left hand. I could only assume Draco was stood in a similar, if not identical, position. If I had ever felt fear before, it didn’t come close to this.

Brief silence greeted us once again. “Ladies first, Avery?” the Dark Lord prompted, rushing to stand in his initial position by the fire. As much as I wanted to hesitate, as much as I wanted to look to Draco for reassurance, I couldn’t bring myself to refuse command. As I betrayed Draco’s prior plea, I traipsed over to my Lord, weaving slightly to avoid Nagini’s now uncoiled body. Without having to look back, Draco’s icy stare sliced through my heart strings and teased my tears closer to their edge. I refused defeat once more and swallowed the salty water back down into my empty stomach. Already, I felt faint.

My knees felt as though they could snap like lead, but I was far too focused to let myself fold before the Dark Lord. As though it were second nature, my sweaty palm creased the left sleeve of my blouse up to my elbow, exposing pale skin. My skin wasn’t quite as watery as Draco’s, although our washed-out skin tones had frequently been compared. I always had thought the silver of our Quidditch robes complimented us so seamlessly, yet I tended to avoid paler colours all the same. Any distraction to the event at present I could garner, I did.

The rickety wand possessed by the Dark Lord laid insecure in his hands. It seemed that, at any point, it could simply fall from his grip. Through stained irises, I watched my arm tremble. Feeling had not yet returned fully to my previously numb limbs, but I knew my legs could not be trusted with my body weight much longer.

A gentle, yet rough to touch hand came under my slim wrist, holding it in place. As the rickety wand jabbed towards my skin, excruciating pain ripped through my forearm, tearing open the thin tissues of my skin. A crimson blush rose to the surface as the sable, jinxed ink tore though my veins. My shrieks could not compensate for the aching agony I was enduring. The grip on my wrist tightened, limited my circulation. Perhaps I tried to pull away. A million needles stabbed into my porcelain forearm, each one leaving a blossoming bruise. My lungs were captured by high-pitches cries and howls. This pain could never be matched.

My arm was jerked back to my possession, most likely in abhorrence of my weakness. I collapsed to the wooden floor, clutching my raw limb as though it had been ripped from its socket. Nagini’s head slithered slowly by mine as I laid presumably dead on the cold walnut planks, her forked tongue flickering violently. She was hungry – I was not about to become her next meal. Conducted by discreet murmurs from my counterpart, I raised myself with velocity, sending my vision into a vicious spiral. My view of Draco’s branding was restricted through misted eyes, although I could not have avoided his ghastly grunts and groans of torture.

In that moment, I had never shared sympathy as passionately with anyone as I did with Draco Malfoy.

Chapter Text

I examined her as she slipped through the doorframe, seemingly unnoticed. It was strange for Adeline to be late – generally, she was rather punctual. She meandered over to the seat between myself and her mother which I had saved. It seemed as though no one had noticed her enter. Conversation engulfed the room, which was a welcomed change to the silence of yesterday.

Adeline wore the same clothes as she had yesterday. The creases in her silk blouse led me to question if she had slept in her clothes, although from judging the dark circles under her eyes, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she hadn’t slept at all. I’m not sure I did, either. The lingering pain was unendurable, to say the least.

Not a word of the table’s conversation had passed my ears. In familiar fashion, Adeline took a lonely stroll for most of yesterday’s evening. I left her alone. Not because I chose not to care – quite the opposite. I, also, did not want the company. A constant rush of pride, guilt, and devastation would have been too much for anyone, no less Adeline. In close to no time, I had decided that my new mark was ugly, to say the least. It had now been close to a day since our initiation; I was more than desperate to know whether all her hope for the upcoming year had perished overnight like mine had.

Without moving it, Adeline slid into the empty chair and glanced at the meeting’s audience to greet them. A lack of returned greeting was noticeable – we may as well have not been there. Even her mother, Vestara, spared no smile.

While others remained distracted in conversation, my attention could only be directed towards Adeline. Without a word, she bunched her sleeve back to her elbow, revealing a battlefield of bruises and contusions. Mulberry blooms clustered down her forearm, each one delicately outlined with a canary crust. I didn’t know one person could bruise quite like that. The remnants of my branding were faint blushes compared to hers.

“I hate it,” she whispered. She was certainly bold for admitting that before Bellatrix, who sat directly across from me. Luckily, nobody had chosen to listen anyway, “what have we done?”

Before I could conjure a response, a deafening apparition crack drowned any other sound out. Voldemort assumed the head of the barren table. After being summoned to a meeting, I became almost certain of the reason behind it. Of course, there is rarely any way to predict what he may do next.

During the summer, it became apparent to me that Adeline knew very little about Voldemort and his operations. Despite being raised of two of his most publicised followers and facing great criticism from other students at Hogwarts, she managed to shield herself from taking too much information in - perhaps in attempt to delay the inevitable. Clearly, it was unsuccessful. I believe much of her evening yesterday was spent acknowledging how things are about to change for the worse, as I had also concluded.

That same uneven silence shrouded all in the room. Only Bellatrix had dared to look Voldemort in the eye. The remainder of us bowed our heads at varying angles, Vestara’s being the closest to the table. I couldn’t move a toe.

“Our meeting today is short…” he drew out in that same croaky voice, “but vital nonetheless.” The underlying groan of his speech suggested to me that he was already tiresome of the dismal audience before him.

Craning his neck around to look at the newest recruits, I raised my head slightly out of instinct. Adeline was frozen still. Of course, this was her first time attending a formal meeting such as this. My parents had been infinitely more successful in inaugurating me into my presumed role as a Death Eater. Without blinking, Voldemort sighed deeply, “Due to your attendance at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, your tasks will be of a more… high demand than usual. Failure to perform may have grave consequences.” He leaned over towards the Averys in clear attempts to intimidate and humiliate them. By the grizzly look on Carina’s face, his technique was working.

Why Vestara brought Carina along to the meeting was beyond me. I’m usually no stickler for equality, but the Averys’ favouritism was astonishing. Adeline was deprived of the advantage of familiarity with Voldemort, and nothing much has ever been expected of Carina. Although it must be said, Carina’s soft, approachable nature is one of very few reasons she and Adeline could remain at Hogwarts for so long without the shadow of absolute chaos and torment. Adeline would have had very little to do with that.

Adeline inhaled awkwardly at the subtle reference to her father. Vestara turned to face the window opposite the Dark Lord; the same one my own mother was so fixed on yesterday. That brief statement from Voldemort was enough to cause a ripple of discomfort throughout the entire table. “You know just as well as anyone, Vestara, that your husband was a liar, fool, and traitor,” a sudden flash of rage overcame him, cautioning us all. Anyone would have known better than to challenge Voldemort, but understandably, the topic of Fionn Avery was still very much a sensitive one. Seemingly, Vestara’s vigilance slipped her momentarily, “His dishonesty sent him to the grave.”

Clearly maimed by his words, Adeline and Carina remained focused on the wooden surface in front of them. From below my brow, I caught Bella’s yellow grin. I despised her ignorance at times, although I, more than often, was no better.

“Draco,” Voldemort turned to me, flattening his tone, “you are surely aware that one of my greatest obstacles to reaching Harry Potter is your headmaster.” Beside me, mother gripped the armrests of her chair. She sat still. Tense. I nodded certainly, almost convinced of the order I was about to be given. I knew it.

Below the table, Adeline’s flimsy fingers grasped the lower hem of my blackest blazer. The fragility of her muscles was so painstakingly obvious. It was truly unnerving to see her… scared. Any other time, such a description of Adeline would be far from plausible.

“As most of your forthcoming year shall be spent in his presence, I am certain you are the most reasonable candidate for this task. You must kill Albus Dumbledore.” Even Bellatrix gasped at the words as they left the Dark Lord’s mouth. I wanted to hide my face from the expressions of shame I was sure to be displaying. Instead, I cowered back into my chair, remaining silent. Reaching down, I covered Adeline’s small hand with mine. Holding it would be too obvious, yet I knew such a simple gesture would be appreciated.

As I was sure to explore from the pressure rushing to my head, attention fell back on Adeline. Her grip on my blazer tightened noticeably. I remained entirely unbothered, but cupped her hand a bit closer, “You have few allies. Overall, you’re… somewhat discreet.”

There was great truth to what Voldemort had said. Adeline was known across the school; she had been from first year. Everybody acknowledged her academic power, and in my younger years, I took great pleasure in watching Potter’s face crisp when Adeline had been compared to Hermione Granger. Adeline’s reputation was far from clean – it was widely known that she was the less approachable Avery. She picked her battles carefully and left them all with glory to her powers. Being a part of her ‘circle’ was like being in a premium club. That circle really meant close to nothing. No one, apart from myself, was ever hidden from her wrath. She protected herself and, up until recently, her family name very well. I, of course, had always been safe from her antics, but my victory over her in second-year duelling club was greatly responsible for that. Even now, she refuses to forget that loss.

Adeline nodded in acknowledgement of Voldemort, knowing his assumption was near enough spot on. “Your task is similar to that of Draco’s yet carries twice the burden. For the same reasons as Draco is tasked with eliminating your headmaster, I expect you to rid me of Miss Hermione Granger… and Mr Ronald Weasley. Both are far too great an ally to Harry Potter to remain alive.”

Without pause or hesitation, Voldemort rose from his seat at the head of the table, reached for Nagini, and disapparated from the manor. Every muscle of mine relaxed, almost dropping my jaw to my lap. It was enough to kill one person, but two? Two favoured students? It was no secret that the Averys sat in few good books, but this was sure to promise their demise upon failure. In truth, one could be sure that the Dark Lord had set Adeline up on purpose.

I was in no different of a position. Dumbledore was great, regardless of the opinions of my now fellow Death Eaters. I had no doubt these tasks had been handed to us due to the mistakes of our fathers. Failing would seal my fate, along with my family’s.

Someone in the audience began to sob warily, but my fixation remained so strongly on my lap that I wasn’t quite able to determine which Avery it was. Seconds later, my hand was pushed aside as Adeline left the table. Once again, nobody seemed to notice her dismissal. The blanket of shock still laid thick upon us all. I thought carefully, and soon stood to follow Adeline. The familiar apparition crack of a few seconds prior told me all I needed to know of her new location. While there was every possibility I was wrong, for her own safety, I prayed I was right.

Chapter Text

“Why do you still come here? I’ve told you, it’s not safe.” I turned my head enough to see slightly past my shoulder. Draco stood with his hands in his pockets only a few steps from where I’d perched. He frowned in disapproval, scrunching his nose between his eyebrows. His white locks had been tossed and tugged apart, yet his suit remained close to immaculate. Draco was paler than usual. I didn’t know that was even possible. I rolled my neck back to the vast lake before me. Lavender mist coated the water’s surface, erasing the alpine forest beyond. As the late summer sun dipped between the distant hills, a faint raspberry tint painted the unsheltered snippets of forest I sat amongst. “Do you hear me?”

“There’s nothing here, Draco,” I huffed in response, “you’re paranoid.” I hadn’t yet decided if I wanted the pleasure of his company. There wouldn’t be too much I could do if I decided I didn’t. Draco always had an unforeseen capability to make any conversation depressing; this time, I doubt he would have needed to try. He thrusted his hands further into his pockets as he squinted over the glassy lake.

“I’m trying to protect you, Adeline. Merlin knows what’s in these bloody forests.”

“Whatever’s in there isn’t right here. Do you see any dragons?” Silencing Draco was sometimes the best part of my day. I appreciated his compassion, no matter how limited it generally is. A Dark Mark did not make me weak, nor did it render me helpless. I can look after myself. “If you must know, there are thestrals here. They have a nest just a bit east of this bench. It’s a shame you can’t see them, really. They’re absolutely-.”

“Beautiful, so you’ve said. Millions of times before.” I rolled my eyes at a hideous attempt to lighten the mood. Such abilities were infrequently in Draco’s range. From the corner of my eye, all I could see was an abundance of platinum hair – I still knew him well enough to know a shit-eating grin was plastered between his cheeks. A silence fell between us, one quiet enough for me to focus, “Pack it in.”

A second of processing was necessary. I caught on soon enough, “Sorry. I can’t help it.” I apologised genuinely. Using legilimency had recently become a sporadic event for me, especially since my father died. Having full control of my skills was a feature I previously took for granted; it’s gotten me into far too much trouble this summer alone. I learnt quickly that not many people are able to block it as well as they think they can. Draco was not one of them. “It’s not that bad here, Draco.”

He glared at me with icy eyes, as though he wanted me to catch alight. Draco came to fill the empty space beside me, blocking an increasingly irritating breeze, “You always come here when something is wrong. Seriously wrong.”

I almost wanted to laugh. “Tell me what’s going right. Don’t change the subject, either.” In all honesty, I would have loved nothing more than a subject change. That wouldn’t be possible. While Draco never avoided confrontation, it was often that he’d avoid fact.

Finally, the bank of tears overflowed, “tell me what’s right, Draco.” My voice trembled as I did my best to get through my words. I released a heavy sob, dropping my head into my hands, “I’ll never be able to do this. The fuck is going on?”

As I cried, Draco placed a firm hand in the middle of my back, swiping small circles into my spine. He exhaled, hesitant to respond, “At least I know I’m not insane.” I didn’t care to investigate who wouldn’t think this entire situation isn’t devastatingly crazy, “It seems impossible now, I know, but we don’t have a whole lot of choice”.
“Yeah,” I huffed through inhales, “I gathered as much.”

+

At the start of August, witches and wizards of all ages flooded into Diagon Alley. This year, most of them were headed in the same direction. West of the small crevice I’d nuzzled into was the newly opened Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. From passing customers, I had gathered that their stock consisted mainly of practical, useless items, most of which I had seen in the corridors many times before.

I’d been waiting in this tight corner for close to half an hour at this point. I’d decided to tag along with Draco and his mother to complete my purchases for this school year. I hadn’t heard too much of their squabble with Potter in Madame Malkin’s, yet both Malfoys had exited with drawn wands. It would seem this dispute was not as light-hearted as usual. Twilfitt and Tatting’s tended to be the Malfoy’s first choice of boutique, but with Lucius locked away one would assume money was tighter than normal.

Even with my own father dead and gone, mother would never neglect me so as to make me purchase from Malkin. Not even the green tie.

A chirping bell in the echoes of the alley reconnected my attention to the boutique that Draco and Narcissa were exiting. I had spent so much time awaiting them, it appeared they had indeed forgotten me. Not even my white-blonde hair guided them to my corner. In dark and dismal places such as Diagon Alley, my unfortunate hair colour never usually failed to act as a beacon.

I watched as the pair manoeuvred into Knockturn Alley. Before I could gear myself to go, I caught a glimpse of the dreaded trio at the door of that old, glorified joke shack. Weasley, as per, was snacking on some kind of sweet treat, clutching the paper bag in the bend of his arm. Potter examined Draco up and down, and in seconds, the three has decided to follow the Malfoys with little caution about them. Knowing Knockturn Alley better than most, I reversed down a smaller pathway that would come to cross their path. Despite not knowing where Draco was headed, I could soon figure it out.

Sure enough, our paths crossed. leaning against the rough cobbled that encased the treasures of Borgin & Burke’s, I greeted the three as they emerged from a damp, paved trail. Timing had meant I’d skimmed the chance to enter the shop with the two Malfoys, however the alternative opportunity that I had been presented was similarly satisfying. “I’d never have expected to see you lot here. What brings you to Borgin & Burke’s this weekend?” sneering, I crossed my arms defensively across my stomach. At the back of the pack, I just noticed Ron slide his wand from an elongated pocket sewn into his tatty trousers, “Wands away, Weasley. It’s an innocent intention to want to catch up with old friends, is it not?”

An arrogant scoff escaped Hermione. Usually cowering behind Weasley in confrontations like these, it was almost pleasant to see she’d grown something of a backbone. “I knew I caught a faint whiff of Mudblood. How have you been, Hermione?” I smiled as she bowed her head sheepishly. Neither of my questions had yet been answered. In fact, not a word had been spoken by any of them, yet I had already claimed a small victory of humiliation.

Quite obviously, Ron gripped his wand even tighter. ‘Threatened’ was never a feeling I associated with a Weasley, and even if I did, no spell would be cast without Potter’s order. All eyes were on Harry following the battle in the Department of Mysteries though. He couldn’t afford any more attention.

“I suppose you’re here waiting for your toy boy?” Potter asked, placing his shoulder before Hermione. It was interesting to see how my crossed arms caused them so much dilemma. As far as any of them knew, I had no more reason to be here than they did. Truthfully, I wasn’t entirely sure of the business Draco held with this store. Really, I was just as clued in as they were.

“Excuse me?” The only response I could muster.

“You heard me, Avery.” Potter elaborated, holding a stern, grudged tone. The cooling winds of Knockturn Alley raised the short hairs on my arms. Above us, the ashy clouds grew darker, twisting into themselves. In recent times, it was dark and dismal constantly.

A crack of thunder curled around the alley, scraping at the already chipped walls. The murmur of panic from beyond the twisted paths of Knockturn Alley suggested danger. From the window behind the trio before me, Draco glared to examine our encounter. The familiar face of disgust was framed by suspended artefacts, none of which anybody had bought in at least thirty years. Whatever business he had in there, it was of no-good nature. I assured myself, however, that it wouldn’t take me long to figure it out.

“I’d suggest leaving before you have to dig any more graves. I hear you’ve become quite good at that, Potter,” I proceeded, making my way thoughtlessly into Borgin & Burke’s. It was a weak concluding statement; my family had also recently dug a grave. Still, I refused the satisfaction of a second glare. With a million thoughts and regrets swarming in my busy mind, I resumed my unrefined plans to murder two of the most admired students in students. In all honesty, I was yet to even find a starting place.

Chapter Text

The repeated slamming of the compartment door distracted me from rereading my copy of ‘The Oracles of Palombo’. The group of Slytherins inside watched painfully as he struggled to close it yet again. After multiple tries, Zabini finally managed to unjam the door, not before stumbling onto the lap of Goyle. A quick retort from Goyle soon removed Blaise from his close company, “Bloody thing,” Zabini groaned, straightening his sweater. He resumed the window seat opposite me that he had vacated a short half hour earlier, “no wonder, really. How old is this train now?”

I had to roll my eyes at his remark. Shamefully, he didn’t notice. The door had worked just fine when he left; maybe it was his own incompetence that made it far more of a task than it needed to be.

“What did Slughorn want?” Draco interrogated, nudging me with his feet slightly as he adjusted his head across Pansy’s legs. She had been caressing his hair for the entire train journey, parading an embarrassingly smug gawk on her face as she did. I folded the corner of my page and placed the book aside. While I didn’t care to be in this secret association of sorts that Slughorn appeared to be pulling together, the entire proposal was curious enough for me to want to listen. It was entirely beyond me what somebody like Slughorn could ever want with somebody like Zabini.

“He’s trying to collect well-connected people. He didn’t do too well, but…” Of course he hadn’t done well, Blaise was in attendance. No doubt with Harry Potter too. Everybody he knew was either a demoted Ministry suck-up or dead.

“So who else was there?” I asked before anyone else could. Briefly, two excitable girls dashed through the carriage. As my eyes made their way back to Blaise, they caught slight of Pansy fawning lustfully over Draco’s relaxed jaw. She was an irremovable itch.

“McLaggen from Gryffindor-.” Zabini began.

“Obviously. His dick of an uncle… he’s big at the Ministry,” explained Draco, sneering as he did.

“A Belby from Ravenclaw? I hadn’t even heard of him until he showed up.”

“Belby…” Pansy murmured, pausing her caressing of Draco momentarily, “Marcus? He’s a prat!” I had assumed anybody invited by this Slughorn man was a prat, certainly including Blaise himself.

“The Weasley girl was there. And then, it was Longbottom and of course, the Chosen One.” Zabini mocked the very last part, earning a chuckle from us all.

Meanwhile, Draco shot up from his cosied position and looked towards me with brief confusion, “What would Slughorn want from Longbottom?” Blaise could only shrug. I shuffled my feet. Still confused, Draco slumped back down into Pansy’s lap. Another eye roll was too irresistible, but this time, Zabini caught me red handed. We shared a moment of severe attempt to stifle a shared laugh. I struggled greatly, but ultimately succeeded, “Potter’s an obvious candidate. Did you say the Weasley girl was there? If Slughorn’s mixing with blood traitors like that, I’m far less bothered I wasn’t invited.”

By that point, I had resumed my place in my book. I couldn’t care less about this ‘Slug Club’ if I tried, regardless of who qualified and who didn’t. I couldn’t help myself, though, “Draco, what interest would some old-timer like Slughorn have in you, really? You wouldn’t so much as offer him a nod.”

Without having to turn, I felt the scorch of a chilling glare, “I’ll have you know, Avery, that my father used to be a favourite of his. But I suppose you’re right.”

“When he asked about Nott’s father, he didn’t look too pleased to hear about his involvement at the Ministry back in June. He isn’t interested in affiliation with Death Eaters, Draco,” Blaise explained, rather proudly. The secret of our initiation remained between me and Draco, but unknown to Zabini and of course, the rest of them, his retort was too accurate of a reason as for why we weren’t included on any such guest list.

Much to my surprise, Draco let me into his mind. I kept to myself that indeed, Draco was vexed somebody less important than him had been invited to such a notorious gathering. Plaguing jealousy was a trait the pair of us had inherited from our disgraced fathers.

“What’s it worth, anyway? With any luck, this is my last year at Hogwarts. Why would I care if some old mossback liked me or not?” Draco announced. He didn’t half know how to put his foot in it.

Pansy and I made eye contact for the first time that day. She ceased grooming his platinum locks and adopted a ruffled expression. Unlike anyone else, I knew exactly what Draco was getting at; it was no ‘hint’, rather a declaration. What surprised me more than anything was his willingness to share that intention so soon with this bunch, “What do you mean, Draco? You can’t mean… Him?”

I held my breath, nervous for what he would say next, “Mother wants me to finish school, but when Voldemort takes over, which is only a matter of time, do you honestly think he’ll care who has what N.E.W.T.s? Of course not, the devotion he was shown will matter almost infinitely more. Maybe the tasks he would assign wouldn’t require so much as a qualification to perform.”

While everyone else in the compartment gawked at his statement, I remained plastered between the pages. Draco was right, but no one would know it yet. “What would you offer that nobody else could?” asked Goyle. Goyle rarely spoke, let alone interrogated Draco. He never had been the brightest. I was yet to fully understand why, or even how, Draco had managed to put up with him for so long. I found that talking to Goyle, Crabbe too, was much like talking to a brick wall.

In many ways, though, Goyle had a point. My birthday was four days after Draco’s; we had both just scraped sixteen. Compared to some other Death Eaters, the pair of us were virtually useless. We may have excelled academically, but as Draco told them, that meant nothing to the Dark Lord. I doubt a fondness of Quidditch and Tarot cards could be of any use, either.

After Draco exterminated any surviving suspicions, I pointed out that Hogwarts was now in view, and suggested a change into our robes. The compartment was smaller than our usual spot, and so we took extra precaution when hauling our cases down from the silver racks above. Mine was already placed on my seat when I heard a blunt thud accompanied by a painful grunt. Curious, I took the time to observe the others. Strangely, none of them seemed to be in any kind of discomfort.

In a matter of minutes, after we had converted into our Hogwarts robes, the train came to a halt. Aside from Draco, the boys were eager to evacuate. They darted for the doors before anyone else had the chance. “Adeline, just wait a minute. I’d like a word.”

Pansy stood, holding the sliding door open for us, “You go on, we won’t be far behind,” instructed Draco. Parkinson grimaced at me, before scuttling away. I hadn’t the slightest of clues what Draco needed to speak to me so urgently for, but to ensure privacy, I aided the door in shutting completely. The whizz of blinds falling to the window ledge warned me to move my fingers fast, “Draco! My fingers-.”

“Petrificus Totalus!” the snap of the body-binding curse was silent compared to the crash that followed it. I swung around to witness Draco unveiling the invisibility cloak from Potter’s now stiff body. He held it behind him, and I took it, keeping it out of the way.

“How did you know?”

“He was jamming the door when Zabini returned. All the cases shuffled when Blaise fell onto Goyle. Someone was quite comfy up there, hmm?” Draco explained, staring Potter down to the bone, “You didn’t hear anything I care about, Potter, but for good measure-.”

Without hesitation, Draco stamped on Potter’s face, most likely breaking his nose. Blood spurted across the wooden floor, “Curiosity doesn’t get you far, Potter.” Harry could hear and process everything that Draco was saying. This was not how our sixth year was supposed to start.

“We should wipe its memory, Draco,” I suggested, glowering upon Harry’s emotionless face, “Snape won’t like this.”

“No,” asserted Draco, looking at me. I was in disbelief – Draco Malfoy, a boy who I had known for 16 years, had just passed the chance to wipe the memory of Harry Potter, “give him something to talk about with those friends of his. Like I said, he heard nothing I care about.”

Making sure to step on Harry’s fingers, I followed Draco out of the compartment, not before draping the cloak back over his limp body.

+

Draco and I had made it off the train just in time to catch the last carriage. We filled the journey with small talk. Usually, we never struggled for conversation. How we found nothing in particular to talk about was beyond me. It was a comfortable journey nonetheless; we were close enough to not bother so much about meaning in our discussions.

Less fortunately, we had made it in time to witness the annual Sorting Ceremony. After all these years, I’d heard all the valid wit of that scrappy hat. Its novelty ran dry for most people by fourth year. During the ceremony, I couldn’t help but check on my younger sister regularly. She sat in a cluster with the few of third year Slytherin girls. Since joining the Dark Lord’s ranks however many weeks ago, I’d instinctively become more protective of her, especially in the absence of our mother. Carina was my everything. I wanted her only to be safe. Safe was soon escaping Hogwarts.

While unsure of Draco’s thinking, I was still coming to terms with my dedication to Voldemort. I struggled to decide if this is what I wanted. Goyle was wrong, though. We were not entirely useless. As far as my logic went, the recruitment of me and Draco was crucial in the plan to kill Harry Potter. The chance to delete some of the Dark Lord’s greatest challenges had finally arrived. We were small cogs in a titanic operation, and to a certain extent, I was glad for this to be the case.

Dumbledore rose from the Professor’s bench to make his yearly welcome speech. As he repeated the same safety procedures, and cornered off the Forbidden Forest once again, I monitored Draco. The realisation that this academic year would be the hardest had finally hit him. I’d already acknowledged as much.

“Draco,” I hinted, leaning over my crossed arms to grab his attention, “Draco… Draco!” I snapped. His eyes wandered dozily across the wooden bench to meet my gaze, “You’ll snap that wand before long. Put it down, you don’t need to worry just yet.” I whispered harshly. Enough for Draco to have heard me, but lacking the volume so as to leave Pansy wondering why I had scolded her beloved.

Chapter Text

A tidal wave of students flushed into the stone classroom, all as desperate as one another to peer at the new Potions professor. I pushed through the few remaining people outside and sank to the back of the room. Only Adeline, Pansy and Zabini were waiting; clearly Snape’s absence deterred many sixth year Slytherins.

“I didn’t think you were taking Potions this year?” Adeline asked, cocking an eyebrow. If it weren’t for the snooping Gryffindors to my left, I perhaps would have responded with a sly reference of sorts. Instead, I shrugged my shoulders and squeezed between her and Parkinson. In my right hand, I tightly clutched both my wand and my copy of ‘Advanced Potion Making’.

Last night, in a secluded courtyard, I’d received an earful from Adeline. I hadn’t paid too much attention to what was said, mostly because she sounded far too similar to my father. I’d almost predicted this state of anxiety Adeline had inserted herself into. Every small thing became a cause for caution. Adeline was terrified my changes in behaviour would give something away, although I could have argued her obvious, consistent panic to be just as suspicious. Of course, I knew better than to try and argue my point when Adeline was quite as worked up as she was.

Before Parkinson could open her droning mouth, the door at the front of the odourful classroom swung open. A somewhat elderly man with a perfectly curled moustache strode through. Slughorn welcomed Potter and Zabini warmly, seemingly missing the rest of us. We were instructed to collect our equipment in front of us, none of which Potter nor Weasley had obtained. I huffed in frustration. I wanted nothing more than to spend a minimum amount of time in this ghastly room.

“Now then,” Slughorn returned to the front of the room, standing behind the organised display of small potion vials, “I prepared a small selection of potions for you all today, some of which you shall come to master across these following years. This one, for example…”

Granger’s hand punched the air. Many things irritated me, but few came close to her everlasting enthusiasm, “Veritaserum, sir. It’s a colourless potion which forces the consumer to tell the truth.”

“Brilliant!” Slughorn exclaimed happily. He continued swiftly, directing attention to a smaller cauldron near our Slytherin table, “I’m sure many of you will be familiar with this-.”

Hermione’s hand interrupted the lecture once again, “Polyjuice potion, Professor.”

“Right again, Miss?”

“Granger, sir.!

Beside me, I caught a tut from Blaise. He despised her just as much as the rest of us. I also noticed Pansy making a mockery of Hermione’s confidence, causing me to let a brief snigger slip. I swallowed the remainder of my laughter.

Following Slughorn’s appraisal of Granger, he moved onto a third potion. Much to my, and Hermione’s, surprise, Adeline’s hand reached the air before anyone else’s could. Like the rest of us, I could see she was also sick of the Gryffindor know-it-all, “Yes, Miss?”

“Avery, Professor.” We observed as Slughorn flinched at the name. Her father had made several headlines at the beginning of summer – it seemed not many people had chosen to move on. Slughorn seemed the type to mirror most of his opinions from those in the Daily Prophet, “That’s Amortentia, sir. The most powerful love potion in the world.”

“Quite right! I suppose you recognised the glorious mother-of-pearl sheen?”

“Rather the spiral swirls of steam, Sir. Amortentia is rumoured to smell differently to each individual according to what attracts them. For example, I smell cinnamon, fresh bread and…” Adeline paused briefly, glancing at me as we watched in astonishment. It was beyond obvious she was trying to upstage Hermione. It was working, “and hawthorn blossoms.”

“Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! Twenty points to both Slytherin and Gryffindor!” Adeline turned her back to the professor to face Blaise and me. She appeared anything else than satisfied with this morning’s potions achievements, “Amortentia doesn’t create love, of course. Manufacturing it is simply impossible, imitating… perhaps not so much. Instead, it allows a consumer to experience a strong, yet temporary, feeling of infatuation and obsession.”

I smirked at Zabini with suspicion, “Oh yes,” Slughorn began again, looking gravely at our pocket of Slytherins, “you cannot underestimate the intensity of an obsessive lust when you’ve seen as much of life as I have.”

He muttered some nonsense beneath his breath as he floated behind his desk once more, “Well, we have about an hour of time left, which should give us enough time to…”

Just as we all thought we’d finally be moving on, some distant Gryffindor, no doubt, called out, “Sir, you haven’t spoken about that one?”

The sheer excitement on Slughorn’s face suggested that he in fact had not forgotten about the molten gold potion contained in the small cauldron on the edge of his desk; he had chosen to ignore it to build up an anticlimactic momentum, “This, ladies and gentlemen, is an eccentric little potion called Felix Felicis-.”

Adeline raised her hand once more. It was plain as day she was only trying to antagonise Granger. Admittedly, it was quite funny, “It’s liquid luck, sir. It makes you temporarily lucky.”

The old man’s approval of Adeline’s explanation caught my undivided attention. Never before had I doubted the extent of magic, but every now and again it still managed to astonish me. Without Adeline knowing, I’d already given my plans deep thought, and while I had a selection of achievable methods, using this so-called ‘liquid luck’ would surely guarantee my success. The following guilt would be unavoidable, but assumedly more bearable than the consequences of failure.

Slughorn explained that the student who brewed the best Draught of Living Death would receive a small vial of Felix Felicis. Before he could say “go”, I had already rifled to the right page in the textbook. Though the recipe was only a double spread, it soon became obvious that this subject would no longer be a breeze.

I turned to the wide shelving unit behind me, hoping most of the required ingredients would be there. Thankfully, the first one, Valerian root, was. Grabbing the nearest silver knife, I hastily began to dice the roots, not paying great attention to precision or accuracy. Through my eyelashes, I noticed every other student peering into each other’s workstations.

Soon enough, a cobalt steam tinted the room. With everyone rushing around to steal techniques from others, Adeline’s simple walk over to the storage cupboard was a stark contrast. Although I didn’t want to abandon my notes for Parkinson to glance at, I followed Adeline blindly. Perhaps her sharp eyes could find me a few more ingredients.

The steam made it difficult to see. Her wand projected a strong, beacon-like gleam, leading me to her. She had bent over slightly, squinting to see what was at the back of the shelf, “What’re you looking for?”

“Root of asphodel- ah, got it,” she stood up straight, clutching a small ceramic jar in her left hand, “Did you need something?” Adeline spoke with a flat, dull tone, one she rarely used with me. If anything, she sounded exhausted.

“You alright?” I ignored her question. While she didn’t like to be told it, Adeline was dreadfully easy to read. At least, I found her to be. If she wasn’t challenging some unsuspecting Ravenclaw to a duel or glaring at Gryffindors from across the room, her mind was most likely preoccupied. Knowing the damage that her mismanaged emotions could cause, it was always best to check on her.

“Fine, why?”

“You just look-.”

“Pissed? I’m exhausted. I’d forgotten how bad Millicent’s snoring was,” she explained, grinning slyly as she did. Millicent’s snoring had been a breakfast table topic since first year, but I don’t think she knew that, “and the bloody mermaids. Their shrills are horrifying. I don’t know why I chose the bed nearest to the window.”

I chuckled at the indirect comparison. While rare, Adeline could be hilarious at times. I informed her of the ingredient I actually needed, and she soon placed the container of ripe produce in my hand. I followed her back to our table, where, sure enough, no real progress had been made.

The last half hour of the lesson was full of fluent swearing and grunts of frustration, and the apparent reversing of the potion we were attempting to brew, “Time’s up! Stop your stirring, please!” Slughorn called, causing everyone to drop their utensils in annoyance. He paraded around each cauldron, making few comments, but occasionally scraping residue from around the sides.

He reached Potter’s table, where Granger, Weasley and some other student stood sweating. Their ties were flung over their shoulders, and black soot was crusted around their hands and face. As I looked around, several people had the same look. Even Pansy’s hair had curled in the humidity. Adeline had loosened the top buttons of her shirt, and her tie was nowhere to be seen. All our robes were slung over the back of one metal stool.

“A clear winner!” Slughorn cired into the echoey room. “Perfection, Mr Potter! You must have inherited your mother’s talents; she too was quite the Potions prodigy,” he reminisced, handing Potter the small golden vial. Desperately, he snatched it. I overheard Hermione ask him how he managed to brew a potion that no one else had. My eyes made contact with his, and without breaking gaze, he blamed his victory on luck.

Except, I knew his luck would be short-lived.

Chapter Text

I knew I was one of three Slytherins who had chosen Divination for my N.E.W.T.s. In previous years, I’d been mercilessly teased for my interest in the subject, but at least now in my sixth year, I hadn’t been forced to take Ancient Runes as a filler subject like so many others had.

My interests in Divination were inherited from my grandfather. He passed not too long before my father, meaning a good 15 years of my life were spent with him entertaining me with bogus pendulum readings and using stones to tell the future. Every time, my grandmother scolded him for filling me with such useless information. She had a particular distaste for twig formations, but there were more to those than she’d ever care to accept.

I let out a sigh of relief when I learned Trelawney would be teaching us. Much to many’s disappointment, the centaur had selected the younger years to teach. My preference for Trelawney seemed to be estranged, but since she too was not in favour of the horse teaching classes, I saw my dislike for him as justified.

While I had a genuine interest in Divination, I saw taking this subject as an opportunity of sorts. Her prophecy was part of the reason my father was killed, and while it wasn’t my place to do so, having access to her classroom might have proven useful. I could only guess at what the prophecy contained, but learning its contents would redeem my family name indefinitely.

The anxiety that accompanied being a Death Eater was unbearable most days. Every day, I felt as though I was counting down to my own murder. Not for a second did I believe I was safe at Hogwarts. The Dark Lord would find a way to reach me here if he wanted to, Snape would have assured that. By the time I turned 17, I would be labelled a murderer myself, and if lucky enough to scrape Azkaban, I’d be even more devoted to the Dark Lord. I would have helped him get closer to Potter and regain power over magic folk. I was yet to understand if I was really okay with that, and I doubted Draco had made up his mind either.

My long journey to the Divination classroom gave me time to clear my mind before the lesson. It was early evening. The corridors were empty. I took the tranquillity in the courtyard as indication that many had chosen to sit in the Great Hall before the evening feast. Admittedly, it was rather cold for early September. The clear Highland air, however, was something I had missed greatly.

The first thing Trelawney announced to the class was that our lesson would be cut short. I thought it strange of her to do so, and although I could tell she was lying, she claimed something of the stars interfering with her inner balance. Tremors running through her voice told me she’d plucked the excuse from thin air, yet I was no one to question her. If anything, I had to be careful with what I said.

I had no doubt I was a part of the reason why she flinched at the flick of every page. From the few memories I had left of June, I remembered Trelawney being vigorously interrogated by the Death Eaters. They got nowhere.

Everyone in Hogwarts knew who I was now if they somehow didn’t before. My father was on the front page of many papers and magazines. He’d been labelled as a liability by Voldemort, and much worse by Rita Skeeter.

I couldn’t be sure, but it was my guess that my father was one of those who went to question Trelawney before the battle at the Ministry. Every previous lesson I had attended, Trelawney had not yet failed to greet me warmly. Divination was one of the few subjects that I had always genuinely enjoyed, but the shared passion between myself and the professor would soon die down if it hadn’t already.

Due to our shortened lesson, we had been instructed to read over some of the content that would be covered over the next two years. I thought it unusual that no formal work had been set, though again, I wouldn’t be the first to complain. Divination had been my third lesson of the day. I’d learnt that morning that the sixth year provides students with more free periods than before, and I was more than willing to take advantage of them. I’d spent a fair chunk of my day slumped over an armchair in the common room, yet I still felt able to sleep for a week.

When our class was dismissed, I decided to take the long route back to the common room. There was at least an hour and a half before dinner, so the chance to spend less time in Pansy’s company was one worth taking. I took my time patrolling the seventh floor of the castle, despite the fact it wasn’t my desire or duty. As pathetic as it was, sometimes I found pleasure in running into a younger student just to intimidate them.

Before I had such a chance, I noticed a shadow scale the candle-lit wall. Oddly, the shadow seemed familiar. Fortunately, I found myself by one of the secret openings I’d discovered in third year. Abruptly, I pushed myself into the walled crevice. Tucking my hair behind my left ear, I caught only a glimpse of the pacing student who veered around the jutted intersection.

Undoubtedly, it was Draco.

Ever to my surprise, Draco’s ability to sense when someone had followed him was dim. Ducking behind the occasional pillar, I trailed him through the corridor. The September sun split through the stain glass windows, rinsing over his pale skin and splashing back onto mine. For as haunted as Hogwarts was, the corridors weren’t half as cold as one would expect.

We came to, what would appear to most, a dead end. In a matter of seconds, a towering, wooden door had appeared before Draco’s slim figure. He held no hesitation when walking through, and neither did I. I hadn’t used the Room of Requirement much during my time at Hogwarts. When I had, it was never by my own accord; I much preferred the sly passageways between walls.

Once in the room, I tried to preserve my presence. Mounts of clutter carved a designated trail for Draco and provided ideal hiding spots for me. A broken radio blared in the distances of the hall, distracting me. Carelessly, I knocked over a cage, triggering a chain reaction of crashes and tumbles.

“Who’s there?” called Draco. I covered my mouth to muffle panicked, heavy breathing. He glanced past the pile of junk I hid behind and traipsed cautiously into the room. I passed swiftly through separate islands of lost objects, keeping him just in view. I trod carefully over a series of visibly loose floorboards until Draco came to a halt.

He tugged at a large woven blanket, and underneath the swarm of dust that followed, stood an angular, dated cabinet. I watched Draco as he inspected it delicately. It seemed to me as though he had found what he was looking for.

It was strange, though. I could have sworn I saw the same cabinet in Borgin and Burke’s that day.

Chapter Text

Amid the blissful silence, I heard a door creak shut. Nobody ever came up to the astronomy tower. It was only in the past week I’d accustomed myself to it. The daunting echo of footsteps on the thin, metal staircase loomed around the circular platform. It could only have been Adeline. No one else would have continued up the stairs after noticing me here.

I could see the swirling on the emerald green Quidditch robes by my feet. Her enthusiasm for the sport had always surprised me considering how awfully uncooperative she could be at times. I glanced quickly at my wristwatch, “Only 6 hours early, Avery.”

She leaned in a similar position to me against the metal railings of the tower. In more recent days, I’d noticed her wand remained by her side. I couldn’t remember seeing her without it, actually. It was ironic how she had adopted the behaviour she’d so harshly scolded me for. With her wand in hand, she peered out onto the Black Lake.

“Eager, I suppose. Need something to take my mind off things,” I turned to face her, still leaning on the railings. Her fair hair had been roughly gathered at the back of her head, allowing the small moles behind her ear to show. A few years ago, I’d realised that those same moles formed the ‘Big Dipper’ constellation. A small but memorable quirk. Adeline shivered in the sudden breeze, “Anyway, why aren’t you dressed? Are you not going for Seeker again?”

I furrowed my brows, grimaced, and turned back yet again to the view beyond the castle’s grounds. She sighed obviously – she wanted an answer, “Adeline, I’ve got far bigger things on my mind than the fucking Quidditch cup. So do you.” Instantly, I felt an icy jab at the nape of my neck. I was seconds away from receiving a sermon, I could feel it.

“As proud as you are, Draco, I wish you weren’t so much like your father. I get things are different now, and fine, Quidditch probably shouldn’t be on our agenda. But don’t you see? If you withdraw from last year’s blond-haired Pureblood brat persona, people will begin to talk.” I shook my head, turning away to leave the tower. For as long as I’d known her, Adeline had always managed to provoke me in a mother-like way. She’d stop at nothing to prove me wrong but wouldn’t have anything bad said about me in return. I was yet to figure out whether I liked this feature of hers or not, “Potter’s already suspicious. If you quit Quidditch, he’ll get a lot worse.”

Silence came between us. I made it more than clear on the train, with a petrified Potter at my feet, that I couldn’t care less what he thought. She had a point, though, as much as I didn’t want to admit that. Unintentionally, we had become his worst enemies overnight. I hated him anyway, and Adeline wasn’t particularly fond of him either, but something had still shifted.

“Plus, with Bletchley gone, this year’s team will suffer without you. Maybe you don’t care, but the rest of the house does,” I’d also made it clear on the train that my concern for Slytherin house had dwindled down to ashes. There was every possibility I wouldn’t return for my seventh and final year at Hogwarts – all futility in sucking up to professors was gone, “Anyway, your father didn’t bribe you onto the team to see you drop out for nothing.”

My reasons weren’t ‘nothing’, and my father wouldn’t have cared what happened to me either way, but I wasn’t prepared to argue with her. If I knew Adeline, I knew she’d try and guilt trip me. Flicking through each member of Slytherin mentally, I came to a few who would be worth interrogating, “What about that Greengrass girl?”

The disgusted expression on her face told me I would need an alternative suggestion, “which one? Daphne or Astoria?” I shrugged my shoulders. I hadn’t been aware there were two of them; they must’ve been similar enough in appearance for me not to have noticed, “It doesn’t matter, I can’t imagine either are any good.”

“Fine,” I snapped, rapidly growing tired of her presence, “Carina? Last time I checked she still followed… whatever team she follows.”

The silence Adeline delivered was enough for me to turn and look at her, “You must be joking. If Urquhart let my sister onto the team, Potter really would be onto us.”

I rolled my eyes. I would never miss her argumentative spirit, “You are aware there’ll be a long line of people at these trials, right?”

“Yeah, and close to none of them will be any good. I just don’t understand what’s stopping you, Draco. We weren’t commanded to avoid Quidditch, so why are you so determined to?”

There it was. There was the long-awaited guilt trip.

What followed was her famous death glare. That specific glare had convinced me to do far much more than I would have on my own accord. Perhaps it was the fathoms of her eyes dragging me into a strangling hypnosis that caused so many minor troubles during our time at Hogwarts. She was irresistible.

“Okay. Fine,” I huffed, making a conscious effort to avoid eye contact, “but don’t let my failure hold you back,” I smirked, turning our heated tension into a warm farce.

She hit me playfully on my arm, “What makes you think I would anyway?”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her I wasn’t just referring to Quidditch.

+

A decent thirty Slytherins arrived at the trials, which was more than what I’d truly expected. I made sure to stand with Adeline throughout, regretting my decision to tag along. She dragged us over to the far end of the pitch’s width where Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini waited.

“Who let this Urquhart tosser be captain this year? I reckon I hadn’t seen him before 10 minutes ago!” Crabbe complained, skipping the dismal greetings. Cold, smoky breath tumbled from his mouth as he snapped in a hushed tone.

“He won’t last long, they never do,” assured Adeline, stepping in to complete the circle we’d formed, “I guess Snape needed a fast replacement now Montague’s buggered off to America.”

“So why not someone who’s been on the team before?” Avery shrugged at Crabbe’s question, rubbing her forearm with her spare hand for warmth, “Who cares? Let’s just hope he gets this over and done with soon; it’ll be the same people on the team anyway.”

“Speaking of which,” Zabini started, turning his stone-grey gaze over to me, “I’m more surprised to see you here, Draco.”

“You aren’t the only one,” I snarled. Zabini only ever went for light-hearted banter, but over the weeks, he’d become more and more irritating. I was sure to be near my breaking point already. It was only late September.

“I basically had to pry him from the Astronomy Tower,” Adeline joked, dishing me a small plate of side eye. I think it was more than obvious to her that I still didn’t want to be there, but at least I wasn’t the only one.

Zabini grazed the air with his jutted chin, “You must’ve done something to him, Avery. He looks about as miserable as he is pale.”

“Fuck off, Blaise,” I growled as Adeline placed her hand in the middle of my back. My short temper was bound to become a burden to me in the coming year if something as pathetic as Zabini could trigger it so easily.

Adeline guided me into the crowd of people stood before Urquhart. He explained how the trials were going to work, as if they could operate any differently to how they usually did. I had the same task as always: find the Golden Snitch before anyone else. Although Adeline’s task of outstanding the only other person up for Keeper (some unrecognisable fourth year who seemed just about capable of tying his tie) seemed difficult, I had no doubt it would be easy for her.

I dismissed the thought that I would make the team and she wouldn’t. Realistically, Adeline had been the best asset to Slytherin’s Quidditch team since our second year. Although I had more pressing matters on my mind (like trying to earn back my spot as Seeker), I had frequent urges to ensure she was still upright on her broom. Of course I had confidence she was a good flyer – much better than myself truthfully – but Quidditch remained a dangerous game.

Within twenty minutes, I had been the first to catch the snitch and therefore earned my space on the team. Urquhart resumed the one-sided match, still filtering with the abundance of beaters and chasers that had appeared at the trials from nowhere. Without wanting anyone to notice, I continued to guard Adeline with my eyes, my heart skipping a beat when a bludger came hurdling towards her. My nerves had no explanation though. She’d never been injured in Quidditch before, and this would be the least brutal match I’d be watching for a long time.

Chapter Text

The first half of October passed blindly. Somehow, the abundance of scheduled Quidditch practises and overwhelming piles of homework compiled into what felt like one long day, and all the rest in the world could not overcome the drooping intensity of the stress that followed. On no particular Saturday, I’d managed to complete one continuous tumble from the comforts of my shared dorm to the Great Hall in a matter of minutes. My day had been wiped clean by my unwillingness to drown in academia once again – the only thing I had to rush for every morning was the first pick of perfectly grilled toast.

When I came to the Slytherin table, I was greeted by Draco. He sat secluded, away from Zabini, Parkinson and the rest. He waved me over to sit opposite him. I passed a quick smile to Carina, who conveniently sat next to Pansy. Any chance to smirk smugly at Parkinson was not to be missed. I knew Draco’s lack of interest in sitting near her ripped her soul apart – it gave me great delight.

I took my place opposite Draco, already coating my plate in the selection of breakfast delicacies. Looking up amid his silence, I cocked an eyebrow, “Good morning,” I drew out my syllables as though I were talking to a small child. Draco shone a cheeky grin before replying briefly. I searched for a spare butter knife, thinking of what to say next. The more miserable Draco became, the more difficult it was to talk to him, “I’m surprised to see you here. You’ve missed breakfast for the past two weeks or so.”

“Homework,” he replied without batting an eyelid, “up to my neck in it. It hasn’t even been a term yet and I’m ready to launch myself off the astronomy tower,” I smiled at his words, knowing too well that Draco would be too scared to actually do so.

“Me too,” I replied simply with a chuckle. A few snowflakes dropped onto the short expanse between us. Draco aided me in sweeping them off, “it’s a bit strange for it to be snowing in October, don’t you think?” Draco barely nodded. Despite the clatter and chatter from the other three tables in the hall, I was composed enough to focus entirely on Draco.

A cold glare from across the table was all I needed to be scolded, “Stop,” he commanded, placing his goblet back on the table with considerable force. Apologising for my legilimency seemed futile at that point. I thought it strange how quickly he’d become more resistant to it; perhaps Snape had been privately tutoring him, “can you meet me in Hogsmeade today?”

I looked up slowly from my plate and into his glacial eyes, “Since when did you go to Hogsmeade?”

“Just…please?” He asked, swallowing his dominance over the conversation.

I squinted at him past my unbrushed hair. The strength of his stare intimidated me, but his invitation had me confused. More than half of the shops had been boarded up over the summer, “Where?”

“The Three Broomsticks,” His given location gave me even more cause for concern. Why would Draco want to meet me at a pub? The last time I checked, Draco wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of their butterbeer, and I doubt a Malfoy would want to be seen in such an establishment anyway.

Further questioning would result in retaliation, so measly, I agreed. I couldn’t help but be curious, though. The rest of breakfast we spent in an awkward silence. I didn’t want to interrupt Draco’s intent focus on the Gryffindor table. Every now and then, I caught Pansy stealing a glimpse at the two of us. Each time I offered a smile to her, I never received one back.

+

Madam Rosmerta seemed different that day. Lifeless, in a way. Almost everyone associated her with laughter – it was strange to see her so quiet. She hadn’t greeted me like she usually did which I found to be a shame. I quite enjoyed her warm hospitality.

I chose a booth in the corner of the building, one secluded from the main seating area. I had somehow stumbled upon a book from the restricted section of the library. There were so many chapters about pieces of dark magic that I hadn’t heard of before, and many that, even for my age, were perhaps too easy to perform.

Unlike Draco, I never took a detailed interest in the Dark Arts. Being raised by two Death Eaters exposed me to articles of magic that made the most devastating possible. Much to my father’s dismay, my interested had always laid in Quidditch and Tarot cards. The ‘Tales of Beedle the Bard’ taught me from a young age that ‘no magic can raise the dead’, which was an idea that, until recently, didn’t scare me as much as it should have done. When the news of my father’s death spread to other Death Eaters, much criticism of my family took place. Once I’d came to the realisation that Voldemort was more than likely planning the worst for the rest of us Averys, I’d made the effort to pick up more books about darker forms of magic. I wasn’t stupid enough to believe that I could ever win against Voldemort if needed, though.

In the final braces of my patience, I heard the small bell chime. Potter strolled in, followed closely by granger and Weasley. Finding themselves a table amongst the crowd was not difficult for them, nor was ordering a round of butterbeer. From over the top of the clustered book pages, I observed as Ron watched his sister and Dean Thomas snuggle in a booth not too far from mine. Then, his eyes met mine for a brief second or two. The carried intensity of his stare pushed my pupils into two pinholes. He swivelled in his chair, undoubtedly wanting to know why I would be in Hogsmeade.

I wanted to know the same thing.

I glanced back at the clock on the wall. Two hours as too long to wait any longer. Whatever Draco had to say to me, he could say back at Hogwarts. I carried my empty glass to the bar, where Rosmerta stood polishing goblets identical to mine. Without a second thought, I thanked her with a smile. Her face was longer than earlier. Perhaps she hadn’t heard me over the racket made by a group of old potion masters in another far corner.

The heavy pub door slammed behind me, pushing me further into the cold exterior of Hogsmeade. I took time to wander up the meandering pathway; it’d been at least 2 years since I last visited. Each shop used to be swarmed with students and locals, many queued for what I considered to be overpriced tat.

There was only one route back to Hogwarts that I knew of, but it would waste enough time to provide an excuse if Draco were to turn up after I’d left. I pulled my coat tighter around my body. The snow was harsh, particularly for mid-October. As inviting as the white plains were, the sudden downfall was almost alarming.

In the near distance, a piercing scream curled around the open air. It was impossible to miss the red speckle of colour divert the falling snow. The figure rose into the air with exertion, causing a great spectacle in the monochrome scenery. As far as my eyes would allow me to see, a small cluster of people gathered around the body as it dropped from the air, landing on the ground with great force.

It wasn’t until I heard Potter calling for Hagrid that I became genuinely concerned with what I had seen. The panicked murmur from their alley interested me. For some reason, I had a feeling that this wasn’t some weak Gryffindor prank as usual.

Chapter Text

“Are you going to say anything, then?” Blaise broke the silence that had haunted the changing rooms for the better half of an hour. Since we’d all shown up, Urquhart was yet to speak. It took no skill of deduction to notice the rest of the team eyeing him up. Morale was slipping away quickly. With less than ten minutes to game time, we’d been expecting some kind of speech to take place from Urquhart. If it weren’t for Zabini, I wouldn’t have been surprised if the rest of us had just allowed the captain to ignore us.

“What do you want me to say?” exclaimed Urquhart, rather defensively. He thrusted his arms out to his sides, opening himself as a target. It couldn’t have been any more obvious he was new around here.

I caught Draco smirking under his lowered head. The pathetic display we were watching tickled him. Truthfully, the oblivious nature of our captain was funnier than it was concerning.

“Anything. Literally anything, mate. It’s the first match of the season and you’ve said fuck all since we’ve been here!” Blaise responded, stepping closer to the skimpy fourth year. Among us all, it seemed accepted that Urquhart’s lack of words was not the real issue here. Rather, the blatant incompetence that had been selected to lead us nowhere, “How much did your father pay Snape to put you here, then?”

Draco’s smirk grew. He had no room to laugh, really. He, also, was bribed onto the team in his second year. At least he’d attended every Quidditch trial since. None of us had ever seen Urquhart before the start of this year. This was beyond unfair.

Outside our tent, a sharp whistle blew. We were all required out on the pitch. “Saved by the bell, it seems,” I remarked, thumping my shoulder into Urquhart as I strode past.

The proceedings prior to the match continued swiftly with additional waffle served for the first years who had come to watch. In one of the Slytherin stalls, I spotted Carina. That wasn’t difficult, though. Only three Slytherins had hair so blonde it appeared white, and two of us were stood on the pitch. I was beyond excited to see that she had made it. Her presence always gave me a confidence boost on the pitch that I seemed to lack in her absence, As I flew to my spot before the Quidditch hoops, I sent her a brief wave which she returned beamingly.

While I sat quite still, I watched Urquhart fly around aimlessly as though he didn’t know where he needed to be. The Gryffindor team were surely giggling among themselves at our captain, but so were we. There was slight relief in realising that Urquhart was able to fly well enough, but if he knew anything beyond that remained uncertain. On the ground, Draco had also attended to judging Urquhart’s movements.

I felt a slight fizz in my ears, “What is it doing?”

After the incident at the ministry, Bellatrix took the time over the summer to coach Draco in the skills of legilimency and occlumency. After Lucius’ imprisonment, Narcissa became well aware that people would try and manipulate the remaining Malfoys. Occlumency would have been sufficient to cover Narcissa’s concerns, but Bellatrix decided to help Draco further. As much as I didn’t like to agree with her, legilimency had already proved useful to us both in our sixth year at Hogwarts.

“We’re absolutely fucked here. There’s almost no point in playing this out.” I responded, as the Quidditch balls were released.

Cheers from the crowd erupted as the two teams began to chase one another around the arena. I took my focus away from our captain and placed it onto the nearing Gryffindors. It wasn’t lost on any spectator that Slytherin was guaranteed to lose, meaning I’d have to be paying particular attention so that the blame couldn’t be put on me. I would not be taking the fall for Urquhart.

I had managed to bat away several Quaffles over the course of the hour. It appeared to me that Gryffindor were also relying on their seeker to win. Below me, Draco and Harry had engaged in their final chase, but my attention was elsewhere. Opposite me, Ron Weasley had his best performance as keeper yet. He must’ve practiced over the summer. That, or he just got lucky for once.

Weasley was in the perfect position for me to get him. Maybe not kill him, but certainly take him out. I could curse a bludger or hex his broom. A quick Confundus charm would be of great use here. A crowd of this size would shield me from immediate suspicion too, but Potter would soon have something to say, no doubt.

But I couldn’t. After losing myself in thought, I almost forgot where I was. A hurling Quaffle would have easily snapped me back into place, but the rest of the players were now circling low in attempts to complete this match. My inner conscience urged me to do something. Anything at all to hurt Ron. He was right there.

Why wasn’t anything happening?

Very little magic was filtering through. My thoughts were unable to turn themselves into muttered incantations. Regardless of how much I wanted to, I was unable to fully convince myself to curse Ron. He hovered unknowingly, guarding the Gryffindor hoops. The crowd around me screamed and hollered at the commencing match below. With the sheer volume of Harry’s chanting fans, you’d almost be shocked to learn that there were Slytherins in the stalls. Red fireworks had been set off in the grounds beyond the pitch, I could just about see them from my height. It would have been a slightly early celebration if it weren’t for the final whistle being blown as I noticed them.

It was easy to spot a sullen Draco from my height. Zooming down to comfort him would only embarrass him, but I think most people had gathered the lack of coordination and organisation on behalf of our captain, including Draco. Urquhart returned to the ground, throwing his arms around in a frenzy.

There’s no way our loss was a surprise to him. No way on earth.

+

I rushed to Snape’s classroom immediately after receiving the parchment. While waiting for the right staircases, I ran through every possible request he may have for me. Snape didn’t know about the task the Dark Lord had given to me; I was almost certain of it. Even if he did, there’d have been no incentive for him to help me. I didn’t want his help.

Younger students separated their swarms to let me through. Of course, that wasn’t unusual, but I can’t imagine my furrowed expression was too welcoming either. There were several shortcuts I could have taken, but long, timely walks had their benefits.

The loss had already sunk in. No one could have said they were surprised. Almost the entirety of Slytherin house had blamed Urquhart, despite the fact the snitch had slipped between Draco’s fingers at the last minute. Losing to Gryffindor was usually embarrassing anyway, but our measly excuse for a captain made the failure no more digestible.

As I reached the classroom’s entrance, I could hear the echo of Snape’s scolding. At first, I presumed I was slightly early, but it soon became apparent to me that Snape was accompanied by our captain. I was right on time. I moved into the doorframe, certain that Snape intended to show Urquhart up in front of his own team. If only the rest of them could have been there. When I left, most of them were still sulking in the common room over pumpkin pastries.

“Avery, do come in,” beckoned Snape, causing Urquhart to turn in shock. His face was cherry red. Something told me Urquhart had never been on the receiving end of one of Snape’s lectures before – he really hadn’t reacted well, “a rather dismal defeat, wouldn’t you say?”

As Snape finished, a wash of spite drenched me. If, somehow, Urquhart were to remain the team captain, it was worth making his life a living hell. Losing a Quidditch match was far from the end of the world, but the loss was almost entirely his fault. He’d won no favours today, and so I intended to continue what Blaise had started earlier, “Embarrassing, professor. This is the worst loss in at least three years.”

The professor’s unmoving face prompted me to understand that he had already made that same point to Urquhart. It was no lie either, “Like I’ve said, it was my first bloody match as captain! I don’t know what you were expecting, really. Anyway, most people have glossed over the fact that it was Malfoy who failed to catch the fucking Snitch!”

“Silence! First of all you will not use such language in this room.” I shuddered slightly at Snape’s exclamation. After six years, I would have assumed I was used to it. It was more the sheer cheek of Urquhart that had me stunned, “Some competence was the bare minimum of our expectations. Even then you couldn’t perform.”

“What do you mean, basic competence?”

Before Urquhart could really finish his question, I thought best to step in, “What the professor means is you could have tried to coach us. There was no plan, no strategy. You didn’t even speak to us!”

“I did-.”

“Once Zabini called you out. All you did today was stumble from your bed to the pitch and sat on a broom for an hour or two. You’re an embarrassment and you know it.”

Snape returned his focus to the back of Urquhart’s head. His face was still tinted red from my words. I wanted to say a lot worse, but here was not the place. Technically, Snape wouldn’t have been able to allow it, though I couldn’t see him trying to stop me, “Your Quidditch robes will be on my desk by midday tomorrow. Cleaned and dried.” Urquhart’s face dropped as he turned back to Snape. He should’ve never been made captain in the first instance, “If you’d take my advice, I would head straight to your chamber. Your face may not be a welcome one among Slytherins tonight.”

In their final stare, Urquhart stepped back a pace or two before rotating himself to face me. He said nothing. A fourth year would not intimidate me, regardless of the height advantage, “You’ve been asked to leave, Urquhart.”

He inched his face closer to mine, his jaw clenching, “Call me an embarrassment all you want, Avery. At least my father hasn’t disgraced my family beyond redemption.”

I gritted my teeth and let him walk away. He meandered through the tables slowly, giving Snape enough time to face me, “Congratulations on your promotion, Avery.” He announced, with no growing emotion. The pending promotion had been apparent to me when Snape mentioned the absence of competence from the now previous captain, though I reckon it was a shock to Urquhart, who now gawked at me from the doorframe.

“Thank you, professor.” I smiled smugly. Whether this promotion was welcome or not, I was yet to decide. Snape waivered his wand, slamming the door in the scruffy fourth-year’s face. The novelty was already over. My clear display of pride was a brief mask, covering the shock of Urquhart’s final words to me. I refused to cry before Snape. I could only hope his plenary wouldn’t take long; these tears would not stay back for long.

“Forgive the abrupt change of subject, Adeline. It appears to me that you’re yet to try to fulfil your tasks.” An abrupt change of subject was a shallow way to describe his words.

“He told you?” I near whispered. I had assumed that everyone who knew of my task was present at the meeting. Although, it made sense for Snape to have some insight. Who better to track myself and Draco than the Death Eater who had infiltrated Harry Potter’s ‘safe house’?

“You have less time than you think. Don’t let the days slip away from you.” He encouraged, returning behind his desk, “Go now, they’ll be missing you before too long.”

With so many thoughts rushing around my head, I wandered back to the door. Everything felt numb. A new kind of pressure had been introduced into my situation. My role as captain was near enough irrelevant compared to the appointment of Snape as my mentor of sorts. He was watching me on behalf of the Dark Lord. I was not to be trusted.

But I didn’t want his help. Relying on others was not something I was accustomed to and considering the weight the task bore upon my family’s reputation, I could not afford to half-arse this. It was no small condition that the succession of the Avery name rested on my abilities. I knew that he would not hesitate to slaughter my family before me.

Without planning a clear route, I allowed my legs to carry me up any staircase they wished. The corridors had been emptied by the 8pm curfew. Nobody was around to witness the tears dripping down my cheeks. I could go back to the common room, but making a spectacle of myself was far from being on my agenda. Plus, I couldn’t bare to see Pansy coddling Draco like a lap dog like I knew she would try to. Briefly, I considered paying a visit to Myrtle, but she’d soon find a way to make everything about her. I never found her to be the good listener described by other students, but maybe it was just me.

Instead, I wandered to a tight, spiral staircase attached to a barren corridor junction. It was here that I let myself burst into tears. The previous streams of salty tears did not compare to the exalted breakdown I now engaged in. Curling myself into the bottom step, I buried my head in my hands and let go of my breath. The internal pressure that had been building within me since June finally had an outlet. The relief was blissful.

Crying wasn’t a common occurrence for me. When I was little, I was never allowed to cry. Force of habit led me to find a secluded place to sob. It was not my own emotions that scared me; instead, it was having to be comforted by someone else.

The hems of my sleeves soaked up the wet residue on my cheeks. My throat was raw from the whimpering. “Avis,” I whispered, raising my wand to release the small sparrows into the air. The loneliness of my sixth year had also gotten to me, so the slight company of some imagined birds was welcomed.

Pausing my tears, I caught ear of light footsteps. Abruptly, I sealed my tear ducts and raised myself from my crouched position and braced my wand at my side. A slim figure turned the corner, emitting sobs itself. After focusing, I realised I was in the company of Hermione Granger. Our eyes met, both stained with tears and sorrow. What a convenient reminder of my afflictions.

Digging deep, I hit a small mine of compassion, “Aren’t you meant to be celebrating a victory, Granger?”

Every part of me expected her to turn and leave, but she didn’t. Hermione stepped towards my place on the bottom step and lowered herself to my level. Perhaps the disarmed state she caught me in was enough to inform her I was in no spiteful mood tonight, “Some people celebrate better than others.” I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but if I had to guess, she spoke with a jealousy of sorts. Facing her, she responded, “Boy troubles. What about you?”

Strangely, I didn’t hesitate with my answer, “All kinds of trouble, to be honest.” I knew I had to be careful with what I said, particularly around somebody like her, but for one night I would allow an exception. There was something strange about the presence of a tension only I could feel. Hermione, most likely, didn’t like me anymore than I disliked her. But I knew something she didn’t.

“What about the birds?” Hermione asked quietly. They continued to flutter in the cold corridor, occasionally skimming the wings of one another. The muffled tweeting filled the rough quietness in the air. It was better than nothing.

“Oh, they’re just company. It was a bit quiet before you got here…” I replied, taking a quick glance at each bird. I so desperately wanted to ask why she had chosen to stay with me, but I similarly did not want to know. Lowering myself to sympathise with Hermione would not help me in the slightest. Why would I make this any more difficult than it was already proving to be?

She nodded as though she were distracted. I could hear Hermione’s muffled, hesitant exhales, “I’m not sure if this is what you need or want to hear tonight, but I really am sorry for what happened to your father. Of course I know very little of your father’s… occupation, but from what I could make out, it seemed he had a change of heart. It was difficult to watch, the whole scenario hasn’t quite left me yet.”

Some new footsteps cut her off. Coming from the stairs we sat on, we both turned to look. From around the spiral, Harry Potter revealed himself. I wasted no time in standing up and taking a few steps back. Initially, I was distraught enough to allow the company of Granger, but I couldn’t bring myself to remain in the space of Potter. That really would have been too suspicious.

He eyed me up and down, like I had done many a time to him before. I believe I frowned slightly. Previously, I would never have allowed a Gryffindor to drive me out of a space I had reached first, but a stand-off was simply unnecessary. At least one of us girls deserved some real comfort, even I could admit that much. I smiled shortly, choosing to ignore Potter’s arrival, “Thank you, Hermione. I appreciate that, a lot.”

Chapter Text

Adeline was already behind the greenhouses when I’d managed to sneak out from the common room. She picked at her nails, a habit she had always had in moments of deep thought. 

I had asked Adeline to take a walk with me late at night. I’d hardly seen her in about a week. Adeline was used to drowning in her academics, but I think her new role as team captain was too much for her. Her pride was too thick to let her admit it on her own. Maybe I could get through to her. “I was starting to think you stood me up,” smiled Adeline. The smirk told me she knew she was early. I rolled my eyes and continued my stroll past her, down the stone stairs towards the Black Lake. 

The forest was more private, and usually my first choice, but it was far too dark to risk it. The spot I had in mind was far enough from any prying ears, but calculated, nonetheless. I knew that some Slytherins retreated to a particular tower when the common room became a bit crowded; it was because of the volume of people in the room that I was able to leave undetected. There would absolutely be people watching us when we arrived, but it would give them something better to talk about than our family allegiances.

“Can I talk to you about something?” I asked, shuffling down the steps with my hands shoved in both pockets. December breeze fluffed my hair across my forehead, making me glad I wore the thickest vest in the closet. Adeline nodded without saying a word. I think she knew what was coming. “Well, I just haven’t seen you much, and you look a bit paler than normal.”

Adeline hesitated to answer. She was trying to decide whether she had heard me or not. If there was anybody alive who could avoid a question, it was Adeline. I hardly needed an answer – I could read her as well as she could read me.

“Paler than usual, huh?” she tutted. Insulting her slightly would always ease Adeline into opening up. Winter winds whirled around us yet again, conducting shivers through my body, “December is always a busy month at Hogwarts, you know that.”

“I do, but I also know you. You’ve never missed a Divination lesson before, but in the past three weeks, you’ve only been once.”

Adeline paused on the final few steps of the decline and stared at me. I knew something I wasn’t supposed to, and she didn’t like that. “Have you been keeping track?” she questioned. I stopped and turned to face her.

I shook my head. I had far better things to worry about than Adeline’s Divination attendance. Even if I had no concerns of my own, I still wouldn’t give much of a toss, “I overheard Trelawney talking to Snape. And before you start, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

I resumed my walk to the designated spot knowing fully well Adeline would follow suit. The stones beneath her feet crackled and grinded, alerting me of her proximity. The dried birch logs were in near sight. Turning briefly to my left, I could see the silhouettes of students in the tower which had recently become a Slytherin hotspot. With the moonlight beaming upon our platinum manes, it was guaranteed we had already been spotted.

“Trelawney can hardly look at me. She flinches every time I raise my hand and will never approach me to check my readings.” That much I believed. Over the summer, I had listened to several of Bellatrix’s recollections of the almost-torture of the professor. No matter how ‘familiar’ with the workings of Death Eaters I was supposed to be by now, some aspects still managed to take me by surprise, “I don’t have the time, Draco. It’s getting worse every day – the pressure.”

There was nothing Adeline could tell me about the pressure that I didn’t already know. She was right, entirely. Every week that passed, the intensity of our responsibilities increased, so much so that I could no longer bear to read the letters sent by mother. The cabinet was enough evidence I was still alive. “Do you have any… plans?” I asked hesitantly, unsure if it was a conversation either of us wanted to have.

Adeline perched on the log and gazed at me with a familiar look. A look that invited devious collaboration. I hadn’t seen this face in at least a year, “You do, but you need my help.”

She shrugged, “I don’t need it, but there’s something in it for the both of us. All going right, of course. There are still a few details I need to make it happen; if you’re interested, I’ll keep you updated.”

I hardly needed to think about it. If Adeline needed another person for this plan, I’d wager that my role as a distraction would be utilised, “Just tell me where and when.” I join her on the log, leaving little space between us. Frost froze the very perimeters of the Black Lake. Stray snowflakes danced in the slow breeze. It was too cold to not share at least a bit of heat. “How is the captaining going?”

Her exhale told me everything I had suspected, “Some of them seem to think I asked to be Quidditch captain. When you’re not at practice, Crabbe and Goyle give me such a grilling.”

“You’re usually quite good at holding your own?” I question. It wasn’t like Adeline at all to lay down and take hurling abuse from the Slytherin boys. I also found it quite interesting that I seemed to be the deciding factor of their hounding of Adeline; I’d never witnessed said ‘grillings’ before. Learning this brought my next decision back into question.

“Mmm. I really do believe that if I were to retaliate, they’d end up in St. Mungo’s,” she confessed. Historically, Adeline’s stress occasionally resulted in injury to others, whether intended or not. I myself had been bludgeoned with a vase during a breakdown in the common room in 3^rd year. If it wasn’t for my quick reaction with a charm one day, Adeline could have knocked our very own head of house down a spiral staircase to the dungeons. Evidently, putting this kind of pressure on her was dangerous for several reasons.

“I can speak to them-“

“Absolutely not. I’m not having them think I’m running to you for help.” I chose not to mention her plea for my services just a few minutes ago for my own safety, “If you started showing up at practice, maybe things would be different.”

And here came the bludger.

Letting a few seconds pass, I braced myself for the difficult part of tonight’s conversation. “In truth, Adeline, I’m not-“

“Coming back to Quidditch? I know.” Quite simply, I was stunned. Every time you thought you were a step ahead of Adeline, she would already be at the finish line. As far as I could tell, she hadn’t been snooping through my thoughts recently. No one could have prewarned her of my plans or intentions; nobody else, seemingly apart from Adeline, knew, “You brought me here because you feel guilty, and so by inviting me out of the castle you figured it would lessen the blow, right?”

“Did it work?” I asked, allowing for a small pause. The glare I received was chilling, but different from normal. It definitely worked. We both understood our importance to one another, and I swore to myself before the start of term that I would do my best to preserve our relationship. Announcing my Quidditch retirement before the entire common room would have been somewhat humiliating for us both. I need Adeline now more than I ever have, letting her down lightly was the least I could do.

Adeline turned to face me, her cheeks rosy in the winter air, “It worked. Truthfully, I wish I could quit too.”

I pushed my hands out to rest on my thighs. Technically speaking, there wasn’t anything genuinely stopping her. Snape would be far from delighted to see our best Quidditch player drop out, but he was the last person who could have been surprised. But such a decision would tear her up for the rest of the year. Becoming Quidditch captain had been a goal of hers since childhood. It was a shame that these were the circumstances in which she came to such a position.

Finally, my eyes met hers yet again. My heart sunk slightly at the sight of her. Now that I could see Adeline fully under the moonlight, it was impossible to ignore the distress painted over her face. With anybody else, Adeline was a master at poker face. Sometimes even I found her difficult to read. But tonight was different. Her pain and torment were slashed across her face, and I could hardly bear it.

“Why don’t you? If you’re worried about other Slytherins, I can soon deal with them for you.”

“And you think Potter wouldn’t catch on? The two best Slytherin players, and coincidentally, the children of notorious Death Eaters, suddenly drop out of a harmless school competition after one has just become captain? Him and his moles are already watching us at any chance they get, you must be joking if you think I have any choice whatsoever. We might like to think so, but Potter isn’t thick, Draco.”

Adeline’s voice trembled with dilemma. Before any coherent thought could pass through my mind, I reached for her hand. It was cold, shivering almost. My fingers enclosed over hers, passing the little of my remaining body heat through to her. Beside me, I could see her eyes focus on my thighs; we both chose to ignore one another’s eyes. I tightened my grip slightly, thinking of a way to comfort her without making anything awkward, “We can and will get through this, we just have to trust each other. I promise you.”

Chapter Text

After a double session of Potions in the morning, a fuelling midday break was much needed. I sat with Carina in silence, chomping on a pumpkin pasty. They tasted so much better in the Great Hall than they did on the Hogwarts Express. Any other time, I would never choose them.

Carina asked me to sit and help her with some last-minute Astronomy homework. As if I would know any more than her. The few lessons I did attend while taking the subjects were usually spent charting stars instead of completing the actual given work. Either that or fantasising about pushing Pansy over the astronomy tower railings.

I didn’t often choose to sit in the Great Hall during break. It was only on busier days and times when my fellow sixth year Slytherins were elsewhere where I took a seat here. Since discovering that some housemates witnessed mine and Draco’s encounter at the Black Lake a few nights ago, I did my best to avoid them. Pansy hadn’t spoken to me since I returned that night, not even in our bedroom. Not that I was bothered about her, but not even a nipping remark was unusual for her.

While caught in my own thoughts, the other Slytherins at the table went quiet, “Look out, Adeline.” Carina whispered, leaning towards my ear. After focusing on her words, I then noticed that the entire hall had been hushed suddenly. I looked to my left and right.

Striding towards me was none other than Harry Potter. My defences kicked in immediately. The furrow in his brows and the clenched jaw informed me I was to be the target of his outburst. I stood from my seat and prepared for a confrontation.

“Finally done hiding, are you?” Harry started, his voice raised to garner the attention of students in the hall. He still walked with unbearable arrogance after six years. I wish I had stamped on his nose the day of our arrival instead of his fingers. The more damage the better.

“Hiding from what? You? Don’t be so ridiculous, Potter.” I spat. Never had I backed down from a confrontation with Harry before. Why start now?

He started at me with a blank face for a few split seconds. You could almost hear the cogs in his brain churning, “I saw you with Hermione. It’s a bit petty, don’t you think? Kicking someone who’s already down. You’re shit, Avery.”

The inaccurate line of events tells me Hermione had no input into Harry’s interrogation this afternoon. She might be one of the many students parked in Harry’s shadow, but I don’t believe she would lie about our encounter. What little I truly knew about Hermione was enough to suggest that our shared vulnerability would remain private. I said nothing condemning, anyway.

“You might’ve seen us but you clearly heard nothing. It was a neutral encounter, one that you know nothing about. Where is she, anyway? I thought Gryffindors only travelled in their prides?” I responded, shaking my arm to ensure I had my wand. I’d heard sufficient rumours to suggest that Potter was particularly touchy this term. Some of these rumours referenced his dead godfather, leaving me open to similar insults. After all, my father’s death was only minutes before Black’s. A slip on either of our parts could lead to a heated duel. I had to be ready.

“You really think I’d tell you? You think I don’t know what you’re doing, you and Draco? I’ve been wondering all this time, why didn’t you wipe my memory on the train? It was the perfect opportunity.” He retorted, reaching for his back pocket. Likewise, I was also prepared to reveal my wand at a moment’s notice.

I rolled my eyes visibly. If there’s anything a Gryffindor can’t do, it’s listen, “Didn’t you hear Draco that night? If we’d wiped your memory, what ever would you and your collection of lonelies talk about at night?”

“Calling us lonely is a bit hypocritical.” Harry stated, briefly glancing at Carina.

An influx of students flocked into the Great Hall, perhaps drawn by the commotion caused by our confrontation. Draco’s hair filtered through the pocket of students, but I focused on none of it. The blatant nod to our dead father was a step too far. I’d tried my best not to bring it up in the interests of keeping things civil, but it was no surprise that Potter just could not help himself. Carina raised herself from the seat beside mine, rage brewing on her face.

“Confringo!” I cursed, missing Carina by a thestral’s hair. My intentions were so directed towards Harry, I doubt my curse would have hurt much if it had hit her instead. Harry was pushed back a considerable distance, his head knocking against a bench further back.

The commotion fell silent upon my ears. Through the gathering crowd, I caught glimpses of the same white hair coursing through the accumulating students. Here came Draco to stop me no doubt. He was moving much quicker than I’d first thought.

Draco thumped his hands on my shoulders and pushed me back a few paces. Becoming a barrier between me and Harry was a bad idea. I wasn’t afraid to move anybody, including Draco, “Calm it, calm it.” He beckoned, quietly to soothe me. It wasn’t working.

“Move.” I demanded, forcing eye contact. I nudged my shoulders to try and remove him.

He tightened his grip on my shoulders, shaking me slightly, “Look at what you’re doing. Doesn’t this seem a bit suspicious to you?” Draco whispered, dodging the earshot of surrounding students. Not even Carina would have been able to hear him.

“He started on me!” I exclaimed, pointing my wand in Harry’s direction. It was not a lie. Draco was stood there the entire time, even he could not deny this, “He stands there insulting my family as if he has any left!”

“What did you say?” Harry retorted.

“You fucking heard me!” If he was closer, I would have spat on him. If Draco wasn’t blocking my view, I would have blasted Potter through the wall.

“You and I are leaving. Grab your stuff,” Draco growled, holding the arm of my cloak as he released his death grip. I snatched my two books from the table, leaving an old Astronomy textbook of mine, complete with notes and doodles, behind for Carina’s use.

I hated to give in so easily, but I would simultaneously refuse to be scolded by Draco in front of people. It was stupid to publicly curse Potter, sure. Would I be hearing about this for the next few weeks? Almost certainly. But in matters of family honour, I had to protect what little dignity the Averys had left. Storming past Draco and a still-flattened Harry, I bumped shoulders with whoever refused to move, causing a few mumbles and grunts. With a face like thunder, no other students said a word to me. They daren’t.

I chose to return to the common room; transfiguration could wait for another day. Snape would write off my detentions, anyway. As Draco followed me back, he said nothing. Either he was considering the best thing to say or was sulking over the fact I got to Potter first. The fury was cooling down, and instead the heartbreak settled in.

Despite not being overly close with either of my parents, and having a compromising upbringing at best, losing a parent was still an indescribable feeling. In the space of a month, I had both lost my father and joined the Dark Lord’s ranks. With my mother burying her head in the sand, I now represented the Avery name in its entirety. I was being watched in all senses by more people than ever before. I have a lot to live up to. I’m certain I do my father close to no justice whatsoever. Being so openly criticised by Harry Potter was infuriating. No less than what he said, but his blatant hypocrisy. Confringo was the nicest spell I could think for use on him.

Chapter Text

The Room of Requirement opened its doors to a small, broom cupboard. There was just enough standing space for me and Draco inside. The risk of someone overhearing the plan was too great, we needed ultimate privacy. I was yet to inform Draco of tonight’s plans. In all honesty, I didn’t want to give him the time to add his own sub-quests. I needed his full cooperation.

Stumbling over a cracked wooden bucket, I shut the door behind us. We were slightly closer than I had anticipated, although I wasn’t sure I minded, “They couldn’t have given us a couch or something?” I mumbled, straightening my jumper. For the time of year, I really should have worn another layer.

“I’m telling you this castle has a thing against Slytherins,” Draco stated, pulling a grimaced face. He scanned the shelves above us for stock, but all that surrounded us were empty, dusty jars. One was half empty with a murky green substance. My guess would be troll bogeys that someone had forgotten about, “Right, let’s hear this plan then.”

“Tonight is Slughorn’s party, and I need you to keep him there.”

Draco rolled his eyes. He was the only option for a distraction and delay I had, though.

“And when I get caught, I’ll be taking the fall for you I suppose?” He groans, resisting all temptation to roll his eyes again.

“Not at all. I overheard Zabini saying Snape will be at the party too. Anything you do wrong, he’ll vouch for. Guaranteed.”

Leaving no pause, Draco snapped back, “You know we can’t keep using Snape as a safety net, right? If he continues to let us off the hook, that will only play into Potter’s suspicions, not to mention everyone else’s. Why couldn’t you think of a plan that only incriminated you?”

Little did Draco know, I knew something of Snape’s alliances that he didn’t. The professor had no choice but to protect Draco. He made the Unbreakable Vow. Narcissa played him in her corner. It was a smart allegiance, anyone would agree. Furthermore, my plan only incriminated me; Draco wouldn’t be finding out my more detailed plans for as long as I could help it, “Snape has been letting Slytherins off the hook since he started working here and everyone knows that, even Dumbledore. I only asked you to keep a watch of the entrance to the party so if Slughorn leaves, you can keep him away from his classroom.” I snapped back. It was a simple enough favour to ask of Draco. He couldn’t be more difficult in times of need if he tried.

He huffed, folding his arms over his torso, “You know I managed to get things done by myself?”

I smirked, again knowing something he thought was secret, “If you had asked for help, that necklace would have reached Dumbledore instead of cursing Katie Bell.”

Draco’s face was a picture. It took me a while to put two and two together, but it all made sense to me after a while. Why would Katie Bell deliver a suspicious package to Dumbledore on the behalf of any old witch or wizard? She wouldn’t. So she must have been cursed - controlled. Who has been practising their Unforgivables for the impending doom since the summer? Draco.

He hesitated, considering his options. Except he had none. We struck a silent deal, “I’ll stay until 10. It starts at 8, I believe. If you can’t do whatever it is you’re doing in two hours, you deserve to be caught.”

“Cheers, Draco.” I merely muttered these words before he had stormed from the broom cabinet.

+

Purposefully, I rifled through the quiet, hidden passages in the castle to reach the Potions classroom. In my six years at Hogwarts, I had never encountered another person in these passages. The odd spider every now and again. A few times, I had even been confronted by Peeves. He was easy enough to befuddle, you just had to give the attitude back as much as he delivered it. The occasional portrait in the corridor caught me off guard. I didn’t traverse this path often enough to know who was brave enough to tattle to a professor. Luckily for me, most of them were snoring.

Accessing the classroom was easier than I’d anticipated. A simple Alohomora charm separated the student body from, arguably, some of the most dangerous equipment in Hogwarts. To no one’s surprise, the charm was more complicated and rigid than others I had encountered before. Slughorn was a skilled wizard, after all. With concentrated focus, I soon budged the lock.

The stale waft of old castle hit me quite hard. I suppose dungeons were always more prone to more potent scents, “Lumos,” I casted, lighting the impossibly dim room. The catalyst for my entire plan was banking on the promise that Slughorn kept student’s work in the room. Perhaps in the storage room to the side? That’s where I had previously found useful documents when Snape taught in here. Old habits never die.

I twisted the doorknob and entered the storage room. Racks of empty, full, and floating jars lined the walls. Eyeballs, feathers, even Stench of the Dead. You name it, it was in there. There was a good number of valuable ingredients sat in the small room. Sure enough, small vials of Acromentula venom in a wooden box resided in a far corner. I wonder if Professor Sprout knew about the single Mandrake growing in the corner?

I turned my attention to the desk in the centre of the room. Sure enough, it was weighed down with stacks of parchment. Guessing from the professor’s demeanour, I would wager that the piles remained organise by year and class. Finding a sample of Ron Weasley’s handwriting should be a piece of piss.

Placing my wand on top of a different stack, I began to shuffle through a pile with my work on top. If this was a coincidence or a purposeful alphabetical stack, I was yet to learn. As I searched for Weasley, I couldn’t help but notice how much better my handwriting was compared to some other students’. Finnigan’s was simply appalling, and that’s being nice.

Draco’s submission was significantly shorter than other pupils’. He was a clever man, really, this kind of work would have been considered shameful for him any other time. Although, within a few weeks it became obvious to many of us that we no longer worked to Snape’s standards of approvable work, which was a relief in many ways.

Finally, I came to Weasley’s essay. His name was written in lettering much different to his own. Most likely, it was added last minute by Hermione. If I were Slughorn, I would also want to read this paper last. There had to be some kind of deciphering charm out there that could be used for this. Surely…?

Hastily, I carried the parchment back out into the main classroom and took a seat in my usual spot. Taking out the rough draft I had made earlier during study period, I began to imitate Ron’s handwriting on a clean sheet. The focus I held was intense and heavy. This had to be perfect in order to work. Thinking of adding authenticity, I smudged a slight splodge of ink across the middle.

At least 20 minutes had to have passed before I was fully satisfied with the product. With any luck, the spelling mistakes and occasional crossing-out of words would make it all more convincing. I took great care in clearing my space before continuing with the plan.

Things could start to go very wrong from here on out. I found some interesting books on hexes and curses in the restricted section a few weeks ago which had inspired tonight’s plan. In one review of a recovered explorer diary, the author had identified a less-known curse placed on a young muggle during a siege. Besides an immobile, unresponsive body was a fragile, porcelain music box ordained with painted roses and peonies. Under a close examination, a more practised wizard was able to trace an unknown curse leading the victim towards a deep, unmoving sleep. Few people since have been recorded to have imitated it perfectly or as effectively. The chapter delved into the dark workings of such a curse. It was a fair chunk of heavy reading, but a worthwhile one all the same. It was the best idea I had.

I don’t think I have it in me to kill them.

+

Even with knowing the castle’s dungeons as well as I did, navigating the corridors in the pitch black remained impossible. Several times I had wondered into the walls, earning a few grumbles from different portraits for knocking frames. I responded by conjuring bright flames from my wand. That soon silenced them.

My final task was to find a decoy. Specifically, a Gryffindor. I didn’t have enough Polyjuice potion left to get in and out of the Gryffindor common room myself. Even so, the Fat Lady was notoriously hard to fool. The Slug Club party had attracted many members of staff, meaning the rules were generally more relaxed. Younger students tended to take advantage of such opportunities, as I once did too. This task wouldn’t be too difficult.

For better luck, I headed towards the common room. After all, most are smart enough to stay close to a base just in case of staff infiltration. Warm moon glow filtered in through red stained glass, painting my face pale pink. It wasn’t often I got to come through this way. The corridor was longer than I had remembered in all honesty.

The silence enabled me to hear more than usual. Faint murmuring… there were students nearby. I traipsed through the now winding corridor as carefully as I could, being careful not to trip over my own feet. Another occasional habit of mine. The closer I got, the less convinced I was of a group. This was a relief in ways. One person was much easier to manipulate than several.

The end of the corridor opened to a warm room, with lit candles adorning the walls. In the far corner stood a lone Gryffindor. She was talking to herself quietly as she wrote in a journal of sorts. I didn’t recognise her, and she looked slightly younger than Carina. Targeting someone so young wasn’t my initial intention, but desperate times called for even more desperate measures.

“You shouldn’t be out here so late,” I began, startling the girl. She raised herself from the ground swifty, brushing her skirt as she stood. The shocked, yet still blank, expression on her face suggesting she might have known who had just cornered her, “McGonagall might not catch you, but Peeves certainly will.”

Her brows furrowed, “What will a ghost do about anything?” This question made me less confident of her experience with Hogwarts. You hadn’t really been inducted into Hogwarts unless Peeves had cornered you in the first term.

“You’ll find out soon enough if you stay out here. You should go back to your common room,” I said. In a way, I was doing her a service. Peeves was annoying at the best of times, but always the most insufferable towards those who couldn’t yet fully defend themselves, “I’m trying to help you here.”

The girl squinted at me, and huffed, “There’s no peace in there. Ever.  I hate my house.” I’d hate my house too if I had to wear red every day of my life. I could believe it being a rowdy common room though, what with having all the Weasleys and Harry Potter in one place. My idea of a nightmare. The Slytherin common room was less busy. From what I could gather, it was slightly larger than the others, so perhaps we were simply spread out more consistently. The Quidditch afterparties were always excellent, though.

“Well, best get used to it. Go on, leave.” I encouraged, ushering her with my stance. I hesitated with my curse. What would be wiser? To have her face me as I cast or to surprise her completely. The curse itself wasn’t exactly moral, so I soon scrapped any thorough consideration, “Actually, could you do me a favour?”

The girl turned to face me without saying a word, “Imperio.”

The sensation was painful and uncomfortable. My nerves fizzed underneath my skill. I trembled faintly as the adrenaline drained from my fingertips. I had practices the Unforgivables on unsuspecting insects occasionally during the summer but casting them on a Witch was an unfamiliar experience. Unfortunately for me, it would only become more common.

“Take this package and place it on Hermione Granger’s bed. If anyone asks, a Ravenclaw asked you to deliver it on their behalf. You haven’t spoken to me tonight.”

Under the trance of my curse, the student nodded and turned in their space. I watched them disappear around the corner. Following them any further would be far too suspicious, especially with how suspected I already was.  Instead, I rerouted around the staircase and made my way towards the location of Slughorn’s party. If I could find Draco before anyone else did, I could save us both from a reprimanding.

Chapter Text

Christmas passed silently. Festive spirits had surpassed me several times in recent years, and this year was no different. It was strange spending it at Malfoy Manor, and even stranger being without my father. Mother hardly spoke all day, and Carina cried in bed for at least two hours. I read a book by the fire for most of the day, occasionally pausing to watch the snow fall out of a parlour window.

I’d heard no news from the Dark Lord. My attempt to curse Hermione had failed. Deep down, I expected no different. It was an impossible curse to master; it wouldn’t have been locked away in the restricted section if it was usually achievable. There was no way for me to know how far my music box made it in the Gryffindor common room or if the curse had worn off before then. One term into the academic year and any dim hope of success I had was now fully extinguished. I couldn’t give up – that simply wasn’t a choice. As my pending failure became more apparent, my ideas could only become more extreme.

I sat upright in my allocated bed. Malfoy Manor had enough rooms to house my shrinking family and still have space for plenty more. Sleep evaded me all too frequently over this holiday season. Moonbeams filtered in through the half dome window, illuminating the bedspread. The cold air peppered my skin with goosebumps. There was an empty fireplace on the opposite wall. I could have lit it, but the cold was a familiar comfort in ways.

The number of nightmares I’d had in the past two weeks had to be some kind of record. Nightmares weren’t something I encountered all that much, so I couldn’t help but wonder why they had decided to attack me so suddenly. Some of them showed me the moment my father was killed. I wasn’t there – I’m not supposed to know how it all happened. Truthfully, I preferred not knowing.

It was like a spectacle – an event people had anticipated and so gathered to watch. Bellatrix, Greyback, Dolohov; the lot of them stood and watched, without flinching.

If what we had been told by Voldemort was true, my father had a sudden change of heart. Whether it was an epiphany or a plea made by one of my school peers I could only guess. There is no way he thought he would leave the Ministry alive that day. The Dark Lord trusted my father greatly, often more than he trusted Lucius or Severus. So naturally, the nature of his death put me and my remaining family in an awkward place in the ranks of Death Eaters. From a young age, it was presumed I would eventually have to step up to my parents’ mark – my father’s treason only sealed such a fate for me.

The remainder of my nightmares replayed scenes of a post-Dumbledore world. Whether the headmaster realised it or not, he was the only glue holding the stability of our world together. Without Dumbledore, Potter will become far more vulnerable. The Dark Lord proceeds with his plan to eliminate Harry, and then everything fades to black. The skies remain miserably grey. People remain characterless and without hope. Hogwarts becomes a purgatory for the dooming life beyond.

Worst of all, it’s entirely inevitable. Dumbledore will die before September. Nine months was not enough time to prepare for a life under Voldemort’s rule.

A brief chill shooting through my body snaps me back to my senses. I shouldn’t be thinking like this. If I got caught, I’d be as good as dead. I may have a born talent for legilimency, but even I had nothing on the Dark Lord himself. A lifetime of practice could not shield my mind from his probing. Even thinking like this was suicide.

The clock on the wall showed two. Midnight was far behind me. Dawn would come sooner if I slept, but I couldn’t. Nor did I want to. I knew the floorplans of the Malfoy residence very well – after all, I did spend a fair chunk of my own childhood here. There was nothing left for me to explore. Even if there was, the house elves would soon go running to Narcissa, and when she would do nothing, they would then gossip to Bellatrix. I would never be in the mood for one of her lectures.

Draco’s room was only a short corridor and staircase away from mine. Several minutes were spent debating a visit. I thought it unlikely for him to be awake, but in such cases I could always return to my own bed.

The oak floorboards beneath my feet were almost frozen to the point I thought the heat of my feet would leave melted outlines of footprints behind me. The door creaked achingly as I pulled it open. Such noises wouldn’t alert anyone immediately. This manor was generally creaky anyway. Using my wand to light the way, I creeped closer and closer to the staircase.

The particular hallway I had been staying on was adorned with all shades and designs of portrait frames. Ancestors of the Malfoy family inhabit them. An entire corridor of men and women with the same white-blonde hair as myself and Draco was slightly intimidating at a young age, but now, very few of them remained. Where they had gone, I didn’t know. It wasn’t like the Malfoys to relocate; this house itself had been handed down for countless decades.

I made my way up the stairs, stepping carefully around floorboards I knew were suspiciously louder than the others. This kind of sneaking was usually only achievable in one’s own home. The further I travelled through the house, the less convinced I became of being greeted with an awake Draco. It was quieter than normal. Sure, it was two in the morning. But when the silence becomes obvious in Malfoy Manor, that’s how you know things are out of the ordinary.

Standing before the door to Draco’s room, I considered whether knocking would be a good idea. If he was asleep, I didn’t have a good enough reason for waking him up. He’d also sniff out any lie I came up with that suddenly. I pressed my ear against the door. There was a faint rustling of paper pages. He was awake.

I turned the doorknob and gently pushed the door. Of course, it introduced my presence on my behalf. Draco turned around in an instant. He sat at the desk by one of the windows, his space illuminated only by pillar candles. There were books and squares of parchment strewn all across the floor. This was one intense study session for so early in the morning.

“Can’t sleep?” Draco asked, twirling the quill between his fingers. His hair was tousled as though his hand had been resting among the strands for a while. That was the position he frequently resumed when deep in concentration. I shook my head, not yet speaking. I closed the door behind me, taking his question as an invitation to stay, “Me neither. I’m trying to crack out some schoolwork. Snape thought that would be a good idea.”

How far behind was he exactly? In all fairness, from the stellar student he previously was, such a sudden change in academic habits was sure to be flagged by his professors, “What are you studying tonight?”

“Charms. Waste of time, I could do all of this in third year. Flitwick hasn’t got a bloody clue,” Draco near spat, shaking his head. Even I could admit that charms had been much easier so far this year, “What’s up with you, then? It’s not like you at all to be sneaking around at night now, is it?”

I puffed out a small laugh, hardly cracking a smile. Walking closer towards Draco, I leaned against one of his armchairs and folded my arms, “If I sleep, I have nightmares. I’m never sure whether its my own mind or him trying to torture me.” Draco narrowed his eyes, interested by my suggestion of the Dark Lord’s actions. He wanted to know more, “I see him killing Dad. The faces of our lot and people in the Order when the curse hit him…”

Between words, small, upset whimpers attempted to escape. When Father died, I cried alone exclusively. I didn’t want to be so vulnerable with Draco tonight. That wasn’t what I was here for. Really, I wasn’t too sure why I came here. Draco stood from his chair and approached me, “Come here,” he sighed, opening his arms. No hesitation was needed for me to enter his embrace. Into his chest I released built up sobs. My tears would surely stain his jumper. He placed one hand between my shoulder blades and used to other to cradle my head. I wasn’t used to affection, no less from Draco. But somewhere inside me, I felt protected. It was a nice but unfamiliar feeling.

“Why don’t you stay in here tonight? I won’t be sleeping for a while yet. Might not stop the nightmares but at least you won’t be waking up alone.” I looked up to meet Draco’s eyes. His face was filled with concern – an expression that was entirely new to me. He had never looked at me like this. I tried to speak between my sobs, but no full words came out, “Yes, I’m sure. Get in and try to sleep.”

He led me towards his bed and peeled back the sheets. I had to jump to get onto the mattress, but my goodness was it comfy. Of course, it made sense that the Malfoy heir had the softest best galleons could buy. It almost put my own bed at home to shame.

Without saying a word, I shuffled down and snuggled into the bed. Draco remained at the bedside, waiting for me to resume my position for the night. This wasn’t the plan. I didn’t even have a plan. I could only hope that in the morning he doesn’t regret inviting me in – that would be a new kind of guilt that I frankly wasn’t prepared to cope with, “I’ll be over there if you need me, alright?”

I nodded my head, spotting him from the corner of my eye. The sudden exhaustion that crashed into me weighed my head down. I felt ready to bunker down for hibernation. Perhaps he had been practising Flitwick’s charms on his own bed on the off chance I would need an escape.

+

Gasping for whatever air I could, my eyes flicked open. I could see only a teal darkness, spare the swirls of sleepiness dancing over my vision. I panted heavily, trying to calm my racing heart.

Hastily, I pushed myself to sit upright. To my surprise, the sheets that covered me continued to shift after I had come to a halt, “You’re okay, Adeline.”

A familiar hand placed itself in the middle of my back. I must’ve been deep in my sleep to not feel him get into bed. Usually I was quite a light sleeper. Sweat dripped down my back, arms, face, everywhere. Hopefully my cami was thick enough for Draco not to notice. Without turning my head, I switched my eyes briefly over to him. His pale skin still managed to glow in the almost dark. He must have been freezing without a shirt on.

“Aren’t you cold? -” I was cut off. Perhaps my shuddery voice warranted his concern.

 “Quite the opposite,” He stated, moving his hand to my shoulder. I could tell he wouldn’t be willing to change the subject, so I caught my next sentence before it left my tongue. My mind was still fuzzy, and I was yet to fully adjust to being upright, “Another bad dream?”

I nodded, wiping my face with both my hands. When my eyes were shut, my eyelids replayed the green flashes of the most unforgivable of curses. In moments of silence, my ears listened for my father’s screams of horror. I felt sick.

“Come lay down again. Might help with the heartbeat, I can feel it through your back,” That probably wasn’t a good sign. Draco flopped back down onto the mattress. This time, I turned as I looked at him. He spread his arm across my pillow, inviting me into an embrace.

This was a new level of intimacy that I had never reached with anyone before, not least my best friend. The way I felt about Draco had changed in recent weeks. Inviting myself into his arms could stir new emotions that I wasn’t yet sure if I could ever gratify. I could be signing up for my own torture by laying with him like this.

Draco caught me hesitating, “You know you want to. The offer won’t last long.”

He was right, I did want to. Without giving it a second thought, I lowered myself into his arms. Like it was automatic, he curled his arm to pull me closer to him. Even so early in the morning, he smelt incredible. My brain remained frozen as I nestled closer into him. He wasn’t wrong when he said he was warm.

Trying my luck, I wrapped my arm under his and placed my hand on his shoulder. Intertwining my body with his gave me a sensation of security that I’d never felt before. Here with Draco, I felt as though no one could reach us. As my eyes began to lower with tiredness again, Draco placed a small kiss on my forehead. We remained silent, in position.

This was the point of no return.

Chapter Text

In the last few days of the winter break, to my surprise, my mother decided to host a gathering at our own home. Narcissa’s offer to stay with the Malfoys was initiated by our pending protection provided by the Dark Lord following Father’s death. We were yet to receive any such guarantee, but if my mother was anything, it was impatient.

The last thing I wanted was to return home, and I knew for a fact that Carina also did not want to leave Malfoy Manor. All of our things remained there, but hosting a small party at our own home would “only help our reputation” apparently. Why would anyone want to attend a party in these times? Invites had been sent to the people and families closest to the Dark Lord, and more people than I’d expected had responded. Later tonight, I would have to socialise with the people that had been slandering my remaining family for months and pretend to enjoy it.

Returning home was more emotional than I had expected. Everything had been left the way it was. Our house elves, whatever they were called, had buggered off at some point, refusing to serve no one other than father. The table had been set this entire time. Four spots, complete with plates, cutlery and goblets decorated the long oak table, coated in a thin layer of dust. A simple charm fixed everything in an instant. I couldn’t bare to see my own home so abandoned.

Hung on the walls by the main staircase was a portrait of our complete family. I couldn’t have been any older than eight, and so Carina was even tinier. Remarkably, the focal point of the painting was not our platinum hairstyles, but the Avery crest on Father’s jacket. The same jacket he wore when he died. At the level at which people walked past the frame, a small inscription was engraved on a plaque:

“Fionn, the Avery heir, and his beloved wife, Vestara, with their darling daughters, Adeline and Carina.”

Rereading this plaque for the first time in many years, it had only just dawned on me that I was now the Avery heir. My entire bloodline rested in mine and my sister’s hands. Should we both follow traditional marriage proceedings, we very well could be the last Averys. I put my head down and rushed to the top of the stairs. Such thoughts were too existential for midday.

As I stood before my bedroom door, I felt as though I should knock first. It had been over half a year since I last slept here. This room hardly felt my own anymore. I twisted the door handle and was hit suddenly with the faint dust smell. Unbearable, it was. A quick charm soon cleared the air for me. I casted little flames onto all my candles, illuminating my room as I recognised it. A cosy glow was something I never failed to conjure.

In my younger years, I had decorated my walls with posters, ripped book pages and photos. Every here and there, I created small murals with moving photos. As I toured the walls, it was hard not to notice the lack of range in subjects of the photos. I had some of my family, mostly Carina. The rest were of my Slytherin housemates. Draco featured in every single picture, and thankfully, Pansy only appeared in one. My house pride had dwindled drastically after Umbridge was instated at Hogwarts, so my decorations felt nothing but bittersweet.

On a bookcase opposite my bed sat my book collection. Of course, my house had a library of books collected and even written by my ancestors over time, but this was my personal hoard. I crouched to read the spines; I still recognised every single title. Younger me had a severe habit of rereading books over and over. Some of these I could probably still recite sections of. On the top two shelves, I displayed all my trophies, a few medals too. Emerald ribbons wrapped themselves around many of the handles, signalling the allegiance through which they had been awarded to me. ‘Best Teammate’ and ‘Highest Divination Achievement’ were my proudest accomplishments. A few frames displayed Quidditch team portraits. I had been a Keeper my entire Quidditch career, starting in third year. Merlin knows I have the scars and bruises to prove my dedication to the position.

I turned my attention to the large wardrobe tucked in the dark corner of my room. It wasn’t too long until guests would begin to arrive. I needed to decide what to wear. In the heat of the moment, my mother had organised a formal dress code for the occasion, meaning I would have to dig in the deepest corners of my closet to find something appropriate enough. It had been a few years since I had purchased such proper clothes for myself, though I had no doubt things would still fit me. During the grief process, I had lost the slightest bit of weight. The fear of following my father into the afterlife was enough to put me off my food.

Really, the fear had never left.

+

As soon as the Malfoys arrived at our house, my ears began to fizz. Draco left no time trying to locate me, “Where can I find you?”

I allowed myself a small smirk. Deep down, I knew that he didn’t want to be among so many people that he despised, but a part of me just wanted to appreciate him prioritising my location first and foremost, “In my room. I’m not quite ready to see people yet. Are there many people here?”

“Absolutely packed. I’m making my way up.”

Packed?! How many people had Mum invited? What I really needed was a shot of Firewhiskey, but my last bottle had been confiscated by some interfering house elf last year. Maybe I could sneak some downstairs. I returned to my mirror, tucking a loose strand of hair back behind my ear. Carina had helped me to put my hair up – she was much better at things like that than I ever was. The makeup I had chosen for this event made me look more like… me. I felt normal for the first time in months. It was a nice feeling.

A knock at the door interrupted my self-admiration. Draco didn’t even wait for my invitation before entering. He stopped in his tracks as he locked eyes with me, almost as though he were shocked, “You look…” he stuttered, passing the door behind his back to the doorframe, “familiar.”

I furrowed my brows. Why was he so nervous? It wasn’t like he hadn’t been here before, “Well, I’ve only known you for seventeen years, Draco.” His face hardly changed as I spoke. Instead he continued to stare at me like I had three heads, “What? It doesn’t look right, does it?”

I brushed the fabric down and took a few steps back so to see my entire body in the mirror. It still fit as it did two years ago, “No- Yes. Yes, it does. It’s your- umm…” I don’t think I had ever seen Malfoy stumble over his words like this. It was quite the spectacle, “It’s your Yule Ball gown, is it not?”

I smiled toothily. Genuine joy overcame me as he remembered a small detail like that, “It certainly is. Luckily it still fits. I don’t really have much else.” As I continued to stare at myself in the mirror, Draco meandered to stand behind me. My head landed just under his chin. I often felt short when standing near Draco, but in truth I was above average compared to the other girls in Slytherin.

Draco snaked his arms around my waist and clasped his hands together over my tummy. To say I was shocked would be an understatement. Since the other night, I was yet to move on from our intimate encounter. I knew that engaging with Draco in such a way would only lead my mind to places we likely could never go, but I couldn’t stop my mind from indulging. Welcoming his move, I covered his hands with mine, making eye contact with him in the mirror, “You look incredible, Adeline. Really.”

The instant blush in my cheeks was more than obvious, but I didn’t care. Draco knew what he was doing to my heart, but I wanted him to. Before I could respond, the creak of floorboards outside my room pushed me out of Draco’s embrace. He apparated, unaware of who was about to walk in.

The absence of a knock or introduction alerted me of Carina’s presence. We never really bothered with such courtesies, so I could hardly be surprised she didn’t knock tonight. The apparition crack had just about dissolved as she entered. Carina’s face alone told me she knew Draco had been here, but she would be the last person to criticise my escapades, “I’m going down now. You ready?”

I nodded and followed her from out of my room. We made brief conversation as we made out way down the stairs. It went without saying that neither of us were particularly pleased with the events of tonight, “Just remember to be careful when answering people’s questions. Most of them will be here to find out gossip about Dad, but you can’t give into them,” I reminded Carina. It was only true. A vast majority of the people here couldn’t care less about my remaining family; they wanted to know about my father’s death. They wouldn’t be learning anything from me, that was for sure.

“How much are we betting Mum makes a sob speech at some point?” Carina half-joked. Growing up, we always liked to place shallow bets on the potential unfolding of events and gatherings. To honour old times, it was only right I responded seriously.

“Fifty galleons?” Carina’s eyes widened. For Averys, such amounts of money were peanuts really. Her surprise was more likely due to the seriousness of the bet. Before, we tended to gamble with chocolate frog cards and gobstones. We shook on the bet. I’d definitely be handing over that money before midnight.

From the moment my feet placed on the ground floor, the fakest of smiles spread across my face. Draco understated the amount of people who had arrived tonight. There were people here that I hadn’t seen since I was a small child. I knew most of them were here to learn about the circumstances of Father’s death. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them would be reporting back to Voldemort on what we said. Deep down, Mother definitely knew that’s why people had really turned up - the Averys, as a near ancient wizarding family, had nowhere near as much influence and status as we once did. We used to sit at the same level as the Malfoys and Blacks. Although, the Malfoys weren’t exactly favoured like they once were.

For an hour or two, I held consistent conversation with several people. Without fail, every single one prodded about my father, some of them digitising their curiosity with condolences. It had been six months since his death, they didn’t fool me. In a few fleeing moments, I had managed to sneak a few sips of the Firewhiskey I so desperately craved. Any confidence I could recharge was worth the burning throat.

While I was free from conversational captivity, I slipped into a small study adjacent to one of the hosting rooms. Thinking I had been swift enough, I leaned against the desk and held my head in my hands. I was more than capable of talking to this many people to save face, but the feeling of being back home was enough to overwhelm me. I needed a minute.

The brief silence was immediately interrupted. It wasn’t Draco, I would have been able to tell before the door had opened. Upon instinct, one of my hands moved to my wand. The people here were not to be trusted, after all.

Around the side of the door, my mother appeared with a smile on her face. Everything about this evening was orchestrated and fake, including her pleased expression. It was an event organised to fuel her ego at the expense of her own dignity, “This is all going well, wouldn’t you say?”

No, I wouldn’t say. I simply nodded in response. I could argue with Mum until the unicorns come home, but tonight would not be the night, “It’s nice to see we’re still respected, Adeline. I mean, just look at the turnout!”

I sighed. Mum wasn’t a very good actress, “Do you see now why people are really here? Every single person I’ve spoken to has brought up Dad-“

“They’re just offering their condolences, there’s no need to be so critical. We would do the same were it any other family.” Her ability to lie through her teeth was astonishing. Perhaps I inherited that trait from her.

“They’re here because Father was killed for treason, and any information they can get on us for the Dark Lord is a feather in their caps. You’ve put us on display like prize pigs. Nothing has been solved tonight. In fact, you’ve made it a damn sight worse.” I pushed myself away from the desk and passed my mother. I needed to leave before I told her what I really thought.

Really, I shouldn’t have pressed her buttons like that. I should have expected retaliation, “If you hadn’t realised, you are now the face of this family.” Mother began to raise her voice, but I was ready for it. How she could turn this around on me, I don’t think I could ever understand, “Everyone is waiting for you to knock these two kids out of the game. What have you actually achieved? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

My blood was boiling. Any coherent thought track in my mind had been burnt to a crisp, “I’m more ashamed of a mother that would ‘sell’ her teenage daughter to Voldemort to compensate for her husband’s change of loyalty. How long is it until you offer Carina up too? Maybe you should give her some notice ahead of time so she can run away.”

Mother’s face twisted with fury and rage. I held eye contact. I meant every word, “Get out of my sight.”

I stepped backwards, reaching for the doorknob. Not once would I turn my back on my mother. Her temper was much shorter than mine, “Gladly.”

Chapter Text

By the second week of the new term, I had found a new solace in a particular courtyard to the west of the great hall. I had only walked through it a handful of times before myself. The thick layer of moss told me that few others had returned here. The January frost had wilted almost all signs of life from the encasing stone walls and glossed the stones with thin layers of ice. If I hadn’t been so alert when I arrived, I easily would’ve gone over.

On no particular Wednesday morning, I had retreated to this courtyard instead of my lessons. In short, I just felt off. Like something bad or troubling was approaching. Such feeling was one I had become far too accustomed to in recent months, but this time it was different. It was a new inkling, unrelated to any existing problems of mine. Whenever the gruelling pit in my stomach began to ache like such, it was always my tarot cards I reached for.  

My grandfather taught me most of what I knew about divination and instilled several habits of his into my routines. He had been sure to always remind me that the tarot cards read best during the second Wednesday of the month. How true this was, I couldn’t attest to, but I had nothing better to do.

I had read several card spreads for myself over the course of the morning, but I couldn’t make an awful lot of sense of many of them. I tried not to overthink the cards and their meanings; the last thing I wanted to do was convince myself of a reading that simply wasn’t there. In circumstances like these, I turn to consider those around me.

“Snape’s looking for you.”

Right on time.

“How did you know where I was?” I asked. I had shared this hidden space with nobody. It was almost infuriating that Draco had managed to find me, despite how much I enjoyed his company.

“With a lot of luck and the stench of burning leaves,” he retorted, returning my blunt tone. Before sitting down, I’d gathered a small pile of crisped leaves and set them alight for the warmth. They smelt rather… interesting at first, but until Draco mentioned them, I’d forgotten the fire was still burning, “I’m here on my own accord though. I’m not doing Snape’s work for him.”

Simply nodding, I shuffled in my place. Discreetly, I tried to gather my spread cards with one hand. Draco wasn’t a fan of the tarot cards and had always been very open with his distaste for divination. Most people had their individual oppositions to the discipline, hence why I hide away to practice. Slytherins hadn’t been kind to be about my interests in the past, but they were rarely ever kind at all.

“So what do you want?” I asked. It sounded rude, but he had thick enough skin. Perhaps the ‘off’ feeling I was fostering had filtered its way through to my speech. Nothing new there.

“Public domain.” Draco replied shortly. I stared at him coldly, cracking a small smile after a while, “No, just checking to see if you’re alive really. Didn’t see you at breakfast.”

I sighed modestly, nodding again in acknowledgement of his concern. There wasn’t anything in particular on my mind, and attention and sympathy were the last thing I wanted. Being mollycoddled was not an enjoyable feeling for me most of the time. Luckily, I knew I’d be safe from such tactics with Draco.

He stepped closer to me, his hands stuck deep into his pockets. I hope he had gauged the slippiness of the courtyard, “Oh you’re joking…”

Draco had almost certainly spotted my deck. Guaranteed.

Draco sighed, “I’ve told you before, those bloody cards aren’t gonna give you any answers, Adeline.”

I had listened to lectures like these plenty of times before. This time, he had jumped the gun ever so slightly – a habit he was yet to fully grow out of. Normally, I would give him all the reasons he was wrong, but today, he happened to be right. I hadn’t found the answers I was looking for, “Yeah, alright.” I muttered, looking down at my feet. Any energy I might’ve had for a retaliation hadn’t refilled overnight. He stopped in his tracks at my response. Witty remarks were on their way, surely.

My ears began to burn, lighting a small ache in my head. Draco had tried much more often recently to surprise me with legilimens, but my born fluency in the skill would always trump his efforts. I could have let him in, but he almost certainly wouldn’t know what to do with the lack of an actual issue to deal with. Draco did not excel at empathy often, nothing about our proceeding relationship would change that.

He continued to loom above me, his hands unmoving from their place in his pockets, “What’s happened, then?”

“I don’t know,” I replied quietly. It was simply the truth. My day had been perhaps the most plain and uneventful one in quite some time, but I couldn’t shift that dooming gut feeling of mine. Looking up to a confused Draco, I brought the pack of cards into my hands for something to fiddle with, “Nothing’s happened, not to my knowledge anyway. I tried the tarot deck to try and get some answers but its just not making sense.”

“Do they ever?” Draco wasted no time in retorting.

“Yes.” I snapped. We’d had this conversation countless times before, I wasn’t about to have it again.

Neither of us had the strength or willpower to argue with one another. He turned to leave, “Well if you figure things out, I’m sure you’ll find me somewhere.”

As Draco began to traipse his way out of the courtyard, my mind balanced the stupid idea it had conjured. However, my tongue ran much faster than my brain, “Let me read you.”

He chuckled to himself without looking back at me, shaking his head. His silence was telling, but I wouldn’t give up so easily, “Please?”

Putting on a small, vulnerable voice enticed him to stop. Even from behind, his hesitation was obvious. There was further convincing ahead of me, but the fact he had at least stopped was the best start I could’ve hoped for, “Why would I ever let you do that?”

I shrugged, not really having a prepared answer to such questions, “Help me practise?”

His silent stare had now become intimidating. The pressure on me to now give a better answer was much more intense, “If you don’t believe in it, it will be nothing more than a waste of your time. Don’t tell me you actually want to go to transfiguration for once?”

Draco dropped the heaviest breath before sitting beside me. I didn’t know lungs could hold so much air, “Make it quick.”

Staring at him, most likely with a dumb smile spread across my face, I reopened my deck and split it into shuffling piles. As stupid as it sounded, it felt like an honour to be the first person to read Draco’s tarot. Almost certainly, I was the first, “I’ll do a simple three card spread – past, present, future. I’ll explain what the card signifies, and how it might apply to you. Sound okay?”

Draco lifted his grey eyes to meet mine. My heart still managed to skip a beat or two, “I’ve committed now.”

I allowed for Draco to pick his three cards, reshuffling the deck after each selection. His face was a masterpiece of scepticism and disbelief, but already I had begun to feel better. Sensing the discomfort, I thought of a calming comment, “Whatever these three cards tell me, they’re not going to hurt you. If anything, they just help you to see things a bit clearer.”

“Just get on it with it.” Pleasant as ever.

Without further hesitation, I flipped the first card. Upright Hierophant, “In the place of the past, there is the upright hierophant. This shows the influence of tradition and values in your past, and how these direct your actions today.”

Even though I too come from a pureblood family, the Malfoys placed tradition and values above all else. Spending time at their estate when I was younger often felt like a change of culture, despite our families being very similar. I grew up believing all the same things as Draco. Some things, I still had a great deal of faith in. But nothing that was drilled into me at that age continued to stick like it had for Draco. He was a pureblood snob through and through.

“It might be difficult, but continuing to conform to the values you know so well may benefit you. As you progress through life, internal conflicts will lead you to reconsider what you have come to see as fact.” I continued fluently, making perfect sense of his first card. Whether he believed it to be coincidence or not, it was the perfect ‘past’ card for him.

Moving on swiftly, I wanted to close the opportune gap for Draco to doubt what I had said. Really, I don’t think he could’ve contested it.

I turned over the second card. Reversed High Priestess. A very fitting card, I would have said, “In the present, you have the reversed high priestess. She signifies the accuracy of one’s internal instincts, but in the reversed position, it suggests that these instincts are being ignored.” Suddenly, Draco lifted his head to look at me. Oddly, he seemed shocked at what I had said. Perhaps I had struck a chord.

He snapped out of his shocked trance after a few moments, “Right… what’s next?”

I had definitely struck a chord.

“This last card is your future,” I began, flipping the cardboard over. I grimaced as I saw the image. Upright Death. Before I could reassure him of the meaning, the realisation had invaded his face. He frowned, clearly agitated by the apparent prediction of approaching death, “fuck.”

“So I’ll be dead within the week? Great.” He huffed, raising himself to exit the courtyard.

“No, no, Draco stop!” I called, following him.

Avoided my pleas, he continued to stride from the courtyard, “Would you just wait a minute?! It doesn’t mean what you think it means!”

He paused, still facing away from me. I’d have to a good job of explaining myself now.

“Upright death shows an approaching change that cannot be resisted or stopped, not actual death. It’s not a prediction, it’s a… an evaluation.” Even from behind, I could picture the face he was pulling. His eyebrows were crossed, his nosed scrunched as he questioned my words, “You’re not going to die, Draco. And anyway, you know deep down this is all a load of crap anyway.

I didn’t believe that, but I would say anything to calm him down. Maybe reading him wasn’t a good idea after all.

“Things are changing, we both know that. All this card tells us is that the upcoming changes cannot be stopped. We’ve learnt nothing new, really.”

The silence that followed suggested my words had gotten through to him. I never would have thought Draco would have reacted quite like this. If I had to guess, I’d wager things had been getting to him even more since returning. After all, our time was soon running out.

I pulled on Draco’s sleeve and guided him to a stone bench just outside the courtyard. We hadn’t travelled far. I needed to tie up a few loose ends before I could let him go and overthink for the rest of the day.

“You listen to me. I know better than anyone else in this place how you feel right now. Time is running out and people are starting to suspect things are not quite right. All we have is each other. We have to stick together through this, Draco.”

Lifting his head from between his knees, Draco looked at me properly for the first time today. My eyes held his. A flood of sentiment and emotion came forth to my eyes, but crying wasn’t ideal now.

“I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” Draco assured me, but I already knew. Sincerity wasn’t something you could often receive from Draco, but there was something compelling in his voice. Intimate conversations were not something we had engaged in many times before, but in the past few months, I had become quite fond of the quieter moments found between us.

The intensity from just a few minutes before had dwindled down to smoke. All the rush and adrenaline slowed as I held focus on Draco’s eyes. Nearly every aspect of my life had changed in the past year, but I had never expected to develop a new kind of relationship with Draco. For as long as I could remember, he had been my best and closest friend. Advancing with him like this could be dangerous in many aspects, but it was a risk I believe both of us were willing to take. Like we were magnetised, we leaned towards each other, still in silence.

Gently, Draco kissed my lips, placing a hand just above my knee. In awe of the moment, I disconnected from any rational thought and leaned further into the kiss. He tasted like the January frost, warming as each second passed.

Pulling away from him, I felt my heart tighten. Those thoughts I had eradicated rushed back in one foul swoop. We had finally made the leap. We were past the point of redemption. From today until our last days, Draco and I could never go back to being just friends.

Chapter Text

A few moments from midnight, and I still could not believe the earlier events of today. The kiss I finally shared with Adeline hadn’t abandoned my memory once since. Finally, the move I had been so desperate to make had been made. Of course, it didn’t come without its conditions.

For at least an hour, I had sat alone in the common room with an open book on my lap. The fire continued to burn. Having an underwater common room had many positives, but the year-round chills were not included. Everyone was in bed slightly earlier than normal; the new term was certainly taking its toll on people.

I, however, couldn’t sleep. A million issues, problems, trials and concerns swamped my mind. For at least 6 months now, there hadn’t been a moment of stillness. Not even with Adeline. After all, she’s my partner in this mess. Spending time on my own in the quietest parts of the castle had become a sanctuary. The Room of Requirement was the exception. The growling pit of horror that grew in my stomach each time I approached that bare wall worsened by the week. At this point, I wasn’t sure if that horror was ignited by the cabinet itself or the secret I had been keeping.

Throughout the remainder of the day, I had replayed my swift oath to Adeline in my mind several times. Promising that I wasn’t going anywhere and that I would stick by her side… I meant it. Of course I meant it. How well I could keep such promises was less certain. Ultimately, we faced the same circumstance. The same fate, too. But from all that I could tell, my plan promised more success than any of hers. I know her heart isn’t in them. If she wanted to kill them, she would. She would’ve done it much sooner than now, too.

My dimming spiral of thoughts was diminished by footsteps. The stone floors of the dungeons left little for the sneakier among us to work with. I didn’t turn my head. Anyone would recognise me from behind. If they wanted to turn around, they would.

But they didn’t.

Hoping I would see Adeline one last time for today, I scanned the staircases. I almost felt my heart sink when I was greeted by Pansy instead.

“It’s almost midnight, Dray,” The nickname alone was enough to turn me back to my book. Suddenly, I was able to focus on the words before me with much more ease. Multiple times over the past six years, I had told her not to call me that. She’d listen one day.

Maybe.

I flicked my eyes to the clock above a side table nearby, “Two minutes past.” If I knew Pansy, I knew she wouldn’t take any notice of the vocal cues I gave her, But it was still worth the shot.

Without looking, I knew she had rolled her eyes at me. Whatever she thought we were, we were not. I put up with her because she often did not leave my side, not because I wanted to. From beneath my draped hair, I watched her approach me. The sofa spot beside me dipped as she sat a bit too close. I tried to shuffle up, but already I was too close to the armrest.

She folded her hands between her thighs as though she was beginning an interrogation. I rather she wouldn’t, “I was lucky to catch you really. I hardly see you anymore. You don’t show up to class or dinner. You don’t speak to anyone…. Is there something going on that you’re not telling me about, Draco?”

I wouldn’t tell her if she was on fire.

I kept my silence, aware that I had prepared some hurtful comebacks already. If I had the energy to argue with her, I would. She could go for days. Fighting with Pansy would only mean her sticking around longer than I wanted her to. She had already surpassed such welcome.

Pansy sighed heavily, obviously upset that she hadn’t managed to get me to open up. Even if I could tell her, she wouldn’t be anywhere near a priority for me.

“Last term, I thought it was just the stress. It got to me too, a little bit. I hoped that the Christmas break would do you some good, but you’re even worse now.” She paused momentarily. I knew something else was coming. She was picking up a stick to prod me with, and I had mere second to prepare, “Mind you, if she was there, I suppose I can understand.”

The void of energy within me converted to frustration in an instant. Jealousy had plagued Pansy for as long as I’d known her, but this was the first time she had been so open of her distaste towards Adeline with me. After today’s events, it seemed traitorous to sit back and take it. I knew too well that Adeline would hold her own, especially against Pansy, but in her absence, I reckoned I could do just as good a job.

“Fuck off back upstairs, Pansy,” I began, still refusing to look at her. I had half a mind to storm off. Yet, I got here first, and I was indeed petty enough to stand my ground, “I’d spend a lifetime with Adeline before I spent an hour with you.”

She scoffed as though I had just proved her point, “See what I mean? She’s a bad influence on you. I haven’t done anything to wrong you, and you treat me like this. She is unbearable, and you’re becoming just like her.”

“Maybe the reason no one speaks to you is because you are the unbearable one. Even Bulstrode bitches about you when you’re not around,” Raising my voice, I finally looked up at her. Her face was a picture, “did you know that?”

In the disturbed silence, I’m sure I heard a door creak. More than likely, I had woken up one of the younger Slytherins. The older ones would know it was me sat here without leaving their room.

“There’s no need to talk to me like that, Dray-“

“Call me that one more time and see what fucking happens.”

“Shhh…” Parkinson hushed before placing her hand on my chest.

Frustration boiled to fury. No doubt my heart was matching the rapid vexation of my mind. There was no way someone could be this immune to signals. No way on earth, “For the last time, get the fuck away from me.” I stared directly in her eyes. I felt nothing but hot anger. Never before had I been so sure of my disdain for another person before.

“You just don’t realise how well you and I could-“

Whatever she was about to say, my attention was entirely divided by the overriding announcement coming from the same staircase, “Would you two stop bloody arguing? It’s gone midnight”.

After realising instantly it was Adeline, I began to hope that would cause Pansy to move. Instead, she pressed on my chest harder, keeping me in my place.

Dread filled me from my toes to my ears. Adeline must’ve heard my pleas. Surely.

Soon enough, she revealed herself at the bottom of the stairs, wrapped in a green Quidditch sweater and plaid trousers. Her slightly tangled hair hung down to her elbows. Imagining the scene she had just walked in on; I knew I had mere seconds to admire her.

“What are you doing?” Adeline asked, seemingly aimed at neither of us in particular. The tremor in her voice was unmissable. Maybe she hadn’t heard my pleas to be released. Fuck.

“We were having some alone time, until you came along.”

“We were doing no such thing, and you know it.” I corrected Pansy, once again hoping Adeline would see reason.

Never had I known Adeline to get along with Pansy. I’d spent countless hours listening to her purging her complains and irritations. ‘Scheming’ was a frequent descriptor used by Adeline, and I had known all along she was right.

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” Adeline whispered, clearly holding back tears.

Adeline turned to run up the stairs she had just descended. Like I should have done earlier, I shoved Pansy by the shoulders across the sofa. I hope it hurt, even if it was just a tiny bit.

I stormed back to my own dormitory, refusing to give Parkinson the satisfaction of a second look. If I were Pansy, I wouldn’t want to return to my bed. The four Slytherin girls in sixth year all shared the same room, and for once, I had a feeling it would not be Millicent Bulstrode who Adeline wanted to smother the most.

Chapter Text

According to Carina, I was notorious in both my family and Hogwarts for my ability to hold a grudge. Some I had been holding for years, and others I had simply forgotten about. However, it had been just under a month since I had properly last spoken to Draco. Easily, it had been one of the worst months I had lived through.

I say ‘properly spoken’ since it was impossible to avoid him entirely. In some classes of mine, he was the only other Slytherin, and everybody would assume something was wrong if I began to mix with other houses. Every day since I had interrupted his… session with Pansy, he had approached me with conversation. A couple times, he had even cornered me in less visible nooks across the castle. From what Carina had told me, Draco confided in her on several occasions. As much as I wanted a detailed recollection of their conversations, all she had really shared was his desperation for my forgiveness.

In the four weeks I had used to recollect my thoughts, I came to the quick conclusion that there wasn’t anything happening between Draco and Pansy. Actually, upon consideration I realised how stupid that assumption was in the first place. As my closest confidant, Draco had listened to me complain about her and her… ways many a time. Every now and then, he would contribute to my rants with agreement. He would never be so stupid to run off with her. I knew that deep down.

What really shook me was his lack of agency. Why wouldn’t he push her away? Why wouldn’t he get up and leave? How could he let her get so close to him? Not only did he suggest to despise being in her company, but it was also only that morning we had kissed for the first time. The feelings that had grown so fondly in the previous months had been reciprocated, and then trampled in the same day. Shattered hardly came close to how I felt for the proceeding days.

The time I had spent alone gave me space to think about my upcoming future. Somehow, the skies were even darker than they had been in September. The entire wizarding community had caught on to the changing times by February, and rumours had been brought back from family homes after Christmas. More so than usual, other students openly avoided me. Draco too. From swapping staircases to abandoning benches in the Great Hall, not even Slytherins wanted to know us. Trelawney was yet to say more than five words to me at a time, and Professor Sprout didn’t even bother answering my questions in Herbology anymore. Dumbledore was here, there and everywhere for no apparent reason. What no one really knew was how imminent change was. The Unbreakable Vow witnessed by Bellatrix would ensure the death of Dumbledore, and with that would come guaranteed, unwelcomed revolution. Dreading it was to put it lightly.

To my misfortune, or perhaps my benefit, I did not have the same kind of support as Draco did. He didn’t know of my knowledge of the vow. All it caused me was jealousy. If I were to fail, which admittedly had become more likely with time, my fate was near enough sealed. If I am no use alive, I am perhaps greater use dead. There was a simple enough way to kill Ron and Hermione, I knew it as well as anyone, but simple does not always equal easy. To execute an Unforgivable Curse, there must be sincere intent. Intent I could guarantee, but sincerity I could not.

Before I could execute another one of my plans, I first had to get through the second Quidditch match of the year. While I had much on my plate as a Death Eater, I could not neglect my other duties. Organising and hosting Quidditch practices became a burdening bane of my life, less bearable without Draco by my side. It was only by poking fun at their families that I ever got through to Crabbe and Goyle, and still their comebacks were greater. I had one more match after this to hold on for, and then I could finally be done. Quidditch wouldn’t go ahead next year, anyway.

With the rest of my team, I prepared myself for the match ahead in the changing rooms. Nervous couldn’t begin to describe the way I felt. I had already delivered a speech of sorts to the others. I had even practised it last night by myself in the bathrooms in the hopes it would make it more convincing. Thinking it had gone well, I sat by myself in a far corner covered by a few screens. As the only girl on the team, it hardly looked suspicious.

“Oi, you can’t be in here!” Crabbe called from the other side of the room.

“I’m not here to see that, don’t worry,” Carina replied. That was my sister all right. Her heavy footsteps carried through the maze of screens to my corner. She slumped down beside me as I retied my loose laces, “can’t imagine there’s much to see, anyway.”

I smirked at her, silently agreeing. Looking briefly to my right, I noticed my shoes on her feet, “Are those mine?” I questioned, resuming my upright sitting position.

“You’re not using them,” she shrugged. I didn’t mind really; the question was more to ensure she was on her toes. “Anyway, I came to see how you’re doing.”

Never before had Carina been to see me before a match. Even when I had been made captain, she didn’t care to ask much more about my promotion. Despite how close we were, we had never felt the need to be in each other’s pockets. To some, Carina’s brief welfare check would hardly be considered invasive, but for us, it was unheard of. She was here for a reason.

“No you didn’t. What do you want?”

Carina’s expression went blank. Sometimes it was borderline frustrating how easy she was to catch out. Maybe she wasn’t on her toes after all.

“Is it so wrong to come and visit my sister before her first match as Quidditch captain?” She huffed.

Leaving no gap, I responded instantly, cutting her off, “It is when it’s you. Now is not the time to wind me up, Rina.”

Unusually, I caught her hesitating. Something or someone had brought her here. She felt just as uncomfortable in this new instance of sisterly bonding as I did, it was plain as day. If I continued as normal, maybe I could slip her up again. Sighing falsely, I continued, “But I’m fine. Nervous, but really, it’s just another match.”

“Mmm, maybe. But things have changed a lot since the last one.”

Staying silent and letting her dig the hole deeper would be my plan following her statement.

“I mean, yeah, you’re the captain now. But Slytherin also lost the only decent Seeker this school has. Ravenclaw will trample over the lot of you”.

It was well-known amongst Slytherins that Carina Avery knew close to nothing of Quidditch. Even a muggle would be able to tell that Harry Potter was, by a long shot, the best Seeker in the school. The comment on Ravenclaw was a poor tactical statement. Her house pride was double the strength mine had ever been. There was no way on this planet she would have said such a thing if she didn’t have an ulterior motive.

“So is Draco stood outside the changing rooms or is he in the stalls? What has he offered you to come in here?” I raised my voice, undoubtedly grasping the attention of the boys on the other side of the fabric screens, “Did you really think now was the time for a reconciliation? You’re not that stupid, Rina. We’ll sort something out later on, just get out.”

Without missing a beat, she matched my volume. Our father’s rage had not skipped either of our gene pools, “I’m just looking out for you-“

“Get. OUT!” I screamed.

Carina stormed off, huffing as she did. To shorten her route, she tore down the fabric screens, revealing me to the rest of my team. None of them dared to look me back in the eye. If another word were to be said, I was sure to explode.

Outside the changing tent, the whistle blew. Right on time. 

Chapter Text

The entirety of Slytherin house had swarmed into the common room to celebrate the first Quidditch victory of the year. With my face like thunder, very few of my housemates shared their congratulations with me. My mind was everywhere other than the pitch. The burning, hereditary Avery rage ran through my blood throughout the entire match. I had almost split my bat several times with the sheer force I pummelled the Quidditch balls away with. Ten o’clock was approaching fast, and my veins still tingled with singeing fury.

At least two hours ago, I chose to barricade myself in my dormitory. Somewhere deep inside, I was revelling in the fact we had won our match. The feeling was very deep inside, but definitely there. With any luck, I’d be asleep before the other girls could interrogate me on my absence. Since becoming the Slytherin keeper, I’d missed close to no celebration parties.

To pass time, I had spread my schoolbooks out on the floor to fill in any gaps. Flitwick had begun to crack down on homework, and impressing Slughorn was an embarrassingly fun target I had set myself. Making an effort in lessons again was beginning to take my mind of things. Not a great deal, of course, but every now and then I had an hour or so of deluded bliss. The library had once more become very familiar to me, but it felt strange to blend in. At first, I heard many whispers of confusion and slight terror at my return to the library. The students of Hogwarts never failed to notice changing social circles.

Apparently, my drifting relationship with Draco was the talk of the Great Hall for a good week. Removing myself from this party would dig it all back up without a doubt. I would have to work diligently to stamp out any more rumours. I’d heard all kinds of bollocks through the grapevine in the past month. Any venom my bite-backs spat was rapidly neutralising. Hopefully, the events of this morning added some venom to the tank.

The clock on the wall completed another circuit. Music from below the dormitories seemed to get louder – the party was nowhere near over. I shuffled all my books into my trunk, refusing to gaze any longer at parchment and ink for the night. It was getting late, and the now simmering rage rendered my eyes heavy with exhaustion.

Plunking myself before the only vanity in the room, I unravelled my crown braid from the back. I always thought I looked strange with my hair up – I couldn’t quite believe it had stayed up all day. Light from the full February moon filtered in through the submerged windows of my shared bedroom, painting me even more pale than usual. The rose of my windswept cheeks was long gone now.

Wiping some herby tonic over my face, it did not evade me how ill I looked. Any other day, I covered up the heavy bags under my eyes before I had time to ponder them. Hollowed cheeks filtered down to my chapped, pink lips, chiselling my face far too much for my liking. I looked… old. I looked dead.

A knock at the door broke my sombre trance. It wasn’t any of my roommates – it’s their room at much as its mine. That, and Pansy is capable of no decency, let alone to knock before entering.

I begged silently for my guest to be anyone but Carina. I was far too tired to play happy families this time of night.

The person knocked again, no change in their pace or volume.

Maybe they had dared a first year to come up here. That sounded like a very Slytherin party prank.

“Who and what?” I grumbled. Bearing in mind they were the first words I had uttered since screaming at my little sister this morning, I could have sounded a lot more irritated than I did.

 There was a sigh precursing the response, “Draco and to talk.”

Beneath my ribs, my heart skipped several beats. A million thoughts crammed into my brain at once, and yet no words were forming. Raising myself from the vanity, I paced closer to the door considering my options.

Talking through my feelings had never been of much interest to me. Somewhere within, however, this time it felt necessary. My disconnection from Draco was doing me no favours. He had a lot of explaining to do, but nothing could negate the fact I needed him.

“Adeline? I have a lot to say, so if now isn’t the time then-“

I swung the door open, my eyes meeting his chest before wandering up to his eyes. He also looked ill. Like death.

“If you’re looking for her, she isn’t in here.” What am I saying?

His face remained unchanged, “I said your name, did I not?” Draco stood with a slight slump, both hands shoved far into his pockets. The tightness of his shirt allowed me to see the silhouette of his wand up his sleeve. Since the start of this year, he went nowhere without it. Not even to the girls’ dormitories, “Can I come in?”

I huffed, forgetting I needed to continue breathing. I pulled the door open, leaving Draco ample room to enter. He swaggered in and leaned himself against one of the bedposts on Milicent’s bed, “You don’t often miss winning parties. Why aren’t you downstairs?”

I knew he would notice.

Returning to my place at the vanity, I considered every single way I could approach this. Ultimately, the main goal was not to push him away anymore, but how to balance that with not pushing myself over was the challenge.

“I thought Carina would have told you. It was your idea anyway, wasn’t it?” The sarcasm protruded in my voice. There was not a doubt in my mind Draco was the reason Carina paid me a visit this morning. I knew my sister better than I knew myself sometimes.

Draco paused, “What are you talking about?”

Chuckling to myself, I rolled my eyes, “If you’re about to treat me like I’m thick, you can let yourself out.”

Resuming my wind down routine, I proceeded to brush the knots out of my hair. Late winter winds always tangled my hair enough to earn a few curses from my lips in the evening.

His position was unmoving. That’s the Malfoy arrogance kicking in. It was good to know he wasn’t a complete shell of his original self, “I really don’t have a clue what you’re on about.”

I swung my head around, my face like thunder once again, “Didn’t the boys tell you? She came to me this morning in the changing rooms to interrogate me, no doubt sent in by you.”

“You seriously think I would do that?” He retorted. He was only a couple more accusations from losing his temper. Maybe an argument is what we needed to extinguish this unbearable tension.

“There’s a lot of things I thought you’d never do but you did anyways.”

My intrusion on his encounter with Pansy was old news by now, but it’s the reason we were in this sticky situation in the first place. I needed to get it out. Not even Carina had heard everything I wanted to say. She doesn’t know about our kiss. I doubt Draco even remembers, it was so long ago.

“Adeline please let me-“

Every sense of rationality I had knew this is not how a sensible discussion was supposed to go, but I had held it in for so long. After all, the rage from earlier was not completely settles just yet, “You had only kissed me that morning, Draco!” I raised my voice, only a few decibels away from shouting, There was every chance partygoers leaving the dancefloor could be lurking around to hear, but I could not care less, “I know there was nothing going on, before you begin. I’m not stupid, I know you think she’s just as unbearable as I do. But come on, you could have at least tried to push her away.”

Without saying a word, Draco pushed away from the bedpost and began his way over to me. Welling at my waterline, a single tear slipped down my cheek. I snapped back to face the mirror, refusing to show Draco.

Through laboured breaths I decided to continue, “Things were finally starting to fall into place, Draco. We were getting somewhere. I know you felt it too.”

Choking my words through tears, I decided to shut my mouth. Too vulnerable was not the look I was going for.

Out of the corner of my eye, Draco knelt to the floor to meet my eye level. He placed a surprisingly warm hand on my thigh, “Adeline, look at me.”

I wiped my eye not-so discreetly before turning to face him.

I’d missed his face so bad.

“Now, you listen to me. You walked in on our encounter before I had the chance to push her away. Please know that before you reached your room, I was already in mine. I have every reason to believe she joined me on that sofa just to get at you, and I think deep down you know that too.”

His voice was soft and gentle. This was a Draco I had so rarely seen over the past seventeen years. But I liked this Draco.

Perhaps even loved him.

“I don’t expect you to trust me straight away. But I will do everything I can to regain your trust. I need you, Adeline. Not just your help, but you in your entirety. I will do any and everything. Is that okay with you?”

My heartstrings had been tugged. Draco had reminded me exactly of the man I was falling in love with. He had given me plenty to think about, that was for sure.

“I’ll need some time.”

Draco showed a half, toothy smile, “That’s fine by me.”

Chapter Text

The final night of February enticed me from the castle into the mist-bathing Highlands. Silver fog glazed the rippling hills and hovered icily above the Black Lake. Any mysteries, or giant squids, lurking below the surface would be anonymously sheltered for the night. Frost slithered across my cheeks, seeping into my pores to lure the rosiness forth. Excluding my face, every other inch of my skin was smothered in wool and warmth. I couldn’t imagine March doing much to cull this cold.

While passing the Care of Magical Beasts classrooms during a previous evening stroll, I heard whispers of a thestral family looming around the outskirts of the lake. Curfew was yet to be called, but I figured enough students would be in their common rooms to allow me the secrecy needed to find the creatures. I just needed to sit with them for some time. The last time I sat with thestrals would have been after mine and Draco’s first meeting with the Dark Lord. It had been too long. Perhaps they were the comfort I needed.

Many may not agree, but I had always found thestrals to be a great source of peace in the most uncertain of times. Sometimes it was hard to think of a time in my life when anything at all was certain.

No coherent thoughts had managed to form in my mind since my conversation with Draco. Even in pin-dropping silence, my mind could not focus on any single thread or trail it had going. Professors were noticing my gradual withdrawal from class participation. I couldn’t even guilt trip myself into visiting the library. Considering the effort I gave to upholding my classroom demeanour since September, it would be weak to let things become obvious now.

It wasn’t hard to find the thestrals. Sometimes, younger ones enjoyed chasing each other around their space, causing them to flutter in the air to escape. I decided to perch myself on a nearby log rather than approach the animals. Unlike the ones I visited more often when at home, these thestrals didn’t know me. I didn’t want to stress them out, just share their company, even if it was distant.

With the patches of evergreen trees encasing me and the looming silhouette of Hogwarts across the lake, I felt incredibly small. In the grand scheme of things, I felt even smaller. Failure haunts my every move. Before September, I’d never imagined hopelessness could feel this… shrinking.

For as much as I pestered Draco about saving face around school, I certainly wasn’t the best example. Trelawney had spoken to me for the first time outside of a class to offer tutoring assistance. Sprout asked if I’d stay later to ‘help with the Mandrakes’. Even Slughorn, who usually whizzed by my workstation, now lingered around the Slytherin table like a foul smell. For the first time in six years, I had forgotten entirely about assignments and projects. That perhaps wouldn’t be so bad if I showed up to Quidditch practice every week. I was slipping academically, and the backlash from my mother would be nothing short of fiery.

The academic sacrifices I was making couldn’t be salvaged any other progress. Granger and Weasley still shared the corridors with me. Their presence at every mealtime was only a reminder of the impossible challenge I had been given. Of course I knew this would be difficult, but only now is the true consequence of this task hindering me.

A cause I’m not entirely sure I believe in is leading to my downfall. And there is nothing I can do about it.

Somehow, I feel even smaller. And sicker.

The thestrals are gone. In all my self-wallowing, I hadn’t even noticed their departure. I am alone.

Chapter Text

The thestrals weren’t enough of a distraction. I needed a shock to the system.

Like magic, the highland snow had almost thawed completely by the third day of March. Saturdays were the busiest days in Hogsmeade, and since the snow was nearly gone, that would be even more true.

In my time at Hogwarts, I had visited Hogsmeade less than 20 times. Tourist-packed places weren’t quite my type of crowd, and not many other sixth year Slytherins were interested in going. At one point, I would’ve visited with Pansy and Millicent. The rest were either with Draco or Carina. I enjoyed The Three Broomsticks enough, but there were many shops I had never set foot in. If my father had learned of his daughters spending his money in Hogsmeade, we probably never would have heard the end of it.

Since the Katie Bell incident, a lot of students refused to visit Hogsmeade. Younger ones were even advised against it. A couple of weeks after the event, it was completely forbidden. Dumbledore had since deemed what happened to be a ‘one-off eventuality’, but that wasn’t enough guarantee of safety for most. Knowing the truth of the incident gave me unforeboding confidence.

Considering the suspicious nature of my plan and deciding not to care, I left the castle shortly before midday. The main path guided my way – sneaking around was not on the agenda today. Billows of smoke warming brick fireplaces spiralled above the layered townhouses; cosiness undoubtedly attracted traffic to the village. Sharp breezes bristled against my face, rouging my cheeks and nose. Perhaps I could nestle myself in front of one of those fires.

I passed a couple of other students on their way back to the castle. From what I’ve overheard in the Great Hall, some houses send pockets of younger students on rotation to fulfil orders of sweets and joke items. Large, floating baskets trailing behind these students told me I had encountered one of these ‘common room market’ rings.

After browsing a few book and supply shops near the entrance of Hogsmeade, I made an impulsive decision to venture into Zonko’s. Now that father was gone and mother wouldn’t even think to track our spending, the temptations of a peculiar freedom took hold.

An enchanted bell announced my arrival into the shop. Zipwires with charmed nutcracker acrobats looped around the vast shop floor. If I had been much taller, I would’ve had to duck. Despite being a joke shop, the pyramid of chocolate frogs stood proudly in the corner. I craved the taste of a nostalgic, childhood treat, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to pick one up. There was a box somewhere in my house full of cards collected by Carina and me. Maybe I should try and find it.

Following the shelves towards the back of the store, I encountered a display of a floating tea set. Common sense that came with being in a joke shop warned me enough not to interact with anything. A pink porcelain teapot dripped a blue-tinted liquid into patiently floating teacups beneath. The cups themselves blossomed with a ribbed, flower design. Bobbles of flower petals blossomed above the rim, seemingly moving by themselves. One by one, the teacups filled with this mysterious liquid, some even overflowing to splash on the tile floor.

Without warning, the teacups simultaneously contorted into jaws, their teeth belonging to various predators. Sharp canines snapped at the air around them, spilling all the fluid on the floor and down my coat. I hopped back in surprise, my eyebrows curiously tilted. Mid-air splashback informed me of the sour juice that contaminated the hexed teacups. Now I’d discovered such prank toys, my future tea party attendance had plummeted significantly.

Hoping my coat wouldn’t stain too obviously, I hastily stomped for the door. All coins in my pocket remained firmly in their place as I swung the front door open once more. With any luck, nobody saw my joke shop mishap.

As lunchtime neared, I coincidentally meandered towards The Three Broomsticks. I hadn’t enjoyed a butterbeer in far too long. With a new book in my bag, a restful afternoon was in order.

Or so I thought.

Greeting me as I entered was a table of Gryffindors. No ‘golden trio’, but enough familiar faces to sour the atmosphere. Attempting to rise above old habits, I swiftly made my way to the other side of the ground floor, finding a corner booth to cozy into. Placing my new book, ‘Confronting the Faceless’, on the table, I requested a pint from a wandering barman.

My new book was actually a textbook recommended by Snape. We’d be using it in a few short weeks, but considering my current record, a head start could’ve been beneficial. With a butterbeer now in hand, I filtered through the contents page to find any areas of interest. I landed on one – Inferi. To me, Inferi were a topic familiar to my home dining table. Father seemed to be experienced in… dealing with Inferi, but Carina and I never received many more details. Maybe this would fill me in.

Lost in the riveting text, I’d forgotten to scan my surroundings. My sincere focus was interrupted by the tip of a wand appearing between my eyes and the pages of the book. Below the table, I inched my hand closer to the hilt of my wand tucked in my cardigan. At least this time, I wasn’t the instigator.

“It’s about time for you to leave, Avery.” An Irish voice spoke. Seamus Finnigan. A character I hadn’t encountered excessively at Hogwarts – mostly in fear of a poorly-aimed pyrotechnic stunt. Many of my frequent library loans had been singed by his ‘experiments’, “We don’t appreciate your taunting us.”

I couldn’t resist the urge to raise my head in confusion. For once, I really had not done anything wrong.

“We were here first. You should be the one to go.” He spoke again, his wand now shaking. That Gryffindor bravery was wobbling steadfastly.

The cocky Avery smile spread across my lips before I could control it, “If my presence causes you such apprehension, that says more about you than it does me.”

I folded the corner of my page and gently closed my book. There was no doubt in my mind that whatever I was reading would be reported back to that scarlet common room this evening. Seamus’ lips wobbled slightly as I sipped from my half-empty glass. Suppressing a laugh, I considered the possible outcomes of this scenario and attempted to prepare for them all, “I’d appreciate if you could lower your wand.”

“Leave. Before I-“

“I’m sat on the other side of the pub, facing an opposite direction from you and reading a book. What about that is so threatening to you?” I questioned. I at least deserved to hear the faltered logic behind this escalation.

Seamus lowered his voice, clearly aiming to intimidate, “You fucking Slytherins can’t be trusted. Last time youse were here, Katie Bell almost died. I’m not wanting to learn if that was just a coincidence.”

“Get your wand out of my face.”

Seamus stood still, the same grin creeping up to his gums.

“Get your fucking wand-“

“Just what is going on here?” Madame Rosmerta boomed, storming out from behind the bar. She glared between us. Only one of us had a raised wand. This could only go well for me.

“You tell me!” I proclaimed, silence befalling the pub. Far too many eyes now glanced my way. Seamus’ wand dropped to his side, his eyes diverting from mine. I raised my eyebrows angrily, cocking my head to glare at him. By this time, I’d pushed the round table away from my chair to stand, “I was minding my business until this bastard came over.”

“It’s about time someone did something about people like you.”

Me, and everyone else who was listening, knew exactly what he meant. The rumours had been going around since my father died. I wasn’t oblivious to them. Outwardly denying it would be just as suspicious as ignoring it all together.

“I don’t think setting this pub on fire with a backfired charm would do an awful lot, do you?” I retorted, picking on his lack of affinity for anything, really. My absence of fear contorted itself into bitter cockiness. What was left of my rationality started to fizz away.

This could only go well for me.

“How are we supposed to know you don’t have barrels of Erumpent potion stacked in the cellars? You lot are doing all you can to cause chaos,” Seamus announced, launching an accusation into the thinning air. I was more annoyed I hadn’t thought of Erumpent potion before now.

Madame Rosmerta slammed down the empty pint glasses she carried onto my table to snap the tension. Understandably, she couldn’t let Seamus get away with saying such things. It would be bad for business at the very least, “Enough!”

Rosmerta turned to me with a face of stone, “Miss Avery, I think it’s time for you to leave.”

My ears couldn’t quite believe what they’d heard.

“What?”

“My customers seem to be quite distressed in your presence. Perhaps it’s best if you take your galleons elsewhere.” She stated, little emotion cracking through her solid expression.

Blood rushed down to my feet, draining me of all colours. My brain scoured for something to say, but no words came forward quick enough.

“With immediate effect,” taunted Seamus, an even wider grin spread across his stumped face. Rosmerta shot him a vile glare, and he returned arrogantly to his table.

I turned sharply, shoving all my belongings into the charmed bag I’d tucked into my coat before leaving. Dreading a sour aftertaste, I tipped the remainder of my butterbeer onto the floor. Sawdust soon soaked up most of the liquid, but a mop would still be necessary.

Raising my head above the lowly clientele beneath me, I strode towards the great oak door at the far end of the pub. The table of Gryffindors was easy enough to find again. Seamus had returned to his pint already.

I couldn’t leave without an exit line. My father would simply roll in his grave.

Slamming my hands onto their table, I leaned into the circle of knuckleheads, “You’d best hope that Erumpent potion doesn’t go off whilst you’re in here.” Pushing off the table, I resumed my stride.

“Flipendo!” I cast proudly at their table. Only in The Three Broomsticks could it ever rain butterbeer.