Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1 – Only the beginning.
For the longest time Thea had lived in a dichotomy of existence. It had been this way since the death of her parents half a life time ago. During the day people knew her as the brave, loyal and charming young witch she presented. They envied her for the casual ease she projected with such steady confidence. They envied her for her title, her wealth and all the perceived luxuries that came of such a world. She was loyal, fun and never shied away from a challenge.
But the version of herself that emerged in the dark hours of the night was a different beast entirely. Removed from the distractions of the day she retreated into herself as one suffocating beneath a thick blanket of shame and haunting memories. Every night the darkness called to her, called to her through the winking of the stars as if the very devil itself was drawing out a cherished playmate. It beckoned her forth with the crooked finger of wickedness, long and sharpened to a point, the very embodiment of death and sin.
But when the quiet came for her, so too did the repentance. She'd resisted the call of the night for such a long time, leaving her body crumbling atop the torrid bed she'd made of all the awful things she had done and the knowledge of all the awful things she could yet do.
And yet the truest irony of all this was that the strong girl who in the eyes of so many had everything, spent many a sleepless night feeling like she had nothing.
So when a letter with an elegant crest had arrived for her all those months ago, she'd trailed it with the wonder of someone not quite believing what they were seeing. But before she'd even summoned the courage to open the invitation, it had been snatched from her grasp by her foreboding older brother.
He'd scanned the contents with a sneer fixed firmly upon the harsh points of his cheekbones before he'd tossed it unceremoniously at her with a bark of a laugh. He'd made some off hand comment, laced with cold sarcasm over how he thought someone like her would be above such mundane trivialities like school before he'd strode off to yell at the kitchen staff for burning their lunch.
Once he'd gone Thea had read and reread the letter many times over as if trying to discern the truth behind some fairy tale before finally the message had sunk in. The first page was a directive from the British ministry for magic decreeing that she, at sixteen, would need to attend some form of formal magical education or face the consequences. Whatever those consequences were she didn't like to imagine. But if she were to hazard a guess, she doubted it would be no more dubious than an elaborate and unnecessary 'snapping of the wand' ceremony.
The second was a letter of acceptance to a school in Scotland called Hogwarts. And while she had heard of the place she hadn't attended any form of education, magical or otherwise, in a very long time.
Thea had sat there at the carved wooden table for an impossibly long time, stuck in frozen indecision.
She knew her brother, the art dealer, would be furious at losing the one he called his 'offsider', as repugnant as that role seemed to her. But the more she thought about it, the more she began to relish the prospect of a new adventure. It seemed an opportunity too good to miss. An opportunity to get out from under the thumb of her arrogant and manipulative older brother. An opportunity to emerge beneath the dark shadow of her family legacy. An opportunity to carve out her own place in the world and perhaps find some semblance of the forgiveness she so desperately craved.
Two weeks later and she found herself standing before a pair of elaborately carved wooden doors with an elderly professor and a conceited principal having just survived the fight of her life. She knew by some form of twisted logic that George Osric was dead because of her; because of the abilities she possessed. It had been a long time since she had used such powers and as she stood there now, shouldering the heady weight of the blame, she could not help the lump of penitence that had formed in her throat once more.
Professor Black stared at her dishevelled appearance with unbridled disdain clouding his features and Thea knew she must appear a wreck after their harried arrival. Dutifully she ran a hand through her hair, but her efforts were in vain and she felt the long blonde locks, matted with dried blood and dirt, snag upon her digits painfully. The dull ache upon her cheek signified the moment they'd stumbled through the magical barrier in the forests around the castle. She'd scraped her skin upon a the branch of a tree, which she imagined had left an accusing red mark. With an anxious tug at the hem of her jumper she sighed, allowing the feelings of resignation to fill her along with the shame.
Professor Black's moustache curled up at the corner, no doubt with a measure of disgust but Thea was too weary to respond. He turned, placing a bejewelled hand upon the carved wooden surface, pushing hard to reveal a large, elaborate hall. Hundreds of curious eyes turned at the sound, each young face craning to eye the intruder.
And she froze.
The aisle was long, as was the walk, to the podium of at the end. And for one moment her panicked brain couldn't discern the difference between this walk and the March of Condemnation; the final fabled stretch of twisted path from the boat ramp to the prison cells at Azkaban.
Her heart began to hammer like some wild thing, so erratically it could almost have broken from it's bony cage. Her eyelids slammed shut, clamped tight to shield the trembling witch from the myriad of accusing stares. Lifting a hand, she swiped unsteady fingers over her forehead, feeling the sweat that had begun to bead on her brow. But then –
– a memory, as powerful as it was commanding. Her family motto, insistent, strong and true.
Let them hate so long as they fear.
She steeled herself, taking a deep breath and allowing it to fill her up before she stepped slowly after the headmaster. Stubbornly she refused to let her own feelings sully her composure any longer. She felt the courage of her family name slide upon the tip of her tongue, repeating itself like a mantra in the deep recesses of her mind. With the strength of of that knowledge alone she felt her back straighten just that little bit further, her head held just that little bit higher. She kept her gaze firmly fixed upon the stool at the end of the aisle, dutifully ignoring the burning of the stares of the hundreds of intrigued eyes that had turned her way. Just as she ignored the barely constrained whisperings that followed her footsteps as she trekked between the long wooden tables.
A red-headed witch with kindly eyes had greeted her at the podium, directing her to seat herself upon the unsteady looking stool and placing a ragged hat upon her head. Irrationally, it had whispered to her, speaking of her power and an ambition to prove her value both to herself and others. The word 'Slytherin!' had erupted from it a moment later, echoing around the room to the applaud of a table of students all dressed in green.
The rest of the evening had passed in a bit of a blur. Thea was so exhausted by that point she barely absorbed anything beyond the softness of the mattress when she'd finally laid to rest in her new dormitory.
She awoke the next day to find herself alone in the opulent suite. Four richly decorated beds dotted the room kept warm by a large and cosy marble fireplace. Finding a trunk of robes at the foot her bed, no doubt provided by the kindly red-head professor, she dressed in a subdued manner before heading out in search of the common room.
As she trailed her hand along the smooth cold of the wrought iron balustrade, she wondered for the umpteenth time how she could have possibly ended up here. This was her first form of magical education, after all. Not to mention the awful way she and the professor had come barrelling into the great hall last night. She was sure the rumours were swirling.
And while she should have felt nervous by that sentiment alone, she was not. She knew she could stand on her own two feet. Having long been tutored in the subtleties of artful conversations, Thea knew she could be both charming and charismatic.
So when she'd finally descended the staircase, stepping into the wide expanse of the common room, it was with the strength of her character and a proud surety set upon her shoulders. Turning her gaze slowly, she admired the opulence of the chamber with unbridled wonder. It was truly magnificent in a way that was befitting of the grandeur that accompanied her house name.
But what the blonde girl hadn't anticipated when she'd stepped beyond the staircase was the squeal of surprise that had sounded beside her. She felt a heat creep along her skin, her green eyes widening in horror as a smaller girl with mousy brown hair swept low in a curtsy before her. “Miss Harrington,” the girl had murmured respectfully, keeping her gaze down turned.
Suddenly the common room was eerily silent, save for the ominous crackling of the fire. Thea could feel the scorch of a hundred eyes, burning into her skin with equal amounts of curiosity and accusation. Hastily she bent, snaring the brunette girl's arm in an attempt to force her to rise. “I – There's really no need,” she stuttered uncharacteristically, utter mortification colouring her voice. The girl allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, confusion marring her pale features.
“But you're a Harrington,” the brunette said slowly, as if that statement alone trumped any other logic. In any other circumstance the smaller girl's demure behaviour was both propitious and correct. Thea was a Harrington, a family who had long reigned at the top of the sacred twenty eight. By rights, that made her effectively royalty amongst wizarding kind.
But this was not something the blonde girl had ever appreciated or valued. It was a station she'd been born into, an occupation of sorts, but it was absolutely not what defined her. And there was nothing, nothing, she found more detestable than the perception that she was better than anyone else.
Especially after what she had done.
“I – no. It's Thea, really.” she insisted quietly, wincing at the irritation that had inadvertently leaked out behind her embarrassment. The smaller girl eyed her warily for a moment as if wondering whether Thea was trying to trick her. Finally, she held out a hand. “I'm Grace,” she said. “Grace Pinch-Smedley. We've met before, actually. At the last mid-summer ball. Though I am not sure you remember me,” she added shyly.
Thea felt her brow pinch infinitesimally in annoyance. The mid-summer ball was a tradition amongst the most noble of pure-blood families where they gathered to indulge in a sickening display of wealth and power. Essentially it was thinly veiled excuse for the vain to preen and peacock with one another over the grandeur of their own estates. It was the social event of the year. One she was forced to attend out of nothing more than auspicious expectation. Resentfully, her brother always made a point of parading her around the ballroom like some prized trinket, capitalising on her loveliness and grace under the ubiquitous guise of 'networking'. And every year it made her nauseous from the pearls of her teeth where they shone with the facade of rapture, to the tendons and muscles that had her gliding across the dance floor in the arms of narcissists.
“Of course,” she lied smoothly. “You were radiant that night.”
Grace beamed at the praise. “Thank-you, Miss – Thea.” She quickly corrected, effectively halting the glare that had threatened to form upon the blonde's face.
Finally the commotion of the common room eased back into normality, the groups that had gathered returning to their original endeavours. Thea felt her shoulders slump with an exhaustion that had nothing to do with tiredness. Quietly she slinked away to a darkened corner, feeling the stones dig into the skin of her back as she slid to the floor. Sighing, she pressed her hands into her face, grateful for a small moment of reprieve after that humiliating introduction.
In all her nights of rumination over this very moment, never had she deigned to consider that this would be an issue. Indeed, as much as it may be remiss for her to admit, she'd actually felt a sense of relief at the idea that she might be able to escape the unbearable burden of her title here. If only for a while.
But to be singled out on her very first encounter with her peers .. Oh, Merlin, what the bloody hell was she going to do?
Around the general hum of activity through the common room, the blonde girl hadn't heard the approach of another until he spoke. “Come now, classes haven't even begun. It's far to early in the year to look that defeated!”
Her head snapped up at the gentle teasing of his voice to eye a handsome boy with messy brown hair. There was a warmth sparkling in his rich, brown eyes, freckles dusting the plains of his skin where it stretched over his cheeks in a cocky smirk. He towered above her, one long hand extended towards her in offering. She eyed his digits with a small measure of distrust, briefly contemplating the efficacy of refusing. Instead she took it, feeling the warmth of his palm as it clasped her own, pulling her to her feet.
“You certainly know how to make an entrance,” he continued, his expression creasing with the mirth evident on his lips. “I'm Sebastian, by the way. Sebastian Sallow.”
Thea's green eyes roved the handsome features of the boy before her in earnest, testing the weight of his sincerity. And for the first time in her life, the blonde girl felt her confidence falter. Her whole existence she'd always been bolstered by the knowledge and pride that accompanied her family name. Whether mingling with the crowds on the streets of Diagon Alley or locked in hostile negotiations with the most guarded of nobility, her convictions had never failed her. Not once. It simply wasn't in her nature to be nervous.
But until now she'd never stood above the rest with any measure of negative connotation. And that thought alone had her breaths quickening and her voice failing upon her tongue as it never had before.
“Thea H – ” she began. Unconsciously she felt her eyes dart to the smaller brunette once more, before flicking back to Sebastian's face, her lip caught between her teeth. “Just Thea,” she said softly, a small, resigned smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“Well, 'Just Thea,'” Sebastian teased, holding the crook of his arm out to her. “How would you like to accompany me to breakfast?”
Thea smiled, taking his arm in her own and feeling the warmth of the simple motion fill her up like a steaming cup of butterbeer. As he navigated them through the pairs of eyes staring unabashedly, she felt the tension that had settled between her ribs begin to ease. She'd been feeling like a pariah since her encounter with Grace moments ago. Perhaps pompously she equated it to being a deity amongst the commoners. Where they would revere her from a distance but would never allow themselves to get to close lest her glorious light burn them. While some people might envy her for this, for her it was only miserable and lonely. She couldn't begin to express the gratitude she felt when Sebastian had approached her so comfortably.
He chatted freely on their way to the great hall, pointing out the features and oddities of the castle with an infectious exuberance. Thea felt the smile on her face stretch wider, forming a genuine grin of thrill at his antics. The Slytherin boy was confident and charming in a way that was entirely captivating. She felt drawn to his friendliness the way that a comet might when orbiting a planet. She had to admit it was a strange feeling of sorts, the pull of one being to another, but not an entirely unwelcome one.
He led her to the long table on the far side of the room, decorated in colours of emerald and silver. Gone was the magnificent feast from the night before. Instead the timber was laden with a more humble, but plentiful, means of sustenance. They seated themselves halfway down, Sebastian's voice only halting momentarily so he could pile his plate high with eggs and bacon. She felt her eyes widen, repulsed by the his unapologetic display of gluttony.
Boys, she thought with a small shake of her head, before helping herself to a more modest bowl of muesli. The table jostled slightly when a blonde boy holding aloft a glowing red wand seated himself opposite.
“I hope you don't expect me to bow to you,” he drawled, his rich voice laden with disdain. Clouded blue eyes, hard and icy, met with her own and Thea couldn't help but shiver at his open hostility. With a start she realised she recognised the pale boy. He was one of the Gaunt brothers. Moreover, he was one that Benedict had strongly encouraged her to dance with at the most recent mid-summer ball. That particular encounter had soured pretty quickly, leaving both parties feeling particularly perturbed by the end of the night.
She felt the colour drain from her face, sliding to the floor like a tipped cup of pumpkin juice. The Gaunts were well known for the conviction of their pure-blood ideals. For years rumours had swirled around the depth to which they'd be willing to sink in pursuit of such beliefs. Not to mention how much further they would go if someone were ever to mislead them. Ominis' expression was a complete mask where he stared at her sightlessly, leaving her only guessing as to his opinion of her own corruption.
“Ominis,” she said, tipping her head in what was meant to be a gesture of regard. But really, beneath the butterflies and the nausea now tearing her apart from the inside out, it only came out as timid.
“Thea,” he replied, clouded eyes flashing with what she surmised was a barely concealed warning. Beside her, Sebastian had watched the interaction with muted interest, the half-chewed remnants of his latest bite hanging grotesquely from his mouth.
“Repulsive, Sallow. Have a shred of dignity.” A raven haired witch snarked, sliding into the seat beside him. Rudely she thrust a hand between Sebastian and his meal, forcing the boy to dart back with a cry of annoyance.
“I'm Imelda,” she said, ignoring his reaction as Thea shook the offering hesitantly. “And you must be the new fifth year. Interesting tactic on your first day. Taking all the attention away from the first years. Shame I wasn't with you and Fig on your trip over. I could have lured that dragon away. My skills on a broom are legendary. Perhaps one of these days I'll show you a thing or too about flying.”
Imelda's pitch black eyes were boring heavily into Thea's own in a way that made her feel as though she was being sized up. For what, she wasn't entirely sure.
“Is that right?” she asked, feigning incredulity. “It sounds as if you would have been quite the asset.”
At that Imelda's eyes glimmered in the candlelight, her body preening with pride. Thea could feel the waves of haughty judgement emanating from Ominis across the table but she ignored him. Beside her, Sebastian merely smirked. “Smooth,” he whispered, giving her a gentle nudge and a wink.
“So, Thea,” he continued, loud enough for the others to hear. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
She paused mid-mouthful. Genuinely, she hadn't really thought that far ahead. Until this morning her mind had been occupied with nothing more than thoughts of survival. “I don't know,” she began with a shrug. “Perhaps I'll go for a run?”
“A run?” the blind boy drawled, not even bothering to conceal his contempt. “Have you no dignity either?” Thea could feel the ire in her blood begin to boil. This boy it seemed, was determined to irk her. “It's cathartic,” she replied, allowing the irritation to seep into her tone. She rose from her seat to lean over the table, fixing him with a challenging stare. “You should try it one time.”
Before Ominis could utter an acerbic retort, they were interrupted by an undignified snort from the other side of Sebastian. “When you two are done bickering like children, I'd like to join you.” Imelda said, sliding swiftly out of her own seat.
After changing into more appropriate sportswear they'd met outside the quidditch stadium. Imelda, despite being a proficient flyer, confessed herself somewhat of a novice when it came to running. But in the absence of organised matches this year, she was desperate to maintain her level of fitness, no matter how ridiculous the activity may seem to her. Thea, on the other hand, trained several times a week, relishing in the peace and clarity that accompanied it.
They set out in a slow jog, the pace a bit lax for her tastes, but it allowed for conversation to flow freely between them.
“So, you're a Harrington, I hear,” Imelda began. “What's that like?”
The raven haired girl's tone was nothing like the curious awe that she was used to when presented such a question. Conversely, it was as blunt as a dull knife. Thea sighed, surprised, and allowed her feet a moment to tap a rhythm of their own while she thought carefully. “Well, it's not all parties and princes, I can tell you that much.” she said drily.
Imelda snorted ungracefully. “Please, I hardly assumed as much. I do imagine though it's a lot of responsibility though.”
The blonde only nodded her head in agreement, this time rubbing her temple in contemplation. “My life til now has been about carrying on the family legacy, which largely means supporting my brother in whatever he endeavours he chooses to pursue. He's an art dealer, you see. Benedict expects me to fulfil a certain role; the shallow but lovely blonde. The one who ultimately charms and flirts with those he needs to schmooze for his latest acquisitions. I – it's not something I enjoy. In fact, I find it despicable. But it is something I have to do.”
Imelda scoffed. “Eugh! That sounds repulsive. You shouldn't let a man tell you how to act or who you are.” And Thea couldn't help but agree. “I would never allow myself to be used like that. Especially by a controlling twat. At least here you get to set your own path. Do as you please and unapologetically be who you choose to be. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”
Thea's gaze fell to the dirt beneath their feet. If only it was that simple. But she couldn't help the flare of warmth that had flooded through her at Imelda's ferocity. The raven haired girl was frank in a way that was refreshing. And she had to admit that she could see them fast becoming friends.
They ran for another few miles, picking up the pace towards the end. Conversation had fallen by the wayside a while ago to allow the competitors to concentrate on the huff of their breathing and the synchronicity of their limbs. By the time they'd returned, tired but satisfied, the common room was near devoid of students. Imelda had thanked the blonde girl before ascending the girls' staircase to seek a refreshing shower.
This left Thea alone by the fireplace, gently stretching her limbs as the flames soothed the ache in her muscles. Seated nearby, a familiar blonde boy lowered his book to fix her with a grimace. His nose wrinkled in distaste as the red tip of his wand roamed her attire. She felt her posture straighten, the irritation flooding back in under the intense scrutiny.
“What is your problem?” she snapped, her hand finding her hip.
Ominis' mouth curled into an ugly sneer. “I know who you are, Thea Harrington,” he said almost maliciously and she felt her body bristle in response to his arrogance. “You're a liar and a fraud.”
Ominis had said it almost as a whisper. But she'd heard with as much clarity as if he'd shouted it from the Astronomy tower. She felt the tension leave her body, sliding from her posture at the same time as all the blood drained from her face. She stared at him wide-eyed and silent, feeling the slowing of her heartbeat as it cooled in her chest.
For a moment all she could do was stare at the cold, hard truth where it lay between them like scattered puzzle pieces thrust upon the floor. Desperately she wished she could refute his claims. Only hearing the words aloud now, she knew that Ominis was right. She was a liar. And a fraud. But not in the way he so assumed.
He'd seen her fulfilling the fallacy of the flirtatious beauty. He'd seen her in her role as a Harrington. But never, had Ominis seen her truly at her worst. That was a secret she held close to her chest. A shameful and monstrous secret that no one outside of her family knew.
She felt her shoulders slump beneath the weight of her own self-loathing as flashes of memories danced before her vision. “Yes,” she said softly, swallowing hard against the lump that had formed in her throat. “I am.”