Archive of Our Own

before

“Take my arm, Eretria.”

She looked up at the bearded man with the deeply lined face and hard eyes. Cephelo was so much taller than her seven-year-old self, and the way he had inspected her coldly head-to-toe upon arriving at the foster home made her shiver with unease. Still, he was her uncle (he looked enough like her mother--or how her mother had looked, when she was alive--to believe that) and she had no better choice but to go with him.

So she took his arm, her small hand gripping his leather sleeve tightly. Then he was muttering under his breath, and suddenly, her insides squeezed, her skin pulled painfully, and sound and color wove and screamed around her loudly. Eretria screamed too, frightened by the strange experience.

Then with a pop it was over, and she stumbled away from her uncle, stunned that there was grass instead of wooden floors under her feet now.

Cephelo scoffed as she considered him warily. “Better get used to Apparating, kid. Better get used a lot of things, actually. You’re in our world now.”

Whether we like it or not, he breathed in annoyance under his breath before turning towards the large gate in front of them.

Eretria stared up at the large house with an owl swooping over it--an owl in bright daylight--and felt dizzy.

She felt dizzy for the next few weeks as she learned about witches and wizards, about magic. She learned that her mother hadn’t been a witch although everyone in her family--a family which dated back to the days of kings! her uncle used to say with a bitter type of pride--but a squid. Squibb, her cousin would correct with a mean sniff. She learned her mother had left (she didn’t need to be told that her mother hadn’t been given much of a choice), had married a Muggle (a dirty word, at least from her uncle’s mouth), and had her. Eretria learned that although she showed some signs of being a witch, her uncle still stared at her suspiciously, like an invader, like someone who didn’t belong.

For four years, she endured that look from him, and from everyone else in the too-large, too-cold house where her family lived. Then she turned eleven, the Hogwarts letter came, and her uncle smiled. For the first time in four years, he actually smiled at her. She didn’t smile back because she had long ago given up on truly pleasing ghim.

Later that night, though, when she was alone in her room, she unfolded the letter. Squinting in the dark, she read the words that told her she would be going away--away from this house that wasn’t a home, away from the people who should love her but didn’t, just away. And then she didn’t just smile; she cried, too.

 one

Eretria couldn’t stop looking up. The enchanted ceiling, the floating candles, the ghosts passing over the long tables of excited students were so fantastical, so unbelievable even after years of knowing about magic. It didn’t seem real.

The talking hat (Sorting Hat, her cousin would say in exasperation) didn’t seem real either, not when it was singing nor when it was shouting out House names. Eretria eyed it warily whenever she looked away from the wonder above her. Every time it shouted Slytherin, her heart beat a little faster. Her whole family belonged to Slytherin, something she was told more times than she could remember by her uncle and the rest of them.

You do too, he had said definitively, clapping her on the shoulder. She didn’t forget the way his grip tightened as he said it, as if she didn’t quite understand the importance of it all. Eretria did, even if she didn’t want to, so she just smiled grimly at her relatives to placate them.

To keep her nerves at bay, she kept staring at the wonder around her instead of the students who walked up to sit on the stool. It was only when a noticeable silence fell over the crowd that she looked down. A pretty girl with shining brown hair sat stick-straight, her eyes hidden slightly by the brim of the Hat. Everyone in the hall seemed to be watching her. Everyone in the hall seemed to be waiting, for her.

A sharp sensation ran through Eretria, one of uncomfortability and exclusion. Clearly this girl was someone. Someone who’s sorting—who’s mere existence--mattered to the whole school, apparently. She scowled as the girl’s hands clutched the stool seat tighter, as if she was nervous. What could this girl possibly have to be nervous about if everyone already cared so much about her?

When the Hat announced Gryffindor, the whole hall erupted in cheers and whistles. A few sparking wands startled Eretria. The excitement didn’t die down even when the girl was enveloped by fellow Housemates at their table, and the next student was Sorted even before the noise had lessened enough to hear the announcement. Eretria’s shoulders crept up towards her ears, and her new robes itched at her neck. She thought about loosening her tie, but the name list crept closer and closer to hers, so she didn’t dare. She wasn’t going to embarrass her family, not on her first night here.

“Rovere, Eretria!”

With a deep, unsteady breath, she shuffled up to the dais. Her cheeks flamed as she jumped up onto the stool, watching all the eyes watching her. Thankfully the Hat was dropped onto her head immediately, obscuring her view.

The gravelly voice of the Hat startled her, but it wasn’t until it hmm’d and asked Gryffindor? that her heart started to beat with fear.

No, Slytherin. Slytherin! She begged.

When the Hat hmm’d again, disapproval in its voice, she flashed back to her cousin’s sneer and her uncle’s firm grip on her shoulder. Her eyes burned with gathering tears, and she pleaded: Slytherin, please, please put me in Slytherin.

Is that really what you want? The Hat asked, sounding strangely kind, and sad too.

Blood rushed in Eretria’s ears as the words she should say--yes, of course, yes!--stuck in her throat. Her shoulders tingled with the weight of her uncle’s expectations, and her fingers grew numb from gripping the seat so tightly.

I don’t know, she said instead, suddenly. I don’t know what I want.

It takes a brave soul to admit that, the Hat coaxed. One of the many reasons I believe you’ll do well in Gryffindor. In fact, I believe you will do much more than well there. Do you trust me?

Eretria almost scowled at the absurdity of that question: trusting a hat? Even so, there was a flare of heat that went up in her chest at the thought of walking into her uncle’s home dressed in red and gold. Whether it was rebellion or fear, she didn’t know. All she knew is that she nodded in affirmation. She trusted the Hat.

“Gryffindor!” It cried, and a hearty cheer went up. Eretria blinked in the bright candlelight as the Hat was lifted off her head. Numbly, she walked over to her House’s table. Hands clapped her back and ruffled her hair as she sat down, but as she shook off her daze, turning to thank them, her neighbors were already refocused on the dais.

The only Gryffindor still looking at her was the brown-haired first-year girl from before. She smiled and sent her a little wave. That sharp sensation from before pricked Eretria again, and she scowled at the girl before jerking her gaze towards the Hat.

That girl had had enough attention tonight, she figured. She didn’t need any more.

Amberle Elessedil was who that girl was, as Eretria learned in the following weeks. Granddaughter of the Minister, she was an orphan whose parents’ had died last year on an Auror mission to root out a pocket of Dark wizards. A tragedy, was what everyone called it--a complete tragedy.

Everyone looked at her with a soft sort of pity; everyone went out of their way to make sure she was comfortable and adjusting well.

No one cared that Eretria’s parents were dead too. No one made sure she wasn’t struggling in her classes (she was, dreadfully) or getting lost in the castle (she rarely picked the right staircase). Bitterness took firmer root in Eretria’s gut with every smile and helpful word that her Housemates gave Amberle.

She refused to acknowledge her, no matter how many tentative waves and glances the young ‘princess’ of Hogwarts sent her way. Soon enough she was sending sneers and harsh words at her fellow Gryffindor; the balance had to be reset somehow, she figured. It didn’t earn her any love from her Housemates, and she told herself she didn’t care.

Leaves fell, and snow fell, and classes got a little bit easier. Eretria didn’t get so lost anymore. Still, she ate alone at meals, studied alone, sat in the Common Room alone. Sometimes her chest would ache with regret when Amberle and the other first year Gryffindors stumbled in the portrait hole, smiles wide and cheeks red and hair wet from a snowball fight. Maybe, if she had tried harder, she could have been with them too.

Then a cluster of people would form around Amberle, like moths to a flame, and that ache turned hot and furious. It was unfair, so unfair. So Eretria would tear her gaze away and bury herself deeper in her studies, clenching her wand so tightly she thought it might snap.

Her wand surprisingly stayed intact as snow gave way to budding branches and blooming flowers. She received a letter from her family--the first one since her uncle’s Howler after the Sorting--asking if she was coming to stay with them for the summer. Dully she wrote down her answer (yes), knowing there was no difference between staying at Hogwarts or going home.

Either way, she would be alone.

two

It was with a surprising amount of relief that Eretria returned to Hogwarts in the fall. There was a comfort in the four-poster beds and shifting staircases, in the rustle of parchment in the quiet library or the joyful murmurs of the bustling Great Hall that she didn’t have in the austere halls of her family’s home. It was still lonely, but at least no one glared at her with disdain or suspicion.

She didn’t look anyone directly in the eye until October, when they were paired up in Potions. A boy with a yellow-and-grey tie and chin-length yellow hair smiled at her as he pulled out a stool.

“I’m Wil,” he greeted her warmly.

She glared at him, taking in his threadbare robes and hand-me-down books. Her gaze softened when he folded his arms protectively over the battered covers. She often did the same with her own.

“I’m Eretria,” she muttered.

“I know.” His grin widened just the slightest, and she had to resist the urge to scowl. They were going to be partners for the whole year, after all. No use risking her grade unnecessarily.

He turned out to be pretty useless at Potions. Every time he added a wrong ingredient she sighed and stifled down insults. If it wasn’t for his sheepish grin and genuine helplessness, she would’ve had no problem saying them out loud. Wil was just so--open. She couldn’t justify calling him an idiot when he smiled at her with an embarrassed flush on his cheeks.

One snowy afternoon, when they were working on a Potions project, he noticed her most recent Defense Against the Dark Arts essay covered in red marks.

Wil started, “Allanon--”

“I hate him,” Eretria interrupted.

Wil sighed, half-exasperated and half-amused, the way he often did around her, especially when she was being stubborn. (She wasn’t sure if she was happy or annoyed he knew her that well). “Allanon is hard, but he’s just trying to teach you about theory just as much about practicality.” He paused. “I could help you, you know.”

Eretria frowned. “I don’t need help.”

“You sure?”

“Just write our next section,” she replied, shoving the half-finished Potions essay towards him.

Wil shrugged and picked up his quill without another word.

Two weeks later, she smacked another Defense essay scroll--covered in even more red marks than the last--in front of him at their library table. “Help me.”

Wil grinned then bit it back. “Okay. But only if you correct my wand grips for our Transfiguration assignment.”

The rest of their second year continued in much the same way. Eretria pulled him through Herbology and Wil pulled her through Charms. He’d eat with her at the Gryffindor table sometimes, and she’d sneak out to go ride brooms with him on the Quidditch pitch early on spring mornings.

When they got off the train at Platform 9 ¾ in June, she froze when he pulled her into a hug.

“Have a good summer!” He called over his shoulder as he ran to meet his mother.

“You too,” she rasped out faintly, watching mother and son hug tightly.

There was no one to meet her at the station, just a Ministry-registered car and a chauffeur. Even so, she climbed in with a small smile on her face, one that returned a week later when an owl flew in her bedroom window with a letter for her from Wil.

three

“Oh.”

Eretria turned around, her fingers remaining on her owl’s leg tie. Amberle was in the doorway. Her robes billowed in the wind blowing in behind her, and her eyes shifted to look anywhere but her.

“You’re letting the cold in,” Eretria muttered. She turned back to the owl. It was a letter to her uncle, the usual one letting him know she was staying at Hogwarts for the winter holiday.

The door creaked shut quietly behind her. She could hear Amberle walking cautiously up next to her. A soft rustle of feathers, and then her owl was landing on the perch, right next to Eretria’s. They worked in silence until Eretria clucked, and with her owl on her arm, went to the window to send it off. She was just heading for the door when Amberle spoke.

“Why do you hate me?”

The words were sharp and loud, indignant and a little hurt. Any guilt Eretria felt was soon erased by annoyance that the Princess clearly assumed everyone needed to like her.

“I don’t hate you,” Eretria retorted shortly, head half-turned over her shoulder. “I don’t even think about you, or notice you, actually. I just don’t care about you, Amberle.”

She ignored the quiet intake of breath from the other girl and stormed out the door. Wind whipped at her cheeks and hair as she flew down the tower steps glazed over with frost.

She didn’t care; she didn’t.

four

Eretria glared at her mug of butterbeer, The Three Broomsticks was noisy around her, filled with fellow students celebrating the first Hogsmeade trip of the school year. She was tucked in a small corner booth, out of the way of the main hustle and bustle.

She wasn’t tucked away enough to not notice Wil leaning on the bar with his next round of drink smiling and laughing with Amberle. Twenty minutes ago he had left the table; the line hadn’t been long at all. Princess had been in line behind him, though, and so he paid for her drink and she returned the payment by giving him her attention.

Sipping at her drink to wash the sour taste from her mouth, Eretria glared at the two of them. They were bright, reflecting each other’s light. They were happy. When he was with her instead, his smiles were only met by sarcasm and eye rolls. Maybe that’s why he was taking so long; maybe he just wanted someone to smile back at him.

Her mug was almost empty by the time Wil returned.

“Sorry,” he said, sliding back into his seat. His thigh brushed against hers, and she wished she was strong enough to pull away. “Got held up.”

She shrugged because he was used to her indifference (she didn’t let him see anything else).

“Aw, shite. You’re almost done.” He leaned back from peering into her cup.

A biting retort clawed at her throat but she shoved it down (she didn’t want him to see anything, know anything). “Then finish yours so we can go.”

Wil took his sweet time sipping and slurping--and stealing glances at Amberle. It tried Eretria’s patience but the knowledge that she would be the one to walk out of the pub with him kept her from being too rash.

Still, when they were heading out the door into the cozy, crisp-aired street, she couldn’t resist a small flick of her wand by her thigh and a soft incantation under her breath.

A soprano cry went up. Wil whipped around, and she turned slowly. They both saw Amberle dripping head to toe in butterbeer that had apparently exploded out of her mug. She sputtered and blinked in surprise while her friends hurried to help her dry off. Eretria didn’t give Wil the chance to step forward and offer to help too, instead grabbing his hand and tugging him out the door.

(She tugged on his hand again later that night on the Quidditch pitch, pulling him in tight against her chest to catch his mouth with hers. It took him a minute, but then, he was kissing her back. Then, he was hers. Eretria smiled and kept smiling for the rest of the year as their relationship chaged into something more than friendship.)

five

Fifth year almost had her wishing for home. It was hard enough not having Wil for a partner in Potions anymore, even if he was her partner--in the library, on the pitch, in lust--everywhere else. It was even harder knowing that he was now partners—in Potions and in prefect patrol--with Amberle.

“Give her a chance,” he pleaded one afternoon in the library. He stood in front of their table--now maybe just her table--with earnest eyes, sighing when she pinched her face in vehement disagreement.

He walked away to another table where Amberle was sitting, books open and prefect badge gleaming. It shone as bright as Wil’s. She smiled when he sat down; Eretria glowered.

She didn’t want to be jealous, but the way Wil’s eyes lit up when he made Amberle laugh felt like a blade in her stomach every time she watched it happen from between bookshelves. She and him argued more than they actually talked now, and soon enough he stopped coming over to eat breakfast with her (she felt stupid and satisfied that it meant he was at least far from Amberle too).

It didn’t take long for their Quidditch pitch kisses and broom closet undressings to stop after that. She went back to studying alone, flying alone, being alone. It was hard, but she was good at it. After all, she had had plenty of practice.

Lonesomeness turned to boredom, which turned into scratching her name impulsively down on a Dueling Club sign-up sheet just before the winter holiday. She had nearly forgotten about it but then the castle was bustling again with new-year energy and she saw the posters pasted on the stone walls. A week later and with tense shoulders, she trickled into the designated practice room with other interested students.

Eretria easily trounced her first partner, a fellow fifth year Ravenclaw with blonde hair and a pointed nose. Three weeks and three partners later, she was facing off against sixth years and holding her own.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” the cocky ones would say, bowing mockingly towards her as if they didn’t see their friends land on their asses just last week from her spellwork.

A sixth-year Slytherin with dark eyes and crimson hair didn’t say a word, however, when she stepped up to dueling dais one night. Instead, she gave Eretria a brief once over. Her lips curled into a smile, and when she bowed, she never took her eyes off of her. As Eretria walked down to her end, a warm shiver went down her spine. Somehow, she knew the girl was still watching her.

She lost, but the way the girl winked at her afterwards made it seem like she hadn’t. The next week she lingered outside the door, waiting for Zora--a name learned through eavesdropping and sly questions--and was rewarded. More thrilling things came later: a forbidden walk on the castle ramparts, a demanding kiss with cold stones at her back and twinkling stars in the sky. Zora was sharp and heady, a biting laugh and a darkness that was the same tone as Eretria’s own.

Wil watched them from across the Great Hall with uneasy eyes that Eretria pretended not to see. It was none of his business now, not now that he was dating the Princess. So she pretended that wound was healed. She kissed Zora in broom closets (different ones than with Wil) and in stockrooms in the dungeons near the Slytherin Common Room (Zora is always too busy to bother coming up to the towers where she lived).

“Red isn’t your color,” Zora whispered into her ear one night as they lay on the observatory roof, staring up at the black sky.

Eretria ignored the tug of unease in her gut. “So?”

“So.” She propped herself up on her elbow, head resting in her palm. Her other hand came up, finger brushing against her collarbone. Eretria’s breath caught. “So it’d be a lot easier for us to be together if we lived a door down from each other.”

Eretria laughed, because she didn’t know what else to do. The laugh jostled her queasy stomach, rattled her ribcage in her aching chest. It would be easier, to belong to green and silver, but that word--easier--sounded like something else--cowardly--when it rolled off her tongue.

Their fire snuffed out as quickly as it had flared to life. Zora didn’t have time or patience or apparently even loyalty for her (she caught her kissing a brunette Ravenclaw seventh year in a Transfiguration classroom one spring-green afternoon).

They weren’t allowed to partner each other in Dueling Club anymore. Too many gashes and lashing words that didn’t just hit each other but bystanders as well.

It didn’t help that the ongoing rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin worsened. Eretria winced whenever she passed a student with an enlarged nose or purple-stained robes. It felt like her fault, especially since Zora seemed to revel in the discord. No one looked at Eretria accusingly, though, not even from her own house. Even in this, they didn’t see her (this time it might be a good thing, she realized).

She was leaving the Great Hall a week before the match for the Quidditch Cup where Gryffindor was playing Slytherin. As she stepped over the threshold, Amberle and a group of giggling Gryffindors swept in, sleeves rolled up and ties loosened. At first Eretria thought she was hearing the swish of the Princess’s hair, but the sound was too harsh, too mean. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a wand flicking. In a split second, her own wand was raised, and a loud crack sounded through the hall as a nasty hex bounced off her shield spell.

Silence fell. Eretria could hear her breaths coming harsh and short through her nose as she glared at the Slytherin girl--a friend of Zora’s--who looked put off that her attack on Amberle had failed.

“Finally showing some house spirit,” the girl sneered. “How noble.”

Eretria raised her wand in warning, and then she felt a presence at her back.

“Leave, before a professor notices and we all get points deducted,” Amberle ordered, her voice steel.

The Slytherin girl glared for a beat before turning on her heel and striding down the hallway, robes billowing with the swift motion.

“That was an impressive block,” Amberle said quietly. She remained behind even as her friends shifted--with cautious looks over their shoulders--into the Hall.

Eretria shrugged. “It’s instinct by now.”

“And you’re instinct was to protect me? I thought you didn’t care.”

“Nobody attacks my House.”

Amberle raised her eyebrows. “I wouldn’t have thought you cared about our House either.”

“Never had a reason to before.” She bit her lip, wondering if the responding tilt of Amberle’s head meant she knew she was lying.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?”

Eretria just stared at Amberle, feeling unsettled and a bit awed, because she was smiling. Just a little, a slight uplift to the right corner of her mouth. Still, it was a smile, and it was for her.

“I have to go,” she finally said.

Amberle nodded, the smile still there, and it was Eretria who had to break away, turning before her luck ran out.

Three days later, she crept up the stairs to her room after a late night of studying and flopped on her bed to find a lump pressing into her stomach. Pulling out the soft bundle, Eretria squinted in the dark. It was a small stuffed lion with a Gryffindor scarf around its neck. Eretria glanced over at Amberle’s sleeping form and allowed herself on small sighing smile before she curled up in her bed, the lion tucked under her chin.

Eretria walked up library aisle with determined steps, setting her books down on the table with purpose. Quickly, she sat in the chair, ignoring Amberle’s surprised expression and the poorly hid amusement in Wil’s eyes.

“I’ll help you both stop making those atrocious mistakes with your Sleeping Draught if one of you explains to me how in the hell we’re supposed to fill a whole thirty-six inches of scroll simply to explain the history of defensive charms.”

Wil snorted, and Amberle replied dryly, “Didn’t think you’d have a problem with word length. You’re usually so chatty.”

“Like you ever stop talking long enough to let anyone else speak,” Eretria snapped back, but her tone lacked its normal bite. “Honestly, no wonder you two are failing potions.”

“We’re not failing!” She protested vehemently.

Eretria wrinkled her nose in severe disagreement, and surprisingly, Amberle huffed out a reluctant laugh. Wil sighed heavily, an exasperated but fond sound she had missed in her months of stubborn solitude.

“We’re close to failing,” he admitted, and Amberle frowned. Eretria bit back a satisfied smile, because apparently the Princess wasn’t so perfect and it was something that seemed to bother her.

“I’m not going to do the work for you,” she warned.

“And I’m not going to write your essay for you,” Amerble retorted, lifting her chin.

Eretria’s lips twisted into her version of a smile. “Then we have a deal.”

At Platform 9 ¾, Wil pulled her into a hug, and Eretria buried her face in his chest. Her muscles relaxed under his friendly embrace; it felt a little bit like coming home. Wil hugged Amberle too, a tentative gesture to explore the new distance between them--apparently their flame had lit and burned fast too. Eretria was the second to leave, after Wil, and when it came time to part, Amberle cupped her elbow, softly, in goodbye.

“Have a good summer,” she said, and she seemed to mean it.

“You too,” Eretria offered, even giving her a little smile in return.

(The fact that it would be months until they saw other again gnawed at her, so she made her usual chauffeur wait at the curb until she saw Amberle embraced by her grandfather and Apparate with him, disappearing into thin air in the blink of an eye.)

six

“Stop staring,” Eretria warned as she hunched over her Defense Against the Dark Arts essay in the firelit Common Room.

“You’ve never been to a Gryffindor Quidditch match!” Amberle exclaimed, the same amount of disbelief in her voice even though it was her third time repeating the phrase.

“No, I haven’t. Now stop staring.”

“You’ve never been?”

Eretria leaned further towards her essay, quill scribbling furiously.

“Never?!”

Glaring up through her eyelashes, she kept writing as Amberle threw her hands up in the air.

“Unbelievable! You’re a sixth year!”

Inhaling deeply, Eretria rushed to finish her sentence before reluctantly setting her quill down. Apparently, they were going to have this conversation.

“Over five years you’ve been here, and you’ve never been to a House game. I feel like I’ve failed as a Gryffindor prefect. I have completely failed to inspire House spirit.”

“Ah yes. You are such a failure. Shame. Disgrace. Dishonor. Look at what you’ve brought on our House.”

“You’re the one that’s never been to a House game!” Amberle shot back, eyes dancing with humor.

Eretria shrugged. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about going to a game, and she had been to plenty of Hufflepuff games with Wil. He had always coaxed her into wearing his House colors, which somehow made it easier to go. Her stomach still tied itself in knots whenever she thought of doing the same for a Gryffindor game, as if her uncle would know if she dared flaunt her House colors in such a public space as a packed Quidditch stadium. “House spirit just isn’t my thing.”

“You cared enough about it last year to keep me from being hexed.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“It was just different.”

“Eretria.”

“Amberle.”

“Just admit it,” she said with a grin. “You care about your House.”

“Not enough to go to a Quidditch game.”

“Just one?”

Eretria glared warningly at her.

“Please.”

She was so earnest and excited that Eretria felt her resolve slipping. Really, it wouldn’t hurt to go to one game. So with a sigh, she relented, and Amberle cheered in delight.

When the day came, however, she walked down the dormitory stairs to the common room with trepidation. It was noisy with her Housemates in high spirits and the crackle of fireworks being set off from wands. She stayed at the edge of the room, just watching. While everyone else was a blur of red and gold, she was dressed in a black sweater and jeans.

“Eretria!” Amberle called, waving her over from across the room.

Taking in a deep breath, she pushed off the wall and jostled her way through the enthusiastic crowd. Surprisingly, when she slid into the group of girls, Catania smiled at her.

“Glad you are coming with us,” she said quietly. It wasn’t the first time they had spoken, but it was the first time Eretria felt she was being genuine.

“See? We don’t bite,” Amberle suddenly whispered in her ear teasingly.

Eretria rolled her eyes and pretended not to be a little touched that she had clearly asked her friends to make an effort to include her.

Her good mood didn’t last long, however, when one of the girls commented, “Where’s your House gear?”

“Don’t have any,” Eretria replied shortly. As everyone looked at her curiously, she folded her arms over her chest, a bit in defiance and a bit in defense.

“She’s new to this,” Amberle laughed. “We’ll have her decked out soon enough.”

Catania squeezed her arm in support, though the rest of the girls looked a bit less understanding. Suddenly Amberle unwound her scarf and placed it around Eretria’s neck, arranging it carefully in a loose loop. “There. That’s better.”

An earthy, floral scent wafted up from the material, and her cheeks warmed slightly as she took in a deeper breath of Amberle’s scent. Before she could say thanks, though, a sharp whistle went up near the portrait hole, and then the mass exodus from the Common Room started. Eretria was swept along with everyone else, and she couldn’t help feel her spirits lift and her heart lighten as a rallying song rose up around her. Her Housemates sung all the way down to the pitch, and by the time she were climbing into the stands, she couldn’t help but hum along too.

The game was really fun, she had to admit. The energy from the players and the crowd was more than contagious, and by the end, she was cheering along with the rest. Amberle jumped up and down in joy every time their House scored, and she seemed to have the need to clutch Eretria’s arm while she did so. Each time she bounced a little closer, and it made Eretria’s heart beat a little faster with every inch of space that disappeared between them.

Later that night, it was with something that felt like reluctance that Eretria pulled Amberle aside from the victory celebrations to return her scarf.

“Oh, keep it!” She insisted. “I have a dozen of them.”

Eretria fingered the soft, thick material between her fingers, considering it. Then she remembered the sad fate of her House gear after first year and thought the better of it. “Really, take it back. I shouldn’t.”

Amberle tilted her head in confusion. “Of course you can keep it, like I said--”

“I mean I can’t keep it.”

“Why?”

Eretria hesitated, but that only made the other girl narrow her gaze. “Why, Eretria?”

“Let’s just say any Gryffindor gear I bring home doesn’t survive the summer,” she muttered, looking away in embarrassment.

“What?”

“My family is staunchly, proudly Slytherin. I’m a bit of a black sheep to them and any red and gold things--other than my uniform--just ‘disappear’ while I’m home.”

Outrage flitted across Amberle’s face, taking Eretria aback. She had expected pity, not this surge of defensiveness.

“I don’t mean to insult your family, but that is horrid,” she said hotly. Then her expression softened into understanding. “That’s why you--”

Eretria cut her off, cheeks suddenly very warm. “Yeah. That’s why it took me a bit to come ‘round on House spirit.”

“You shouldn’t be shamed for being who you are,” she replied quietly. “And if anything, for you to endure that rejection over and over again just proves you really do belong here. I can’t think of many things more courageous than remaining true to who you are in the face of unfair and unwarranted judgment.”

Stunned, Eretria felt her throat grow thick with emotion. The sincerity in her friend’s voice was overwhelming and her hands squeezed the scarf to keep from pulling her into a tight hug of gratitude.

“Still,” she finally said. “I can’t keep this.”

“Sure you can,” Amberle disagreed with a grin. “Here, look.” She pulled out her wand and brandished it at the scarf. Black crept up and slowly replaced the red and gold stripes, turning it from Gryffindor gear to a generic Hogwarts scarf instead. After another quick flourish, Amberle reverted it to the original colors.

“Now why didn’t I think of that,” Eretria remarked, genuinely shocked she hadn’t come up with that solution.

Amberle laughed and then looped her arm through hers. “C’mon. They’re starting a new round of Exploding Snap, and I need a partner.”

As the semester marched on, Eretria found herself being pulled aside by Amberle for similar reasons--I need a partner or I don’t want to go alone or it’ll be more fun with we go together--more and more frequently. It was always by the hand, or the arm, and the touch started to drive her a little bit crazy. She tried not to read into it, but her heart was a traitor. She started imagining them together in other ways, and she had to look away when Amberle laughed because the bright, strong sound never failed to bring a flush to her cheeks.

Wil caught her looking one day and laughed. “Oh bollocks, I’m really sorry.”

She scowled at him.

“Really, I am,” he said with a grin. “Remember, I’ve been in your shoes, pining after her. It’s a hellish experience, but worth it in the end, when it works out.”

“Who says it’s a ‘when’?” Eretria snapped, frustrated that her doubt was so potent.

“Because,” Wil said softly. “She never looked at me the way she looks at you.”

Eretria waved her wand under the table, and Wil’s quill sprung to life to tickle him relentlessly under the nose in retaliation. He cried out in good-natured protest, but after the charm lost its power, she looked up from her books carefully and in a soft voice said, “Thanks.”

He nodded and then winked at her, earning him a labored sigh and admonishment to get back to his essay so she wouldn’t end up writing it for him.

She had planned on waiting to talk to Amberle about how she felt, really she had. The snow ruined her plans, though, falling softly around the two of them while they took a walk by the lake for a weekend study break. Flakes caught in Amberle’s hair and on her eyelashes, and then she stopped dead, tipping her head back and laughing as she tried to catch some on her tongue.

The pretty sight took Eretria’s breath away, and as soon as Amberle righted herself, still smiling, she stepped forward and kissed her. Her lips were cold and a bit chapped, and for a moment, unmoving. Disappointment and embarrassment flooded through Eretria, but when she pulled away, Amberle’s mouth chased hers. Her hand came up to cup her cheek, keeping her close, and Eretria leaned back in, relieved.

In the sparkling white wonderland around them, Eretria couldn’t hear anything other than the blood rushing in her own ears and Amberle’s soft sigh as the kiss deepened. She couldn’t feel her nose by the time she pulled away, but she didn’t care. She knew what Amberle tasted like now, and she knew it wasn’t something she was going to tire of anytime soon.

“Well,” Amberle breathed, smiling as their noses brushed, since neither of them could apparently bear to move further away. “That’s one way to keep warm out here.”

Eretria huffed, then laughed with sincerity and joy. “Always at your service, princess.”

“I’m looking forward to returning the favor,” the other girl murmured slyly. Then she leaned in again, and Eretria forgot about the snow, about their studies, about everything except for how Amberle’s body felt pressed against hers.

Amberle’s giggle echoed off the tile walls of the Prefects’ Bathroom. The water was just on the edge of uncomfortably hot against Eretria’s bare skin, rippling across her collarbones as she glided towards her girlfriend.

“Shh,” she warned. “We don’t want to get caught.”

“You? Worried about rules?” Amberle teased as she raised her head from where it was resting on the stone lip of the large pool.

“I have plans for us tonight,” Eretria explained as she continued advancing on the other girl. “Plans that would be ruined if we happened to be interrupted.”

“It’s late. No one’s around to hear.”

“Good,” Eretria murmured just before climbing into her girlfriend’s lap. Cupping the base of her neck, she angled her head up, leaned down, and kissed her wetly, deeply. Amberle let out a soft moan and arched into her, their curves slotting together perfectly like they always did. Eretria got so lost in their damp embrace that she didn’t hear the bathroom door open.

A sharp male cry startled them apart, and they broke away to see Wil standing there with his hands clapped over his eyes.

“Seriously?” He burst out, sounding equally embarrassed and incredulous.

Eretria looked back at Amberle, who was biting her lips so hard to try and not laugh from the absurdness of the situation. She didn’t have the same amount of control or sympathy for Wil, however, so she burst out laughing, throaty and full. It filled the room, ricocheting around until it drew laughter out of Amberle too.

Wil dropped his head in exasperation, eyes still covered, as the two of them lost it. Eretria gasped for breath as she dropped her forehead to Amberle’s shoulder, both their frames shaking with mirth.

“C’mon guys, I just want to wash,” Wil complained.

“Then go use the dorm baths,” Amberle replied. “This room is occupied.”

Wil sighed again before obliging. Eretria twisted her head towards Amberle, who leaned down and pecked her cheek quickly.

“I could’ve left,” she offered, knowing the status of prefect did actually mean something to Amberle, for all they joked about breaking rules.

“No way,” Amberle argued with an inviting smile. “You have plans, remember?”

“That I do,” she replied, heat rushing through her again in anticipation. She straightened and stared right into Amberle’s flaring eyes. “That I do.”

The year ended with them walking hand-in-hand off the Hogwarts Express onto Platform 9 ¾, where Amberle’s uncles stood waiting for them. Ander greeted her with a smile and a friendly handshake, while Arion was more reserved. Still, their love for their niece was apparent, and they welcomed her with openness.

“Glad you said yes?” Amberle asked playfully as they walked to a secluded area to Apparate back to the Elessedil manor.

Though Eretria had initially been wary of accepting the invitation to stay with Amberle’s family for the summer, in this moment, with their fingers intertwined and the acceptance of her relatives, she was very glad she said yes. When she said as much aloud with plain sincerity and gratitude, her girlfriend’s gaze softened. She leaned over and kissed her tenderly, making Eretria’s heart swell with happiness, and for the first time in a while, she was looking forward to the warm months of vacation ahead of her.

seven

Their last year at Hogwarts was like a dream, warm and hazy and happy as the summer days when her relationship with Amberle deepened into something lasting and permanent (love, love, love you was something they spoke into each other’s skin now). Fall days lying by the lake or studying (and then snogging) in the library turned into escaping school for a date at The Three Broomsticks and sneaking down to the kitchen on snowy nights to meet Wil for midnight butterbeers.

As the end of the year grew closer, however, Eretria grew more and more nervous for their N.E.W.T. exams. It frustrated her; exams had never intimidated her before but these assessments would be the final word on her worth as a witch. No matter how comfortable she felt in this world now, a part of her was still that seven-year-old girl who felt like she would never quite belong. Wil, though not as nervous as she, understood better than anyone. Though he was raised in the magical world, he too was a half-blood; he too felt the extra pressure that they had something more to prove, even as they told each other how ridiculous that was.

Still, though she knew she belonged and had never been more confident in that fact, the worry continued to eat at her. Amberle tried to assure her with kind words and soft kisses.

“You’re going to ace them,” she would whisper into the crook of their neck as they lay curled up in her four-poster, a tangle of limbs and sheets. “I know it.”

Eretria would sigh and muster up a smile, for Amberle’s sake, and somewhere along the way, she stopped smiling for Amberle and started smiling for herself instead.

The three of them fought the anxiety of looming exams and the melancholy from the impending close to their time at Hogwarts with intense schedules for studies and last-chance lists alike. Their days were busy, but they spent them together. It was all Eretria ever could have asked for, and though when test day came and she walked into the Great Hall nauseous and scared, she walked out side by side with Wil and Amberle, confident that no matter what happened she would always have the two of them.

It was bittersweet to disembark from the Hogwarts Express for the last time that June. When they hugged Wil goodbye with his mother smiling teary-eyed in the background, Eretria couldn’t help cry a little bit too. Amberle didn’t hold back, sobbing with a smile as she threw her arms around Wil.

“Amberle, I’m coming to visit you both in a month,” he chuckled when she wouldn’t let go.

“It’s different this time, though,” she sniffled. Eretria rubbed her back soothingly with an amused grin. “We won’t all be together again, not like this, not after this summer.”

“No, we won’t,” Wil admitted with his own little sad smile.

“It’ll be different,” Eretria admitted as Amberle finally let him go and leaned into her side for comfort. “But it will be good too.”

She laced their fingers together, squeezing her hand tightly in a promise.

“Yeah,” Amberle said quietly as they watched walk away with an arm tightly around his mother’s shoulders. She turned and looked up at Amberle, love and readiness in her eyes. “Yeah, it will be good too.”

Eretria quirked a smile at her, then leaned down and kissed her, looking forward to the bright future ahead for the both of them, together.