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Chapter Text

Empty words.

The usual trite jumble of nonsensical admonishments and warnings sprinkled with babbling digressions lacking any logic.

Of course, these digressions largely consisted of indulgent and inappropriate praise to himself. There was also no dearth of excessive flattery shamelessly paid to Slytherin House - not that such flattery particularly bothered Anne Smith.

Phineas Nigellus Black stood proudly behind his gilded lectern, the thick black moustache of his well-trimmed beard partly covering - without hiding it well enough - a smirk, indication that he was not in the least aware of how ridiculous and insubstantial his speech introducing the lavish banquet of the Sorting Ceremony sounded.

"That being said, as we do every year when the first of September arrives, we are about to celebrate a new beginning. Allow me to be the voice that opens the festivities!" The Headmaster paused bringing a gloved hand to his face to curl his thick moustache with an increasingly satisfied countenance.

The students seated at the long tables in the Great Hall, deluding themselves that the rambling opening speech had come to an end, sighed with such enthusiasm and such synchrony that the very stone walls of the castle seemed to have caught their breath.

"But first, let me make the last due recommendations."

A general grunt of disappointment could be heard, which Professor Weasley tried to stifle with a firm clap of her hands while casting her gaze to the Headmaster on her right as if wishing that her esteemed colleague actually had something sensible to add to his speech.

"Oh, Merlin! In the name of all that's good, make this torment come to an end!" Anne snorted impatiently.

She crossed her legs under the table and grabbed her long plait of ginger hair with both hands to begin fiddling with it absentmindedly as she struggled to tune out Headmaster Black's voice completely.

Vain and concerned with the smallest details, Anne had spent a lot of time in front of the mirror that day in preparation for the Sorting Ceremony. She had plaited her hair in a far fancier fashion than usual, tying it in a pretty silver ribbon and adorning the hairstyle with the enchanted rose that the sentient wand belonging to Ominis Gaunt had conjured up for her all those months prior.

As she twisted her plaited hair around her fingers with rapt focus that bordered on obsessive, her stomach growled rather noticeably and she immediately jumped to attention on the wooden bench, casting a fleeting glance to her right to make sure the obnoxious Grace Pinch-Smedley hadn’t noticed.

"Are you hungry by any chance, my love?" Softly asked a velvety voice to Anne's left.

"I'm so hungry that I'm tempted to bite my tongue clean off to swallow it."

"You are being melodramatic as usual."

Ominis slightly leaned his head towards hers; the expression painted on his handsome features was neutral, that of the perfectly bored student pretending to pay attention to the sermon of the day, but his blind blue eyes reflected love and complicity directed solely at Anne.

"Yet you love me precisely because I am melodramatic. Those were your very words - more or less. Or am I mistaken?"

"Ah, touché."

A laugh escaped from Anne's lips, too loud to go unnoticed in the silence that reigned in the Great Hall. She immediately brought her hands to her mouth, unable to completely suppress the silly giggle that insisted on rising from her throat, and she scooted along the wooden bench to get closer to Ominis and rest her head on his right shoulder. He held her close, wrapping his arm around her and bringing his thin lips to her left temple as they stretched into a playful smile. She laid her gaze on his face inches from her own, and she found herself languidly batting her eyelashes as she unconsciously stretched her neck up to get even closer to him - her breath mingling dangerously with his as if they were about to give in to the temptation and put on a show at the Slytherin table right in the middle of Phineas Nigellus Black's speech.

"You are starving for food while I am starving for the chance to kiss you, Anne."

"I can imagine, Gaunt."

The lovely ginger had the brilliant idea of playing with fire at that very moment; not content with the all too intimate familiarity she and Ominis were enjoying as they sat at the supper table, she placed her delicate hands on his, that remained resting innocently on her right hip, to slide it gently down to the hollow between her thigh and her crotch. As soon as the fingertips of the blind serpent grazed the rough grey fabric of her uniform skirt, his hand tightened possessively on her leg as a soft hum of appreciation escaped his lips.

During the summer holidays, opportunities for Anne and Ominis to be together in private had been few and far between. Not to mention the long months that had been spent living in self-doubt and repression after the attempted rape his vile brother had committed against her. Now that, at last, there could be the right circumstances for him to be spontaneously intimate with Anne again, Ominis found himself - in spite of himself - with the need and urgency to ask a question that was pushy to say the least for his standards.

"After supper, shall we retire to the Room of Requirement?" He whispered in the trembling voice typical of young lads whose thirst for love is blatant.

"...Ominis, I don't feel like leaving Anne alone on this particular evening. She is very anxious. It feels strange for her to come back to live here after losing a whole year of her life. Would you be bothered if we spent the evening in our common room tonight?"

"Of course not, my love. I understand that perfectly."

Ominis ran his left hand through his soft blond hair as if he hoped that that gesture would be enough to chase away the impure thoughts that had been piling up in his traitorous mind, then he placed it on the wooden table and sat down a little more composed without, however, moving the hand that was still resting on Anne's thigh an inch. He was about to add something - probably a witty jest to regain some composure and ease the sexual tension palpable in the air - when a muffled burp caught their attention.

Sebastian Sallow sat across from his best friend, deep dark eyes bloodshot with tiredness fixed on the empty plate in front of him while he braced his elbows on the table to hold his head as if in the throes of a devastating migraine. To his left, his sister was huffing softly, partly out of sheer boredom at having to postpone dinner until the Headmaster had finished spewing nonsense, and partly out of concern for her emaciated brother.

The day before had been the birthday of the Sallow twins, who had celebrated with their guests in the humble abode that had once belonged to Uncle Solomon.

Anne Smith had travelled to Hogsmeade for the occasion, and she had bought ice cream from Honeydukes instead of a classic birthday cake, given the summer heat. It had been a quiet and private day of celebration, spent mostly indoors challenging each other to board games such as wizard's chess and Exploding Snap; when evening came, Sebastian had convinced Ominis to accompany him on a lads-only evening adventure to ‘properly celebrate’. The two of them had thrown a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace on their way to one of Diagon Alley's most popular pubs, and what was supposed to be an outing for a pint or two had turned into a personal challenge for Sebastian between him and an entire barrel of mead, resulting in a massive hangover he was still bearing.

"You alright, mate?" Ominis asked, tilting his head slightly towards him whilst curving his thin lips downwards with the frown of someone who doesn't believe his friend to be all right at all.

"No. I might be sick at any moment."

"Sebastian, why don't you head to the Room of Requirement? You can use one of my potion stations and prepare a digestive concoction -"

"Too late for that. I should have thought of that earlier instead of spending the day rolling around in bed." Sebastian dryly interrupted the Keeper, speaking all in one breath as if he was trying not to let anything come out of his mouth while he was hurriedly getting up from the bench. "I must haste to the nearest loo and pray Merlin that I get there. Cheer on the new baby snakes for me, will you?"

He turned towards the exit of the Great Hall walking briskly as he kept a hand on his stomach, silently praying that his strong muscles - hardened from hours and hours spent flying on his broomstick - wouldn't betray him right then and there and manage to ‘hold’ everything in.

The other Slytherins watched him leave the Sorting Ceremony in bewilderment as several girls at the Ravenclaw table began whispering amongst themselves, wondering who on Earth the most desirable heartthrob in Hogwarts was supposed to be meeting with at that very moment.

"With the toilet." The fair ginger thought absentmindedly in response to the whispers that reached her ears as Phineas Nigellus Black continued to speak.

"Brother! Ah -" Anne Sallow turned to look at her brother with a desperate expression painted on her face.

As soon as the young witch realised that she was raising her voice in the middle of the Sorting Ceremony, she tried to compose herself by sitting up straight again as she swept her fringes of chestnut hair out of her eyes and cast an embarrassed glance at her friend sitting opposite her.

Anne Sallow looked even more upset and distraught than Anne Smith had been during the last Sorting Ceremony the year before. After all, while it was true that the Fifth Keeper had found herself crossing the threshold of that room at the age of fifteen after a miserable existence spent believing she was a squib, her friend now found herself in an even worse situation because, not only was she exposed to the prying eyes of onlookers, she found herself reconciling with a multitude of people who would ask her all sorts of questions about how she had spent the past year, constantly reopening a wound that had not yet been completely healed.

The girls exchanged a sad smile laden with mutual understanding, and just as the lovely ginger was about to whisper a word of comfort to her friend, the Headmaster's words suddenly caught her attention.

"And before we bring in our new arrivals, let us all give a warm welcome back to Mr Samuel Smith! Returning to attend his seventh year here at Hogwarts after spending the past academic year at Durmstrang Institute."

There was a resounding roar of excited cheering that rose from the Hufflepuff table where most of the girls looked as if they were about to faint at any moment from the intensity with which they were shouting their housemate's name. Simultaneously, drinks and food finally appeared on the long tables of the Great Hall, and several Gryffindors, including Natsai Onai and Garreth Weasley, turned towards the badgers still cheering their housemate to join the festivities and raise their goblets of pumpkin juice in a toast.

Anne Smith was petrified with horror.

She stood completely still for a few moments, sad dark eyes drained of all emotion staring at a tray of Cornish pasties without really seeing them.

Then, as if she were an automaton, she began to fill her plate and cut through the fragrant puff pastry of the dish with more force than was necessary, making the silver knife screech on the plate in a way that greatly displeased Ominis' sensitive ears.

The Heir of Slytherin had felt his sweet companion stiffen at his side and immediately stiffened in turn.

He said nothing for the time being because they were in a situation that was - to say the least - too crowded to deal with private matters, but Ominis hoped he would soon have the chance to talk to Anne and let her vent her feelings with him.

For the moment she seemed only interested in eating her Cornish pasties. She stood silently blowing on the warm filling of meat and vegetables while trying to think of something to help her calm the erratic beating of her heart. After all, it was easy to ignore the hubbub and detach herself from reality: Hufflepuff's table was far away from Slytherin's - on the opposite side of the Great Hall in fact - and it took very little to pretend not to notice the celebration that was taking place there encouraged by Headmaster Black himself, who kept enthusiastically clapping his hands from the top of the High Table.

Unfortunately, however, it wasn't as easy to ignore the memories of a strong fist smashed into her face, nor the ones of pulled hair, and those of hexes of all kinds cast upon her and the house-elves who looked after her.

Distracted by the awful reminiscences of her childhood, Anne bit her lip and a copious dot of blood immediately appeared on her soft, rosy mouth as she let out a pained yelp.

"Do you want us to leave?" Ominis immediately asked, dropping the cutlery on the table to turn towards her and gently caress her cheeks with strong, reassuring hands.

Just then the door to the Great Hall opened to let in the neat line of first-year students still waiting to be sorted into their House. Anne watched the faces of those children reflect many different emotions as they whispered their way towards the High Table: there were those who smiled joyfully, those who bit their lips anxiously and those who looked deeply focused. For a moment, watching the expressions painted on those young, innocent faces brought a smile to her face as well. She placed her pale hands on Ominis’ bigger ones still gently resting on her cheeks, and she vigorously shook her head as if to chase away the nasty thoughts - a long plait of ginger hair lashed the air behind her back like the tail of a nervous cat.

"No, my love. Let us stay. After all, the baby snakes about to be sorted into our House need to be encouraged, don't they?"

"It is pointless to sit by the window at this hour. The darkness of the night makes it impossible to discern what is moving in the depths. Tomorrow in the early morning will be the best opportunity to see merpeople."

At Ominis' words, the small group of first-year students huddled against the underwater windows of the Slytherin common room seemed to suddenly calm down after a good fifteen minutes spent shrieking as they squished their faces against the cold glass windows that separated them from the black waters of the Great Lake, ignoring the Prefects' calls for them to retreat to their respective dormitories. Little by little, the newest members of the snake pit began to move away from the windows and stream towards their chambers, eagerly promising each other that they would wake up very early in the morning to try and see merpeople.

Ominis listened to the chatter of the naïve first-year students, smiling contentedly like the rascal he was. He was leaning his back against the cold stone wall of the alcove that opened to the far right along the wall where the underwater windows were located; he had his legs slightly apart to hold Anne Smith close to him, hugging her gently with both arms at hip level as she leaned the weight of her slim body against his, hiding her face in his chest.

The whole time the Heir of Slytherin had been making fun of the first-year students, a playful smile had lit up his face, becoming more and more pronounced with every burst of naïve enthusiasm he managed to provoke in them. But what had really made his blind blue eyes sparkle with delight had been hearing the soft giggles of his sweet companion intent on burying her face against his chest at the vague sense of second-hand embarrassment she felt at witnessing the young arrivals being so easily fooled by her own lad.

"You're positively horrible." Anne murmured, absentmindedly fiddling with Ominis' green tie.

"Yet you are in love with me. And you will eventually be my Lady. Horrible or not, I'd say I've won on all counts."

Anne laughed heartily, muffling her giggles against Ominis' chest. He couldn't see her, but he would have bet good galleons that she was blushing, thinking to himself that she was just lovely.

But then again, that was a constant, fixed thought in Ominis' mind.

His feelings for Anne were so strong that they bordered on worship and, at times, he was greatly frightened by the intensity of his love for her - that consuming awareness that he belonged to her body and soul, the knowledge that he simultaneously had everything life could offer and potentially everything to lose.

The Slytherin common room was almost deserted, most students had already retired for the night after having over-eaten at the Sorting Ceremony.

Anne Sallow had walked to the girls' dormitory with hesitant steps shortly after descending into the dungeon, declaring that she was too tired to linger in the common room even though it was still early in the evening. When the Keeper had offered to go with her, she had declined with some embarrassment, saying that she understood perfectly well if she and Ominis preferred to be alone for a while to say goodnight to each other. Sebastian hadn't been seen since he had hurriedly left the Great Hall, and the gloomy Slytherin dungeons were almost entirely deserted except for the presence of five or six students still intent on chatting while sitting in front of the fireplace, quite far from the alcove overlooking the depths of the Black Lake where Ominis and Anne had settled.

They realised more or less at the same moment that the atmosphere had become intimate enough for them to talk freely about their private matters and indulge in romantic effusions without having to worry about causing a scandal, but she was the first to act, standing on her tiptoes to brush her rosy lips against his. Her touch was at the same time sweet and sensual, but Ominis couldn't quite enjoy it and capture her soft, alluring mouth in a proper kiss before she had already pulled back.

"Are you denying me a goodnight kiss too? Heavens, you really want me to lay in bed feeling miserable." He asked her in a velvety whisper as amused as it was eager.

"Um, I don't know if you deserve to be kissed tonight, given how naughty you've been with the first year students. Let me think."

The lovely ginger brought her left hand to her chin thoughtfully as she pretended to meticulously ponder what to do. Meanwhile, moving sensuously, she shifted her stance to ensure that her soft breasts and belly rubbed seductively against the sinewy muscles of his chest and stomach through their garments. Ominis bit his lower lip and slowly shook his head, laughing softly.

"And I'm the naughty one, Smith?"

Anne giggled anew as she hid her face in his chest again with the same innocent, embarrassed expression as a few moments before. She had stopped moving suggestively, and Ominis found himself partly sorry, partly relieved since they certainly couldn't have continued in that situation in case things got heated.

Without stopping smiling, the blind serpent brought his right hand to the chin of the fair ginger he was holding in his coils, gently seizing her right where her hand had rested mockingly a few moments before. He silently invited her to pull her face up from his chest, and then he followed the warmth of her breath to find her lips and kiss her with passion, unhurriedly.

The cold stone wall on which he leaned his back and the chill emanating from the imposing underwater window to their left had so far helped to dissipate the summer heat they felt during the day. Now the contrast between the cold environment and the warmth emanating from Anne's body had become so intense and pleasurable that Ominis found himself getting goose bumps on his neck as he continued to languidly move his lips against hers, wondering if he would feel those shivers on her skin too if only he could have touched her.

They stood like that for a few minutes, Anne in Ominis' arms as their tongues gently flicked together - her hands resting on his chest and his on either side of her head, fingers entwined in soft ginger hair neatly plaited.

Just as naturally as he had kissed her, the Heir of Slytherin slightly pulled back - blond eyebrows lightly furrowed as he chose the words to engage in what he knew was a rather unpleasant conversation.

"Would you like to talk about it? " He simply asked at last.

"Yes and no. My brother - well, he - he... He's an arsehole. There's not much left to say."

"I know. As in, I know him quite well. I'd say you summed up his character nicely."

"The thing is - well, I'm not ready to meet him again. Last year it was easy for me to forget he existed - like the rest of my family after all. But now he's here and - and I don't know what to expect. Or rather I know, but..."

Anne's words were lost in thin air. Her expressive dark eyes reflected a deep sadness that Ominis could sense even without being able to see her.

He knew that sadness intimately, just as she knew his own.

They had had many opportunities to talk about their past, they had shared with each other most of their deepest wounds without any shame, finding understanding and acceptance in equal measure. And as much as they thanked Merlin for bringing them together to end years of loneliness and repressed grief - as sweet as it had been to find each other, to discover each other and lay bare their vulnerability, they had also discovered a new kind of misery: the kind that comes when you share the pain of someone you love by making it your own. A bittersweet lesson in love that Anne and Ominis had learnt together.

During the long hours they had spent together inside the Undercroft when he had shared his knowledge of the Dark Arts with her, it had often happened that they had come across sensitive topics that had triggered bad memories. It had been an opportunity to explore those memories together, and they had relived them through Isidora Morganach's Pensive. Anne had seen with her eyes the decadent wickedness of the Gaunts and Ominis' nightmarish childhood, while he had helplessly witnessed the discrimination and hatred reserved for squibs of high lineage.

And he remembered vividly how Lord Smith had tortured his eleven-year-old daughter with the Cruciatus Curse for not receiving her admission letter to Hogwarts, just as he remembered her elder brother watching the scene with cold indifference as he asked his father if he could take part in the torture, concerned only to be praised by him while cruelly ignoring the desperate cries of his sister.

A surge of anger suddenly ran through the body of the Heir of Slytherin, causing him to tremble uncontrollably.

He suppressed the trembling and the overwhelming emotion that threatened to eat him away with a deep breath. Then, he gently took her left hand in his and brought it to his mouth to kiss it. His lips lingered for a moment on her engagement ring, the silver snake with the Gaunt seal that he himself had commissioned for her - feminine and elegant compared to the one he wore.

"Anne, I wish I could tell you that I am your prince charming and that one day I will whisk you far away from here. I wish I could tell you that you can forget about your family forever, but I won't because that would be a lie. And I never lie." He drew another deep breath and leaned his forehead against hers. "The truth is that when you marry me you will become part of a ruthless, rotten, cruel family - you will marry into Dark Wizards and Muggle torturers. And although we will build a future together - far from them, different from theirs - we shall never escape their yoke, not entirely. Because we are what we are, Anne: filthy rich purebloods of high lineage. And a highborn can only escape their title so far."

"We could always run away."

"But is that what you really want? To run away to another continent and never return? Could you forsake your mission as Keeper and what lies dormant within Hogwarts' foundations beneath the Map Chamber?"

Anne's rosy lips curved downwards into a sad expression as she leaned her head against Ominis' chest once again, seeking his protection.

"No, I couldn't."

There was a moment of silence. His tall, sturdy physique was the anchor she was clinging to in order to chase away nasty thoughts, focusing intently on the beating of his heart.

"There are many things I cannot promise you, my love." Ominis continued. "But the one thing I can promise you is this: I will always protect you. I'll protect you at all costs. From my family, from yours. And I swear I won't let your arsehole brother bully you or cause you harm. I can be very disagreeable if I want to."

"I know." Anne murmured. "I know you can be frightening. You've frightened me too in the past, more than once. And I've seen some ugly shite in my life."

They both laughed - those bitter, biting laughs at the blackest humour that more often than not they were the only ones to get.

They stood alone in the dungeons. The Slytherin common room was now completely deserted, and they shared one last tender kiss before heading hand in hand towards their dormitories.

When Anne Smith crossed the threshold of the room designated for sixth year girls, she noticed that all of her housemates were already asleep.

All except one.

Anne Sallow's four-poster bed was neatly made and utterly empty.

With soft steps, making as little noise as possible so as not to wake anyone up, the lovely ginger headed for the girls' lavatory, where she found her friend slowly brushing her hair while staring at her reflection in the mirror as if she were in a trance.

"Ah, there you are! For a moment I thought you had snuck out of the dungeon defying the Prefects. Do you need help?"

"Ah, no. They're already combed actually. I was - I was just stalling."

"I'm sorry, I lingered on talking to Ominis -"

Anne Sallow turned sharply to her friend, blushing with embarrassment as she forcefully wrung her hairbrush in her hands.

"Oh, no, Anne! Goodness! It's fine! Truly! I understand well enough - I mean, I - I wish I could do the same - Ah! Oh, Merlin." She brought a hand to her face to hide her mortified expression.

With a smile that was just as awkward, Anne Smith stepped to the sink, being kind enough to change the subject so as not to dwell on the unrequited feelings the other young lady still had for her betrothed.

"Since you have taken refuge inside the lavatory, I take it that the other girls have been... awful?"

"Grace asked me if my uncle died of the same malady that afflicted me and whether I was the one who transmitted it to him. She also voiced her concern at the idea of sleeping in the same room with me, in case I was still contagious."

A chilling silence fell in the girls' lavatory before the Keeper could stomach that remark, opting to try and distract her friend by spewing some vulgar bollocks in the hope that it would make her laugh.

"No matter what Grace says, she is a spoiled whore. I mean, she shagged Leander Prewett last year. If she didn't do it for some galleons, well, she got sorted into the wrong House because that takes a lot of courage."

Anne Sallow burst out laughing with delight. Anne Smith breathed a sigh of relief.

Then she spoke in a soft whisper, seeking the gaze of her friend in the reflection of the mirror.

"Since you've already combed your hair, would you mind helping me out before we go to bed?"

"Oh, I would love to!"

With sincere joy painted on her face, Anne Sallow untied the silver ribbon that held the plait of the fair ginger together to vigorously brush her hair.

"You wore such a lovely coiffure today!"

"I'll plait your hair exactly like mine tomorrow if you fancy -"

"No! Goodness!" She replied far too quickly, swiftly running a hand through her long chestnut hair puffed up by too many brush strokes. "I just don't want to draw any more attention to myself than I have to. A simple chignon will do just fine... Next thing you know, they'll be gossiping about my look change."

Again a silence laden with sadness fell over the room. Anne Sallow's brush strokes became slower - her fingers caressing the soft ginger tresses in her hands like a child stroking a stuffed animal to soothe themselves after crying.

"I thought I'd be happy, you know?" She murmured with an edge to her voice. "While I was confined to Uncle Solomon's house, all I wanted was to come back to Hogwarts - to my normal life. I never imagined it could be so difficult."

A pale hand reached for Anne Sallow's still clinging to the Keeper's hair. The Slytherin girls looked deeply into each other's eyes through the mirror. Then, slowly, they both smiled.

"Anne, what I always tell myself is that mouths are like arse holes: everyone has them and sometimes they pour out shite."

Again Anne Sallow laughed heartily, and Anne Smith waited a moment before continuing.

"People will talk, they will spew all kinds of nonsense, and you will try not to give a damn. It will be hard at first. Then some other gossip will come along to talk about, and no one will bother you anymore. It'll be all right, Anne. We'll be all right, and we'll have a great time together! That is a promise."

It was five o'clock in the morning when Anne Smith opened her eyes without being able to close them again.

She lay in bed as still as a marble statue - inky-black irises fixed on the cold stone ceiling of the dungeon as she tried to banish from her mind a nagging sense of anguish. The Inner Eye hadn't granted her any Visions while she slept, yet she could feel on her skin the familiar tingling sensation that comes with adrenalin rising in anticipation of a duel or a deadly fight.

Was it an omen of doom perhaps? Or perhaps just a mere jest on the part of her frayed nerves?

Be that as it may, Anne could no longer fall back asleep and she waited patiently for her roommates to wake up in turn to begin getting ready for the day.

Imelda Reyes was the first to get out of bed and - with her usual lack of finesse - she immediately began to make such a racket that soon all the pythonesses in the room were forced to leave their dream world. The captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team was quick to express the annoyance she felt at sharing a bedroom with two girls bearing the same name, going so far as to scold Anne Sallow and Anne Smith for giving her a headache every time they turned in unison at hearing their name called.

"You can always call me Troll Slayer or, say, Slytherin Prodigy, Imelda." The Keeper replied while sitting in her bed with an expression that was at once amused and bored.

"Hmm, I think I'll stick with calling you disgustingly lovely ginger. That's what you are after all, Smith."

"I'd rather be called Troll Slayer."

"I bet.''

The girls glanced at each other with complicity, silently letting the other know that they had been missed - something they would obviously never admit aloud, not even if tortured.

Then, Imelda ‘gracefully’ scratched her armpits, complaining that she had an irritating regrowth of hair, and swallowing a potion pulled out of her beauty case shortly afterwards to make it disappear in an instant. Anne Smith asked her if she could take a sip or two of her potion, as she hadn't had time to brew her own during the summer holidays; Imelda had initially seemed unwilling to share, but eventually relented in the name of teammate solidarity.

"This and more for my keeper! Just as long as you manage to find time to practice on the Quidditch pitch when you're not busy shagging with Lord Gaunt." Was the precise, refined remark she made.

When the lovely ginger was ready to leave the girls' dormitory, she took Anne Sallow by the arm to give her some encouragement as they made their way to the common room.

The lads were already waiting for them, standing in front of the enchanted staircase designed to keep any troublesome young men out of the ladies' chambers.

After giving his fiancée a chaste kiss on the lips to wish her a good morning, Ominis offered his arm to Anne Sallow without delay, bursting into good-natured laughter when she hesitated to take it.

"What's the matter, my friend? Don't you remember that we have a mission to accomplish before breakfast? First year students have to learn what it means to be deceptive Slytherins, they are about to be taught an important lesson. Come on, we have a tradition to uphold!"

The Keeper stood back a few steps as she watched Ominis being guided towards the underwater windows of the common room by his dear friend with a mixture of tenderness and unease. She was about to walk in turn towards the screaming throng of first-year students when Sebastian gently placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

The Slytherin heartthrob looked much better than the night before and his attractive lips were stretched into a wide smile that conveyed such happiness as to be contagious.

"I can't believe to see her finally here." He said in a voice broken with emotion.

"I'm happy as well, Sebastian. It's all a bit strange for her now, but I'm sure in a short while she'll feel at home again."

"Red, on that note, can we speak for a moment?"

Sebastian's demeanour had suddenly changed, though not noticeably - Anne had only been able to sense it because she knew him like the back of her hand. He shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other, then he made a wide gesture with his right arm to point to the large couch in front of the fireplace, currently vacant. He walked stiff as a rod, his tall, sturdy physique seemed to tremble slightly if one stopped to observe him carefully, and that was exactly what Anne was doing with her gaze fixed on his broad shoulders as she followed him to take her place beside him on the sofa.

"What is it, Sebastian?" She asked him as they made themselves comfortable on the soft velvet cushions.

"About my sister - well, I'm quite worried about her but I don't want to smother her with my attention. I thought she would be happy to return to her normal life, instead she is troubled and sad. I never imagined it could be so difficult."

Anne smiled instinctively upon hearing Sebastian use the exact same words his twin had used to describe her situation.

"Unfortunately, people are curious and insensitive. For a while Anne's return will be a topic on everyone's lips - I'm afraid it's inevitable. "

"How did it go yesterday with the other girls? Were they pestering her with all sorts of questions? Ah, know that - that - well, that I really appreciate you staying with her instead of… spending the evening with Ominis."

Anne's cheeks instantly turned redder than her hair with which she began to fiddle nervously as she tried to put aside her embarrassment. Embarrassment that she inevitably continued to feel whenever Sebastian - who in addition to being her best friend had been her very first suitor - referred to her intimacy with Ominis, or rather, his best friend who had fallen in love, reciprocated, with the very girl to whom the Slytherin heartthrob had given his heart forever.

"Never mind that, Sebastian." She stammered, trying to compose herself. "Grace made a rather harsh remark last night. I tried not to mind it when Anne told me about it, but it was most unsavoury."

"What did she say?!"

"It doesn't matter, Sebastian. It only hurts us to give rise to gossip - it hurts all of us, not just your sister. Which is why the sooner we start ignoring them the better."

Sebastian looked Anne straight in the face, fixing his deep dark eyes veiled with apprehension in hers as the light from the crackling fire in front of them illuminated their features, giving their skin an orange glow.

"I don't give a shite about gossip. But my sister is very fragile at the moment. She cares about the gossip and I don't want her to go back to suffering again just when she's about to come back to life."

Now Sebastian was nervously wringing his hands as his right foot tapped on the stone floor hysterically, out of control. And Anne saw before her again the vulnerable boy bursting with feelings too intense for him to handle, the one she had seen inside Feldcroft's dreaded catacombs.

Her delicate hands rested on his to stop their neurotic shaking, and her fingers traced his palms, lingering on the calluses that betrayed his humble origins and the days spent in the fields of Feldcroft working the land with the loathsome Uncle Solomon. Sebastian exhaled a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting Anne lovingly squeeze his hands in hers.

"Sebastian, I promise you that I will remain close to Anne throughout this delicate time. I will be by her side and make sure she is well and happy."

"Would you really do that, red? You've already done so much for us and -"

"Sebatian, you talk such nonsense! Of course I will! You know Anne is like a sister to me too."

"I know, red. I know..."

Sebastian opened his eyes again but aimed his gaze towards the floor as if he didn't have the courage to look Anne in the eye. After a moment, he finally turned back to look at her and she gave him a sincere, warm smile - enticing rosy lips that seemed to silently speak to tell him he could trust her.

"Thank you, red." He murmured, smiling back. "I wish I could be the one to support Anne. I wish she would confide in me like she did when we were younger. But we are of an age now where we are no longer comfortable talking to each other about certain things. She needs a female friend in her life. A real friend she can rely on."

"I will be there for her in this time of struggle, Sebastian. I promise. I swear it to you."

He parted his lips as if he was about to add something else, but he was brutally interrupted by a monotone voice that sounded terribly bored and spoke behind their backs.

"What have we here?" Violet McDowell asked with the cruel grin of someone dying with envy. "Say, that's a lovely ring you're wearing, Smith. Is that diamond dust? Lord Gaunt spared no expense for his future Lady, I see."

She pointed to Anne's engagement ring only to emphasise the fact that she and Sebastian were holding hands, as if to hint that their gesture might be misunderstood by someone ready to spread nasty gossip around. Someone like her.

Sebastian immediately let go of Anne’s hands as if he suddenly realised they were on fire, then he stood up and turned to Violet menacingly, as if he wanted to intimidate her with his considerable height.

"We were just about to go for breakfast in the Great Hall, if you would like to join us Violet." He told her politely while maintaining a hostile expression plastered on his face, terribly annoyed at having to interrupt a serious conversation like that.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to be in the way, Sebastian. You and Smith seemed... rather taken. Say hello to Gaunt for me, darling."

Anne glowered at Violet, who turned her back on her to head arse-first towards the front steps of the Slytherin common room.

"Bollocks. One always has to watch their step, there's always someone ready to spread rumours and slander! Alas, it's a cinch to pass for a harlot." She thought snorting.

"I bet you'll get awfully hungry in a while. That'll teach you to eat your breakfast next time. You've barely had a glass of orange juice!"

Ominis was shaking his head with such vehemence that he had managed to dishevel his soft blond hair, otherwise always neatly styled. He was walking hand in hand with Anne towards the North Hall, chastising her for not eating a proper breakfast in view of the draining day ahead of them.

"I already told you! I have to keep myself light for my grand debut at Crossed Wands! Not a chance I'm letting my guard down today - during the opening matches of the academic year."

Ominis snorted curtly.

"Snort all you want! Duelling on a full stomach is for amateurs."

"You would have had plenty of time to digest... "

"Whatever, I'll make it up at supper and eat for two!"

"You are childish, Smith."

"You're bloody vexing, Gaunt."

Behind them, the Sallow twins burst out laughing in unison. Sebastian elbowed his sister lightly, pointing at the pair in front of them with a nod.

"They banter like a couple that's been married for at least twenty years, don't they, sister?"

"They're so sweet!" She replied vaguely embarrassed. "They really do look like a long married couple."

The lovely ginger rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed.

"Because Ominis is old inside." She said with mock condescension as she turned towards her sweetheart - the love that was reflected in her ink-black irises so intense that it was blatant to anyone who laid eyes on her face.

Ominis laughed softly and let go of her hand to embrace her, wrapping his right arm around her waist. Then, still pointing his faithful sentient wand in front of him, he lowered his head to nuzzle her hair and speak to her in a velvety whisper intended only for her ears.

"I will remember your impudence once we are alone in your chambers. We'll see if you'll act cheeky then, witty girl."

At Ominis' words, the mighty Troll Slayer - despite her excellent eyesight - stumbled from excitement, risking falling ruinously in the middle of the Transfiguration Courtyard. Fortunately, he caught her, letting out another amused laugh that was soon joined by her feminine, melodic one.

Suddenly, under the porch to their right, the heavy wooden door to the Transfiguration Classroom opened, and the voices of Headmaster Black and Deputy Headmistress Weasley echoed loud and clear in the sunny courtyard as they spoke excitedly. They walked under the porch as if they, too, were on their way to the North Hall, and when they reached the door connecting the two wings of the castle, they turned to their left, noticing the small group of Slytherins who were crossing the Transfiguration Courtyard at a lazy pace.

Phineas Nigellus Black's face lit up immediately when he spotted Ominis, and he took a step towards him, addressing him as a blood uncle might have done - without the slightest regard for titles or etiquette.

"Ah! Ominis, my boy! I see you're holding on tight to your future Lady. And how can I blame you, lad? Ah, if only your father could see you this instant, how proud you would make him." He said, curling the thick moustache that was partly hiding his usual smirk.

Ominis did not reply, merely slumped his shoulders. Anne, who was still clinging to his side, felt every muscle in his body stiffen like those of a dog that is suddenly being bothered while trying to rest in its kennel.

"My love, I will join you as soon as I can. I suppose I must stay a moment with Headmaster Black -"

"Oh no, Mr Gaunt: we were actually heading for Professor Binns' classroom just to steal Miss Smith away for a moment and talk to her."

"You don't mind if we rob you of your fair maiden for a few minutes, do you, Ominis?"

Phineas Nigellus Black laughed without ceasing to twirl his moustache, then he ran a hand through his powdered black curls as if he was more preoccupied with looking handsome within the castle walls than actually carrying out his duties as Headmaster. Anne Smith turned sharply towards Professor Weasley pointing an index finger at her own chest as if to make sure she was indeed the object of their interest.

"How the fuck did I already get in trouble? The academic year has yet to begin!" She thought, swallowing nervously.

Sebastian walked past her leading his sister on his arm, and he winked at her, murmuring, "Don't get a detention without me, red." as he made his way to the entrance of the North Hall.

Ominis hesitated for a moment, imperceptibly leaning his head towards Anne as if trying to understand her state of mind by listening to the cadence of her breathing - blind blue eyes veiled with concern otherwise perfectly masked by the neutral expression on his face.

"I'll join you in class, my love." She told him, rising on her tiptoes to dare giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before turning to the professors, devoting her full attention to them.

Ominis reluctantly walked towards the North Hall letting his wand guide him while Professor Weasley sighed deeply as she made an amused observation about how nice it was to see young students happily in love.

"But now to us, Miss Smith!" She said enthusiastically. "The Headmaster and I wanted to speak to you about the Field Guide, which if I'm not mistaken should still be in your possession -"

"Ah, yes. Professor, forgive me for not returning it at the end of last academic year. I will make sure to return it to the Library today."

"Actually, Miss Smith, that's not what this is about." Headmaster Black interjected. "Last year you achieved excellent grades in all of your classes, and that was not to be taken for granted as you found yourself catching up on four years of missed studies. The Field Guide helped you to get up to speed, and - being a very sophisticated tool - it was not a given that you would learn to use it to its full potential. But my esteemed colleague told me that you did an impressive job with our enchanted encyclopaedia."

Professor Weasley stretched her wrinkled lips into a wide, welcoming smile as she looked at Anne with almost maternal pride.

"Aye. You did a great job catching up on your lessons last year. And because of that, you are the best candidate to assist the students who need to catch up during this academic year."

"Are we talking about tutoring?"

"That's right, Miss Smith." Headmaster Black spoke up as if he was genuinely pleased with what he was about to say. "We would like to ask you to volunteer your time to privately tutor students who need to catch up this year!"

Professor Weasley put her hands on her fat hips and nodded vigorously.

"This is how it is normally done. Usually it is the students themselves who help those who need to catch up with their studies. For instance, your friend, Miss Onai, was paired with Mr Clopton during her fourth year here at Hogwarts in order to help her settle in. In your case, given the considerable amount of work you needed to do in order to catch up with the other students, Professor Fig was chosen as your tutor - may Merlin preserve him!"

Anne smiled sadly, starting to fiddle hysterically with her long ginger hair as she tried not to dwell on memories of her special tutoring in London with her dearest professor.

"Yes, Miss Onai told me about her tutoring with Mr Clopton." She said avoiding further reference to Professor Fig. "You meant to ask me to tutor Miss Sallow, yes?" She then asked, brightening up suddenly.

"Yes, we would like you to tutor Miss Anne Sallow and Mr Samuel Smith -"

When Headmaster Black pronounced the name of her brother, Anne's blood froze in her veins despite the warm rays of the sun caressing her as the birdsong filled the air all around. Without so much as stopping to think, she spoke instinctively, unconsciously raising her voice.

"Why?!"

"What do you mean why?" Asked the Headmaster as if he were talking to a halfwit. "Miss Sallow lost her fifth year due to poor health -"

"I'm not talking about Miss Anne Sallow!" Anne interjected while still raising her voice, addressing the professors with self-assurance and defiance which she could only afford to show as Keeper. "Why should I be in charge of tutoring my - Mr Samuel Smith?! Is he not to catch up with the sixth year? Well, until proven otherwise I still have to attend the sixth year!"

"Miss Smith, I ask you to tone it down, otherwise I will be forced to take points from Slytherin." Admonished Professor Weasley before adding. "We only have one Field Guide at our disposal, and you happen to have learnt to use it extremely well. We are sure you could help Mr Smith study the topics he needs to align on simply by showing him how to use the Field Guide effectively. Since Anne Sallow will also need the Field Guide, and since our resources are limited with only one available, the ideal would be to organise a study group where the three of you come together after class hours for tutoring."

The Deputy Headmistress' words came distant and muffled to Anne's ears; her vision suddenly blurred as if she were about to faint on the lush grass of the Transfiguration Courtyard while her expressive dark eyes filled with tears.

"I cannot do this." She thought as a rush of nausea rose from her stomach to the back of her throat at the idea of being locked in a classroom forced to breathe the same air as her hated brother.

Private tutoring meant devoting precious hours of her free time to an insensitive brute and helping him catch up on his studies. How could she even think of sitting in the Library next to a person who had helped make her childhood a living hell? How could she even speak civilly to him when she remembered vividly every insult, every shove, every cruel mockery she had suffered at his hands?

"Of course you can refuse, Miss Smith, if you don't feel up to the task." Professor Weasley said, vaguely embarrassed at interrupting a heavy silence that Anne had protracted without even realising it. "Certainly, I would personally regret it very much because your knowledge of the Field Guide is a great asset in this situation. However, you can hand it back to us so that we can assign it to a seventh-year student who will gladly take care of Miss Sallow and Mr Smith. "

At those words Anne felt her breath catch again.

Anne Sallow's tutoring was linked to her brother's even though the two of them belonged to different academic years: avoiding her childhood tormentor also meant refusing to help her dear friend - a newfound sister to whom she had bestowed part of her own being. She could not back down. She could not leave Anne Sallow alone at such a difficult time as the one she was facing. She had promised Sebastian that very morning - she had sworn she would be there for her during her readjustment back into Hogwarts and that she would make sure she was happy. And what could be better than being her assigned tutor? What could be better than to be the anchor for her education for both her and the teachers who expected her to perform well?

"Besides, my brother is an arsehole. If I refuse to be their tutor, someone else will do it, but Anne would still be forced to spend time with Samuel. I can't leave her alone..."

"Miss Smith?" Professor Weasley asked, now blatantly embarrassed by the Keeper's silence.

"I shall do it. I will tutor both of them."

"Excellent, Miss Smith!" Phineas Nigellus Black exclaimed enthusiastically as his creepy, somewhat idiotic smile peeked out from under his moustache. "Your father will be very pleased to know you are so well disposed towards your brother. Good - I'd say that's it. Now we'll let you run off to class."

"I will expect you in my study tomorrow morning to work out the details of the tutoring which we will then communicate to the other two students, Miss Smith." Professor Weasley concluded with a sincere smile before walking away from the garden alongside Headmaster Black.

For a moment Anne stood impaled in the centre of the Transfiguration Courtyard.

Behind her, water gushed from the fountain and a pleasant summer breeze barely moved the branches of the large tree to her left. Classes were about to begin and no students were in sight all around her.

Her thin body was shaken by strong tremors, and although she was fit and athletic, at that moment she felt as small and puny as a crumpled piece of parchment thrown on a stone floor.

Suddenly she shook her head and straightened her back. "Stop it, Anne." She thought to herself for encouragement. "At the end of the day this is a good opportunity, isn't it? You'll be helping a friend - that's what counts. Who cares about your brother!"

She was about to resume her walk towards the North Hall when someone grabbed her Slytherin robes, tugging them gently to get her attention. After a moment's hesitation, Anne turned around, finding herself face to face with Lenora Everleigh; the plump Hufflepuff was red in the face and looked transfixed - her messy bun of brown hair added to her unkempt countenance even more than usual.

"Hello, Lenora. Do you - do you need something? I'm quite in a hurry, I'm late for the start of Professor Binns' lecture."

"Hi, Anne! Sorry I took the liberty of stopping you but - uh, I - I..."

"Yes?"

Lenora had big dark eyes that often reflected a certain lack of confidence as if she often felt uncomfortable or inferior to others. At that moment she was staring intently at Anne as if desperately wanting to confide something private to her, despite the fact that they were not particularly close.

"Well, I didn't realise you were Samuel's sister! I mean - Mr Smith..."

The fair ginger stiffened instantly, turned hostile by the mention of her brother like a cat ready to scratch after being petted against the grain.

"We bear the same fucking family name, Lenora. Yes, he is my brother." She replied through gritted teeth.

"Oh, but Smith is such a common family name - and - and besides, you weren't sorted into Hufflepuff so... I didn't think..."

Anne snorted dramatically, trying to hide her vulnerability from the other girl as she silently begged Merlin to calm her heartbeats.

"Get to the point, Lenora. I'm running late for class."

"Yes, of course, sorry! It's just that his return has sent the entire Hufflepuff House into a frenzy! All the girls are competing to get his attention - and - and I fancy him too! Couldn't you -"

"No!" The lovely ginger replied dryly. "Whatever concerns my brother, it doesn't concern me in the slightest. That's all you need to know. Good day, Lenora."

Without giving poor Lenora a chance to retort, Anne turned towards the entrance of the North Hall and began to run towards her destination without looking back.

As soon as the Keeper stepped into Professor Binns' classroom, her attractive lips distorted into a disgusted sneer upon noticing that the title of the day's lesson had already been written on the blackboard: History of Wandlore. A topic that was inherently most interesting, were it not that the soporific, monotonous voice of the ghostly teacher managed to render any lesson boring to the point of making his students wish they had never been born. Anne couldn't stand Professor Binns' lectures at all, which was very unfortunate indeed, since History of Magic greatly fascinated her.

Ominis and Sebastian had already taken their seats next to each other in the last row of the central aisle; they did not save a seat for her as if they had not expected to be joined by her in time for the start of the lecture. In the front row of the left aisle, Anne Sallow sat with Amit Thakkar, chatting amiably with him as she pointed to the blackboard showing the day's lesson.

"Looks like we arrived just in time for the start of class, my friend. And - lo and behold - two open seats that look like they were made just for us!"

Natty had appeared on the threshold of the dusty classroom, the tall, athletic body of the dark-skinned lioness standing out against the pale, shorter physique of her best friend.

"Natty! What joy!" Anne exclaimed, raising her voice in excitement and immediately wincing in embarrassment as she realised she had drawn the attention of the entire class. "Last night there was no opportunity to greet each other in the Great Hall." She added as she sat down in the empty desk in the last row of the right aisle.

"That means we will now use these two hours together to catch up on lost chatter! Unless you want to pay attention to Professor Binns?"

The young ladies burst out laughing, covering their mouths with their hands to try not to get attention to themselves, suddenly stopping when someone cleared their throat in reproach from the second row of their aisle.

Everett Clopton was turned towards them and stared incredulously at Natty, pointing to the empty seat next to him - his long black curls falling over his frowning forehead giving him the perfect air of a brooding dandy. The Gryffindor girl stared back at her sweetheart while waving no with her finger before linking arms with Anne, clearly stating that she preferred to sit next to her friend. Everett looked outraged and gasped causing the two girls sitting several desks behind him to giggle in amusement.

Just as Professor Binns was about to phlegmatically take the floor, Samantha Dale came bustling into the classroom, taking advantage of the vacant seat next to her housemate to sit down quickly so as not to interfere with the lecture.

The Ravenclaw boy cast one last disappointed glance towards his lovely lioness before greeting the newcomer, making room for her in the seat he had originally reserved for his girl.

"I certainly don't want to become one of those young witches who put their suitor before their friends." Natty proudly declared, turning to Anne to wink at her with those stunning dark eyes of hers always sparkling with curiosity and glee.

"Well said." Whispered the Slytherin girl in reply. "Besides, if there's one thing I've learnt about lads, it's that they need to be kept on their toes a bit. Otherwise they relax." She added, pointing to her own lad sitting to their left with his elbows firmly planted on his desk to hold his head.

The gaze of the Heir of Slytherin was blank - as usual - and his expression perfectly neutral: it would have been impossible to tell that he had already fallen asleep had it not been for his light snoring.

The two friends burst out laughing softly once again, and they did not stop for a single moment for the duration of the lesson. They chatted and exchanged innocent gossip hardly giving each other time to catch their breath as if they hadn't spent the entire summer constantly exchanging letters - absent-mindedly scribbling notes in the margins of their tomes from time to time.

The few times they actually paid attention to the lecture were when Sebastian and Leander Prewett raised their hands to answer Professor Binns' - almost rhetorical - questions, competing with each other passively-aggressively to see who could earn the most points for their House during the first lecture of the year. The Gryffindor boy certainly did not shine for intelligence and ended up saying unthinkable nonsense every time he tried to answer a question correctly; Sebastian was objectively a brilliant student and if he did intervene during the course of a lesson he always did so speaking to the point, but the desire to prove himself superior to Leander made him unnecessarily pompous, redundant, and consequently ridiculous in every statement he made that morning, and the Keeper found herself reflecting on the fact that it was definitely better to watch a duel between the two of them than to witness whatever it was they were doing at that moment.

"At least when they duel they're more or less silent, the idiots." Anne reasoned to herself, gazing fondly at Sebastian scrambling to answer a question while Ominis slept placidly by his side.

When the tedious lecture was finally over, the Slytherin heartthrob stopped paying attention to his rival and went to greet Natty to give her a tight hug much to the chagrin of Everett, who had remained watching his lioness from afar with his arms crossed in annoyance.

Anne Sallow wandered out of the classroom talking heatedly with Amit, and Anne Smith watched her walk out into the corridor without having time to announce her what she had been told by the professors before the lesson started.

Ominis, on the other hand, went straight to his sweetheart's side, asking her quite earnestly what Headmaster Black and Deputy Headmistress Weasley wanted from her. The two of them joined hands and Anne intertwined her fingers with his, smiling instinctively at his ever attentive and caring manner towards her.

Before they could start walking towards the Potions Classroom for their next class, just as Anne was about to speak to Ominis of her conversation with the professors, someone grabbed onto her Slytherin robes for the second time that morning.

"Hello, Anne! Interesting lesson, was it not? By the way, word is you've acquired a new wand - congratulations at last!" The thin lips of the Ravenclaw girl were stretched into a polite smile, as usual.

"Thank you, Samantha. If you wish to see my new wand at work, I suggest you drop by the Clock Tower Entrance later today. I know you disapprove of Crossed Wands, but I assure you I will cast spells you cannot even begin to imagine!" Anne replied cheerfully as she pulled up the sleeves of her uniform, revealing her slender arms as if already poised to descend into the duelling arena. "See you, Samantha."

"Wait, I wanted to ask you something!"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Well, your brother - boy, has he got himself all cleaned up compared to the days when he skipped classes to grow psychedelic fungi in the greenhouses! A year in Durmstrang has done him good - he's quite something, he's truly handsome! Do you suppose he's keen on courting girls? Do you know whether he already fancies someone? A Hufflepuff girl perhaps?"

Anne lowered her head to hide her vulnerable, angry expression behind the curtain of long ginger hair she had thankfully left loose that morning.

"Why do you care, Samantha? Are you contemplating feeding him a dose of Cupid Crystals, too?"

Ominis' velvety voice brought Anne's attention back to the present moment, icy and remorseless as only his voice could sound when someone aroused his wrath. Wrath that flared up with particular ferocity when Ominis felt cornered, or worse still if he felt compelled to defend one of the few people he genuinely cared about.

Worse still if the person in question was his incomparable witty girl - his sweet, precious Anne Smith.

Ignoring the way Samantha had begun to splutter and blush in utter embarrassment, the blind serpent reassuringly squeezed the hand of his fair ginger before guiding her out of the classroom without further ado.

"No. Most definitely no."

Professor Sharp's stern dark eyes were fixed on the Heir of Slytherin intent on helping his fair maiden sit on a stool to take her place at their favourite desk, the most isolated one in the entire Potions Classroom, located a fair distance from the teacher's desk on the left side of the room. Ominis' hands were still clasped on Anne's waist after he had lifted her slightly off the ground to rest her on her stool, not so much because she couldn't climb on it herself but rather to hear her giggle and impress her a little with his physical strength.

The former Auror pointed his index finger at the boy's chest as if he was accusing him of a heinous crime and was about to arrest him.

"No fawning in my classroom, Mr Gaunt. In fact, I think I'll actually move you to a different desk to prevent your hands from wandering far from your cauldron in search of something soft."

There was laughter across the classroom accompanying Ominis' slow steps as he walked away from Anne, snorting red in the face, to take a seat in the far corner where Samantha and Amit were sitting.

Professor Sharp took the opportunity to rearrange the seating so as to separate the more troublesome cliques of students who were likely to disrupt his lectures, having Garreth sit with Imelda and Violet in a desk of three and moving Natty to sit with Poppy Sweeting and Anne Sallow.

Last he sent Sebastian to take a seat next to Anne Smith, and the two of them looked at each other in astonishment, silently wondering how the former Auror could think that putting the two of them in a desk together was a good idea if what he wanted to avoid was losing his wits every five minutes.

The day's lesson was an introduction to the brewing of the Elixir to Induce Euphoria, and Professor Sharp, after a brief theoretical overview on the subject, set a time limit by which each student had to hand in their vial of elixir, which he would assess and then grade during the next lesson.

Sebastian looked at the ingredients that the former Auror had already neatly arranged on each table from his personal storeroom; he had the confused countenance of someone who doesn't quite know where to start, soft lips curving downwards and a furrowed brow forming an expression somewhere between hesitant and bored as he grabbed a tuft of peppermint while the water in his cauldron came to a boil. After making sure the peppermint was fresh, he pulled out a wooden chopping board from under the desk and began chopping it finely with a knife of adequate size.

"So, are you ready to make your Crossed Wands debut this afternoon, red?"

"You bet I am. You want to duel in pairs or would you rather go solo?"

"In pairs I would say. So you can have your moment of glory too. I wouldn't want you to burst into tears on the very first day of school because of me."

Anne gracefully crossed her taut legs on the stool, straightening her back and averting her gaze from Sebastian with an air of ostentatious haughtiness. His eyes flicked down to the hem of her grey skirt that had risen to reveal her mid-thighs, and he cursed the tights of her uniform that jealously concealed her snow-white skin. He jolted guiltily on his stool as her voice brought him back to reality; his eyes shifted diligently to the skilled hands of the Troll Slayer intent on adding porcupine quills to her cauldron as she watched her potion take on a lovely deep-blue colour.

"Keep dreaming, Sebastian. I could beat you without breaking a sweat. Besides, what makes you think I would choose you as my duelling partner today?"

"Don't make me laugh! And who would you choose? Let us hear it."

"I don't know, someone who wouldn't be in my way - someone who is strong and reliable, someone I don't have to carry like a child for him to keep up with my pace."

Sebastian nervously ran a hand through his unruly brown hair, summoning all his self-control to appear unmoved by her playful teasing so as not to give her the satisfaction of taking the bait and fervently argue that he had saved her life on several occasions in deadly duels. He had almost succeeded in his intent, remaining silent as he let his Elixir to Induce Euphoria simmer gently while noting with pride that the liquid was slowly taking on an orange colour that was most pleasing to the eye. He had almost done it when a testy remark escaped his lips without his brain being able to filter it out.

"I am your duelling partner, red."

"Of course you're my duelling partner, Sebastian. I'm well aware of that, I was only teasing. If only you weren't such a bloody wimp though..."

"Bloody wimp?! Me?!"

With an hysterical cry that greatly annoyed Professor Sharp, Sebastian finally fell into Anne's trap with both feet. She burst out giggling contentedly as he crossed his arms in outrage - her expressive dark eyes searched his as she ignored the teacher's warnings to be quiet.

"You are such a wanker, Sebastian." She said simply.

And he smiled, as he always did when she uttered those words at once vulgar and laden with affection.

Words of love, very different from those Anne spoke to Ominis, but words of love nonetheless, of that Sebastian was certain.

"And look at this." Continued the Troll Slayer, turning her attention back to her cauldron. "I would say that, as usual, I have brewed an exceedingly potent potion."

Sebastian looked into his own cauldron and grinned victoriously: his Elixir to Induce Euphoria was a perfect sunshine-yellow, a sign that it had been neatly brewed to produce a fine concoction.

"Ah, red! This time I will be the one to get the highest grade in the class. My potion isn't just excellent, it's flawless. Take a look."

The Troll Slayer got off her stool to go peek into the cauldron of her desk-mate; after a few minutes spent sniffing and carefully observing the colour of Sebastian's brew, Anne nodded weakly.

"Yes, you did a fine job, Sebastian. But your potion is nowhere near my league. Go ahead, take a closer look at mine."

She grabbed him by the sleeve of his Slytherin robes and unceremoniously dragged him in front of her cauldron so that he could actually take a closer look; when he merely raised his eyebrows doubtfully, she grew impatient and leaned over the table, pointing with her index finger to a spot just above the still-warm sunshine-yellow liquid.

Sebastian held his breath in astonishment and lowered his head even further onto Anne's cauldron where a multitude of rainbow-coloured reflections formed small arches suspended in mid-air.

"See? Rainbows! Now that's a flawless Elixir to Induce Euphoria." Anne sang as she gave Sebastian's forehead a weak smack, gloating in a way that might have suggested she'd had a fairly consistent dose of her own potion.

The Slytherin heartthrob watched her lovingly, remaining silent as she set about bottling her concoction and then walked confidently to Professor Sharp's desk to hand him her vial.

As the potions were delivered to the teacher's desk, the classroom slowly began to empty. Once through the doorway that overlooked the short corridor to the Library Annex, most of the students walked briskly towards the Great Hall where lunch was about to be served. Anne Smith lingered talking to the Sallow twins as they waited patiently for Ominis to join them. He was the last to deliver his Elixir to Induce Euphoria, but he was keen to point out to the prodigal potionist of the group that he was convinced he had done a fine job.

"I can imagine, my love." She replied with good-natured sarcasm.

"I notice a slight hint of sarcasm in your voice, Anne. Yet you should know that I manage well enough with potions. Since I cannot rely on my sight , I am slower than others, but that makes me far more meticulous."

Seeing her dear friend retort to the teasing while sounding vaguely offended, Anne Sallow's soft lips stretched into a smile as sweet as it was instinctive, then parted as if she were about to say something to him and cut in on the conversation.

The words died in her throat, however, and she found herself standing in silence, blushing with embarrassment when the lovely ginger took a small step forward towards him, gently grabbing the front of his Slytherin robes.

"I was only jesting, my 'touchy' love. I know you're good with potions." She whispered, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation. "So? Are you ready to cheer for me, Gaunt?" She then asked him with sudden excitement.

"Absolutely not, I'm not even thinking about it."

Just as it had lit up with excitement, Anne Smith's countenance became a mask of disappointment within an instant. Then, she put on a resolute expression and stepped forward enacting her practiced and unfailing technique to make Ominis yield to any of her demands, whether serious or frivolous: pretending to embrace him chastely, she pressed her generous breasts against his chest making sure he could feel their shape as she continued to speak.

"What do you mean no?"

Ominis smiled and took a step back so as not to fall into the trap of his sweet girl.

"You are always most sensual when you try to manipulate me, Anne. But you won't be able to convince me this time. Hubbub, mayhem, ridiculous bluster shouted in between spells - witches sighing dreamily, inciting idiot wizards to add to the dose of said bluster. But mostly people. A crowd of people. You see, my love, Crossed Wands is the epitome of all the things I detest. You won't drag me there, not even dead." The blind serpent concluded his speech running a hand through his soft blond hair as he smiled contentedly at hearing the inarticulate, utterly outraged squeals emitted by his sweet companion.

"I'm going to be there, Ominis! Isn't that enough to convince you to come along? Just once, I don't ask for much!"

"Come on, red, as if you didn't know him!" Sebastian interjected, fixing his deep dark eyes in those of the Keeper and raising his eyebrows as if genuinely amazed at her insistence. "Ominis has never - and I mean never - come to watch me duel since I joined the club. Never! And he won't make exceptions for you either, red - he's stubborn. In fact, it shocked me to no end that he lent you his own wand to allow you to compete last year!"

Anne Sallow gasped and brought her left hand to her mouth as if that last statement genuinely astonished her.

"He lent you his wand to allow you to enter the tournaments? Blimey, Anne, he bloody loves you! Very much so! Ominis loathes Crossed Wands! He says it's a bloody show-off for loudmouths."

"It is." Ominis confirmed with nonchalance. "I wouldn't lower myself to step into that arena for anything in the world. I was taught that duelling is serious business."

Anne Smith clicked her tongue in disappointment as she went back to stand before Ominis.

"You're old inside, Gaunt." She murmured, cinching the knot in his tie.

The Heir of Slytherin swallowed and his Adam's apple bobbed as he instinctively leaned his head to seek the mouth of his sweetheart as if he had suddenly forgotten he was standing in a crowded hallway. His bold gesture was stopped by a pale index finger that rested gently on his thin lips.

"Oh, Lord Gaunt, I bet you'd love to kiss me but you'll be late for lunch. Old men get cranky when they're hungry. Go on, go ahead and eat your luncheon, grandpa. I'll enjoy myself and show off instead."

Ominis bit his lower lip and gently seized the throat of the fair ginger as if he were about to put on a show in front of the Potions Classrom; she felt his strong hand squeeze her neck for a moment as his long fingers caressed her skin, then he stepped back again, shaking his head.

"Have fun, then. I will see you later, Smith." He told her in a slightly hoarse voice before turning to Anne Sallow, cheerfully offering her his right arm. "Come, my friend. We - who are most definitely the mature ones of the group - are leaving for lunch."

Sebastian fondly watched his sister laugh and blush as she walked away clutching his best friend's arm, then turned to the Troll Slayer with a mocking smile.

"You'll have to make do with my arm, red."

"I thought that in addition to your arm you wanted to offer me your wand. Aren't you my duelling partner?"

"I am."

They looked into each other's eyes as the Slytherin heartthrob held out his right arm to her, and as soon as her hand had tightened around his strong biceps, the snakes began to slither towards the Clock Tower Entrance.

When they arrived at Crossed Wands arena, they were greeted by a roar of chanting and cheering that echoed as loudly as the rumble of thunder throughout the height of the tower. A noisy, large crowd of students was ready to watch the matches of the day: word had spread that the Wandless had finally obtained a new wand, and everyone was eager to see her duel without holding back. A small group of fifth-year Hufflepuff students had even turned up with an enchanted banner of the kind usually intended for the stands of the Quidditch pitch on which they had written in huge letters “Troll Slayer”.

As soon as he spotted them in the crowd, Lucan Brattleby immediately ran up to Anne and Sebastian, his mop of black curls swaying to the rhythm of his footsteps like a bush blown by the wind. Without ceremony, the young lion asked if they intended to duel as a pair or if they preferred to participate in single matches, and when Sebastian wrapped his left arm around Anne's shoulders, proudly declaring that they would duel together, Lucan immediately invited them to enter the arena.

"Ladies and gents, it is my great pleasure to inform you that Sebastian Sallow and Anne Smith will be duelling as a pair today!"

The words of the young Gryffindor were greeted by another roar of excitement from the audience, but he was quick to wave his hands to silence everyone and continue speaking.

"Yes, I understand the enthusiasm. I can't wait to see them either - Sallow and Smith are nothing short of magnificent when they fight as a pair! But they are also the very best. Who will have the audacity to step onto the arena and face them?"

The first to step forward were Andrew Larson and Constance Dagworth, who declared that they had been training all summer for the opportunity to challenge the Troll Slayer to a duel: the Ravenclaws had no delusions of beating her, but they were determined to test themselves to see how long they could hold their own in the arena against her.

Anne and Sebastian took off their heavy Slytherin robes to be more agile in their movements, taking a few moments to warm up before fighting. All the girls present in the Clock Tower Entrance began sighing and calling Sebastian's name to cheer him on as soon as he pulled out his wand, preparing to take his position in the arena. The Slytherin heartthrob began to gloat and wink at every pretty face he could spot in the audience while the lovely ginger at his side held a hand to her forehead, shaking her head.

Andrew and Constance were defeated in a few simple moves by Anne, who did not fail to pull her duelling partner by the ear at the end of the match, telling him that, although she was perfectly capable of taking on even four of their schoolmates at a time, if they lost a duel because he was too busy thinking about cunt, she would make him pay handsomely for it.

One after the other, several pairs came forward to challenge the Slytherin wonders to a duel, but no one succeeded in making them struggle even a little.

Sebastian was bluster incarnate: he performed offensive spells far more complex and powerful than necessary, casting his gaze on the female audience and exulting internally whenever he saw a girl fanning herself watching him duel. Yet, as much as his deep dark eyes wandered from one pretty face to another with no apparent respite, they shone with delight only when they rested on the girl duelling at his side.

Anne's movements were fluid and controlled, her expression vaguely bored. None of those present were capable of engaging in a duel with the Keeper fighting on equal terms. It was like watching a big dog playing with its puppies, dosing the force of each movement so as not to risk hurting them. However, as much as Anne sincerely enjoyed duelling and loved a challenge, she equally loved to strut and be praised. Vain and proud, she soon decided that if she could not expect a tough challenge from her opponents, she would enjoy the crowd's cheering. Thus, one match after another, the Slytherin girl found herself laughing light-heartedly and feeling her heartbeat quicken with joy, as well as physical exertion.

When the tower clock chimed four o'clock in the afternoon, Lucan called a ten-minute break so that Anne and Sebastian could catch their breath, seeing as they hadn't stopped for a moment since they had started duelling.

"Your audience loves you, red." Sebastian said, pointing behind him with the thumb of his right hand as his attractive lips parted in a sweet smile meant only for his duelling partner.

"Of course they do. I am by far the main attraction of this club."

"Always modest."

"Always!"

They moved a few steps to lean against the iron gate that ran behind them along Crossed Wand's arena while Lucan was intent on encouraging a pair of seventh year Gryffindor boys who seemed keen to challenge Anne and Sebastian as soon as they caught their breath.

The fair ginger sighed deeply, wiping the perspiration from her forehead with her left forearm; she had pulled up the sleeves of her white shirt to elbow height before beginning to duel, exposing her white skin to Sebastian's fleeting glances

"Hopefully the next match will keep us on our toes a bit. Though, sadly, I'm not holding out much hope, to be honest."

"If you'd rather, we could always take each other on, red. I know how to give you a hard time, that's for sure."

"No, not today. Today we duel together, Sebastian." She murmured softly.

She gave Sebastian's right arm a playful little nudge as she slid her back along the iron gate to approach him and rest her head on his shoulder.

He smiled and closed his eyes to enjoy the moment while in the background continued to echo the clamour of the other students and Lucan's voice, ever busy organising the next matches of the day.

"Hmm, are you feeling rested, red? If you're thirsty, sometimes Lucan brings flasks filled with pumpkin juice for those who are exhausted."

"No, I'm not thirsty. I'm ready to start again!"

Anne hopped back to the centre of the arena, curtseying gracefully to the audience to play the fool as they went back to chanting and waving the banner in her honour.

But suddenly all was quiet.

Three seventh-year boys had appeared on the threshold of the Clock Tower Entrance. One of them was the Slytherin Prefect and to his right stood a Hufflepuff lad with hair so blond it almost looked white.

And one step behind them loomed another badger, tall and slender.

In the few moments it took for the audience to recover from their stupor and start making a fuss again, Samuel Smith advanced towards the centre of the arena with his friends in tow - thick, neatly styled ginger hair framed a countenance that could be considered strikingly handsome for male aesthetic standards.

His piercing dark eyes were fixed on young Lucan as if all the people intent on observing him at that moment did not exist at all.

"You are Lucan Brattleby, are you not?" He asked in a voice that was at once melodious and deep.

"Yes. I am the founder as well as the mediator of Crossed Wands. Samuel Smith, right? You were never interested in the club if I'm not mistaken."

Samuel Smith shrugged and remained silent. When he realised the young lion was expecting an answer, he sighed almost disdainfully before continuing.

"I've never been that interested in duelling, I've always preferred Quidditch. But at Durmstrang, the art of duelling is taught with all seriousness and proper discipline. I have come to greatly appreciate the sport."

"He would like to compete." The Slytherin Prefect interjected. "I'll vouch for him, Brattleby."

"Ah, I see."

Lucan looked intimidated by the older boys yet at the same time hesitant about what to do. He tormented his soft lower lip with his teeth for a few moments before nodding.

"All right. How can we deny access to someone who has duelled with the proud sons of Durmstrang? You have a duelling partner? We were about to resume -"

"I'd rather fight alone, if that's all right." Samuel absent-mindedly cast his gaze on the enchanted banner written by his housemates. "Troll Slayer." He muttered, smiling wryly. "Word has it that my sister is unrivalled in duelling. So, why not? I'd like to start off challenging her. She's here, isn't she?"

Lucan gestured in the general direction where Anne and Sebastian were still standing in the centre of the arena, a look of astonishment was painted on his face as if he wondered how it was possible that he hadn't noticed his sister yet.

When Samuel turned to Anne, his expression remained the same - neutral except for that strange, indecipherable little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Hello, sister." He said aloud, advancing towards the centre of the arena. "Long time no see. You became a witch - and a Slytherin, who knew?"

Anne had been completely frozen in the centre of the Clock Tower Entrance from the first moment her brother had stepped forward to speak to Lucan. Such was her immobility that the medieval armour scattered around the sides of Crossed Wands arena and the very dummies that were used for duelling practice seemed more alive than she was. Her vision was blurred, her breath held as if she were underwater, and her mind absent to the point that she did not feel the gentle touch of Sebastian's hand on her right arm as he tried to figure out if she was feeling ill. She only returned to the present moment when she realised that Samuel was standing in front of her, watching her intently.

The gaze of Durmstrang's former student was resting nonchalantly on her body and seemed to linger on her white shirt and the way it wrapped around her chest bringing out her breasts, which had always been ample for a physique as thin as hers.

"You have become a woman." He stated as he gazed back into her eyes.

A statement that made Anne's blood run cold in her veins, leaving her gaping in disgust as if she had been punched in the stomach despite the seemingly flat and matter-of-fact way it had been uttered.

"Alright, sister. I formally challenge you to a duel. What better way to bring us together again? After all, we don't have much to say to each other." Samuel continued.

His manner of speaking did not necessarily sound cruel, it was the way of speaking of someone straightforward and rather unashamed who says what he thinks and tells things as they are without trying to sugarcoat them. Which didn't work in his favour anyway: to Anne's eyes he was the usual dim-witted lad, lacking all savviness and always ready to do the bidding of the head of the family, boorishly, without even trying to develop a thought of his own.

"Red?"

Anne had detached herself from reality again, and Sebastian's soft voice brought her back to attention. She turned to him, opening and closing her mouth like a fish trying to breathe out of water, and although she tried to hide her expression by letting her long ginger hair fall in front of her face, he could make out the tears that marked her cheeks.

"She has frozen." Sebastian thought, feeling a painful twinge in his heart.

If there was one thing the Slytherin heartthrob couldn't stand, it was seeing Anne Smith in tears.

He gently grasped her shoulders and looked deep into her ink-black irises as if hoping to read her thoughts. Her eyes were filled with tears and seemed dilated with fear - the Keeper who had faced and defeated horrifying monsters, who had fought a war alone and who had been able to kill in cold blood when necessary, was now paralysed by the nightmarish memories of her childhood.

While Anne stood frozen in the centre of the arena, her memory brought back the metallic taste of her own blood in her mouth and on her cheeks the sting of the blows she received right in the face from her older brother when she had dared touch his toys with her filthy squib hands.

"Well? What's the matter sister?" Samuel urged, huffing as if the wait was boring him to death.

Sebastian let his hands slide down Anne's arms, squeezing them reassuringly, then he turned to the Hufflepuff boy and strained to flash one of his most attractive, nonchalant smiles - the kind he usually reserved for girls he wanted to seduce or rivals he wanted to befuddle with a seemingly friendly gesture.

"Say Smith, how about I duel you in place of your sister? I'd love to see what a duellist trained in Durmstrang has in store."

"Hmm?" Samuel shifted his attention to the Slytherin heartthrob looking increasingly bored. "Sebastian Sallow. You have always been a fearsome opponent on the Quidditch pitch, and you have always held the record as the best duellist in all of Hogwarts. I will gladly face you in a duel when the opportunity arises."

"Why not now?"

"Because now I 'm challenging my sister." Samuel said, pointing at her with his index finger as if he was talking to a halfwit and had to explain everything he said properly. "You cannot take her place in a formal duel - you don't have the title to do so."

"She can always step down, though, if she wants to. She has already fought several matches today." Lucan offered politely as he trotted towards them to better understand the situation.

"Nonsense." Muttered Samuel as he shrugged yet again.

He walked a few steps away and took off his heavy Hufflepuff robes, tossing them to the housemate he'd shown up with at the club as if he were his squire. Then, as if it were nothing, he stripped off the waistcoat and shirt of his uniform, standing bare-chested in the middle of the Clock Tower Entrance.

Tall and brawny, skin as fair as his sister's - Samuel Smith was now the centre of attention and all the girls present began to let out excited shrieks, pointing at him as if he were a delicious dessert to be ordered from an imaginary waiter by pointing their fingers at the menu.

Sebastian cast his gaze over the young witches, vaguely outraged and offended as they fussed over Samuel Smith without so much as a glance at him. Then he shook his head and focused his attention back on Anne, surprised to notice that she too was looking at the female audience, hatred and disgust painted in equal measure on her features as if she couldn't quite comprehend the situation.

"Aha, forgive me, Sallow. I seem to have stolen your thunder. Alas, there's nothing I can do about it." Samuel said, moving back to approach the centre of the arena as he gave Sebastian a smile that appeared sincere.

The Slytherin heartthrob said nothing and merely looked at him quizzically without ceasing to gently squeeze Anne's arms to give her courage.

When his jest failed to gain traction, Samuel raised his left hand, gesturing first towards his own face and then towards the body of his sister, pointing generically at her. When this also failed to gain impact, he spoke in a monotone voice.

"The mother of our father was a full-blooded Veela. My sister was never introduced to our grandmother - I don't even think anyone ever told her she had Veela blood in her. I, on the other hand, used to have a lot of fun pissing Grandma off as a child so that she would turn into a harpy."

He laughed idiotically, but the girls didn't seem to mind, and they continued to stare at the firm muscles of his torso holding their breath as if they were about to burst on the spot.

Sebastian turned his head to glance at Anne, who had not been listening to a word Samuel said and was still staring at the floor with her mouth open as if she were in a trance.

"Of course, Veela's blood! Her skin, her allure, the way men desire her to the point of becoming obsessed with her - fuck, it makes perfect sense! No wonder Ominis and I tore each other apart like lovesick cats over her..." Sebastian's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Samuel's melodic voice as he spoke again.

"Come on, sister, let's begin." He turned to the audience, running a hand through his soft ginger hair while winking at the girls. "My sister looks like she could use a little incitement!"

Within an instant, the cackling voices of the students crammed into the Clock Tower Entrance rose up again, cheers and chants of all kinds mingling together as Samuel spread his arms and waved them upwards to ask the crowd to shout even louder.

"Red, are you all right? Are you up for a duel?" Sebastian asked in a whisper.

"No - no! Sebastian, I - I -"

Anne couldn't even speak.

The mighty Troll Slayer continued to stand impaled in the centre of the arena, and at that moment Sebastian saw reflected on her face the fear and the grief of a child left to fend for herself - the Keeper's resolve nowhere to be found. His deep dark eyes were fixed on hers, his mind frantic and spinning as he tried to think of what he could do to help Anne and get her out of that situation without her being humiliated by her brother while she merely pleaded desperately with her eyes for him to do something, anything.

Suddenly, the clamour of the howling students turned into a respectful silence interrupted only by whispers veiled with curiosity and astonishment.

A moment later, Ominis Gaunt was stepping into the arena.

The warm rays of the sun shone on the narrow stone bridge that connected the Gryffindor Tower to the Clock Tower Entrance, their warmth tempered by a light summer breeze.

Anne Sallow sighed deeply and began fanning her face with her right hand while her left clung to Ominis' arm.

"I can't believe I'm actually about to witness the moment when elusive, withdrawn Ominis Gaunt sets foot into Crossed Wands' chaotic arena!"

"Trust me, I can't believe it either."

"And yet it's going to happen! Love makes people do the strangest things, doesn't it?"

Ominis paused for a moment before answering, thinking back with embarrassment to the way he had been humiliated at wizards' chess by Imelda during the afternoon - his mind constantly distracted by the thought that he was standing too far away from his sweet ginger to hear the melodious sound of her laughter as she enjoyed duelling with her friends. He thought back to the way his left foot had kept tapping nervously on the stone floor of the common room, the way his teeth had kept biting down on his thin lips until he had given in and asked his trusted friend to accompany him to the Clock Tower Entrance.

"Love is a mighty force, Anne. Tremendous, in fact. I don't know how to do it justice describing it in words - I don't know how to explain how I feel about her." Ominis confessed in a velvety whisper that was both sincere and vulnerable. "All I know is that every time I hold her in my arms, the rest of the world fades away. When she talks to me, everything she says sounds like the most interesting and important thing in the world to me, even when - and let's face it this happens a lot - she's talking bollocks. I - I'm in love with her - I -"

"Ominis, I'm - I'm very happy for you. For both of you! And - and please forgive me for not wanting to mention this matter before, I wasn't ready to hear you say such things... I wasn't ready to see you in love - truly in love - with another girl."

"Anne, forgive me. I didn't mean -"

Ominis' words were lost in the clamour that reached their ears through the thick oak door in front of them. It was not the noise, however, that had suddenly caught the attention of the blind serpent: his wand detected something.

Something horrible and unacceptable.

The white chestnut wood had begun to vibrate hysterically while the faithful unicorn hair at its core exuded a powerful mix of anxiety and rage.

There was only one thing that made Ominis Gaunt's sentient wand feel emotions so intense and so definite: Anne Smith.

The chestnut stalk had become symbiotic with the red-haired witch even before its own master realised he had fallen in love with her, and it was it that had desperately steered its blind owner in the right direction.

And now it was pointed stiffly at the oak door as it shouted loudly against the palm of Ominis' hand that something was deeply wrong - that their witty girl was suffering immensely on the other side of that very door.

The Heir of Slytherin quickened his pace, entering the Clock Tower Entrance with resolve, ready as much to spit venom as to fight if necessary.

He made his way through the crowd without realising that Anne Sallow could not keep up with him, ignoring anyone who spoke to him with the cold disdain of a true nobleman - of a true Gaunt.

Then, at last, he understood what was happening. And his heart sank into an abyss of black despair mixed with seething anger.

Samuel Smith, the handsome red-haired badger who had just returned from Durmstrang - with his noble ancestry, his titles, and his loathsome beliefs about blood status - stood in the centre of the duelling arena as he incited the audience to raise their voices, swaggeringly declaring that a formal duel was about to begin between him and his sister. On the other side of the arena, paralysed by memories of life-long abuse and violence, stood Ominis' witty girl - the love of his life.

Without a second thought, without even noticing the silence that had suddenly fallen all around him, the Heir of Slytherin stepped forward and into Crossed Wands arena.

Tall, proud, focused only on Anne Smith, he advanced until he was at her side.

When she saw him, she raised her head, letting her long ginger hair slip behind her shoulders as if suddenly no longer ashamed of the tears that streaked her face, and the core of the chestnut stalk vibrated even more ferociously.

"Ominis, you are - you are here!" She whispered, grateful and incredulous, as she timidly took a step towards him to embrace him.

He didn't stop in his tracks, however; he nodded to Sebastian as he took off his Slytherin robes to throw them into his hands. He then turned towards the spot where he heard the heavy footsteps of the Hufflepuff boy intent on approaching him.

"Smith." He greeted coldly.

"Ominis." Samuel reciprocated, perfectly calm as if greeting an old friend. "Father has informed me. The contract has already been signed. It seems that we will soon become kin."

"I will duel in her place." Ominis said coldly, skipping the pleasantries.

There was a moment's hesitation on Samuel's part.

"Well, she is your betrothed. You have the title and the right to stand in for her in a formal duel if you so wish."

"I care to honour our traditions, do you not?" Ominis curtly replied. "It is customary for a pureblood wizard of high lineage to be challenged to a duel by the family patriarch or by the elder brother of his bride-to-be so that he may prove himself worthy of her."

Anne brought her hands to her chest and let out an agitated cry - fright and anxiety reflected in her sweet dark eyes as she stared at Ominis' shoulders while he was intent on rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as his back was to her.

Sebastian placed a hand on her shoulder to reassure her.

"Red, it's all right. The old bastard knows what he's doing." He told her as he carefully watched the movements of the blind serpent.

Sebastian knew that hostile behaviour well enough: it was the one his best friend would assume whenever Ominis gave way to Gaunt. And Anne knew that behaviour well in turn, but she was too shaken to think clearly.

Samuel chuckled and nodded as if genuinely amused.

"I'm fine with it." He said simply as he walked several steps away, shrugging his shoulders.

The audience had resumed roaring and chanting while Samuel's friends had sat on the wooden bench at the far side of the arena where the badger was going to fight.

Sebastian did the same, going to sit on the wooden bench on the opposite side, where his and Anne's Slytherin robes lay abandoned.

Ominis stepped towards his lovely ginger, addressing her in a firm voice.

"Go sit with Sebastian, Anne."

But she placed her hands on his chest clinging to his shirt as if her life depended on it, and her alluring rosy lips parted to let out a hissing whisper as adoring as it was imploring.

"Ominis, be careful! In Durmstrang they study the Dark Arts - he - he -"

Ominis had always thought Parseltongue sounded exotic and strange pronounced by Anne who had struggled hard to learn how to speak it, obediently following his teachings. He smiled imperceptibly at her words, moved by the vulnerability she was showing at that moment and almost amused by the warning she had tried to give him.

"Who do you think you are talking to, my love?" He answered her in the same serpentine language - his accent cold and ominous compared to her softer one.

Without much thought, he lowered his head to capture her mouth in a kiss. His tall, slender physique hid hers from the view of the audience, but from the way his broad shoulders and his blond head moved, it was all too clear what he was doing to her, and the crowd began to whistle and make allusive puns at them.

Ominis didn't care, he straightened up, gently brushing the thumb of his left hand over her lips, murmuring softly.

"For good luck."

Then, in a flash, his expression reverted to serious and hostile; he turned towards the centre of the arena and advanced, pointing the chestnut stalk in front of him as he tilted his head to the side to better focus on Samuel Smith's footsteps.

The handsome badger stood planted on his mark with the calm, measured countenance of someone who is fully aware of his abilities without underestimating those of his opponent. Said opponent, on the other hand, was tense, even willing to play dirty in order to make sure that the warning he intended to deliver came through loud and clear.

So the Heir of Salazar Slytherin and that of Helga Hufflepuff stood still, waiting for Lucan to give the signal to begin - moments that for Anne seemed to last for years.

"Ladies and gents, this is a most unique event! There are two future Lords competing in our arena today! Unsociable Ominis Gaunt against Durmstrang's son, Samuel Smith!" Shouted the young mediator, giving the signal to begin duelling.

Samuel bowed deeply in respect for his opponent, barely raising his eyebrows in astonishment when he saw Ominis hardly tilt his head forward - a silent and calculated display of disrespect. Unperturbed, Helga's descendant sprang to his feet, moving his wand with incredible speed.

"Depulso!"

"Protego!"

A strong shockwave slammed into Ominis' protective shield, and Sebastian clutched Anne tightly to him as their backs were crushed against the iron gate behind them. With equal swiftness and precision, the blind serpent cast a Confusion Hex at his opponent, who was quick to counter with a Backfiring Jinx, forcing Ominis to raise a protective shield in front of him again to defend himself from his own hex.

The duellists began an intricate, fierce dance of spells and counterspells that increasingly resembled a duel to the death rather than a skirmish between students.

Anne was well aware of Ominis' duelling prowess, yet she could not help but tremble and whimper in despair every time her hated brother seemed to prevail against him. She went so far as to cover her eyes with her hands as if the gesture was meant to end the damned match sooner rather than later, and flinched blatantly when Sebastian placed his left hand on her shoulder to get her attention.

The Slytherin heartthrob - experienced duellist in his own right - was intently watching the movements of his best friend; he nervously ran a hand through his unruly brown hair and then pointed his index finger at Ominis' back.

"He's got him." He said simply.

And, as if he had been able to fully predict his moves, a moment after Sebastian had spoken, Ominis shattered Samuel's Protego charm, striking him once, then again before he bellowed: "Expulso!"

There was a powerful beam of blue light, and Samuel Smith was thrown violently against the stone wall behind him - drops of blood began to gush from the abrasion formed on his bare back from the impact with the stone wall.

There were thunderous cheers in honour of the Heir of Slytherin.

A small group of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw girls crowded around Samuel Smith to make sure he was all right, but the gaze of the handsome badger was fixed on Ominis - his expression indecipherable.

The warning from his opponent had been clear and deliberate: he had won fair and square, but at the same time he had given him a taste of his own might and resolve.

And the way he was now approaching to shake his hand concealed the gist of his warning: "I do not seek a confrontation with you, but if you force me to fight, I will be the one to end it" he seemed to be saying, his countenance serious and hostile enough for him to express that concept without the need for him to put it into words.

Samuel got up from the ground and accepted a Wiggenweld Potion from the Slytherin Prefect as he nodded in understanding to Ominis, making an effort to smile.

"Looks like you can keep shagging my sister, Gaunt." He told him as if trying to build camaraderie with him in the hope of creating some sort of manly brotherhood.

But Ominis did not appreciate the vulgar remark and replied in a tone as polite as it was icy.

"I happen to be in love with your sister, Smith. She is most dear to me." He curtly said giving even more substance and clarity to his warning.

Then, without adding anything else, he turned and walked towards Anne, who had meanwhile got up to run over to him.

Sebastian got up in turn from the wooden bench and began to gather their Slytherin robes; he took a few steps towards them, only to stop a moment later. His heart skipped a little, that dull, constant ache he had grown accustomed to and which he felt every time he laid his gaze on the happy couple.

He had loved Anne Smith. He still loved her. He loved her at all times. Deeper every day, if possible.

Giving her up had been the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. Yet he had found the strength to step aside and let his best friend live his love dream with her, learning in that moment the true meaning of the word Love - understanding the courage it takes to give love even when it cannot be reciprocated as one wishes.

And now he looked at Anne nestled in Ominis' arms, devotion reflected in her sweet dark eyes as she clung to him for his protection. His gestures were loving, gentle - the relief at the idea of holding his sweet girl in his arms evident in the way he breathed. And Sebastian could only accept the fact that Ominis was Anne's knight in shining armour, not him - he was just the poor stable boy, the one watching the princess from the courtyard as she looks out of the window to gaze at the landscape.

And now that princess was gazing dreamily at her knight, forgetting the crowd around her as she parted her lips in a quivering smile - soft, tempting lips that were silently begging to be kissed.

And Ominis would kiss them.

The tension in his strong hands as they gripped Anne's waist possessively was evident - the eagerness to be alone with her, far from the crowd and far from the hubbub.

They walked away like that, the fair ginger on the arm of the Heir of Slytherin while the other students all around continued to make a racket.

Sebastian watched them leave, smiling sadly, only to compose himself as his sister appeared beside him.

"Help me get the lovebirds' uniforms to the common room. Too busy fawning on each other to remember to take their things, those two."

"Uh, do you think we'll find them there? It's dinnertime soon. Oh, we could all play a game of Gobstones together tonight!"

"I don't think Anne and Ominis will be back in the common room tonight at all, sister."

"I see..." Anne Sallow muttered, wearing on her face the same mask of sadness that her brother had worn moments before.

"The nerve of that bastard! The vile arsehole!" Snarled Ominis, raising his voice as he walked briskly into the Room of Requirement, leaving Anne on the threshold. "But if he thinks he can approach you like it's nothing after what he put you through, he's sorely mistaken! Vile brute that he is!"

Still seething with anger at the thought that Samuel Smith had made his precious Anne feel uneasy and humiliated, Ominis loosened his green tie with more strength than necessary, hanging it over the back of one of the many cushioned chairs set around the study table in the Keeper's private library. A moment later, his shirt went to cover the tie after he had unceremoniously stripped it off to wipe away the perspiration he had worked up during the fight in Crossed Wands arena.

He and Anne had headed for the Room of Requirement as soon as the duel between him and her hated brother was over. Like a pair of eagles huddling inside their nest after having successfully defended it from another predator, the Heir of Slytherin and his Lady-to-be needed privacy, quiet - they needed to be in each other's arms to regain peace of mind.

Ominis was simply livid.

Every step he had taken from the Clock Tower Entrance to the Astronomy Tower had served to further fuel his wrath instead of dissipating it, as he found himself replaying in his mind every detail of that unpleasant encounter - Samuel's arrogance, his heartlessness and apparent indifference to the emotional suffering of his sister. How could he think of approaching her as if they were a happy family after the years of abuse and discrimination she had suffered within the walls of the Smith mansion? Either he was a complete dimwit or he was a perfect arsehole. And either way, Ominis was determined to hate him with every fibre of his being.

"That disgusting filth - fucking subhuman! I swear if he tries to corner you like that ever again, I won't answer for myself! I swear I will bend my elbow against him and make him suffer - to Hell with the consequences!"

Ominis stood still in the centre of the room and held both hands in his blond hair, dishevelling it slightly as he shook his head. Then suddenly he slammed his fists hard on the wooden table in front of him. A powerful mix of adrenaline and testosterone coursed through his veins like liquid fury making his every muscle tremble as if struck by electricity as he remained slightly bent over the table resting his weight on his hands.

Anne approached him tentatively, sweet dark eyes fixed on the floor of the chamber and a slight blush spread across her cheeks.

"Ominis? I'm sorry about what happened -"

"What? Oh, my love, forgive me. I shouldn't behave like this."

Ominis immediately turned to Anne, extending his arms towards her to invite her into an embrace.

Without hesitation, she clung to him and hid her face in his chest.

"Are you terribly cross?" She asked in a whisper, tickling his skin with her breath.

"I'm pissed as Hell. Forgive me if I can't control myself. When I think back to the scene I witnessed when I stepped into that damn arena..."

"You were coming to cheer me on." She said, closing her eyes as an innocent smile suddenly lit up her face.

Ominis' thin lips curved upwards in turn, his anger slightly soothed by the thought that Anne seemed peaceful clutched in his arms and that her voice sounded dreamy and laced with adoration for him.

"Aye, I was coming to cheer you on."

She let out a satisfied giggle and moved her head from his chest to caress it with her hands. Her slender fingers gently traced the scars that marked Ominis' skin - the ones his hated brother had given him. The lovely ginger thought back to that nefarious day - she thought back to the storm, to Marvolo Gaunt's violence and the sickening things he had tried to do to her.

And she thought back to Ominis, to his slashed chest and his determined, confident countenance.

He had protected her then, and he had protected her that very day too.

He would always protect her - he had promised her. And Ominis Gaunt always kept his promises.

Standing on her tiptoes, Anne left a trail of gentle kisses along his taut jaw; her lips brushed against his skin in a strangely hesitant gesture, as if she was trying to get his attention without having the courage to take the initiative more resolutely. Her silent request was granted without any hesitation on Ominis' part, who lowered his head to capture her mouth in a passionate kiss as soon as he felt her breath become slightly laboured as her soft lips tickled his cheek.

The hands of the Heir of Slytherin slipped unabashedly over the arse of his fair ginger, slithering under the skirt of her uniform to eagerly grope her curves as a strangled grunt rose in his throat forcing him to break the kiss.

Ominis needed to get rid of the tension he had built up during his clash with Anne's brother, it was easy to tell by the way he kissed her, looming over her as if he was about to devour her.

And she closed her eyes, relaxing and allowing him to take control as his scent washed over her - the fragrance of his expensive cologne mixed with the strong smell of the sweat he had worked up in Crossed Wands arena made her feel weak at the knees. It was a manly scent, utterly attractive, as were his movements and the dominant stance he assumed as he held her gently in his arms.

Ominis kept Anne safe in his coils, kissing her unhurriedly yet fiercely, forcing her to tilt her head back due to the sheer intensity of his passion, and soon she was overwhelmed by her own passion.

The pleasant warmth radiating from his bare skin, the hard muscles in his chest and stomach twitching every time her delicate hands brushed over them, and again his velvety voice made hoarse with arousal as he grunted against her lips: within moments, a wet slick of feminine fluids formed between Anne's legs, and she whimpered with embarrassment when Ominis' hands - still buried under her skirt, avidly palming her - found their way onto it.

His kiss suddenly became gentler, somewhat careful as he let the forefinger and middle finger of his left hand slide along the wet fabric of her tights to feel with his fingertips the swollen outline of her cunt.

Another embarrassed squeal escaped her lips as she resumed to gently kiss his jaw.

"Ominis?" She asked weakly.

She seemed to have a thousand needs to express without knowing how to ask for them, as if she were partly too embarrassed and partly too caught up in the thrill of the moment to express herself in plain words.

Thus she called his name, languid and candid at the same time. Yet that was all he needed to understand her.

His fingers continued to carefully rub her tights, another choked grunt slipped out from his lips as he felt her wetness growing against his fingertips.

"I've got you, Anne. I will take care of you, my sweet love." He whispered in her ear.

Then, without warning, his fingers pushed hard on the spot where her tights concealed her clitoris, making her jerk and moan yet again.

"Do you want me to get you off right now, love? Or you want me to make you come while I'm inside you?" His voice sounded unexpectedly harsh, the voice of a Lord who has asked a question and demands an answer.

"Yes - yes! Ominis I want - I need you to make love to me."

There was an animalistic grunt that echoed throughout the Room of Requirement, then Ominis leaned his forehead against Anne's.

"Then we have to wait about half an hour." The words came out of his mouth as if it cost him an immense effort to utter them and as if he was appealing to all his self-control not to brutally jump on her. "I haven't got any contraceptive potions with me. You must give me time to prepare one." He added, nodding his head to the right, where he knew Anne's potion stations were located.

"Oh, sure. Will - will it take half an hour?"

"About. Why don't you pop up to your room and freshen up in the meantime? It makes me go insane when you doll yourself up for me."

She smiled and blushed slightly, then gave him a kiss on the cheek and trotted to the spiral staircase on the right of the room to ascend to her lofty bedroom.

Flooded by the excitement and trepidation she felt at the prospect of making herself pretty for Ominis, Anne went to sit on her bed to look at herself in the lovely ornamental mirror on her bedside table. Humming happily, she used the time she had to vigorously brush her hair to make it shiny again after the afternoon spent perspiring in Crossed Wands arena. She gathered her soft ginger locks into a simple plait to make her neck easier to reach for Ominis' lips, blushing slightly at the thought.

She spent about twenty minutes rummaging through the dresser where she kept her undergarments and lingerie, undecided whether to wear something simple or something provoking. She knew that if Ominis had any say in the matter, he would opt for her to wear the most obscene lingerie ever conceived on Earth. She put her hands on her cheeks, feeling them flush, and at that very moment inspiration came to her: Ominis loved being teased, seduced, and she was going to humour him.

Having undressed, she descended the spiral staircase with uncertain steps, gloriously naked.

Ominis was sitting on the counter of her huge Gothic potion station; in the silver cauldron to his right simmered a potion of a scarlet red. He had taken off his shoes and socks, and he was supporting himself on one leg while the other was bent at the knee to rest his foot against the black wood of the cabinet. In his hand was a letter that he was apparently reading while holding the chestnut stalk pointed at the parchment; from time to time, he paused to point his wand at the cauldron and turn the ladle inside it clockwise.

"Who is writing to you? Or are you secretly peeking at a letter meant for me?" Anne asked, smiling as she approached Ominis with hesitant steps, suddenly acutely aware of her nudity.

"Hmm? Oh, it's a note left for us by Deek. He apologises, he says he will be absent these days because he will have to constantly assist Professor Weasley - they will have a lot to do with the start of the academic year." He gestured with a nod to a wheeled cart placed to the left of the potion station. "He left dinner cooked for us. Pork chops, since ‘Miss Smith likes them so much’. Are you hungry?"

As Ominis snuffed out the fire under the cauldron with an elegant flick of his wand, Anne laid eyes on the covered tray resting on the wheeled cart. It was steaming, a sign that Deek had cast a spell to keep dinner warm. She smiled, thinking of her thoughtful elf friend, then turned to Ominis and stepped closer to him.

"I'm hungry for something else right now." She said, praying to sound charming as she struggled to control the tremor in her voice.

Ominis smiled to himself as he slipped his wand into the pocket of his breeches.

"Are you now?" He murmured, extending his hands towards her to invite her into a hug. "The potion is ready - I shall wait to drink it and let it cool down about ten minutes. You know, kissing you with a burnt tongue would take all the fun away for me." He laughed like an idiot at his own jest.

His hands seized Anne's hips, and the instant they caressed her bare skin, his laughter died down and surprise was painted on his handsome features - blind blue eyes glazed with lust slowly closing as if in the throes of the most intense ecstasy.

"Fuck." He whispered - a hoarse, velvety voice that caused Anne's heartbeats to spike. "You don't want to waste time, huh? Allow me to indulge you, love."

Before she could realise his intentions, the lovely ginger felt the hands of the Heir of Slytherin tighten on her hips and lift her off the floor to rest her on the work table of the potion station as if she had been a rag doll. Her heart now seemed to go frantic as she found herself with her back to Ominis, lying on her right side amidst the candles used to light the counter and the ornamental silver urns that contained all her precious ingredients.

"Ominis, what are you doing?" She asked with a small, hysterical cry as she clasped her legs together and blushed anew in embarrassment.

"What is it, love? You come up to me naked and then suddenly act coy? What did you expect?"

The wood of the potion station creaked softly as Ominis rested his right hand beside Anne's elbow, as she was trying to hold herself up to turn her head towards him.

"It seems obvious to me what I'm doing. I'm waiting for the potion to cool down while I help you warm up."

His mouth descended on her white throat sucking lusciously at the very spot where the erratic beating of her heart could be felt as his left hand reached between her legs to search for her folds with his long fingers; when he found them, he slowly slid his index and middle fingers inside her, exerting pressure on her clitoris with his thumb. Her left leg raised shamelessly to give his hand better access, and the thin lips of the Heir of Slytherin curved victoriously upwards as they continued to playfully nibble the hollow of her neck.

As Ominis thrust his fingers inside her, setting a slow, steady rhythm, Anne began to whimper softly. A sound that was desperate yet restrained at the same time, as if she was ashamed to be lying naked on her potion station resting her hands between burnt candles and tufts of dried herbs while Ominis was bending over her to bite her neck - his left hand possessively tucked between her legs as he fingered her with the same focused expression he had when he applied himself to a task in the Potions Classroom.

And indeed Ominis was highly focused, every movement of his expert fingers calculated to bring Anne to orgasm. It wasn't just a matter of making her feel good, he had to prepare her for penetration because it had always been difficult for him to make love to her without hurting her: she was quite thin and he was bigger than average, a rather simple equation that could lead to unpleasant results if intercourse was performed without thinking straight.

And so he struggled to ignore his painful erection to focus entirely on her, paying attention to every moan, every gasp until his male pride was inflated by the strangled cry that climbed up her throat as her tight cunt clenched around his fingers - wet and swollen, finally ready to be taken by him.

While the fair ginger put a hand to her mouth in order to muffle her whimpering as she enjoyed the last of her orgasm, Ominis pulled down his breeches with his right hand while he let his left wander tentatively in search of the cauldron he had been working at just before. In his eagerness, he almost tipped over his potion when his hand finally closed around the ladle from which he took a long sip of red slop.

A moment later he was placing his left knee on the table to stand behind Anne as he continued to support his weight on his right hand and leg.

She pulled herself up onto her elbows again, parting her quivering lips to ask Ominis to continue making love in a more comfortable place, but he could wait no longer and was already rubbing the head of his cock against her folds to mix his precum with her fluids and further lubricate her entrance. Anne instinctively arched her back, jerking her head as incoherent words veiled with lust slipped past her lips. Her desperate vocalisations spurred Ominis who effortlessly lifted her left leg, resting his hand in the crook of her knee and then thrusting himself hard inside her.

Taking her like that felt divine to him. The Heir of Slytherin felt as if he were entering through the gates of Heaven as his cock slid into her tight cunt, slowly but surely until his rough blond pubic hair rubbed against her soft bottom.

Lying on her side on a work table with Ominis practically standing up behind her, Anne had never felt so submissive to him, and that delicious sense of surrender she felt every time she gave him control began to burn fiercely in her belly.

She wanted to be conquered, owned by Ominis. And he, without the need for this to be made explicit, was perfectly aware of that.

And that delicate, submissive side of her character fed his possessive, dominant side, bringing them together in the physical act of love like two puzzle pieces that complete each other.

He began thrusting deep inside her, grunting animalistically as he tried to ignore the way his balls tightened with each bump of his groin against her supple bottom.

She continued to moan and brace herself on her elbows, helpless - her back sensually arched as she could do nothing but receive, take Ominis' cock and indulge him until he would reach his glorious orgasm.

Yet she was the one who came first: focusing on the sensation of being constricted having Ominis forcibly keep her legs spread as he thrust into her with as much strength as standing up allowed him to use, momentarily blurred her vision as her cunt clenched hard around his cock.

There was a velvety laugh followed by a satisfied grunt as Ominis slowed his movements to make it pleasant for her to ride out her orgasm till the end.

"You are shameless, Anne." He told her, giving her a playful slap on the arse as he pulled out of her.

She struggled to sit up, smiling embarrassedly.

"Come here, my love. Hold on to me." He murmured, smiling in turn, considerate and caring as he helped her turn towards him so that she could wrap her arms around his neck.

When Anne had clung firmly to his shoulders, Ominis lifted her up again and turned to sit on the table of the potion station, helping her to position herself straddling him. She moved her hands to entwine her fingers in his soft blond hair, still neat despite the erotic feats he had just performed. His cock was still proudly erect between his legs, and the lovely ginger was struck by a new surge of passion when she felt it rest against her crotch.

"Do you want to continue?" He asked in confirmation as he let his hands slide down her hips to invite her to sit on his erection.

"Yes." She barely managed to answer, trembling slightly as she welcomed the Heir of Slytherin back inside her womb.

"Then pleasure me, witty girl." He whispered in her ear, letting his hands gently show her how he wanted her hips to move.

Anne did her best to follow the rhythm Ominis was trying to set, but every time she rolled her hips and thrust her groin against his, she was shaken by a thrill of pure ecstasy that seemed to set fire to the blood in her veins; in that position his length felt even more intrusive, and her movements were jerky and not fluid at all.

Yet he smiled contentedly and sought her lips to give her sweet, loving kisses, seemingly not at all fazed by the clumsy way she moved. That made her blush and at the same time it gave her the resolve to redouble her efforts.

She began to increase the pace of her movements, forcing herself to keep going even when she felt like she was being overwhelmed by the intense pressure building in her belly. Without realising it, she was moaning louder than before, and when Ominis' lips left her mouth to find her breasts, she distinctly felt tears forming in her expressive dark eyes from the sheer force of those sensations she was feeling. Then she felt the pressure about to burst within her womb again, and with it the crushing embarrassment at having pleasured herself on Ominis' cock instead of being able to make him cum.

She tried to stop herself, mumbling nonsensical apologies in utter panic, but he tightened his grip on her hips with renewed ardour.

"Don't stop. Don't stop, love - come for me again. You are such a good girl, Anne." He told her, bringing his lips to her ear once more.

Hoarse words that turned into a feral grunt when he felt her trembling in his arms as her cunt spasmed frantically around him.

"I - I love you, Ominis!" She stammered, clinging to his shoulders.

And another strangled cry was heard in the Room of Requirement while Ominis hid his face in the crook of Anne's neck as he spilled himself inside her.

There was a moment of silence in which only their panting breaths could be heard, mingling together as they sought each other's mouths locked in an embrace as strong as the coils of a serpent. They remained like that for several minutes: naked, happy, without needing to fill the silence with words.

It was as naturally that they got up when their legs began to tingle from being in the same position for too long, and it was just as naturally that they lay down on the Victorian chaise longue on the other side of Anne's private library to eat the dinner Deek had cooked for them - as naked as the day they were born.

When it was time to lie down in bed, Ominis took her in his arms as if it were their wedding night and asked her to guide him upstairs. It was after several minutes and after several head-butts Anne took on the way up the spiral staircase that they jumped into their double bed, laughing like children as they hugged each other tightly - Samuel Smith forgotten, as was the rest of the world.

When the Gothic wrought-iron wall clock that hung above Anne's bedside table in the Room of Requirement chimed eight o'clock in the morning, the Keeper cursed Merlin and all of Cylidd through gritted teeth.

In her class schedule for the first term there were no academic engagements on Wednesdays. If it had been an ordinary day, she could easily have stayed in bed late because classes were only scheduled in the afternoon - three hours of Transfiguration, to be precise. Yet she had to head straight to the Transfiguration Classroom by eight thirty in the morning so that she and Professor Weasley could schedule the tutoring hours she had offered to teach Anne Sallow and her wicked older brother before the Deputy Headmistress had to start her classes at nine o'clock.

She had not yet managed to wake up and open her eyes to face a new day, and Anne's rosy lips were already distorting into a disgusted grimace at the thought of what lay ahead. However, it was enough for her to realise that she was clasped in Ominis' arms to immediately feel like smiling again.

He was lying on his back and she had been sleeping on top of him all night, wrapping her arms around his neck to hold him close as she rested her forehead against his jaw.

Ominis did not seem bothered by the way he bore the weight of her body as he slept, on the contrary he seemed to be resting blissfully precisely because he could feel Anne's breasts pressed to his chest and her crotch resting on his morning erection as he lay keeping one hand tucked behind his head and the other possessively clutching her arse.

Anne took a moment to admire the handsome features of her beloved. She tenderly kissed and caressed every inch of his skin as a way of saying good morning to him while she summoned all her good will to find the strength to get out of bed and hurriedly get ready to join Professor Weasley.

Ominis' blond eyebrows barely furrowed when he felt her body shift as if she was trying to move away from him, and without opening his eyes, he brought both hands to her back searching for her mouth with his.

"My love, I must go! Professor Weasley is waiting for me to arrange the tutoring I was telling you about yesterday." She told him with a smile on her lips that was part sad at the prospect of what awaited her and part amused at his morning laziness.

"Stay with me." He mumbled, continuing to keep his eyes closed as he kissed her neck with sloppy movements.

"That's not Ominis Gaunt talking, that's his cock." Anne pointed out as she giggled and blushed at the insistence with which Ominis had begun to hump her crotch so as to blindly try and nestle his erection within her folds.

"Let it talk, love. It has a right to speak its mind." Was the slurred reply from the lad lying half-asleep beneath her.

"Ominis! I must go, my love! The Deputy Headmistress is waiting for me!" She said without stopping giggling and blushing as she slipped out of his grasp and got out of bed with an agile leap.

He grunted, half asleep and obviously disappointed as he groped for the pillow behind his head to lay it on his face.

Anne did her best to get ready for the day without wasting time; she brushed her hairs with care, deciding that they were still clean enough to be worn loose despite the assorted physical exertions she had engaged in the previous day. She cast one last quick glance at her wall clock to make sure she was still on time, and she cursed Merlin and the whole Round Table yet again, noting that she didn't have time to eat breakfast.

"See you later, my love! I've got to run, I'm already late and-" As she bid goodbye to the sleeping lad in her bed, the lovely ginger was cut off by the whooshing sound typical of apparition, and she almost had a heart attack realising that before her sweet dark eyes comically wide with surprise, Scrope had appeared.

"Greetings, young Heir." Said the house-elf bowing towards the unmade bed where Ominis was still sleeping. "And greetings to Miss Smith as well, the most beautiful Slytherin maiden and future pride of House Gaunt."

"Scrope, good to see you! I am running awfully late now - I have to run! We'll talk another time. ...By the way, what are you doing here?"

"Master sent Scrope to fetch the young Heir. Scrope imagined he would find him here with his future Lady."

Scrope held a letter in his hand that bore the seal of House Black and he seemed strangely formal and nervous, almost worried.

Anne was used to receiving special treatment from the butler of Headmaster Black and seeing him so serious instinctively put her on edge.

Ominis wasn't showing any indication that he was alive and was still sprawled on the bed with his face covered by the pillow; she cast a quick glance towards him then back at the letter in Scrope's hand before deciding that she didn't have enough time to further investigate the situation.

"Headmaster Black summoned Ominis?"

The house-elf hesitated, holding his breath as if he wanted to say something important to his dear Miss Smith but didn't know where to begin.

"Yes." He finally said, turning back to the bed where Ominis lay. "The young Heir is expected in Master's study. It would be good for the young Lord to get ready at once."

The Heir of Slytherin grunted in annoyance and aggravation without taking the pillow off his face, and his sweet Lady-to-be put a hand to her mouth to suppress her laughter before waving goodbye to Scrope and descending the spiral staircase of her lofty bedroom to hurry out of the Room of Requirement.

The fair ginger performed a ridiculous, mad dash from the Astronomy Tower to the Transfiguration Courtyard, dodging students left and right along the castle halls. When she arrived in front of the heavy oak door of the Transfiguration Classroom it was half past eight on the dot, and after she had summoned all her self-control to stretch her soft lips into a polite smile, she crossed the threshold and entered the empty room with a determined stride.

"Good morning, Professor Weasley. Here I am, as agreed."

"Miss Smith!"

Anne's attention was focused on the Deputy Headmistress sitting at the desk at the back of the classroom so intently, that as she walked towards her, she hadn't even noticed her faithful elf friend standing to the right with an assortment of scroll documents in his hand that seemed to be rather tedious. Deek was shifting his weight from one foot to the other and his puny, rag-covered body was trembling with excitement as if he couldn't wait to run across the room to embrace the Slytherin girl, but upon casting a quick glance at the Deputy Headmistress he cleared his throat and returned to the task at hand without giving his human friend any more attention.

"Good morning, Miss Smith! Oh - I notice you're not carrying a satchel with you. You didn't bring the Field Guide? I was hoping we could start tutoring Miss Anne Sallow and Mr Samuel Smith this very morning."

"Ah, I didn't have it with me. It's in my dormitory and I didn't sleep there tonight. No problem though - I can always descend into the dungeon and get it."

The old lioness was silent for a moment as she arranged an unruly lock of auburn hair in her loose bun with the frowning expression of someone who doesn't quite know how to put into words what’s on their mind.

"As much as you will never be denied access to the Room of Requirement, given the ‘unofficial role’ of Keeper you hold and which the entire faculty acknowledges, I ask you to be discreet and spend more time in your common room, Miss Smith. It is important to socialise with your peers at this age - you will have plenty of time to socialise with Mr Gaunt in your life together. But we already touched on this subject last year, I won't go back over it! It was just a veiled warning, shall we say!" Professor Weasley smiled sincerely at the Slytherin girl standing in front of her desk. "After all, despite the high esteem and appreciation I have for you, I am still your teacher! I must lecture you from time to time, Miss Smith."

"Of course, I understand." Anne arched her eyebrows in a way that hinted at slight irritation, fixing her deep dark eyes in those of the Deputy Headmistress as she felt a rising anxiety mount within her. "About the tutoring I'll have to deal with - I guess you wanted to discuss it with me to give me advice on how to proceed, since I've never dealt with anything like that before."

"That's right. I would say that, in this case, the best way to proceed is - to use an expression - strike while the iron is hot!"

Anne snorted, striving to appear detached while trying to ignore the painful twinge she felt in her heart at the thought of having to come face to face with her brother again within moments.

"That is to say, Professor?"

"That is to say, as the different classes progress, you will quiz Mr Samuel Smith to make sure there are no gaps in his knowledge of what is taught at Hogwarts during the sixth year which he attended at another institute. That way you'll get a good review from lecture to lecture as well!"

"And as for the other student I am to tutor?"

Professor Weasley stretched her wrinkled lips into an amused smile as if she thought the Keeper's question was stupid.

"Same thing but in reverse! You'll make sure from lecture to lecture that you fill in the blanks, so to speak, where Miss Anne Sallow struggles to comprehend new topics due to the gaps she will surely have on the fifth year syllabus."

"Very well, then. You want the first session of our study group to take place today, if I understand correctly."

"Precisely. One must strike while the iron is hot! Ehe! I checked your schedules - none of you have classes this morning. It seems an ideal time to be in the Library studying."

Anne felt her stomach tighten in a violent spasm; she gently placed both hands on the front of her white shirt to cup her flat belly, telling herself in her head that she was hungry from skipping breakfast, even though she knew full well that it had been a genuine gag reflex at the mere imagining of sitting next to her brother in the Library.

"Ideal. Ideal indeed." She said without managing to hide the chill in her voice.

"Is something wrong, Miss Smith? You seem very nervous, child."

Anne opened her mouth without being able to utter a sound, momentarily lowering her guard and letting her fragile, anxious state of mind shine through. For a moment she considered confiding in Professor Weasley. After all, she knew her family: there was no mystery as to how fucked up the Smiths were - it was plain for all to see how far from Helga Hufflepuff her descendants had strayed over the centuries, embracing revolting ideals about blood status while getting used to living in the most lavish opulence. Probably Professor Weasley, who was a witch as clever as she was empathetic, already imagined how difficult it might have been for her to grow up as a squib in a family of high lineage such as hers.

Why not tell her about the abuse she had suffered during her childhood and how uncomfortable it made her feel to be around her older brother?

Anne closed her mouth, stubbornly wearing a mask of indifference - the same mask she had worn so many times since she had accepted her fate upon descending into the Map Chamber with Professor Fig.

The façade of the lone protector, that of the Keeper.

A senseless shame, an ill sense of decency took hold of her, preventing her from laying bare her frailties to the old lioness - preventing her from asking for help.

She took care of herself. She was Slytherin.

"I only confide in Ominis." She thought proudly without noticing how ironic it was that the Heir of Slytherin had always been the only person on the face of Earth who could see her without actually being able to lay his eyes on her.

"Miss Smith? Is everything all right?" The Deputy Headmistress asked again, sounding genuinely concerned.

"No worries, Professor. I'm just a little groggy from not having breakfast, but no need to worry: I'm ready to get started with tutoring."

"Excellent! I will notify the students to be tutored right away."

Professor Weasley picked up her wand, which was resting in front of her on the desk, and with an elegant flick of her wrist she conjured up two scrolls and a quill, which began to swiftly write first on one slip of parchment and then on the other before the two letters folded in on themselves and fluttered out of the classroom like little paper birds.

Anne curtsied to the Deputy Headmistress, making an effort to respect etiquette, then turned and exited the Transfiguration Classroom just as a flood of excited first-year students entered to take their places at their desks. After closing the oak door behind her, the Troll Slayer leaned against it and sighed heavily, running her hands through her long ginger hair. Then she drew Salazar Slytherin's wand from the pocket of her long skirt to write an enchanted note in turn and let Ominis know where he could come to find her after the tedious chat with Headmaster Black was over.

"I would rather start with History of Magic since it's such a tedious subject. The sooner I catch up on that class, the sooner I can get down to the ones I like best!" Anne Sallow said cheerfully.

She held the Field Guide in her hands, eagerly flipping through it without being able to tear her sweet dark eyes away from those colourful pages that seemed to contain infinite knowledge. She was sitting with her back straight and her legs crossed on one of the comfortable green armchairs placed in a circle around the elegant table positioned right in the centre of the Library's ground floor. To her right sat Anne Smith, almost lying back in her armchair, sprawled in a position that was anything but elegant and ladylike as she stared sulkily into the void.

The lovely ginger had chosen to occupy the most exposed and least secluded table in the entire Library, the one that was most comfortable and most informal - it almost looked like a table more suited to five o'clock tea than a study session.

It had been ten minutes by now that the Slytherin girls had been waiting for Samuel Smith to begin the day's tutoring, and the Keeper did nothing but sigh as she lost herself in thought; she had to make a great effort to return to the present moment and answer her friend.

"That's fine with me. Since History of Wandlore is a topic that doesn't directly tie into the timeline of Wizarding World history, I'd say you can study the Goblin Rebellion of 1752 on your own today while I make sure the idiot - ah, my - I mean, Samuel! I will make sure that the teachings on Wandlore at Durmstrang were comprehensive."

She drew her wand from her Slytherin robes and tapped the Field Guide, which in response began to independently and rapidly turn its pages until it opened at one exact juncture, projecting three-dimensional images of what appeared to be a fierce battle between goblins and wizards. Given the tension that was eating away at the Troll Slayer from the inside, her gesture and manner of speech were vaguely aggressive, and Anne Sallow, who until a moment before had smiled happily at the idea of having finally returned to her studies after a whole year spent suffering in bed, turned to her friend with an air of surprise and concern.

"Something wrong, Anne?"

"Oh, no! No, no, forgive me, I'm just distracted!" The Keeper hastened to reply. "By the way, thank you for bringing these back to our dormitory yesterday." She said touching the right sleeve of her Slytherin robes, bringing up the first topic she could think of to shift their attention to something other than her state of mind.

"No problem!"

Anne Sallow shifted her gaze to the enchanted tome in her hands, then turned back to her friend, tormenting her soft lips with her teeth, unable to suppress the desire of her unrequited love-sick heart to give voice to her curiosity.

"Yesterday you and Ominis rushed off in all haste... He was so gallant to duel in your place! Afterwards you retired to your private chambers?"

"Ah, yes. One day I will show you the Room of Requirement too. We must be very careful though because Professor Weasley is breathing down my neck - she wants me to use my private chambers dutifully."

The fair ginger leaned back against the cushioned back of her armchair, hugging herself as if she felt cold or scared of something. Anne Sallow glanced at her thinking that she suddenly looked thinner and paler than usual. She lowered her gaze, sadly thinking that she had made her uncomfortable with her questions about Ominis, and she felt compelled to say something. Gently, she leaned over the armrest of her chair and held out a hand to her, smiling when she saw her friend cast an absent-minded glance at it and then return the gesture without hesitation.

"Anne, thank you for agreeing to tutor me. Our teachers don't know the trouble they've gotten into pairing us up - we're going to turn this study group into shambles and have so much fun! Aha!"

Still holding hands, the Slytherin girls looked into each other's eyes and began to giggle, the sound of their laughter echoing through the deserted Library and causing Madam Scribner's tongue to click in reproach.

"I'm very glad to be doing this together with you too, Anne. Too bad my brother will be in the way."

The pythonesses pulled themselves together and sat down composedly in their armchairs.

Anne Sallow rested the Field Guide on her lap and brushed her fringes of chestnut hair out of her eyes as she began to raptly follow the events of the Goblin Rebellion of 1752 unfolding in miniature before her.

"Smith is late, isn't he?" She asked absentmindedly.

"Honestly? I'd have been surprised if he was on time. Fuck him, anyway. If he's not coming, that's for the best."

"Anne, forgive me if I take the liberty, but - well, I know you're very secretive. You have told me very little about your family, and the things you did share with me are truly sad. You never mentioned your brother to me... But you didn't seem very happy to see him yesterday."

Piercing dark eyes fixed themselves on Anne Sallow's face intent on absorbing the Field Guide's lesson when the Troll Slayer laid her gaze upon her, choosing her next words carefully. She opted for a curt reply, as it did not seem appropriate to further charge the situation with stress.

"My brother is the most stupid and insensitive person I know."

"I'm sorry you two don't get along. I'm very lucky in that regard - Sebastian and I have always loved each other very much. However, we went through some horrible things last year and our relationship had deteriorated to the point where we were almost strangers to each other." Anne Sallow stopped watching the interactive lesson of the Field Guide to rest a hand on her heart as she relived for a moment the darkest hours of Sebastian's depression. "I thought our relationship was doomed. Instead, when I looked into my brother's soul and shed light on certain events, my heart welcomed him back with love I did not think to still feel at all." She leaned back over the armrest of her armchair once more. "This is to say that, perhaps, there is hope for you to find a brother, too."

Anne Smith firmly shook her head.

"We are talking about completely different situations and people. Not -"

"Good morning, sister. Forgive my tardiness." Samuel Smith was silently approaching their table, smiling coolly.

He placed his leather satchel on the vacant chair next to his sister, then, without stopping smiling, turned to Anne Sallow and bowed deeply to her, clicking his heels and keeping his back straight like a proper student from Durmstrang.

The young lady blushed slightly - her eyes rested on the soft, smiling lips of the Hufflepuff boy, and when she realised they were lingering there longer than they should, she quickly lowered her head back to the Field Guide.

"P-pleased to meet you. My - my name is Anne Sallow and I'm a friend of - well, Anne's." She muttered awkwardly without looking up from her interactive lecture.

"Before you make silly remarks about this, Samuel - yes, we bear the same name." Anne Smith said sourly, suddenly sitting stiffly in her chair and intertwining her hands on the table in front of her.

She stared fixedly at an indefinite point to her left, avoiding looking at her brother with the same disdain as a nobleman trying to ignore a commoner as they pass them on the street, desperately trying to hide her distress behind a mask of indifferent annoyance.

"Why would I make silly remarks about something like that? I'm not five years old anymore." Samuel replied with a shrug and a perfectly neutral expression painted on his face as he sat down next to his sister.

She rolled up the sleeves of her uniform, exposing her thin forearms as if preparing to slap her brother in the face rather than question him about Wandlore. She then picked up Salazar Slytherin's wand again and pointed it at the Field Guide, twirling her wrist with nonchalance. Without Anne Sallow's interactive lesson being interrupted, a score of yellowed pages gently peeled away from the enchanted tome to rest in the hands of Anne Smith, who made another elegant wand gesture and stood watching intently as the pages of the Field Guide swirled in the air in front of her, merging into a single sheet on which a series of written questions were quickly forming.

"I'm having the Field Guide generate a test on the History of Wandlore to make sure your education is aligned with Hogwarts standards." Said the Troll Slayer through clenched teeth, casting a fleeting glance at her brother.

"All right. There should be no problem - Wandlore is taught with great care at Durmstrang, in fact I would say my education should be well above Hogwarts standard." He replied matter-of-factly as his usual barely-there smile curved the corners of his mouth up wards.

He took the sheet that his sister was handing him and diligently set about the assignment that the Field Guide had generated while Anne Sallow continued to study her lesson.

Silence fell.

Anne Smith sat a little more comfortably in her chair, straining to focus her attention on her friend - helping her from time to time to learn how to use the more advanced features of the enchanted encyclopaedia.

The huge clock on the Library wall marked ten to eleven when Samuel placed his quill on the table running a hand through his soft ginger hair.

"Well, I'd say that's it. Lastly, the test recommends an exercise: to examine a wand and identify its components." He said turning to his sister. "May I?" He then asked, reaching towards her wand resting on the table.

Anne Smith swiftly grasped Salazar Slytherin's wand - her pale hand closed jealously around the snakeskin hilt mounted on the ebony spiral as she made it disappear into the left pocket of her robes.

"Anne, can you show him your wand? Join in the exercise, so we can do a little practice as well in preparation for the upcoming lecture by Professor Binns." She asked with ostentatious nonchalance, turning towards her friend.

"Oh, certainly. Here you go."

Anne Sallow handed her wand to Samuel, propping it neatly on the palms of her hands. Samuel brought his hands closer to hers, gently brushing them with his fingers as he leaned over the table to get a better look.

"Hmm, a dark, lumpy wood - pliant flexibility, I'd say. Vine Wood, by any chance?"

Anne Sallow took a while to answer, momentarily distracted by the hands of the Hufflepuff boy wrapping around her smaller ones - barely brushing against hers. She seemed to be hypnotised such was the focus reflected in her sweet dark eyes as she watched their hands joined together, and when she found the strength to look away and stare into the eyes of the lad, she blushed blatantly.

"Y-yes, that's right! Unicorn's hair core - ten and a half inches!"

Samuel smirked, holding the gaze of the bashful young lady on the other side of the table.

"I should have been the one to try and figure that out." He said, slowly retracting his hands.

"Oh! Sorry! I got caught up in - Oh, forgive me!"

"That's quite alright, Miss Sallow. ...Or may I call you, Anne?"

Anne Smith pretended not to mind what was going on, but she noticed the way her friend continued to flush as she lowered her gaze to the floor, clutching her wand against her chest with a shuddering sigh while nodding softly. She also noticed the way the attractive lips of her brother had stretched into a smug smile as soon as her friend had begun to stutter - the expression on his face was the typical, arrogant one of a bloke who is aware that he has caught the eye of a girl.

"Stop this shite immediately. Say something, whatever bollocks, Anne!" Thought Anne Smith as her mouth opened to voice the first bollocks her brain had managed to conjure up in the meantime. "Ominis' wand also has unicorn hair at its core!"

Anne Sallow turned to her friend, nodding, cheerfully this time.

"And Sebastian's wand has a core of Thestral hair - powerful wand, your brother's, aye. Cypress wood, most flexible." Continued the Keeper without the slightest idea of what she was about to say next.

Samuel seemed about to speak again, but his sister went on, nervously drumming her fingers on the table.

"Don't you find it funny, Anne? Ominis and Sebastian - the unicorn and the Thestral. Both equines, aren't they? And yet so different, just like the two of them. They're such an odd couple, hehe!"

Anne Sallow laughed and leaned forward over the armrest of her armchair once more to move closer to her friend - her Slytherin robes opened slightly at the front and Samuel's eyes discreetly flicked to her chest with the focus typical of a lad trying to assess the likeness of a girl's breasts.

"I never noticed that, you know? You're right, it's actually quite funny, Anne!" She exclaimed cheerfully. "My brother's wand is very unusual, yes. But Ominis' is - is something special just like him! He -"

Samuel's expression suddenly became quizzical as he turned to look at the dreamy expression on Anne Sallow's face.

A moment later he was pulling his wand out of his Hufflepuff robes to hand it to the young lady in front of him, holding it with nonchalance in the palm of his right hand.

"Why don't you try examining mine?" He asked, smiling. "You can hold it in your hands if you'd like to." He added as if it were nothing.

But offering one's wand to another wizard or witch was an extremely intimate and meaningful gesture in the Wizarding World.

And Anne Smith knew it well.

So did Anne Sallow, who blushed and giggled embarrassedly as she barely touched Samuel's wand with her fingers without having the courage to pick it up.

"Hmm, this black, elegant wood is instantly recognisable. Ebony, no?"

He nodded and subtly moved his hand to brush hers with his fingers.

"Ebony. A wood that is exceedingly suitable for all forms of combative magic and for Transfiguration as well - which are Durmstrang's specialities. My wand made it very easy for me to settle there, believe it or not. What else can you tell me about it?"

"I - I would say it’s fourteen inches with unbending flexibility. And the way you duelled yesterday - I'd say the core could be dragon heartstrings?"

"Oh, you saw me duelling yesterday? Ah, if I had known you were watching me, I would have fought harder to win."

"Too bad Ominis slaughtered you. " The Keeper coldly interjected.

Samuel merely shrugged and put his wand away. Then his gaze fell on the hands of his sister, which clung so tightly to the table that her knuckles seemed about to snap at any moment.

"Your betrothed fights well, sister. As do all the members of his family after all. I would gladly challenge him to a duel again." He gestured towards her left hand. "I see you already wear an engagement ring - bearing the seal of his House, no less. Who would have thought my little sister would become a Gaunt? I certainly didn't."

Anne Smith removed her hands from the table to hysterically run them through her long ginger hair before tucking them into the pockets of her Slytherin robes.

"Speaking of duels, anyway." Samuel urged. "I see you have an ebony wand too - an elegant sixteen inch spiral. Remarkable. Dragon heartstrings?"

The Basilisk horn in the core of the ebony spiral hissed menacingly and indignantly as if insulted, and it vibrated ominously against the palm of Anne's hand inside her pocket.

"Looking at it, it feels like a most special wand. And since it's suited for combative magic, you really have no excuse to back out next time we're in Crossed Wands arena."

The lovely ginger was about to snap forward and scream in her brother's face that she would make him crawl like a worm if she ever faced him in a duel, but just then, the Library's front doors opened to let through a stream of students ready to get down to their studies after finishing their morning classes. Among them, Ominis was making his way through the crowd to advance towards the centre of the Library - the faithful chestnut stalk was pointed straight ahead to guide him to Anne.

"Oh, good. They'll be serving lunch in Great Hall shortly. I'm retiring to the Hufflepuff cellars to freshen up first. Good day, ladies - it's been a pleasure." Samuel said standing up. "Let me know when we are to meet again, sister." He told her before turning to Anne Sallow and bowing in the same gallant way he had greeted her when he arrived.

He walked away from the table offering a respectful nod to Ominis, who was marching in the opposite direction.

The Heir of Slytherin wore a most serious, sullen expression, and his betrothed immediately realised that something was wrong, forgetting everything else in the world for an instant to focus her attention entirely on him.

"Hello, Ominis! You got here just in time! Shall we pop into the common room before lunch?" Anne Sallow asked cheerfully.

"I would like to have a word with Anne in private, my friend. Go ahead in the meantime." The blind serpent replied in a seemingly calm tone of voice.

"Oh, all right. Do you want me to get your satchel, Anne? I have to pop up to our dormitory anyway."

Anne Smith nodded gratefully at her friend and made a hand gesture to bid her goodbye - panic and anxiety reflected in equal measure in her expressive dark eyes as she wondered in horror why her beloved Ominis was so serious. She remained sitting in her chair while the Heir of Slytherin took a seat next to her in the one that had been occupied until a few moments before by her hated brother.

"My love, what's wrong?" She asked leaning towards him. ''Did Headmaster Black overwhelm you with his usual repertoire of racist lines about blood purity?" She added to lighten the mood.

Ominis leaned towards her in turn, groping for her hands to intertwine his fingers with hers.

"I don't want to upset you, Anne. But I need you to listen to me carefully because we have a most unpleasant engagement ahead of us and we must be prepared."

"All right. I am listening, my love."

Ominis took a few moments to calm his breathing before continuing to speak. On the one hand he was sure he had the situation under control, but on the other he knew that what he was about to say would upset Anne terribly. So he took the time he needed to be certain he could speak calmly and sound reassuring, choosing his words carefully as his hands lovingly held hers.

"My love, this morning's was not one of the usual social calls where Headmaster Black smothers me with special attention out of respect for my father. He called for me today to warn me of a most unusual visit."

"Warn you? Unusual?"

"Yes, warn me. Headmaster Black is on our side, my love. In this instance, that imbecile will be of use to us."

Anne's rosy lips opened and closed a few times without her being able to formulate her questions.

"Forgive me, my love, I do not understand. He is on our side for what? What did he warn you about?"

Ominis felt a cold sweat pour down his neck, wetting the collar of his shirt.

"He warned me about a most peculiar request my father made - he joined us mid-morning in the Headmaster's study."

"Your father is here?!"

"Yes, my love. Father is here. And we are both invited to join them for lunch."

Anne began crossing and uncrossing her slender legs in a nervous, hysterical gesture as her shoulders sagged downwards. Then she straightened her back and smiled, speaking in a soft tone of voice.

"Come now, my love. Don't worry. You always tell me that I have to learn to live with our high standing and cope with the fact that we will sometimes find ourselves in this kind of unpleasant predicament. I'm sure we'll survive a formal lunch with your father and Headmaster Black, even if they'll make our ears bleed with their fucking ramblings."

"Anne, Father will not be alone."

Anne cocked her head to the side quizzically.

"Did your mother accompany him?"

Ominis leaned down to gently kiss the hands of his witty girl, then spoke in a velvety whisper that he hoped sounded reassuring despite the dreadful words he was about to utter.

"Marvolo is here."

Chapter Text

Anne became aware that she was holding her breath only when she felt a twinge in her chest caused by her emptied lungs that had reached the point where they could no longer sustain the strain they were being subjected to. As she inhaled a shuddering breath, she also realised her mouth was hanging open and she slowly closed it again, trying to ignore the unpleasant burning sensation she felt running down her throat due to the sudden lack of salivation, which had stopped the instant Ominis had uttered the name of his hated brother.

Marvolo Gaunt.

The monster who every now and then managed to slip into the Keeper's nightmares like nothing and no one else could.

Not Uncle Solomon with his brutal violence, nor Victor Rookwood with his mocking grin, nor Ranrok with his draconic body: the beast who had managed to hide in the folds of her mind to suddenly jump out from time to time and haunt her, was her future brother-in-law - the despicable, filthy man who had tried to take her against her will.

"I should have killed you, brother. You better watch your back - it doesn't matter if it's tomorrow or a hundred years from now, I swear I will kill you with my own hands and take your woman as my own, cripple." Those had been the words spoken by Marvolo Gaunt in the ear of his younger brother after he had been stopped and defeated before he could commit impure acts to the harm of Anne Smith, and that veiled threat inevitably triggered surges of anguish and terror in her even after several months had passed.

"Your father must be thick in the head! He has to be! That he was an arsehole we already knew, but this - this is insanity!" Anne violently shook her head, whipping the air around her with her long ginger hair. "How could he show up at the castle with - with that monster in tow! After what he did to me! What does it mean, Ominis?!"

"My love, lower your voice. Come, let's get out of here - let me tell you everything."

Ominis made to get up, gently pulling Anne's hands towards him to invite her to imitate his gesture. The lovely ginger, seized by a sudden surge of panic, had raised her voice, attracting the curious glances of the many students who were taking their places in the Library all around her. To Ominis' ears came the mischievous whispers of the onlookers who were already intent on wondering if he and his fair maiden were quarrelling - bored students perpetually looking for juicy gossip to share in front of the fireplace in their respective common rooms.

"Ominis, I - I can't breathe!" Anne gasped without being able to control the tone of her voice as she rose from her chair.

Ominis felt a twinge of pain at the level of his heart as he took a step towards her to wrap his left arm around her waist and gently guide her towards the exit of the Library.

"I was deluding myself that if I remained calm she would react more composedly, but evidently I was wrong." The Heir of Slytherin thought sadly as he struggled to push back the tears that threatened to form in the corners of his blind blue eyes. "My love, lean on to me. Now let us leave the Library and talk in a quieter place."

"Ominis! Why is your brother here? Your father - how - how could he?!"

"My love, hold me close and lower your voice. Now we'll get out of here and I'll explain everything to you."

Anne clutched at Ominis, hugging him tightly in the middle of the Library as she struggled to control the beating of her racing heart. With gentle, reassuring strokes, he slowly began rubbing her back with his hands to help her calm down, aware that soon Madam Scribner would get up from her desk to come and check what was going on.

"My love, are you crying?" He softly asked letting his thin lips graze her left temple.

She shook her head weakly and stepped back taking him by the hand.

"I - I calmed down. Let us leave the Library, please."

Just then, a chubby girl wearing Gryffindor robes placed a heavy leather satchel on the table next to the Slytherin couple and then noisily moved the green chairs around to make her way towards Anne.

"Shh! Cressida! You're the usual troublemaker!"

"She is indeed as clumsy as they come!"

A gaggle of Ravenclaw students glowered at the chubby lioness who raised her hands showing her palms in apology before turning towards the Troll Slayer.

"Hello, Anne! Are you heading out?" She whispered cheerfully to her friend. "Hello, Gaunt!" She then added turning to Ominis with the same light-heartedness.

The Heir of Slytherin called upon all his self-control to avoid dismissing Cressida Blume with disdain and nervously ran a hand through his soft blond hair, straining to smile as he repeated to himself that the young lady was a friend of Anne's and it was not proper to snap at her no matter how ill-timed he thought her interruption was.

"Hello, Cressida. Yes, I was just leaving. Sit here, if you like." Anne whispered politely - the faint tremor in her voice a sole clue that her head was elsewhere.

"What a pity, Anne! I wanted to ask you - well, a favour, shall we say. I know you have been charged with the tutoring of -"

"Of my brother, yes. I suppose you want me to know how handsome you think he is, too."

Cressida looked at her friend quizzically as if she couldn't explain either that kind of reply, let alone the hostility with which the Slytherin girl was eyeing her. She blinked a few times - thick round glasses partly concealing the disbelief in her curious dark eyes.

"Actually, no. I just wanted to ask if you could help me with my studying too since you're willing to help Miss Sallow and Mr Smith. You know, I'm a complete failure when it comes to Potions but - well, Garreth loves that bloody subject, so - so, well, if I were to improve maybe we'd have more things to discuss and he'd finally notice me after so many years." Cressida cast a glance at Ominis and held her breath as if she had just realised she had been talking about her private matters in front of him. "I mean, would you mind helping me out, Anne? You're brilliant at Potions!"

"Ah, of course. Not a problem at all, Cressida. Maybe another time though, agreed? I'm in a hurry right now."

"Sure thing, Anne! I'll let you lovebirds enjoy your lunch! Are you dining at the castle or will your handsome knight take you for a stroll in Hogsmeade?"

Anne snorted and opened her mouth to retort dryly, then remembered that none of the anxiety and anger she felt was caused by Cressida and that it would not be fair to vent negativity on her. She bit her tongue, then forced herself to stretch her rosy lips into a smile, hoping the Gryffindor girl wouldn't perceive it as forced.

"Bye, Cressida. See you soon." She whispered, gently grabbing the arm Ominis was holding out to her and heading towards the exit of the Library without adding anything else.

Once out of the reading room, she walked briskly towards the richly decorated marble fountain in the centre of the vibrant Central Hall. Trembling blatantly, she sat on the edge of the fountain and crossed her slender legs in one elegant motion as she leaned over to dip both hands into the cool water gushing behind her back. Then she brought her wet fingers to her forehead and rubbed her temples with slow movements, closing her eyes while breathing deeply.

"Why is your brother here, Ominis?" She asked once she had regained her composure.

Ominis had sat down next to her, holding his head slightly tilted to the side as he was wont to do when trying to focus to best detect the noises around him.

"Father came to visit the castle with Marvolo in tow not out of disrespect for you, Anne. I think his motives are insensitive and idiotic, of course, but I assure you he is well aware of how much Marvolo has hurt you. That is partly what drives him to be here with him today, believe it or not." He paused to take her left hand and entwine his long fingers with her still wet ones. "Father wants to simultaneously discipline and humiliate Marvolo - time wasted as far as I'm concerned, obviously."

"He wants to... humiliate him?"

"Yes. Father has always put Marvolo on a pedestal over these long years - fiercely proud of his violence and his devotion to the ideals of the ‘illustrious’ patriarch of our lineage. But now, at last, he sees him for what he really is: a wild git. Marvolo is no longer a young lad, yet he has not grown the slightest self-awareness and continues to behave as if his every action can go unpunished forever." Ominis snorted as a disgusted frown distorted his handsome features. "For the likes of my father or Headmaster Black, it is just as important to maintain decorum and a gentlemanly façade as it is to remain true to their ideals concerning blood status. They are noblemen included in the highest ranks of society, not criminals like Harlow, nor fallen aristocrats like Rookwood. It is vital for them to keep their skeletons firmly locked in their cupboards where no one can see them."

Anne nodded weakly, letting her long ginger hair fall in front of her face to hide from the curious stares of the students passing by all around her.

"It was - it was what your brother tried to do to me last year that made your father open his eyes, wasn't it? That's why he stripped Marvolo of his rights as first born." She asked in a low voice. "And how does he wish to humiliate him now? To what end?"

"Marvolo has been stripped of his rights, yes, but his blood is still important for the purpose of carrying on the Gaunt line. I, however young, am already betrothed to a pureblood witch of highest lineage - which is why I have been chosen as the future Heir to the title." Ominis suddenly smiled and his blind blue eyes lit up with a sweet, indecipherable emotion. "When the time comes, I will give my Lady many children." He added in a velvety whisper.

Anne finally managed to smile in turn and gently rested her head on his shoulder.

"Many children, eh? Lord Gaunt is ambitious..." She said, tenderly squeezing his hand still entwined in hers.

"More like Lord Gaunt is hopelessly in love with his future Lady." He replied, returning the gesture with the same tenderness before turning serious again and continuing his speech. "As much as our union is eagerly anticipated by our families and as much as the odds of us producing heirs are high, my father cannot rely on me alone. It is his duty to ensure that my brothers contribute to the endeavour, so to speak. Magnus and Servilius are unlikely to be up to the task. Whether Father likes it or not, he needs Marvolo."

"What do you mean? Why can't Magnus and Servilius have children?"

Ominis sighed in a way that seemed to conceal embarrassment as a slight blush coloured his cheeks.

"These are hardly topics fit for your ears, my love. Let's say Servilius has physical impediments that make it difficult for him to pleasure a woman while Magnus has... ‘mental impediments’ that make it difficult for him to be pleasured by a woman. Be that as it may, it doesn't matter. The point is that my father needs Marvolo - he needs him to marry and sire offsprings with pure blood to contribute to secure the lineage."

Anne suppressed a gag and held her breath as she tried to banish from her mind the memory of the pledge that had initially bound her hand to Marvolo Gaunt before Ominis managed to prevent the contract between their families from being signed.

"Your father wants to discipline Marvolo in the hope of straightening him out so he can take a wife?"

"Precisely. I stress once again that this is a waste of time if you ask me, and that the conclusions my father has come to are idiotic no matter how sensible the reasoning behind them. You see, Father wants to humiliate Marvolo and teach him what it is like to make a living without the protection and comfort that noble status grants him - he wants to show him what it would be of him if he were to be completely shunned and disowned by his family. He wants to force him to find himself a lowly, strenuous job - a peasant's job with no prospects."

"A job? Here at Hogwarts?! No, please don't tell me that..."

Ominis nodded and his thin lips curved downwards as he felt Anne lift her head from his shoulder and fidget at his side.

"That's right, Father asked Headmaster Black to remove Mr Moon from the role of castle groundskeeper to offer the job to Marvolo. Needless to say, old Phineas is not at all happy with this prospect. He does not care much for Mr Moon - he would cut him off in an instant to do his best friend a favour, but to hire a pureblood of high lineage as caretaker is an outrage! Having a Gaunt running around the castle sweeping up dust and pulling weeds from the garden would be beyond embarrassing." The blind serpent paused briefly to make sure his fair ginger was still listening to him and not lost in thought. "Father is too blinded by anger to realise this, but Headmaster Black on the other hand is clear-headed enough not to go along with it - even if he doesn't know how to refuse without insulting his friend. That's why I told you earlier that the halfwit will be useful to us in this instance."

"We cannot allow Marvolo to be given the opportunity to work here, Ominis!"

Anne had raised her voice again. She tried to clear her throat to prevent it from drying out from fear as had happened earlier and dipped her hands into the fountain yet again to wet her face and regain her composure.

The prospect of Marvolo Gaunt becoming the new caretaker of the castle was simply horrifying, unthinkable!

Anne pictured how her life at Hogwarts would become if that oppressive monster was free to roam the corridors and the halls of the castle as if nothing were wrong; she thought of all the opportunities he would have had to follow her around and spy on her laying his filthy eyes on her form, of all the opportunities he would have had to torment her and Ominis, and again of the outspoken, cruel threat he had whispered in the ear of his younger brother as a challenge.

"Ominis! We cannot allow Marvolo to come and live here! We must prevent that at all costs!"

Making an instinctive gesture, the lovely ginger rose to her feet, and the Heir of Slytherin was quick to take her by the hand and gently pull her towards him to sit on his lap.

"Shh - Anne, come here, my sweet love." He said, holding her close to him.

She turned towards him and hid her face in the hollow of his neck, focusing on the strong muscles in his chest and on the scent of Marseille soap emanating from his uniform. When he felt her relax in his arms, Ominis smiled softly to himself and continued to hold her on his lap in the middle of the Central Hall, ignoring the embarrassed giggles of a small group of third-year Slytherin girls standing not far from them.

"Of course we have to prevent Marvolo from coming to live here, my love."

"…How are we going to do that?"

"As I told you earlier, we're invited to eat lunch with my father and Headmaster Black -"

Anne lifted her head from Ominis' chest and shook it violently, making her long ginger hair whip the air around her like a long-haired dog shaking off its fur after taking a dive in the water.

"I don't know if I feel up to seeing that monster and sitting at a table with him! Please, my love, tell me there is a way around it!"

"Anne, my brother will stay at the castle with Mr Moon to do some sort of 'training' and see if he can be up to the job. He will not be joining us for lunch - if we are lucky, we will only meet him briefly when we return."

"Ah... Alright, then. I – I think I can do this."

Ominis smiled sincerely and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.

"Of course you can do this, my love. We will both make an effort to be charming and persuasive so that my father will re-evaluate his choice. He and Headmaster Black love the Three Broomsticks - it reminds them of the good old days when they were lads. Sometimes they get a secluded table reserved on the second floor. We'll join them and - with the help of a few mugs of Butterbeer - we'll click our forked tongues to steer the conversation in the direction we like best."

"I am not as good as you, Ominis. I can't control my emotions -"

"Anne, some things can be learned. With some effort, but they can be learned. If I managed to harden my shell enough to endure the horrors of my family and live with them on a daily basis, it was not because of any 'inborn merit'. It was because of Aunt Noctua and her teachings."

Anne looked at Ominis with sudden curiosity - astonishment painted on her delicate features and reflected in her expressive dark eyes.

"Aunt Noctua?"

"That's right. She has always been very sensitive and she has suffered greatly at the hands of our family - where sensitivity is not tolerated and, in fact, is considered a flaw worse than my blindness! When I was but a wee-lad, she realised that we were very similar and she looked after me. If I have not become a complete sociopath, one way or another, it is because of the love my aunt showed me when no one else did."

"And how did she teach you to live with those awful people like nothing happened despite the abuse and cruelty?"

Ominis smiled again and blew out a deep breath. Then he seemed to get lost in thought for a moment and a weak laugh slipped out of his mouth.

"First, she taught me to always keep in mind that bad things don't just happen to me - one shouldn't consider oneself special because of what happens to them but because of how they deal with it, so one shouldn't feel sorry for oneself. Then, on a practical level, to deal with situations that cause anxiety, one needs to build a happy place in their heart and mind. One needs to generate positive energy that one can draw on if a person or situation takes the air out of their lungs."

"A – a happy place?"

"Precisely."

Anne tilted her head to the side thoughtfully and remained silent until Ominis stood up, forcing her to imitate his gesture as he took her hands to bring them to his mouth and kiss them.

"Let me build a happy place for you now, witty girl. You know, your friend actually had a great idea: in the time we have before our engagement with the two old idiots, we'd take a stroll through Hogsmeade and loosen up a bit. You love it when your filthy rich Lord buys you nice things, do you not? Vain viper that you are."

Anne's face suddenly lit up in earnest and her laughter rang in the sensitive ears of the blind serpent like the sweetest heavenly music.

"Ah, I see you have already cheered up at the mere thought of me spending money on you."

"Oh, your pockets had better be overflowing with galleons, M'lordship! " She whispered to him, rising on her tiptoes to gently rub her nose with his.

A humming sound of appreciation vibrated in Ominis' throat as his thin lips curved upwards in a playful smile.

"Vain and silly, that's what you are, Anne."

An amused smile lit up Ominis' face as he slowly walked along the stone path that connected Hogwarts Castle to Hogsmeade village.

The sky was bright and the temperature not too warm; the singing of birds and crickets were providing a pleasant accompaniment to a peaceful late-summer day while the air was permeated with the scent of wild herbs. Despite all the pleasurable stimuli that surrounded Ominis, his mind seemed only able to focus on the gentle touch of Anne's hand that was clinging to his left arm, absent-mindedly rubbing his taut biceps. The light breeze blowing across the countryside tousled her long ginger hair, wafting her delicate perfume of roses and clean laundry to Ominis' nostrils, who greedily inhaled her scent as if for him there was no sweeter thing on the face of the Earth.

"Vain? Perhaps. Silly? Certainly not!" Anne huffed without ceasing smiling in an overly cloy manner as she greeted Sophronia Franklin and her little gaggle, waving her left hand being careful that the diamond dust of her engagement ring sparkled in all its glory in the sunlight. "I'm just showing off my ring. You wouldn't have bought me such a nice one if you didn't want me to brag about it, would you?"

A contented murmur went up Ominis' throat betraying his own pride as he tried his best to roll his blind blue eyes up to the sky in a gesture of mock exasperation. Meanwhile Anne was fanning her left hand in the air once more to ensure that another small group of young witches could admire her signet ring and reciprocate her greeting as they silently envied her.

The Heir of Slytherin and his betrothed walked in silence for a few minutes, letting the warm sunrays kiss their faces. Just as they passed the entrance to the Forbidden Forest, Anne sighed in a way that suggested to Ominis that she was holding her breath for some reason, and he tilted his head towards her, focusing intently to try and understand her state of mind.

"My love? May I touch your mind with mine?" He asked at last in a velvety whisper as loving as it was hesitant.

Anne turned towards him without stopping walking, barely slowing her pace to look intently at his princely features.

Ominis despised Legilimency: he considered it a violation of other people's privacy and had always refused to resort to it to the point of suppressing a skill that for his kin was as instinctive as speaking Parseltongue.

He had lost his self-control only once. With Anne Smith.

He had let his guard down and their minds had joined together during the physical act of love. It had been a sweet, intimate mind-sharing, deeply wanted by both of them, and that circumstance had made the Heir of Slytherin re-evaluate Legilimency: if consensual, mind-reading could be a most beautiful experience.

At least that was the case when it came to him and Anne.

"Of course you can touch my mind with yours." She whispered back as a slight blush flushed her cheeks.

An instant later, Ominis' mind was gently caressing Anne's. She felt a pleasant tingle at the back of her head as his velvety voice spoke to her without him moving his lips.

"You are positively shameless, Anne! Are you still gloating over the comments those girls made about your engagement ring? Hmm, I can feel your glee as bright as the sun's rays on my skin."

"And, per chance, am I feeling your male pride swelling at the idea that I fancy your ring? Heavens, Gaunt! Am I the frivolous one?"

Her delicate, feminine laughter mingled with his deep, velvety one as much in the air as in their heads.

After ten minutes spent walking silently side by side, the fair ginger did her best to lay her emotions completely bare before the Heir of Slytherin.

"You wanted to make sure I was fine?"

The latent anxiety in her poured into Ominis' mind like a tidal wave suddenly washing over a beach.

He did not flinch. He knew it was perfectly normal for Anne to feel that burning anguish at the thought of his brother.

He let her feel his latent emotions, and her steps came to a halt on the stone path as her mind was set ablaze with blackest hatred and the smouldering wrath of the Heir of Slytherin.

"This is how I feel about Marvolo, my love." He let her feel one last surge of his anger before tempering his emotions and gently caressing her mind with his usual gentle, reassuring aura. "I'm not worried about today, though, Anne. What we are about to face is not a threat, just a nuisance."

"You are so... calm, in control of your emotions."

"Because I know I am in control of the situation. The rest of my emotions are now superfluous - wasted energy. Headmaster Black is on our side and I am perfectly capable of talking sense into my father now that I have his approval." He paused to let his chestnut stalk guide him to the grass to his right where he knelt to pick up a daffodil whilst removing its stem. "You trust me, do you not?" He asked, turning back to Anne to place the flower behind her left ear - thin lips curving playfully upwards as he felt her blush through their mental connection.

"Of course I trust you, my love."

"Then let us enjoy the rest of our promenade." He closed his eyes and made sure to make her feel his resolve and confidence loud and clear in order to ease her anxiety. "You know, it pleased me to feel how happy my ring makes you. Today I will gift you something that is just as meaningful. After all, if you're happy, I'm happy too, witty girl."

Anne, vain and frivolous, felt an immediate surge of delight mixed with curiosity and trepidation and threw herself in Ominis' arms, standing on her tiptoes to plant a trail of kisses on his jaw - to his immense pleasure.

"Will you get me another ring?"

"Think bigger. Literally bigger."

"Bigger? A necklace!"

Anne's innocent excitement at the idea of receiving a gift coupled with the way she was hugging him and showering him with kisses suddenly made Ominis feel a thrill of excitement that was anything but pure, and he took a step back to offer his arm to his sweetheart and invite her to continue the stroll.

"Much bigger." He said, running his right hand through his soft blond hair as he prayed to Merlin that his cock would immediately ‘fall back into line’ without attracting the attention of bystanders.

"Much bigger? Ah! A pony?"

"Bigger."

"Bigger than a pony?!" Her sweet dark eyes sparkled with curiosity as Anne continued walking towards the village, unconsciously quickening her pace.

"Well, actually I don't know if it's bigger than a pony. You know, it's hard for me to have an idea of the size of things being blind."

Slowly, Ominis' mind withdrew from Anne's; she sighed softly as if she could still feel the influence of his calm and confident aura, then she leaned her head on his shoulder, resting her gaze on the lush nature around them.

"Do you want to know what swells my pride out of all proportion, my love?"

"Mmm? Let's hear it."

"You want me so badly, Gaunt. Desperately, dare I say it! Heavens, you get hard in the middle of a promenade just from hearing me laugh!"

Ominis' cheeks suddenly grew hot, but not from the sun's rays.

There was a delicate, frivolous giggle followed by a weak pinch that the fair ginger gave to the arm of the Heir of Slytherin with absolute impudence.

"Did you think I wouldn't sense that, Gaunt?"

And his lips curved inexorably upwards.

It was with trepidation that Anne crossed the narrow stone bridge that gave access to Hogsmeade, expecting Ominis to guide her towards the busiest streets of the village to stop in front of one of the most popular shops favoured by young witches. Gladrags Wizardwear, Madam Snelling's Tress Emporium, or even Ceridwen's Cauldrons: there were so many possibilities! Not to mention that Ominis, who liked - quite a lot! - to play mysterious when it came to surprising her, might well have been intent on accompanying her to Brood and Peck to get her a pony. However, the chestnut stalk led them without hesitation to the back roads southeast of the village.

Anne found herself staring at an elegant dark wooden sign placed at the entrance of a shop she had never noticed before - perhaps because of the lack of shop windows. In fact, from the outside, it did not look like a shop at all: it was a big house with grey stone walls and a small side porch made of the same wood as the insignia, which seemed to be set up for entertaining refreshments of sorts.

Hanging on either side of the entrance door, Anne recognised a pair of wrought iron sculptures: the one on the right represented a treble clef, the one on the left a bass clef.

"Curious." She thought to herself as she felt another shiver of excitement run down her spine. "Flutes and Lutes." She read as she laid her eyes on the sign again.

Ominis made to enter, making sure Anne, still clutching his arm, did the same.

The waiting room of the shop was fancy - truly fancy - of the kind one would expect to find inside an establishment where customers regularly came to spend large sums of money. There was fine furniture, Victorian sofas cushioned with soft pads, and even an enchanted trolley on which a lovely ceramic teapot awaited a bored customer to serve themselves a fine cup of tea together with some pastries.

What caught Anne's attention above all else was the wooden pedestal to the right of the comfortable sofa on which she and Ominis were seated; on top of the pedestal, a huge enchanted viola was autonomously playing a slow waltz. The instrument was of excellent manufacture and it was clear from the way it played that it was not a mere waiting room ornament conjured up or transfigured by the shop owner, but a genuine piece of craftsmanship - handmade and then charmed with utmost care and artistry.

"Oh, this must be a musical instrument shop!" Realised the lovely ginger as her rosy lips stretched into a radiant smile.

Just as she was about to ask her gallant companion for confirmation of her intuition, a dark-skinned girl who seemed to be barely a year younger than them stepped forward from the back of the shop smiling politely.

"Welcome to Flutes and Lutes." She chirped, making a small curtsy to the Slytherin couple. "How may I be of service to you?" She asked before settling her eyes intently on the new patrons.

It was at that moment that the young lady realised that her clients were Hogwarts students about her age, and she frowned with suspicion as if she hadn't expected that kind of clientele at all.

"Mother? " She called, turning towards the interior of the shop.

Ominis rose from the couch and invited Anne to do the same as the sound of light footsteps moving across the wooden floor announced the arrival of a middle-aged woman with long brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail.

The shop owner glanced quickly at her customers and dwelled first on their Slytherin robes then on Ominis' signet ring. She arched her eyebrows and nodded briefly to her daughter.

"Let's handle this sale together, Jane." She told her before turning to Ominis curtseying. "Good day and welcome to Flutes and Lutes. How may I be of service to you my young Lord?"

"Good day to you." Replied the Heir of Slytherin bowing in turn - tall and dignified like a true gentleman. "I am here to treat my betrothed to a gift. They say that a gentleman should continue to ardently court his fair maiden especially after a betrothal has been signed. Heaven forbid that this young witch should have second thoughts before walking down the aisle - or worse, that the Lord her father should decide I am not good enough for her."

The woman laughed heartily as Anne's face turned redder than her hair.

"I am indeed in the presence of a young Lord, my word! Purebloods used to duel when pledges of marriage were to be made, didn't they?"

"Oh, indeed - I have fought for her, but one can never be sure enough of their standing, don't you agree m'lady? Please help me lighten my pouch of its coins."

The middle-aged witch laughed again and smiled in a way that lit up her tired dark eyes as she made an elegant gesture with her left hand to invite Anne and Ominis to follow her into the adjoining room. The fair ginger advanced, clutching the arm of her fiancé yet again without stopping blushing.

She loved him. Merlin, she loved him so!

Charming, kind, always attentive to her needs, but above all intelligent - his sarcastic, biting sense of humour never failed to make her laugh and excite her.

The interior of the shop was as spacious and refined as its waiting room, and housed a large number of beautifully crafted musical instruments neatly displayed on wall shelves or small stages placed on the floor depending on their size. Anne's gaze fell on the violins and lutes resting on the shelves all around her, vibrating with magic to the point that they seemed on the verge of coming to life at any moment to play the most glorious of triumphal marches of their own accord. Then her gaze lingered to her right where sunlight filtering through the open window illuminated a magnificent grand piano that seemed to catalyse all the energy in the room.

The rosy lips of the Slytherin girl formed a graceful ‘o’ - astonishment and awe painted in equal measure on her face as she approached the piano to brush her fingers over the ivory keyboard that created a sharp contrast in colour with the inky-black wood.

"This pianoforte is magnificent." She said with an edge to her voice.

"This is one of my latest creations, I am very proud of it." The shop owner approached Anne, staring proudly at the grand piano. ''Ebony Makassar enchanted to perpetually maintain its polish whilst repelling dust and wood mites."

"And the tuning?"

The older witch looked with delighted amazement at Anne, nodding slowly.

"That is a question from a true musician. It is also spellbound to perpetually maintain the tuning, yes - this requires quite a complex set of charms, being a grand piano! That increases the price of the instrument exponentially, naturally." She turned to Ominis, addressing him with an air that was verging on confidential. "I take it the young lady plays the piano?"

"Yes. Although, sadly, my ears have never been delighted by her music. But according to her, she is quite talented. I will admit that I partly want to treat her to this instrument in order to test the truthfulness of her bluster."

Mother and daughter laughed heartily at yet another classy jest from the Heir of Slytherin as Anne found herself blushing anew as she nervously shifted the weight of her thin body from one foot to the other.

"I - I was forced to learn how to play this instrument to perfection because I have attended Muggle society drawing rooms for - well, for quite some time." She said as if she felt compelled to explain and justify herself. "Because - well, because I -"

The girl who answered to the name of Jane stiffened and brought her hands to her long black curls to twirl them nervously around her fingers as a sad, sympathetic expression was suddenly painted on the face of her mother.

"No one doubts your talent, young lady. Would you like to try the instrument and play something for us?" She said as if she wanted to abruptly change the subject.

Only in that instant did Anne realise that there could only be one reason for that dark-skinned girl to be in her mother's shop to assist her with sales instead of being at Hogwarts.

She was a squib.

The Keeper felt incredibly insensitive for not having guessed this earlier, and she was tempted to apologise and bring up the subject again despite the obvious desire of the other ladies to quickly change the topic of conversation. Before she could utter a single word, Ominis stepped to her side and placed his left hand on the small of her back, speaking in his usual calm, velvety voice.

"Play something for me, my love. If you'll like the sound of this pianoforte once you've tried it, you might as well consider it yours already."

"How gallant your Lord is, young lady! Please take a seat. The stool is charmed to automatically adjust to the height of the person sitting on it."

Anne curtsied and sat down on the enchanted stool, bringing her hands to the keyboard of the piano; she promptly began to play an Allegro tempo in Major key - back perfectly straight and a hint of melancholy veiling her expressive dark eyes while they rested on the tail of the piano as if they were not really seeing it. Ominis nonchalantly placed his left hand on the inky-black wood of the instrument, tilting his head to the side as he smiled playfully to himself.

"You play beautifully, my love. You should do it more often for me, instead of just bleeding my ears with your bluster about your talent." He murmured in jest - love and delight palpable in the tone of his velvety voice.

"The young lady plays very well indeed! Doesn't she, Jane?"

"Yes, Mother, she plays truly well."

Anne abruptly stopped playing, strumming the final note as if caught by a sudden wave of embarrassment. Then she rose from the stool with an elegant motion and turned to the shop owner curtseying once more.

"This pianoforte is truly a masterpiece of craftsmanship. I thank you for letting me try it out."

At her words, Ominis smiled a satisfied grin and turned in turn to the older witch.

"Very good. Set up the bill for me. I also want the delivery to Hogwarts arranged - the instrument is to be handed over to Scrope, the house-elf in Headmaster Black's service. He will know where to bring it."

Mother and daughter could not hide their astonishment and awe at witnessing that display of power and prestige by the young Gaunt, and they retreated to the shop counter to prepare what was necessary to collect the money.

With her heart bouncing in her chest, Anne turned to Ominis and gently clutched at his Slytherin robes, moving a step towards him.

"Ominis, this is truly a wonderful gift. I am honoured to receive it but - but it is far too expensive! I jest when I ask you to spend money on me, I - I -"

He smiled and did not let her finish speaking.

"I know you jest, Anne. I'm the one who doesn't." He whispered affectionately as his fingers gently brushed the wild flower he had tucked in her hair during their promenade.

Then, slowly, Ominis took Anne's left hand in his bigger ones and kissed her engagement ring.

"If you're happy, I'm happy too, witty girl." He whispered against her pale hand. "Besides, this is a gift for both of us - as much for you playing as for me listening."

"But I could perform for you in the Music Classroom, or - or - well, actually there is a piano in the Slytherin common room too."

"You should know that Lord Gaunt does not like to share either his privacy or his Lady with others."

They both laughed, unaware of the loving, almost maternal gaze the shop owner was casting on them.

"See what I meant earlier, my love? Do you understand the meaning of what Aunt Noctua taught me?" Ominis continued, still speaking in a hushed whisper. "Whatever happens today, you will remember this day as the day I got you your grand piano, not as the day my father showed up at the castle with delusional requests and my loathsome brother in tow."

Anne widened her eyes and looked at Ominis' handsome countenance lovingly - rosy, trembling lips that longed for nothing more than the privacy to kiss his thin, smiling ones.

"I love you, Ominis. I love you to death."

"And thank Merlin for that, Anne! Thank Merlin, indeed."

Once the purchase negotiation for the enchanted grand piano was concluded, Ominis and Anne politely bid farewell to the shop owners and left Flutes and Lutes to head for the Three Broomsticks. Both of their hearts were feeling oddly light as they walked side by side, their steps resolute as they remained silent, mentally preparing themselves for what awaited them once they reached Sirona's pub.

"Ah, Ominis! Good to see you, dear lad! And where have you left Sebastian?"

"Good day, Sirona. I am alone today. Or rather, as you can see, I am in far sweeter company."

Sirona put down the mug she had just finished drying and placed the rag over her right shoulder with a quick gesture as she leaned over the counter of her pub to greet the newcomers; her lean physique looked as taut as a violin string, made at once strong and weary from the many - too many! - hours spent tapping beer and waiting tables.

"I assume you are here to join the gentlemen upstairs." She said, rolling her eyes to emphasise the fact that it cost her a lot of effort to use the word 'gentlemen' at that juncture. "You may go, dear. I've reserved the whole floor for them as usual. But before you run off - what have we here?! A girl on Ominis' arm?" She added winking and shifting her attention to Anne only to squint and nervously run a hand through her hair, messing up the brown locks held together by a loose bun. "Anne Smith! The well-loved Troll Slayer! Ominis, the girl on your arm is none other than the Wandless!"

Anne smiled and fixed her expressive dark eyes into those of the older witch, drawing Salazar Slytherin's wand from her robes with a theatrical gesture.

"The Wandless is no more, Sirona." She said simply.

"May one ask what you were waiting to tell me, lass? Oh! This news is going to send all the Highlands into an uproar, you can bet on it!" Sirona sniffled and wiped the sweat from her brow, completely ignoring two men intent on sitting down at the counter to order something to eat. "But tell me, Ominis - little scoundrel that you are! - I've seen the Troll Slayer on Sebastian's arm more than once, but from the way you hold on to her, she would seem more than a friend to you..."

Ominis' thin lips stretched into a sincere smile as he took Anne's left hand in his to kiss it. His mouth barely grazed her white skin, then he turned to Sirona.

"Sirona, Anne Smith is my betrothed." The Heir of Slytherin proudly claimed.

"Heavens to Betsy!" Sirona exclaimed, raising her voice and widening her eyes. "By Merlin's beard! Ominis, you lucky bastard!" Her expression suddenly turned serious and she placed her hands on the counter, leaning towards the youths while looking at Anne in particular. "You are both very young - your families did not make arrangements against your will, did they? Your union is... consensual?"

The lovely ginger nodded as her cheeks flushed crimson.

"It is consensual, Sirona. Very consensual."

Sirona's face lit up with delight once more and her left hand snapped to affectionately muss Ominis' blond hair - to his utter chagrin.

"Ominis, you lucky bastard! I knew there was a bit of a ladies' man underneath that quiet, timid façade." Sirona went around the counter to approach the young couple, completely ignoring the other customers in the establishment. "How long have you been promised to each other? And more importantly, what were you waiting to tell Aunt Sirona!"

The chapped hands of the older witch caught Anne's delicate ones. Sirona looked closely at her ring, and copious tears streamed down her cheeks.

"So young... Ah! Today we are celebrating properly - drinks on the house!" She turned sharply to her only maid and snapped her fingers to get her attention. "Clementine, you take care of the bar. I'll tap the beers for my youths."

Clementine Willardesy nodded swaying her thick mane of black hair. Sirona winked at Anne and then returned to take her place behind the pub counter.

"Come, my love." Ominis whispered in the ear of his lovely girl as he pointed his chestnut stalk towards the stairs to their left.

They went up to the second floor of the pub where the only table that was occupied was the one reserved for Phineas Nigellus Black and Lord Gaunt; the older wizards were intent on chatting softly with each other over a large tray of roast beef and two glasses of liquor that appeared to be Firewhisky.

"You of all people should know what it means to be forced to discipline defiant offsprings, Phineas. Have you not disowned and forsaken your second-born son for supporting Muggle rights? We speak of your own flesh and blood - bearing your very name!"

"Gormlaith, my friend, I see your point, but I did not make a public case of it. What you intend to do with Marvolo is -"

"Are you doubting my judgement, Phineas? Why - Ah! Son, here you are at last."

Ominis advanced towards the table with Anne at his side - the expression on his face suddenly serious and impassive compared to the sweet, proud smiles he had given Sirona as he showed her the engagement ring worn by his Lady-to-be. He approached nodding in greeting to the older wizards, then he bowed his head towards the spot where he heard his father's voice coming from, fixing his blind blue eyes in the void.

"Good day, Father." He said in an icy tone of voice as he took his seat at the table inviting Anne to do the same. "Forgive the tardiness. I decided to stop by Flutes and Lutes to treat my betrothed. Anne plays the pianoforte, did you know that?"

Anne forced a smile to confirm Ominis' words as she served herself a portion of roast beef in the hope that having something to do would help her feel more nonchalant.

"It would seem that your youngest son has learnt what his place in society is, eh Gormlaith?" Headmaster Black chuckled.

"So it would seem." Lord Gaunt replied, chuckling in turn. "Well done, son. A witch as precious as Miss Smith must be spoiled and courted with ardour. I will let good Jefferson know that the success of our marriage bargain is assured."

Anne remained silent. A trail of cold sweat dripped slowly down her neck wetting the collar of her shirt as she tried to stomach that statement.

She had immediately realised why Ominis had initially been ashamed of the circumstances of their union; she had never let it weigh on him that he had not been able to reveal to her right away how things were once he had managed to negotiate their engagement.

A contract between purebloods: that was what their union, their love was for their prestigious families. Nothing more than an agreement that provided both heirs and political alliances. And she - the Fifth Keeper, who had defeated and killed the mighty Ranrok - was in the eyes of the men she had in front of her nothing more than a delicate thing to be spoiled and protected. Being spoiled and protected by Ominis for her was the most beautiful thing in the world, of course, but he saw and knew her for who she really was - his care was the fruit of genuine love, not dictated by the condescending misogynism that Phineas and Gormlaith oozed.

Anne's breath suddenly became laboured as a spark of ire ignited in her heart, and just as she was about to open her mouth and let slip a caustic remark addressed to her future father-in-law, Ominis discreetly placed his right hand on her thigh giving her a squeeze that was both gentle and firm at the same time.

"How on Earth is he always able to tell when I'm about to fuck up?" She thought as she placed her hand on his just as discreetly.

At that moment Sirona appeared with four huge mugs of Butterbeer on the house. She set them down on the table, making merry with the young couple; even though she seemed to be doing her best not to interact much with Headmaster Black and his guest, the special attention she gave them and the sincere compliments paid to Anne and Ominis' match planted smug smiles on the faces of both wizards.

"When you've finished these, come down to the counter and I'll buy you another round!" She said enthusiastically as she tried to muss up Ominis' hair once more - who this time managed to dodge rather nonchalantly.

"Aha! But the youths have class this afternoon! Who'll hear the Deputy Headmistress if she sees them wobbling as they take their seats in the classroom?" Headmaster Black chuckled as he finished his liquor at the drop of a hat to devote himself to the mug of Butterbeer.

When Sirona had left, the conversation resumed in a casual manner.

Anne found herself eating her lunch in silence, listening to the older wizards talk with scarce interest. She accepted with polite smiles the compliments of her future father-in-law who kept telling her "how fair and graceful the creature who had stolen his son's heart was", vigorously patting Ominis' right shoulder without ever losing the smirk that curved his thin lips upwards - so similar to those of his son and yet at the same time conveying emotions so different from his own. The impatience of the lovely ginger seemed to grow by the minute, but she made an effort to remain calm and follow Ominis' lead. He was intently focused as if he were carefully studying every detail of the conversation to wait for the right moment to intervene.

It was when his father took the last sip of his Butterbeer that the Heir of Slytherin spoke - the tone of his voice unfailingly icy and stern.

"Father, I've been thinking about what we discussed in Headmaster Black's study this morning. I do not believe at all that nominating Marvolo as the new caretaker of Hogwarts Castle is a wise choice, although I understand your desire to discipline him harshly."

Phineas stopped laughing and gloating, frowning yet again as he promptly interjected.

"Ominis is a wise lad, Gormlaith. He has the mindset of a true Lord despite his young age. I must reiterate my doubts about your request as well. It is far too shameful to make Marvolo the caretaker of a place like Hogwarts. I am not saying this for him, my friend. I am saying this for you and the rest of your family!" Phineas clapped his hands on his thighs and stood up as if to emphasise his speech with the help of his height. "Let it go, my friend. Dirty laundry should be washed in the family. Believe me, I know something about that." He concluded in an almost affectionate manner.

"Lord Gaunt, if I may speak my mind... "

The two men turned to Anne looking at her with curiosity as she called on all her self-control to bare her vulnerability while at the same time trying not to let on how upset and anxious she felt.

"We all know what happened last year. There's no point in dancing around it. Well, I - I don't -" She cursed herself internally as she realised her voice was starting to waver.

Lord Gaunt, however, was watching her intently and seemed keen to let her speak; unfortunately, despite this, the fair ginger was nonetheless interrupted by Clementine, who had just gone up to the second floor of the pub to clear their table of dirty tableware.

"Sirona wants to offer you another round of pints." She said with a coy smile. "Apparently there is quite a few folks waiting to celebrate the young couple - Sirona is giving the good news to all the patrons of the pub, aha!"

Neither Phineas nor Gormlaith seemed particularly enthusiastic about mingling with the other patrons of the pub, but Anne saw them smiling forcibly and preparing to do what was occasionally expected of purebloods of high rank: attend and flaunt the prestige of their titles.

With a vaguely hysterical gesture, the Slytherin girl brought her hands to her hair to twist the soft ginger locks around her fingers as she rose from the table to follow the older wizards down to the bar where they were apparently expected for a toast. Beside her, Ominis descended the stairs with an expression as serious as it was taut painted on his face.

"Don't worry. I'll bring the subject up again, leave it to me." He reassuringly whispered in her ear despite the fact that his body language suggested that he felt anything but assured.

Sirona had already set up four more mugs of Butterbeer, arranging them on the pub bar while all around them a small crowd of wizards and witches had gathered.

"We're a long way from high society, eh Phineas? I smell half-blood and worse." Whispered Gormlaith Gaunt between gritted teeth.

With ill-concealed disdain, the two ‘gentlemen’ toasted with the group of onlookers who wanted to pay their compliments to the newly betrothed young couple.

Everyone in the Wizarding World knew which were the direct descendants of House Gaunt and House Smith, and everyone also knew that the two families had never united their bloodlines before as they both preferred to select the wizards and witches with whom they would enter into marriage vows by choosing people who had been sorted into Slytherin or Hufflepuff respectively. Pairings with House Black and House Bulstrode were frequent for House Gaunt, just as pairings with House Abbott and House Diggory were frequent for House Smith; to think that Salazar Slytherin's line of descent was now about to join that of Helga Hufflepuff was an event that inevitably aroused curiosity and awe in a great many wizards and witches regardless of whether they were of high or low rank.

"Young Miss Smith has been sorted into Slytherin: Fate has spoken clearly. Lord Smith and I are very pleased with this match. As much as the news may already be made public, we will soon arrange a private refreshment to announce the betrothal." The disdain with which Lord Gaunt was implying that none of those present would be invited to such a refreshment was so blatant as to be deeply embarrassing.

Once again Anne found herself smiling forcibly as she fixed her sad dark eyes on the floor, trying to ignore the way that suddenly no one was regarding her as the Troll Slayer anymore, but as Ominis Gaunt's delicate, sweet Lady. In her ears overlapped and mingled the praise paid to her by the wizards present - more or less refined appreciations of her beauty accompanied by vigorous pats on Ominis' back, who was beginning to resent everyone present in the room. The Heir of Slytherin snorted more and more noticeably, his mind frantically focused on the fact that this unexpected waste of time was diverting the attention of his father and postponing the crucial conversation that was to take place between them.

The clamour inside the pub had become almost unbearable for Ominis' sensitive ears, then suddenly it ceased and he felt Anne cling to his side, wincing as the front door of the establishment opened.

Mr Moon and Marvolo Gaunt stepped forward, stirring astonishment and unease in the small crowd gathered at the bar as much as in Sirona: the two men were clearly drunk; it was evident enough from the way they were wobbling and it became glaringly obvious when the castle caretaker tried to hide a flask in his Victorian coat.

"Mr Moon? We agreed to meet in half an hour in my study, if I'm not mistaken." Phineas Nigellus Black mumbled awkwardly - in turn slightly intoxicated by the alcohol he had consumed during lunch.

Gormlaith Gaunt's face was an indecipherable mask where the only discernible emotion was disappointment.

"Yes, Headmaster Black. It's just that, frankly, there wasn't much left to do at the castle and - and Mr Gaunt insisted to - well, to"

"To come and tell my esteemed father the good news! Mr Moon thinks me fit to work at the castle - though the poor fellow would have preferred not to be left unemployed." Marvolo laughed a cruel laugh, his words slurred and his breath alcoholic and thick as he leaned against the counter a short distance from Anne and Ominis. "Oh, but I see you were celebrating another happy news here." Marvolo snatched the glass from the hand of a grizzled-haired witch, draining the liquor it contained in a single gulp. "To Miss Smith." He said raising his empty glass to the sky. "How fair is she, gentlemen? Is she not the fairest witch in all the Highlands? That's what they say about her, isn't it? And to think that my little brother cannot even see her with his own eyes!"

Some wizards hinted a laugh, thinking it was an innocent jest, but Marvolo's ungainly, over-the-top behaviour had caused embarrassment among all present.

Sirona intervened leaving the bar to approach the drunken man - thin lips gnashing like those of a dog.

"I don't serve drunk customers. I have to ask you-"

Marvolo roughly shoved her aside, and several patrons of the pub instinctively brought their hands to their pockets as if they were ready to draw their wands.

"What do you mean drunk! I am merely ecstatic! I delight in the good fortune of my little brother!" He shouted, moving forward with an unsteady step.

A boy of about eight hid behind his father's legs, gazing at Marvolo as if he were a monster.

"I would say it is time for us to leave." Lord Gaunt frostily declared as he prepared to pull out his pouch to pay for the meal.

"Nonsense, Father! One last toast at least!" Marvolo seized another glass, snatching it from its rightful owner to drink its contents in one gulp.

The crowd began to murmur and stir as Phineas Nigellus Black began to break out in a cold sweat from shame.

Mr Moon leaned against a pillar, standing aside with the sad look of a man who feels like a failure.

Marvolo's gaze, on the other hand, was manic and fixed on Anne clasped in Ominis' arms a few steps away from him. She returned his stare - blind fury and utter panic were discernible in equal measure in the expression painted on her delicate features.

Ominis, for his part, looked like a marble state such was his immobility. His arms were tightly wrapped around his betrothed - protective, strong. His back was stiff and his countenance so gaunt as to look even more frightening than his brother's, which was distorted by drunkenness and frenzy.

"You're making a spectacle of yourself, brother. I advise you to tone it down." He commanded in a deep, velvety voice.

Marvolo shook his head, making the brown, greasy locks of his ill-groomed hair sway - they were so different from his younger brother's that they didn't even look like siblings at all.

"Listen to him! My crippled little brother has grown up! He orders me around, talking like a big man! Ah!" He exclaimed, continuing to slur his words as he grabbed a half-empty mug of ale resting on the pub counter. "To my little brother! The cripple betrothed to the whore!"

In the split second that passed after Marvolo had barked that vile insult, before anyone else could react, Sirona lunged towards him drawing her wand. But the Slytherin monster, as if waiting for nothing else, spun around hitting her full in the face with a backhand that sent her crashing into the pub counter before her body fell to the floor.

A tall wizard in his thirties lunged at Marvolo with blind fury, but he was quicker to point his wand at him; casting a non-verbal spell he knocked him and several other wizards off their feet, sending them crashing into the pillars and tables of the establishment. With a swift flick of his wand Marvolo blasted the barrels of Butterbeer stacked behind the pub's bar, then he aimed it at the fireplace to set off a blazing flare.

A witch was wounded and screamed in pain.

The second Anne realised that the patrons of the pub were in danger, something snapped inside her stifling her fear and giving way to the Keeper. With an agile leap she left Ominis' side before he could react, and she came to stand before Marvolo with her wand drawn.

"Pestis Incendium! " He shouted, still aiming at the fireplace behind her.

With a shrill, demonic screech, the Fiendfyre emerged from the fireplace - the dreadful bewitched blaze infused with Dark Magic set to consume and destroy anything in its path. Without flinching, Anne turned and summoned a blast of Ancient Magic that collided with the Fiendfyre, annihilating it as if it had never existed before the incredulous eyes of those present.

''It's not possible!" Marvolo gasped, staring with incredulous hate-filled dark eyes at the unlit fireplace where he had just summoned one of the most devastating and vicious curses known in the Wizarding World.

Then his gaze rested on Anne's wand.

Envy, anger and utter disbelief were painted on the face of the Slytherin monster when he recognised the snakeskin hilt of the legendary ebony spiral.

Marvolo spat out of his mouth a hiss in Parseltongue that was laden with hatred to the point of sounding like a demon's tongue.

"My brother opened the Chamber for you?! You whore! You have no right to claim the wand of my ancestor!"

Anne snorted disdainfully and hissed back, resolute and confident.

"I am Ominis' betrothed. Your brother had as much right to claim Salazar's wand as you, and he gave it to me. The wand chose me - and between us, it would never have mated with a miserable fuck-up like you, Marvolo."

In an instant, the anger that seethed in Marvolo Gaunt's stare mingled with scorching lust.

Anne Smith, the object of his most ardent and impure desire, had spoken as one of them - her soft, exotic, vaguely tentative accent crept into the head of the Slytherin monster and into his breeches, swelling his flap.

"My brother taught you?! How is that possible -"

Taking advantage of his distraction, the Keeper returned to the offensive.

"Expelliarmus!" She shouted disarming him.

Before Marvolo could pick up his wand, the Keeper aimed the ebony spiral at an empty beer mug and sent it crashing against the pudgy body of her enemy, who groaned in pain and tried to shake the broken glass off him.

Ominis and his father had knelt beside Sirona's body, which was gruesomely still.

Phineas Nigellus Black and Mr Moon had cowardly hidden behind the pub counter.

To Anne's left, the child who had shuddered at the sight of Marvolo moments before was sobbing on the floor beside a broken chair.

"Are you alright? Don't worry, I'm here!" Anne shouted, kneeling down beside him. "Are you hurt? Let me see if -"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Taking advantage of the distraction of his opponent, Marvolo had fetched his wand to catch her by surprise. The body of the lovely ginger became as rigid as a slab of marble and she found herself motionless, kneeling on the ground before the frightened gaze of the child she had tried to help. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her lungs had been emptied of all air: panic seized her mind as she realised how utterly vulnerable she was.

She was completely at Marvolo's mercy.

"Levioso!" Snarled the Slytherin monster while sniggering.

And Anne - still frozen by the Full Body-Bind Curse - found herself floating in the air, as pathetic and helpless as a worm on a hook waiting to be devoured by the fish.

She heard Marvolo take a few steps towards her before someone rushed in her direction, preventing him from approaching. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ominis holding the chestnut stalk in front of him as he tried to reach her. His hated brother cast a non-verbal spell, and a silvery dust spread through the air, causing the heads of the wizards on whom it rested to dangle.

"Protego!" Shouted Ominis to repel the soporific dust. "Depulso!" He yelled immediately afterwards.

Marvolo was pushed backwards with a heavy thud.

"My love, I am here!"

Ominis was almost touching her with the fingertips of his right hand when his hated brother got to his feet.

"Avada Kedavra!"

There was an animalistic howl followed by a flash of green light.

Anne wanted to scream but her rosy lips were bound like the rest of her body by the Full Body-Bind Curse. Floating in the air fully paralysed she failed to see clearly what had happened, and for a few moments that seemed endless her heart experienced a new kind of agony. Then, swaying out of control in the air, her rigid body turned towards the front door of the pub: what she saw made her gasp for air in relief.

Ominis stood next to his brother and loomed over him menacingly - his tall, slender physique in complete contrast to the short, stocky body of his sibling. The tip of the chestnut stalk was thrust against Marvolo's pudgy neck with violence as Ominis held him at bay with pure fury distorting his handsome features.

"You better aim with care next time, brother. You seem to have managed to miss the cripple despite your excellent eyesight." Ominis hissed in Parseltongue with a voice so icy that it could have scared away an army of armoured trolls.

Anne watched him as intently as she could in her current situation: she was sure that if the circumstances had been different, Ominis would have acted rather differently in turn - she was sure he would have returned the favour to his brother and cast the Killing Curse.

"Son. Pull yourself together." Lord Gaunt commanded in a firm voice.

Ominis immediately obeyed like a soldier who had always been used to taking orders. He stepped aside and let his father approach Marvolo and take his place.

"I am proud of you, son. You fight well. But now leave it to me and help your betrothed." Muttered Gormlaith Gaunt looking at his first-born with raw disgust.

Ominis was at Anne's side in an instant, accompanying an elegant wand gesture with the words "Finite Incantatem".

The fair ginger fell into the arms of the Heir of Slytherin who grabbed her on the fly the moment the spells binding her were broken. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly as he walked towards the pub counter, effortlessly carrying her weight.

Sirona had risen to her feet and was on the arm of Phineas Nigellus Black: her pub was destroyed, her clientele frightened and injured.

Lord Gaunt stopped in a commanding voice a wizard dressed in snappy robes who made a sudden dash for the door.

"No need to call for the Aurors. Assuming and not conceding that an Unforgivable Curse was cast, no one was hurt, right?" He walked a few steps towards Sirona while Marvolo remained planted in the middle of the room as if suddenly afraid of what his father was about to do to him. "I will pay you double the damage done to you. In return, I ask you not to encourage gossip about what happened today." He told her, placing a hand to his heart.

Sirona nodded lowering her gaze, the brown locks of hair that had come loose from her bun when she had been hit by Marvolo fell on her face.

"Let us return to the castle, Phineas. Marvolo and I have much to discuss." Gormlaith concluded, turning back to stare at his first-born with pure hatred etched on his face.

The sunlight shone blindingly once Anne was out of the Three Broomsticks. A small blackboard reading WE ARE CLOSED had appeared beneath the pub sign, conjured up by Sirona before she closed the doors of her establishment to begin repairing - as much with elbow grease as with the aid of magic - the damage done by Marvolo Gaunt. Some of the wizards and witches who had witnessed the fight were staying to help her, others had already disappareted in a hurry.

"Ominis, my head is spinning." Anne whispered, suddenly feeling weak in the knees.

As Ominis hugged her to support the weight of her body, murmuring words of comfort against her right temple, to Anne's ears came the shrieking of a bird and her sad dark eyes darted to the roof of the Three Broomsticks where a brown owl was perched. The lovely ginger would have recognised the shrill voice of that owl among hundreds. She immediately stretched out her arm towards the bird of prey, which came to rest on it without hesitation, delivering her a letter from its owner.

- Red!
My sister told me that Ominis came to fetch you after your morning tutoring session.
Since the two of you did not join us at the Slytherin table, I can only assume that you left to wreak havoc in Hogsmeade without asking me to come along! Shame on you, you bastards! I would have gladly had a Butterbeer myself...
Ah, well, whatever! I guess you'll have to pay me back with plenty of ale whenever the chance arises.
I'll pop over to the Library before Transfiguration class because I want to review my summer essays before handing them over to Professor Weasley. Shall we meet there and go together? That is, if you cheeky lovebirds show up for class at all.
See you later(?), red.
Always and forever yours, Sebastian
ps. Tell Ominis he's an arsehole for not inviting me –

Reading the vaguely offended words of the Slytherin heartthrob - who was unaware of the whole situation involving her and Ominis - Anne's rosy lips stretched into a partly affectionate, partly sad smile.

"What is Sebastian writing?" Ominis asked without stopping holding her close to him in the middle of the crowded main street of the village.

"He is hurt because he thinks we came to enjoy a meal at the Three Broomsticks without inviting him."

"Did he mention where he is now? Did he tell you if he's staying in the common room or going somewhere else before our afternoon classes?"

Anne shifted her weight to her slender legs as she stopped leaning against Ominis' body to stare at him.

"Yes, he wrote me that -"

"Join him as soon as we get to the castle! I don't want you to miss our afternoon classes, Anne. What happened - well, that will certainly play in our favour, but I must and will be present while they discuss Marvolo's fate." His voice softened, his tall, sinewy body drew her back into his embrace like a safe cliff amidst a raging sea. "Leave it to me, my love. Most likely this is going to take a while. If I won't be able to join you in time for class, take notes for me too, will you?"

Anne barely had time to whisper a quick "yes" before Phineas Nigellus Black and Mr Moon moved a few steps towards them; the Headmaster appareted all four of them at Hogwarts using his private Window, and they found themselves right in front of his study moments before Lord Gaunt and his first-born joined them.

Running a hand through his short brown hair, Marvolo cast one last glance at Anne, scorching lust and wicked desire palpable in the air as he hinted a small, evil grin at her before being unceremoniously pushed into the headmaster's study by his father.

Mr Moon and Phinead Nigellu Black followed the members of House Gaunt in silence, and Ominis did the same after he pressed one last chaste kiss to the forehead of his sweetheart.

"I will tell you all about it later. I will come and find you as soon as my father and Marvolo are gone. Everything will turn out fine, you'll see." He told her soothingly.

His lips rested chastely on her forehead one last time, then Ominis turned serious and pointed the chestnut stalk in front of him to disappear behind the door where the other men had passed.

Unconcerned about the curious stares she drew on herself, Anne ran for the Library with the same rush as a centaur dashing through the trees of a thick forest. When she reached her destination, she stopped in front of the oak door on the right and nervously ran her hands through her long ginger hair as if hoping to chase the nasty thoughts from her head. Having composed herself just enough so as not to attract too much attention inside the silent reading room, the Keeper stepped into the Library and cast her gaze around, desperately searching for Sebastian.

She saw him standing on the upper floor of the room while he faced the spiral staircase on the left as if he were undecided whether or not to descend the steps - deep dark eyes staring into the void in front of him with the lost expression of someone who is deliberating in their head whether or not they are satisfied with the work they have just completed.

Anne dashed towards him, quickly ascending the spiral staircase with such a light step that Madam Scribner did not even notice that there was a student intent on running into her precious sanctuary. As soon as she was in front of him, the Slytherin heartthrob awoke from his stupor and frowned at her while crossing his arms in reproach with what looked like an expression somewhere between playful and affronted plastered on his face. However, it only took him a second glance to realise that something was wrong, seriously wrong.

Adjusting the leather satchel slung over his right shoulder, Sebastian stepped forward and brought his left hand to Anne's face to caress her cheek.

''Red, what happened? Where is Ominis? You had a fight?" He asked in a hushed voice as he felt his heartbeat grow faster and out of control.

Anne shook her head as she looked at Sebastian with pleading eyes - soft rosy lips curving downwards in a dejected, lost expression.

With slow, smooth movements, he pulled her aside, heading to their right towards an alcove where no student seemed to be lurking. They leaned against the bookshelf in that deserted section of the Library, Anne in Sebastian's arms as she told him in a hushed whisper why she and Ominis hadn't eaten lunch with the other students in the Great Hall. At the mention of Marvolo, his arms tightened around her thin body like ivy wrapping around the trunk of a tree - strong biceps tensed as if the lad was on about to punch Salazar Slytherin's vile descendant in the face just then.

"We're going straight to the Deputy Headmistress." He simply told her once she had finished talking.

"What for, Sebastian?!"

"What do you mean 'what for'! You involve her - you tell her everything! Surely she would intercede on your behalf. She would take action to protect you and make sure that Headmaster Black wouldn't even consider hiring a caretaker who tried to - to assault you!"

His words sounded harsher than he intended, and Anne shuddered as she shook her head softly.

"Sebastian, I can't stomach sharing such things with the Deputy Headmistress. I am grateful for the fact that the witnesses of that which happened last year did not mention it to anyone. I - I am deeply ashamed, Sebastian!"

He nervously ran his left hand through his soft brown hair messing it up more than it already was, then he stepped back only to close the distance between them again a moment later, cupping her cheeks in his hands.

"I know you feel ashamed. I know you much better than you think, Anne Smith. When something hurts you, you simply pretend none of it exists and if it were up to you, you wouldn't mention anything about it to anyone. Partly it's your character, and partly it's the Keeper in you that seeks solitude and isolation." He paused to let a small group of Hufflepuff students pass by. "I know how difficult this is for you, but you must speak to Professor Weasley."

"Sebastian, Ominis will never allow his father to insist on his absurd demand. The Headmaster is on our side and what happened today at the Three Broomsticks is a maddening escalation that -"

"That's great. And if we also have the Deputy Headmistress on our side all the better, right? And - and I -" The Slytherin heartthrob fixed his eyes in hers, losing himself in her ink-black irises for a moment. "Please. I beg you, red. Let's just go to the Deputy Headmistress. I'll come with you - I'll be there by your side and everything will be fine."

Anne carefully considered Sebastian's words as a shiver of anguish ran down her spine.

She thought back in horror to how vulnerable and helpless she had felt moments before as she found herself floating in the air fully paralysed.

Marvolo had defeated her in a duel. For a moment, he had held her in his grasp.

The Keeper who could annihilate a Fienfyre with a flick of her wand, had been caught off guard and overpowered like the thickest of fledglings! And Anne was not used to being overpowered with such ease.

She now felt scared and insecure, and on one thing her best friend was quite right: she needed help - or rather, all the help she could get.

"We are Slytherins, red." Sebastian whispered breaking the silence. "And as such I won't be satisfied with a fair chance of success, I need certainty. I want -"

"Oh, Anne! There you are! I saw you come in and then run up the stairs earlier - I was trying to get your attention but you didn't really notice me!"

Cressida appeared next to the Slytherins after having silently approached them; in her left hand were a few slips of parchment where a plethora of messy notes were written, and her ever-smiling, tiny mouth was stretched into a seemingly satisfied grin.

Sebastian let go of Anne's face and leapt away from her as if he had been caught in the act of committing a heinous crime, then he turned towards the gawky lioness, glowering at her.

"What do you fucking want with us, Blume? " He snarled at her as if he were a rabid dog.

"...Good afternoon to you too, Sallow." She replied, raising her eyebrows and looking vaguely offended before shrugging and turning to her friend. "I used my lunch break to write a short essay on the Ageing Potion and, you see, I made assumptions about the amounts of potion one should take to reach specific stages of ageing." She said almost jumping on the spot in excitement. "About the thing we discussed earlier, could you read it and possibly correct or improve it? Then I'll slip it to Garreth with an excuse and -"

Anne huffed and stamped her left foot on the floor so violently that Madam Scribner got up from her desk on the ground floor to try and figure out where the noise was coming from.

"Give me that, Cressida!" Anne whispered through clenched teeth, gesturing curtly for the parchment slips held by her friend. "Give your fucking essay to me and I promise I'll take a look at it so you can make a good impression on Garreth. Now piss the fuck off though! I don't know if you've noticed, but today's not really a good day for me, and you're not the only one with worries!"

The Slytherin girl burst into silent tears, her thin, delicate body was shaken by a strong tremor, so evident that it did not escape Cressida's notice, who felt bad to the point of seeming on the verge of tears herself. The plump lioness was about to open her mouth and apologise, but Sebastian stood protectively between her and Anne, pointing to the spiral staircase not far from them and silently inviting her to fucking leave them be. Then he turned towards the Troll Slayer, who in the meantime had dried her eyes and was running her hands through her long ginger hair to pull herself together. He tenderly held her hand and nodded reassuringly without saying a word before he gently urged her to follow him and walk by his side to leave the Library for the Transfiguration Classroom.

They walked in silence, she staring at the floor and he fixing his gaze with aggressiveness and hostility on the face of any student who seemed even vaguely intent on greeting them.

By the time they arrived at the front of Professor Weasley's classroom, they were about fifteen minutes ahead of the start of class; the fair ginger instinctively froze like a donkey who has no intention of stepping onto a path, but the Slytherin heartthrob glowered at her as well - deep dark eyes starkly scrutinised her delicate features, thick eyebrows furrowed in reproach as he sharply knocked on the door.

"Come in, it's open." Called Professor Weasley from inside the classroom.

A moment later, Sebastian was opening the heavy wooden door, dragging Anne by the hand; once they were inside, he advanced towards the teacher's desk without a word.

"Mr Sallow? Miss Smith?" Slowly inquired the Deputy Headmistress with an astonished expression as she shifted her gaze from one to the other. "I have never seen the two of you arrive so early to one of my classes! Ehe!" She laughed somewhat bashfully and gestured towards the empty desks on either side of the classroom. "You're a little early for the start of class but, please be seated, dears."

An awkward silence fell.

Sebastian stubbornly stood there without saying a word, merely turning his head towards Anne and nodding in the direction of the teacher's desk to urge her to speak.

Unabashed, down-to-earth and blunt: that was Sebastian Sallow and Anne Smith knew him as well as the back of her hand.

And while she knew that his quasi-aggressive manner of urging her to act was his way of showing her his deepest love for her, she cursed him in her head for making her feel pressured at a time when she was feeling far too agitated and worried already.

"Professor Weasley, I came to - well, you see, I -" Anne stuttered pathetically.

The Deputy Headmistress eyed with curiosity first Anne then Sebastian before sighing deeply as if she suddenly understood the situation perfectly well.

"Of course, you came here to talk about the academic standing of Miss Sallow. Sit here at the teacher's desk, dear lad. I imagine you want to be updated on the progress of your sister and that you feel responsible for her since the two of you are left alone in the world. What a tragedy... I wish Hogwarts could do more for you."

Sebastian squinted his eyes caught off guard. His full, attractive lips parted as if he was about to speak, but no sound came out of his mouth. Then he swiftly shook his head.

"No, Professor, in truth I'm not interested in talking - that is, I mean - well, of course I hope my sister will continue her studies without any difficulties but we came here now to – to, well -"

"Professor, I met this morning with Miss Sallow and my brother, as agreed. It all went well - Miss Sallow will catch up in no time I'm sure, but in truth we didn't want to talk about -"

Professor Weasley clapped her hands together with genuine enthusiasm and stood up from her desk, struggling slightly to find her balance as she stood up given the dash with which she tried to get her overweight body on its feet.

"Why, Miss Smith! Isn't that good news, dear Mr Sallow?" She said softly, approaching Sebastian with a motherly expression painted on her face. "I trust Miss Smith's judgement blindly and Miss Sallow has always been a brilliant student. She'll catch up with her studies and put that nasty malady behind her, I’m sure of it!"

Sebastian stepped back in blatant embarrassment as he nervously ran a hand through his unruly brown hair.

"I hope so, Professor, but -"

"And if there is anything I can do for you, my dear lad, you need only ask." Professor Weasley continued whilst fixing her gentle hazel eyes in those of her young student as a veil of tears testified to her sincere emotion. "It must be hard for a young wizard to find himself being the man of the house at the age of sixteen. But after all, it is for the best, if you had been of a different age the Ministry of Magic would have had to place you in the care of a foster home - or worst still into an orphanage." The old lioness brought a hand to her heart as if in sudden pain, and her expression became even sadder. "What a tragedy, my dear Mr Sallow - losing first your brilliant parents and then your only tutor. You'll see, the teaching staff will be very understanding with Miss Anne Sallow! I was very clear about that."

Now Sebastian was petrified in the centre of the classroom; it seemed as if it was his turn to burst into tears, and his soft lips trembled with the effort of keeping all his emotions well-buried within him.

"To Hell with it!" Anne thought as she stepped to his side, taking him by the arm and squeezing it tightly with a delicate, pale hand. "Mr Sallow is a talented, clever young wizard, Professor - a real man of the house! He is very considerate towards his sister, but he has nothing to worry about." She declared with a charming smile and a forceful yet nonchalant laugh. "In addition to the faculty, Mr Sallow can count on many friends."

Professor Weasley smiled even more affectionately, her emotion seeming to grow by the minute.

"You and Mr Sallow formed a most formidable bond from day one. I remember that well, Miss Smith. It is wonderful for me to see that you continue to care for each other!"

Just then chatter was heard coming from behind them, and a moment later a crowd of students was streaming into the classroom to begin their lesson.

Anne curtsied politely to the Deputy Headmistress and pulled on Sebastian's arm, leading him to a three-seater desk - even though it was now clear that Ominis would never reach them in time.

"That went fucking well." The Slytherin heartthrob muttered as he opened his satchel to pull out his quill and inkwell.

"Fucking well, aye."

"I thought it was a great idea to get the Deputy Headmistress involved, but there's no point in pushing it now. We'll just have to wait for your fair-haired knight to fight for you, red."

"Sebastian?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. We didn't handle the conversation well, but it was indeed a great idea to speak with Professor Weasley."

Anne placed her hand on Sebastian's intent on dipping his quill in the inkwell, and she gently squeezed it. He returned the gesture and smiled as he looked at her sideways.

The Transfiguration class scheduled for that day was entirely theoretical and incredibly tedious.

Anne could do nothing but shift her gaze from the wall clock to the empty desk at her side where Ominis had never come to sit; after an hour spent like that - silently sighing and praying to Merlin that everything would be all right - she decided to stop trying so hard to pay attention to the lecture and set to work on Cressida's short essay. Finding it delusional, not at all accurate nor interesting, not to mention far from appropriate to be given to a lad in the hope of winning him over, the lovely ginger rewrote it in its entirety, drafting for Cressida a sophisticated love letter disguised as a digression on Amortentia.

Sebastian cast his eyes over Anne's scribblings smiling fondly, and set to work taking notes on the lesson for her as well as for Ominis.

"What is it? Did you chip a nail?"

Anne nervously drummed her fingers on the table, pretending that Imelda's voice had never reached her ears because of the hubbub and chatter animating the Great Hall. She eyed with interest the roast chicken lying on a tray to her left and set about selecting the juiciest portions of the fowl to serve on her plate, blatantly ignoring the piercing gaze of the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team who was sitting next to her right in front of the roast chicken.

But if there was one thing Imelda managed extremely well, it was to be persistent.

"So? Why the long face?" She asked as she pushed the roast chicken tray away from Anne, forcing her to stand up in order to help herself to the food. "Ah! Don't tell me Lord Gaunt had a fight with his precious princess!"

"Imelda, if you really care to know, it's none of your fucking business."

"That's it, isn't it? The disgustingly lovely ginger is hurting for her dashing blond knight? Uhu, trouble in Paradise for the most sickeningly sweet couple in all the Highlands!"

Imelda pushed the tray of roast chicken further away from Anne while she was still intent on filling her plate.

"First of all, Ominis and I didn't have a fight. Secondly, I'm glad to know that, if we had in fact quarrelled, it would make you laugh. I mean, you are a true friend, Imelda."

The Troll Slayer snorted angrily as she stood before the Slytherin table, nervously running her right hand through her soft ginger hair whilst holding the tray of roast chicken firmly in her left as Imelda tried to yank it further away from her.

"Bollocks. If you didn't have a fight, what reason would Ominis have for not showing up for supper?"

"Reasons that don't concern you, Imelda."

"Bollocks. You are sad and anxious. Big doe eyes glazed over with melancholy, sighs and moans as delicate as they are melodramatic alternating every five seconds - overall you're even more disgustingly lovely than usual." Imelda fixed her curious dark eyes on Sebastian sitting to Anne's right, and pointed at him with a wave of her hand. "Poor Sallow is agonising over you. If you were merciful, you would smile just to end his pathetic suffering."

Sebastian - caught off guard and always on the defensive when someone brought his feelings for Anne Smith to attention - spat the pumpkin juice he was drinking and began coughing as he pounded at his chest, casting a sidelong glare at Imelda.

"As I was saying..." She chuckled.

Anne sat back down on the bench and turned to Sebastian, bringing her face close to his and smiling like an idiot. He laughed in amusement and gave her a hard smack on the nose. There was a feminine, outraged gasp followed by a firm slap from a pale hand on a brawny shoulder.

They both burst out laughing as they turned to face their respective plates; they ate in silence while occasionally nudging each other as they went on chuckling. At some point, however, Anne turned serious again, and when Sebastian realised that she had stopped laughing, he turned to find her intent on looking towards the entrance of the Great Hall - soft lips curved downwards and eyes fixed on the huge wooden doorway like that of a dog staring at the front door of its house waiting for its owner to return home.

"He's not back yet, Sebastian... And Headmaster Black is not at the High Table. I wonder what on Earth could have happened. I wonder if - if something went wrong." Anne murmured, giving voice to her thoughts.

Sebastian looked intently at her and said nothing. He was perfectly aware that - after all those hours - the fact Ominis and Headmaster Black were missing supper was a bad sign. There wasn't much to say about it, they just had to resign themselves to the fact that for the time being they wouldn't receive any news on the matter.

"I must try to distract her somehow: it's not good for her to think obsessively of Marvolo. That filthy monster! Anxiety is eating her up. And if I'm honest, I'm not quite at ease either." Sebastian thought as he swallowed one last sip of pumpkin juice before standing up and offering his left hand to Anne, looming over her with his tall, lean physique. "Let's go, come on." He told her, winking. "There's an evening gathering at the club today. We can't miss it."

"Oh, I don't know, Sebastian. After everything that happened today, I – I don't know if I feel like attending Crossed Wands."

"What's the plan for the evening then? Jump into bed and cry? Or bite your nails and stare into emptiness as you let anxiety eat you up?"

Anne made to retort, then cast her gaze on her empty plate and began poking at a chicken bone with her fork - a sad, worried expression painted on her delicate features. Sebastian nervously ran his left hand through his perpetually-dishevelled brown hair, then held it out again for the Troll Slayer, straining to smile winsomely.

"Come on, red. You love Crossed Wands' evening gatherings. There's no audience, usually only the more experienced duellists participate - the ones most inclined to defy the Prefects. I know you can't resist the thrill of breaking curfew!" The Slytherin heartthrob turned to the other tables, dwelling on the Gryffindor's in particular. "Lucan and that prick Prewett are nowhere to be seen. They must be at the club by now. Come on, red! I enjoy watching you send Prewett arse-first into the ground a lot more than beating him myself!"

Anne laughed weakly and hesitantly reached for Sebastian's hand without, however, rising to her feet whilst keeping her sweet dark eyes trained on the floor.

Imelda, who was watching the exchange with great interest, suddenly folded her arms, snorting and shaking her head quite dramatically.

"Again with this club bollocks!" She said through clenched teeth. "If you dare get yourselves hurt, you'd better hide well because if I find you I'll double your pain! You are aware that the Quidditch tournament has been re-established this year, yes? And you do know that in a month's time we'll be playing our first match of the year against Hufflepuff, right?"

The seeker and the keeper of the Slytherin Quidditch team rolled their eyes in perfect synchrony.

"Go ahead and roll your eyes! You imbeciles! You should be using your free time to train on the Quidditch pitch, not putting on pathetic shows in that wanker's club!"

Sebastian smiled at Imelda in a charming way that made her blush slightly before he inflicted a severe blow to her pride.

"You only say that because you duel quite pathetically, Imelda."

The loud harpy began muttering indignantly while keeping her arms folded in front of her chest, and Anne could not hold back her laughter.

"Come on, red. Trust me: now we're heading off to the club for an hour or two and we'll have some fun. Our friends will be there - it will be a distraction. And when we get back to the common room, I bet Ominis will be there waiting for us and he'll have great news to tell us." Sebastian insisted without stopping smiling charmingly and reassuringly.

Anne hinted a small smile in turn and nodded weakly without saying a word. Then she rose to her feet, taking his hand.

As the fair ginger made to step over the wooden bench to get away from their table, her skirt hiked up to reveal more than her companion was able to handle without getting a nosebleed. The eyes of the Slytherin heartthrob flicked down to her slender legs wrapped in the tights of her uniform: he swallowed causing his Adam's apple to bob blatantly before he shook his head to return to the present moment.

"Besides, merely displeasing Imelda is a good reason to show up at the club tonight."

There was an indignant squeal and a dirty napkin thrown over Sebastian's head, who shrugged it off with a laugh as he headed for the exit of the Great Hall with Anne Smith on his arm.

As they walked briskly along the halls of the castle, the Keeper's watchful eye noticed that she and her companion were by no means the only ones to have left the Great Hall before supper ended: a large number of students seemed to be flocking towards the Clock Tower Entrance - certainly more than one would have expected to see considering that the evening curfew was about to begin.

Sebastian and Anne peered around quizzically until they reached the narrow bridge connecting the Gryffindor Tower with Crossed Wands arena. There, about twenty students were divided into small groups, chatting excitedly. The gloom of dusk was lit by the wands of some of them, who had cast Lumos to illuminate their surroundings while they lingered just outside the Clock Tower Entrance.

The reason for stopping there instead of socialising at Crossed Wands arena became obvious very quickly.

Anne noticed that there were many girls intent on chatting while leaning against the battlements of the stone bridge, and she realised with horror that there was one name in particular that was repeated over and over again as those young witches absentmindedly fiddled with locks of their hair and gazed dreamily into the void: Samuel Smith.

"That my prick of a brother is here doesn't surprise me." The lovely ginger snarled through clenched teeth. "But what are all these students doing here, Sebastian? Is it possible that everyone is willing to risk getting detention just to see my stupid brother duel?"

"Your brother may be a stupid arsehole, but the female audience doesn't seem to care much about that." He replied with a note of annoyance mixed with resentment clearly discernible in his voice as he absentmindedly cast his gaze over a small group of Ravenclaw girls intent on giggling and blushing amongst themselves.

As soon as they had crossed the threshold, Sebastian left Anne a few steps behind to approach Lucan, who was busy checking the state of one of his enchanted dummies right near the entrance.

''Mate, this used to be an exclusive club. What are all these people doing here! We're bound to get caught!"

"Oh, Sebastian!" The young mediator tucked his wand in his pocket and gently pushed away the dummy he was working on. "Indeed, there have never been so many girls interested in duels before."

Lucan, who had recently turned fourteen, glanced briefly at a Hufflepuff girl of his own age whilst instinctively running a hand through his soft black curls as if suddenly the presence of a female audience might vaguely interest him. Anne snorted without even trying to hold back the irritated gurgle that rose from her throat.

"Leaving aside the fact that I think it's grotesque that these people find my brother interesting - we're going to get caught, Lucan! There's never been so many students at the club, especially at an evening gathering!"

"Well, if we're being honest, you were the real reason this club became so popular in the first place, Troll Slayer!" Lucan replied, smiling as he turned his attention back to Slytherin duellists. "As for tonight, I was a bit worried at first too seeing all these people arrive, however it would seem we have the Prefects on our side."

The young lion pointed at the Slytherin Prefect, who was intent on casting a series of protective spells around the arena including the Quietening Charm. At his side, looking vaguely hesitant, the Gryffindor Prefect was doing the same.

"Apparently our Prefect is good friends with your brother, red. If nothing else, we don't have to worry about being discovered when we walk back into our common room."

"Cold comfort, Sebastian. A cold comfort indeed."

Anne turned her attention to the students scattered around the Clock Tower Entrance waiting for the first duel of the evening to begin.

She had let Sebastian convince her that it was a good idea to try and distract herself, engaging in an activity she usually enjoyed to avoid obsessively thinking about Marvolo while waiting for Ominis to finally return to her, yet now she was beginning to regret her choice. She felt a new wave of anxiety seize her as she searched the crowd for the handsome countenance of her hated brother. Her expressive dark eyes darted from face to face until they finally settled on their target, and it was at that moment that her heart sank even deeper.

Samuel had just taken off his shirt and was stretching his shoulders, holding his wand as if ready to descend into the arena. His blond-haired housemate was doing the same, which seemed to suggest that they were intent on duelling as a pair.

Several Hufflepuff boys were gathered in Samuel's corner and they all stood shirtless in a pathetic attempt to emulate him. Among them was Anne's friend, Arthur Plummly: although he was sensitive and kind by nature, he seemed eager to blend in with the other lads and follow the lead of their new idol - Helga Hufflepuff's wealthy descendant, who had returned to Hogwarts after making his name in stern, mysterious Durmstrang.

"Arthur, what the fuck are you doing?!" The fair ginger shouted, drawing the gaze of her brother and that of his friends upon her.

Arthur stared at her in silence looking like he was holding his breath to appear thinner than he actually was, then shrugged and turned his attention back to Samuel as if the red-haired badger was about to reveal the secrets of the universe to everyone.

Just then, the Keeper's gaze was drawn to the swishing of Ravenclaw robes that accompanied the gait of two students apparently intent on approaching the Hufflepuff clique. For the umpteenth time that evening, Anne found herself squinting in astonishment and horror.

Zenobia Noke - far-too-young to be in such a place as Crossed Wands arena Zenobia Noke! - was marching resolutely on the arm of Duncan Hobhouse, the despicable coward.

Without hesitation, the lovely ginger advanced towards them and stood in their path before they could reach her hated brother.

"What in Hell are you doing here Zenobia! Hobhouse, are you thick in the head as well as a coward by any chance? She's entering her second year - she's far too young to attend -"

The little Ravenclaw interrupted the Slytherin girl, gesturing hysterically with her hands.

"Shh! Don't spoil it, Anne Smith! I'm not a little child!" She shrieked, fixing her gaze on Samuel Smith. "Oh, he's so handsome... "

Anne felt her stomach twist as if she was about to gag upon noticing the thin veil of red lip cream Zenobia had applied to her pouty mouth to gloss it as if she hoped to look older.

"Don't talk nonsense, Zenobia. You are a little child. Return to the Ravenclaw Tower immediately or I will take you there by force."

The stubborn child did not have time to retort before Duncan flailed his arms to get Samuel's attention, shouting like an idiot something along the lines of "Proudly pureblood!" and consequently drawing many disgusted, hurt stares upon himself.

In response, Helga's descendant nodded amusedly in the direction of the fat Ravenclaw boy, chuckling to himself before turning his back on him and going back to talking to his mates.

Anne's face became a mask of hostility, and the long ginger hair that framed her delicate features seemed to emphasise her fury even more: if she were a full-blooded Veela, at that moment she would have certainly turned into a harpy.

"You are being silly." She said, pointing the forefinger of her right hand against Zenobia's chest and then quickly shifting it to Duncan's. "And you are shite, Hobhouse. Agreeing to accompany a - a little child here and encouraging her to - to get the attention of a lad much older than her? You disgust me." She turned her back on him only to turn sharply towards him again a moment later. "Ah, if I were you, I would avoid proclaiming your belief in blood status to Garreth. He is particularly active for Muggle rights, and, from what I know, he is the only one who sometimes speaks to you out of pity - kind as he is. It would be a shame if he too were to suddenly treat you like the worm you are."

Breaking out in a cold sweat at the Troll Slayer's contempt, Duncan tugged Zenobia by the arm and retreated to a corner of the Clock Tower Entrance as a murmur of resentful, outraged remarks accompanied his pacing.

Sebastian approached Anne and gently brushed her left hand with his as his deep dark eyes sought hers.

"Red, do you want us to leave?" He asked, sensing her inner turmoil and looking around as if the scene was nothing like he had imagined when he had suggested they drop by the club.

"I want to duel with my brother, Sebastian. I want to show how pathetic he is to - to this adoring crowd that seems to hang on his every word!"

"Red, I am ready to duel by your side, as always. But are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Of course. We came here to have fun, right?"

"Yes, we came here to have fun, but you look like you're not having fun at all."

Anne belittled Sebastian's concerns shrugging her shoulders, then she turned without hesitation to her hated brother and took a few steps towards him, holding her breath.

"Good evening, brother. You told me this morning that I have no excuse to refuse to duel with you, or did you? Well, here I am." The rosy lips of the Troll Slayer stretched into a forced smile as she did an overdramatic, mocking curtsy to the small clique of lads gathered around Samuel Smith.

"Ah, good." He uttered boredly without even saying goodbye. "I promised to duel with my friend tonight, though. He asked me to train him."

"Not a problem at all for me. The more the merrier, right?" Snarled Anne with excessive animosity before turning to her duelling partner. "Sebastian!" She called loudly.

In truth, there would have been no need to shout at all, because the Slytherin heartthrob was already at her side and was nervously scratching the back of his head, messing up his soft brown hair with a serious expression plastered on his face that betrayed, not so much agitation at the idea of duelling, as his concern for the lovely ginger.

Suddenly something seemed to catch Samuel’s attention.

He looked at his sister, then at Sebastian, then he cast his gaze over their shoulders as if looking for someone in the crowd.

"Your pretty friend is Sallow’s sister? Is she here?" He asked with apparent nonchalance.

But Anne had already turned her back on him, pretending not to have heard a word, and as she made her way to the opposite side of the arena nervously stripping off her Slytherin robes, she felt a new wave of anger ignite within her.

"Red, I'm not your wet nurse so I won't ask you again if you're feeling alright." Sebastian told her as he undressed in turn, rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt to elbow height with his back to the centre of the arena and his gaze fixed on the iron gate in front of him. "However, I think -"

''Stop thinking, Sebastian. Or rather, think only of casting curses and hexes. Aren't you the one who usually jumps into the fray without hesitation?"

"…The past has taught me that sometimes it would be better to hesitate before fucking up."

Sebastian breathed in deeply and performed a few warm-up exercises - the well-defined muscles of his chest and shoulders were easily discernible even through the cotton of his shirt, yet the female audience seemed to prefer the tawdry spectacle offered by his red-haired opponent.

Anne was all trembling as she stepped into the arena with her wand drawn. Sebastian watched her closely, and for the first time he realised something she had told him a long time before, the very night she had broken his heart: the two of them were just too much alike.

Wild and reckless, they always risked making serious mistakes whenever their emotions got the better of them and, above all else, they could never say no to each other. They always had each other's back even when one of them would have done better to remain lucid. Anne had once supported Sebastian in his delirium and followed him into Feldcroft Catacombs just as he was now about to back her up in a rather difficult duel despite having realised she was beside herself with rage and burdened with negative emotions.

"The sad truth is that we are dangerous together, Sebastian."

Her words thundered through his mind, an echo from the past that set his memory ablaze like fire - words he had heard, accepted, but of which he only now suddenly understood the meaning.

And yet, Sebastian silently assumed a fighting stance beside Anne, perfectly attuned to her emotions and her body language: taut nerves and wand at the ready.

Lucan stepped forward to announce the beginning of the duel as he was wont to do and barely had time to utter a few words before the fair ginger snapped forward without even curtsying to the adversaries.

"Bombarda!" She shouted, aiming the ebony spiral at her opponents.

The roar of the powerful explosion that followed was muffled by the spells that had been cast earlier by the Prefects, but its destructive force remained deadly. Samuel and his duelling partner were barely in time to cast Protego upon them; their protective shields absorbed the devastating impact of the explosion, vibrating as if they might shatter in a matter of seconds. There was a moment's hesitation on the part of the Hufflepuff boys before Samuel recovered and surged forward in turn - soft ginger locks, so similar to his sister's, fluttered around his handsome countenance as he gracefully flicked his wand, casting a non-verbal spell. An instant later, a huge snarling badger was galloping across the arena to pounce on the Slytherin duellists. Sebastian drew the mustelid's wrath upon himself, while Anne undauntedly pressed on with her assault.

"Levioso!" She shouted, moving swiftly and managing to catch her brother off guard.

Her expressive dark eyes shone with excitement as she foretasted her victory, but the Slytherin girl was so focused on her opponent that she failed to consider his duelling partner, who was just as quick to mutter "Finite Incantatem" and free his friend from the spell.

As Samuel's feet touched the ground, he pointed his wand at Anne shouting "Confringo!" and she had no time to react.

She found herself dodging the Blasting Curse as she tried to leap to her left, but the exploding bolt of fire grazed her right forearm as she tried to use it to shield her face from the blow. The Troll Slayer fell to her knees clutching her own arm and screaming in pain before the stunned gaze of Lucan and the rest of the audience.

Her heart was beating so fast in her chest that it seemed about to explode. She looked up at her opponents, who were already pointing their wands at her to finish her off.

"No - this is not possible!" Anne thought frantically as she realised she was on the brink of defeat.

Just then, however, Sebastian transfigured the angry badger summoned by Samuel Smith into a giant spectral hand that hurled itself ominously at the Hufflepuff duellists. It was as black as ink and had long claws resembling those of a nightmarish beast - one glance was enough for Anne to imagine that it was one of the many sorceries Sebastian had learned during his nightly visits to the Restricted Section of the Library.

Samuel and his duelling partner were momentarily taken aback, and they backed away from the floating spectre and out of the arena, decreeing the end of the match.

Clever and inventive, Sebastian made the spectral hand disappear with an elegant flick of his wand; he allowed himself but a moment to stretch his attractive lips into a victorious smile before rushing to kneel at Anne's side. Lucan threw him a Wiggenweld Potion, which he did not hesitate to feed to the lovely ginger.

"Hey, good thing your duelling partner is fierce, red. What happened? Were you careless?" He murmured, helping her to her feet as he stroked the smooth white skin of her forearm to make sure the burn had healed.

All around them echoed the cackles of the crowd while Anne could feel the heat of the searing defeat that had literally and figuratively burned her as it dig its way to her heart.

For the second time that day, the Keeper had been distracted and fooled like an inexperienced fledgling.

Sure Marvolo and Samuel were both capable duellists and dangerous wizards, but she was supposed to better than them. She was better than them!

Her magic was mightier, untamed, ancient.

How was it possible that she had twice been defeated in single combat after she had single-handedly turned the tide of a civil war?

Far too blinded by the intensity of her negative emotions to realise that it was they who had betrayed her twice that day, Anne clung to Sebastian, hoping her long ginger hair would cover the tears that threatened to streak her cheeks.

"Let's go back to the Slytherin common room, Sebastian. I have lost the will to duel."

"Oh, Ominis!"

Anne's melodious voice echoed faintly in the silence of the half-deserted dungeon. Relief and trepidation lit up her face as she descended the steps leading down to the snake pit, quickening her pace and leaving Sebastian behind.

Ominis was seated at a small table in the centre of the common room, opposite him was Imelda and between them a chessboard. Most of their housemates had already retired to their respective dormitories, a few were still awake. Standing behind Ominis was Anne Sallow, who had just finished chatting with a small group of third-year girls and now seemed intent on taking a seat next to the blind serpent to watch him play. He looked frazzled and tired, but the fact that he was quietly engaged in such a trivial activity as playing wizard's chess immediately lightened the heart of the lovely ginger: whatever had happened after they had parted that afternoon must have somehow been settled.

Anne Smith's light footsteps reached the sensitive ears of the Heir of Slytherin, and the blank look in his blind blue eyes suddenly became softer, relaxed, like that of a cat being petted by its owner while it purrs.

"My sweet love, you are here at last." He murmured once she had approached - apparently not the least bit ashamed to address her so intimately in front of the other girls.

However, Imelda and Anne Sallow blushed slightly and stood up from the table, smiling embarrassedly as if Ominis had expressed a desire to be alone with his sweetheart without needing to put the request into words. Sebastian joined the young ladies and motioned for them to sit a few tables away from the couple, hugging his sister tightly as soon as he was near her to ask her caringly how her evening had been, since they had not crossed paths during supper.

"Ominis, my love, I have been so worried... " Whispered the Troll Slayer, sitting down in the seat that had been occupied by Imelda until a short while before as the pieces of the magic chessboard in front of her returned to their starting positions, waiting for another match to be played. "The more hours passed, the more I feared that there had been some trouble - that something had gone wrong with your father and Marvolo... "

Ominis immediately leaned over the table, stretching his right hand out. Anne smiled and gently grasped it, intertwining her fingers with his and closing her eyes for a moment to focus on the sound of his velvety voice.

"Everything worked out for the best, Anne. I had no doubt about that. It was as productive a conversation as it was slow and tedious, that's all." He sighed deeply, as visibly tired as he was relieved and calm. "Obviously, what happened to the Three Broomsticks is quite unfortunate. Not only did my father have to apologise to Headmaster Black and Mr Moon, but he also wanted to discuss with his best friend what action to take against Marvolo. Naturally, Father has not insisted on having Marvolo hired as a caretaker: his pathetic behaviour has made Father even more aware of the fact that he is hopeless."

Anne squeezed Ominis' hand and stared at his handsome features as a smile lit up her face.

"To say I am relieved is an understatement! It would have been terrible to have Marvolo as the castle caretaker - it would have made our lives a nightmare, I don't even want to think about it."

"I promised you I wouldn't let that happen - at the cost of clashing fiercely with my father. And I stayed in that damn study for hours just to make sure things went the way we wanted."

"You must be tired now."

He smiled as he tilted his head to the side, his thin lips playfully curved upwards shaping on his face that smooth, clever expression that she loved above all else.

"I am very tired, yes. Hours spent listening to my father and my loathsome brother shout at each other before the embarrassed gaze of the Headmaster - we haven't even dined." Ominis paused and leaned in again to kiss Anne's delicate hand still clasped in his bigger one. "You want to know the best part of it?"

''Your father disowned Marvolo?"

"For the time being, no. But he will be sending him away from the Gaunt Mansion in the near future to live without income in a modest shack we own near Little Hangleton. He is no longer interested in redeeming him in the eyes of society - he will find him a pureblood wife of modest lineage making sure her family is desperate enough to accept a bargain."

Her gaze turned sorrowful and rested on the chessboard in front of her.

"Poor thing, whoever she may be." She murmured thoughtfully.

"We can only hope she will be as cruel a witch as he is and not an innocent victim."

"Do you think - do you think he will finally leave us alone when he is married?"

Anne had spoken with an edge to her voice, apprehension and fear barely discernible in the tremor that had cut her words short.

Ominis nervously ran his left hand through his soft blond hair, taking a moment to reply.

"No. He won't, Anne." He thought bitterly.

And that thought took shape on his face without him being able to hide his emotions.

Marvolo was consumed by his lust for Anne Smith: in his eyes Ominis' betrothed was nothing more than his property of which his crippled little brother had misappropriated, defying him and provoking him to react violently. He would never stop lusting after Anne's body and wishing Ominis dead, and he had already proven time and again that he was determined in his intent - he was just waiting for the right moment to strike, like a snake holed up in a pit waiting patiently for its prey to come closer and snap.

"My love, I have told you once and I will tell you again: I am not afraid of my brother anymore. Let him come - let him try and harm you. I will be the one to harm him." He paused and leaned his back against the cushion of his chair without letting go of her hand. "For now, let us enjoy the moment - everything is as it should be, my love: us safe and my brother left to roll in his own shite."

There was a faint feminine giggle.

"You're right, everything is as it should be."

"Yes. Well, on second thought maybe not quite."

She glanced at him, alarmed anew - doubt and uncertainty reflected in her sweet dark eyes.

"What do you mean?!"

He chuckled softly and his laughter turned into another tired sigh.

"You are standing too far away from me."

Joy and complicity returned to grace the delicate features of the fair ginger who leapt up from her chair to throw herself into the arms of the Heir of Slytherin.

"Ow, my balls!" He grunted, unable to help but laugh in amusement as he brought a hand to his groin where she had just sat with too much enthusiasm. "Be careful, my love." He murmured in her ear, making her blush.

They laughed in unison, softly, finally relaxing as her arms tightened around his neck.

There was a moment's hesitation, then Anne dared to kiss Ominis without feeling ashamed of being in a common space. The gestures of the lovely ginger were slow, sensual; her rosy lips caressed his as if to invite him to kiss her more ardently only to retract every time he angled his head trying to slide his tongue against her soft skin.

The right hand of the Heir of Slytherin passionately grasped the neck of his betrothed to hold her still and put an end to her sensual teasing so that he could finally kiss her fiercely, but she still managed to withdraw and keep him on his toes - small, delicate bites followed the touch of her lips preventing him from conquering her tempting mouth as he would have liked. Suddenly his left hand snaked towards her chest, nonchalantly moving her Slytherin robes to the side to touch her breasts as his erection swelled in the flap of his breeches accompanied by a ragged grunt.

"We're still in time to leave the dungeons, Anne. I bet your new grand piano has already been set up in the Room of Requirement. If you'd like, you can play something for me, and afterwards we could..."

He never finished his sentence, he merely palmed her breasts more firmly to let her know his intentions as he silently cursed her shirt and corset.

"Alright, but now pull yourself together, Lord Gaunt." She whispered, giggling embarrassedly as she gently removed his hand from her breasts, trying to ignore the way his erection pressed against her bottom.

"Anne, will you retire to our chambers with us? We didn't get a chance to chat over dinner!"

Anne Sallow's bright, innocent voice reached the ears of the shameless couple, making them jerk in the seat where they were snuggled up to each other.

"My goodness, what a revolting sight." Imelda said with a mixture of sincere disgust and equally sincere relief discernible in the tone of her voice. "I note with pleasure that Lord Gaunt has made up with his precious princess."

"We never had a fight, Imelda..." Babbled Anne Smith in blatant embarrassment as she stood up adjusting the skirt of her uniform in the hope of appearing nonchalant as she slipped it back to cover her slender legs. "I'll happily join you for a little chat before bed, however, can I at least play a quick game of wizard's chess with Ominis first?" She added, moving back to sit across from him. "I won't be long, I am quick when it comes to beating him."

Ominis laughed, genuinely amused as he crossed his legs to hide his erection - way more nonchalant and spontaneous than his fair ginger had been.

Sebastian laughed along with him and took a seat at the table while his sister and Imelda did the same. They spent half an hour chatting together while Anne Smith and Ominis absent-mindedly played wizard's chess just for the sake of spending more time in each other's company before saying goodbye.

At first the conversation was pleasant, but when the blind serpent asked his best friend and his sweetheart if they had had a good time at Crossed Wands - which Imelda had briefly mentioned to him when they had met by chance in the common room - the Keeper felt herself sinking again into a sea of black anguish.

She, better than most, knew how much even the most trivial mistake during a duel could cost - she had faced many a challenge, deadly and of the most crucial importance. She knew what it meant to risk - to risk big. And she could not explain to herself the stupidity and the sloppiness she had demonstrated that day.

For while it was true that Ranrok was dead and his Loyalists disbanded, it was equally true that she still had living enemies that were just as lethal.

First among them was Marvolo, the hated brother of the love of her life, who had openly sworn vengeance on him so that he could one day bind her in his coils.

Then there was Theophilius Harlow, who was serving his sentence in Azkaban while dreaming of the day he could avenge Victor Rookwood's death. And that poor bastard knew all about the secret of the Keeper: he knew what was hidden in the foundations of Hogwarts and what his brotherly friend had tried to achieve with his ill-fated alliance with Ranrok's Loyalists.

Then there was her own brother, the arrogant git, and even though he posed no mortal threat, he was still an annoying arsehole that she would have to deal with sooner or later.

The stakes were too high for her, the Fifth Keeper, to let her guard down and dare to commit even the slightest mistake!

When they retired to their dormitory, the young ladies wandered to the girls' lavatory to brush their hair and continue gossiping. While Anne Sallow and Imelda chatted amiably, Anne Smith stood silently looking at herself in the mirror as if in a trance. When her friends had finished their beauty routine and declared themselves ready for bed, she waved them off with a smile and continued to brush her long ginger hair hysterically as she kept on reliving the horrifying memory of floating in the air completely at the mercy of her sworn enemy.

"I must find my warrior self again. I am surrounded by enemies who play dirty, I cannot afford to let my guard down - I must be ready to fight fire with fire!" She thought as she looked at her reflection in the mirror.

Her attention was suddenly drawn to the muffled noise of what sounded like a huge slithering body intent on moving not far from her. Then came a serpentine hiss, deep and cavernous, distinctly different from Ominis' cold, velvety one.

Anne knew that voice.

"Few rats. Always so few. And too great is my hunger."

The voice spoke with resignation as the crawling sound grew louder, and the Keeper looked around frantically, unable to tell if the noise was coming from the ceiling or the floor.

"Where are you? How did you leave the Chamber?" She asked with an uncertain, trembling hiss.

There was a pause and the slithering body stopped its motion.

"The Heir's mate." Whispered the Basilisk as if speaking to himself. "It is always a pleasure to hear the sound of your voice, my sweet Lady." He then added addressing her.

"What are you doing here!"

"I am hungry, my Lady. Too hungry. And the rats are scarce."

"Are you... hunting?" Her expressive dark eyes continued to dart from corner to corner in the girls' lavatory as a slight sense of panic crept into her mind.

"Yes. But if it displeases my Lady, I will endure the hunger. At your bidding, my sweet Lady."

"You may - you may continue to hunt. But don't hurt anyone! Stay hidden."

"I kill only if the Heir commands it, my Lady."

A shiver ran down Anne's spine. She made to speak, but her voice died in her throat with a broken gasp.

There was a long silence.

Anne thought the Basilisk had crawled away down the castle pipes without her noticing, then the beast spoke again, showing unexpected discernment and a sensitivity that was almost human.

"Your voice is broken, my sweet Lady. What ails you? If anyone threatens you, I shall kill for you. I shall protect the precious mate of my Master."

"No! No, that - that will not be necessary."

Silence fell again. Then the Basilisk's body began to slither down the pipe once more as his cavernous hissing permeated the air.

"Very well. But remember, my Lady: your wish is my command. The Heir's betrothed is family to me - you are one of us. If you need aid, you shall get it."

This time when silence fell, it was no longer interrupted.

Anne Smith stood before the mirror with brush in hand. The words of the Basilisk suddenly ignited a spark in her mind and a strange idea - as bold as it was foolish - began to take shape in her thoughts: she was indeed Ominis' betrothed, and as the unwilling Heir of Slytherin had once told her, she had the right to claim what little good his decadent heritage had to offer.

She had many enemies. Too many responsibilities. And she needed help - or rather all the help she could get.

Why not deepen her knowledge beyond what Ominis had already taught her and beyond what the Keepers could still offer her?

There was one person, now dead and buried, who had mastered Ancient Magic far better than her mentors in the Map Chamber.

A person she loathed and feared. But one she could exploit.

And she knew exactly where to look for him.

Chapter Text

Anne Smith did not sleep at all that night. She kept tossing and turning in the sheets of her bed as she obsessively thought back to her failures from the day before.

Had the Fifth Keeper been a different, more self-confident person, it would have been very easy to accept the fact that even the very best sometimes might make a mistake. Instead - harsh on herself more than anyone else - she kept cursing her carelessness, her inadequacy. She kept telling herself that she was in no position to make even the slightest of mistakes, given what was at stake and given how much the Wizarding World relied on her silent, heroic efforts.

"I will never become Marvolo's victim! Nor anybody else's. I must return to strenuous training and diligent study - I must learn more until I know every secret of the Ancient Magic that runs through my veins! Whatever it takes!" The lovely ginger kept repeating to herself in the silence of her dormitory as the faint snoring of the other Slytherin girls accompanied her obsessive brooding.

In the few moments when her consciousness managed to drift from wakefulness to sleep, the Keeper nervously gnashed her teeth and bit her soft lips with such persistence that when she woke up she found her mouth was visibly reddened.

In vain she tried to rub the swelling away as she brushed her teeth in the girls' lavatory before breakfast.

None of her housemates had risen as early as she had, and - glad she did not have to share common areas with the other young ladies - she took her time and calmly plaited her hair the way Scrope had taught her long before. The daffodil flower Ominis had placed in her hair the previous day had already wilted, and so Anne used her enchanted rose as an accessory to embellish her hairstyle.

Slipping a sage leaf under her tongue to freshen her breath, she allowed herself to snort for a few more minutes as she looked at herself in the mirror before joining Ominis in the common room.

The night before, they had agreed to meet at seven thirty the following morning so they could have a quick breakfast and then head to the Library before class.

Sixth year's curriculum included many hours of Transfiguration in the first term, and the Deputy Headmistress was as much an empathetic witch as she was a demanding, strict teacher, which was why Anne and Ominis needed to catch up on her subject straight away: she hadn't paid attention to the first lesson of the year because she had found herself chasing her thoughts in a frenzy, and he hadn't really had a chance to attend because of the unpleasant incident they had been involved in.

When she descended the enchanted stairs at the entrance to the girls' dormitory, she found her blond knight already waiting for her, propped up against the railing with a lazy countenance and a leather satchel slung over his shoulder.

Once they had reached the Great Hall, they found it almost deserted: the only teacher intent on having breakfast at the High Table was Professor Sharp and the only students already sitting at the Slytherin table were none other than themselves.

Trying to hurry up, she served them both a bowl of porridge, which they ate in silence.

That vague sense of anguish that continued to stir and agitate Anne was suddenly alleviated when Ominis' right hand came to gently caress the back of her neck - long fingers entwined in soft ginger locks in a spontaneous, lazy gesture. A hum of approval rose up in his throat as he brushed the petals of his enchanted rose adorning the very centre of her plait at the nape of her neck. She leaned her head on his shoulder and they continued to eat their porridge that way, one holding the other close at the breakfast table.

That comfortable silence that Ominis always favoured in the morning right after waking up, kept them company even as they walked at a leisurely pace towards the Library.

"Here we are. Model students, are we not?" She said with a hint of sarcasm as they crossed the threshold of the reading room.

"We are anything but model students, my love. We are just very bright and thrive on our wits."

"For being very bright you don't catch sarcasm, Gaunt."

Ominis' blind blue eyes sparkled with delight as he struggled to keep his expression neutral, the way he always did when he and his incomparable witty girl playfully teased each other.

"I caught the sarcasm, Smith. I just felt the need to point out the truth such is my intellectual honesty."

"Intellectual honesty my arse! You're an obnoxious nitpicker, that's all."

His velvety laughter echoed softly in the deserted Library, and a few moments later her feminine giggles could also be heard as the young Slytherin couple advanced, hand in hand, towards Madam Scribner's desk.

The librarian lifted her gaze from the book she was reading to rest it with an exceedingly disgusted air upon the laughing youths; when her eye eventually fell upon their entwined fingers, her wrinkled lips distorted into a grin of contemptuous disdain.

"How can I help you, dears?" Madam Scribner asked in a way that made it obvious how much it cost her to be polite to those naughty young snakes, and how much she hoped to have an excuse to take points from their House.

"We would like to consult the first edition of the Guide to Advanced Transfiguration kept in the castle archive." Ominis replied, kind and polite as ever.

"Hmm, in the first edition of the Guide to Advanced Transfiguration were presented some very bizarre ideas about the very nature of the subject. But the Deputy Headmistress is fond of that kind of notions." Replied the librarian, giving herself airs and graces as if she thought herself to be better versed than Professor Weasley. "The first edition of the Guide to Advanced Transfiguration in our possession has already been requested this morning. It's being consulted right now -"

"It's already been requested?! Is there someone who arrived here before us and requested that very tome?" Anne asked looking disappointed as her slender shoulders sagged comically downwards in disbelief.

"That's right, Miss Smith. What do you think? The professors may consider you a ‘great heroine’, but you don't get any special privileges in my library. Next time - if you really care to study - you'll make sure you arrive earliest!"

At those words - before Anne could grasp the ill-concealed disdain they oozed - Ominis stiffened. For a moment he seemed about to say something, and judging by the expression darkening his face, it must have been some kind of insult. Then, the blind serpent ran a hand through his soft blond hair and pulled himself together as if that gesture had served to physically clear his thoughts.

"We do our best, Madam Scribner. The fact that we are here so early in the morning isn't indication enough of our goodwill and commitment to becoming better students?" He said whilst maintaining his composure yet making no effort to smile.

"Well, I - I would say - well, yes, Mr Gaunt." Muttered the librarian caught off guard by the impeccable politeness of the Heir of Slytherin even in the face of her open rudeness towards his fiancée, also known as Hogwarts' valiant saviour. "Surely there is an intention to improve - even on the part of irreverent Miss Smith. Try asking the other students if they don't mind sharing the reading - they're sitting over there, just before the stairs."

Anne was fuming such was her anger at being belittled for no apparent reason, and for a moment fury and resentment flashed in her expressive dark eyes as she was about to unleash all the irreverence she was actually capable of showing towards authority when she felt in the mood to defy it. But before she could utter a single word, Ominis guided her to the other side of the reading room, gently resting his left hand on the small of her back to push her away from the old librarian.

"It wouldn't be worth it, my love. She is just a dry old witch envious of those who live life instead of reading about it in books." He whispered in her ear, preceding her angry outburst.

"I still would have gladly let her know where she can shove that stuck-up cunt attitude of hers!"

"What for? To get a detention and spend the day inside the Detention Chamber? Learn to pick your fights with more discernment, Keeper."

Anne wrinkled her nose in an expression at once astounded and hurt by that remark.

Ominis was only trying to give her good advice, his behaviour and intent towards her were protective and loving as usual, but the words he chose struck his fair ginger right in the centre of her insecurities - the very ones she had been mulling over all night after being overpowered in duel by both their hated brothers.

She wasn't enough. Not clever enough. Not strong enough. Not fast enough. Not wise enough.

She wasn't enough!

And as her feet carried her to the shared table set between the spiral staircases leading to the upper floor of the Library, her expression suddenly turned sullen until her gaze rested on the lads who had requested the first edition of the Guide to Advanced Transfiguration: at that moment her face morphed into a mask of stunned hatred.

"May Merlin smite him!" Anne thought as her rosy lips distorted into a disgusted sneer, parting just enough to let out words laced with anger. "What are you doing here at this hour, brother?"

Of course the person who had requested the first edition of the Guide to Advanced Transfiguration at eight o'clock on a most ordinary Thursday morning was her brother!

Who else but him?

Samuel Smith was sitting at the Library desk in disarray: his Hufflepuff robes were hanging off the back of his chair and his uniform shirt was undone by several buttons while a yellow tie dangled at the sides of his neck, unknotted.

Anne wondered why her vain prick of a brother felt the need to show off his well-defined chest in a place like the Library, and she also wondered why Madam Scribner hadn't reprimanded him, given the solicitude with which she was wont to scold any student who didn't behave appropriately within her sanctuary. Before she could give herself any answers - answers that were, admittedly, very easy to find - the attention of the Slytherin girl was drawn to the person sitting opposite Samuel.

Scratching his short black curls like a mad scientist in a fit of genius, Arthur was taking notes on a scroll while his housemate patiently read out a series of jottings while keeping the Guide to Advanced Transfiguration open on the table.

Slowly, Samuel turned to Anne and squared her from head to toe with piercing dark eyes veiled almost imperceptibly with hostility and annoyance.

"I don't like the tone you used to address me, sister." He said with the same deliberate slowness it had taken him to turn to look at her.

"She just asked you a question, Smith." Ominis interjected in a calm yet icy tone of voice. "Early in the morning we're all a bit more abrupt than usual, aren't we?" He added in jest as he gently wrapped his left arm around Anne, holding her tightly to him.

With one elegant gesture he was sending a message to both Smith siblings: he was asking his sweet fiancée to pull herself together and be calm while reminding the red-haired badger that it was not convenient for him to behave like an arsehole.

Samuel shifted his gaze to Ominis and - much to the annoyance of his sister - his expression immediately turned respectful and obsequious.

In him, Anne saw once again the inherent misogynism that men like Headmaster Black or Lord Gormlaith Gaunt always showed - she saw a young man looking at his future brother-in-law with respect, fear and admiration, and she suddenly realised that despite her heroic deeds as a Keeper she would never be treated with that same respect in certain circles of high society in the Wizarding World.

"Who cares about the rich purebloods from high society! I sure don't! I have Ominis by my side - the most loyal and loving companion one could wish for. I don't care what mindless arseholes the likes of my brother or my future in-laws think." She thought trying to persuade herself that the sense of inferiority and inadequacy she was beginning to feel more and more intensely was in fact not bothering her at all.

"Good day, Ominis." Samuel greeted in the meantime. "Not at all a problem, indeed - it can happen to be brusque, especially in the morning. Apology accepted, little sister."

The emotional, fiery Troll Slayer was already about to retort and point out the fact that no one had offered an apology, but the cold, calculating Heir of Slytherin intervened to her aid as he was wont to do.

"I'm glad we sorted out the misunderstanding, Smith."

"Me too. I'm here with my housemate, Arthur. I'm tutoring him in Transfiguration since it's one of his favourite subjects and since I received an excellent education in Durmstrang."

"I simply don't know how to repay you, Smith!" Arthur babbled without stopping writing as he held his breath in excitement.

"Samuel." Helga Hufflepuff's descendant corrected him with a smile adorning his handsome features. "You will repay me earning points for Hufflepuff thanks to my teachings - that's obvious! So will the other lads I'm currently training in duelling. You are the only one interested in Transfiguration as well as fighting forms, that alone does you credit."

Ominis cocked his head to the side and his thin lips stretched into one of those smiles that Anne knew to be forced, but which no one else would be able to perceive as fake.

"Noble of you to share your experience abroad to help your fellow housemates shine, Smith. There is only one copy of the first edition of the Guide to Advanced Transfiguration in the archive, and we could have used to consult it too."

"Certainly, Ominis. By all means, take it. I requested it because the preface has content that, however outdated, is still very interesting to look at from a modern perspective. However, Arthur and I are in no hurry, we can continue at another time."

Ominis had been able to show his dominant, intimidating side once again and without even coming off as hostile. He hadn't even asked his request directly, but Samuel had immediately given in as if to show that he wasn't looking for a fight with the young heir of House Gaunt.

Now the red-haired badger was intent on handing him the tome with a polite smile plastered on his face - the silver ring with Helga Hufflepuff's seal carved in amber shimmered on the strong, pale hand he held resting on the leather cover of the book.

The chestnut stalk vibrated just slightly in Ominis' right hand, inviting him to meet the challenge.

"Go ahead and take the book you wished to read, my love." He murmured, leaning his head towards Anne's to silently emphasise the fact that it was at her request that Samuel was yielding.

As his lovely ginger quietly picked up the book, Ominis moved his left hand from her side to possessively caress her neck, blatantly showing his signet ring as well.

"Are you satisfied, my love? Choose a table, we still have some time to study." He told her with genuine fondness. "Much obliged, Smith. And good day to you." He coldly added.

"Not to worry, Ominis. Good studying, sweet little sister."

Anne detected a note of sarcasm that made her hair instinctively stand up on the back of her neck as she turned from Samuel, clutching the Guide to Advanced Transfiguration in her arms as if it were a rock to cling to in the midst of a stormy sea. She walked towards the table in the middle of the main floor of the Library - the small, ornamental one surrounded by comfortable green armchairs - and she shook her head as if to put that unpleasant encounter behind her, lashing the air with her long plait of ginger hair.

"Of all the people we could have met, that bloody bastard brother of mine!"

"I'm terribly sorry, my love. And believe me, I know how it feels. Last year was the first year I finally got to attend Hogwarts alone after the youngest of my brothers graduated."

"And then I came along just when you thought you could finally be at peace."

Ominis' blind blue eyes sparkled once more as love and relief were reflected in his glazed irises at hearing Anne hint at a quip despite her obvious displeasure.

"Oh, one might say that you swept over me like the most perfect of storms. Who knows, perhaps it was because I thought I could be at ease and consequentially let my guard down." He whispered, taking a seat in the chair to Anne's right. "All jesting aside though, I'm truly sorry we ran into him. I know how much it upsets you to see him."

"I challenged him to a duel yesterday and got a Blasting Curse to my forearm. A defeat that burned worse than my flesh. If I wasn't entirely humiliated, it was only thanks to Sebastian."

"...I sensed this from the way you clammed up last night when we talked about it. I avoided harping on it because it didn't seem appropriate in front of the others, but if you feel like talking about it -"

Anne placed the heavy tome in her arms on the small table and shook her head, muttering a soft “no”. Suddenly she felt breathless again - her heartbeats fast and out of control. For a moment she was tempted to change the subject, then plucked up her courage and tried to open up to Ominis in the hope that he, as usual, would be able to dispel all her worries.

"Ominis, Sebastian spared me a humiliation at Crossed Wands, but yesterday I was in far greater danger at the Three Broomsticks. Marvolo, he - he had me in his grasp and - and it was you who saved me. I feel -"

He turned and tenderly groped for her hands.

"Anne, my love, I promised you, didn't I? I will always protect you, even at the cost of my own life. Let my brother or anyone else try to hurt you!" He whispered with resolve, stretching his thin lips into a reassuring smile.

Anne went mad with love every time Ominis so boldly declared his devotion to her. She felt protected and sheltered by his dominant, attentive nature. She felt weak in the knees every time he showed both his physical and his mental strength to her.

But.

In that circumstance Anne needed to be told that she was powerful and able to stand up for herself.

She needed reassurance of her own worth, not of his devotion and of the fact that he would always be there for her.

And even that last meeting with her brother, however brief, had unsettled her for the simple reason that, had it not been for Ominis, Samuel would have disrespected her yet again. And her blond knight had been gallant, protective, perfect even, in his polite coldness - yet Anne wished she could earn that respect herself, she wanted to be sure she would be able to stand up for herself in difficult situations.

Her gaze fell on the grim gates that delimited the perimeter of the Restricted Section of the Library as her teeth came to bite down on her soft lips anew as they had done during the past night. Suddenly, she was reminded of the bold idea that had occurred to her while talking to the Basilisk.

There was another place, as forbidden as it was cursed, that she could visit in search of answers on Ancient Magic - in search of power and knowledge. A place where she could prove to herself that her might was destined to grow with the right training.

She opened her mouth brightening up.

She was about to share her thoughts with Ominis, then suddenly her insecurities stirred up new doubts and uncertainties, causing her to sink even lower into her spiral of delirious anxiety.

She closed her mouth and lowered her gaze to the Guide to Advanced Transfiguration lying on the table in front of her.

Ominis was the most important person on the face of the Earth to her and his judgement mattered more than anything else in the world - being on the same page with him was as vital to her as breathing air! It had always been that way from the beginning.

What if he now judged her weak, deranged or - worst even - undeserving of his trust?

What if he had laughed at her, or worse, shouted at her for the idea that had popped into her head?

It was Ominis who had told her - albeit reluctantly - in life she would be forced to defend herself without relying on White Magic alone, given the dangers she would be forced to face. It was he who had taught her Parseltongue and the darkest secrets his family had forced him to learn from an early age - Dark Magic, of the worst kind.

But what if he now thought she wanted to go too far?

Anne couldn't bear to disappoint him - to see disgust aimed at her painted on his princely features.

She could not bear to risk losing him.

…But she still needed answers - she needed to test herself and gain knowledge beyond what the Keepers could offer her.

"Come on, let's try and study. We still have half an hour to spare before we have to show up for class."

Ominis' velvety voice brought her back to the present moment. He was holding out his left hand to her while with his right he held his sentient wand, tapping the cover of the tome they had borrowed to open it.

"Let's do it like this: we study on our own and before leaving we share our notes. I love it when you amaze me with your reasoning after keeping me in the dark about your thought processes."

"Really?" She hesitantly asked as she clutched his hand, intertwining her pale fingers with his long ones.

"Yes, I am always fascinated to hear your insights - I would listen to you speak for hours, witty girl. It makes me proud to listen to you when you tell me about your achievements, whether it's studying or other things. I really do think you're astoundingly clever, Anne, I'm not just saying that."

Anne smiled shyly to herself.

"Perhaps I could take this bold initiative on my own and then... tell him about my achievements later?" She thought, closing her eyes to enjoy the moment as he gently stroked the back of her hand.

Anne and Ominis made the most of the time they had to catch up for the second class with Professor Weasley, as they had agreed. They reached the Transfiguration Classroom just in time to take their seats before the lesson began; Sebastian was already waiting for them at the three-seater desk he and Anne had chosen to occupy the day before while his sister sat on the other side of the room alongside Amit and Imelda.

Arriving at class about ten minutes late for lingering in the Library with Samuel Smith, Arthur cost Hufflepuff five points - points which, however, he was able to regain by a wide margin over the course of the morning, leaving the Deputy Headmistress speechless with his thoughts on the preface to the Guide to Advanced Transfiguration which he compared with what had been written in the first edition of the tome.

If Professor Weasley wondered how Arthur had come up with those arguments, Anne didn't need to wonder, given the unpleasant encounter that had taken place before class began.

To think that - in his innocence and naivety - her half-blood friend paid respect to her stupid idiot of a brother without probably even realising his belief in blood status only fuelled her anger.

How was it possible that everyone only stopped to consider his good looks and his seemingly friendly and calm manners? Yet Anne could not blame them, not entirely: some things can only be discovered if one becomes deeply acquainted with someone. Samuel Smith was probably - nay, definitely - very pleasant when dealing with people he considered to be ‘his equal’. And he was good at balancing his words, keeping his beliefs to himself so as to be able to maintain good relations with everyone. Come to think of it, he was the exact opposite of Ominis, who was considered by everyone to be sullen and unapproachable when in truth he was just reserved. Yet Anne was convinced that many thought he was an arsehole, fearing the Heir of Slytherin with reverence without knowing what a kind, gentle and noble soul hid behind his façade of detached coldness.

"How deceiving appearances can be..." Anne thought sadly as she stood on her tiptoes, throwing her arms around Ominis' neck while he was tidying up his stationery in his satchel at the end of class.

"To what do I owe this most unexpected kiss?" He asked, smiling against her lips as he enjoyed a kiss as sweet as it was stolen right in the middle of the classroom.

"I was just thinking how exceptional and wonderful you are, Gaunt."

Ominis stepped back clearing his throat and running his right hand through his soft blond hair, mussing his ever-groomed hairstyle just slightly. Then he shook his head as if he had just decreed that he had no intention of resisting the call of his red-haired siren, and he stepped forward again, pulling her tightly to him and kissing her with passion - the satchel lying forgotten on his desk.

"Little flatterer that you are, Smith." He whispered in her ear, amused and slightly aroused.

The Deputy Headmistress clapped her hands in reproach and shot Anne a scowl that darkened her usually sweet and welcoming hazel eyes.

Sebastian merely huffed and cleared his throat with embarrassment.

"Don't you ever get tired of clinging to each other? In fact, on second thought, don't answer my question. Especially you, mate." He mumbled as his cheeks turned redder than the Troll Slayer's hair.

"Hi, everyone! What do you say? Shall we all have lunch together today?" Chirped Anne Sallow as she approached them.

"Sure, Anne." Replied the Keeper, flushed lips curving upwards in a sincere smile as she took a step away from Ominis to regain some composure.

"Ah, sorry to disappoint you, sister. I'll skip lunch today."

"Huh? And why is that, brother?" Anne Sallow asked, tilting her head gracefully to the side.

Suddenly, her face lit up as if a thought had struck her, and her delicate hands clutched tightly at the strong arms of her twin.

"You're skipping lunch to attend Crossed Wands? Can I - can I come and watch you duel?"

"You certainly don't have to ask my permission, sister. Anyway, no - no club today. I was thinking of getting up to some other kind of mischief." Sebastian smiled to himself and scratched the back of his head, mussing his thick mane of brown hair. "The kind of mischief that entails humiliating a certain Prewett. Care to join me, red?" He then added addressing Anne Smith.

She arched her eyebrows with intrigue as a glimmer of curiosity mixed with delight lit up her features.

"I'm always eager to get up to a mischief. Especially if I can laugh behind Prewett's back."

Ominis sighed in annoyance and his blind blue eyes darted to the ceiling of the classroom without really seeing it.

"I won't even try to convince you to come and have lunch with us, I know you too well." He murmured, slinging the leather satchel over his shoulder and gently brushing Anne Smith's hand with his own. "You do remember that we have to come back here after lunch for the second part of the lecture, don't you, my love?"

"Professor Weasley just reminded us - I'm not an idiot!"

"One never knows with you… Usually when a professor is talking you think of something else. I'll meet you back here in the classroom if you don't make it to the Slytherin table in time to eat lunch, alright?" He gave her a loving kiss on the cheek causing her to blush brightly, then he offered his arm to Anne Sallow and tilted his head towards the spot where he had heard Sebastian speak. "Sow and wait or hunt and strike?"

At the blind serpent's words, both Slytherin girls squinted believing they had not heard correctly, but Sebastian replied without hesitation using the same code-language as his best friend.

"Sow and wait."

Ominis chuckled to himself and shook his head with amusement.

"That one's always amusing. I'd almost be tempted to join the expedition if it weren't for the fact that I'm starving." He began to guide Anne Sallow towards the exit of the classroom while holding his sentient wand pointed in front of him, then turned back to Sebastian as a serious expression furrowed his handsome countenance. "See to it that she doesn't get into trouble with the faculty. And in that case, know that I will be pissed off with you, Sebastian."

"Oh, Anne! Ominis is always so gallant and protective of you!"

"Gallant? You mean overly apprehensive!" Snorted the lovely ginger.

"O-overly apprehensive? Bollocks - those are merely our rules, my love, and you know them! Whoever involves their friends in their mischief takes responsibility in case there's trouble."

"Yes, rules, of course. Rules that - as it happens - become particularly dear to Lord Gaunt if his precious princess is involved." Sebastian mumbled half in jest, offering Anne Smith his arm.

Anne Sallow sighed, still insisting that Ominis' behaviour was indeed romantic as the two of them walked off towards the Great Hall. The Troll Slayer for her part remained silent and shook her head with an air that was partly annoyed and partly flattered by the ever thoughtful manner of the Heir of Slytherin in her regard.

"So you're taking me to... Sow and wait?" She then asked as they stepped out into the sunny Transfiguration Courtyard.

"Now we're just going to sow. The waiting will come by itself. It's usually quite short anyway."

"I see. Or rather no, I don't understand, but I suppose you will explain in due course. In the meantime, tell me where we're headed."

Being much taller than Anne, Sebastian's pace was a lot faster than hers. When he realised that she was almost trotting to keep up with the gait of his wide strides, he slowed down and smiled to himself, casting her a sidelong glance.

"You look shorter and shorter by the day, red."

"I am not short at all! It is you and Ominis that just keep getting taller! I mean, is unclear where you think you should go with your height. Perhaps you want to taste the leaves of the trees."

"Aha! Well, we'll let you know what they taste like - or you can always wait for them to fall to the ground, little one. To answer your question, we are headed for the Viaduct Entrance - final destination: the end of the Divination Corridor."

Anne scratched her head thoughtfully then absentmindedly fiddled with her long plait of ginger hair with the hand that wasn't busy holding Sebastian's arm.

"And what's interesting over there?"

"Not what but who!"

"...Are we going to meet someone?"

Sebastian did not answer, merely shrugged, casting another sidelong glance at her - deep dark eyes sparkling with goliardic trepidation.

He guided Anne to the point where the Viaduct Entrance met the end of the Divination Corridor leading to the Library Annex. There the Slytherin heartthrob made his way to a wall covered in animated paintings and brought his attention to a particular canvas where a knight from bygone days was portrayed.

Anne stood next to Sebastian and looked curiously at the plaque at the bottom of the painting.

"Sir Cadogan." She read aloud.

"In flesh, bone and shining armour!" The knight replied in a deep, confident voice as he brought his hands to his sides, clearing his throat loudly.

"Oh, good day, Sir."

Noticing the confusion on Anne's face and the slight embarrassment with which she had addressed the portrait who had unexpectedly spoken to her, Sebastian let out a laugh and turned his back on Sir Cadogan taking her aside for a moment. He lowered his head to speak in her ear and lingered longer than necessary to smell her perfume, hoping that the way his soft lips came close to the white skin of her neck would be discreet and nonchalant.

"This is the portrait of Sir Cadogan, knight of yore devoted to the Round Table as well as a proud member of House Gryffindor." He whispered, swallowing hard before moving his lips back to the level of her right ear after decrying that the way he was indulging his desire to kiss her neck was pathetic, far from nonchalant and not even a tad appropriate. "And like all Gryffindors he stands out for audacity, bravery, chivalry and oversized ego!"

"And what are we doing here with a pompous Gryffindor of old?"

''Sowing - it's obvious!"

Sebastian chuckled like an idiot with the satisfied smirk of someone dragging out a sensational revelation in the hope of arousing astonishment. Anne rolled her eyes and began to drum nervously on the marble floor with her right foot - the black leather heel of her uniform ankle boots produced an almost deafening echo in the wide, deserted corridor.

"And what shall we sow, pray tell?" She asked with mock trepidation as she decided to humour him.

"We sow the seeds of slander!"

"Slander?! Did we come here to spread rumours, Sebastian?"

The Keeper gave her companion a dirty look with such disdain that for a moment he took a step back, scratching the back of his neck with embarrassment. Then he shook his head, letting a few strands of unruly brown hair fall across his forehead as he returned to smiling and chuckling with amusement.

"By Merlin, that's some serious bollocks, red! You don't even sound like a Slytherin when you lash out with these reproaches! It must be the Keeper in you." He huffed as he moved back closer to her to give her a peck on the cheek. "My mistake for using too strong a word like slander! How do you like it better if I tell you we're about to have the time of our lives in the face of a few pricks?"

"Hmm, go on..."

"Ominis and I met Sir Cadogan during our first year at Hogwarts. In truth, we had deluded ourselves into thinking we were interesting in the eyes of Merlin, who is hanging higher up on the left - there, you see? We tried in vain to strike up a conversation with Merlin's portrait, who obviously ignored us as he ignores the myriad of students who constantly try to talk to him. However, the old bastard and I were persistent enough to draw the attention of his dear friend, Sir Cadogan - huge gossip and eternal blowhard never tired of talking about his noble deeds!"

Anne tilted her head thoughtfully to one side and turned just slightly towards the knight portrayed behind her. The piercing blue eyes of the old gentleman met her dark, curious ones for a moment, then she looked away and turned back to Sebastian, whispering softly.

"Huge gossip, you say? So you and Ominis enjoyed telling him anecdotes and waiting for him to trumpet them from painting to painting all over the castle?"

"I have always appreciated your quick wit, red. That's right: whether it was innocent jests or outright nastiness when we demanded vengeance for a wrong we suffered, Sir Cadogan has never let us down! He is easily outraged and will not hesitate to let the whole castle know how he feels if something catches his attention."

"Ah, ‘sow and wait’, I see. Say, what did Prewett do to make you resort to Sir Cadogan? Mind you, as far as I'm concerned, any excuse is a good one to concoct mischief against Prewett."

He wrinkled his nose in disgust and sighed deeply as if taking his time before replying, uncertain whether or not to confide in her as to why he had intended to ridicule Leander and why he had cared to involve her as well.

"Prewett is telling everyone that it was only a matter of time before someone unmasked the Troll Slayer and showed her for who she really is: a vain girl who boasts of abilities that are nothing more than the result of mere luck. He is magnifying your brother's performance, saying that he humiliated you properly last night at the club." He paused for a moment to observe her reaction; noticing the way her soft lips had distorted into an angry snarl as soon as her brother was mentioned, Sebastian wondered if he had done the right thing in telling her the truth. "Well, she'd hear the gossip sooner or later. Better to hear them from me and have a strategy for revenge than to pick up the evil whispers of the other students in the Great Hall." "He even went so far as to say that he suspects you always won against him in duels because you were under the influence of invigorating potions. Envious little prick! Ah, of course he couldn't wait to cast me in a bad light too, so he's spreading the rumour that I'm holding up your game and always letting you win just because - because - well, because I'm pathetically in love with you behind my best friend's back."

"Fucking prick! Infamous piece of shite!"

"I know, red. I know... But hey, what goes around comes around, right?"

Sebastian winked and turned towards Sir Cadogan. He took a step towards the portrait of the old knight and positioned himself in front of him, closing his hands into fists and resting them on his hips. Sir Cadogan looked at the tall, sturdy Slytherin boy who stood in front of his frame and took up a stance mirroring his own as if to hint that he was not at all intimidated.

"Halt, Sallow! Ought thou not to be in the Great Hall enjoying luncheon with the other students? Ah, surely thou hast not come here to consort with this fair maiden!" The knight raised his right hand and pointed the forefinger of his gauntlet at Sebastian's chest in reproach. "Watch it, lad! I shan't let thou taketh avail of a maiden's innocent naivety! The virtue of a young witch is most precious! A fine gentleman shalt behave as such in mine presence!"

"I would never dare consort with an innocent young lady, Sir!"

Anne laughed internally at Sebastian's mock indignation and struggled not to place her hand to her forehead as she approached the portrait.

"Sir Cadogan, allow me to introduce you to my sweet friend, Miss Anne Smith." Continued the Slytherin heartthrob. "You must have heard of her - of our resident Troll Slayer."

"Indeed, good Sir Nicholas speaks very highly of her! At last we meet, fair maiden! A fair maiden, yes, but also proud and brave, aye? A maiden who hath no need for a knight to wage her wars."

A sincere smile lit up Anne's face as her chest finally swelled with pride at those words. She began to fiddle with her long plait of ginger hair and blushed slightly as she enjoyed that small moment of glory.

"Nice to meet you, Sir Cadogan."

"Mine pleasure, Miss Smith. A great pleasure indeed! Oh, thy noble deed hast thither to mine ears - Hogwarts and all the Wizarding World doth be in thy debt. Oh, the courage that lies within this witch - the grit! I do wonder why thou hast not been sorted into Gryffindor, lass. Sir Nicholas claims that's where thou didst rightly belong, and I stand by that!"

"Oh, but the glory of Gryffindor House is not what it once was, Sir." Said Sebastian, flaunting mock contrition.

"Explain thyself, lad!"

"Lions are arrogant and spineless these days, Sir! Godric Gryffindor would turn in his grave! Leander Prewett in particular is disgracing your noble House!"

"Prewett? Pureblood family of most ancient ancestry. As many Ravenclaws as Gryffindors among their kin, aye."

"Yes, purebloods - that's right, Sir Cadogan. Young Leander Prewett believes - may Merlin forgive him! - in blood status! Alas, he labels Muggle-borns as mudbloods. Oh, the shame for a House as noble and sworn to defend the weak as that of Godric Gryffindor!"

"Indeed! Scoundrel! Thus tarnishing the name of Godric Gryffindor - for goodness sake!"

"And there's more, Sir Cadogan. He also tarnishes the name of Miss Smith - he talks behind the back of a sweet young lady!"

"How dare he!"

"Miss Smith refused his advances, and now he - out of spite - denigrates her duelling prowess!"

Sir Cadogan unsheathed his sword in a surge of fury - blind rage flashed in his cold blue eyes as he swung the weapon around in his frame.

"A man who bears a grudge against a woman for a rejection is no man at all! Such cowardice! Scorning the Troll Slayer out of spite and wounded pride! Scoundrel! Half-lion! Ah, but he shalt hear me - they shalt all hear me!"

The fair ginger was shaken by a tremor as an idea flashed through her mind: she spoke in a rush, her gaze fixed on Sir Cadogan still intent on flailing about as if he were practising slicing Leander.

"There's more, Sir! Mr Prewett is not the only one who believes in blood status, there is a plague of rotten ideals within the castle walls. Duncan Hobbhouse, the cowardly Ravenclaw, is among them and - and Samuel Smith, my brother!"

"Samuel Smith? Descendant of sweet Helga Hufflepuff?"

"The very one, Sir! Oh, the terrible things I could say about him and my entire family..."

Sir Cadogan shook his head with genuine sorrow and clenched his well-defined jaw as if he were about to face an invisible enemy.

"Where shalt we end up at this pace? Ah, the world is changing, my youths!" He growled in a hoarse voice before he laid his eyes on the Keeper and continued speaking in a softer tone. "She was quite voluptuous, her hair darker than yours, but that sly, intelligent smile... Ah! Thou art quite similar to her, lass! Nevertheless, I spy in thine eyes the same cleverness and resolve that I beheld in Merlin's. Slytherin befits thee after all, Troll Slayer."

Anne straightened her back, feeling flushed with another surge of pride as she watched the knight leap nimbly astride a fat, saddle-less pony grazing in the meadow painted in the background of his portrait.

"Scoundrels! Let it be known how vile art thee, wretched fools!" Shouted Sir Cadogan, spurring his steed.

With a prance, the pony leapt out of the frame while Sebastian brought his hands to his strong stomach, bending over in laughter.

"We have sown, red! Now all we have to do is wait. And who knows? Maybe your hated brother will come out of this as… downsized as Prewett!" He stood beside her and offered her his arm, winking mischievously. "That was clever of you, red. Sir Cadogan will take care of giving voice to the truth. Now let's see if we're still in time to eat something."

- Dearest Miss Smith,
I am summoning you to my study before the start of the afternoon Transfiguration class. I regret to take time out of your lunch break, but the Headmaster and I have agreed on the urgency of the matter we must discuss with you.
We are already waiting for you and trust that you will be able to join us within ten minutes of receiving this letter.
Cordially,
Professor Weasley –

Anne was standing frozen in the middle of the Viaduct Courtyard. At her side, Sebastian watched her worriedly as she hysterically twirled her long plait of ginger hair around in her fingers.

"That way you'll end up bald, red..." He muttered, arching his eyebrows as her right hand tugged at her plaited hair as if she was trying to pull it off her head.

The bright summer sun blazed down on the grey stones of the bridge and the song of the crickets was so loud and alienating that it created a wall of sound, making it even easier for the lovely ginger to isolate herself from the rest of the world as she reread Professor Weasley's letter clutched between the trembling fingers of her left hand.

She had been chatting amiably with Sebastian as they fantasised about the amount of food they were going to swallow in the Great Hall when an enchanted note meant for her had descended from the sky.

Professor Weasley had been rather cryptic in her message, but Anne just couldn't imagine a scenario where being summoned by the Deputy Headmistress and the Headmaster at the same time would bring anything good for a student.

Especially so in her particular case.

Because Anne Smith was famous for two reasons within the faculty, namely being disrespectful of the rules – not to say tending towards naughtiness - and being the Keeper of Hogwarts: either she was in for a bollocking - although Anne couldn't imagine what the reason was since the academic year had just started - or something truly grave had happened and the faculty found itself in the position of asking her for help.

"That's shite either way." Silently decreed the Slytherin girl as she finished reading the enchanted note for the third time. "Sebastian, I have been summoned to the Deputy Headmistress' study. Now. And Headmaster Black is with her." She summed up, turning to Sebastian with a serious countenance.

Astonishment and what appeared to be guilt flashed briefly in his deep dark eyes before they were replaced by pensive suspicion as a wary expression furrowed his face.

"I don't think this concerns Sir Cadogan. His ‘quest’ has only just begun. Then again, knowing Professor Weasley, in this particular case she would be more concerned to know that there are students who potentially take pride in discriminatory ideals. She'd make sure to have a chat with them rather than go after the person who started the rumour."

"Probably. Also because there are far too many rumours going around and the faculty doesn't take an interest in that sort of thing - in fact I bet some professors gossip as much as some students. Be that as it may, whatever this is about, the summons is addressed to me and me alone."

"I will come with you either way."

Anne sighed in defeat and continued speaking in a feeble voice as she lowered her gaze to the floor.

"Sebastian, don't worry. There's nothing you can do for me, and I can take care of myself. Whatever the reason they summoned me for, it obviously doesn't concern you, and you wouldn't even be allowed to participate in the conversation."

"I can always eavesdrop and - and-"

"Sebastian, take the opportunity to eat something while you can. If it makes you feel better, let me put it this way: if I take all the blame for a mischief we pulled together, you owe me a favour."

She took a step towards him and vigorously stroked his forearms, smiling in a way that was partly reassuring and partly mocking. Then she hugged him tightly in the middle of the stone bridge, continuing to smile and snicker. Inevitably, the attractive lips of the Slytherin heartthrob also stretched into a flirty smile before embarrassment was painted on his face.

"All right, red. You'll let me know later if I owe you a favour or not. Now get off my arse though - the scorching sun is enough to make me sweat like a pig underneath my robes without you hugging me too."

He gently pushed her away from him before turning his back on her and continuing alone towards the Great Hall.

The melodic, amused laughter of the Troll Slayer could be heard in the air before she turned in the opposite direction and began to run towards the Transfiguration Classroom. Her lean, toned legs, tempered by countless battles and strenuous training, guided her through the half-deserted corridors of the castle until she reached the familiar oak doorway, which she leaned against for a moment to compose herself before facing Professor Weasley and Headmaster Black. She firmly knocked on the dark wood after wiping the perspiration from her neck, and entered with a brisk step as soon as she was allowed to by the seemingly calm voice of the Deputy Headmistress.

"Here I stand before you, Professor Weasley. I came as soon as I received your letter - as requested." "And now to the point: is this a bollocking or a matter of life and death?"

"Ah, there you are, dearest Anne! Eh, much as I've grown awfully fond of you, I'm afraid you're in for a bit of a lecture today, eh lass?"

"A bollocking, then." Reasoned Anne, stopping in front of Professor Weasley's desk as the two professors stood observing her from the other side of the furniture.

"Miss Smith, dear girl, the Headmaster and I are rather disappointed actually."

"I am sorry to hear that. However, with all due respect, it is not entirely clear to me what I may have done to have failed you."

Headmaster Black brought a hand to his chin and thoughtfully smoothed his well-trimmed beard before curling his moustache, preening discreetly. Then he shook his head and closed his eyes with the expression of a lazy father who finds himself forced by his wife to scold a son without being used to doing so and without knowing where to start.

"This morning your brother came to my study. Samuel is complaining that you have not yet organised another tutoring session. The lad cares a lot about his education!"

"He what?!" "Treacherous bastard!" "Headmaster, sir, we met yesterday morning - it hasn't been weeks since -"

"Of course, however, you said goodbye without setting a date for the next encounter. And that's not looking good, Miss Smith." Professor Weasley interjected. "I do not doubt your good intentions, Miss Smith - it must have been an honest mistake. However, since Mr Smith has complained about it, it is our duty to sort things out with you."

Anne's heart sank as she read between the lines of that situation, sensing her brother's spiteful intentions.

An envious little shite trying to belittle her in the eyes of the faculty as well as those of their peers, that's what it was all about!

Samuel Smith could not accept the fact that his pathetic squib sister - the useless burden of House Smith - had turned out to be a capable witch admired by all. He was annoyed by this anomaly against nature: a squib could not suddenly burst with magic and be able to outclass far more experienced wizards and witches with their power! Or at least that was as far as the red-haired badger's bigoted, narrow mind could grasp. And so he looked for excuses to bully her and get her into trouble, indulging the unwarranted and inexcusable desire for revenge he felt towards the universe itself for that strange twist of fate.

Challenging her in a duel and doubting her abilities - however established - was one thing, Anne could always strike back or at least try to do so, but to go and clutch at the Headmaster's skirts trying to make her look bad? Playing the part of the innocent student worried about his education? Portray her as the careless, unreliable sister who doesn't take the tutoring entrusted to her seriously?

"Arsehole!" Anne thought, holding back tears as she felt in her chest the memory of the excruciating, unbearable pain caused by the Cruciatus Curse inflicted upon her by her father while her brother witnessed the act with cold indifference.

And yet, as much as she was certain that he enjoyed ridiculing her and that his ultimate goal was to humiliate her with his taunts and spite, there was another small suspicion that crawled into the Keeper's mind, one that saw Samuel eager to meet for tutoring because it was taking place in the company of Sallow's sister - her pretty friend.

Anne immediately put that thought aside; she was all too good at pretending that the things that made her suffer did not exist.

And until a thought or a suspicion is not voiced, it's as if it never existed, right?

Headmaster Black and Professor Weasley continued to press her for another good ten minutes, taking turns lecturing her on her responsibilities as the faculty-appointed tutor to assist Miss Sallow and Mr Smith in their re-entry to Hogwarts.

The fair ginger listened to the reprimand in silence, nodding blankly and responding monosyllabically whenever the professors remained silent to let her speak.

If the empathetic Deputy Headmistress was aware of the negative emotions veiling the expressive dark eyes of her student, she did not let on. She continued to speak, calm but authoritative, giving Anne a day to organise a proper, pre-established schedule for tutoring so that all the academic engagements of the students involved would be met.

The Slytherin girl continued to smile forcibly as her mind travelled miles away - images of dusty tomes overlaid with those of a marble statue staring coldly and cruelly at her, while in her heart weighed the overwhelming sense of inferiority that the duel with Marvolo, Samuel's taunts and even Prewett's slanders had stirred within her.

"What did Sir Cadogan call me? A maiden who needs no knight to fight her wars? Very well, time to fight. With heavy weaponry!" She thought darkly as she flashed one last mock smile at the professors intent on dismissing her.

She sat down at the three-seater desk where Ominis and Sebastian would join her shortly and cast a quick glance at Professor Weasley as she was about to distribute green apples to each pew in preparation for her next lesson. A cold, eerie calm had suddenly dawned on Anne, slowing the erratic beats of her heart. Her hands unfolded a pristine scroll in front of her and then set the inkwell down as if her brain was not guiding them.

She began jotting down a series of notes to help her work out the best strategy for finding her way back into the most dangerous secret chamber in the castle. She also drew some rudimentary sketches of the secret passage to try and figure out how to open it from the outside, then went on to draw up a dot list of all the topics she would like to discuss with her new, horrifying mentor. At the top of the list were combat forms that would allow her to better control Ancient Magic in the event of an ambush and/or a battle to be fought, given her imminent needs.

The Keepers could perhaps have taught her that too, but Anne wanted to deal with someone who - on a theoretical level – was willing to teach her even the most vile tricks that her extraordinary abilities would allow her to perform.

And then there were many other things on her list, depths of knowledge that the Keepers themselves had admitted to never having achieved compared to the Four.

Such as building a castle steeped in magic of all kinds or architecting, crafting and concealing sentient chambers such as the Room of Requirement, for instance. Not to mention that disturbing but extremely useful magic she had witnessed in the Chamber of Secrets - that sentient strand of memory capable of interacting with the users of a Pensive...

Anne was so engrossed in her reasoning that she jerked blatantly and guiltily when the lads finally sat down beside her.

The Transfiguration lesson was about to begin: Professor Weasley was preparing to explain the purpose of the green apples placed above each desk as the students hurried to set out their stationery to begin taking notes.

The Heir of Slytherin, always thoughtful and attentive to the needs of his future Lady, had stolen a chicken and ham sandwich from the Great Hall for her; he handed it to her, resting it discreetly in her lap, then he took advantage of Professor Weasley's distraction to gently grasp her chin and turn her head towards him, kissing her fiercely.

For a moment all thoughts were driven from her mind as Anne closed her eyes and opened her mouth for Ominis, indulging him in that stolen, uncharacteristically bold kiss.

"Forgive me, I couldn't resist. I can't stand being apart from you for more than five minutes, witty girl." He whispered in that velvety, loving voice of his.

Sebastian huffed and crossed his arms as he tried to ignore the lovebirds: it was in that very moment, while the Troll Slayer was distracted, that his eyes fell on her notes.

"Is that...? No. That's not possible! Anne wants - she wants to go back there...?"

Sebastian Sallow's blood froze in his veins.

"What's going on? " Anne Sallow asked, looking around the room in confusion. "Did you by any chance have something to do with it? It's not funny to spread rumours! I would know something about it..." She then added in an icy tone of voice, turning to her twin.

"Oh, no! Anne, I assure you that Sebastian and I only made sure that the truth - and nothing but the truth! - came out!"

"From what Sebastian told me, in my opinion they were far too fair, considering the outright falsehoods Prewett was spewing around." Ominis muttered with the air of someone who is barely keeping his anger in check.

The Great Hall was no more crowded than usual, but it seemed ten times more chaotic and - without apparently eliciting any legitimate suspicions - the only table where students were dining quietly was Slytherin's.

Thunderous laughter alternating with slanderous chants directed at Puffskein Dunkein was rising from the Ravenclaw table.

"Oi! Coward! Say, do Muggle-borns disgust you or scare you?"

"Classist and racist as well as coward! You're filth, Hobhouse!"

Duncan, coward as he was, didn't even try to react to the insults: he just sat red-faced at the Ravenclaw table without even seeming able to get up and leave, like one of those animals in the woods that play dead in the face of danger.

To the Troll Slayer's utter chagrin, Zenobia was one of the few people at their table who were not laughing at Duncan; in fact, she was the only one sitting next to him and it seemed she was intent on protecting him. Anne Smith didn't know or care about the blood status of the little Gobstones-loving child; she couldn't tell if Zenobia shared Duncan's views of things or if they had simply befriended each other because they belonged to the same House and were both being picked on and bullied, but whatever the reason, the Keeper decreed that she would not intervene in her defence this time and she sadly shook her head, shifting her attention to the Gryffindor table.

A full-blown brawl was about to explode there: some didn't trust the rumours - surely started by a slimy snake - and some shouted in outrage that the honour of the old lion, Sir Cadogan, was not to be questioned. Leander was exchanging venomous insults with Garreth, who seemed about to pounce on him; Natty and Lucan were holding back the nephew of the Deputy Headmistress as they tried to avoid a fight.

Meanwhile, at the Hufflepuff table reigned a silence that was somewhat unnatural and far from peaceful.

Everyone seemed intent on watching Samuel Smith as he ate his dinner - a hopeful look on their faces as if they were praying that their idol would not be the horrible person the rumours portrayed him to be. He did not seem worried at all, and went on eating, occasionally flashing sincere smiles at his fellow housemates as if nothing was wrong.

"Hmm, it looks like your brother isn't worried at all, red. Could he possibly be that stupid?" Sebastian asked absently as he strained to pay attention to the Hufflepuff table despite it being on the other side of the dining room. "Well, from what little you've told me about him, one can tell he's that stupid, actually." He added, hinting at a small smile.

"What things! I'd - I'd like to know as well, Anne. As in you - you can confide in me!"

"Oh, I - I wouldn't want to bore you, you know? They're not so - so compelling, the stories about my brother." Anne Smith spluttered, torn between the desire to reveal every sordid detail related to her hated brother to the young lady seated to her right, and the instinct to spare both her friend and herself the pain of reliving certain ugly memories.

Always able to sense her moods, Ominis innocently placed his right hand on her thigh and gave her a gentle pat. The lovely ginger turned to her left with a smile and scooted down on the bench to be even closer to him. She took a bite of her ham and chicken sandwich, the same one that the Heir of Slytherin had given her during class but which she hadn't gotten a chance to eat without Professor Weasley noticing; she was licking her fingers after swallowing the last mouthful when finally the fierce argument that had been raging at the Gryffindor table exploded into a full blown brawl.

Garreth had managed to wriggle out of Natty and Lucan's grasp by thrusting forward to headbutt Leander to the cry of "Half-Lion!". After a moment's daze, said half-lion reacted with two quick punches to his opponent, the first one opening a gash in his left eyebrow and the second one landing hard in his chest.

Professor Waesley, who had already been observing the turmoil in the Great Hall with concern for several minutes, descended from the High Table with agility unthinkable for a witch of her age, and she pointed her wand at the Gryffindor lads, immobilising them instantly. The angry shrieks of the Deputy Headmistress caused the richly decorated glass windows of the dining room to vibrate as she assigned a detention to the two quarrelsome lions. Then, she addressed words of reproach to all the students, urging them to pull themselves together and end supper civilly.

As she escorted Leander and her own nephew out of the Great Hall, Phineas Nigellus Black walked phlegmatically towards his gilded lectern; Anne Smith was standing too far away to say for sure, but she would have bet good galleons that his black moustache was hiding his disgusted, embarrassed grimace.

"Attention, students! Henceforth it will be strictly forbidden to speak of blood status and make accusations of any kind - so much against the mudb- Emh! So much against Muggle-borns as against purebloods – too often unjustly accused of being classist!"

"Headmaster, sir, if I may..." Samuel stood up, all smiles and self-assurance - seemingly not at all embarrassed to be standing while the rest of the Great Hall sat silently gazing at him. "I think there have been some terrible misunderstandings. I can't speak for Mr Hobhouse or Mr Prewett - I don't know them well enough - but as for me? I apologise if I have given the wrong impression to anyone. However, I urge my fellow schoolmates to have more discernment. No one is to blame for their birth, not even purebloods like me or my sister, am I right?" He added, taking off his Hufflepuff robes and pulling his shirt sleeves up to his elbow like a politician about to hold a rally.

And however hollow, his words were so diplomatic and his body language so relaxed that everyone suddenly seemed inclined to agree with him.

Samuel was handsome, easy-going, a true idol - and no one is inclined to see the rottenness in an idol.

The girls from each House began to smile and nod, as did many of the boys; when Headmaster Black clapped enthusiastically, adding to the dose of empty, diplomatic words, tempers suddenly calmed down and dinner went on quietly.

Anne Smith buried her anger and anxiety deep within her with a tremendous effort. Equally tremendous was the effort she made to ignore the vaguely relieved expression on the face of the girl to her right.

"He shouldn't have brought you up." Ominis whispered through gritted teeth as he clenched his fists under the table. "He did it on purpose, the bugger. As if he wanted to imply that you were the one who -"

''Mate, how about we sneak out of the castle and defy the Prefects tonight?" Sebastian interjected in order to relieve the tension.

He was sitting in front of the fair ginger and anxiously shifted his gaze from her to his best friend with obvious sorrow, frustrated at the elegant way Samuel Smith had gotten out of his predicament but even more so at the fact that it was unsettling the most important people in his life.

"So, what do you say? After all, you owe me at least a couple of Butterbeers since you went to Hogsmeade without me yesterday." He insisted, determined to chase away the nasty thoughts with a tempting offer.

"Oh, what a great idea, brother! It's always fun sneaking to Hogsmeade at night in spite of the Prefects! Let's all go and have a pint at the Three Broomsticks together!"

At those words Ominis seemed to relax and lighten up. He slung an arm around the shoulders of his sweetheart and ran a hand through his soft blond hair, smiling happily.

"Why not? The general mood around here has already tired me out this evening. A little bit of a leisurely escapade can only do us good."

"I'm staying at the castle! I have - I have a slight migraine. I'll take a tonic for my nerves and go straight to bed."

And Sebastian Sallow saw it - that flash that for an instant lit up the inky-black irises of his darling Anne Smith.

Perhaps he would not have suspected anything if he had not accidentally seen her notes.

But he had in fact seen them.

And he was too clever a lad not to realise that she was now reassuring Ominis and gently caressing his face whilst breaking into a cold sweat at the idea of taking advantage of a moment's solitude to embark on a venture that was nothing short of reckless, foolish even.

Anne Smith was distraught over the return of her hated brother, frightened by the ever-looming threat posed by Marvolo Gaunt, whom she had just recently met again. Sebastian knew that look in her eyes, that of the desperate Keeper who feels compelled to prove something as much to herself as to others.

And he also knew all too well where fear can lead to.

Now Ominis and his sister were standing up smiling - sorry at the idea that the lovely ginger was not in the mood for company but willing to accept her refusal.

"Have a nice evening! Have a little drink for me too!" The Troll Slayer said, waving nervously with her hand as she remained seated on the wooden bench.

Sebastian looked at her, saw her breathing heavily as she struggled not to look troubled. Then he glanced at Ominis and his twin sister who were waving in turn, heading for the exit of the Great Hall where they would discreetly split from the other students to sneak away from the castle.

He turned to look at Anne Smith one last time.

There was still time - he could stop Ominis in his tracks, make up an excuse to stay at Hogwarts or even expose her intentions at the cost of quarrelling with her.

But could he really do that?

Was he willing to humiliate her like that? To expose her in front of Ominis, making it seem as if she was up to something when in truth he knew nothing of her intentions and was only relying on his instincts?

Could he really have been the one responsible for a fight between them?

…Would they even fight?

Sebastian couldn’t tell for sure. But one thing he knew: it wasn’t easy to enrage Ominis, but when he did get angry, his wrath was scorching.

Certainly the Heir of Slytherin was always rather soft on Anne Smith.

Because he loved her. Because he trusted her.

Sebastian couldn't risk undermining that trust unless he knew more about the situation.

Because he too, in his own way, was in love with her and didn't want to see her hurt.

"See you later, red. Or rather - sleep well? I hope the tonic helps you feel better." He heard himself say - distant words, as if they were not his own.

A moment later he was hurrying to catch up with his sister and best friend.

Dimly lit and silent: the Slytherin dungeon seemed to have been deliberately designed for more or less innocent mischief.

Anne was standing in front of the cold stone wall that rose opposite from the one where the entrance to her common room was concealed. Right hand resting on her chin, a frown creasing her features while she continued to torment her soft lips with her teeth as she had done in her sleep the night before.

"Staring into the void, Smith? What reason could the ‘Slytherin Queen’ possibly have for standing all alone in front of a wall?"

Violet's monotone voice reached her ears, bored and resentful as usual. The Troll Slayer turned to glare at the other young lady just in time to see her disappear beyond the coils of the silver Basilisk.

As usual, a disembodied hiss echoed in her head.

"You may pass, pythoness."

Anne's face suddenly lit up as if she had just had a brilliant intuition.

Ever since she had learned to speak Parseltongue, she had begun to notice the whispers that now and again could be heard inside the Slytherin dungeon until she quickly became indifferent to them; she no longer even noticed the hisses that greeted her housemates whenever they entered or left the common room.

"And yet, that is precisely the answer." She thought as she turned back to the wall. "Revelio." She whispered, pointing the ebony spiral against the cold stone.

The outline of a richly decorated door took shape on the wall, barely visible in the semi-darkness of the dungeon.

"May I pass?" She asked in a trembling hiss.

There was no answer, but the secret passage opened and Anne was quick to step through to the other side. The door shut with a dull thud, and her nostrils were suddenly flooded with the smell of dust and dampness that permeated that closed, windowless chamber.

"Strange that I didn't notice it the first time I was here. But then again, I had plenty other things going on in my mind. Like surviving the horrors of the torture chamber." A shiver ran down her spine at the memory of Sebastian's wand pointed against her chest in that moment of utter, frenzied panic. "Luckily I've already earned my way into this cursed place without having to retrace those damned corridors."

Anne stepped towards the stairs to her left that led to the lower floor of Slytherin's Scriptorium: the moment she moved, an impious, cruel voice began to whisper in the darkness as if it had just awoken from a long slumber.

"The virgin? That virgin is no more."

The disembodied voice belonged - as Anne had already conjectured - to Salazar Slytherin himself, and from the lustful way the ancient swine spoke of her swollen lips and of the appealing curve of her breasts, it was clear that he did not think he was being understood by her.

"So not only is this - this entity sentient, it can also remember the past." Thought the Keeper, trying hard not to tremble with fear and disgust and instead concentrate on her objectives. "A most extraordinary curse. I simply have to learn it - might come in handy if I ever have to train other Keepers after my demise."

With trembling steps she descended the stairs and went to stand in front of the desk towered by the imposing marble statue depicting the half-bust of Salazar Slytherin. She looked into those cold, empty eyes and almost felt like vomiting whilst focusing back on the hisses that came from the darkness.

"How naïve must this prey be to willingly return to mine coils? Mayhap she longs to becometh mine victim yet again. Mayhap pain is what she seeks."

Disgust mixed with fear twisted within the guts of the Keeper as she struggled to remain impassive before the statue.

"Who knows what kind of lewdness Ominis was forced to listen to the first time we were here!" She faltered for a moment, and when she sensed that Salazar was about to hiss more foul words dripping with lust, she hastened to speak first. "I am not naïve, nor am I your prey. And pain is not what I seek."

A deathly silence fell in the Scriptorium.

Anne could not help but bring her hands to her long plait of ginger hair to twirl it nervously around in her fingers even though she was well aware that such a gesture would make her appear insecure and weak.

"Thou dost speak Parseltongue." It was not a question, it was a plain statement - almost defiant.

"Yes." The Slytherin girl replied just as defiantly.

"Yet, though thine uniform may deceive, I sense that thou art not of my lineage." A strange sound of appreciation echoed in the Scriptorium, as if some kind of reptile was letting out a satisfied humming. "Thy blood is most pure, nevertheless. Quite melodious the way it flows in thy veins."

"Indulge him, you must trick him if you want him to teach you! Force yourself to give him what he wants, Anne!" "My blood is that of Helga Hufflepuff. Though my uniform may be deceiving." She jested in the hope that Salazar would lower his guard.

Resolve and insolence were reflected in equal measure in Anne's expressive dark eyes as she gazed into the cold marble orbs of the statue before her, yet her voice was trembling, and she prayed with all her heart that her uncertainty would not be sensed by the impious disembodied entity that haunted that cursed place.

There was a strangled cry of victorious exaltation that chilled the blood in her veins, then silence again. When Salazar spoke, a hint of lust tinged his hissing words anew.

"And pray tell, how is it possible for thee to speak as one of us?"

"I have been taught."

"That much is obvious - thy speech is peculiar and thy vocabulary is limited. Nevertheless, I pay thee homage. Few speak Parseltongue outside of mine bloodline. And therefore, am I correct in assuming a descendant of mine taught it to thee?"

"Yes."

A burst of impatience seemed to electrify the air as the disembodied entity lurking in the chamber conveyed to the lovely ginger the annoyance he felt at being kept on tenterhooks.

Anne swallowed and felt her heart beating wildly in her chest, but she did not let her fear show, remaining stubbornly silent.

"Parseltongue grants power: it grants access to mine possessions, to mine knowledge! Speak! Why hast thou been taught?"

"Because my betrothed wished for me to learn."

Wrath immediately dissipated in the air and was replaced by trepidatious anticipation.

"The blind serpent. Wilt thou join with mine Heir?"

"I am his."

A maniacal, satisfied laughter echoed in the air.

" 'Tis no wonder, then, that thou art no longer a virgin."

Anne jerked in shame and her soft lips parted in astonishment, but she remained silent.

"Indulge him, Anne. This scum can't read your mind, not while he's dead anyway. He just has to believe he's dealing with a Dark Witch - with a - a bitch! You'll see, he'll teach you everything he knows about Ancient Magic." She repeated to herself to take heart.

"Mine Heir is indeed worthy. He hath conquered a flawless mate. Thou shalt be a fine Lady for him - thy children shalt strengthen mine lineage as never before."

At those words a small gasp made its way up Anne's throat without her being able to suppress it.

She feigned a smile at the marble half-bust without finding the strength to reply with words.

"How much death hath mine Heir inflicted thus far?" Salazar asked with sudden bloodlust, as cruel and cold as his statue.

"D-death, sir?"

"Mudbloods - how many die a day? He opened the Chamber, yes?"

Once again Anne could not find the words to lie and answer the question. She slipped a trembling hand into the pocket of her Slytherin robes and merely pulled out the ebony spiral, keeping it in plain view.

Part irked and part curious astonishment permeated the dusty air of the Scriptorium.

"Why isn't the Heir the one carrying mine wand? If thou canst wield it there must be a reason, but I wonder..."

"Ancient Magic runs through my veins. But not in those of my betrothed."

A long silence fell in which Salazar seemed intent on thinking.

"Thou hast told me that pain is not what thou seek, child. Pray tell, what is it thou seek?"

"Knowledge."

"Oh, you know Anne: when she puts her mind to something, there's no stopping her." Ominis smiled as he traced the rim of his glass with his long fingers, then he chuckled and grabbed the Firewhisky to take a sip as he slouched against the back of his chair. "She's really intent on asking Professor Ronen to be accepted into the choir, she's not just saying that!"

Sebastian nodded distractedly and took a sip of Firewhisky in turn.

It had been about an hour since they had arrived at the Three Broomsticks, and they had promised Sirona that they would not stay out late. She had vehemently protested when she had seen the young Slytherin students walk through the door; she had shaken her head with such force that she had loosened the messy bun she was wont to gather her long brown hair into while asserting resolutely that she absolutely did not want to get in trouble for indulging Hogwarts students intent on breaking curfew. Then Sebastian had stepped in with his handsome, roguish smile and sibylline words that could convince anyone that he was in the right, no matter the argument. He had cooed at Sirona, pleading with the bright eyes of a young, bored student in need of a break from routine, and finally she had burst out laughing and allowed them to stay for an hour and a half before sneaking off to their dormitory without getting into trouble.

Although Sebastian had taken all the credit, Ominis suspected Sirona had caved in more because she was hoping to get a chance to talk to him and get an update on Marvolo Gaunt's fate, given the unfortunate events of the day before. Now she was intent on talking to Anne Sallow, who had gone to sit on a stool at the pub counter to confide in the witch who was the friend and confidante of more than half the students at Hogwarts.

Sebastian flicked his gaze briefly over to his sister to find her intent on talking musingly with flushed cheeks and a sad expression painted on her face as her sweet dark eyes continued to dart in the direction of the Heir of Slytherin like a charm drawn by the force of a magnetic field.

"If only there was a bloke to distract her from the unrequited feelings she has for Ominis. Certainly it wouldn't please me if my sister was being courted by someone. It wouldn't please me at all, come to think of it."

Ominis' voice brought Sebastian back to the present moment, causing him to quickly look away from the pub counter.

"Did she tell you I bought her a pianoforte yesterday? A grand piano actually. I've been thinking about it for a long time." He murmured in a dreamy voice without stopping smiling as a slight blush coloured his cheeks - perhaps brought on by the second glass of Firewhisky more than embarrassment. "She plays quite well, you know? She plays beautifully in truth be told."

Sebastian studied Ominis thoughtfully: he was smiling, as he often did - thin lips curved upwards, giving him an air that was as playful as it was intelligent, sophisticated. The Slytherin heartthrob had always felt a strong surge of pride whenever he managed to make his best friend smile like that - even stronger when he managed to make him laugh. He had always admired Ominis' resilience, his ability to jest, tease and appreciate black humour despite all the horrible things he had witnessed as a child and despite all the abuse that had scarred him.

Ominis was withdrawn and grumpy for sure, but he was at the same time a good sport, a playful tease always ready to laugh and banter, perhaps precisely because life had already taken enough from him to waste any more time letting dark thoughts fester in his soul.

Then, one day, Anne Smith came into their lives. And Ominis' playful, intelligent smile, while remaining the same, was forever changed.

Whenever the Heir of Slytherin thought of his betrothed, the dimples on the sides of his mouth became as pronounced as ever. His smile was the same indeed, but now it belonged to someone - it belonged to her.

Sebastian had witnessed the change little by little; he had felt anger and jealousy at first, then sadness and resignation, and finally he was able to look at that smile feeling love and acceptance anew.

And as the harsh, dusty taste of Firewhisky burned his throat, giving him courage, he found the strength to face that dreadful, horrible thought that had been weighing on his heart since the beginning of the evening.

He owed it to Ominis as much as he owed it to Anne Smith.

After all, Sebastian had been worried about not wreaking havoc between the two of them but perhaps that wasn't the most important thing to worry about: if it was true that she was intent on returning to Slytherin's Scriptorium she might end up in trouble, and serious trouble at that. If Sebastian's carelessness in failing to speak up in the Great Hall had cost Anne her very life? If she'd been trapped in the torture chamber again? What if she was in danger at that very instant while they were happily mucking about at the pub?

Sebastian felt the strong muscles in his legs give way and was grateful to be sitting up, aware that it was not the liquor that had suddenly weakened him but anxiety. He had to talk about his doubts and suspicions with Ominis, not so much and not just to be honest to a friend, but so that he could step in and avert far greater dangers than a fight.

"Listen, mate. About your lovely ginger who will stop at nothing and no one when she puts her mind to something..." He mumbled without really knowing where to start.

"She's Slytherin to the core, isn't she? I thought so from the first day I met her."

"Yes. Slytherin to the core, indeed. Ominis, mate, I'm afraid she's come up with an idea that to call ambitious and rash is an understatement."

Ominis, always sensitive and attentive, immediately sensed the fear and doubt veiling Sebastian's words. He slowly ran his right hand through his soft blond hair, almost as if he wanted to make sure it was still well groomed while he took his time answering.

"What do you mean, mate?" He finally asked.

"I happened to cast a glance at her notes today. She had drawn some sketches of Slytherin's Scriptorium with jottings about how to access it. Did she happen to discuss this with you? Maybe I'm getting alarmed for nothing."

"No. We definitely haven't discussed anything of the sort."

Sebastian swallowed hard. The expression on Ominis' face had suddenly become deadly serious as he sat more composed in his chair, stiff as a tree trunk. His blind blue eyes had lost any glimmer of light-heartedness and Sebastian had to take another sip of liquid courage before continuing.

"I think she didn't join us this evening to go back there alone. I don't know anything about this, mate - I mean, maybe these are just doubts and worries that I'm having, but I can't get that thought out of my head." He muttered, setting the glass down on the table while his calloused hands began to shake as if he had just fallen into a pile of icy snow without wearing any clothes.

"I'd say your doubts and worries are more than legitimate, Sebastian."

"More than legitimate? ...Is that all you have to say?"

Now Ominis' lips were pursed and inexpressive - a line so thin and taut that it appeared hostile to the point of freezing the blood in Sebastian's veins.

"I don't have much to say. I'm too disappointed and upset to elaborate my thoughts any better."

"Ominis, she is distraught! Her brother's presence at the castle has completely unsettled her, not to mention what happened yesterday with your brother! She - she is frightened, Ominis. She feels helpless, she feels threatened! And fear can sometimes lead to fuck-ups - I bloody well know that, I -"

"I bloody well know that too, Sebastian! I am perfectly capable of understanding the situation, and I happen to know Anne quite well!"

Sebastian loosened the knot on his tie and popped a few buttons off his shirt, exposing his strong chest on which a bit of dark hair had recently begun to grow.

"Ominis, please... Don't be cross with her -"

"I am definitely wildly cross with her, Sebastian!" Ominis snarled, being careful not to raise his voice too loudly.

"She means no harm! I know it - I just know it! She's not a weakling like me - I didn't tell you about her notes on the Scriptorium because I'm afraid she's about to lose her wits, what I fear is that she'll run into danger!"

Sebastian's voice was broken with emotion, and sounded desperate and shrill to the blind serpent's ears. Very slowly, Ominis leaned over the table, resting his elbows on it with apparent nonchalance.

"Sebastian, I am not upset because I think Anne has evil intentions or is about to lose her wits." He said, switching back to a gentle, calm tone of voice as he hinted a sad smile. "I'm cross because whatever is going on in her head, she should have spoken plainly to me about it."

Sebastian carefully observed the body language of his friend as he leaned over the table in turn, gently resting his hands on the sticky wooden surface: Ominis was now trying to contain his anger and disappointment, straining to smile. The Slytherin heartthrob ventured a playful slap on his right forearm, and his friend returned the gesture without hesitation, patting him back with more vigour.

"She should have confided in me because - as you yourself said - that cursed place is fucking dangerous." Continued the Heir of Slytherin, tilting his head to the side as concern replaced anger, both in the tone of his voice and in his expression. "There lurks a foul entity, and as cunning and clever as Anne is, she should have made me aware of her intentions and sought my help instead of doing her own thing." Silence fell for a moment, then Ominis straightened his back and seethed once again before continuing to speak through clenched teeth. "And yes, I am greatly pissed off. Very disappointed. Severely fucking disappointed."

Sebastian swallowed anew and a veil of tears formed in his deep dark eyes.

"Maybe she was ashamed to appear weak in your eyes. Maybe she was just afraid of upsetting you, given your contempt for certain practices - especially the ones connected to the hated patriarch of your lineage." He murmured, projecting the emotions he himself had felt in the past onto Anne. "What are you planning to do with her, mate?" He then asked in a low voice, like a trembling child listening to their parents arguing.

Ominis, unexpectedly, laughed and gave Sebastian's forearm another pat.

"Mate, I'm in love with Anne. I'm in love with her, you know? Anger doesn't erase love. In fact, making mistakes and arguing sometimes is actually needed to strengthen a couple - it's needed to grow together as a pair."

"...You are wise, mate."

"No, it's you who has the emotional range of a glass marble, mate."

They both laughed. Sebastian went back to lean against the back of his chair and Ominis slowly stood up.

"Shall we go find her, then?" The Slytherin heartthrob asked with ill-concealed anxiety.

"I will go alone. And I will do so at once. I'll leave you the money here on the table to pay Sirona when you and Anne decide to return to the castle."

"You don't want me to go with you! What if there's trouble ahead? You might need help, we both know what's down there."

"Sebastian, I wouldn't willingly return to the bloody Scriptorium, but I'm not afraid of doing so." Ominis sighed deeply, as if preparing to face the labours of Hercules. "Besides, I wish to find Anne alone. No slight to your company of course."

Again a playful smile brightened the face of the Heir of Slytherin, but Sebastian was still restless: his mind did nothing but think of the sweet ginger.

"Sebastian? Well, I appreciate you telling me all this, mate."

A second time that evening, Ominis' voice called Sebastian back to the present moment. He watched him turn towards the pub entrance and pull out the chestnut stalk from his Slytherin robes.

"Don't be too hard on her!" He exclaimed in a shrill voice, unable to suppress the stupid, almost childish desire to protect Anne Smith - even when it came to meddling in matters concerning her and her future husband.

Ominis smiled yet again and turned his head towards Sebastian, leaning it slightly to the side.

"I don't need to be hard on her, Sebastian. She, contrary to you, actually listens to me."

"Ah. Fair enough."

As soon as Ominis set foot into the dark passage leading to the Scriptorium, a shiver ran down his spine. It was as if he could feel the weight of Salazar Slytherin's ghostly presence on his skin. The cold stone walls around him were damp and covered in cobwebs; touching them caused him to retch in disgust as he stepped into the darkness, brushing the wall to his left with his fingers to get his bearings in that maze of horrors. Cautious but determined, he walked slowly along the corridors strewn with traps set up to defend the Scriptorium.

Apart from the braziers connected to the door hidden in the depths of the Slytherin dungeon, none of the devices concealed in that nightmarish snare were working - just as Ominis had imagined and hoped.

Letting his faithful sentient wand guide him, he passed through the heavy gates leading to the Scriptorium, silent and unnoticed as if he too were a spectre.

"Why can't I hear his sinister, cruel voice? The first time I was in this hellish place, the serpentine words of my despicable ancestor were constantly echoing in my head. Now I can feel his presence but all is silent." He asked himself as, tense and guarded, he crossed the threshold of the main room of the torture chamber - the one cursed in order to exact a toll of agony to allow only worthy heirs to access the Scriptorium. "Could it be that Anne is not here?"

That question was immediately answered by the chestnut stalk, which vibrated with relief mixed with longing as it pointed straight ahead at the very spot where the hideous door with the animated bas-relief of wizards and witches intent on suffering the torment inflicted by the Cruciatus Curse stood. Ominis shook his head with such impatience that he slightly dishevelled his hairstyle, and while an unruly lock of blond hair fell across his forehead, he tried to ignore the emotions his wand wanted to share with him.

"She's in for a good scolding, all right! It is useless for you to make me feel how happy you are to know that she is on the other side of this door." He whispered through clenched teeth, speaking to the chestnut stalk.

When he reached the nightmarish door, Ominis instinctively stretched out his right hand towards the passage and tapped on the hideous bas-relief with the tip of his wand. As if remembering that the young blind serpent had already gained access to the Scriptorium, the door opened with an almost imperceptible hiss and then remained slightly ajar.

The Heir of Slytherin stood in the shadows, intent on spying on his rebellious betrothed to see what she was doing before revealing himself to her. He silently positioned himself in front of the chink that had opened in the wall - senses alert and chestnut stalk pointed ahead.

"That's why I couldn't hear Salazar's voice in the torture chambers! His attention is wholly focused here, on my Anne." Ominis thought with a hint of apprehension and possessiveness as he listened.

"Well, I've happened to turn a few wolves into sheep. I once turned a Dark Witch into a hen." Anne hissed, turning to the darkness.

She was thoughtfully tickling her chin with the quill she was taking notes with as she rocked in the chair in front of the Scriptorium desk. She hadn't noticed Ominis' presence behind her, nor the fact that the heavy cursed door had opened.

He closed his eyes and curved his lips into a small smile as soon as her melodious voice reached his ears. Anne could make even an ominous, harsh language like Parseltongue sweet with that peculiar accent of hers that seemed to completely change its metric.

"Damn, mate! At least try to be consistent and stay mad at her for five minutes!" The expression on Ominis' face turned glum again, and a flicker of anger flashed in his blind blue eyes as Salazar's evil, disembodied voice echoed in the dusty air.

"However, if I understand correctly, thou hast not performed the technique knowingly."

''No, I have always performed Ancient Magic relaying on my instincts. I am able to enhance my spells and do things that other wizards or witches cannot normally do. But I have no control over what I do - it is pure instinct indeed."

There was a brief pause, her breathing was rapid and betrayed the anxiety behind the apparent calm she was trying to demonstrate as she continued to write notes on old rolls of yellowed parchment.

"Thine mastery of Ancient Magic shalt flourish - I can teach thee many things, if thou wishes. And bear in mind what we discussed earlier: a masterful duellist doesn't cast offensive spells left and right without a thought! A proficient duellist relies first and foremost on their wits, adapting sophisticated techniques such as Transfiguration to battle. Evocative Transfiguration in particular goes well with a multitude of practices considered ‘Dark’ by most. The wand thou carry has tremendously strong willpower and is unmatched when it comes to Transfiguration and Dark Arts alike. " There was a pause in which the disembodied entity suspended in the ether appeared to reflect before hissing in a voice seemingly torn between admiration and resentment. "I still wonder that it bent so meekly to thine will, daughter of Helga."

"What can I say? My willpower is also tremendously strong - so claims my betrothed, at least." Anne jested, hinting at a giggle as she went back to tickling her chin with the quill.

At those words, Ominis' thin lips stretched into a smile again, then he shook his head once more, scolding himself for being so soft on her.

He remained silent for about ten minutes, making a real effort to keep his concentration and repeat in his head the reproachful speech he intended to make to Anne. Then, as his traitorous wand continued to pulse lovingly against the palm of his hand, he calmly exhaled and entered the Scriptorium with a firm step.

Anne did not notice anything at first because the rich ornamental carpet that covered the floor muffled the sound of her betrothed's footsteps. What she perceived instead was a sudden, violent intrusion into her mind. She felt a silent, empty consciousness penetrate hers and control her every thought without revealing anything of its own self. It was almost painful, as if someone had violently grabbed the nape of her neck and shook her head in every direction, sinking their fingers into the soft skin of her neck. With a startled cry, Anne turned around in a panic, finding herself facing Ominis.

He felt the escalation of her emotions, experiencing them as if they were his own and immediately finding comfort in them.

At first there was terror, the blackest, most instinctive fear gripping Anne's insides without generating a single coherent thought in her head as she realised she had been taken by surprise and was being subjected to a mental assault. Then the terror was instantly swept away by the most sincere joy.

Ominis' strong hands trembled imperceptibly at the effort he made not to smile whilst keeping a serious expression etched on his face before that overwhelming sensation of pure happiness felt by his lovely ginger as soon as she had laid her eyes on him. And an instant later he had to redouble his efforts to stay focused on his anger, because her emotions changed once again, swelling his chest at the same time with pride, tenderness and infinite relief.

Anne's joy became tinged with trepidation and enthusiasm, and he sensed her desire to show him all the things she had learned that evening as if she was not in the least bit anxious to share with him her ideas, her reasoning and her intentions to directly exploit Salazar Slytherin's knowledge.

Ominis knew Anne intimately, he knew her innocence and her pure heart - manifested plainly by her Patronus. He knew her too well to have really doubted the good faith of her intentions; in his heart he knew that he had no reason to believe that she had betrayed his trust, but having the certainty that she did not actually have the real intention of doing something suspicious behind his back was nevertheless a source of immense relief.

Feeling her sincere joy and trepidatious excitement at the idea of sharing that moment with him was all the Heir of Slytherin needed to calm down. However, one thing remained to be clarified - one important thing for which Ominis wanted to make an effort to remain angry: Anne had chosen to act - and rather recklessly at that - without even confronting him first on a subject that concerned him very closely.

And inevitably he felt her happiness and excitement fade as she remembered that she had returned to the Scriptorium without first asking his permission. However, inside her there was no anger or anxiety typical of someone who is hiding something, only the mortification and resignation of someone who knows they are in a position to owe somebody an explanation, like a child caught by their parents eating a spoonful of sugar straight from the larder jar.

"Ominis! How did you find me -" She began, nervously twisting her long plait of ginger hair in her hands.

Ominis' consciousness - which had remained closed and inaccessible until that moment - suddenly invaded her own with its rage as his velvety voice thundered in her still confused and astonished mind.

"Careful, Anne! You don't want to spoil your act, do you? Although it would be better to call it a clown show." He told her telepathically with cutting sarcasm, hinting that he had guessed her intention to feign sympathy towards Salazar in order to reel in the secrets of his immense, frightening knowledge. "Silence, woman. I have not come to find you to speak with you." He declared in Parseltongue, speaking aloud as he advanced at a confident pace, stowing his wand in his pocket.

He moved the wooden chair to the side and stood in front of Anne, trapping her between him and the desk behind her as he clutched her waist to pull her to him in a fluid, confident gesture. Then he brought his right hand to the nape of her neck and yanked her hair, giving it a gentle tug to expose her white throat. He brushed her skin with his lips and continued to speak, moving his mouth against the spot where it was possible to perceive the erratic throb of her heart, which had increased its beats in response to his cold, menacing hisses.

"I came to find you because it is your duty to take care of my urges." "You owe me an explanation, Anne. But I do not intend to deny you the knowledge you seek - I will not spoil your theatrics. Just play along."

There was a heartless, thrilled laugh that echoed in the air as the disembodied entity that haunted that cursed place gloated over the dominant attitude of its worthy Heir towards his betrothed.

A surprised whimper escaped Anne throat as Ominis' lips moved from her neck to her mouth, and her hands instinctively clung to his Slytherin robes as her sweet dark eyes closed in a delicate flutter.

"I demand an explanation, Anne! What did you think you were doing, huh! Did you really think it was a good idea to come here without confronting me?" His tongue forced itself between her soft lips as his burning anger invaded her head with flaming words. "What did you think you were doing! I worried myself to death! I'm furious, Anne! And fucking disappointed!"

"How - how did you find me?"

"Sebastian saw you writing strange notes during class today. He was the one who suspected I would find you here tonight. And he was right!"

Anne felt neither anger nor resentment towards Sebastian, only sadness at having appeared strange and suspicious in the eyes of both her dear lads. That feeling again so genuine and remorseful elicited a new wave of positive emotions in Ominis, who hastened to conceal them behind the anger that still set him on fire, determined to the end to teach Anne a lesson before forgiving her.

His left hand remained buried in her plaited hair to curve her neck backwards while his right came to clasp around her white throat as the passion of his kiss intensified.

"I'm so sorry, Ominis!" Anne lost the thread of her thoughts for a moment as she felt Ominis' mouth pull away from hers to lick and then bite her soon after, pinching her soft lower lip between his teeth as if he wanted to eat it before taking her breath away again with a kiss. "Ominis, I'm - I'm deeply sorry!"

"Why didn't you tell me about your plan to come back here? How long have you been imagining doing such a thing!"

"It's something I thought about last night for the first time - I swear! Earlier this morning I was about to tell you, then - then -"

A blazing wave of anger pierced Anne's mind like a knife as Ominis moved his hand from her white throat and lowered his head to suck on her skin with greed and impatience.

"And why the fuck didn't you do that, Anne?" He asked, emphasising his disappointment with a nasty bite that made her jerk and moan before he resumed sucking her throat. "You don't have to tell me every fucking little thing that comes into your head, Anne. But something like this? Yes, for Merlin's sake!"

"I didn't - I didn't mean to do anything evil, Ominis! I swear! I swear!"

"I know, Anne. I'm not a fool! I know the effect it had on you to see Marvolo yesterday. I know how your brother's presence at the castle affects you. I know it frightened you to be caught off guard by both of them in a duel. And now that you're frightened, you came to the conclusion that you want to be the frightening one, I am right?"

On the immaculate white throat of the fair ginger a scarlet red mark was now visible, the result of the feral assault of the Heir of Slytherin. His mouth sought hers again as his hands slid the robes of her uniform off her shoulders, then he groped her arse with such a frenzied lust that seemed to suggest he was forgetting about the disembodied, degenerate entity lurking in the darkness - his act increasingly resembling a rush of authentic passion.

"How do you -"

"How do I know? I'm not an idiot, Anne! And I know everything about you - every trait of your character, the ones I love and the ones that piss me off!"

"I was ashamed to tell you that I wanted to come back here after what happened last year! I was ashamed, Ominis - I thought we were going to fight and - and -"

Ominis' wrath became, if possible, even more frightening, and Anne felt it so intensely that it seemed to flow through her own veins instead of blood.

"Ah, you thought we were going to fight! And tell me, isn't that precisely what we're doing now? I'd say you made exactly the wrong choice to avoid a fight." He replied with icy sarcasm.

"I - I would have told you everything! I cannot wait to share everything with you! Look at all the notes I took - no Dark Arts! Only Ancient Magic applied to Transfiguration and -"

"Anne, it could have been fucking dangerous! This is a cursed place - what's your brain telling you! What were you thinking anyway? To be able to come here and converse with the dark echo left behind by the patriarch of my rotten lineage like it was nothing? You think you're so good at pretending to be a pureblood maniac and a Dark Witch without my supervision? You don't even speak Parseltongue that well."

At that remark, Anne - at the same time vain and insecure as they come - seemed to lose her train of thought, and Ominis felt the sadness and mortification of his betrothed turn into a flicker of irritation and annoyance.

"I actually speak it fluently, in fact! And if I speak it poorly, it is only your fault seeing how incompetent a teacher you are!"

She tried to push him away from her, huffing at the ineffectiveness of her delicate hands that pressed in vain on his strong chest without moving him an inch. Unable to distance herself from him, she gave his tongue an impertinent nibble to at least manage to separate her mouth from his.

"I am not willing to take care of your urges, my Lord." She then hissed in Parseltongue, striving to sound as ominous and cold as he did.

But her serpentine words were undeniably exotic and melodic to his ears, and a mocking smile curved the corners of his mouth as he brought his lips close to hers once more. She did not withdraw, but unconsciously leaned towards him as if she could not stay away from him. He didn't try to kiss her again, however; he merely loomed over her, moving one hand to the desk behind her and keeping the other on her firm bottom.

In Anne's mind, Ominis' anger began to mingle with another intense emotion that she struggled to recognise at first, since it was as unexpected as it was familiar.

It was akin to a caress, a praise, a plea - a wave as warm and comforting as an embrace that caught her off guard.

And when he stepped forward to rub his groin with hers, she felt his erection push proudly against her belly.

Lust and impatience had mingled with his anger.

And in an instant Anne's mind became a tangle of disconnected thoughts in which happiness and thrill prevailed.

In spite of himself, a sweet smile formed on the face of the Heir of Slytherin when he felt her arousal gently caressing his mind, so tentative and subtle compared to his urgent, searing one. He swallowed and cleared his throat, rubbing his nose with Anne's whilst hissing in the very chilling and ominous tone of voice she had tried to imitate, failing miserably.

"You've been rather disobedient, looks like I need to discipline you." He told her deliberately.

"Ominis! There is - there is this evil entity in the shadows spying on us..."

"Fear not." "Rebellious as she may be, my bride-to-be is no vulgar whore. You will leave us alone." Ominis growled, addressing the ether all around him with such confidence and authority that Anne blushed crimson.

Another cruel laugh was heard, followed by an eerie whispering in the air.

"Mine Scriptorium now belongs to thee, most worthy Heir. Thou may do with it as thou wilt, and thou hast the authority to banish or summon me. Thou hast earned access to this place, mine echo is now here to serve and teach thee."

There was a gust of icy, howling wind, and the air within the Scriptorium suddenly seemed to grow lighter as the door to the torture chamber slammed shut with a dull thud. A scratching sound of claws grating impatiently on a hard surface was heard from the other side of the room, a sign that Salazar's twisted conscience regretted not being able to witness the carnal act about to be consummated.

"Better?" Ominis suddenly asked in a hoarse voice without, however, breaking their mental connection, as if he still wanted to verify the truth of her answers.

Anger and disappointment could still be discerned in the increasingly complicated tangle of emotions felt by the Heir of Slytherin at that moment, and Anne tried to soften them further. She entwined her fingers in his soft blond hair and sought his mouth with gentleness and just a hint of shyness as she struggled to concentrate on making him feel how much she longed to soothe him, to make peace with him, to make it up to him.

"You want to make it up to me, mmh?"

"Yes, my love - I -"

Anne felt Ominis' mind begin to slowly withdraw from hers, then stop before severing the connection altogether as if undecided as to what to do next. A moment later, he was slipping back into her thoughts more firmly, strengthening the bond.

"I'm staying here to be able to stop if it gets too intense for you." He told her telepathically.

"T-too intense?"

She stared intently at his face, feeling simultaneously a strong thrill of excitement and a vague sense of anxiety.

He smiled, and his smile lit up his blind blue eyes as a loving, playful emotion seemed to finally take over in contrast to the anger still sizzling in the back of his mind. He gently brought his right hand up to her face to caress her cheek, then ran his thumb over her flushed lips with deliberate slowness.

"Your mouth is perfect, Anne. I thought so from the moment I touched your face for the first time. And your tongue can be as sharp as it can be sweet depending on your mood - a forked tongue, indeed." He whispered as he lowered his head to chastely kiss her on the lips. "Today, this most appealing mouth of yours lied to me. It only seems fair that it should pleasure me now."

Anne enthusiastically moaned her assent and clung to Ominis' shoulders as if her life depended on it, rising on her tiptoes to continue kissing him. He let her do so, indulging her for a few moments as a satisfied grunt vibrated in his throat; then he pulled back and stripped off his Slytherin robes, tossing them onto the chair beside them.

"On your knees, Anne." He ordered her while unbuttoning his breeches and lowering them halfway down his legs.

She obeyed without hesitation, and as soon as her knees had settled on the dusty carpet at their feet, she rested her hands on his bare thighs, blushing slightly as his soft blond hair tickled her fingers. He guided her to his erection, resting his hands on either side of her head with striking possessiveness in order to pull her to him.

Anne didn't have much experience with oral intercourse and still felt very awkward giving it to Ominis, but she remembered what she had done the last time she had been on her knees in front of him and remembered being aroused in turn as she did her best to pleasure him. She smiled and closed her eyes as she opened her mouth, suddenly feeling more confident - a confidence that vanished in a heartbeat, however.

Ominis, always respectful of her inexperience, had never taken control during oral intercourse before, but the moment her soft lips wrapped around the swollen head of his cock, he thrust forward with unexpected force.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she tried to embarrassingly suppress a coughing fit. He didn't allow her much time to recover from the initial shock, however, and resumed pushing his cock down her throat, grunting with satisfaction.

Anne felt a vague sense of panic overwhelm her yet again, and immediately Ominis' movements became slower until they almost came to a halt. Suddenly she realised what he had meant earlier when he had decided to keep their minds joined together, and it was enough to calm her down as she struggled to concentrate on her partner's arousal, leaving her insecurities aside.

To spur him on, she sucked gently on his swollen head and it was enough for him to immediately regain control of the situation.

The Heir of Slytherin seemed intent on suffocating her with his intrusive length as he kept on thrusting into her mouth with fervour without stopping even though he felt her gagging out of control. His hands went on firmly guiding the movements of her head while hers pushed against his thighs as if trying to slow the pace of his thrusts - an instinctive gesture that didn't truly reflect her desires and of which he was aware thanks to Legilimency. Her tentativeness combined with the burning lust she felt at the idea of being at his mercy while pleasuring him ended up spurring him to move even more erratically and roughly, to the point that she began to drool without being able to keep his considerable size in her mouth despite her efforts.

It was a huge demonstration of trust from Anne's part, who tried her best to wrap her mouth around Ominis' cock without gagging, soon finding herself wet between her legs and overcome with lust as she did every time she let herself be dominated by him.

Her desire to let go completely leaving him in control and his urge to take care of her vulnerability and make her utterly his were made even more intense by their predicament that night.

When Ominis threw his head back panting loudly, Anne only had time to close her eyes as she felt small tears running down her long eyelashes from the effort of swallowing without choking, given the roughness with which he had pushed his cock down her throat.

Satisfaction and pride painted themselves on her face as she rose gracefully from the floor feeling her heart pounding with excitement.

"I can feel that you are very pleased with yourself." He murmured, bending towards the chair and rummaging through the pockets of his Slytherin robes.

"Because you enjoyed it." She replied, blushing and bringing her hands to her heart as his thoughts praised her without him needing to use words. "And - and I enjoyed it too!"

She felt his mind wandering to focus intently on his pockets with a hint of frustration.

"Ah, here it is. It was in my left pocket." Ominis mumbled, opening a small flask and taking a few sips of the potion in it.

When he had finished it, he threw the empty bottle on the wooden desk and turned to Anne with the faithful chestnut stalk clutched in his right hand. He brought his wand at her chest and rested it gently against her sternum, right between her breasts.

"What are you doing?" She asked embarrassed as her gaze fell on his left hand intent on masturbating his limp cock with slow, deliberate movements.

His arousal rose anew with disarming speed and might to the point of overwhelming her mind like a flooding river.

The chestnut stalk vibrated against the white shirt of its witty girl out of impatience.

"We're not done, Anne." Ominis tapped the tip of his wand against her sternum as a playful smile curved his thin lips upwards. "Evanesco."

Anne found herself completely naked in the middle of the Scriptorium and her first instinct was to cover her breasts and her sex with her hands, but Ominis didn't allow her time to feel anxiety or protest: he took a step forward and pushed her bottom against the desk as he unceremoniously slipped a hand between her thighs. She immediately stopped trying to cover herself and clung to his shirt, moaning with desire as she arched her back and spread her legs.

"Here it is - my most prized possession. My cunt." He whispered, looming over her and burying his nose in the crook of her neck.

He slid his index and middle fingers along her smooth, swollen slit, and he let a soft grunt slip from his lips when he noticed that her slender legs were trembling with arousal.

"Bloody Hell - nothing swells my ego like you getting wet for me, love."

"Ominis, take care of me - p-please!"

She pleaded with both her words and her feelings and it was very effective; goose bumps formed on Ominis' back as he felt her vulnerability and her lust at once shameless and shy as if those emotions were his own. However, he stopped touching Anne between her legs and rested his hand on the desk as he had done with the other, trapping her naked body between him and the furniture as he resumed sucking on her neck where the scarlet mark he left before was marring her white throat.

The vague discomfort caused by the overstimulated skin on which Ominis was raging yet again made Anne's heartbeat quicken, heightening her arousal as she tried to push him away from her whilst simultaneously trying to expose her neck even more to his attack.

He sensed that, and it was just the reaction he was looking for.

"I can feel what you want, Anne. Will you behave if I give it to you?"

"Yes - yes, Ominis! Yes, please - I -"

Without haste and without hesitation Ominis' hands gripped Anne’s waist firmly. She let herself be guided as he urged her to turn round and face the wooden desk. He left his right hand on her waist and moved his left between her shoulder blades, losing control of his breathing and beginning to pant as he stroked the soft skin of her back.

"You see, love, the thing is that tonight your behaviour has hurt me. And now I kind of want this to hurt you a little in turn." "I'm always here, though. I'll know if it gets too intense, my love."

Exerting pressure with the hand that was resting between her shoulder blades, he bent her over the desk until she was lying completely flat on the wooden surface under the indifferent gaze of the hideous marble statue looming over them.

In her eagerness to indulge Ominis', Anne knocked over the inkwell she had been taking notes with and ruined the parchment she had been writing on, crumpling it with her trembling hands and her flat stomach as she lay on the creaking wood beneath her: she had spent the entire evening in that cursed place in order to take that notes, yet she didn't care at all that they had been destroyed - her judgement clouded by desire as she anticipated what was about to happen to her.

She tried to arch her back, but Ominis kept her firmly pinned against the desk and when she weakly tried to resist, he slapped her arse. The wanton, startled cry that echoed in the dusty air of the Scriptorium earned her another slap, then Ominis stepped forward and aligned his erection with her tight entrance. He stood still for a few moments, letting his cock rest menacingly against her folds to keep her on her toes. He felt incoherent thoughts take shape in her head as she pathetically thrust her arse up in the air and spread her legs as if she was desperately begging him to take her hard. But the Heir of Slytherin stood as still as a statue, enjoying for a moment the pleading vocalisations and rambling thoughts of his betrothed.

When he moved, he did so slowly, re-adjusting his right hand on her waist after rubbing her soothingly on the spot where he had spanked her earlier; however, it was abruptly and without any warning that he thrust inside her.

He took her breath away, and he didn't wait for her to recover from his intrusion before continuing.

Anne was still trembling and whimpering from the initial shock and pain at being breached - her cunt was spasming out of control around Ominis' cock trying to adjust to his size without having been prepared for penetration, but he did not stop and continued to thrust hard inside her with complete abandon despite her pained cries and the intense burning sensation she was feeling between her legs. It was precisely because of that, however, that she was able to reach such a height of pleasure she had never experienced before; after some initial distress, the mounting, overwhelming pressure Ominis was forcing her to endure overstimulated her cunt, making it as sensitive as ever - a bundle of nerves sparking waves of pleasure in every fibre of her being at the slightest touch, at the slightest friction.

She came with a choked cry as she crumpled the ink-stained parchment sheets with her fingers, asking Ominis with both her voice and her thoughts to keep going - frightened and excited at the same time by the things he was making her feel.

Spurred on by her orgasm, he followed his instincts, concentrating only on her tight slit clamping around him as if her body was begging him to push deeper inside her warmth. He would have liked to hold out longer, to feel her come all over his cock at least one more time before giving in, but hearing her frantic thoughts and realising how much she wanted to be taken by him like that pushed him over the edge faster than he had expected.

Within the stale air of the Scriptorium echoed the laboured grunts of the Heir of Slytherin as he continued to roughly hump his lovely ginger while standing behind her.

"Anne, don't ever fucking lie to me again. Don't ever do something like this again." Ominis panted as his thrusts became more and more erratic.

His green tie dangled over Anne's arched back tickling her, the muscles in his strong stomach were taut and shuddering from the exertion he had endured to keep up the unrelenting pace of his thrusts.

"Promise me, Anne! I - I can't lose you, for fuck's sake - do you understand that? I -"

Ominis' words were lost in a hoarse grunt; his hands gripped Anne's hips firmly whilst his cock hardened and swelled slightly, spilling his seed into her soft, welcoming cunt.

"I - I love you, Anne. I fucking love you to death."

She wanted to reply, but her voice died in her throat yet again: only a broken gasp escaped her lips as she finally arched her back freely, tightening around Ominis with all the desperate force of her orgasm.

A moment later, she felt him gently stroking her back, inviting her to stand up again as he pulled out.

Once on her feet, Anne turned and threw her arms around Ominis' neck, hiding her face against his chest; they remained embraced for a moment in the eerie silence of the Scriptorium - both perspiring, both breathing hard. He focused his attention on her thoughts, lovingly caressing her mind with his to make sure she felt no discomfort now that the intercourse was over.

"Nothing is aching, my love. I will definitely be sore tomorrow, but I am fine at the moment. Wonderfully so." She reassured him as a tired smile curved the corners of her mouth upwards.

A satisfied hum rose in Ominis' throat as he gently severed the mental connection established through Legilimency.

"Summon something to cover yourself. Let's get out of here." He told her in a neutral tone of voice, pulling away from the embrace and adjusting his breeches.

"But Ominis, my notes are ruined and -"

"We'll come back another time, Anne. Together." He emphasised the last word, tilting his head towards the door behind them where ghostly claws could still be heard scratching against the door. "We have lingered too long in this cursed place. If you need to expand your knowledge of the Dark Arts, I reluctantly promise we will return here. But we are leaving now, and quickly so."

Suddenly seized by the mental clarity that typically follows a male orgasm, the Heir of Slytherin quickly dressed and the fair ginger did the same.

Anxiety and insecurity returned to clutter Anne's mind: she wished she could stay in Ominis' arms, cuddle with him, talk with him and clarify what had happened that evening to be sure that his anger had truly been quelled. She was perfectly aware that they were standing in a place that was by no means the right place to do such things - indeed, they had been far too bold and shameless already! - but she could not help but find cold and detached his sudden haste to leave the Scriptorium just after they shared such an intimate moment.

They climbed back up to the upper floor of the chamber and opened once more the secret passage that connected the Scriptorium to the dungeon. Ominis came out first and Anne tried to take him by the hand only to be pushed aside forcefully.

Without turning to face her, the blind serpent made a quick wand movement and cast the Disillusionment Charm at her just in time to hide her from the sight of the Slytherin Prefect, whose footsteps echoed a short distance away from them as if he were about to come forth from the nearest column.

"Be quiet, Anne." He hissed in Parseltongue without turning around.

"I beg your pardon?" The Prefect asked, turning the corner. "Ah, what have we here? A student out of bed! The Headmaster's pet, no less. Think you're untouchable, do you, Gaunt? With all the privileges you enjoy you must be used to getting away with it all the time."

"I wouldn't say that, no."

The seventh-year lad turned his head to the side and laughed sardonically - brown curls that had been powdered far too much fell back on his forehead as he shook his head in mock sorrow.

"A spoiled nobleman, that's what you are, Gaunt. Naturally, I hold your lineage in great esteem and share your ideals - if you know what I mean." He paused for dramatic effect and his small dark eyes fixed themselves on Ominis' face glinting wickedly, as if he were drunk with power at the idea of being in a position to punish and humiliate someone seen as powerful and established. "However, I loathe those who get everything out of life without earning it."

Ominis burst out laughing at that - a hysterical, bitter laugh that only angered the Prefect.

"Ah, is that so, Gaunt? Are you mocking me? Do you really think yourself so superior? Well, you will stop laughing when I am done with you!"

"Careful with the threats. I don't think those can be found among Prefects' duties."

"We all know that if I assigned you a detention the Headmaster would spare you, but how about this? I take fifty points from Slytherin! Sure I'm penalising my own House, but that's actually on the list of duties of an honest Prefect, you know? Just think, in three days we've barely earned fifty points... Everyone will know what you did, Gaunt, and I really want to see how our housemates will take this – whether they will continue to adore you or not. "

"Nobody adores me anyway. They fear me which is different."

"Is that a threat, Gaunt? Am I to be afraid of you too?"

At those mocking words, Ominis sighed deeply, as if drawing on all his self-control not to punch the Prefect.

"Head to your dormitory, Gaunt. I must continue the patrol. For I have duties and responsibilities!" The slimy snake slithered towards the depths of the dungeon, stopping after a few steps to shout one last taunt. "Who knows what gossip will be heard within the castle walls tomorrow! What were you doing all alone in the middle of the night without your lovely Anne Smith?"

Anne gritted her teeth and broke the Disillusionment Charm: she was determined to run after the Prefect and insult him, but Ominis stopped her coming to stand tall and resolute in front of her before she could move a single step.

"What do you think you are doing, Anne? There's a reason I asked you to stay hidden - that prick would have done a lot worse if he had found out about you too."

"But, Ominis! He acted like an utter arse!"

"No matter."

Anne's rosy lips curved downwards as she sadly lowered her gaze to the stone floor. Ominis was on edge and visibly angry, the chat with the Prefect had only served to worsen the situation creating further tension.

"I'm sorry... It's my fault we were discovered here at this hour. I should have taken responsibility."

"I prefer it that way, Anne. Don't worry about me - I can stand the humiliation."

"But -"

Ominis huffed impatiently and pointed the chestnut stalk in front of him, moving a few steps towards the entrance of their common room.

"Come on, Anne: it's late. If we linger here any longer, we'll get into more trouble. We shall head straight to bed."

Anne's heart sank and she felt her breath catch.

She stepped in front of Ominis with an agile leap, clutching his strong shoulders with her delicate hands to halt his gait. She gazed with despair at his handsome, yet terribly sombre features and spoke, cursing herself internally at the blatant way her voice trembled.

"My love, wouldn't - wouldn't you prefer it if we went off to sleep in the Room of Requirement? Don't - don't you want to sleep beside me?"

"We are already here, Anne..."

He huffed again, tired and terribly annoyed; then he tilted his head to the side and brought his left hand to her nape to caress what remained of her now half-loose plait. His fingers intertwined with her soft ginger locks, then suddenly brushed the petals of his enchanted rose.

"All right, my love. Let's hurry though - it is indeed late." He murmured, offering her his arm and guiding her out of the dungeons.

They arrived at the Room of Requirement after silently walking through the empty halls of the castle. Once inside, Ominis made his way without hesitation to the spiral staircase that led to Anne's loft chamber.

They both got ready for bed without exchanging many words.

The lovely ginger put on a summer nightgown of pure white cotton, hiding behind her four-panel booth; when she had finished changing, she leaned over the right-hand panel of the booth just enough to rest her sweet dark eyes on the Heir of Slytherin and get an idea of his mood.

He lay naked in bed as he was wont to, breathing shallowly and keeping his hands tucked under his head with his elbows pointing outwards: he didn't appear particularly uneasy, just tired and vaguely sad.

Anne tried to dart playfully into bed and jump on top of him to smother him with kisses, but he grabbed her gently as soon as she was close to him and rolled her onto her left side, lying behind her and cradling her in his arms. If for a moment she felt sorry that he was in no mood for playfulness, being held in his embrace soothed her at once.

Ominis had buried his face in her hair and his breath tickled her right ear. His left arm slid under Anne's neck, his right wrapped around her thin body.

"I want to teach you Occlumency, Anne. It's awful that you are unable to defend yourself against a mental attack. I caught you by surprise tonight. If it had been anyone else – Marvolo, for instance - they would have discovered all your secrets about the Map Chamber." Ominis murmured in her ear, instinctively holding her tighter in his coils.

"Occlumency? Are you serious?"

"Most certainly." He replied in a whisper - voice slightly strained with weariness and infinitely sad at the same time.

Silence fell.

Ominis slowly kissed Anne's nape as he kept on nuzzling her hair with tenderness.

''Anne, all you have to do is ask. Dark Arts, Salazar Slytherin - I don't care and it doesn’t matter to me. I would do anything for you, anything! All you have to do is ask. ...All you had to do today was ask."

Anne felt another pang in her heart and tried to turn to Ominis to hug him tightly and apologise again. His arm, however, was stiff and did not allow her to move, and listening intently to the cadence of his breath against her hair she realised that he must have fallen asleep, suddenly overcome by tiredness.

"Good night, my love. I - I love you..." She whispered as she tried to fall asleep in turn.

"Miss Smith, it's seven o'clock in the morning! Time to get up! Deek has baked sweet rolls for breakfast if Miss Smith and Lord Gaunt would like some."

Deek's shrill voice reached Anne's ears from the ground floor of her private chambers in the Room of Requirement. Her rosy lips immediately curved downwards and for a moment she was tempted to pretend she had not heard the house-elf speak. Five minutes passed before Anne resigned herself to the fact that the day was indeed about to begin; she propped herself up on her elbows with a snort and turned to Ominis, still fast asleep.

He had not let go of her for an instant during his sleep, and his sinewy arms were still wrapped around her lean body.

Gently, she pushed him onto his back and snuggled tightly against his chest without him putting up any resistance.

From downstairs came the sound of sizzling frying pans that always filled the air in the Room of Requirement whenever Deek prepared breakfast for his favourite students, and as grateful as the lovely ginger was to him, that morning she couldn't help but feel a strong wave of irritation and an equally strong pang of sadness at the idea of not being alone with Ominis.

She wished she could talk to him, pick up the threads of the conversation they had left unfinished the night before. She was well aware that she had made a mistake and was potentially in the wrong, and she wanted above all else to show him how much she regretted not having acted differently, caught up as she had been in her anxieties and fears.

The night before had been simply disastrous.

She had managed to deeply disappoint Ominis, and Anne did not feel satisfied with the things they had said to each other; she did not believe they had really understood one another and cleared the air. And if they hadn't discussed the incident thoroughly enough, it was only because they had indulged in a moment of passion that felt as intimate as it felt strange, just as his attitude had been strange and cold once it was all over. Having sex in the middle of the fight had been exciting in the moment, but now in perspective it seemed wrong, it seemed to have taken the focus off important things that hadn't been sufficiently clarified. Not to mention the icing on the cake, the encounter with the Prefect that had generated even more tension in an already quite tense situation.

Ominis had been gallant, as usual: the instinct to protect her and shield her in every situation was so ingrained in him that it overcame even anger. But Anne did not find it fair that he should have taken all the blame when in truth they had got into trouble because of her, and this only added to the anguish in her heart and mind.

So much tension had built up the night before that perhaps it had been good that he had fallen asleep suddenly, giving them both a night to digest their negative emotions.

"Good morning, my love." She whispered in an attempt to wake him as she shyly brought her left hand to his face.

She gently ran her fingers through his soft blond hair, smiling softly to herself as she thought that early mornings right after waking up were the only time of the day when it was possible to see Ominis dishevelled.

"Good morning, my sweet love." She repeated, moving her hand to his scarred chest - diamond dust and fine silver glittered faintly in the candlelight right where his heart beat. "Would you like to talk about what happened yesterday while we're eating breakfast? Deek is fixing it - unfortunately we can't ‘cuddle’ this morning."

The Heir of Slytherin frowned without opening his eyes and grunted in annoyance.

"Let me sleep, Anne. I'm tired." He muttered in a low voice laced with sleep, spitting out each word as if it cost him immense effort.

A veil of tears blurred Anne's vision for a moment, and she was quick to remove her hand from Ominis' chest to gently rub her eyes as if the gesture served to completely erase her anxiety as well as stop the crying.

Ominis was always lazy and lax in the mornings, but never cold towards her. On the contrary, morning was a time when he usually couldn't keep his hands and mouth off her, utterly intoxicated by her scent and the warmth of her soft skin. Not to mention that refusing to talk to her was just as strange and out of the ordinary.

Anne sat in bed for a moment, watching Ominis as he slipped back into the oblivion of sleep.

"Deeds matter more than words." She then said to herself with resolve as she slid nimbly out of bed. "If I really want to show Ominis that I am sorry for what happened yesterday, there is no point in smothering him with my anxiety: I must take matters into my own hands and act."

She got ready very quickly to leave the Room of Requirement - so quickly that she skipped every rigorous beauty routine she used to perform as soon as she woke up. She cast one last glance at Ominis lying in bed before going downstairs to the ground floor of the Room of Requirement where she tore a blank page from a book thrown haphazardly on a table to write him a short love letter.

"Give this to Ominis when he wakes up." She said addressing Deek with a smile as she folded the paper, handing it to him. "And if he still hasn't woken up in about twenty minutes, wake him up. Otherwise he'll be late for class."

"Deek wonders where Miss Smith is going so early. Deek has prepared breakfast, Miss Smith doesn't need to get to the Great Hall and it's early for the start of class."

"I have something important to do before lessons begin."

Anne turned to the door and inhaled deeply as if she were about to dive into the water from a very high cliff, then walked out of the Room of Requirement at a brisk pace, only to re-enter five minutes later, grab a couple of sweet rolls from the tray Deek was holding as he softly shook his head, and then leave her private chambers again, nodding to the house-elf.

In the time it took the fair ginger to cross the silent hallways of the castle and arrive at her destination, the sweet rolls she held in her hands disappeared bite by bite, and it was with sticky fingers and a veil of chocolate smeared at the right corner of her mouth that she knocked on the heavy door of the Transfiguration Classroom.

Professor Weasley greeted her with surprise - a steaming mug of tea was resting on her desk amidst the multitude of papers she had to work through in order to sort out all the loose ends relating to the start of the new academic year. She invited her student to sit down with a serious expression painted on her features, as if she expected the Keeper to give her an urgent warning concerning the secrets she kept in the foundations of Hogwarts.

"Professor, I have come to take responsibility for what happened last night. Fifty points were taken from Slytherin as you may know." Said the Troll Slayer instead, licking the chocolate off her soft lips with nonchalance as soon as she realised she had dirty herself.

"Yes, your Prefect informed me. Mr Gaunt was loitering in the dungeon well past curfew. Was he - was he by any chance assisting you? Was there, by any chance, any problem with the - well, you know - with the Repository?"

"Oh? No, none of that, Professor. When I say I have to take responsibility for what happened, I mean exactly that. I'm the one who was loitering outside the dormitory well past curfew. And I'm ashamed to admit that I wasn't in the Room of Requirement, let alone engaged in fulfilling my duty as a Keeper - I was simply breaking the rules and mucking around like any other irresponsible student."

Professor Weasley - who up to that point had been standing as taut as a violin string - suddenly slumped in her chair leaning her fat body against the wooden backrest and sighing as if she was feeling exhausted.

"Miss Smith, you've always been defiant and rebellious, but I almost don't recognise you these days... Please, go on." She said contritely, showing all her genuine sorrow at once again finding herself in the position of having to scold Hogwarts' heroine.

"Mr Gaunt came looking for me, being the responsible student and impeccable gentleman that he is. He would never have been out of bed at that hour if it hadn't been for me, but he still took all the blame. I've slept on it and decided I don't want to leave things as they are - the fault is mine and it's only fair that I face the consequences of the misdeed."

"But Mr Gaunt covered for you. And however noble his intentions, he still went against the rules."

Anne began to fiddle nervously with her ginger locks; she had left her hair loose that morning without even brushing it: her tresses were all tangled in knots, and touching them gave her a vague sense of annoyance.

"I'm not here to ask for the points that were taken from Slytherin to be restored." She said letting go of her hair and flicking her gaze to the floor. "I'm here to shed light on what happened, admit my guilt, and accept the punishment. Because this is the right thing to do."

"This is commendable. I am very glad you came to talk to me, Miss Smith. And I am genuinely surprised - few would have done so in your place."

"It is true. It is also true that few would have behaved as I did last night." "Indeed, very few, Professor - I assure you."

Professor Weasley brought her hands to her temples as if she were in the throes of a severe migraine, then loosened her dishevelled bun of auburn hair and proceeded to style it again as if taking her time before replying.

"Merlin, how I detest giving punishments! Especially to mischievous but honest students. You and my nephew are champions at this!" She finally said, laughing softly. "Today, you will not report to class, Miss Smith. Instead, you will report to the Detention Chamber where Mr Moon will confine you till evening. I hope a day of solitude will help you sort out your thoughts, my dear girl."

With an elegant wand movement, the Deputy Headmistress conjured up a piece of parchment on which she wrote a brief note, presumably intended for Mr Moon.

Without adding anything else, Anne curtsied and turned towards the oak door of the Transfiguration Classroom to head for the dungeon.

As soon as she took her first steps towards her destination, she suddenly felt light, as if a weight had been lifted from her heart. She greeted Mr Moon feeling a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, and that expression as ebullient as it was serene remained etched on her face even as she found herself sitting on the dirty stone floor of the Detention Chamber with a heavy enchanted chain clasped around her left ankle.

Perhaps Professor Weasley was right: she needed time to reflect, to meditate, to empty her head of anxieties and fears, rather than throw herself into the pursuit of a boundless power that in truth already belonged to her.

For the Keeper was already an incredibly powerful, cunning and formidable witch for her age.

Except that she sometimes forgot that.

But it was time for her to remember that.

It was time to clear her mind and truly be herself, not the product of fears and insecurities. So she thought back to the chill of the Dementors and all the other nightmarish creatures she had faced fearlessly, and again to the human monsters that frightened her so much - her family, Ominis', and Marvolo above all others.

"Fear is an important emotion, and it is just as important to feel it as any other emotion. Fear is the thing that saves one's life at the moment of danger, the thing that makes one find the strength to react. But I can't let myself be dominated by fear. If I let that happen, I lose control over reality, and Ominis cannot always be there to fill that role for me." The Slytherin girl pointed her expressive dark eyes at the stone ceiling of the dungeon as she was wont to do whenever she chased her thoughts, as if there, among dampness and cobwebs, lay the answers she sought. "My fear is part of me, but I am not my fear."

A feminine, vaguely hysterical giggle was heard in the silence of the cramped Detention Chamber. Then Anne settled more comfortably against the hard wall she was sitting against, feeling her heartbeat slowing and her breathing becoming smoother.

Temporarily isolated from the rest of the world and surprisingly serene, she closed her eyes as one last thought flashed through her mind.

"I've worked my brain too hard, all these philosophical thoughts have made me sleepy."

The clamour inside the Great Hall was deafening.

Sebastian sat at the Slytherin table glaring at the sausages he had put on his plate as he tried to ignore the many - too many - conversations that were taking place all around him.

"He made us lose fifty points! Fifty points, do you hear me! That prick of a Gaunt!"

"Gaunt's too fucking clever to get caught like that, though. There's definitely something going on!"

"You think he slept with a girl on the sly? Apparently he wasn't with Smith last night."

"And she hasn't been seen all day! She must have locked herself away somewhere crying!"

"Who, the Troll Slayer? The most coveted piece of cunt in all the Highlands?! If Gaunt is shagging another girl, he's just impossible to please."

"I thought her hand was pledged to him!"

Sebastian was just about to get up and leave without eating a single bite of his dinner.

All day long he had had to endure the hateful whispers that had spread through the castle, all day long he had had to listen as the honour of the young witch he was in love with and that of his best friend were being butchered. On several occasions he had been tempted to cast the Horn Tongue Hex on the slanderers to see how much fun they would have spewing shite with a horn in place of their tongue, but Ominis had prevented him from doing so with a smile and a shrug, saying that it was not worth giving rise to rumours. Sebastian sincerely admired his composure, he would have loved to be able to react with the dignity that distinguished the Heir of Slytherin.

But he was absolutely unable to do so.

He unconsciously shoved his hand into his pocket, clenching his fist around the hilt of his wand, undecided whether to cast Arresto Momentum on the mouths of his fellow housemates or punish them with a nice Bee-Sting Jinx.

Before Sebastian could take the opportunity to get into trouble as usual, silence fell in the Great Hall and when he looked up to see what had suddenly attracted the attention of the other students, he found himself face to face with Anne Smith.

She was standing before him, a radiant smile curving her rosy lips upwards, brightening her features.

"Were you talking about me?" She asked nonchalantly to the lad who had just called her ‘the most coveted piece of cunt in all the Highlands’.

"Yes!" He replied caught off guard by that question, getting slapped and kicked by his friends as a consequence.

"All horrible things, I hope." Anne retorted without stopping smiling.

She sat down on the wooden bench next to Sebastian, who stared at her open-mouthed as if she had suddenly started speaking in an unknown language while nervously tapping his right foot on the stone floor. She watched the dancing leg of her friend for a moment, then placed a hand on his thigh and patted him playfully to invite him to compose himself, feeling his strong muscles jolt at the contact.

"You look calm." Sebastian murmured, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

"I like to be disliked." She replied while her smile widened as she thought back to the way Ominis had addressed those same words to her precisely a year before. "You're not going to eat these? Do you mind?" She then added, stealing a sausage from Sebastian's plate and swallowing it without either grace nor decorum.

"You talk like Ominis. And you eat like a wild beast."

"I know. Where is he?"

"I think he's looking for you. Before dinner we parted and he mumbled something about the Headmaster's or Deputy Headmistress' office - I didn't quite understand. He was in a good mood today, weirdly enough - had a stupid grin plastered on his face for the whole day." The Slytherin heartthrob ran a hand through his hair messing up his unruly bush of brown locks as usual while casting a sidelong glance at the Troll Slayer. "He told me what happened yesterday. I guess you don't feel like talking about it - or at least not here and now -"

"That's right, Sebastian: here and now is not really the time to talk about that place." She replied quickly, interrupting him. "Say, why are you all alone? Where is Anne?"

"Ah, my sister is... Well - she's... Wait, where the fuck is my sister?"

Sebastian stood up and cast a vaguely apprehensive glance around the Great Hall, where in the meantime all the students had resumed talking and making noise. His eyes carefully scanned the entire Slytherin table and then went over the other tables to see if by any chance his sister was somewhere chatting with somebody.

"Hmm. I don't know where Anne is. She must have retired to the common room, maybe she wasn't hungry." He concluded, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

The Keeper laughed, and her sweet dark eyes sparkled with amusement as they met Sebastian’s. She stood up and gave him a playful poke to the stomach, motioning for him to follow her towards the exit of the Great Hall.

"Let's go, come on."

"Go where, pray tell?"

"I ran into Lucan on my way here. There's another evening gathering at the club today. We can't miss it."

Sebastian was already following Anne intent on leaving the dining hall, and at those words he jerkily raised his head to stare at her with the air of someone who is holding his breath in astonishment.

"If I remember correctly, we didn't have much fun last time, red." He simply said.

"That's water under the bridge, Sebastian! Lucan was already on his way to the Clock Tower Entrance and that prick Prewett is nowhere to be seen. They'll already be at the club. So will many others."

"Red, I -"

The Slytherin heartthrob's breath caught as the lovely ginger took him by the hand, turning her head to smile at him with that serene, radiant countenance that made her lips even more alluring than they already were.

"Sebastian, are you or are you not my duelling partner? Let's go wreak havoc in that bloody arena! I was nervous the other day and our duel was one hell of a debacle, but tonight - oh, tonight! - I assure you I will entertain you!"

Sebastian found himself nodding, idiotically enthusiastic. A moment later he found himself practically running through the halls of the castle to keep up with Anne who was tugging at his hand, laughing.

Their footsteps echoed on the marble, stone and wooden floors they galloped across like children playing freely in a meadow.

When they reached the narrow bridge connecting the Gryffindor Tower and the Clock Tower Entrance, they crossed it, slowing their pace as they tried to pull themselves together without stopping laughing.

A large group of students were huddled together chatting - the tips of their wands lit to dispel the darkness of the summer evening. They watched in silence as the Troll Slayer adjusted her Slytherin robes over her shoulders and tightened the knot on her tie while her duelling partner walked proudly by her side doing the same.

Anne and Sebastian entered Crossed Wand arena with slow, arrogant strides, and just as had happened in the Great Hall, silence immediately fell among the crowd of spectators once they saw the Keeper arrive.

Sebastian stiffened for a moment but was quick to follow Anne to the centre of the arena as she continued to advance, waving cheerfully at Lucan - seemingly indifferent to the evil whispers of the other students.

Behind the young club mediator, two seventh-year lads were warming up for a fight. They were both shirtless, and one of them was flaunting a build worthy of a Hellenic marble statue - all darting muscles and snow-white skin. Behind them on the wooden bench in their corner of the arena were their Hufflepuff shirts and robes, guarded by a bloke with brown hair so powdered it looked grey and a Prefect's badge pinned to his chest.

"Good evening, brother." Anne greeted in a melodious voice with a seemingly harmless and serene expression plastered on her face as she approached Samuel. "I was wondering if you would like to challenge me to a duel again. The other night you probably would have won, but my duelling partner intervened and as a result we left the challenge between us sort of ‘hanging’, shall we say." She hinted another smile - her right hand snapped to her hair to nervously twirl her soft ginger locks around her fingers, but she was quick to hide her insecurity by tucking an unruly strand behind her ear as if that had been her intention all along.

"Fine with me, sister. How about we fight one on one this time, though? That way we avoid further interferences from the outside - from your partner as much as from mine."

"I have a better idea. How about I fight alone against you and...? What's the name of your other friend? The one on the bench? Oh, Hell - I just can't remember!" Anne had leaned over to point at the lad sitting behind Samuel - an innocent, calm expression was painted on her face, but her burning anger was reflected in her expressive dark eyes for those who were truly observant. "And to say that he is my Prefect! But he has such a bland personality that after a year his name still hasn't stuck in my head. Whatever! Lucan, what do you say? Can it be done or do you forbid it?"

Lucan looked simultaneously astonished and excited at the idea, and turned without hesitation towards the audience to loudly announce the duel. The Slytherin Prefect stood up abruptly from the bench he was sitting on, blurting out bluster as he stripped off his robes and drew his wand. Samuel Smith's duelling partner approached him to take his place on the bench and offered his hand to high-five him as the red-haired badger took a step towards his sister.

"Do you really think you can beat us both? Ridiculous. The ambition of a Slytherin, I suppose." He said to her mockingly; however he wasn't looking her in the eyes, his attention was completely absorbed by the crowd of students as if he was looking for someone in particular in the throng while a barely discernible blush stood out on the flawless white skin of his handsome features.

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm just confident because I'm aware of my abilities, brother."

"Of course, as you wish. Who am I to stop you? It is your funeral, sister."

He retreated a few steps to join the Slytherin Prefect and assume a duelling stance as Anne stepped back in turn, handing Sebastian her robes and pulling up her shirt sleeves.

"Knock 'em down, red. I bet ten galleons you'll be sweeping the floor with their arses within ten minutes."

"Ten minutes? Make it five, Sebastian."

"Five? I'll bet twenty galleons then."

"You don't have twenty galleons to bet. "

Sebastian laughed as he pulled Anne into a brief hug. There was no apprehension on his face, he had only had to watch her confident, focused expression to know immediately that he was not standing before a lost and frightened child that night: he was standing before the Keeper, the one who swept away hordes of goblins and disintegrated armoured trolls. He gave her a kiss on the forehead and winked at her before walking lazily to the bench in her corner of the arena, ready to cheer her on.

Anne turned to look first at the Prefect and then at her brother. She felt a wave of fear mixed with anger surge through her, and when she realised she could not put them aside, she decided instead to channel them and use them to maintain her concentration rather than lose it.

None of the duellists standing in the arena made to bow, and without wasting time - as if sharing a single brain cell - Samuel and the slimy snake at his side pointed their wands at their opponent, shouting in unison.

"Impedimenta!"

"Brachiabindo!"

Anne deflected the combination of hexes casting Protego on herself without batting an eyelid. The jinxes bounced off her protective shield and were absorbed by the wards that had been set around the arena to shield the spectators from any rouge spells.

The Troll Slayer pointed her wand exactly between her opponents intending to conjure a tongue of fire to separate them and confront them separately.

"Incendio!" She shouted.

It was at that moment, as a slow, searing blaze began to erupt from the tip of the ebony spiral, that Anne noticed something that made her skin crawl: Samuel was reacting swiftly to her attack and seemed ready to cast a non-verbal spell whilst his left arm was swung towards her as if he were about to crack a whip - a small white light clearly discernible on the tip of his wand.

The innocence of the spectators was such that no one - even those who might have known a little about the Unforgivable Curses - understood the intentions of Helga's descendant, who was moving too fast and too elegantly for anyone other than an Auror to understand what he was doing without him uttering the curse aloud.

But Anne and Sebastian recognised the Imperius Curse in a split second, and as he snapped to his feet, feeling every single hair on his body stand up in horror, she reacted like the Vicious Viper she was.

She didn't stop to ask herself why her brother was so set on winning that night, to the point that he was willing to risk a reckless - not to mention illegal - move like that in front of a whole crowd of students just to humiliate her. Instead, she focused solely on her counter-move.

Time seemed to slow down, and before Samuel's wrist finished its swing, Anne extinguished the flame she had begun to conjure and relied on a faster and more devastating spell.

"Bombarda!" She shouted without hesitation, continuing to point the ebony spiral at the floor between the two duellists.

The Slytherin Prefect was thrown sideways by the explosion - his uniform torn and his small, odious mouth bloody. Samuel Smith lost his balance and was thrown sideways by the explosion too; cuts and bruises appeared on his bare chest, which were sure to bleed and worsen if he didn't resort to a Wiggenweld Potion soon. Grumbling and shaking their heads to chase away the ringing in their ears, the two lads tried to stand up, but Anne was already prepared to finish them off.

Moving deliberately slowly, she advanced, muttering "Locomotor Wibbly" as her wrist pointed swiftly first at one opponent and then the other.

The duellists' legs immediately collapsed, and Anne slowly approached her brother to tower over him as she waited for the necessary time to pass before declaring the duel over due to the immobility of her opponents.

The two siblings looked at each other.

"See, brother? You're not the only one who knows any curses." She said in a mellifluous, mocking tone - her voice low and drowned out by the clamour of the crowd.

Samuel's face immediately flushed with astonishment and shame when he realised that his sister had recognised the curse he had tried to cast on her.

"You are seeing things, sister. Perhaps you're not feeling well."

"Perhaps. No matter what I saw, I couldn't prove it anyway." She paused, as if unsure whether to continue speaking. "You're pathetic, Samuel. Rather than let me win a stupid duel - in order to humiliate and ridicule your ‘weird’ sister, you were ready to - to... What would you have made me do? Fall on my arse and burst into tears?"

He didn't answer and she said nothing more; they just stared intently into each other's eyes until she murmured "Finite Incantatem" and then turned to the crowd with her hands raised high victoriously.

Her right fist was firmly clenched around the snakeskin hilt of her wand, her long ginger hair fell in soft waves down her back despite being tousled and slightly sweaty, and her expression was once again radiant and self-assured.

The audience shouted her name at the top of their lungs, clasping their hands together and cheering her enthusiastically, but Anne's heart was filled with pride for another reason, and as several people came forward to congratulate her, she ran towards the person who was most dear to her in the whole world.

Handsome and noble, Ominis stood among the clamouring students, chestnut stalk pointed before him and blind blue eyes veiled with love.

He caught Anne in his arms, losing his balance and laughing with delight when she crashed into his chest, clinging tightly to him. His scent of expensive cologne and clean laundry wrapped her in an intangible embrace, but still just as strong as that of his arms.

Without thinking, she stood on her tiptoes to capture his lips in a kiss. Ominis did not pull away, but instead put his hand on the back of her head and dared to touch her tongue with his for a moment, despite the embarrassed whispering of the girls and the teasing remarks of the lads around them.

"You came." She murmured against his lips.

"Did you think I wouldn't find you? When Professor Weasley told me that your detention was over, I figured I'd find you here."

"And you came. For me."

"Aye. Who else?"

"You're not angry anymore, then? You were very cold yesterday after we... I - I know I was wrong, Ominis! And I'm terrified at the idea of having ruined everything between us if you don't trust me anymore -"

Ominis burst out laughing heartily and kissed Anne with renewed ardour, interrupting her speech as the crowd around them continued to shout their approval, encouraged by Lucan's enthusiastic cheers.

"My love, it's all right. We had a fight, so what? You know how many times that will happen in our life together? It's inevitable, and it's the only way to grow together as a couple. I haven’t lost my trust in you, my silly, witty girl - it's not like you tricked me or something."

A slight blush coloured the cheeks of the Heir of Slytherin, clearly embarrassed by the attentions he was receiving from those present but determined to prove to everyone that the rumours about him not loving Anne Smith were false.

"You hurt me deeply whenever you are cold towards me, Ominis."

"And you hurt me deeply when you do dangerous shite without confronting me first, Anne."

"Ominis, I am mortified. I wish we could talk about this some more-"

"There is no need for that, Anne. Today you have proven to me with facts all I needed to know. You took responsibility for your actions, you wrote me a most beautiful letter, and now you faced your fears relaying only on yourself and you did wonderfully."

She put her mouth close to his ear and whispered in Parseltongue.

"My brother tried to cast on me the -"

"I know, my love. Nothing eludes me." He replied with an ice-cold hiss as his thin lips curved downwards. "You may rest assured that I will not let him get away with this. You know how disagreeable I can get when you are threatened."

Anne clutched at Ominis' chest to breathe in his scent again, letting go of the sense of inferiority and worthlessness that had gripped her in the previous days, and instead feeling happy and serene again at the idea of being protected by her lad.

The fair ginger was about to isolate herself in the bubble of love and affection that the sturdy body of the Heir of Slytherin was creating around her with his soothing presence, when a voice suddenly brought her back to the present moment ringing loud and clear a few steps away despite the clamour of the crowd.

"Samuel, I'm here!"

"Oh, you came. You seemed hesitant today when I asked if you'd like to come watch me duel."

Samuel Smith, had approached the throng. His tall, brawny physique loomed over that of a girl intent on staring shyly at the ground. When she looked up, Anne Smith saw the young witch dwell on the bare torso of her brother, where no wounds were visible anymore, only a veil of perspiration that seemed to emphasise his strong stomach and sculpted chest even more.

"Oh, no! Samuel, I was - I was delighted to be invited to see you duel. I am glad you - you asked me to come."

"I'm sorry to have given you such a pathetic show, I wish I could have dedicated my victory to you, Anne."

And the Troll Slayer saw her: Anne Sallow, shyly standing before Samuel Smith as she lowered her gaze, letting her fringes of chestnut hair cover her eyes.

"It - it was not a pathetic show, Samuel. Anne is a brilliant duellist."

"True, my sister is brilliant. But so am I. Do you plan to stay and watch a few more matches? I would like the opportunity to dedicate at least one of my victories to you, Anne."

In a flash, before sweet Anne Sallow could answer the question posed to her, the Keeper called out loudly.

"Anne?! We’re here! I'm tired of duelling, let's head back to our common room, shall we? Shall we play a game of Exploding Snap all together for once?" She said all in one breath. "Sebastian!" She then called out.

Sebastian was already walking towards them; he tossed the Slytherin robes of the lovely ginger to Ominis - who caught them on the fly as if he could see perfectly - then without a word he offered his arm to his sister, shooting a hostile glare at Samuel Smith, who stood quietly with his arms folded.

Anne Sallow hesitated, then took her brother's arm and allowed him to guide her towards the exit of Crossed Wands arena; before leaving, she turned to timidly wave goodbye to Samuel with her hand. The same hand then snapped to cover her mouth as a delicate giggle rose in her throat once the Hufflepuff boy waved back to her.

"Wake up, Anne! It's Saturday morning!"

Anne Sallow jumped out of bed, clapping her hands rapidly with excitement.

The other pythonesses began grunting in annoyance and rolling around in the sheets in the hope of falling back into slumber.

Anne Smith was the only one who had already been awake for several hours. She had remained silent, chasing her thoughts - tired dark eyes fixed on the cold stone ceiling of the dungeon, her old friend and confidante.

Something strange had happened the night before, difficult to ignore even if it seemed trivial: Anne Sallow, whom she now regarded as a blood sister, had gone to see her actual and most hated brother duel.

Samuel had bumped into her friend while he was walking through the halls of the castle; he had greeted her and invited her to come to Crossed Wands to get to know each other better.

And she had said yes.

When they had returned to the Slytherin common room the night before, the lovely ginger had been silent - completely wordless; the chance that Samuel was trying to impress her dear friend was so hard to process that it had momentarily emptied her mind of all thought.

It was Ominis who had asked Anne Sallow why she had gone to watch the duels alone that night. She had replied that Samuel's invitation had pleased her: since they would be spending a lot of time together studying, the idea of making friends and socialising with him seemed appropriate. She had then added that it was nothing special; she had expected to meet her brother and Anne Smith at the Clock Tower Entrance and had gone there as much to see them as to say hello to Samuel. At that point, Ominis had tried, with his usual gentleness, to begin a conversation so as to make it easier for his betrothed to open up to her friend and talk to her about her history with her brother. Sebastian, however - jealous and protective of his twin as never before due to the tragic events that had occurred the year prior - had interjected brusquely, uttering the typical rude remarks of a brother annoyed with a lad possibly showing an interest in his innocent sister. A heated argument had come close to erupting, averted only thanks to Ominis' ability to soothe tensions with his calm and collected demeanour.

When they had retired to their respective dormitories, Anne Sallow had insisted with the Troll Slayer that it meant nothing to befriend a boy and that Sebastian's unwarranted accusations had hurt her as she was not a frivolous girl who would let just anybody into her heart. Anne Smith had let it go, partly because she now knew who was the one that still made her friend's heart flutter with love, and she had no desire to create further tension.

Now she lay in bed pretending to have just woken up as said friend leaned over her to playfully shake her and urge her to get up.

"Sebastian says you have to train for the Quidditch game against Hufflepuff today!" Merrily chirped Anne Sallow.

"Precisely." Imelda frostily interjected, jerking up as if the word ‘Quidditch’ had jolted her awake. "We start training mid-morning. You better be on time, Troll Slayer."

"Maybe Ominis and I can come watch practice, what do you say? Let's catch up with the lads and talk it over a good breakfast!" Insisted Anne Sallow almost feeling short of breath from the effort of pushing the Keeper out of bed.

It was with laziness mixed with sulkiness that Anne Smith got ready to face the day, and once she was seated at the breakfast table in the Great Hall, her mood only worsened.

She was unenthusiastically munching on a sausage as she listened to Sebastian attempt to find neutral topics of conversation to share with his sister after the violent argument of the night before, when someone cleared their throat to her right. Out of the corner of her eye she caught yellow mixed with black in the colour scheme typical of Hufflepuff uniforms, and her rosy lips immediately distorted into a sneer of hatred as she turned sharply towards the newcomer.

"May I ask what you want from me?!" She asked aggressively, certain she was facing her brother.

But Samuel was not the one who had shyly approached the Slytherin table to speak to her, and the fair ginger found herself blinking a few times, astonished and vexed at the same time.

In front of her stood Poppy Sweeting.

The Hufflepuff girl was so short, her physique so delicate and feminine, that she looked the Troll Slayer straight in the eye despite the fact that she was standing up while the other young lady was sitting down on a bench.

"Perhaps it was a mistake to come and talk to you. After all, you never answered my letters this summer, I should have known you didn't want to talk to me." Poppy murmured sadly as she lowered her gaze taking a step back.

"I thought you were someone else." Clarified the Keeper as she lowered her gaze to the floor in turn.

"Ah, really?! You mean that - that we can talk for a moment? I - I would be very glad to do that, Anne."

"If you have something to say, just say it, Poppy."

"Here?! In the Great Hall? I thought I'd ask if you fancied a walk like in the old days! Maybe to Hogsmeade - we could -"

"Absolutely not. I have Quidditch practice this morning - I can't miss it and I still have to get ready for it."

Poppy nodded quickly - too quickly - as she lowered her head to let her short brown hair slide over her face as best she could and hide her hurt expression.

"My love? Why are you turning down your friend's proposal? You might not make it all the way to Hogsmeade before practice begins, but you certainly have enough time for a shorter stroll."

Ominis gently placed his hands on the back of his sweetheart to invite her to turn towards him. His blind blue eyes were loving as usual, but a veil of sadness glazed them as if he was aware of something that his lovely ginger entirely failed to notice.

"Anne, my love, why don't you try to make peace with your friend? I know how much you care for her - I know you have suffered every single time you have put her letters aside without even opening them this summer." He whispered in her ear, tenderly stroking her back to reassure her with his presence. "Put your pride aside, Anne."

"I can't, Ominis! What could she possibly have to say to me? I don't know why she insists on talking to me after what happened last year!"

"If you don't talk to her, you'll never find out, Anne."

She huffed and made a huge effort to reply without raising her voice as her heart bounced in her chest with sudden anger.

"I don't care! Do you actually remember what happened?"

"Of course I remember. I was there too, Anne. In the front row, one might say."

"Then how can you not understand why I can't forgive her!"

Ominis sighed deeply, almost exasperated. Then he gently rested his forehead against hers and his thin lips curved upwards.

"Think about what happened between us, my love. Sometimes it can happen to fall out. There may be trivial or serious motives - you may be able to make peace at once with someone or you may witness the end of a relationship , but -."

"Well, for me this relationship is over."

"No, Anne. That is where you are wrong. You don't have the insight to make that decision. You've never spoken to Poppy and you don't know the motives that drove her to do what she did."

There was a pause in which Ominis lowered his head as if seeking her lips to kiss her only to second guess himself at the last moment and embrace her instead. She let herself be cradled in his strong, comforting arms.

"Do it for me, my love. I know this situation is hurting you. Try to resolve it. For me, hmm?"

The lovely ginger listened to the velvety voice of the Heir of Slytherin vibrate in his chest and nodded weakly. She then turned to Poppy to find her intent on staring at Ominis with adoring eyes and a radiant smile plastered on her face. Anne was immediately seized by an inexplicable surge of jealousy, and her words sounded colder than she intended.

"Very well, Poppy. I'll walk with you."

"Oh, Anne! What joy! I am so very happy. Where are we going?"

"Lower Hogsfield, I suppose."

"Oh."

Disappointment mixed with insecurity immediately painted itself on Poppy's face as she assessed the situation.

Lower Hogsfield was such a small village that it could barely be considered a village at all. It consisted of three small houses and a tool shed shared between the families living there: there was nothing - absolutely nothing - to do there. It was the classic promenade the students would take when they needed to fill ten minutes of their time between classes and they felt like breathing some fresh air.

Or worse.

It could also have been considered the typical quiet, secluded place to meet someone without being noticed.

And since Anne Smith was now acting hostile towards Poppy, it could well have been the case that she didn't want to be seen around with her - that she was ashamed of her and of ever having been friends with her. After all, what on Earth did the fair Troll Slayer and the strange girl that everyone at Hogwarts avoided have to do with each other?

It was with that horrible thought stuck in her head that Poppy silently followed Anne as they walked through the halls of the castle to the Clock Tower Entrance and out into the open.

The Slytherin girl walked briskly, standing a few steps in front of her friend unaware of the fact that she was following her without being able to tear her eyes from her long ginger hair, which swayed with every step she took, creating soft waves of blazing tresses.

Poppy soon realised that all the time she had spent away from Anne had done nothing to make the intense feelings and unrequited burning desire she felt for her disappear.

Perhaps it was the Veela blood coursing through her veins, perhaps it was the unexpected sensitivity that the formidable witch had shown her on several occasions: whatever the reason, the Slytherin girl had forced herself into the heart of the Hufflepuff and she could no longer get her out no matter how hard she tried.

Poppy's thoughts had become so intrusive that she hardly noticed that they had meanwhile reached Lower Hogsfield. It was Anne's sharp voice that brought her back to the present moment.

"If you have something to say to me, just say it, Poppy. I haven't got all day." She told her coldly once she had reached the battered pier erected on the shore of the Black Lake.

"Well, I thought you might have something to tell me, actually. I wrote you many letters this summer but you never answered me."

"I never read your fucking letters, Poppy!" "I just cried over the envelopes without having the courage to open them." "What could you possibly have to say to me, eh? What you did is disgusting! For what concerns me, the matter is closed. It hurts me to think about it - it hurts me to think about you!"

Poppy jerked as if she had taken an arrow straight to the chest, her big dark eyes glazed with tears and fixed themselves in those of her beloved Anne as if she hoped she could make her feel what she felt for her without having to put it into words.

"Anne, I - I don't want you to suffer thinking about me."

"Poppy! You spied on me while - while I was making love to Ominis! And you went and reported it to the bloody Deputy Headmistress in the hope of getting me into trouble! What the fuck do we have to say to each other, pray tell? Is this how a friend should behave?"

"Anne, oh no! Please let me tell you -"

Anne shook her head as the darkest fury took over her making her voice rise and her legs tremble - months and months of pent-up rage directed at her friend were about to come crashing down on the poor thing like a waterfall.

"No, I'll tell you how a real friend would have behaved! A friend would have left without a second thought! Even assuming you accidentally stumbled upon us - something I'm not so sure about anymore, by the way - you should have just left, Poppy! Instead you watched - you intruded on my intimacy with Ominis! We were naked and - and entwined, for fuck's sake - what reason could you have had to stay and watch?" Anne ranted, stomping her feet violently on the rotten wood of the pier. "And then, not content, you went and reported it all to the faculty!"

"Anne, people act foolish when there are feelings involved! I was wrong but -"

"Feelings? Feelings?! What the fuck are you talking about?" The perfect lips of the Slytherin girl distorted into a grimace of disgust as a bitter, pained laughter bubbled up her throat. "Of course! How could I not have realised this before? You're in love with Ominis, are you not? You were spying on him, and then you tried to get us into trouble to tear us apart."

"No! Anne, no! I -"

"It makes sense, though. You never wanted me to talk to you about him - you were always weird and elusive. I saw how you smiled at him this morning."

"No! Anne -"

"Well, well, well! What have we here? Lower your voices, doves: if you have come here to be discreet, I assure you that you are failing miserably."

An obnoxious, shrill voice reached the ears of the young ladies on the pier, and their heads turned sharply to their right.

A short distance from them, standing at the edge of the lake, was Grace Pinch-Smedley, staring at them with an amused and cruel expression. She was not wearing her uniform, but a pretty summer dress of pure white cotton that hugged her slim body perfectly.

"For a moment I wondered what the Troll Slayer was doing here with the pathetic animal lover. But I'd say it's clear now. Interesting conversation you're having." Grace insisted without moving a step.

Poppy covered her face as if trying to hide the embarrassment and the tears that marked her cheeks. Then she took a step back as if tempted to run away.

"And what are you doing here yourself, Grace? Judging by the way you're dressed, it would seem you're waiting for someone. A bloke, perhaps? Meeting you here because he's ashamed to be seen out and about with you, perhaps?"

At Anne's words, Poppy raised her head, looking at her with a powerful mixture of admiration and adoration - which would have been unmistakable had the Keeper not been completely focused on Grace.

The face of the loathsome pythoness had become a mask of outraged indignation at that insinuation, and it only confirmed Anne's words.

"I certainly don't have to explain myself to you!" Spat Grace with rancour, moving a step forward.

"Fuck off, Grace." Anne snarled, turning without adding anything else and starting to walk briskly on the stony shore of the lake in the opposite direction to where her housemate was standing.

Poppy trailed behind her, finding herself trotting to keep up as a light summer breeze messed up her bob of brown hair.

"Anne, I feel absolutely nothing for Ominis. I can assure you of that." Gasped the Hufflepuff girl in a desperate attempt to resume the conversation.

"Sorry, but you're not really in a position to assure me of anything. At this point, I don't believe you anymore."

"Anne, you can be truly blind at times! You don't notice things going on around you! There are indeed girls who are attracted to Ominis - I know for a fact that one in particular is very determined not to give up on him even in the face of the ring you’re wearing! But not me, Anne - not me! If only you would stop and look at me, you would understand! You would understand what, or rather who, is I hold dear in my heart!"

Anne was walking with her hands in her pockets and her gaze pointed downwards - sad dark eyes fixed on the multitude of stones beneath her feet as if they could replace the reassuring ceiling of the dungeon. At those words she looked up sharply, ready to turn to Poppy and address her sardonically.

"Ah, I need only look at you? Well then! Let's see if -"

The words died in her throat and she did not turn towards the Hufflepuff girl, instead standing in the middle of the beach as if she had been petrified.

Poppy came up beside her, and when she saw where the Keeper's eyes had landed, she began to break into a cold sweat.

She immediately recognised the place where they had ended up trying to get away from Grace. She recognised the boulders scattered in front of a small indentation in the rock face overlooking the lake beach. She recognised the exact spot where she had accidentally caught Anne making love to Ominis without being able to tear her eyes away from them in a fit of jealousy and envy.

She felt her breath catch, and when she turned to the Slytherin girl beside her, she realised that she too was no longer breathing. She could imagine her embarrassment and anger, but what she could not imagine was the blackest grief and the deepest sorrow she was feeling.

For in that same place, something horrifying had happened to Anne Smith.

That was the cursed place where Marvolo Gaunt had tried to rape her in front of his brothers and Sebastian. It was the cursed place where the Slytherin monster had stripped her of her dignity.

There Marvolo had come dangerously close to fulfilling his sick dream of forcing himself upon the betrothed of his crippled brother.

And she had no intention of staying there a second longer.

"We've talked enough." Anne croaked, unable to hold back her tears. "I don't even know why I'm here! There is no point in talking to you." The pythoness continued, biting and spitting venom to hide her own distress and vulnerability. "I'm leaving. I have to show up at the Quidditch pitch soon, and I have to put on my uniform first. Have a nice day, Sweeting."

Poppy stood on the shore of the Black Lake as she watched Anne run away from her.

Her cheeks were once again wet with tears, her soft lips were distorted into a grimace of pain as deep as it was sincere.

"If you stopped to look at me, you would understand. You would understand that it is you I have fallen in love with, Anne Smith." She murmured into the wind, feeling lonely and stupid.

A moment later she was on her knees, cursing Merlin for making her different, wrong even. Everything would have been easier if she had been attracted to lads - socialising, fitting in, finding love, everything!

Instead, her heart yearned for something different. Her heart had given itself completely to a creature as magnificent as she was unreachable. A witch who would never reciprocate her feelings, ever.

Yet Poppy continued to delude herself, to hope, to suffer masochistically. For after all, even if she had never met Anne Smith, her situation would not have changed.

They could have been called Anne, or Bertha, or Clara, or maybe Edith, but whatever their name, young ladies would never have wanted her the way she wanted them. Because she was weird - a living paradox - and nobody could understand her.

She would never know what it felt to love and be loved in return.

Right?

Chapter Text

The fated day when Anne Smith would finally make her debut as keeper for the Slytherin Quidditch team had finally arrived.

The silver and emerald snakes would face off against the yellow and black badgers on that very Sunday of early autumn, and to say that the match was eagerly awaited by the entire castle would be an understatement. Over the course of a month, there had been wild anticipation for the game that would see Slytherin and Hufflepuff go head to head, partly because it was the first Quidditch match played on Hogwarts' pitch since Headmaster Black had suspended all competitive sports the previous year, and partly because everyone was eager to see the reckless spectacle that the Troll Slayer would surely offer on her broom. Add to that the fact that Anne Smith would be facing her brother - the charming model student who had recently returned from cold, austere Durmstrang - and it was no wonder that several professors had joined in the pre-match betting organised by the older students.

The pale sun of early morning shone upon the leaves of the trees, which were already beginning to change colour in anticipation of the distant winter, and a light autumn breeze made the air crisp—the ideal climate for clearing the mind and invigorating the body with a walk in nature.

And that was precisely why Anne had left the castle walls at dawn with the intention of taking a short stroll to Lower Hogsfield in order to breathe in some of that fresh, crisp air and let it ruffle her hair, sweeping every thought from her mind. She had decided to wear a scarf even though the temperature was still relatively mild and pleasant, to the point that keeping up a brisk pace was making her perspire slightly at the back of her neck. Despite this, she had no intention of slowing down, as she would soon have to return to the castle to change into her Quidditch uniform before reporting to the field with the rest of the Slytherin team.

"This was just what I needed to relieve some tension. It's a beautiful day, isn't it? Perfect for flying." She murmured, gently squeezing Ominis' hand as he walked silently at her side.

He reciprocated the gesture as a smile lit up his face—long fingers languidly intertwined with the delicate ones of his betrothed in a romantic gesture as he let her guide him along the path without relying on his chestnut stalk.

"It's a wonderful day. It's just a shame we don't have time to go much further than Lower Hogsfield. It would have been nice to take Sunday for ourselves and get away from the castle for a picnic far away from everything and everyone."

"We'll have plenty of other Sundays to do that, my love. Today, the audience is clamouring for me."

"Are you nervous?"

She gave an amused laugh and brought her left hand to her ear to tuck away a stray strand of ginger hair that the autumn breeze had freed from her long plait.

"Not particularly. Having felt the chill of the Dementors on my skin, it takes a lot more than a Quidditch game to make me nervous."

"True. But as athletic and braggart as you are -"

"Braggart? Me?! Oh, give me a break."

An amused and loving sparkle lit up Ominis' blind blue eyes as he continued to speak, taking the indignant reaction of his sweetheart as an incentive to tease her rather than a deterrent.

"As athletic and braggart as you are, sometimes crowds make you nervous. That's why I wanted to make sure you were comfortable. I know you well enough, my sweet love."

Anne snorted and wrinkled her nose with an air that might have seemed annoyed, but was really nothing more than an attempt to hide the frivolous glee she felt every time the Heir of Slytherin showered her with his gallant attentions - frivolous glee that remained as intense each and every time as if it were the first day of their courtship.

"I'm fine, I promise." She said, stopping along the path to stand on tiptoe and give him a tender kiss on the cheek. "I wanted to take a stroll to ease the tension before the game, but not because I'm worried. I'm just... charged with energy and anticipation, so to speak!" She giggled, gently pulling Ominis by the hand to let him know she meant to start walking along the path again as she continued talking. "The crowd doesn't make me nervous. I'll just pretend it doesn't exist - I'll pretend there's only you in the stands cheering me on!"

"That's right. You'll pretend I'm in the stands."

"What do you mean? Are you still going on about how you don't like Quidditch?! I know it'll end up like Crossed Wands: after years of proudly declaring that you've never set foot on the pitch, you'll turn up, nervous and excited, to witness the exploits of your most beautiful, most charming, most brilliant -"

"Most modest."

"- incomparable fiancée!"

Anne spun around towards Ominis with feigned outrage painted on her features, and she placed her hands on his chest, gently clutching his Slytherin robes to pull him towards her as the damp wood of the lake pier they had reached creaked softly beneath her ankle boots.

"You insolent git! You had better promise to be in the front row of those bloody stands, Gaunt!"

"Mmh? Oh, really? What are you going to do otherwise, Smith?"

"I - I'll turn you into a teapot and enjoy my five o'clock tea, warm and cosy, after Slytherin's dazzling victory over Hufflepuff!"

At Anne's words, Ominis threw his head back and laughed heartily. His usual loving, intelligent smile curved his thin lips upwards as he indulged in sincere hilarity, but his posture seemed oddly rigid, almost as if something was making him uncomfortable.

"Mmh, then I'll make sure the tea is nice and hot and to your liking, my sweet love." Murmured the Heir of Slytherin, ducking his head to capture the clever mouth of his betrothed in a kiss without giving her time to retort any further.

She smiled against his hungry lips and tried to wriggle out of his embrace, laughing and blushing; her efforts were in vain, she barely managed to break free only to find herself pressed against Ominis' chest again a moment later - sinuous feminine curves and solid muscles joined together in an embrace that made Anne's blush intensify considerably.

"Come on, don't tease me! You know how much I care about it." She managed to say between breathless laughs, without stopping to weakly wriggle out of the playful and possessive grip of the Heir of Slytherin.

"And you know how tedious it is for me to attend a sporting event, considering that all I can do in the stands is listen to the announcements over the megaphone."

"Oh, come on, Ominis! Do it for me! Are you telling me that not even knowing I’m on the pitch can make Quidditch more interesting for you?"

"NO, NO, AND YET AGAIN NO!"

A shrill, hysterical voice rang out from the shore of Black Lake to their right, reaching Anne and Ominis' ears. They jumped and instinctively turned towards the source of the ruckus.

A few metres away from the happy Slytherin couple, standing on the wooden pier that ran along the small beach overlooking the village of Lower Hogsfield, were Grace Pinch-Smedley and Samuel Smith.

The girl looked distraught and had lost all composure. She was stamping her feet hysterically on the pier while shaking her head frantically in a very vehement gesture of denial. Her soft sandy-blonde hair was gathered into an elaborate chignon that left her short fringe loose, and around her neck was tied a yellow and black scarf with the Hufflepuff crest embroidered on each side.

"Calm down, Grace. You're making a scene that is nothing short of pathetic." Samuel admonished her, fixing his intense dark eyes on her and looking at her with contempt.

"Pathetic? Pathetic?! I guess that's all I am to you! After all, I should have known. You've been ashamed of me from the start: we've always met in places like this - isolated, discreet, suitable for company one is not proud of to be associated with!" Grace snorted, then sniffed and finally began to shake with sobs she could no longer hold back. "What kind of courtship is this! I am a pureblood of high lineage - I deserve better. Much better."

"Perhaps you are not getting the point. I never courted you by choice. Your parents proposed an arrangement to my father—as did many other pureblood families when word spread of his intention to select a wife for me soon."

"My lineage is prestigious, Samuel! Pure and legitimate! As pure as my virginity. I would be a good wife for you - I was raised for this role! Your father accepted the arrangement, but you apparently consider me unworthy."

Samuel, unmoved by the tears of the young lady, stretched his attractive lips into a mocking smile.

"My father did not accept the arrangement. We agreed to give you a chance, which is different. Your lineage is worthless compared to mine and those of the other families who proposed deals. The only reason my father agreed to a courtship is because we are very close in age compared to the young ladies of House Abbott and House Diggory, who finished their studies here at Hogwarts years ago. If I had got on well with you, it would have been a happier union -"

Outrage and hysterical anger were painted on Grace's face despite the tears that continued to stream down her cheeks as her thin body shook with violent tremors that even her rustling Slytherin robes could not hide.

"Are you implying that you don't like me?!"

"I tried to court you at my father's request, Grace. Nothing more. And there's no point in making a scene, I know you were aware of the agreement. I really tried to court you, but within a month, every time we met, you did nothing but make me lose all interest in you."

"You didn't try! Not really! You always kept me hidden, you never showed me in public!"

Now visibly exasperated, Samuel ran both hands through his soft ginger hair, not caring that he was ruining his sleek hairstyle.

"Aye, that's right. I wasn't willing to expose myself for a courtship imposed on me by my father."

"Expose yourself to whose eyes, Samuel? Those of exotic Onai? Or those of frigid Dale?" Grace spat, lowering her tear-filled hazel eyes to the damp wood of the pier as she began stamping her feet again as if trying to crush imaginary cockroaches. "Don't tell me it's Sallow - pathetic, poor Sallow! - that you want to impress! I've seen how she watches you duel. She shows up at Crossed Wands every day and -"

"Nonsense!" Replied the handsome Hufflepuff harshly, interrupting the girl and taking a threatening step towards her. "Her brother is a member of the club. So is my sister, with whom she is close. If Anne comes along to see them duel, there's nothing stopping her from cheering me on too since we study together every week, but that's as far as it goes." Samuel growled, wrinkling his nose in disdain as an emotion that dangerously resembled sincere disgust distorted his handsome countenance. "It's none of your business anyway. Even if there were a witch who caught my eye, it's none of your concern since we're not together and we won't be seeing each other anymore."

"That's not fair! I would be a good wife - I would be perfect for you, Samuel! And you would be perfect for me!"

The heir to the House of Smith shrugged his shoulders as if to indicate that he was no longer willing to continue the conversation. He turned his back on the desperate witch and began walking briskly towards the castle, turning only to rebuke her one last time with mocking words.

"If I were you, I'd take off that scarf before showing up on the stands at the Quidditch pitch today. Slytherins have a reputation for not tolerating members of their own House who cheer for the other side. Not to mention the fact that without a valid reason for wearing my colours, you'd look pathetic."

At those words, Grace angrily removed her scarf and threw it into the waters of the Black Lake before leaning over the pier and screaming at the top of her lungs. Tears streamed down her face, falling drop by drop from her chin, and her full lips were twisted into a grimace that was both outraged and hurt as she opened them wide to continue screaming her indignation into the wind.

"Um, I'd say we should get away from here and continue our walk past Lower Hogsfield before the screams of this harpy make me deaf." Ominis whispered in Anne's ear, still tightly wrapped in his arms.

"Definitely."

"What do you think you're doing, my love?!"

A soft, melodious giggle broke the perfect silence that cloaked the autumn grove; two yellowed leaves fell from a branch and settled almost lazily in Ominis' hair, who was too focused on Anne's shirt buttons to brush them off.

With her back against a tree trunk and her face hidden in the crook of his neck, the lovely ginger continued to laugh, more amused than annoyed despite the efforts her delicate white hands were making to weakly push the Heir of Slytherin away from her body.

"I'll give you points for ambition, Gaunt. But keep your hands to yourself!"

"Why on Earth would I keep my hands for myself, love? Are you uncomfortable? Is it because we're outdoors? We're completely alone, and I've cast a Disillusionment Charm all around us, if it's 'voyeurs' you're worried about."

"What? When?!"

Anne looked straight at Ominis’ face with surprise painted on her features, and he shook his head to finally free his soft blond hair from the leaves, letting them fall gently to the ground as a playful smile lit up his face.

"While you were distracted gawking at the squirrel." He murmured seductively without moving away from her, but temporarily halting his assault to make sure she was indeed in the mood to welcome his passionate snogging.

"Oh! Very smooth, Gaunt! Anyway, the woods are not the problem -"

"Mmh? Then what's wrong? It's quiet here - peaceful. And the autumn breeze is giving you goose bumps on your neck... You know I find you quite irresistible when you're all shivering like this."

"T-there's no time! I have to report to the Quidditch pitch for pre-match warm-up soon!"

He tilted his head slightly to one side, looking thoughtful, like a child trying in vain to come up with excuses to stay up past their bedtime while their parents insist on putting them to bed. Anne smiled despite herself, finding him incredibly cute in his determination to seduce her. Her sweet dark eyes fluttered shut as if looking at his face might weaken her resolve not to be charmed.

"What if I promise to be quick?"

"O-ominis! The last time we got carried away in an – an unorthodox situation, I felt discomfort and a most annoying burning sensation in my lady parts for days afterwards!" "Merlin, how good you made me feel in the moment, though!"

"Mmh, I'm really sorry to hear that. You could have told me instead of playing 'hard to get' for a whole month. I thought you were toying with me, you sent me to bed madly lovelorn for weeks." He whispered in her ear with a genuinely contrite expression written all over his face before rubbing his nose against hers in a loving and reassuring gesture. "Are you well now?"

Anne bit her lip to prevent her rosy mouth from stretching into a mischievous smile that would have given way to equally mischievous giggles.

"Yes, of course. I have been for days now. I admit I have been playing with you a little lately."

"Naughty girl." Hissed the Heir of Slytherin against the white throat of his betrothed, pushing her against the bark of the tree behind her with his body while his right hand resumed working on the buttons of her white shirt with a tremor of anticipation. "You enjoy making me mad with want, Smith? Let me return the favour, love."

"I'll let you, Gaunt. Later, though. After the celebrations for Slytherin's victory, all right?"

"Are you that confident you'll win?"

Ominis rested his left forearm against the tree trunk just above Anne's head - a happy, playful smile lighting up his face as he tilted his own head to one side without ceasing to press his strong, taut body against her soft, inviting curves.

"Absolutely!"

"All right then: we'll celebrate in our own way later. Can I—can I just give you one last kiss before we go back to the castle?"

"I'd rather keep promenading and look out for squirrels, but if you just can't help yourself..."

And once again, his lips were on hers. Once again, his hands were on her breasts.

The white shirt of the fair ginger revealed the ivory corset she wore underneath - small black buttons came undone without resisting the expert touch of long fingers accustomed to exploring the world without the aid of sight.

Gently, a blond head bent down until it found the generous feminine neckline exposed to the autumn breeze.

Kisses as light as a feather on white, rose-scented skin, and then the equally tentative touch of a tongue searching for a drop of perspiration.

A head of ginger hair braced heavily against rough bark, seeking support to bear the weight of both pleasure and love.

Then velvety words that sent goose bumps across the soft breasts against which they reverberated.

"I love you, Anne Smith."

Anne closed her eyes, forgetting the upcoming Quidditch match and the entire Wizarding World for a moment. The silence of the forest and the warmth emanating from Ominis' body created a bubble for her to nestle into and linger in the blissful contentment that life sometimes grants for a few moments. Her lips parted slowly, without haste, as words of love rose up her white throat to respond to those of her sweet companion.

But it was another voice that echoed in the air.

Harsh, authoritative and vaguely familiar to the Keeper's ears.

"Hold on, lads! I can smell her. She must be close."

With cat-like speed, Ominis stood up to his full height and spun around to shield Anne's body, reaching his right hand behind his back to rest it on her hip while drawing his loyal wand with his left.

At that moment, six men emerged from the trees surrounding the Slytherin couple: they were a few metres apart and moved slowly, as if trying to outflank the young snakes and attack them from all sides without being able to see them clearly.

The man at the centre of the half-circle that was inexorably closing in around Anne and Ominis spoke again, pointing his wand straight ahead.

"Finite Incantatem."

He uttered the spell with the calmness of someone who knows exactly what he is doing, and a moment later, his cruel black eyes met those of the lovely ginger hidden behind her blond knight.

The young lady gasped in surprise and fear. The man gritted his teeth in anger and impatience.

"What did I tell you, lads? My nose never lies. And this bitch in heat thought she could hide her whorish scent behind a Disillusionment Charm. Phua!"

Silvanus Selwyn spat on the ground, halting his advance; with an irritated gesture of his right hand, he wrapped himself in his black cloak, proudly displaying the colours and crest of Victor Rookwood's Ashwinders. The lines of his face were familiar to Anne: they were rough and ugly, made even more unpleasant by the neglect and emaciation typical of those who live a criminal life - a glaringly large nose in the middle of hollow, freshly shaven cheeks. Yet there was something different about him, something the Slytherin girl couldn't quite put her finger on.

There was something strange about the way his small, hateful mouth moved.

Expressions verging on animalistic rippled his thin lips, making them look like those of a canine sniffing the air and baring its teeth to show hostility.

There was something odd about his posture too: he seemed to be in excruciating pain but at the same time confident in his physical strength and not at all intimidated by the idea of confronting the Fearless.

Just as Anne was wondering what she was missing, what had happened to the Ashwinders' lieutenant after their last encounter many months prior, the answers came to her.

"Can you smell it, lads? The scent of wet cunt?" Barked Silvanus, with lust and desire tinging his voice.

Almost simultaneously, the five men standing in a circle around their leader let out a guttural growl that sounded awfully like a howl as they sniffed the air the way a pack of wolves would.

And indeed, that was exactly what they were.

"Werewolves!" Anne realised with horror as Ominis' strong shoulders tensed in front of her in a way that silently communicated that he too had just come to the same conclusion.

"She's ready. She needs a real man taking care of her." Mumbled a young man who looked barely twenty.

"Well, haven't you heard the news, Peter? Young Ominis has become a man - he's become a proper Lord." Mocked a third man covered in scars that suggested he was the oldest in terms of years he had been a werewolf.

"He's become a man, aye. But is he fucking her right? A cunt that fine must be worked until she writhes."

"Fuck, you didn't tell us she was this gorgeous, Silvanus."

"That's enough, Ashwinders! We must keep our cocks in our breeches, lads." Silvanus barked as if it was costing him a great effort to say those words. "Harlow doesn't care what we do with her as long as we get the job done. But our financier has been very clear about this: look but don't touch."

"Bah, he'll be our financier when he actually pays up! For now, it's just a promise of payment, and when Harlow gets out of Azkaban, we won't even need that money anymore!"

"But until then, we'll honour the agreement. We won't touch her."

Silvanus began to advance slowly, staring into Anne's dark, terrified eyes as she desperately tried to button up her shirt - the tremor that shook her hands slowing her down considerably.

"But we can look. And luckily for us, lads, this bewitching cunt had already started to undress."

As if suddenly awakening from a stupor, Ominis, who until then had remained frozen in front of Anne to shield her dishevelled body from the lustful gaze of the Ashwinders, sprang forward with agility to pounce savagely on the Dark Wizards.

Blinded by rage, the Heir of Slytherin had acted without thinking – a rare occurrence given his composed and calculating nature. Before he could regain his wits and cast a spell, his charging attack was interrupted by a barrage of stunning spells cast at him by the pack of werewolves.

"Ominis!" Anne cried in horror, letting go of her unbuttoned shirt to pull out her wand.

"Protego!"

A sphere of white light wrapped Ominis in a protective charm that shielded him from the assault of his enemies - an assault so tight and precise that it left the boy no choice but to grit his teeth and hold his protection spell, waiting in vain for an opportunity to fight back. His concentration wavered dangerously when a rogue stunning spell whizzed past him, hitting Anne in the left knee. His shield of light seemed on the verge of breaking as Ominis turned - pure terror etched on his face - towards the spot where he had heard her cry of pain.

But before their attackers could take advantage of the lucky strike they had landed, the Keeper - crouched on the ground, leaning on her good knee while her injured leg stretched helplessly across the earth - pointed Salazar Slytherin's wand straight ahead with her right hand. Time seemed to slow down as the fair ginger closed her eyes and raised her left hand towards the sky - fingers curled and taut like claws, palm facing upwards like an orchestra conductor guiding the performers. Following the young witch's movements like a cobra swaying before of an enchanting flute, a shrub with black, thick, thorny branches emerged from the ground and grew to form a wall that separated Ominis from the men standing in front of him.

The werewolves yelped and shouted obscenities in astonishment at such powerful magic, and Ominis was able to understand what was happening around him without seeing the spectacle with his own eyes. Ancient Magic flowed from the ebony spiral with terrifying power - tiny blue sparks and mysterious whispers veiled in sadness swirled around the Heir of Slytherin with lightning speed to fuel the frightening growth of the wall of thorns that was rising in front of him, and at that moment he was truly grateful for the hours his betrothed had spent in the dreadful 'family' Scriptorium in the weeks prior.

Guiding her magic with her thoughts, the Keeper created an impenetrable wall of vegetation by channelling her power into the Basilisk horn at the core of her wand - the only limit being her imagination. Without opening her eyes, she raised her eyebrows, and a moment later, screams and cracks like those of a vine used as a whip were heard from the other side of the wall of thorns.

There were sounds of a struggle, then the Ashwinders realised they had been overpowered and quickly disappareted away.

"Anne! My love, are you all right?!"

Ominis threw himself to the ground beside Anne, groping for her; she called to him in a reassuring voice and he pulled her close as soon as his hands found her. His right hand caressed her long plait of ginger hair, brushing the enchanted rose at the centre of her hairstyle before settling between her shoulder blades to support her back as he lifted her up in his arms.

"Well, luckily Salazar Slytherin is an excellent Transfiguration teacher." Anne muttered sarcastically, pointing the wand of the patriarch of her future family at the wall of thorns she had erected a moment earlier.

With extreme slowness compared to the speed with which the gigantic plant had sprung from the ground, the black branches of the magical shrub began to untangle and retreat as if the soil were sucking them back in.

"And thank goodness I let myself be persuaded to let you tap into his knowledge." Ominis mumbled in reply, slowly walking in the direction that the chestnut stalk was pointing him – Anne safe in his arms.

"Silvanus Selwyn. Fucking Silvanus Selwyn! My worst nightmare has come true: Harlow has people loyal to him outside Azkaban."

"They only cast stunning spells at us. He wants you alive."

"To torture me and extract information, most likely. Rookwood knew everything about the Repository, and Harlow was his second in command. They want access to the Map Chamber!"

Ominis slowed his pace as he felt Anne cling tightly to him and hide her face in the crook of his neck. Pure anger flashed in the blind blue eyes of the Heir of Slytherin as the taunts and threats spat out by the Dark Wizards they had just faced echoed in his head.

"Filthy animals."

"Precisely: they were werewolves. Harlow fears me, there’s no doubt about that. He’s assembling some sort of 'elite force' to hunt me down."

"I’ll speak to my father. The Gaunts don’t associate with criminals, but if there’s been any suspicious activity in certain circles, he’ll know about it. Right now, we have nothing but assumptions to guide us."

"Yes. And assumptions won’t get us very far..."

Anne raised her head and caressed Ominis’ face with a trembling hand, grateful to be held in his arms and also grateful that he couldn’t see the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Despite his comforting embrace, her breathing was laboured and her heartbeat too rapid, as if she were about to have a panic attack.

"They also mentioned a financier. Who knows who is supporting them."

"I have no idea, my love."

"I'll investigate this financier too. Between Father and Headmaster Black there's a good chance someone knows something."

Ominis resumed walking slowly - thin lips turned downwards and blond eyebrows furrowed.

"Don't worry, my love." Anne whispered, caressing his face again in the hope of helping him relax his handsome features. "There's nothing we can do until we find out more about this awful predicament. After all, we know mine is a dangerous life. As long as we can get away with a rogue stunning spell, everything's fine." She leaned towards his face, supporting herself with her hands on his strong shoulders to tenderly kiss his cheek. "Now smile, Gaunt! It will be easier for me to put this horrible encounter behind me and focus on the game if I know you’re happy."

"The game? Anne, my love, are you sure you feel up to playing? It doesn’t seem like the right thing to do."

"That’s exactly what I intend to do. Until we know how to navigate this and who exactly we're up against, we'll stay alert, but we won't stop living our lives—that's just another way of letting my enemies win. We won't give them the satisfaction of living in fear!" The Slytherin girl paused staring straight ahead, then she tilted her head to one side looking uncertain. "We'll avoid strolling in secluded places for a while, that much I'll concede."

Ominis hummed his approval, angling his head towards Anne's to better receive her kisses as he retraced the path that would lead them to the castle.

Bright colours.

A myriad of bright colours, predominantly shades of yellow and green, stretched out before Anne's eyes.

Silver scarves and flags alternated with black ones, marking the spaces occupied by the many supporters seated in the stands of the Quidditch pitch. Uniforms, banners and even costumes blended together to form a heterogeneous patchwork of colours where nothing was distinguishable.

Anne had almost immediately given up looking for friendly faces among the crowd; she rode along the stands on her Ember Dash with her arms crossed and the sulky countenance of someone who would rather be at the gallows than on a sports field - obsessive thoughts of the awful encounter that had occurred a few hours earlier crowded her mind despite her efforts to focus on the present moment. The wind made her long plait of fire-red hair dance in the air like a weather vane, and behind her broom, a trail of crackling sparks of the same colour lingered in the ether for a few moments after her passage before fading away.

In the stands to her right, where most of the Slytherin supporters were gathered, stood a gargantuan enchanted banner that was undoubtedly Imelda's doing.

A ginger-haired mermaid-like creature waved her fish tail and winked as she spun a Quaffle on the index finger of her right hand while standing in front of the hoops of a Quidditch pitch. Against a silver background, the words ‘disgustingly lovely keeper’ glowed in bright acid green.

Exasperated dark eyes rolled dramatically as Anne paraded past the garish banner held up by her housemates; a roar of cheers immediately rose as she passed, and once again the young witch rolled her eyes.

"Lads, it’s vital to warm up the crowd before kick-off. Vital!" Imelda had said during her last pre-match pep talk with the seriousness typical of someone who holds the role of captain in a team. "A fiery crowd gives more confidence and a stronger drive to those on the pitch. So show off, lads! Get them fired up! ...Obviously, this goes for everyone, but especially for you." She had added, turning to Anne and wrinkling her nose as if she were smelling something supremely stinky. "You are the Troll Slayer — our bloody Slytherin wonder. Be a show-off and get the crowd fired up, for fuck's sake."

Partly because it was her very first Quidditch match, partly because she had other things on her mind, the lovely ginger wasn't really in the mood for showing off. The most she could manage to break the ice and humour Imelda was to parade around very close to the stands, waving occasionally when some particularly enthusiastic admirer shouted her name so loudly that it couldn't be ignored.

"Merlin, I'm stiffer than my broomstick. I have to calm down or this will be a disaster! I mean, was it too much to ask to enjoy my life serenely for once?" Anne pondered, leaning her torso slightly to one side to make her broom follow the curve of the stadium without using her arms—still stubbornly crossed. "Come on, at least smile. That way Imelda will be satisfied." She told herself, raising her right hand to wave at the cheering crowd while her frown deepened.

As if she had summoned her with her thoughts, Imelda whizzed right over her head alongside Violet: the two were hurling a Bludger back and forth at each other with impressive speed in a display of precision and control that elicited thunderous applause from the Slytherin stands.

Almost simultaneously, another roar of awe rose from the opposite side of the stadium, and Anne turned just in time to see Sebastian swoop down to gain speed and then stabilise his flight, clinging to his broomstick with nothing but his arms while swinging his legs up in the air to click the heels of his leather boots together in a display of strength and skill before returning to sit astride his broom. The female audience immediately became vocal—hysterical screams and frenzied applause accompanied a profusion of requests for attention from this or that girl thundered in the air.

"Fuckwit." Thought the Troll Slayer, bringing her left hand to her forehead as her rosy lips stretched into an affectionate smile.

Then, suddenly, something else caught her attention.

In the stands reserved for Hufflepuff supporters, amid a dense cloud of bright yellow clothing, a hint of green shyly stood out, drawing the attention of the entire stadium.

Within that bustle of screaming spectators, Anne hadn't been able to spot anyone in particular: not Natty's exotic features, nor Amit's greasy black hair or Garreth's leonine mane of ginger locks. No matter how hard she tried to find him, she couldn't even spot Ominis - whom she would have been able to recognise anywhere and in whatever circumstances!

Yet that tiny green dot in the middle of that yellow spread attracted attention so conspicuously that the Slytherin keeper immediately and effortlessly recognised the person in question.

"I-idiot! Stupid idiot! What is wrong with her?!" She thought with horror as a soft, gentle voice struggled to rise above the clamour of the crowd and reach her ears.

Surrounded by her housemates and seemingly indifferent to their grimaces of disgust and hatred, Poppy waved her arms to get Anne's attention. She was dressed head to toe in green and silver and wore the typical accessories of a Slytherin supporter, while a genuine, hopeful smile curved her soft lips upwards.

Because Poppy, little badger that she was, remained loyal to Anne despite everything that had occurred and was bound to her with all her heart.

Perhaps, in addition to loyalty and hope, there was also a good dose of stubbornness in her, but whatever the truth was, the fact remained that Poppy was openly and courageously defying everyone around her. And, inevitably, Anne felt a twinge in her heart when she saw her friend being mocked by hateful laughter, pitied by disgusted looks, and above all threatened by cruel whispers uttered by people who seemed intent on playing a nasty jape on the sad misfit.

The fair ginger could not and would not tolerate that.

Of course, things between her and her friend were tense - to say the least - and she had no intention of forgiving her anytime soon. In a way, one could say that Anne was behaving just as cruelly towards Poppy.

But she had her reasons. She was the only one justified in taking it out on that badger - that stubborn little badger.

Everyone else, well, they'd better just fuck off.

"Hey, Poppy! Are you alright? Is there a problem?" Anne called out, halting her broom so she could float very close to the stands.

At once, a stunned silence fell around Poppy, who brightened up and smiled even more broadly as she pulled up her sleeves, threw her puny arms in the air and waved them around wildly, jumping up and down on the spot.

"Anne! Anne!"

"Is everything alright?" The Troll Slayer insisted, casting the coldest, most hostile glances she could muster at the Hufflepuffs surrounding her friend.

"Oh, sure! I'm cheering for you, Anne!"

"I can see that."

Poppy's short brown hair was tousled by the wind, her smile increasingly incredulous and pronounced.

"You must win this, Anne!" She exclaimed, drawing annoyed and disappointed looks from her housemates.

"I will." Anne replied fiercely as her cold, dark eyes met those of the audience, freezing the blood in their veins. "Come to the Slytherin stands exit when the game ends, aye? There will be no one there to stand against us, you will be among friends."

Poppy squealed with delight. Her housemates looked away, catching the veiled threats implied in the Troll Slayer's words.

"See you later, then. Let's hope no one bothers you during the game. It would be a shame if someone were to fly off the stands." Anne concluded nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders and floating backwards until she was far enough from the stands to turn her broom and head towards the centre of the pitch, where Madam Kogawa was already inviting the players from both teams to gather around her for final instructions before the kick-off.

Everything was ready for the match to begin, and as the crowd in the stands began to roar and raise chants to the sky, Anne flew towards the Slytherin hoops with a lump in her throat. Finally, performance anxiety had taken hold of her, and for a moment she feared she would not be able to calm her heart, which was beating out of control in her chest.

Fortunately, Sebastian came up beside her, and that was enough to bring back the joy of competition, the thrill that came to her with rivalry and bluster.

He escorted her to the hoops—his attractive lips stretched into a confident smile and his hands clasped behind his head in a pose worthy of a real swaggerer. As she took her position, he hovered silently beside her for a moment. There was an exchange of knowing looks and arrogant smirks – the implicit promise of putting on a show for each other and crushing their opponents while having a blast in the process hung in the air between them.

After making sure his dearest Anne was at ease before her grand debut on the pitch, Sebastian hurried to take his position before the starting whistle, pointing his broomstick towards the sky and quickly gaining altitude until he reached the halfway line. Straight in front of him, handsome and relaxed, stood Samuel Smith, who had happily returned to his role as seeker for the Hufflepuff team after his year at Durmstrang.

"Here we go, arsehole." Thought Anne and Sebastian in unison, unaware that they were sharing the few thinking cells floundering in their skulls.

A moment later, the match had begun and a whirlwind of yellow and green capes began to swirl in the air in the centre of the pitch as the chasers from both teams fought for the Quaffle to launch the first attack of the game. It was Slytherin who got the ball, and shortly afterwards went on to score the very first points of the championship. The pace of the game immediately grew fast and furious: Hufflepuff had no intention of giving up the match so easily, not after a year of complete abstinence from competitive sports.

Only ten minutes had passed since the kick-off when Anne had her first chance to touch the Quaffle, and she did so by making an outstanding save during a one-on-one following a foul called on Slytherin after Imelda was flagged by Madam Kogawa for blatching. That was only the first of several triumphs: no matter how hard the Hufflepuff chasers tried, the Keeper's reflexes were so quick and her disregard for danger so great that everyone soon realised it was virtually impossible to score in her hoops, to the point that the Slytherin chasers almost stopped playing defence, merely floating in midfield waiting for Anne Smith to throw them the Quaffle after she'd intercepted it.

Instead of basking in the applause of the crowd, however, the lovely ginger continued to cast worried glances at her hated brother.

Samuel, who was not above casting an Unforgivable Curse at her in order to win a stupid duel at the stupid duelling club, continued to draw near his teammates, gesturing in a way that seemed to suggest anger and disappointment. It looked as if he was going over some kind of plan with them, like a gang leader frustrated by his henchmen's failures, wanting to make sure they understood him clearly - that the plan to be carried out was plain to everyone. And said plan seemed to be clear to everyone, as the yellow and black badgers continued to nod obediently to the seeker every time they flew alongside him.

So what were they waiting for to carry out whatever despicable bollocks Samuel was orchestrating to prevent his pathetic squib sister from winning the game?

That Anne simply failed to understand.

Yet she remained focused on the game, delighted that her team was dominating while her brother's was suffering a crushing defeat.

Suddenly, a green silhouette dove down from above, rapidly losing altitude: like a hawk hovering in the sky, Sebastian had waited patiently and pursued his objective until, finally, his keen eyes spotted the unmistakable fluttering of the Golden Snitch's wings.

Samuel immediately launched himself in pursuit with impressive speed. He was diving almost vertically to catch up with his rival, and Anne had to admit to herself that her brother had balls.

"All balls and no brains, I'd say." The Keeper thought to herself with a disgusted grimace plastered on her face, which was soon replaced by a sincere smile as she threw her hands up in the air. "Go, Sebastian! Woohoo!"

The two seekers were now side by side - both fast, both determined. Ahead of them, the Golden Snitch darted unimpressed.

Anne was about to shout another cheer of encouragement to Sebastian when a quick movement right in front of her caught her attention.

And in a flash, Samuel's machinations at her expense became obvious.

A pair of tall, well-built Hufflepuff chasers were flying at ridiculous speed straight towards her.

The Quaffle was nowhere to be seen. And every keeper knew what that meant.

"Bloody Hell, they're attempting stooging!" She barely had time to think before she was smashed by the heavy lads.

The badgers positioned themselves on either side of her broomstick and grabbed her violently, shoving her with their shoulders and punching her in the ribs to immobilise her and overpower her in case she tried to fight back.

Indignant cries rose from the crowd. Meanwhile the world began to spin around Anne as she gritted her teeth and tried to elbow her attackers. Yet it was she who was struck: the bodies of the Hufflepuff boys were too sturdy and too heavy for her to be able to fight back in such a situation. The chaser on her right gave her a backhand slap across the face before grabbing the handle of her Ember Dash; the blow caused a burning pain and, in the back of her mind, her thoughts focused for a fraction of a second on the bruise that would surely form on her jaw. Just as it would form on her side, struck by another punch from the boy on her left.

The slender body of the fair ginger was shaken by a jolt of pain so intense that any strength to react and fight back immediately left her. And as her arms were grabbed by her opponents, she had just enough time to see in front of her the colourful pillar of one of the stands towers towards which the two chasers were leading her only to let go of her at the last moment and let her crash into it.

"This is going to hurt." She thought, closing her eyes with resignation.

Several metres below her, Samuel smiled smugly - soft ginger locks tousled by the wind and eyes fixed solely on the Golden Snitch in front of him. After all, he didn't need to look to know that his plan was working, he just had to listen, with maniacal satisfaction, to the cries of pain and shock his sister was letting out.

And just as Samuel had guessed, Sebastian Sallow couldn't resist that call.

The smile of the heir to House Smith became even more satisfied and cruel when his opponent flinched in response to Anne's cry of pain. Sebastian looked up at the sky - terror and anger reflected in his deep dark eyes at the shameful spectacle that was taking place. A strangled cry made its way up his throat before anxiety clenched it shut. A moment later, he was veering off course to reach Anne at mad speed - the Golden Snitch completely forgotten.

What the lovely ginger felt was a violent scuffle at the sides of her broom, and when she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a copious spurt of blood. Sebastian had just knocked the boy on her right aside, elbowing him squarely in the face. As the injured chaser lost altitude, holding his cheek with one hand, the Slytherin seeker performed a skilful spin to change sides and strike the remaining opponent with equal violence.

Gratitude and relief overshadowed the pain in Anne's head.

A moment later, her broom came to an abrupt halt, stopped by Sebastian's hand clutching the handle.

"Are you all right, red? No broken bones, right?" He frantically asked.

Then, without giving her time to answer, his right hand darted out to gently touch her face where his expert eye had noticed the swelling and redness typical of a large bruise about to form.

"Oh, red... Here, for a speedy recovery." He whispered, leaning over to give her a tender kiss on the cheek.

Then, quick and bold, he moved his lips to hers. It was with bewilderment that Anne felt her teeth clatter against Sebastian's and his breath mingle briefly with hers in a quick, clumsy kiss.

"That was for good luck!" He shouted to be heard above the clamour of the crowd, a roguish smile lighting up his face.

A moment later - his body rigid and his breath held - Sebastian was launching himself into a reckless vertical dive to try and intercept Samuel, who was getting closer and closer to the Golden Snitch several metres below.

"F-fuckwit!" Anne whispered, bringing her hand to her face.

She could still feel the tingling sensation that Sebastian's lips had left on her rosy skin, while her eyes frantically followed his movements to see if he would reach the Golden Snitch in time.

Then her gaze fell on Samuel. And the blackest, most overwhelming rage clouded her vision for a moment.

There stood her brother, focused and confident. The crowd cheered as if anticipating his triumph, and indeed, the Golden Snitch was now only a short distance away from the red-haired badger. In a few moments, Samuel would take his hands off the broomstick and support himself on his knees to stretch his hands out in front of him and achieve his goal - perfectly handsome with his strong, lean physique and his serene, smiling face.

"No, you bastard! I won't let you do that ! After all, if you're willing to do anything to win, why should I be any less?" Anne decreed as she sharply leaned her torso forward, pointing her broomstick downwards.

And before she could think about what she was doing, the fair ginger was swooping down, tracing an even steeper and more frightening angle than Sebastian's in the air. He saw her fly past his head like an arrow, and as the gust of wind caused by her crazy flight messed up his hair, causing his soft brown locks to fall over his eyes, he thought for a moment that Anne was aiming for the Golden Snitch.

Instead, with an animalistic cry, she threw herself off her broom, thrusting her arms forward.

A moment later, horror and surprise were painted on Samuel's handsome features as he was violently knocked off his broom.

The two siblings fell steeply towards the Quidditch pitch, struggling and writhing in a deadly embrace that Anne seemed unwilling to let go of.

Before they could crash horribly to the ground, Madam Kogawa's voice rang out.

"Arresto Momentum!"

Brother and sister remained suspended in the air a few inches above the ground for a moment, then fell onto the lawn with a thud. Anne was lying on top of Samuel, a wild grin distorting her delicate features into a mask of hatred as she tried to land a series of punches and elbows without paying too much attention to where she was hitting him. He grabbed her hair forcefully, yanking her long plait of ginger hair with violence before pushing her off him with a grunt of annoyance.

Fortunately for everyone, the pitiful spectacle could not continue any longer: Madam Kogawa was already invading the field - her face dark. At her side, Professor Weasley and Phineas Nigellus Black were running towards the Smith siblings as if the Devil himself were chasing them with a whip.

Someone was declaring Slytherin's victory over the megaphone, but the only thing Anne could focus on was the smell of the grass mixed with blood - whether hers or Samuel's was hard to say.

As if she were having an out-of-body experience, the Troll Slayer let the professors first check her and then help her to her feet as if she were indifferent to the rest of the world and what was about to happen to her.

She knew she had done something terrible this time.

She had committed a far worse foul than stooging; she had actually assaulted her brother, and it mattered little that Slytherin had beaten Hufflepuff: she was sure that Samuel would still rejoice at the thought that a severe punishment awaited her.

Madam Kogawa's shrieks and Professor Weasley's harsh, incredulous words echoed in her ears as a hand pushed her towards the exit of the field. A stream of students dressed in green flowed all around them: they were standing beneath the Slytherin stands.

Headmaster Black—whose hand was resting on Anne's back to guide her towards his study—said something that sounded muffled and distant to her ears, focused as she was on the crowd in search of her safe haven, in search of the person who had surely rushed down from the stands after witnessing the incident.

But Ominis was not there.

He hadn't come to attend the match, just as he had said he would many times over the past month.

A stab of pain pierced Anne's heart, erasing the one that the punches and elbows she had suffered during the match had caused. Rejected, sad and alone: that's how she felt once she was sure she wouldn't see Ominis in the crowd.

She let the professors guide her back to the castle as if she were an automaton while the greetings and cheers of her housemates and friends echoed in her ears without her really being able to hear them.

"Anne! Anne!" A shrill, feminine voice tried to call out to her.

But Anne Sallow couldn't make her way through the crowd in time to reach her friend, getting squeezed out as her sad dark eyes remained fixed on the backs of Anne Smith and the professors who were escorting her away.

Meanwhile, many students had gathered at that spot as if waiting for something. Right on cue, the victorious cheers of the Slytherin players rang out, and they appeared shortly afterwards - brooms in hand and green capes fluttering behind them.

Sebastian was in the front row, trying to extricate himself from the crowd as he looked around with a frantic expression. In the hand that wasn't holding his broom, he still clutched the Golden Snitch he had caught thanks to the Keeper's intervention, whom he was now trying to find, unable to suppress the trembling in his legs or control his increasingly ragged breathing as his brain realised he was too late to catch up with the professors who had taken her away from him.

"Brother! I'm here!" Anne Sallow called out as a small group of Gryffindor girls dressed in Slytherin colours pushed her aside. "Oi! Sebastian! Sebastian!"

But Sebastian's face was etched with the same pained and indifferent expression as Anne Smith's, his gaze just as glassy and defeated.

Imelda was already inviting all the members and supporters of her team to the Slytherin dungeons for a celebration with floods of Butterbeer involved.

"I don't want to celebrate without her." Sebastian had muttered as if talking to himself.

Unable to reach him, his sister watched in disgust as Violet and other girls pulled at his arms and at the cape of his Quidditch uniform until he reluctantly followed them with uncertain steps.

Anne Sallow stood there wringing her hands, not at all inclined to join in the celebrations of her housemates.

What had happened?

Why had her dear friend committed such a heinous foul, and against her own brother at that?

How could Anne Smith have sunk so low?

Questions and concerns crowded the young witch's mind as she continued to wonder whether her friend was all right after the stooging she had suffered and what drove her to return the favour with such violence.

After the triumphant exit of the Slytherin team from the stadium, the crowd of students had quickly dispersed and now only a few remained. However, there was another wave of hustle and bustle as the Hufflepuff supporters turned the corner, and Anne Sallow instinctively looked in their direction, drawn by the noise.

"Anne! How lovely to see you."

A melodious, deep voice reached her ears.

A moment later, she blushed at the sight of Samuel Smith walking towards her, leaving his teammates and admirers behind. He paused for a moment when he reached her, leaning nonchalantly on his broom.

"Uh, um, Samuel. Hi."

"I wasn't expecting to see you today. Not if Slytherin had won, at least. I figured you'd run off to celebrate with your friends."

Anne Sallow's full, sensual lips stretched into a smile that formed on her face without her even realising it, as if her spirits had been inexplicably and unwittingly lifted by the presence of the heir to the House of Smith.

"Ah, I bet you struggled to win just in the hope that I would be slower and more reluctant to come down from the stands!" She teased, trying to appear nonchalant without fully understanding or admitting to herself that she was deliberately using a flirtatious and seductive line.

"Well, yes, believe it or not. Apparently, though, it didn't matter whether I won or lost. You're here anyway."

"M-maybe it was Fate."

Samuel snorted a laugh that was as arrogant as it was genuinely amused. He shook his head as if he had just understood the mysteries of the universe and pitied those who were still groping in the dark, then looked sidelong at the girl in front of him and winked. He took a step forward to tower over her in all his height - his Quidditch uniform was torn and dirty from the fall, but it wrapped around his hellenic physique perfectly, contributing to highlighting his fit shape and undeniable charm.

"Listen, how come 'Fate' made you stay here all alone? Where’s your brother?"

"Oh, Sebastian will be in our common room celebrating by now. I—well, I wanted to understand what happened on the pitch. I—I’m so sorry that Anne... ended the game that way."

"Don't worry, sweet Anne. Quidditch is a tough game — not everyone can handle it, especially girls. And sometimes the competition can get a little too heated — particularly so between siblings! I guess you know something about that."

Anne Sallow laughed and lowered her head to hide her gaze with her chestnut fringe as a slight blush coloured her cheeks. But Samuel could still see her for what she was in that moment.

Frivolous, delicate, infatuated.

With him.

"Oh, I know all about it! Sebastian and I have gotten into so many fights." Her gaze and voice suddenly turned infinitely sad. "...Some worse than others." She murmured before shaking her head vigorously and smiling again. "We never came to blows, though! Haha!"

"You may never have come to blows, but I bet you got up to all sorts of mischief anyway. Would you like to tell me some of them over a pint?"

"What?! A - a pint? You mean ale?"

Samuel laughed again - still arrogant, still genuinely amused. His deep dark eyes roved over the sweet witch standing before him and held her gaze until she looked away, blushing.

"A pint of ale, aye. My friends and teammates thought it would be nice to go to the Three Broomsticks for a ‘consolation’ drink." He said, pointing to a large group of Hufflepuffs chatting nearby as if they were waiting for him. "If you're not going to celebrate with your team, why not join the losers?"

"Oh, I don't know, I—I—" Anne Sallow stammered and felt her breath catch as her heart began to pound in her chest so hard that she feared she had been cursed again.

She looked the Hufflepuff seeker straight in the face, and in a second all her suspicions about him and the seemingly disastrous relationship he had with his sister—her very good friend—were swept away like leaves in the wind.

Because Samuel was handsome.

It was as simple as that.

And besides, a group outing meant nothing to anyone, right?

He had probably invited her out of kindness, with no ulterior motives.

After all, they knew each other. A little.

"I'd love to come and have a drink with you at the Three Broomsticks, Samuel."

"Ah, good. Just a moment."

Samuel turned to his friends to get their attention and signal that they could resume walking towards Hogsmeade; at the same time, he gestured for a lad to throw him something, and a moment later he was catching a Hufflepuff scarf, which he promptly and smoothly wrapped around Anne Sallow's neck with one hand, removing the green one she was already wearing with the other.

"Much better." He whispered in her ear as he offered her his arm.

Anne Sallow stood open-mouthed for an indefinite period of time, only recovering when she found herself surrounded by smiling boys and girls introducing themselves and engaging in small talk to make her feel at ease. A shy smile curved her soft lips upwards as she let herself be led towards Hogsmeade with the uncertain, anxious step of someone who is getting involved with new friends and people without really knowing what they are doing.

By then no one remained in the vicinity of the Quidditch pitch.

Or rather, almost no one.

Loyal and stubborn to the end, Poppy had been standing by the stands until then just as her dear Anne Smith had asked her to. With a vague sense of disappointment lapping at her thoughts, she stubbornly continued to wait. Her frail body was hidden by several layers of clothing - which had been carefully selected to match the colours and style of Slytherin in every detail. But despite this, and despite the fact that the temperature wasn't particularly cold, Poppy was shaking like a leaf.

She was about to give in to the evidence and resign herself to the fact that Anne wasn't going to join her. She was about to hurry off to cry into her pillow when a calm, gentle voice reached her ears.

"Hello! You were waiting for Anne Smith, weren't you? I'm sorry, but she was escorted to the Headmaster's study in a hurry at the end of the match."

Poppy turned abruptly and jolted blatantly, bringing her hands to her chest. In front of her, Nerida Roberts politely raised a hand to her mouth to hide an amused smile.

"Um, yes. I was—I was waiting... I should have guessed she'd been summoned to the Headmaster's study, given how the match ended. I just hoped..."

Poppy began to wring her hands nervously and looked down. Nerida watched her curiously, letting her eyes wander to take in the face of the other girl - sweet, pretty, and perfectly framed by a thick bob of brown hair. Suddenly, she smiled again, but this time her expression was a strange mixture of understanding, sadness, and intrigue. Silently, she took a few steps closer to Poppy, then reached out her left hand and tilted her head to one side as her smile grew even wider.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Nerida. Nerida Roberts."

"Oh, Poppy Sweeting. Pleased to meet you too."

"Are you a friend of Anne Smith's?"

Poppy dropped Nerida's hand, lowering her gaze to the ground again as she prayed to Merlin and the whole Round Table that the tears threatening to form in the corners of her eyes would disappear.

"Sort of, I suppose. You’re housemates—I imagine you know her well."

"I much admire her, but I hardly know her. I’m not much of a talker, you see. I prefer quiet and solitude—I’d rather be left to my own devices than force myself to be someone I’m not just to be approved of by others. You get me?"

"Oh, yes. I think I understand."

Silence fell. Poppy continued to stare at the lawn as if it were about to reveal the secret to eternal life. Nerida, on the other hand, looked at her without stopping smiling. A slight blush had appeared on her white, slightly hollow cheeks.

"Anne Smith was nothing short of stunning today. Reyes always says she’s disgustingly lovely and horribly gorgeous, and she’s not wrong. I got excited watching her on the pitch today." Nerida paused, a brief flash of uncertainty crossing her face before giving way once more to her aura of calm and kindness. "I got very excited watching her, you know."

Poppy jerked her head up, her soft lips parting as if they had forgotten how to seal her mouth shut, while her mind searched for answers to questions she had never even dared to ask herself.

"What?! I—you—I don’t—I don’t understand... You, what?!" She stammered as her throat became as dry as desert sand.

Nerida remained unperturbed and continued to smile as if she had expected that exact reaction. Her physique was as thin and frail as Poppy's, but she was much taller, which made her appear more confident and self-assured to the other witch than she really was.

"Poppy, would you like to stroll along the shores of Black Lake with me? We could get to know each other better. Besides, it's not dark yet - it would be a shame to waste the rest of the afternoon within the castle walls."

"You mean you and me? Alone?"

"Yes, would you like to?"

Poppy nodded vigorously before she could even answer, her soft brown hair dancing frantically around her face.

"Great! Let's go then." Nerida replied, smiling inwardly with relief. "You look very pretty, by the way. Slytherin colours suit you. But maybe I'm biased!" She added almost absent-mindedly as she turned towards the peaceful path that connected the Quidditch pitch to Black Lake.

And while Poppy held her breath for the unnamed emotion that suddenly fluttered in her stomach, in the Headmaster's study, Anne Smith was snorting loudly, unable to contain the visceral hatred that burned in her veins.

"You have the nerve to snort? After the pitiful spectacle you put on?"

Jefferson Smith sat next to his daughter in front of the lavish wooden desk belonging to Phineas Nigellus Black - his expression serious, his posture rigid. His eyes, as expressive and dark as Anne's, swirled with disappointment and contempt mixed with shame.

"Come on, Jefferson! We've been hard enough on her. Now it's time to tone it down a bit, my friend. After all, no one got hurt, and Anne realised she had gone too far. Right, lass?"

Anne looked Headmaster Black straight in the face and almost felt sorry for him, for the way he was sweating and biting his lip in obvious embarrassment.

Phineas was a coward. But he was a ‘peaceful’ coward. If it were up to him, life would be a never-ending cycle of drinking and spouting nonsense in high society drawing rooms, and he didn't handle tense situations well. Yet, despite not respecting him in the slightest and being fully aware of his past and his rotten ideals, Anne did not see in him the same cruelty and hatred she had observed in other purebloods. As a result, she found herself, despite herself, reciprocating to a small extent the affection he seemed to have been showing her for some time now.

"Of course, Headmaster. I know my apologies don't count for much, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I got... a little too caught up in the competition, shall we say."

"See, Jefferson? Anne is an excellent student! A little mischief now and then can be forgiven, can't it? Ah! Ah!" Headmaster Black wrinkled his nose thoughtfully and drummed his fingers distractedly on his desk as if wondering whether his duty could be considered done. "Well, moving on to other matters: shall we have five o'clock tea? I had Scrope bake some biscuits this morning."

Just then, Scrope appareted beside his master.

"Scrope sought out Mr Samuel Smith to summon him here as requested, but Mr Smith seems to be nowhere to be found in the castle."

"Ah, never mind. We've already resolved the matter anyway." Muttered Headmaster Black, rising from his desk. "Please excuse me, but I must retire to my chambers for a moment to use the restroom." He added with a quick bow to his guests before turning to Scrope and gesturing conspiratorially towards the desk. "Set up for five o'clock tea in the meantime, eh? With biscuits and everything."

With a snap of his fingers, Scrope left the room while Phineas disappeared into his chambers with another bow.

An icy silence fell over the Headmaster's study, so complete and still that it seemed unnatural.

Father and daughter stood motionless for a few moments, each staring straight ahead. It was Lord Smith's low, rage-shaking voice that broke the silence.

"I still can't believe I was summoned here as a matter of urgency on a Sunday to be humiliated yet again because of this—this plague that Merlin has inflicted on me." He murmured cruelly as his attractive lips twisted into a disgusted expression identical to the one both his offspring wore when they wanted to express the same emotion.

"A plague, am I?! I was only defending myself! As I have been forced to do every day of my life!" Anne suddenly blurted out, unable to contain her hatred for her father any longer.

"You behaved like a savage! You are not a man, Anne—you are nothing but a female to be wedded off! And if Ominis Gaunt and his family should decide that you are no longer worthy of the title because of your behaviour—"

"Why is it always about me, Father?! Why is it always about my so-called failings as a daughter, when it is you, Father, who is the failure and the monster in my eyes? We haven't spoken in years - you've only heard about me through the grapevine for a whole year, and this is what you have to say to me?!"

"You will promptly apologise for your impudence, lass!" Lord Smith growled, leaning menacingly towards his daughter.

But it was not the anger in his voice nor his aggressive posture that stopped the fearless heart of the Keeper for a moment: it was the pristine white wand pointed at her chest.

The same wand that had inflicted pain on her many times before, and one time in particular.

"You are my daughter—you are a female. And you will behave as befits a future Lady, or else—"

"My love! I came as soon as I heard!"

The door to the Headmaster's study slammed shut after letting the Heir of Slytherin through, who strode quickly towards his betrothed, holding the chestnut stalk pointed right in front of him. When he reached her, she jumped up from her chair and threw her arms around his neck, hiding her face in his chest.

"What's going on? Did that bastard dare point his wand at you?!" He hissed in her ear speaking Parseltongue whilst gently wrapping her slender body in his stronger, taller frame.

Despite the gentleness of his gesture, she let out a soft wail of pain.

"My love, you're hurt!"

"Shh, don't worry. I've already been given a Wiggenweld Potion. The external wounds have healed, but the internal ones will take a little longer."

"I'm so sorry, Anne. I..."

Anne raised her head to look Ominis in the face and shook her head so gently that her long plait of ginger hair remained still against her back.

"You weren't there."

There was silence for a moment.

"You weren't there. Despite what happened this morning, you weren't there and -"

"I'm here now, my love. I'm here, my sweetest Anne." He said in a trembling voice laden with both love and regret.

With a slowness bordering on reverence, Ominis took her left hand in his to slip off the tight leather glove of her Quidditch uniform and kiss her engagement ring.

"I'm mortified, Anne. I rushed here as soon as I heard." He hissed against her white hand before giving her another adoring kiss on her ring finger. "I imagine the Headmaster had to bollock you, given what happened, but if your father disrespected you, I swear I'll -"

Her now bare left hand darted out to rest on his lips, accompanied by a faint giggle.

"You don't want to get a bollocking too, do you, my love?"

Jefferson Smith found himself listening to that intimate exchange in that peculiar serpentine language, feeling curiosity, fear and relief all at once. The curiosity and fear stemmed from the reverential respect he felt for the Gaunts and their mysterious practices—practices that his daughter seemed to accept and understand as if she had been married to Ominis for years rather than having been promised to him just a few months earlier. The relief that the handsome middle-aged man felt, on the other hand, stemmed from the fact that he had been able to see for himself that he had nothing to fear regarding his daughter's acceptance into her future family: Ominis Gaunt was completely smitten with her. Completely smitten and madly in love—that was plain and obvious for everyone to see, even for a man as dry and heartless as Lord Smith.

Said Lord suddenly awoke from his stupor when Ominis addressed him.

"Do you approve of it? The engagement ring I gave your daughter." He asked, moderating his tone to mask his anger and sound polite and cordial.

"Ah, certainly, Ominis. It is a lovely engagement ring. Most exquisite."

"Mmh. I had it forged with the finest goblin silver and I personally chose down to the last detail. Only the best for my Anne. She is a formidable witch, I am very fortunate to have her by my side." The Heir of Slytherin went on, this time failing to completely suppress the defiant tone that coloured his words.

"I am very pleased to hear it. Your father and I were just discussing the other day some details for the refreshment in your honour that we wish to hold to make your future wedding public."

Ominis nodded politely without letting go of Anne, whom he held proudly close to him.

Silence fell again, and shortly afterwards Scrope reappeared carrying a tray so long and laden with goods that it defied all laws of physics.

As if summoned to his study by the aroma of tea and biscuits, Phineas Nigellus Black reappeared from his chambers.

"Ah! Ominis, you've arrived just in time for five o'clock tea! You can't stay away from your lovely fiancée, can you? Ah, that naughty girl really got us into trouble today! But enough about that, my friends - let's enjoy our tea!"

With a snap of his fingers, Scrope began to tidy up the Headmaster's desk, considerably lightening the load on his tray.

Before returning to her seat, Anne felt Ominis pull her closer to his chest, bringing his face close to hers to kiss her cheek and whisper serpentine words in her ear.

"I'm very sorry we're stuck here with them for the rest of the afternoon, my love."

"We'll survive. We've seen worse, Gaunt."

"Ah, the first Beasts lesson of the academic year! There's no better way to start a Monday morning. Right, Sebastian?"

"If you say so, red."

"I'm not the only one saying it: that handsome smile lighting up your face speaks for itself. You're overjoyed to be here!"

Sebastian shook his head to hide his smile and aimed his deep dark eyes at the sky with feigned exasperation as he pushed himself back to rock on his stool, balancing himself with the hand he had clasped to the back of Anne's. Sure enough, she tried to remove his hand from the back of her stool to make him fall on his arse in the middle of the Beasts Classroom. Sure enough, he stopped rocking to catch her in his arms and lift her off her stool to sit her on his lap, rubbing her head hard with the knuckles of his right hand. Promptly, she began slapping him on the chest without hurting him in the slightest and bursting out laughing shortly afterwards as a result.

"Are you giving up already?" Sebastian asked her breathlessly, looking at her sideways as she sat back down on her stool.

"Better not to overdo it. I wouldn't want us to risk knocking over the desks and hitting that glass case." She replied in all seriousness, pointing to a large glass case resting on Professor Howin's chair a few inches from the front row of desks where they were sitting.

"It looks like some kind of beehive. What do you think the lesson will be about? Are we going to learn how to produce honey?"

"How to protect the bees more likely. I think that glass case contains a beehive infested with Glumbumbles."

A vaguely disappointed expression appeared on Anne's face as her rosy lips curved comically downward. A moment later, she was turning toward the pair of desks behind hers and Sebastian's with a guilty frown.

"I'm so sorry, my love. It looks like today's lesson is going to be particularly boring. But I swear this is usually a fascinating class! The best there is!" She said with conviction, only to tilt her head thoughtfully a moment later. "Well, the best after Divination that is." She blinked, staring into space. "Potions is probably my absolute favourite." She shook her head as if she had decided that her clarification was quite unnecessary. "Anyway, it’s a wonderful subject — you won’t regret taking this class, Gaunt!"

"I’m sure of it, Smith."

"Thank you for being here..."

Ominis smiled instinctively when the sweet whisper of his beloved reached his sensitive ears. He sat down a little more composed on his stool and ran a hand through his hair, vaguely annoyed that he was now tall enough to feel uncomfortable sitting at a desk. And the stools in the Beasts Classroom were particularly impractical. And although he did love animals and magical creatures in general, he wasn't particularly interested in the subject either, but during the summer Anne had begged him so insistently to take the class that in the end Ominis had given in to her imploring kisses and beseeching sweet words without putting up too much resistance. After all, dropping Arithmancy wasn't really a sacrifice: that subject had been imposed on him by his family - all the Gaunts had attended Arithmancy at Hogwarts. If the Beasts class offered him the opportunity to make Anne happy and to rebel a little against his hated family at the same time, so much the better!

Of course, Ominis would have preferred to sit at the same desk with her. Not with Leander Prewett.

And while he thought it was right that Anne and Sebastian should not give up sitting together, since they had attended that subject together the previous year, he nevertheless felt a vague sense of jealousy that had stuck with him from the day before.

The previous evening, after tedious hours spent conversing in the Headmaster's study, feigning politeness and smiles just to avoid further unnecessary trouble, Ominis and Anne had retired to the Room of Requirement, skipping dinner, and there she had fallen into a deep sleep less than fifteen minutes after they had set foot in her chambers - apparently exhausted from the adrenaline-filled day she had spent. The Heir of Slytherin had been lying in bed for several hours, unable to sleep - his betrothed clutched in his arms and a flood of thoughts swarming in his mind. He had thought back to Rookwood's Ashwinders - or rather Harlow's - and had made the grave mistake of dwelling on the memory of their heavy breathing as they spat out lust-filled obscenities, talking about his future wife as if she were a piece of meat.

He knew that Anne was a strikingly beautiful young witch—he had always known that, even before seeing her through her own memories in the Undercroft's Pensive. And he also knew that, beyond her vanity and frivolity, there was something that caused her deep pain in being considered desirable by other people.

After all, for many their appearance can turn into a cage, in one way or another. And Anne's did turn into a cage. A rather gorgeous cage, but a cage nonetheless - a prison that locked her soul up behind the expectations of a sexist society, ready to put her on display like an ornament to be admired, or worse, to use her as if she were indeed just a piece of meat without feelings. And the disrespectful lust that men of all ages threw at her without restraint at every turn both hurt and enraged Ominis every single time.

The encounter with the werewolves the day before had greatly disturbed him, reminding him of the horrible moment when he feared he would not arrive in time to save his beloved from the clutches of his loathsome brother. Now that sense of alarm and his ingrained instinct to protect Anne kept him on edge, unable to relax. Hearing her laugh at Sebastian's jests or knowing that the autumn breeze carried the scent of her long ginger hair to Leander's nose as much as it did to his, made him inexplicably want to bolt to his feet and carry Anne to safety.

"I need to calm down. A little jealousy is only normal, as is wanting to protect her from this vulgar and mean world. But my thoughts are becoming obsessive, and that's not good." Ominis, mature for his age and noble of spirit, ran his hand through his hair again, slightly ruffling his soft blond locks as if trying to physically chase away the ugly thoughts that had been plaguing him since the night before. "Possessiveness is not a good thing. Not at all. Anne is with me, but she is not mine. She belongs to me to the extent that I belong to her."

The mantra of wise words that Ominis kept repeating in his head to find concentration and face the day was brutally interrupted by Anne's embarrassed squeak as she jumped up from her stool and covered her chest: as a jest, Sebastian had pretended to spill his inkwell on her, but his act had turned out to be a little too careless and he had ended up spilling a good amount of ink on her.

"Sebastian, you idiot!"

"Come on, don't be so melodramatic, red! A flick of my wand and it's all sorted. Unless you'd rather I scrub your shirt by hand... "

Winking playfully, Sebastian leaned forward from his stool, reaching his hands dangerously ambiguously towards the breasts of the young witch betrothed to his best friend, who - even though he couldn't actually see what was happening - was already gnashing his teeth like a rabid dog while warning flashes of anger gleamed in his blind blue eyes.

"Oh, Ominis! Help me with this mess!" Anne whimpered as she sat on the lap of her blond knight, much to his relief.

With an elegant flick of his wrist, Ominis pointed the chestnut stalk at the shirt of his fair ginger and the ink stain immediately began to shrink until it vanished.

"Hey, why are you breathing so heavily? Is everything alright, my love?" Anne asked, gently stroking Ominis' hair.

"What? No, no, everything's fine."

He cleared his throat and forced a smile. She tilted her head to one side and shrugged before kissing him on the nose and returning to her seat.

The first thing she did once she sat down on her stool was to punch Sebastian's left shoulder with all her might, and the two of them burst out laughing once again. Ominis sighed deeply and rested his elbows on the desk, holding his forehead with both hands.

It had been a long time since he had felt jealousy and annoyance towards Sebastian - or towards anyone, for that matter - and he didn't like it one bit.

His musings were interrupted by the hurried arrival of Professor Howin, who immediately began rummaging with the glass case resting on her chair.

"Please excuse my tardiness, class! There was a last-minute request to join this course, and the Deputy Headmistress and I had to fill out some paperwork." She muttered, puckering her thin, wrinkled lips as she gestured annoyedly towards the back of the classroom without taking her eyes off the hive in the glass case. "Will you help the new student catch up, Miss Sweeting?"

"Certainly, and with great pleasure!"

Anne turned abruptly towards the back of the classroom, as did several other people.

There, Poppy and Nerida were taking their seats next to each other, hurriedly arranging their stationery so they would be ready to start the lesson. The lovely ginger remained turned around, observing the newcomers with curiosity for much longer than necessary and ignoring Sebastian's repeated nudges to get her attention.

"You won't regret taking Beasts, you'll see! Even though you had to give up Muggle Studies, I guarantee it was worth it!" Poppy exclaimed, swinging her legs under the table with enthusiasm - too short to touch the ground as she perched on her stool.

"Well, I am Muggle-born, after all. I suppose I already know a lot about Muggles without having to study them."

"I didn't know you were Muggle-born! Why didn't you tell me?"

Nerida cocked her head to one side and ran a hand through her hair, slightly mussing her dark brown fringe in a gesture that seemed vaguely nervous to Anne.

"Why? Is it particularly relevant to you?"

"Oh, no. I would say not. But we talked a lot yesterday, I'm surprised you didn't tell me."

"I couldn't possibly have told you everything about myself in just one day! We'll have plenty of other opportunities to get to know each other, won't we?"

Poppy blushed rather obviously and her sweet dark eyes fixed on Nerida's hazel ones for a long moment. They both smiled, something unspoken and strangely intimate seemed to hang in the air between them.

Then Poppy looked away and turned her head towards Anne as if she had suddenly felt the weight of her curious stare on her skin. The blush on her cheeks became even more pronounced, but her smile faded to give way to a vaguely sad and decidedly embarrassed expression. She shyly raised her hand in a gesture of greeting, and the Troll Slayer reciprocated with a brief nod before finally turning towards the teacher's desk.

The day's lecture was as tedious as one might expect from a lesson focused on Glumbumbles and the most efficient ways to prevent infestations and preserve common bee honey from their destructive treacle. Perhaps that was why Anne kept turning around from time to time to curiously observe Poppy taking notes with her new friend - a Slytherin, no less.

The fair ginger had always found Nerida's company pleasant, however rare and brief, and in a way she was relieved to see Poppy in the company of someone who seemed happy to spend time with her. Nevertheless, from another point of view, she felt left out, because having considered herself Poppy's only friend for so long had made her feel special, however unfair and childish that thought might be.

When class ended, Anne turned back towards Ominis' desk to help him tidy up his things as she was wont to do between classes - even though he insisted he didn't need any help. Her attention was once again drawn to the two girls at the back of the classroom who were getting up from their seats to say goodbye to each other.

"All this talk of honey has made me crave some! Would you care to accompany me to Honeydukes?" Nerida asked with apparent nonchalance despite the slight blush colouring her cheeks.

"Oh, that would be lovely, but... My Divination class is about to begin."

"You could always skip it."

Poppy seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding enthusiastically and accepting Nerida's proposal.

"Poppy skipping class to go buy sweets and candies with a new friend?! That's wild!" Anne mused, increasingly intrigued.

"Miss Smith!"

There was a shrill, disjointed scream followed by a splash caused by the ink that the Troll Slayer had spilled jumping like a frightened cat.

"Y-yes, Professor Howin?"

As Anne turned to the old witch, Sebastian pulled out his wand, chuckling, to help Ominis remedy the disaster that had just occurred on his desk.

"Miss Smith, regarding what we discussed with the Deputy Headmistress last year: what have you decided to do?"

"Professor, I thought you agreed to give me a little more time to decide. I am very inclined to accept your offer, but it's not easy for me to imagine myself behind a teacher's desk at this age. And you still intend to work for another four years before retiring anyway."

"Given how undisciplined you have been recently, Miss Smith, the Deputy Headmistress and I have decided to put some pressure on you in the hope of straightening you out before you become completely loose. I expect a final answer by the end of the first term. If you'll accept the Beasts professorship, we will start working in earnest on your curriculum vitae."

Anne nodded, nervously biting her soft lips.

"Professor—"

"Ah! For heaven's sake, Miss Smith! I am a woman of few words, and I certainly have no time to waste. Come now, you'll be late for your next class—we'll talk when you can give me a yes or a no."

Without another word, the blunt professor turned her back on her student and returned to her chair, waiting for her next class to begin.

Anne silently took the arm Ominis was offering her and began to follow him along the path leading to the castle, trying to filter out the nonsense he and Sebastian were spouting so she could stay focused on her dilemma.

The Divination Classroom was quite perfumed, which did not bother the Heir of Slytherin at all. His overly sensitive sense of smell had long since made him resigned to getting used to all kinds of disgusting stenches, especially when it came to spending many consecutive hours in classrooms with closed windows and packed with wizards and witches his own age: it was a nice change to lose himself in a cloud of perfumes. The fragrance that dominated above all others was the exotic scent of incense, but Ominis could also detect the hint of lavender emanating from the pouffes and tablecloths scattered around the classroom, as well as from the curtains covering the windows and wooden ceiling. He could also distinctly smell the fine blend of green tea being poured into the cups placed in front of each student from an enchanted teapot that floated casually around the classroom.

Ominis let out a satisfied humming sound, sinking into his pouffe. He inhaled deeply the smell of incense and green tea, while the faint gurgling in front of him suggested that the enchanted teapot was pouring the hot drink into his cup.

Lounging at a fancy table with a nice cup of tea ready to be enjoyed instead of sitting at an uncomfortable desk with ink and parchment in hand suited Lord Gaunt perfectly.

He closed his eyes and another deep, satisfied hum rose in his throat as he felt Anne's soft body press against his. She gently rested her head on his right shoulder and took his left hand in hers, bringing it to her lap and caressing it gently in a way that would have soothed him to sleep better than a lullaby if they had been in their bed.

Although he was in no danger of falling asleep, Ominis became deeply relaxed, and he buried his nose in Anne's hair to smell the scent he loved more than any other in the world - more than any incense or linen fragrance.

"It's so strange to see you and Sebastian here." Anne murmured without stopping to stroke Ominis' hand with hers while she rested her head on his strong chest as if it were a lifeline.

He smiled with his eyes still closed and his face hidden in her mane.

The lovely ginger hadn't even had to try and convince him and Sebastian to take Divination instead of Ancient Runes; it had been their choice, partly out of curiosity and partly out of the reverential respect that the authentic Visions granted to the Keeper by her Inner Eye had awakened in them.

Now Sebastian was chatting amiably with Natty and Garreth as he sat with them at a small table not far from the more isolated one where Anne and Ominis had settled. The Heir of Slytherin could hear a faint slurping sound, which made him aware that his best friend had started sipping his tea without realising that it would probably be needed during the lesson - his Gryffindor friends did not seem inclined to stop him. For a moment he thought about saying something to him, his blind blue eyes opening for an instant before he decided to close them again and revel in the scent of his betrothed.

"Are you happy? Are you excited about your first Divination class?" She asked in a whisper, raising her head and letting her breath mingle sensually with his.

"I'm happy, yes. Everything is as it should be right now." He replied, tenderly rubbing his nose against hers. "You and me." He added, brushing her soft, tempting lips with his. "Finally sitting next to each other." He continued, smiling against her mouth at the way her breathing had suddenly become erratic. "Alone."

"Oi! Make room!"

There was a thud as a heavy tome slammed onto the table and then the clink of teacups rattling from the impact. Ominis and Anne jumped in unison, and he even let out a surprised yelp.

"Merlin, you two are a truly gruesome sight."

"Then why in Hell did you come and sit with us, Imelda?" Anne growled almost gnashing her teeth in protest at the annoying intrusion.

"Because there’s nowhere else to sit, you idiot! Do you think I enjoy watching Lord Gaunt's mating rituals up close?" Imelda pointed out, taking a seat on a pouffe while rubbing her toned thighs, still sore from the physical exertion of the previous day on the Quidditch pitch. "Between you and me, Ominis, you really should get a grip on yourself. The amount of drool you produce at the slightest whimper from your disgustingly lovely princess is embarrassing, really."

Ominis cleared his throat, his face red. But before he could compose himself and reply to Imelda's taunt, Professor Onai rose from her desk, walked to the centre of the room and began the lesson.

"Welcome back, my dears. Welcome back, Miss Sallow, dear." She said, clasping her hands in front of her chest and bowing slightly to her students without the rich orange turban on her head moving an inch. "There are many new students who have decided to attend my class this year, and this fills me with joy. Let us all welcome Mr Gaunt, Mr Sallow, Mr Thakkar and Mr Weasley!"

Amit suddenly rose from the pouffe on which he had been sitting with a solemn air as if he had somehow understood from Professor Onai's words that he was invited to introduce himself and give a speech to the class. Anne Sallow promptly tugged at the sleeve of his Ravenclaw robes to silently urge him to return to his seat without making a fool of himself; he sank back into his pouffe without protest and gave her an embarrassed smile.

"Alas!" Continued the Ugandan Seer. "I would like to believe that it was my reputation as a teacher that attracted these dashing young wizards to my class, but I fear that the credit goes to our resident Troll Slayer! After all, it's not every day that you meet someone blessed with the Sight - it's only natural that you should all be curious to see the abilities of your schoolmate up close. And given how lovely she is, it's no wonder the lads are flocking after her! Ha! Ha!"

Professor Onai's quip was meant to be innocent and harmless, but a buzz of excitement rose in the classroom and Anne felt herself blushing with embarrassment as Ominis stiffened beside her.

"See? It was just another way of saying you're a disgustingly lovely ginger." Imelda whispered smugly as she absent-mindedly curled a strand of brown hair around the index finger of her left hand.

Anne kicked her under the table and the loud harpy howled in pain, glaring at her.

"Very well." Continued the teacher. "Today we will try to explore possible futures and the hidden emotions tucked away in the folds of our unconscious through Tessomancy. Now—oh, Merlin’s goodness, Mr Sallow! Have you already drunk your tea? You should have waited, dear..."

There was the sound of ceramic clanging against ceramic as Sebastian hastily placed his half-empty teacup on the saucer in front of him; Natty and Garreth laughed uncontrollably, while he simply cleared his throat in slight embarrassment.

"Never mind, dear. Here, I'll pour you some more."

With a flick of her wand, Professor Onai guided her enchanted teapot towards the Slytherin heartthrob as she went on to give everyone instructions for the lesson.

Once again, Ominis marvelled at how enjoyable Divination class was and wondered why he had never thought of taking this course before Anne Smith came into his life. The herbaceous flavour of the tea and the warmth of its steam, accompanied by the melodious voice of his girl as she leaned gracefully against his chest, holding his hand and intertwining her fingers with his made everything seem all too magical - even by Hogwarts standards.

An hour passed like that, between chatting and sipping tea - in the background, Professor Onai's warm, soothing voice repeated the steps to be followed once the hot drink was finished.

"What are you doing? You're not stirring the tea leaves, are you?" Asked Imelda, squinting her curious dark eyes to observe closely what the Slytherin wonder sitting opposite her was doing whilst swirling her empty cup in her left hand as instructed in the textbook.

"Nonsense, stirring the tea leaves is useless. It’s all for the sake of drama and nothing more."

With a sharp movement, Anne Smith turned her cup upside down on the saucer, stifling a laugh when she saw Imelda immediately and perfectly imitate her gesture.

Slowly and gingerly, Ominis did the same before turning his head towards his sweetheart, a slight blush colouring his cheeks.

"You'll have to help me a little, Smith. I mean, you'll have to describe what's in the teacup, even though I know that's technically cheating. But then I can try to interpret the tea leaves myself with the help of the textbook."

"What would be the advantage of being betrothed to a Seer if you couldn't even freely avail yourself of her services? I'll take care of your cup, don't worry, Gaunt."

Anne gave Ominis a reassuring pat on the chest and his thin lips stretched into an even broader smile.

"Um, I have a feeling that many people will want to take advantage of your services." Said Imelda, glancing at the rest of the classroom.

Indeed, many asked Anne Smith—more or less discreetly—to peer into their tea leaves.

Ominis' playful smile became more pronounced every time she spoke. She was having a lot of fun alternating between answers worthy of a true Seer and cosmic shite, aiming to confuse her classmates and leave them in disbelief to wonder for hours which of her Readings were real and which were made up.

Imelda watched the disgustingly lovely ginger with envy and continued to frantically take notes every time she opened her mouth.

It was extremely fascinating to witness a true Seer at work. While everyone else in the classroom struggled to make sense of what appeared to be nothing more than clumps of black filth, Anne Smith and Professor Onai seemed to be peering through a small window into another world. It was clear from the way their gazes became more intense and focused, from the way they nonchalantly turned the cups in their hands to observe them from different angles until they found what they were apparently looking for - whether it was a tea stain left on the rim or a lump clumped in a corner at the bottom.

Everyone is instinctively captivated by the idea of glimpsing their own future, and Imelda was no exception: she stared at Anne Smith with such admiration and focus that she seemed on the verge of getting a headache from the effort.

Ominis, on the other hand, was feeling a complicated mix of emotions.

He was very proud of Anne and deeply fascinated by her abilities, not to mention the fact that he could barely suppress his laughter every time he detected her mischievous tone as she spouted utter nonsense with a perfectly straight face. She was just wonderful – his incomparable, talented, witty girl. And precisely because of that, annoyance and vexation were also welling up inside him towards their insufferable classmates who were so brazenly determined to monopolise her attention.

The Heir of Slytherin, though still smiling, possessively slid his hand onto the thigh of his betrothed, squeezing it tightly and settling dangerously close to her crotch - pulling up her uniform skirt so much in the process that it would have been eye-catching if their legs hadn't been tucked under the table.

"Anne! Anne!" Anne Sallow called, waving her arms to get the attention of her friend. "Can you read my cup?"

"Anne, that would be cheating! We can manage just fine without Smith's help, we just have to... "

Amit began frantically leafing through the book open on the table in front of him - his thin, slender body was bent over the yellowed tome in such an unnatural fashion that it looked as if it might snap in two. Suddenly, he closed the book and picked up his teacup, looking at it in a way that suggested how ridiculous and frivolous he thought Divination was.

But Amith Thakkar was a boy in love.

And now that his sweet Anne Sallow was finally back at Hogwarts, he had no intention of missing a single opportunity to spend time with her, even if it meant giving up Ancient Runes to stare at lumps of encrusted dirt at the bottom of a teacup.

"Come on, Anne. I'll gladly read it for you. I can read yours too, Amit, if you like." Anne Smith said in a melodious voice, reaching out to her friends' table to invite them to hand over their cups.

Anne Sallow quickly got up from her pouffe laughing excitedly, and Amit followed her with a gloomy face, still glaring at the teacup in his hands.

"Let's See what we have here."

Anne Smith took her friend's cup in her hands, smiling knowingly and speculatively as she curled a long lock of ginger hair around her finger with a frivolous air.

Suddenly her expression became deadly serious and she grabbed the teacup with both hands.

"Oh, Anne! You're scaring me! What do you See?! What do you See?!" Anne Sallow asked, her heart sinking.

Imelda fixed her curious dark eyes on the disgustingly lovely ginger with trepidation: whatever the fledgling Seer had Seen, it was something that startled her.

"Anne, what did you See?! Tell me, please! You've frightened me!"

"Professor?" Anne Smith called with an impassive expression painted on her face, completely ignoring her friend. "Can you help me read this cup? I can’t See anything."

Imelda - clever and perceptive as she was - immediately understood that the Troll Slayer had Seen way too much and wanted Professor Onai's opinion without influencing her with her own judgement to be one hundred per cent sure she had Seen correctly.

"Whose teacup is it?" Asked the Ugandan Seer with a smile as she turned the ceramic in her hands, searching for the right angle.

"It's mine, Professor."

"Oh, very well, Miss Sallow." Professor Onai's wise dark eyes rested briefly on the younger Seer as if she doubted that she had really Seen nothing. "I See a badger, Miss Sallow." She finally said as she returned the cup.

"A badger?!" Anne Sallow asked, jolting awkwardly.

"That's right. The badger is a nocturnal, subterranean creature, considered a symbol of mystery and introspection in the world of Tessomancy." The teacher explained with a motherly smile as she guided the student back to her seat. "An invite to explore forgotten places within yourself, perhaps? Is there something new stirring within you, Miss Sallow? Perhaps on a subconscious level? Love maybe?"

"Oh, I - I wouldn’t know, Professor..."

"Let’s hope that, after all that that nasty malady took from you, this badger symbolises a new beginning and inner growth, dear."

Anne Smith watched the scene in silence: she was so still that she seemed to have stopped breathing.

"A badger?" Amit muttered, tilting his head to one side. "Are you sure there wasn't a raven somewhere? A little one, perhaps?" He asked his Slytherin friend with a vaguely sad and disappointed expression.

"I don't know. I didn't See anything, Amit." Lied the pythoness.

"Come on now, it’s my turn!"

Imelda unceremoniously pushed her teacup into Anne Smith's hands, bouncing on her pouffe with impatience. Her face was a mask of trepidation, her thin lips stretched into a smile that was part hopeful, part uncertain.

"Ah, would you look at that! I will be nominated best keeper of the year, bringing much honour to Slytherin. Ah, what a shame, though! Despite everything, Gryffindor will win the Quidditch Cup this year."

"Don't talk bollocks, Smith!"

"Oh, it's not bollocks, Imelda. It's all written here, see?"

Ominis burst out laughing while the loud harpy picked up her cup again, looking into it with distrust and muttering "Bollocks!"

After a few moments, unable to resist her curiosity any longer, Imelda stood up and walked briskly towards Professor Onai.

"What do you say? Is it finally my turn, my love?" Ominis asked with a smile as he groped for his upturned teacup to lift it off the saucer.

"Of course! Let me See!"

Anne Smith took the cup of the Heir of Slytherin and began to turn it over in her hands, humming cheerfully while he continued to sensually rub her thigh, waiting for her verdict.

"Well, there's a jagged stain here on the rim." She began, letting her eyes find the right angle without being distracted by the strong, bold hand of her fiancé on her taut leg. "It's a hand — a hand reaching out to take something. It symbolises the ability and willingness to act, to dominate, to take control. Hmm, next to it, however, there is something I can't quite See..."

Anne Smith tilted her head to one side and remained focused while absent-mindedly playing with a few strands of her long ginger hair. Squinting slightly, she paused for a moment on the hand-shaped stain and then returned to observe the one right next to it: they were so close to each other that it looked as if the fingers of the imaginary hand were about to touch the soft contours of the other indefinite shape.

The expressive dark eyes of the young Seer widened in astonishment and embarrassment when she finally recognised what the hand-shaped stain was striving to reach at the bottom of Ominis' cup.

A cunt.

"Ominis! Do - do you think this is a-appropriate?!" She squealed hysterically, vigorously slapping the chest of the Heir of Slytherin as her white cheeks turned redder than her hair.

"Oi! What's got into you, love?!" He asked looking surprised, passively enduring her assault.

Suddenly, her hands stopped and rested gently on his shoulders, playing with the hem of his Slytherin robes.

"I'm afraid it's my fault..." Anne whispered softly, leaning shyly towards Ominis' neck to leave a trail of kisses on his Adam's apple. "Merlin, I've kept you on the edge so much that now you'll probably dream of it at night! ...I'll take care of you later, my love, I - I promise."

Ominis had no idea what Anne had Seen in his teacup, but he couldn't care less. Her trembling voice, her soft, alluring lips on his neck, and her promise to 'take care of him' made even more sincere by the feminine scent wafting from her skin meant that his future was definitely sweet and wet.

And in a second, his cock became harder than rock right in the middle of the Divination Classroom.

There couldn't have been a worse moment for Garreth Weasley to approach the table occupied by the Heir of Slytherin and his sweet Lady-to-be.

"Hi, Anne! Would you mind taking a look at my cup too?" Asked the bold lion, startling Anne Smith as he sat down on the pouffe next to hers flashing an attractive, flirtatious smile.

The young lady jumped and turned towards the newcomer, trying to compose herself as the blush on her face became, if possible, even more intense.

"Of course, Garreth. Um, let me See. Ah, it looks just like a peacock! Say, are you trying to impress someone? Ah! Ah!"

Garreth gazed at Anne's face as a cat stares at a bird. Perhaps it was the Veela blood singing seductively in her veins, or perhaps it was her heavy breathing and the blush on her cheeks from being caught in a moment of intimacy that made her completely irresistible. Whatever the case, the jovial lion was momentarily overwhelmed by his treacherous hormones, and without even realising what he was doing, he let his gaze fall on Anne Smith's firm breasts, casually running a hand through his ginger mane.

"Well, I'll never give up hope of making an impression on you."

Garreth didn't have time to recover from his blunder and feel ashamed.

Anne didn't have time to blush more and mumble some nonsense to dispel the awkwardness.

Ominis was the first to react—or rather, to lose his temper.

"Why don't you and your bloody teacup get the fuck out of here, Weasley?!" He growled in a voice that was both velvety and scorching.

"Oops, sorry, both of you! I was just trying to be playful, but it came out a bit strong." Garreth said, hastily getting up from the pouffe and smiling awkwardly.

Anne was quick to smile back and wave her hand to signal that she wasn't offended in the slightest.

"Don't worry, Garreth. It was just a bit of bluster - after all, you have the peacock!" She chuckled and shook her head hoping to ease the tension before adding in a more serious tone. "Don't mind Ominis, he—"

"Ah, don't worry, Anne—you're too kind! Gaunt has every reason to be angry. I'd be jealous too if a bloke talked to my girl like that." Garreth conceded in all honesty before returning to Natty and Sebastian with his tail between his legs.

Anne turned back to Ominis and gently cupped his face in her hands, caressing his cheeks in a way that immediately dispelled the anger that had been ominously furrowing his blond eyebrows.

"See? There was no need to mark your territory like that, Gaunt. You're awfully tense today—are you sure everything's all right?"

He nodded, and she tried to peer into his blind blue eyes as if her abilities as a Seer could be useful even in that circumstance.

"Come on, let's See what's in my teacup, shall we?" She said in a light tone to distract him. "Oh, look at that!"

With a smooth gesture, the Keeper turned her cup and lifted it from the saucer. She wrinkled her nose thoughtfully and drummed the fingers of her left hand on the table as she tilted her head from side to side to find the right angle from which to gaze at her future.

"Ah!" She suddenly exclaimed with enthusiasm.

"What do you See, my love?"

"A ladder. And above the ladder, an open book that seems to fly like a bird."

"And what does that mean?"

Ominis leaned towards the table as if he too hoped to see something. His countenance was now relaxed and calm once more—all traces of jealousy and nerves completely vanished and replaced with genuine fondness mixed with curiosity.

She smiled and leaned languidly against his strong body as she let her gaze linger one last moment on her tea leaves.

"It means there's no point in stalling, my love. It seems I must give Professor Howin my answer without thinking too much about it."

Chapter Text

"So? What are you going to give Ominis for his birthday? Have you arranged a surprise for him, or will you be attending the Hallowe'en banquet?"

The clicking of Anne Sallow and Anne Smith's footsteps echoed in front of the Slytherin common room as soon as they crossed the threshold, passing the silver coils of the Basilisk and heading arm in arm towards the Great Hall where a sumptuous dinner awaited them after a particularly tedious Tuesday.

The lovely ginger bit her lips as a slight blush flushed her pale cheeks. Her mind lingered languidly on saucy thoughts and the brand-new, far from chaste lingerie she had already folded, perfumed and placed in her wardrobe in the Room of Requirement, ready to be used. She shook her head and composed herself, preparing to answer her friend's question without mentioning the 'private feast' she intended to offer Ominis once the castle had fallen asleep on Hallowe'en night.

"It's a pity I can't confide in Anne about my intimacy with Ominis. It would be nice to have a female friend to talk to, besides Natty. But she still feels something more than friendship for him, and I suspect she doesn't approve of certain practices of the carnal sort..." She thought without realising that her expression was darkening slightly as the silence grew longer.

"Well? Oh, Anne! Don't tell me you haven't planned anything yet! October 31st is the day after tomorrow! Ominis will be devastated if -"

"Miss Smith!"

A thunderous, maniacal voice cut through the silence of the dungeons like a knife, startling the girls as they climbed the first steps of the marble staircase to the right of their common room.

Anne Smith spun around, frowning.

"By Merlin's beard! Here we go again! What on Earth has possibly happened this time?!" She hissed, unconsciously speaking in Parseltongue and failing to notice the look of equal parts fear and curiosity that her friend shot her from the corner of her eye.

In front of them, several Slytherin students were hurriedly stepping aside to let the Bloody Baron through, whose floating gait was always intimidating to say the least, thanks to the heavy chains he let drag almost lazily along the floor and the ghostly drops of blood that formed an eerie trail behind him every time he moved from one place to another.

"Miss Smith!" Repeated the ominous spectre, approaching the Troll Slayer with a serious countenance.

His harsh bark echoed through the dungeons, bouncing off the stone walls, and she ran both hands through her long ginger hair, vigorously shaking her head as if trying to fight off a sudden wave of migraine.

"There's no need to shout, sir! You have my full attention." She said, forcing the words out as she bowed her head gracefully in a respectful curtsy.

It took an enormous effort for her to address the ancient spectre without calling him an idiot, but a kind and courteous demeanour was always preferable with the Bloody Baron - resentful and vengeful as any.

Apparently pleased by the amenable disposition of the Keeper, the fallen nobleman returned her courteous curtsy and then fixed his small eyes - still as expressive as ever and exuding maniacal cruelty like his voice and gait - on her delicate features.

"Mmh, thou prove ever a flawless dame, Miss Smith—well-mannered and dignified, just as to be expected of the future Lady of the House of Gaunt. The blind serpent hath chosen well." He murmured distractedly, almost as if talking to himself, while elegantly offering his ghostly hand to Anne Smith. "I am truly sorry to delay thy supper, fair one, but I fear thou art the only one who may help me."

"Help you? Forgive me, sir, but I cannot imagine how I could be of assistance to you."

"Thou canst help me, indeed. Thou hast to help me, by Salazar! Help me not to lose mine wits, that is."

The fair ginger took a step back, holding her breath as her cheeks flushed red again – this time with genuine embarrassment, not because of lewd thoughts of her fiancé.

"I beg your pardon, but I still fail to understand, sir." She stammered, lowering her gaze.

"Thy reticence and modesty do thee merit, but I seek not what thou think. Take mine hand without fear, fair one: I am much too dead to be a threat to thy virtue. And, alas, it is precisely because of mine and his nature that I cannot resolve the matter as I would have done when I still drew breath."

The lovely ginger placed the palm of her left hand on the one the Bloody Baron held outstretched and open before her, pretending to rest the weight of her arm on his ghostly one to humour him as she gestured to her friend to proceed to the Great Hall without her.

"Since you are turning to me for help, I suppose you need something very specific. Could it be that a troll has sneaked into the dungeons?" She jested as the ancient fallen nobleman led her into the depths of the Slytherin dungeons.

"If only it were a troll! But nay - no troll. Just Richard Jackdaw and his whining. If he still had a heart—and if I still had an arm to strike the blow—I would pierce it without delay to silence his childish wails and spare mine ears this unbearable hassle!"

"Richard Jackdaw? What—"

"That's right. Since I cannot slay the bastard and be done with it, I am forced to ask thee to appease him. After all, on his last Deathday he recounted that it was thee, Troll Slayer, who found his remains after countless years. Whatever this is about, mayhap thou canst help him?"

As the heavy iron gate blocking the entrance to the Deathday Party Hall creaked ominously in the silence of the dungeon, Anne's mind went blank, surprised as she was by the strange turn her evening was unexpectedly taking. A shiver ran down her spine when the icy air of the dead room seeped through her clothes and caressed her skin, but she did not slow down and continued on until she found herself in the gloomy ballroom that the ghosts of the castle had haunted since time immemorial. Within those walls, as cold as the touch of Death itself, Ominis had kissed her for the very first time. But that evening, the scene was quite different from the one cherished in the precious memories of the lovely ginger. The Deathday Party Hall was packed: a crowd of spectres of all ages and genders stood huddled in a circle right in the middle of the dance floor, but no one was dancing and there was no music in the air. The only thing that could be heard in the ether were the inhuman, desperate moans of Richard Jackdaw, whose ghostly voice drowned out every other sound.

"Excuse me. Please excuse me. Pardon me." Anne murmured, curtsying left and right to the ghosts who were stepping aside to let the Bloody Baron through, who still insisted on keeping her on his arm like a true knight of yore.

"Vile thieves! Oh, sweet Apollonia, my darling! For years I have ensured that your - our hideout remained a perfect sanctuary filled with memories, but 'twas all in vain! It's been violated - your treasured trinkets, stolen!"

"What happened, Richard? Did someone rob you?"

As soon as he heard the Keeper's voice, Richard Jackdaw immediately straightened his back. The lips that had once whispered sweet words and lavished kisses to countless young ladies stretched into a hopeful smile as the scoundrel of old bowed before the Slytherin girl in a decidedly overblown curtsy.

"Miss Anne Smith, Fate has brought you to me once again! I helped you without asking for anything in return when we first met, remember? Will you help me now?"

"I'll do my best. What was stolen from you?"

"Stolen, yes, indeed. But not from me - from Apollonia! I hadn't been to our grotto for a few months, and today, when I floated down there as I usually do when melancholy strikes me, I found myself faced with mayhem!"

Anne began to shift her weight nervously from one foot to the other, scraping the black ankle boots of her uniform on the rough stone floor. She was liking the turn her evening was taking less and less.

"Mayhem you say? You mean someone found Apollonia's old hiding place and ransacked it?"

"That's right! Barbarians! Filthy thieves! If Apollonia were alive, she would have bent her elbow against them without a moment's hesitation, but, alas, neither she nor I can avenge the wrong done to us. Will you do it, my friend? Will you go and see if any of the stolen goods can still be recovered?"

A dreadful foreboding, as disturbing as it was intangible, gripped the Keeper’s gut, and she found herself nodding sharply and replying in a whisper.

"Of course. I’ll see what I can do."

Richard Jackdaw's enthusiastic ovations of gratitude barely reached her ears. Her mind was already drifting, lost amid the doubts and uncertainties arising from the implications of the breach of Apollonia's grotto. The only thing she noticed as she turned her back on Richard Jackdaw and the Bloody Baron was the intensifying of the chill that permeated the Deathday Party Hall, partly due to the fact that the ghosts present were crowding around her to bid her farewell, patting her on the back and poking her cheeks with their incorporeal spectral hands.

Silent and swift as if she herself were a ghost, the fair ginger walked through the halls of the castle until she reached the Great Hall, where the rest of the students were already seated at their tables and busy eating dinner.

At the Slytherin table, Sebastian was standing with his right foot resting on the wooden bench in front of him, gesturing with emphasis as he addressed a packed group of witches of all ages who were sighing and blushing dreamily as they listened to him. He had pulled his shirt out of his uniform breeches, showing off his toned stomach, where a fresh scar stood out, recently acquired on the Quidditch pitch during training.

The girls began to giggle in unison, Sebastian ran a hand through his perpetually ruffled brown hair and winked back at them with arrogance. As if he had suddenly felt Anne's gaze on him, he turned towards the entrance to the Great Hall and saw her approaching their table with a serious countenance - fear and anxiety reflected in equal measure in her expressive dark eyes. With a quick, nonchalant gesture, Sebastian tucked his shirt back into his breeches and simultaneously turned his back on the young ladies gathered around him to take a few steps towards the Troll Slayer.

"Red, what's wrong? You look like you've just seen a ghost..." He gently told her as he delicately took her hands in his to invite her to sit next to him, apart from the rest of their housemates.

"Yes, indeed. I've just come back from the Deathday Party Hall."

"And? Why have you been there?"

With trembling hands, Anne served herself a small portion of shepherd's pie. She absent-mindedly took a bite with her fork as she looked first at the rest of their table, then at the High Table.

"Where's Ominis?" She asked in a whisper as her heartbeat grew faster by the minute.

"Headmaster Black invited him to dine privately in his study. In truth, the invitation was also extended to his future Lady, except that she showed up terribly late for supper."

"Bloody Hell! That idiot Headmaster always gets in the way at the worst possible times!" Anne sighed with sudden weariness, then weakly shook her head. "I was late because I was summoned by the Bloody Baron to the Deathday Party Hall. Do you remember Richard Jackdaw?"

Sebastian snorted and shrugged.

"Vaguely. You mentioned him the very first time you told me the truth about Ancient Magic and the Map Chamber. He was the one who helped you find it, wasn't he?" His soft, enticing lips parted into a contented, vaguely seductive smile as a memory danced behind his eyes. "You were supposed to meet him the night you asked me to escort you to the Forbidden Forest. I thought you just wanted to spend time with me—just the two of us. In the end, you didn't dare ask me to take you to him, and you ended up falling asleep in my arms." His smile suddenly faltered, and Sebastian looked down, clearing his throat thoughtfully. "What did Richard Jackdaw want from you?"

"It seems that someone has discovered and ransacked Apollonia's old hideout. I don't know why, but I have a very bad feeling about this, Sebastian."

Sebastian remained silent for a moment. Slowly, he nodded his head and stood up, grabbing a goblet of pumpkin juice to drink in one gulp before offering both hands to the Keeper.

"Let's go then."

"It could be dangerous, Sebastian... Even if it was just a bunch of common thieves who found Apollonia's grotto, Selwyn's werewolves will surely be ready to ambush me if I dare to do something reckless like venturing to the shores of Black Lake after curfew."

"Dangerous? I laugh in the face of danger, red. You should know that." He winked at her, and a moment later his strong, calloused hands wrapped around her soft, delicate ones to pull her up from the bench as if she weighed little more than a feather. "Let's go and have a look, red. I sure as Hell won't leave you alone, sweetheart. Never."

Anne nodded sharply and swallowed loudly, then she shook her head with newfound determination. Sebastian placed a hand on the small of her back and silently guided her towards the exit of the Great Hall, where they would blend in with the students who were already retreating to their common rooms before slipping away casually and leaving the castle.

"How pleased Lord Gaunt will be to know that his best friend is sneaking off with his precious princess every time he isn't looking. Oops! He actually can't look, now that I think about it."

Violet's perpetually bored monotone voice failed to reach the ears of the lovely ginger and those of the Slytherin heartthrob as they quickly disappeared into the crowd, but Anne Sallow turned to listen to her wicked housemate with a deeply sad look on her face.

"Why do you always have to give people a reason to gossip behind your back and Ominis'? " She whispered to her empty plate, clenching her fists under the table as her brother and dear friend disappeared from view.

It didn't take long for the young snakes to reach the Black Lake.

It had been a dark day, the sky completely covered by eerie black clouds. Yet, despite this, it had not rained for several weeks, resulting in a particularly dry autumn.

Anne and Sebastian walked close to each other, huddling in their Slytherin robes in a vain attempt to fight off the chill of the evening. She held the ebony spiral high, lighting the way; he had his arm around her waist and held her close to him, alert to any noise that might suggest the presence of a creeping creature lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce.

"We have to swim a short distance to reach Apollonia's hideout." Anne said, illuminating the calm waters of the lake with her wand to make sure there were no hostile Dugbogs swimming nearby.

"Mmh, need my help to undress, red?"

Sebastian’s hands rested eagerly and playfully on Anne’s shoulders as if he wanted to slip her Slytherin robes off her.

"This is no time to act idiotic, Sebastian! Stay focused!"

"Oi! Red! How touchy! I was just trying to lighten the mood a little."

"Well, do you mind if we stay focused instead? I have a bad feeling about this, Sebastian—I already told you. And besides, do you think you can keep up with me and swim all the way over there?"

He snorted, rolled his eyes, and dove into the icy waters of Black Lake without hesitation, athletic and daring as ever. The Troll Slayer followed her companion, jumping quickly into the water herself and silently cursing the heavy garments of their uniforms that would surely weigh them down during the crossing. As they swam towards the inlet where the cave entrance was hidden, she swore, her voice drowning out the lapping of the water they were cutting with their strokes. Sebastian turned to her, laughing, unable to see her clearly in the darkness of the evening.

"Well? What's the matter, red? Did a crab sting you?"

"We don't have any toast! I could have taken some from the Great Hall!"

"Toast? What the Hell are you talking about? Have you hit your head?"

"We need it to get into Apollonia's hideout. Ah! Never mind."

"Don't worry, red. We'll think of something."

When they arrived at the cave entrance, however, they realised that the passageway to the hideout had already been opened.

Anne awkwardly approached to examine a slice of toast that had apparently recently been placed on the kraken's altar, trying to ignore the annoying way her long hair, wet from the lake water, stuck to her face and equally soaked clothes. With a cat-like leap, Sebastian stood in front of her, wand at the ready and teeth gritted.

"Watch out! Confringo!"

There was a snap of fingers and the fiery dart cast by the Slytherin heartthrob dissolved into thin air before colliding with its target.

"Mr Sallow should be more aware of his surroundings: he should think more and react less. Mr Sallow almost struck Scrope."

Scrope spoke calmly and yet sternly. The house-elf remained completely unperturbed, standing at the entrance to Apollonia's grotto and watching the new arrivals intently with his small blue eyes, which glistened as if veiled by tears.

"Scrope! You're here! " Anne exclaimed, rushing towards him while Sebastian scratched the back of his neck, muttering apologies with obvious embarrassment.

"Until today, Scrope had never disobeyed the orders of sweet Apollonia Black. Scrope had always respected her wishes and never intruded on his mistress' privacy, even after her death. But Scrope had to see this for himself..."

Scrope's solemn aura shattered the moment he fell to his knees, weeping desperately. His small, rag-covered body shook violently with sobs until Anne's arms tightened around him.

"Scrope is a loyal servant - the most loyal and reliable, in fact. Any master would be lucky to have Scrope." Anne whispered in his good ear, speaking as years of solitude spent in the sole company of house-elves had taught her. "Scrope will calm down now and show Anne Smith what happened, aye?"

Scrope nodded slowly and stood up, composing himself in an instant. He gently brought his hand to Anne's face and flashed a grimace that vaguely resembled a smile, then snapped his fingers to dry her hair and her Slytherin robes, completely ignoring Sebastian, who was still nervously scratching the back of his neck. The loyal servant of House Black took the Troll Slayer by the hand and led her inside what had once been the hideout of his mistress when she was still a young witch studying at Hogwarts.

Anne found everything very different from the last time she had been there - or rather, she found everything destroyed. Torn clothes and books were scattered around - every object that had once belonged to the unhappy couple of pureblood Slytherins had been trashed and carelessly thrown on the floor as if a hurricane had raged through. But clues scattered around the cave suggested that it wasn't a storm that had caused the mayhem, but a group of men and a large one at that. In the centre of the hideout lay the remains of what looked like a campfire. Apollonia's four-poster bed appeared to have been recently used and gave off a strong stench of wet dog, while the rest of the furniture had been destroyed without regard, like the other objects scattered around.

Strewn among the remains of the bonfire were charred bones of various sizes. Anne bent down to examine them more closely and try to figure out what creature they belonged to, but once she had knelt on the filthy floor, something else caught her attention: crumpled up among dust and charred bones was a letter that appeared to be a rough draft of a message that had probably been rewritten and sent by owl to its recipient.

- Theophilus,
we are about to abandon the cave where we have been camped for the last ten days in order to closely watch the ginger.
In a day's time, we will move into the depths of the Forbidden Forest: we have found it! We have located the entrance to the Map Chamber at the spot where those bumbling goblins tried to intercept the ginger just over a year ago.
In a few days, we will try and breach the Repository: with that power in our hands, breaking you out will be child's play, and then we will make the Wizarding World bow down at our feet.
In the meantime, enjoy the wine I'll have delivered to you by the same corrupt Auror who will hand you this letter.
Silvanus.
P.S. I've finally recovered from the nastier side effects of the bite: I'm tremendously strong now, but the post-bite healing was pure agony. You'd better wait until you're free to receive the bite, mate. You wouldn't survive the transformation surrounded by Dementors. –

"Fuck." Anne whispered, feeling the blood freeze in her veins while she read the message for the second time. "Fuck. Fuck! Fuck! Sebastian!"

Sebastian immediately knelt beside her and gently took the crumpled letter from her hands to read it. Behind him, Scrope leaned over to take a look himself.

"It would appear that your worst suspicions have been confirmed, red."

"Scrope, you must take us back to the castle immediately! I must—I must—fucking Hell! Fucking Hell!"

"Breathe. It’s all right, red. We'll stop them, I swear."

Sebastian wrapped his arms around Anne, helping her to her feet as she clung frantically to his Slytherin robes, still soaked with water. She was shaking like a leaf and her breathing had suddenly become heavy and laboured, as if she were on the verge of a panic attack. He pulled her closer, as he stroked her back with his strong hands. A few minutes passed like that, with Sebastian never stopping rubbing her back reassuringly; Anne's breathing gradually returned to normal and she calmed down completely when she felt Scrope's hand squeeze hers. She raised her head from Sebastian's wet chest to look into the eyes of the old house-elf, who was watching her with his usual solemn countenance.

"The vile thieves who trespassed upon sweet Apollonia's hideout were not seeking her valuables. These scoundrels want to rob Miss Smith of her power." He said in a whisper, almost as if it took effort to get the words out of his thin, wrinkled lips.

"I'm afraid so, Scrope..."

"Whatever Miss Smith has to do, Scrope will be by her side. Scrope gives his word."

"Scrope, I—I thank you for your loyalty. I know you are not bound to it. Or to me for that matter."

"Miss Smith is not Scrope’s mistress, but his friend. And loyalty is owed to friends too."

Sebastian nervously cleared his throat to get Anne's attention. She clung to his arms again as if she felt the ground slipping away beneath her feet, feeling his rippling biceps through the wet fabric of his Slytherin robes.

"Scrope, can you take us back to the castle? You can apparate at will, and it's best not to waste any more time here with those rogues on the loose."

Without wasting a second and without uttering a single word, Scrope touched the students and disapparated away with them.

Once they got to Hogwarts, Sebastian immediately breathed a sigh of relief at the thought of Anne being safe within the castle walls. He looked around, still holding her tightly in his arms, and his gaze fell on the familiar tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy and his dancing trolls.

"You've reached your destination, red." Murmured the Slytherin heartthrob with a sad smile, taking a step back and nervously running his right hand through his unruly mop of brown hair. "If I know the old bastard, he'll have come here to wait for you after being away all evening. Let your blond knight give you a cuddle, red."

"What about you?"

"I know the way to the common room, red. I'm not likely to get lost, don't worry."

Anne nodded weakly but remained motionless, her sad dark eyes fixed on the floor.

Scrope took her by the hand and pulled her towards the doorway of the Room of Requirement, which had already appeared before them and was just waiting to be entered. He glanced at Sebastian for support, and he smiled vaguely amused, placing his left hand on Anne's shoulder to give her a final word of encouragement.

"Sleep on it for now. Tomorrow, we'll think about what to do. You'll see, everything will be fine. We've been through so much together."

Anne sighed and forced herself to smile and nod with conviction. She waved goodbye to Sebastian, who replied with a flirtatious wink before turning his back on her and walking alone towards the dungeons. She slipped into the Room of Requirement without letting go of Scrope's hand, and once inside, she was immediately greeted by the sound she loved more than any other on the face of the Earth: Ominis' laughter.

The Heir of Slytherin was wearing a luxurious chamber robe fashioned from silver silk and was leaning against a bookcase while sipping a hot drink from a steaming cup he held in his hands. Evidently, Deek had just said or done something that Ominis found amusing, and his velvety laughter still echoed in Anne's private library.

Scrope gently let go of her hand, and she headed straight for her fiancé, blushing and smiling to herself when she saw him light up with joy the moment he heard her light footsteps moving in his direction.

"My love, there you are at last! Where have you been? I got here before you, and considering how long private suppers with Headmaster Black last, that's saying something!"

She didn't say a word, she just waited for him to put his tea cup down on the table and then threw herself into his arms.

Ominis' thin lips curved upwards into a pleased, playful smile; his mood was calm and relaxed, unaware as he was of the new threat that was beginning to loom over the life of his sweet beloved.

"Late as it is, would you like to play something for me before going to bed?" He asked, nodding towards the stairs to their left, which led down to Anne's private sitting room, where he had had the grand piano he had gifted her placed.

She weakly shook her head against his chest, still unable to speak, a blanket of mental fatigue seeming to weigh heavily on her soul.

"Mmh, you want to go straight to bed, love?" He murmured in her ear, voice suddenly hoarse as his hands slowly slid inside her Slytherin robes to cup her bottom and seductively pull her against his groin, unconcerned by the presence of the two servants. "In that case, I certainly won’t object, love. Do you need me to take care of you, darling?" He went on, greedily kissing her neck and capturing her left hand in his to make her feel his erection through his silk housecoat.

Still silent, she shook her head again and gently halted his movements to reject his advances, though she didn't take a single step away, letting him know that she wanted to remain held tightly in his embrace.

The Heir of Slytherin raised his eyebrows and took a step back to create some distance between his muscular thighs and the soft ones of his betrothed, so as not to overwhelm her with his erection. Then he slowly lowered his head to smell first the hair above her forehead, then her right temple, finally moving to her white throat where he left a chaste kiss on her erratic pulse.

"You're worried. What troubles you, my sweet love?" He gently asked, cradling her in his arms.

"I made a disturbing discovery tonight. There are many things I must tell you - that we must plan."

"Mmh, I see. We'd better get comfortable then."

Ominis tilted his head to one side thoughtfully, then he unceremoniously picked Anne up off the floor and began to make his way slowly and somewhat uncertainly towards the spiral staircase to the loft floor, holding her in his arms. Without the help of the chestnut stalk, the path of the blind serpent was rather bumpy, but in the end, he managed to carry his lovely ginger to their bed. He let his silk housecoat slip to the floor with a fluid, nonchalant gesture, then he lay down in bed naked, as he always did. When Anne joined him after quickly putting on a nightdress, Ominis welcomed her into his arms and began to caress her face with utmost tenderness, as he did whenever he used his hands as if they were a mirror or a pair of glasses that allowed him to see every detail of her expression.

"Ominis?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Touch my mind with yours, please. I feel too tired and upset to talk."

As delicate as a whisper in the wind, Ominis' mind caressed Anne's, and she let him see everything that had happened from the moment she had been approached by the Bloody Baron shortly before dinner. His sinewy body remained relaxed, his breathing steady, and the warmth emanating from his body as comforting as his scent, but she felt the burning anger that rose within him through Legilimency and was amazed once again by the sheer control the Heir of Slytherin exercised over his own emotions.

"You're angry." She noted, nestling her head more comfortably on his chest.

"I most certainly am. I burn every time I remember of the existence of those subhumans and the threat they pose to you, Anne."

"If only they knew how much they’ve pissed off the Heir of Slytherin, I think they’d choose to leave me alone. But from the way they act, they don't seem to realise that a Basilisk lives here, waiting only to kill in your name."

Ominis snorted with laughter and brushed Anne's lips lightly with his own.

"They underestimate the Keeper, after all. Why would they overestimate me?"

"They're idiots either way."

Ominis' anger was momentarily tempered by a silvery thread of amused approval that briefly swirled through Anne's head like a small snake slithering through a burning forest. The wrath of the Heir of Slytherin burned more fiercely for a moment, then gradually faded and gave way to an halo of calm determination, as if he had suddenly remembered that he was mentally connected to his betrothed and did not want to upset her more than necessary.

"I must act tomorrow, Ominis. I cannot wait any longer and perhaps it is already too late! Perhaps I should have gone there tonight!"

"No, you did well to come back to me. We will face this together, my love. It would have killed me to know you were out there alone—without me."

A wave of agonising anguish dug into Anne’s head for a moment, threatening to seize her heart with its icy touch before Ominis managed to control himself.

"I am here, my love. There is no need to think of ugly thoughts. We'll deal with this together tomorrow—you'll be by my side. And Scrope has sworn to help me too."

"Scrope? Very well. We'll plan a strategic course of action first thing tomorrow morning. We'll set out for the Forbidden Forest right after breakfast." He paused as a question formed at the edge of his mind, tickling her attention. "Do you want to involve the faculty—ask for help?"

"No! My mentors have always been clear about this: the Keepers’ affairs are for Keepers only. The faculty already knows enough; I don’t want to reveal anything further, such as the secondary access points to the Map Chamber, unless it is absolutely necessary. This is as much for their safety as it is for mine."

"So be it. We’ll skip classes and sneak out of the castle in secret, then."

"What about Sebastian? I don't want him to worry, and his help could be useful."

A wild spark of anxiety ignited in the recesses of Anne's mind and bounced to Ominis, who showered her with an enveloping sense of calm and safety to soothe her.

"If we have to be discreet, going alone gives us a better chance of not arousing suspicion among the faculty. Seeing only us missing, the professors will think—well, they'll think we're sneaking off to shag."

"Ominis!"

"What? It's the truth. And we'll let them think that. Sebastian will understand."

Anne closed her eyes and nodded against Ominis' chest, finding his logic irrefutable despite herself.

"Sleep now, my love. Rest and don't think about anything until tomorrow."

"You too. Sweet dreams, Ominis."

Ominis' consciousness slowly began to retreat from Anne's mind, but she chased after it, gently pulling at its edges with her thoughts just as she would have done with her hands, inviting him to stay with her. His hum of approval, constant and soothing as a cat's purr, made its way into her tired thoughts, lulling her into unconscious oblivion.

And so they lay, their minds intertwined as their bodies were, and despite everything, they slipped into a peaceful slumber.

It was only around five in the morning that Anne began to stir in her sleep, seized by a Vision as clear as day.

The Inner Eye, however, did not show her the Forbidden Forest, nor the secret entrance to the Map Chamber, nor even Selwyn's werewolves: what it showed her was the courtyard of the Beasts Classroom.

Judging by the yellow leaves strewn across the ground and the grey clouds massed in the sky, it seemed to be autumn—a cold, dry autumn, just like the one that had descended on the Highlands that year. Yet the Inner Eye was showing Anne a completely different time, and that was easy to understand since she was sitting behind the teacher's desk, and she was not wearing her Slytherin robes, but an elegant frock with long sleeves and a generous neckline. Around her neck was a pendant bearing the crest of Salazar Slytherin, which the young Seer thought she had seen before, perhaps in another Vision. The gaze of her adult self followed a stream of third-year students as they left the courtyard, kicking dry leaves and jostling each other; her left hand was gently caressing a small bump in her lower belly, making her signet ring sparkle with each stroke.

"Thank you for escorting us to the Forbidden Forest, Sebastian. I really wanted to introduce the Centaurs to this class, but I wouldn't have been able to supervise them all, not with the dangers lurking in the woods. And certainly not in my condition."

"What can I say? It's the same old story. The old bastard gets all the fun and I get all the trouble."

And there stood Sebastian Sallow, leaning nonchalantly against the teacher's desk.

Brooding countenance and perpetual swagger, the few lines around his eyes the only indication of his advancing years.

"I mean it, Sebastian." Anne said in a simultaneously amused and patient tone which seemed to be a product of motherhood. "You may teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, but that doesn't mean you have to take on every security task—"

"Oi, red." Sebastian interjected, leaning to loom over her and gently stroke her lower abdomen. "I would never have gotten this professorship if it weren't for you." The faculty heartthrob smiled as the hand of his colleague squeezed his, holding it tightly to the bump on her belly. "I've told you this time and time again, red. And I'll never tire of telling you. You saved me from ruin and gave me a new life—you gave me a career that would have made my poor parents so proud of me—may Merlin rest their souls in peace."

"Sebastian, I just gave you an idea—"

"Without you I would have died inside a catacomb at the age of fifteen. In fact, without you I would never even have got to the fucking catacomb in the first place! "

"Maybe that would have been better."

"My point is, I am nothing without you, red."

There was a faint, emotional babble of nonsense, then the sobbing wail of a delicate feminine voice followed by a baritone laugh.

"Oh, for fuck’s sake! The next time Lord Gaunt gets you pregnant, I swear I'll leave the Highlands for good. May Merlin spare me pregnant women and their bollocks!"

The Vision slowly faded away. Anne and Sebastian were still laughing hysterically in the distance as she playfully beat him up and called him an arsehole while disappearing into thin air: adult bodies inhabited by eternally young souls.

In the arms of the Heir of Slytherin, no lines around her eyes, the lovely ginger awoke wondering why—with all the dangers hanging over her head like Damocles' sword—the Inner Eye had shown her that particular Vision, on that particular night. With a sigh worthy of a cow, the young Seer snuggled her face into the crook of Ominis' neck and breathed in his scent, trying to fall back asleep as quickly as possible.

"I would have preferred something less bucolic and more useful." She muttered, as if her Inner Eye could hear her.

Finally, following nearly two months of drought, rain fell on the Highlands, welcomed as a blessing.

Although the clouds in the sky were pitch black threatening lightning and thunder, they poured nothing but a light drizzle on the land, too light to even wet the dry soil of woods and fields. A mist had risen at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and the silence of the woods was complete, broken only by the occasional call of a lone bird.

It was ten minutes before nine in the morning when Anne, Ominis and the faithful servant of House Black cautiously crossed the edge of the forest to step into the near-unnatural stillness of the autumn woods. Raindrops filtering through the branches of the trees settled on the silvery, warm surface of the Shield Charm on which Ominis was focusing his concentration, pointing his trusty sentient wand towards the sky like an umbrella while letting Anne cling to him and guide him along the path with circumspection.

For nearly two hours, the young Slytherins searched in vain for the werewolves' camp.

The Troll Slayer remembered the arrogance and disregard for discretion that had marked the Ashwinders' behaviour during their alliance with Ranrok's forces: just a year prior, Rookwood's men had occupied the Highlands as if they feared no retaliation from the authorities of the Wizarding World. They had always camped freely in areas that were not particularly hidden or isolated - numerous, loud, conspicuous. Now it almost felt like they were on a ghost hunt. The Ashwinders seemed to have passed through those woods without leaving a trace.

The Keeper's plan was to first search for her enemies' camp in the hope that they had not yet moved to the secret cave that gave access to the Map Chamber. It would have been ideal to find them in time to ambush them and handle the fight as far away as possible from the places where they could break through and target the Repository. Unfortunately, everything seemed to suggest that Harlow's werewolves had already taken action, thwarting Anne's attempt to engage them far from the Keepers' cave. And that wasn't all: the Ashwinders had indeed left absolutely no trace of their passage, making it impossible to determine how much ground they had covered or the exact number of their forces.

Anne sighed, staring around her with a dejected look. Her long ginger hair, tousled by the wind and damp with humidity, combined with the breadcrumbs stuck to the corners of her mouth—a testimony of the toast Scrope had made her for breakfast—made her look more like a poor, lost beggar than a fierce warrior.

"Scrope has found something. Miss Smith should have a look."

The calm, solemn voice of the old house-elf roused Anne from her stupor. She turned to her right to find him bent over a bush at the root of which a pool of blood seemed to have dried.

"The remains of a dead boar." She observed, stooping down to peer beyond the bush. "Or rather, the remains of a mauled boar - ah!" Anne jumped up, putting her hand to her mouth and cursing her stupidity.

"What?! What did you see, my love?!" Ominis asked, trying not to raise his voice despite the excitement of the moment.

"When were the last nights of full moon?! Yesterday and the day before? Good heavens, I didn’t even check before leaving the castle last night! Foolish idiot!"

Sudden realisation flashed in Ominis’ blind blue eyes.

"The Ashwinders haven't set up camp, they've been reverting to their animal form during the nights of the full moon. That means..."

"It means I was lucky to discover their plans just in time to foil them. But I must act now! If yesterday was the last day of the full moon, that means they've had two whole days to explore the area in their animal form, and today they'll strike!" Speaking quickly and moving just as quickly, Anne took Ominis by the hand and motioned for Scrope to follow her. "Quick, this way! We're not far from the secondary entrance to the Map Chamber."

Nimbly, the Keeper led her companions to the spot where the gloomy trees of the Forbidden Forest thinned around the small lake populated by deer and Giant Purple Toads.

"Stop!" She whispered once the old, battered birdbath came into view.

Anne let go of Ominis’ hand and advanced cautiously, leaving him a few steps behind with the house-elf.

"Quietus." She whispered, carefully drawing Salazar Slytherin’s wand.

After a moment's hesitation, she flicked her wrist again to cast a Disillusionment Charm and then advanced towards her target, enveloped in a bubble of silence and invisibility. When she was close enough to the birdbath, she saw to her horror that the stone wall concealing the entrance to the cave had recently been blown up.

"Can you hear them? "

Anne jumped and spun around; she opened her mouth to scream, but her Quietening Charm completely muffled the sound. Blushing partly from fright and partly from embarrassment, the Slytherin girl dissolved the cloaking charms she had cast on herself and bent over on her knees to catch her breath.

"Dorran, don't get me wrong, I'm happy to see you, but how on Earth did you manage to sneak up behind me like that?"

The old centaur was standing a few steps away from Anne with some of his companions. The guardians of the forest were listening intently, standing so still that their silhouettes, largely concealed by the darkness of the forest and the mist still rising from the ground, had escaped the Keeper's eye.

"Can you hear them?" Dorran asked again, skipping the pleasantries.

"I can." Replied Ominis, who had meanwhile come up beside Anne and wrapped his arm protectively around her waist, tilting his head towards the pile of rocks where the werewolves had broken through.

At first, she couldn't hear anything, but then, closing her eyes and straining to concentrate, she managed to pick up faint sounds of fighting coming from deep within the cave. Although muffled by the distance, male voices were clearly distinguishable, alternating between barking orders and screaming in desperation.

"It would appear that the Ashwinders have encountered trouble." Murmured Ominis, holding the chestnut stalk pointed in front of him, his thin lips stretched into a hint of a smile. "Good news, ey?"

"This place is crawling with young Acromantulas. That could work in our favour." Anne shortly explained. "Dorran?" She then called, turning back to her centaur friend. "Get out of here, my friend. I’ll take care of this threat."

"Don't you want our help, fiery-hair?"

"No, not this time. Get away from here – and get the animals that live around here away too, if you can. Don't worry about me." Anne's left hand sought Ominis' to intertwine her fingers with his without taking her eyes off the herd of centaurs. "As you can see, I already have all the help I need."

There were snorts and low whinnies that seemed to express agreement, or at least acceptance, then the sound of hooves on damp soil as the guardians of the forest quickly trotted away from the Keeper.

"Scrope?" She called. "Once we're inside, we'll find ourselves in an underground cave that opens onto a deep gorge. You'll have to apparate us right at the bottom of the gorge – you'll have a bridge as a marker. Agreed?"

Ever composed and seemingly impassive, Scrope nodded without saying a word and took his place at Anne's side, standing but a step behind her, just as he would have done in the presence of his master.

"Good. I'll take care of the rest."

With measured steps, without letting go of Ominis' hand and acutely aware of Scrope's presence behind her, she crossed the blasted entrance to the cave, closing it behind them with an elegant flick of her wand that rearranged and reassembled the shattered stones to form an impenetrable wall. With a swift, firm gesture, almost as if she were wielding a sword rather than a wand, the Keeper plunged the tip of the ebony spiral into the wall she had just erected and conjured a burst of Ancient Magic that seemed to electrify the stone, creating five consecutive waves of bluish energy that spread across the wall in every direction.

"Now this entrance is forever sealed, as if the passage created by my mentors had never existed." She said, glancing quickly at her work as the screeching of the spiders and the screams of Harlow’s men grew louder, echoing off the cold walls of the cave and bouncing in all directions.

"Once I've sealed the other passage, the only way out will be through disapparition. And if the spiders aren't enough to make Selwyn retreat, I'll see to it myself."

Behind them, much closer than the other sounds, a hysterical scream suddenly rang out, accompanied by the clatter of heavy leather boots on stone. A man dressed in Ashwinders colours was running like a maniac in the hope of finding his way out of the deathtrap, having evidently abandoned his comrades; behind him, a huge, hissing Thornback Matriarch was chasing him on long hairy legs.

"No, fuck!" Shouted the man, finding his path blocked.

A moment later, he had disapparated away, and the Thornback Matriarch turned her attention to Anne.

She didn't even have time to react: just as the young Acromantula leapt to attack her, Ominis stood in front of her with confidence and cool blood.

"Depulso! Confringo!"

A moment later, the Thornback Matriarch was thrown onto her back, licked by explosive flames that would kill her in a few moments of burning agony. Anne watched the huge arachnid screech and thrash, raising an eyebrow and then letting a smile slip.

"Gaunt, my hero!" She chanted, standing on tiptoe and leaning against his strong shoulders to kiss him on the cheek.

However, the expression on her face immediately turned serious when Silvanus Selwyn's thunderous voice came from below.

"COWARDS! HOLD YOUR GROUND! PUSH FORWARD, YOU FILTHY DOGS - THE PASSAGE MUST BE HERE SOMEWHERE!"

"THERE ARE TOO MANY OF THEM, SILVANUS! THERE ARE - ARGH!"

Anne and Ominis sprang forward in unison to reach out their hands to Scrope.

"Quick, Scrope! Take us to the bottom of the gorge!" She urged.

The small hands of the rag-clad creature grasped those of the young Slytherins without hesitation. Anne closed her eyes and opened them again a moment later to find herself looking up at the cave from below, at the deepest recess of the gorge. Beneath her feet, covered in cobwebs and haemolymph, lay the bridge held up by the Ancient Magic cast by her mentors long before. After tossing a quick glance over her shoulder, she drew her wand and pointed it without hesitation at the massive golden door set into the rock face.

"Depulso!"

A wave of blue light accompanied the pulse that reverberated through the air, throwing the doors open with such force that they were torn from their hinges. The power of her own shockwave almost knocked her off balance, shaking Anne's thin, toned legs until she was forced to take a step back to absorb the recoil.

"Ominis, Scrope, get behind me! Get ready to run towards those doors. " She shouted, turning her back to the golden door again.

A large group of young Acromantulas – too many to count – had begun to descend from the top of the gorge, dangling from long strands of thick cobweb to identify the source of the sudden commotion. Without flinching, Anne closed her eyes and pointed Salazar Slytherin's wand upwards, taking a few moments to find her concentration, clear her head and connect with the Basilisk horn pulsing with tremendous power in the palm of her hand. Channelling Ancient Magic within herself to fuel one of the darkest and most deathly product of the Dark Arts, she opened her eyes anew and held her breath.

"Pestis Incendium!"

A devilish screech rose from the ebony spiral, followed by a wave of infernal heat that preceded the eruption of an endless tongue of fire that shot upwards several metres, forming a wide spiral before finally taking shape.

It was not the first time Scrope had witnessed the summoning of a Fiendfyre, but it was certainly the first time he had felt terrified in its presence.

Considering that every Fiendfyre was, by definition, the perfect combination of hatred and thirst for destruction, the one summoned by Anne Smith was annihilation incarnate. Animated by blue flames like those that sparkled from her wand every time she cast a spell, a gargantuan, demonic-looking serpent was coming to life with the sole purpose of enveloping everything in its burning coils and destroying all that stood in its path.

"Let's go! Run!" Anne shouted, turning abruptly without lingering on the glorious and horrifying vision of her dark invocation. "Quick! We have to go! Now!"

She grabbed Ominis and Scrope by the hand and ran towards the golden doors with all her might.

The Heir of Slytherin stumbled as he ran but managed to stay on his feet thanks to his sweet companion, while the evil, diabolical screech of the Fiendfyre pierced his eardrums, causing him to tremble with both fright and pride at the thought that his sweet fiancée had managed to conjure up that thing thanks to his teachings.

Acromantulas and boulders began to fall from the sky like fiery confetti as the Fiendfyre raged, flailing its gigantic coils fuelled by hellfire.

"FIENDFYRE! FIENDFYRE!" The Ashwinders screamed in panic. "WHO SUMMONED IT?!"

"IDIOTS!" Silvanus Selwyn’s voice thundered above the others from the recesses of the cave. "THE GINGER IS HERE!"

"Come on! Come on!" Anne urged, sweating from the effort of pushing her legs to the limit while helping Ominis keep up with her.

"Let's close the doors!" He suggested, panting.

"No! The Fiendfyre shall consume this place and destroy that arch over there after we pass through it."

Anne stopped in front of the dusty marble arch erected centuries ago by her mentors and reactivated only a year prior by herself. She allowed herself merely a moment to cast one last glance around, her gaze resting on the poor remains of Richard Jackdaw and the shattered stone of the ancient golems she herself had felled. Then she strode resolutely towards the marble arch, dragging Ominis and Scrope with her.

On the other side, cold and silent, the Map Chamber awaited them.

The four Keepers moved in perfect synchrony to gaze down at the newcomers from their frames, but none of them spoke. Anne clung tightly to Ominis and hid her face in his chest, feeling her cheeks burn with shame.

In the two months since the start of the new academic year, she had not visited her mentors even once.

Not even once!

She could have lied to herself and said she had been very busy with her studies, but the truth was quite different. What had taken the Fifth Keeper's attention away from the Map Chamber was the ‘re-discovery’ of Slytherin's Scriptorium, where the power and knowledge of one of the Founders resided. It was there, in the shadow of Salazar's spectre, that she had honed her knowledge of Ancient Magic over the past few months. And now, she would have to account for this to her mentors without risking offending them or arousing suspicion about the nature of her ambitions. Not to mention the fact that she was about to give them some news that was, to say the least, grave regarding the security of the Repository.

In the arms of the Heir of Slytherin, the lovely ginger began to shiver with nervousness and the adrenaline that still coursed through her body.

"Are you all right, my love? You're not hurt, are you?"

Ominis' velvety voice immediately breathed some courage into her, and Anne looked up from his chest, letting out a small smile at the sight of his soft blond hair, dishevelled - for once - from the mad dash they had just endured.

"I should be the one to ask you if you’re all right. It’s a miracle you didn’t sprain your ankle, seeing how I yanked you just now."

"Thankfully, I rather enjoy being roughed up by you, Smith."

They laughed in unison, softly. He lowered his head to rest his forehead against hers, and they remained like that for a moment, catching their breath, until Scrope tugged at the hem of Anne's Slytherin robes to get her attention.

"Scope must retire to the master's study. Scrope must punish himself for the lost work time and then get back to service. Master will be terribly worried about Scrope."

"Go on, my friend." Whispered the Troll Slayer, feeling a painful twinge in her heart at the thought of what the house-elf was about to inflict upon himself.

With a snap of his fingers, Scrope vanished, leaving the Slytherin couple in the presence of the Keepers.

"Come, my love. After all this time, you will finally meet my mentors." Whispered Anne somewhat sheepishly as she took Ominis by the hand once more to lead him towards the imposing portraits hanging on the opposite side of the chamber.

Upon reaching the Keepers, she quickened her pace, leaving him behind, then she dropped to one knee with her head bowed in respect.

"Come now, child—there’s no need for such formality. Rise from the ground."

"Professor Rackham, I don’t know how to begin to apologise for my absence—"

"You might start by justifying said ‘absence’, child. And perhaps it would be appropriate to make introductions as well."

Percival Rackham shifted his gaze to Ominis, raising his thick grey eyebrows without managing to hide the curiosity and delight reflected in his kind dark eyes, despite his obvious efforts to maintain a stern demeanour towards his elusive pupil.

Anne quickly stood up and stepped beside her blond knight, allowing him to chastely wrap his right arm around her waist. A radiant smile lit up her face and a slight blush coloured her cheeks as she placed a hand on his chest, moved by obvious pride.

"My most esteemed mentors, I am delighted to introduce you to my betrothed, Ominis Gaunt."

"And so you have finally brought the Heir of Slytherin before us." Began Charles Rookwood, twisting his small mouth into a subtle smile halfway between welcoming and wary. "Our dear Miss Smith has informed us that her hand has been pledged to you in marriage, young Lord. She has also told us that the two of you are bound by true love – a most joyous circumstance and by no means a given, considering your noble birth."

"I do love her more than my own life, sir." Ominis replied without hesitation, standing beside Anne in all his noble handsomeness and impeccable poise.

"And will you share with her the heavy burden she carries on her shoulders? Are you willing to take on her duties as Keeper as well as your marital obligations?"

"As long as I live. It is an honour for me to be at the side of such an extraordinary witch. I will protect her and this place with my life, I so swear."

The loving smile on Anne's face grew even broader, but faltered as soon as her gaze fell on the canvas of Niamh Fitzgerald. The Headmistress of old was looking at the Fifth Keeper and her betrothed with a sternness that barely concealed open hostility.

Perfect as ever, starting with the intricate hairstyle that gathered her long blonde hair, she seemed intent on judging Ominis as if she feared that something dark was hidden behind his words.

"Beautiful words, young Lord. Beautiful words indeed. Yet I cannot help but remind my colleagues that the Serpent is notoriously deceitful and tempting by nature, and that chance would have it that our pupil has strayed from us." Said the fair Ravenclaw, confirming Anne's suspicion and making her knees tremble with anxiety and shame at being discovered. "Can we truly trust the Heir of Slytherin and believe that he does not intend to lead our Keeper astray with the twisted ideals of his ill-fated lineage?" She asked without paraphrasing, as if her sharp raven brain had already reached the right conclusions, imagining Anne willing to set aside their teachings in favour of the knowledge of the most ambitious Founder.

"Headmistress Fitzgerald, I would be willing to face another hundred deadly Trials to prove to you once again where my loyalty lies. And in the name of this, I ask you not to doubt my judgement, much less the good nature of my betrothed."

Anne took a hesitant step forward, then lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders with resolve to tell her mentors everything that had happened since her chat with Richard Jackdaw inside the Deathday Party Hall. She lowered her head only when Headmistress Fitzgerald reprimanded her yet again for not reporting her very first encounter with the werewolves almost a month earlier.

"The Fiendfyre I summoned will raze the cave to the ground and melt everything inside it with its flames. I suppose the Ashwinders will have disappareted to save themselves, but the access to the Map Chamber that had been breached is now destroyed and useless." The fair ginger declared at the end of her speech, her expressive dark eyes darting frantically from one canvas to another in search of approval. "I have done my duty – I have successfully defended the Repository, and my sweet Ominis has been by my side the whole time."

"Personally, I do not doubt the integrity of your young Lord, Miss Smith. Nor do I doubt yours. Perhaps Niamh has been too harsh—I believe she is simply concerned that you may turn away from us in favour of a mentor who, unlike his Heir, knows no path other than that of cruelty and pain." San Bakar finally spoke up, his face darkened by the same apprehension that had clouded those of his colleagues in the face of the dreadful revelations made by their young champion.

"I would never, Professor Bakar! I am curious, certainly, and ambitious, undoubtedly. But, from Slytherin to Slytherin, can you blame me? My loyalty to our cause is absolute, and at the end of the day, that's all that matters."

"Mm, unquestionably."

"Professor Rackham?" Anne then called, turning her attention to the old Seer. "With your permission, I shall hasten to sabotage the access points to the Map Chamber located at the Trial sites. After all, they no longer serve any purpose and are merely a liability."

"Let us wait before making any rash moves, my dear child. It is one thing to raze the interior of an old cave to the ground, but quite another to waste our resources—fortresses that are steeped in Ancient Magic and may find a new purpose should you wish to avail yourself of them in the future."

"With all due respect, there are places where the Ashwinders will certainly head, such as Rookwood Castle—"

"The Repository at my former residence has already been drained, Miss Smith. And if those werewolves find my labyrinth, they will die inside it without being able to summon Ancient Magic to tamper with it. Percival is right: let us not make any rash moves." Professor Rookwood decreed, bringing the conversation to a close. "You have done well today, Keeper. Rejoice in that." He added with sincere admiration and gratitude.

Anne bowed her head and closed her eyes briefly, accepting the praise with pride, however concise it was.

"What would you like me to do, then?"

"Watch over the Trial sites without drawing attention to yourself. We will wait for events to unfold naturally, remaining on high alert for the time being."

"As you wish." Anne replied, curtsying one last time before turning and taking Ominis by the hand to finally lead him out of the Map Chamber.

"One last thing, Miss Smith." Called the fair Ravenclaw from her frame. "From now on, until further notice, we expect to see you here daily to resume your training as a Keeper."

The witches looked into each other's eyes in silence for a long moment.

Finally, Anne sighed deeply and nodded, forcing a smile. Deep down, she understood the Keepers' fear of losing her after the blunder they had made with Isidora Morganach: if Anne Smith were to fall and give herself over to the Dark Arts, there would be no one to oppose her, and the Wizarding World would have no choice but to bow down to her.

Her rosy lips curved downwards in a grimace that was as disappointed as it was sad as she walked through the gate to the castle cellars, but they immediately stretched into a happy - if slightly guilty - smile when she turned to look at Ominis, silent and thoughtful at her side.

"My love, I'm so sorry for the way Headmistress Fitzgerald welcomed you."

"I'm used to prejudice, you know."

"Aye, prejudice is a curious thing. It is said that Helga Hufflepuff was a kind, generous witch, which is probably why no one sees her descendants for the greedy, heartless toffs they have become."

Ominis did not reply, merely making a sound from the back of his throat that sounded very much like a murmur of brooding approval. Pointing the chestnut stalk in front of him, he scanned the Bell Tower, tilting his head to one side with a frown. Then he stopped and pulled Anne close, letting out a soft chuckle when he felt her delicate hands cling to his white shirt, lightly brushing his sinewy stomach.

"Considering the silence of the Bell Tower, I'd say we're late for supper." He murmured in her ear, trying to ignore his hunger pangs. "And considering the ‘exciting’ day we've had, it would be wise to retire to the Room of Requirement and rest. Deek will surely have fixed something for us to eat. "

"I'd rather we head to the Slytherin common room. Sebastian will be frantic... He must have been on the verge of a nervous breakdown all day!"

"All right, then. Let's get to him before the adrenaline rush runs out and we're completely drained of energy."

Silently, the Slytherin couple made their way along the semi-deserted halls of the castle until they reached the dungeons. Once they had descended into the snake pit, Anne spotted Sebastian sprawled on the sofa in front of the fireplace and she immediately ran over to him.

The Slytherin heartthrob was keeping his arms crossed over his chest, his countenance dark; the blaze in the fireplace created a play of light and shadow on his face that only accentuated his sombre expression. He looked like a stone gargoyle, so consumed by his obsessive thoughts that he had created a bubble of negativity around himself, keeping his housemates away. When Ominis sat down in the comfortable armchair to Sebastian's right inviting Anne to take a seat on his lap, the sulking lad stiffened even more and he nervously ran a hand through his soft brown hair as if to mask his discomfort.

"So you're still alive. Good to know." He muttered, feigning nonchalance and failing miserably.

"Sebastian, I'm terribly sorry for worrying you today. We had to act this way to avoid arousing suspicion. I don't want to involve the faculty for now, and Ominis thought it best—"

"Oh, is that so, Ominis?! Is that the lie you came up with to exclude me, you possessive bastard? You'd rather be outnumbered than let her rely on me?!"

Sebastian had suddenly raised his voice, drawing some quizzical stares in their direction. He leaned towards his best friend, baring his teeth like a rabid dog and spitting out the senseless accusations he had come up with during the day as paranoia mounted inside him.

Anne felt her heart sink, her despair intensified by the fatigue and fears that were stirring inside her following the clash within the cave. She felt physically ill every time Ominis and Sebastian argued—every time the heads of the Runespoor became restless and their balance was lost. She had deluded herself into thinking that the lads had left certain rivalries and jealousies behind them, but she had to think again when Ominis' hand tightened possessively about her hip as he leaned towards Sebastian with the same furious scowl etched on his face and a flash of hatred shooting from his blind blue eyes.

"Come again?! What did you say, you arsehole?! Do you honestly think I would gamble with Anne’s safety on a whim dictated by jealousy? Look in the mirror, Sebastian: that’s who you are, not who I am."

"Oi! Stop it, both of you! And lower your voices, for Merlin’s sake!" Anne snapped in a harsh whisper, slapping hard at Ominis' hand on her hip and shooting Sebastian a glare charged with disappointment. "After what I've been through today and with the new, horrific threats looming on the horizon, I sure as Hell don't need this shite! Where does this bollocks come from, Sebastian? And you, Ominis? Go ahead, raise your voice—you wish to pee on me to make it clearer who I belong to?"

Sebastian sighed heavily and placed a hand on his heart as if trying to rub it to calm its beating and dispel the tension.

"Sorry, red. I spent the day consumed by fear that something had happened to you, not understanding why you hadn't come looking for me. I must have been imagining things and now I fucked up." He paused and glanced at Ominis before mumbling a few words of apology addressed to him.

The Heir of Slytherin shook his head and his thin lips curved upwards into a sincere smile aimed at his friend.

"Don't worry, mate. I'm sorry if we gave you cause for concern. It was the safest way to skip classes without arousing suspicion among the faculty, since Anne doesn't want to involve them in this nasty affair for now." His hand tightened again on the hip of the lovely ginger wrapped in his coils, but this time his gesture was delicate and gentle, almost apologetic. "Forgive me, my love. I shouldn't have raised my voice."

Anne lovingly placed her hand on his and turned an equally loving gaze towards Sebastian.

She gave a detailed account of the way she had been forced to raze the cave connected to the Map Chamber, answering all the questions of the Slytherin heartthrob, which proved to be as pressing and inquisitive as those asked by her mentors.

It was with slow, shuffling steps that she finally dragged herself to the girls' dormitory when they were done talking, vaguely registering in the back of her mind Ominis' velvety voice asking Sebastian if his sister had already gone to bed, a question he could not answer.

"Good morning, Anne! Happy Hallowe'en! Did you enjoy your breakfast? You'll need energy for your first Apparition class!"

"What are you doing here, Amit?"

"What do you mean, what am I doing here? At the age of seventeen, I'll have to get my licence like everyone else so I can disapparate freely! And I can't do that without taking the course offered by the Ministry of Magic."

Anne Smith was standing in the middle of the Bell Tower Courtyard, a little apart from the other students gathered there waiting for the first Apparition class to begin.

The autumn chill was biting, the clouds in the sky black, but since rain wasn't falling, the instructor assigned by the Ministry of Magic had preferred to set up the temporary Windows for Apparition practice outdoors rather than inside the Great Hall.

Anne blew on her hands to try and warm them up, then proceeded to rub them together vigorously before finally tucking them into her pockets and turning her attention back to Amit.

"You know exactly what I mean, Amit. You already know how to apparate. You could just take the licence exam next year, you don't need to attend the course starting this year."

"You seem to forget that I'm born in May, same as you. I could get my licence before summer if I take a few lessons first. And anyway, it's always best to practise and study more before taking an important exam!"

"Oh, Merlin! You want to play the part of the prodigy who disapparates at the first try, don't you? You're here to show off with the instructor from the Ministry of Magic, of course! You bloody idiot, Amit."

At those words, Amit, confirming Anne's intuition, turned red as a tomato and shook his head so emphatically that his greasy, raven-black hair became a mess.

The two friends began to tease each other, making such a racket that they drew the attention of the other students.

"Unbelievable! You can even make uptight Amit Thakkar lose his composure! Your talents are boundless indeed, Smith." Everett chimed in, hiding the amused twinkle dancing in his dark eyes behind his round glasses.

"Given the glaring mistake the Sorting Hat has clearly made with you, Clopton, some of us have to work three times as hard to maintain Ravenclaw's standards high."

"Some of us, Thakkar, believe that honing one's intelligence and cultivating one's culture should be an opportunity to improve oneself, not a performance for others."

Anne rolled her eyes so hard that they nearly rolled back into their sockets from the effort. Having no desire whatsoever to get involved in the squabbles of the Ravenclaw boys, she tried to slip away from them in small steps while pretending to be terribly interested in the elaborate Hallowe'en decorations that the house-elves had set up throughout the Bell Tower Courtyard.

Amit and Everett had never gotten along, as far as Anne knew; they seemed to share the same passion for study but with diametrically opposed approaches to academic life. They were considered by the entire teaching staff to be the best students Hogwarts had seen in recent years, and it certainly didn't help that they were two lads of the same age sorted into the same House. Although Amit was not the kind of boy at the mercy of his own hormones and eager to compete with other lads at all costs, rivalry with Everett had been inevitable, especially because Professor Weasley had chosen his bespectacled housemate over him as tutor for Natsai Onai at the beginning of the fourth year.

Said bespectacled Ravenclaw turned cheerfully to Anne before she could casually walk away.

"You're here for the first Apparition class too, Smith? How lovely! And where did you leave Gaunt?"

"Oh, Ominis is still attending Magical Theory. I—well, frankly, I didn't feel like attending that class anymore, so when I heard I could already take this course, well..." Anne felt her heartbeat suddenly quicken as wet tears formed in her eyes at the memory of silver hair and piercing blue eyes. "Anyway, neither he nor Sebastian could take this class starting this year."

"Ah, right. Natty has to wait until next year too. Since we're both alone, do you want to pair up with me during practice today?"

"Bah! Don't be silly, Clopton! Anne will pair up with me!" Amit exclaimed outraged.

But mischief was already sparkling in Anne's eyes as her rosy lips stretched into a smirk that was as amused as it was mocking, anticipating the opportunity to taunt her friend, which he himself had handed her on a silver platter. Amit watched her as she opened her mouth to reply, and he knew her well enough to predict, with a good deal of annoyance, the utter bollocks she was about to spout for the sole purpose of vexing him.

"Oh, Amit, but that's just not possible! You're too bloody clever to pair up with me! I'd only slow you down, and I couldn't bear that!" Said the Troll Slayer with overdramatic theatricality. "I'd be happy to pair up with you, Clopton. Or may I call you Everett?"

Amit crossed his arms and nervously tapped his right foot on the ground, looking like someone who had made a mistake and knew exactly what was coming. Tall and lanky, he suddenly threw his arms up in the air in vexation, muttering, "Bah! Serves me right—I should have known you wouldn't miss a chance to take the piss! But don't come crying to me when that incompetent Clopton gets you splinched, you idiot!"

And that was the essence of Anne Smith and Amit Thakkar's friendship: an endless string of teasing and name-calling, somewhere between jest and honesty. They were such different people that one could say they had nothing in common with each other, yet they had grown to like one another, and they had learned to express their affection in their own peculiar way. Anne teased Amit - sometimes harshly - at every opportunity, and he would treat her with disdain and indifference more often than not, almost as if he genuinely thought she was a dimwit. Weeks could go by when their only interaction consisted of theatrical eye rolls when they passed each other in the castle hallways, yet both knew in their hearts that they would cut off an arm for each other if circumstances demanded it.

The Troll Slayer was still giggling, holding her stomach from the effort, while her Ravenclaw friend turned his back on her in annoyance, looking for someone else to pair up with for the lesson. Meanwhile the Apparition instructor swiftly walked over to them to introduce herself to the class and begin the lesson.

The Ministry of Magic had sent to Hogwarts a young woman with long brown curls and bright green eyes, who seemed as excited about her new assignment as her students were to finally try their hand at Apparition. After a quick round of questions to make sure the young wizards and witches had been studying the theoretical part of the course over the summer – during which Amit nearly sprained his arm trying to get attention so he could recite the Three D's of Apparition – the instructor arranged a series of small wooden hoops on the ground, very close together, to begin some basic practice exercises.

"Oh! Oh! Incredible! Have you seen that, ma'am? I never thought I could do it!" Amit exclaimed ridiculously theatrically after successfully disapparating from one hoop to another on his first attempt and without the slightest effort.

If the young Ministry of Magic employee suspected that Amit had practised Apparition illegally before attending her course, she did not show it, merely giving him a brief round of applause and awarding points to Ravenclaw.

"Finally, this is it! I’m going to learn how to apparate too, and I won’t have to rely on anyone else anymore. I’ll be independent and free!" Anne thought excitedly as she leaned out from the line of students waiting in front of the wooden hoops to watch the Gryffindor boy who was about to attempt the exercise.

There was a horrible sound of tearing flesh, followed by raucous laughter.

"Oh, bugger! I must have left a slice of my arse behind!" Cried the lad in between laughs, seemingly unconcerned and only vaguely pained as a small pool of blood dripped from the back of his Gryffindor robes and soaked the earth.

The Apparition instructor promptly intervened, sending the injured student to the Infirmary; the lesson resumed immediately afterwards as if nothing had happened. Anne, however, had gone from a state of happy euphoria to one of restless anxiety.

"Oh, Merlin! What if I'm not good enough? What if I end up splinching something?!" She wondered in panic as the queue in front of her moved forward. "What if I lose an eyebrow? An eye? A tit! Oh, Merlin, I could lose a tit! Or a lock of my gorgeous hair!" She raved, breaking out in a cold sweat as her vanity coupled with her insecurity greatly magnified her fears. "No, no, no! It's just not possible—I can't risk spending Ominis' birthday in the Infirmary, crippled by a failed spell!"

Like the most stubborn of mules, the mighty Keeper stood her ground in front of the starting hoop, shaking her head furiously in refusal as her long plait of ginger hair whipped the air behind her like the tail of a nervous cat. Seeing the reckless Troll Slayer falter, many other students refused to continue with the exercise, and in the end, Anne's foolish fear cost Slytherin twenty points when the Ministry of Magic employee finally lost her patience.

"That was a pitiful spectacle, Smith—I mean it! I’ve seen you slaughter bloodthirsty goblins with my own eyes, how could a splinched arse possibly faze you so much?" Amit remarked with a touch of smugness at the end of the lesson.

As the various morning classes drew to a close, all the students who had participated in the Apparition course were streaming towards the entrance of the Bell Tower to head to the Great Hall for lunch.

Anne stood behind, humiliated and disappointed by that inexplicable surge of anxiety that had tied her stomach in knots at the thought of splinching. After all, Amit was right: she had faced far worse dangers! Yet, the idea of ending up in the Infirmary with an arm or a foot to be reattached to her body had shocked her to the point of stripping her of all enthusiasm for the new class.

"Fuck you, Amit." Anne growled through clenched teeth, lowering her head to try and hide the torrential tears that were already marking her face.

Something softened deep within Amit's sweet hazel eyes. Instinctively, he brought his hand up towards Anne's face, then stopped halfway, nervously clenching and unclenching his fingers as if unsure as to what to do with them. A moment later, the dark skin of his hand brushed against the pale one of her cheeks to dry them.

"It's not your fault. It's the teacher who's inexperienced. Her lesson seemed almost improvised."

"Oh, and I bet you think yourself a far better teacher. Tsk, idiot."

"That's right! And if you pair up with me during the next lesson, I'll prove it to you. Idiot."

Anne let out a giggle and immediately wrinkled her nose in an attempt to suppress it and give her Ravenclaw friend a scornful look. She failed miserably and simply stared at him affectionately, trying to show him that she appreciated his attempt to comfort her without having to say it out loud.

"I'm dying with boredom at the mere thought of pairing up with you." She said instead.

"Oh, well, take some time to think about it. In the meantime, shall we head to the Great Hall for lunch?"

"You go ahead, Amit. I'm afraid I have to skip lunch today. I have an appointment with Professor Weasley and Professor Howin in just ten minutes."

"Oh, really? What do you need to discuss?"

"None of your fucking business." Anne said with a dazzling smile, waving her right hand emphatically before turning her back on her friend and heading towards the courtyard of the Beasts Classroom."Now, everything has to be perfect for tonight! By half past five in the afternoon, I'll have to be ready to go and collect Ominis' gift. Ugh! If only I didn't have to show up at the bloody Map Chamber too, I'd have much more time to make sure I look good tonight!"

As she lost herself in her thoughts, repeating her mental checklist, Anne estranged herself from the world around her to such an extent that she tripped over a bunch of Hallowe'en pumpkins, falling heavily to the ground and smashing the decorations in the process.

"Um, Reparo." She muttered, her face red as she quickly got up from the lawn like nothing had happened. "Mmh, where was I? Ah, yes. The Map Chamber. Ugh, let’s hope the Keepers don’t hold me up too long. I have to wash myself, change my clothes – wear lingerie and then change my clothes! Ooh, Ominis is going to have a fit over that lingerie! And then what else? Am I forgetting something?"

There was a thud followed by a loud curse.

A moment later, a young witch wearing Slytherin robes was lying upside down on the lawn on top of the remains of a squashed Hallowe'en pumpkin.

Ominis ran his tongue over his upper lip to make sure it wasn't smeared with chocolate. He could still taste the Lambeth cake that Anne Sallow had left for him in the middle of the Slytherin common room earlier that afternoon.

The previous year, it had been odd celebrating his birthday without his sweet friend by his side. He had greatly missed her cheerful, irreverent company on that gloomy day spent with Sebastian in the Undercroft, barely speaking a word. If he had to take stock of his life, Ominis could say he was more than grateful to Merlin for how things had changed for the better in the space of three hundred and sixty-five days. Exactly one year since his last birthday, his dearest friend had been cured of a deadly curse, and his relationship with Sebastian, who was a brother to him, had grown strong and peaceful again after the turmoil and fierce rivalry that had threatened to break it forever. But above all else, Ominis thanked all the stars in the firmament for helping Anne Smith find her way to him and for weaving their souls together.

It was almost comical to think how far from realisation his love dream had been exactly one year prior: Professor Fig had taken her away during the day to face a deadly Trial, and it had been his best friend who had held her close during the night, there in the darkness of the Detention Chamber, while the restless soul of the Heir of Slytherin had been left to agonise over her until dawn. Yet, despite the tragedies they had faced, Ominis and Anne had found each other in the end, and now he could finally hold her in his arms and lose himself in her caresses.

She had brought Love into his heart, piercing it with an arrow that seemed to have been shot by Hercules instead of Cupid, such was its strength.

She who had razed every certainty and everything he thought he knew about life to the ground.

She who was...

Right.

Where was she?

"She's almost half an hour late. Any idea where your future Lady has got to, mate?" Sebastian muttered, as if he had read Ominis' thoughts.

"Inevitably, my anxiety makes me fantasize about vicious werewolf and other dark threats, but truth is, my vain peahen is probably lost in some feminine bollocks—more concerned with her appearance than punctuality."

"Shall we go for an ale while we wait? I’m tired of standing around in the cold – my balls are freezing off."

As if they had conjured her up with their thoughts, Anne Smith emerged from a side street leading onto the town circle of Hogsmeade.

Several heads turned as the notorious Troll Slayer passed by, not to pay her homage but to admire her beauty.

Excited and anxious to celebrate Ominis' first birthday by his side as his betrothed, Anne had taken care of her appearance down to the smallest detail, almost to the point of excess and ostentation. She had put to good use every trick she had learned during the gruelling beauty routines her ‘dear’ mother had subjected her to in an attempt to throw her into the Muggle marriage market so that she would look impeccable on the arm of the Heir of Slytherin on his special day. Unconsciously and quite naturally embracing the role that she was at last entitled to in the high society of the Wizarding World, Anne made her way through the crowd of wizards and witches busy organising the final details for the Hallowe'en celebrations, floating with such elegance and ease that the colour of the blood running through her veins could not be mistaken.

And Sebastian could almost imagine it, the trickle of blue blood that would slide down her white skin if she cut herself at that very moment.

Every muscle in his body suddenly stiffened as if he were turned to stone, his jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth seemed to fuse together, and his gaze fixed on the lovely ginger advancing towards him with such intensity that it almost made his head spin from the effort.

"Calm down, Romeo. What did you expect? You know every inch of her perfect, fucking Veela body intimately. You wank off to the memory of her tight cunt more often than you'd like to admit. What are you so surprised about? She's obviously fucking gorgeous... But she hasn't got herself all dolled up for you, you fool." Thought the Slytherin heartthrob, without seemingly flinching an inch in his unnatural stillness.

With a rustle of expensive silk, Anne continued to advance in all her glory. Instead of her Slytherin uniform, a floor-length evening gown hugged her slender body perfectly; a wide, deep neckline emphasised her generous bosom with such boldness that one could imagine how tight must have been the corset hidden beneath the soft silk in cream and pastel red checks, embroidered with a pattern of flowers and clovers in a deeper shade of red. Without exposing so much as a hair's breadth of her delicate flesh to the icy autumn air, a pair of white evening gloves draped over her arms, reaching down from the puffed sleeves of her dress. Over the wide neckline of her gown, a slender Victorian choker of white lace with a pretty emerald pendant at its centre stood out. The colours of the fabrics she wore only served to highlight the natural tones of her skin and hair—gathered in a sophisticated low chignon adorned with Ominis' enchanted rose.

And Sebastian found himself staring at that blaze of sensual femininity, unable to look away, even though he was perfectly aware that he was being inappropriate and almost creepy.

"Mmh! The autumn breeze has brought something sweet to my nose. I'd say that a certain witch has finally deigned to show up for our engagement, if my sense of smell doesn't deceive me—and it never does." Ominis crooned, pointing his chestnut stalk at the newcomer as his thin lips curved upwards in a genuinely contented smile. "Mmm, cosmetic powder and an expensive rose-scented cold cream – there’s no doubt about it: she’s spent far too much time in front of the mirror."

"And it definitely was a waste of time, considering that you two louts are still wearing your uniforms and haven’t even bothered to splash on a drop of cologne!"

"Aren't you cold without a coat, red?"

Anne turned her attention to Sebastian and blushed conspicuously when she noticed the way he was looking at the soft curve of her breasts exposed to the autumn chill made even more pungent by the setting sun.

"I drank a potion to keep my body temperature warm. It's a pretty clever trick, actually. You'll see that many witches will resort to it tonight to walk among the Hallowe'en pumpkins showing off their best gowns without wrinkling them under a coat. Muggle women would pay any amount to do the same!"

"Well, either way, I don’t think we should dally outside. If only because Sebastian and I haven’t gulped down any warming potions." Ominis said, continuing to smile amusedly. "Where shall we go, my love?"

"Wait, where's Anne? Isn't she coming with us tonight?"

"Ah, no. She and Ominis already celebrated together this afternoon. She said that after being away from Hogwarts for a whole year, she had no intention of missing the Hallowe'en feast at the castle."

"Understandable, but with us gone, who will she spend the evening with? What a shame... We would have had so much fun at the Three Broomsticks, the four of us together." Murmured Anne, visibly disappointed that her friend had preferred to spend Hallowe'en night at the castle rather than come and celebrate Ominis’ birthday with them. "Oh, well! That means it'll just be the three of us! Happy Hallowe'en, lads!" She exclaimed enthusiastically before stepping towards Ominis to kiss him on the cheek. "And happy birthday to you, my love."

He smiled, blushing faintly, and put his right arm around her waist in a gesture that was as intimate as it was sleek and casual enough for them to stroll through Hogsmeade town circle without being considered shameless.

"Was this one of the gowns you wore to Muggle dances? It’s of exquisite tailoring." He asked, catching the skirt in his fingers and rubbing it absent-mindedly between his fingertips.

"Yes. My ‘beloved’ parents hoped that by dressing me well, my good looks would be enough to attract a rich Muggle to whom they could sell me. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, the glamour wasn't enough to make up for my social awkwardness." She replied with a shrug. "But speaking of glamour, aren't you curious to know what I bought you with my savings?" She asked, starting to walk towards the lavish lilac sign hanging above the entrance to Gladrags Wizardwear.

The shop was practically empty as it was nearing closing time; the only customer standing at the counter was Clementine Willardsey, absent-mindedly twirling her long black curls around the fingers of one hand while Augustus Hill put the finishing touches to the black aprons with silver spiderweb embroidery that she and Sirona would wear at the pub on Hallowe'en night.

"You bought him clothes? A bloody awful present, if you ask me, red." Sebastian muttered, glaring at the elderly shopkeeper with his deep dark eyes as a warning to avert his lecherous gaze from Anne. "Her betrothed is blind, but I can see perfectly well, you old fart." "I bet he'd much rather be browsing at Zonko's."

"I can confirm that."

"Pff, you're not sophisticated enough to understand certain things, Sebastian. And you, Ominis, are ungrateful!" Anne snorted, wrinkling her nose and crossing her arms over her chest as Clementine left the shop, giving her space at the counter.

Sebastian had the distinct impression that Augustus was bowing obsequiously to young Lord Gaunt only to peek down his sweet Lady's cleavage, taking advantage of his blindness, and as he weighed the risk of getting into trouble with the Aurors if he indulged in the pleasure of punching the old pig in the face in Ominis' stead, the latter finally straightened up to turn and gesture proudly towards a mannequin displayed in full view on a small platform behind the counter.

Anne had invested part of her savings in having Ominis made an aristocratic ensemble to match one of her favourite gowns. A pair of shiny black leather hunting boots matched a pair of corduroy breeches; a waistcoat in refined dark cerulean silk, extremely pleasing to the eye and richly embroidered with a silver floral pattern that echoed the edges of the same colour, was fastened over a loose-fitting white shirt, and the whole outfit was completed by a plush bow tie in the same shade of cerulean as the waistcoat.

"I own a formal gown in the same shade of cerulean, with the same floral embroidery." Anne said shyly as she guided Ominis’ hands over the finely embroidered fabric hanging on the mannequin. "You see, I—well, it’s my favourite gown, and I’ve never had a chance to wear it. I thought we would look very nice together if you had something to wear to match—you know, maybe at one of those snobbish affairs you told me about—the ones where we would dance..."

"This is haute couture, Anne. This ensemble must have cost you a fortune, my love. You shouldn't have." Ominis whispered, torn between enthusiasm, embarrassment and concern at the overly generous gift. "Any bollocks from Zonko’s would have been fine. Let me pay for this myself -"

"Oi, Ominis! You're hurting my feelings. I really want to give you this gift! I have my savings, you know? And Mr Hill was kind enough to give me a most generous price."

"Of course he did, the old fart." Sebastian whispered to himself as he stood aside leaning against the counter, still openly gnashing his teeth at the shop owner, his full, attractive lips twisted into an almost wolfish snarl.

Augustus Hill urged Ominis to try on his ensemble so that he could make a few minor adjustments with a few quick flicks of his wand, all the while decanting the intricate spells that permeated the cerulean silk to prevent tears, stains, and even moths.

It was ten minutes before eight in the evening when the Slytherin trio finally emerged from the shop door. They had stayed well past closing time on Hallowe'en itself, but Mr Hill continued to reassure his customers that he was more than happy to be at their service, never ceasing to cast lustful glances at Anne's body as his old, wrinkled hands packed the clothes to be sent to Hogwarts by owl, almost as if they were moved by a brain independent of the one that controlled his eyes.

With quick steps, the young snakes made their way to the Three Broomsticks, passing through streets strewn with enchanting decorations put up by both shopkeepers and villagers, eerie and wonderful in the evening darkness, lit only by the soft candlelight of Hallowe'en pumpkins.

"What in Hell are you doing here?"

A sharp, deep male voice addressed them harshly a few steps from the pub entrance, forcing the Slytherin trio to abruptly turn their attention to the wizard standing before them.

"Professor Sharp?" Anne called out in surprise. "My, how dashing you look, Professor! Fancy meeting you here." She added enthusiastically. "How strange though. Aren't you attending the Hallowe'en feast?"

"A professor certainly does not have to justify or explain themselves to their students for this sort of thing. You, on the other hand. What are you doing here at this hour when you should be in the Great Hall with your housemates?"

"Professor Sharp, if I may, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but we do have the Headmaster's permission to be here." Ominis answered politely, tilting his blond head to one side with an innocent expression plastered on his face, his right arm wrapped around Anne's waist chivalrously.

"Of course you do, Mr Gaunt. And I imagine you intend to spend the evening here at the Three Broomsticks?"

"Well, yes, Professor Sharp. We thought -"

"You thought wrong, Mr Sallow! Out of my sight! After what you young rascals got up to last Hallowe'en, the last thing I need is you in my way tonight!"

In response to that heated outburst, Anne's eyes widened in amazement and she began to observe the disfigured face of the former Auror closely.

"I thought you had forgiven us for - for the mischief we got up to last year. You said that you too had played some pranks that were a little too rough when you were young and that as long as one learns their lesson, it's part of growing up." She said, fixing her expressive dark eyes on those of the flustered Potion Master.

Looking closely, he seemed to be very flustered.

"Professor Sharp is flustered? But why?"

Anne noticed the way his hands trembled imperceptibly, his palms clearly sweaty. She also noticed the elegant frock coat worn over a black silk suit with a white waistcoat, to which a silver flower holder had been pinned, supporting a stunning tropical flower.

"Oh!" She exclaimed in a low voice as on her face appeared the quintessential expression of female intuition, her soft lips parting in a knowing smile. "Lads, on second thought, why don’t we take a stroll to Keenbridge’s pub? Professor Sharp is right, it’s better not to get under each other’s feet! We'll have more fun away from our professor, and I bet he'd be more comfortable without his students around too."

"You will have fun with restraint, Miss Smith. The Headmaster may have let you off the leash, but as Slytherins, you are my responsibility, so don’t go causing any fecking trouble."

"Ooh, how foul-mouthed we are away from the teacher’s desk, eh, Professor? What makes you so flustered?" Anne chanted as she skated on thin ice.

"The first thing I'll do when I get back to the castle is take twenty points off Slytherin for your impudence, Miss Smith." Said Professor Sharp, nervously running a hand over his face as if his attention was elsewhere.

The heavy velvet of his frock coat and the elegant silk of his suit hugged the body of the former Auror perfectly, highlighting his athletic physique and somehow masking the awkwardness of his movements and the less attractive aspects of his chronic injury.

"You look absolutely dashing, Professor Sharp. I’m sure the witch who’s waiting for you will be most impressed." Anne said with a sincere, if slightly too familiar, smile.

"Don’t be silly, Miss Smith. There is no witch." He replied through gritted teeth. "Have a good evening and a happy Hallowe'en, everyone. See you tomorrow in class. Be on time." He turned to leave his students behind, then paused and turned back to them with an amused smile. "Mr Gaunt, allow me to give you a piece of advice that goes beyond potion-making : never take a woman for granted. Never! Miss Smith looks this beautiful for you tonight, and you're walking her around on your arm without even having changed your clothes at the end of the day? Come on, Mr Gaunt! I bet you can do better than this."

Ominis blushed blatantly, spitting out an indignant half-retort while Sebastian doubled over with laughter.

Teacher and students parted ways: the former entered the crowded pub in Hogsmeade, while the latter walked towards the nearest public chimney, each pulling a handful of Floo Powder from their pockets.

When they arrived in Keenbridge, they found the local pub much more lively than they had expected. Despite the bitter cold of the evening and the cloud-covered sky that blocked out moonlight and starlight alike, the outdoor tables and counter on the pretty pier overlooking the river were filled with wizards and witches of all ages celebrating Hallowe'en night with toasts and cheers. Candles and carved pumpkins of various sizes had been levitated in the air to dimly light the outdoor area, and a couple of ghosts from the cemetery on the other side of the waterway had joined in the dancing that some of the pub's patrons had started in the middle of the pier, accompanied by an old, out-of-tune quintet of enchanted strings.

Sitting on high stools and squeezed together like sandwiches at the pub counter, Ominis, Sebastian and Anne laughed until tears came to their eyes.

In between one silly remark and another, empty beer mugs piled up on the bar. A light, pleasant alcoholic euphoria reddened Anne's cheeks, making her laugh much more easily than usual. Two plates filled with different varieties of sprouts sat on the counter right in front of her, but they were too light a snack to help her digest the ale properly, especially considering she hadn't had lunch.

"Wait, wait! Lads, listen up, please! I have something important to tell you!" She exclaimed with a sudden burst of enthusiasm as she grabbed the wrists of both Ominis and Sebastian, who were sitting to her right and left respectively.

The gesture stopped the boys as they were about to raise their beer mugs to their mouths. They remained for a moment with their glasses in mid-air and their lips parted until Ominis put his down to bring a hand to Anne's low chignon and stroke her soft ginger hair, taking care not to ruin her coiffure.

"An important announcement, my love? Is that so?"

"That's right! The kind of announcement that calls for a toast." She paused for a moment to emphasise the moment, then grabbed her half-full beer mug and raised it to the sky. "Today I met with Professor Weasley and Professor Howin to finally accept their offer. In four years, the Beasts chair at Hogwarts shall be mine."

There was a deafening clatter of mugs followed by clumsy cheering as Ominis and Sebastian banged rhythmically on the pub counter and Anne’s thighs, drawing the attention of the other patrons.

"I should start calling you Professor, then?"

"Ah. Ah. Very funny, Sebastian."

"Seriously, though, Professor Smith sounds good!"

"It would be—um, it would be Professor Gaunt, I think. And anyway, it's too early for both!"

Ominis leaned over from his stool to kiss Anne on the cheek. His blind blue eyes reflected the happiness and pride he was feeling rather evidently.

"I'm glad you've finally accepted. There was no point in stalling, this is quite an opportunity! You will be a very young professor—perhaps the youngest Hogwarts has ever seen."

"And I would always have access to the Map Chamber. I would be able to watch over the Repository—"

"Always thinking about your duties as Keeper, red!"

"Well, that’s important for me, Sebastian! And if I have this amazing opportunity in the first place, it's not just because I have an affinity for animals and a great passion for the subject: it's because the faculty knows who I am and what I would be able to teach young wizards and witches one day." Anne wrinkled her nose and shook her head before taking the last sip of her pint and grabbing a few sprouts from the plate in front of her. "Although I don't think any of them will ever have to tame an alpha Graphorn at the age of fifteen."

"To my fair Graphorn tamer!" Exclaimed Ominis, raising his mug one last time to drink the last sip of ale in turn.

"Yes, you have an affinity for the subject, that's for sure. Hell, you'd take in every bloody stray in the Highlands. And it's true that you have abilities that are truly out of the ordinary when it comes to dealing with magical creatures — whether harmless or deadly. Though, honestly, I don't understand why they didn't offer you the professorship in Defence Against the Dark Arts." Sebastian muttered, thoughtfully turning his beer mug over in his hands. "I mean, you single-handedly stopped a goblin rebellion! And they offer you the Beasts chair instead."

"First of all, Professor Howin has stated that she wants to retire, while Professor Hecat doesn’t seem to have any intention of doing so yet— "

"Professor Hecat is cursed—injured by a magical accident at work that left her body in a state—"

"Yes, well, about that." Anne interjected, turning to Sebastian with sudden trepidation as she gestured for him to put down his beer mug to take his hands and squeeze them tightly. "I have another important announcement to make." She continued in a trembling voice, tormenting her rosy lips with her teeth.

"Did the sprouts give you the farts?"

"Shut up, Sebastian! Listen to me, you idiot! ...Today, I put you forward to Professor Weasley as a potential candidate to replace Professor Hecat when she inevitably has to leave her post due to health-related matters."

Ominis whistled in admiration and his thin lips curved into a smile that was as surprised as it was curious.

Sebastian jumped up so quickly that he almost knocked over his stool. Anne's delicate hands clasped around his bigger, calloused ones seemed to be an anchor keeping him tied to the real world while his mind travelled miles away, staring at the people and ghosts dancing on the pier without actually seeing them.

"What? You, what?! You can't be fucking serious, red."

"I am. We talked about it, remember?"

"We were jesting! Bloody jesting! There's no reason why I could be a potential candidate for that professorship. There are only two ways to get it: either pursue a career as an Auror or conduct years of noteworthy empirical research in the field! And I repeat that I have no intention of following in the footsteps of that rotten bastard that I called uncle, nor do I intend to leave my sister and the Highlands—"

"Who says you have to leave the Highlands?"

For a moment, silence seemed to fall over the crowded Keenbridge pub, as if the lively patrons had suddenly fallen quiet, such was the focus of the young snakes on their conversation. Ominis listened silently, his head tilted to one side and his soft blond hair dancing with the reflections of the dim light from the candles and Hallowe'en pumpkins. Sebastian was still standing, motionless and tense, his deep dark eyes wide with astonishment as if he were no longer able to close them. Anne, for her part, was perched calmly on her stool, breathing steadily while the slight flush caused by the pints of ale continued to adorn her white cheeks like natural rouge.

"What do you mean?" Asked the Slytherin heartthrob, looking the young witch in front of him straight in the eye.

"You don't need to leave the Highlands to bring the Wizarding World an exceptional discovery in the field of Dark Arts and win the most coveted professorship in all of Hogwarts. All you need to do is walk ten minutes away from your home, in fact."

"Anne? Is this what I think it is?" Ominis interjected in a calm but plainly wary tone of voice.

"Yes, Ominis. That cursed catacomb and its relic ruined us and nearly destroyed Sebastian’s life. It seems both fair and poetic that they are the key to offering him a new one."

Sebastian let out a deep sigh, as if he had been punched hard in the stomach, and his attractive, kissable lips remained open in shock.

"You can't be serious, red."

"Why not? I told Professor Weasley that you discovered an extremely dangerous dark artefact and that you have completed extensive archaeological research on it without any help. When I specified that the relic is directly connected to Salazar Slytherin and – probably – Merlin, she told me it could be the discovery of the century."

"What the Hell are you talking about, red? We don't even have the relic! It was destroyed!"

"Is that the ambition of a Slytherin, Sebastian? I've already thought of several solutions to that problem, and we'll work on them together this time." Anne squeezed Sebastian's hands tightly in hers, then stood up and hugged him so close that her frail, thin body seemed destined to be swallowed up by his taller, sturdier frame. "We'll turn that dark moment in our lives into your moment of glory, Sebastian. You'll make the discovery of the century. And just think, you might even end up inside Chocolate Frogs as well as getting the professorship in Defence Against the Dark Arts!"

He returned the hug tenderly, then took a step back and clung to the edge of the counter as if he had suddenly lost his balance.

"Anne?" Ominis called in Parseltongue, waiting for her to come and stand in front of his stool before continuing. "Are you sure this is a good idea? Are you sure you're in control of the situation this time?"

"Yes." She hissed back with conviction. "My knowledge of Ancient Magic and the Dark Arts is infinitely greater now. And what's more, I've had many Visions, my love. Sebastian will get that professorship thanks to an idea of mine, the Inner Eye showed me this in my most recent Vision."

At those words, Ominis' expression relaxed almost imperceptibly and he nodded slowly.

"Just as you saw us both in the Chamber of Secrets with the ebony spiral." He murmured softly.

"Exactly. Don't be afraid, my love. Not this time."

There was the loud clatter of a small glass on the wooden counter, and a moment later Anne turned to see Sebastian wiping his mouth with the back of his hand after drinking a drop of whisky.

"Do you mind if I leave you lovebirds alone? I want to spend the rest of the evening with my sister." He announced quietly, with a melancholic, troubled expression on his face – the expression of someone reliving horrible memories and feeling the need to be near a specific person. "Happy Hallowe'en." He continued forcing a smile as he reached into his pocket for his bag of Floo Powder. "And happy birthday, you old bastard—you take care of the tab, aye?"

"You’re making me pay the whole tab on my birthday, mate?"

"You’re the one who’s filthy rich, mate."

The two friends laughed, and Ominis made an elegant gesture of farewell before throwing a handful of galleons onto the pub counter, which the landlady immediately eyed with greed.

"Since we're alone now, would you like to join the dance?" He then asked Anne, standing up and offering her his arm.

"Are you sure you want to cover yourself in ridicule by standing next to me on the dance floor, Gaunt?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life, Smith."

The Heir of Slytherin led his lovely ginger onto the improvised dance floor on the pier.

Some of the pub patrons raised their glasses to toast the Troll Slayer when they saw her joining the fray, all eyes suddenly fixed on her with admiration. Many—too many—of the wizards present had lustful looks on their faces and eagerly followed the rustle of her skirts on the rough wood of the pier, not missing a single movement of the ginger-haired siren. Ominis was not focused on the whispers reaching his ears, however, calm and aware that his mere presence was enough to shield Anne from any excessive and unwelcome attention. The only thing he regretted with a hint of shame was not having changed his clothes after class, Professor Sharp's amused words still echoing in the back of his mind.

"I should have guessed that this wouldn't be a normal evening at the pub for her. It is Hallowe'en, after all. And the first birthday I'm celebrating with her by my side." He thought as Anne trampled on his feet with the grace of a rampaging centaur.

As usual, she couldn't take a single step in time. And as usual, he felt his heart burst with joy as he hid his mocking, amused smile, burying his face in her ginger hair, so elegantly gathered.

The autumn breeze rippled the river's waters and chilled the air as the night went on by candlelight.

Ominis' hands on Anne's body became increasingly tense and brazen as he did his best to lead her through the dances. Both were breathless, but not from the physical exertion they were engaging in.

There was trepidation in the air between them. The anticipation that arises between two people when one wants to give and the other wants to take.

Anne's dark eyes were languid, almost imploring, as they admired the princely features of the Heir of Slytherin, who was leading her with infinite patience in their dance.

"Ominis." She finally whispered in his ear, unable to contain a sudden surge of boldness dictated by impatience. "Do you like my gown?"

His hands slid in perfect synchrony along her sides, discreetly touching her in all the right places with the confidence of a lad who knows exactly how his partner wants to be handled.

"From what I've been able to touch so far, I like it very much, yes."

"W-would you like to take it off me?"

There was a small gasp followed by a muffled grunt. His hands gripped her sides more tightly as their feet came to a halt. It was such a rhetorical question that Ominis didn't even bother to answer it, his left hand already placed on the small of her back to lead her to the public chimney at the entrance to the pub, while with his right hand he threw another handful of galleons on the counter without even knowing what he was paying for this time.

But it mattered none.

Everything was reduced to a distant, muffled buzz.

Everything except Anne's embarrassed, quivering giggles in his ear.

With a flash of green light, they emerged from the marble fireplace in the Room of Requirement. They practically ran from the Keeper's private sitting room up to her loft bedroom—too busy trying to stay clinging to each other to worry about whether Deek was around or not. Increasingly tense and increasingly bold, Ominis' hands landed with feral intent on Anne's gown as soon as they reached the foot of the bed. But she halted his movements.

"I won't tear it, I swear." He gasped against her mouth.

But she giggled and placed a hand on his chest, biting his lower lip impishly.

"Trust me, Gaunt. Just give me a moment and make yourself comfortable in the meantime."

Hidden behind her four-panel booth to look in the mirror one last time, Anne slipped off her evening gown, partly glad to have saved it from Ominis' clutches and partly sorry she hadn't let him tear it to shreds. She heard the sound of a cork being opened and, shortly afterwards, the rustle of men's garments being hastily unbuttoned and thrown to the floor without care.

"Anne, are you all right?" Came the now hoarse voice of the Heir of Slytherin from the other side of the panel.

"Yes. I'm coming to you, my love." She replied in an increasingly trembling voice as she looked away from the mirror, feeling a twinge of insecurity now that she was on the brink of the precipice.

The evening gown had been discarded on the back of an armchair, but the white gloves were still elegantly wrapped around her arms, and the Victorian lace choker still adorned her neck.

An over-bust corset draped her body in elegant cream-coloured fabric. A rich lace trim edged the neckline of the garment, which squeezed Anne's breasts so tightly that it almost hurt. Just below her navel was another trim of the same lace sewn around the garment like a belt, with a soft cream-coloured bow in the centre that fell just beyond the point where the over-bust corset covered her lady parts, concealing that spot in a fashion that was both chaste and suggestive. At the sides were attached the suspenders that held up the hold-ups matching the choker.

As her heart pounded in her chest, Anne stepped out of the four-panel booth and nimbly jumped onto the bed to sit astride Ominis' naked body, already lying on the bed. Thin lips curved victoriously upwards as his hands settled on her thighs, waiting to see what kind of initiative she wanted to take. When his fingertips brushed the fabric of her hold-ups, however, his expression suddenly became serious and focused.

A moment later, the fair ginger found herself lying on her back on the bed mattress with the Heir of Slytherin looming over her as if driven by the most primal predatory instinct. She remained silent as his hands alternated to explore every inch of her body. She heard him grunt deep in his throat as he buried his face between her breasts, held tightly together by the cruel corset, then she heard him pant slowly as if trying to compose himself, only to let out another guttural sound that was extremely sensual to her ears once he had moved his right hand to the choker around her neck. Then his left hand moved down to the white bow adorning her lower abdomen, and her small, unguarded moan could be heard in response to the tremor that ran through his body. His fingers urgently followed the soft fabric of the bow until they reached the magical spot between her legs where the over-bust corset that separated her lady parts from his eager touch was conspicuously wet and sticky.

"Happy birthday to me." Ominis murmured in a hoarse, broken voice, almost as if he were talking to himself.

"Do you like my new lingerie?"

"Do I like it?" The Heir of Slytherin slid his fingers along the wet fabric between the legs of his betrothed, shifting his weight imperceptibly to hiss in her ear with his cold, ominous serpentine accent. "You are perfect, my love."

A shiver of pleasure ran through her. He felt a small wet trickle merge with the puddle where he was still languidly rubbing his fingers.

"You are so perfect that if I try to slip between your legs right now, I'll cum immediately." His hand slipped away and she moaned in despair, causing him to grunt in response. "Bear with me for a moment, love. I need to take the edge off so I can take proper care of you."

Before Anne could ask Ominis what he meant, she noticed that he had moved his hand to his erection, working frantically with his fingers wetted by her feminine juices. After a few moments, a warm, thick fluid dripped onto Anne’s closed thighs and splashed onto the pretty bow on her lower abdomen.

"I’m sorry, love. You would have had to wash it anyway, wouldn’t you?"

"Ominis, you didn't need to do this for fear of c-coming too soon. It didn't matter -"

Her exotic hiss was interrupted by his lips on the white skin of her breasts as his hands patiently worked a couple of the small buttons on the front of her over-bust corset to expose her pink nipples.

"It did matter. You're my betrothed, Anne, not a hole for me to stick my cock in if I need to cum."

The velvety voice of the Heir of Slytherin reverberated between her breasts, his whispers caressing her skin like smoke before his mouth closed greedily over her left nipple.

Flushed from his obscene words and panting from the laborious passion with which his lips lavished attention on her needy breasts, Anne lost herself in her pleasure to the point that she almost didn't notice the strong hand stroking her right side, trying to slide behind her back. She had realised some time ago that Ominis was particularly turned on when he took her from behind. It was plain that the sensation of entering her was more arousing and intense for him in that position, but she suspected there was also a psychological factor at play, the same one that triggered something inside her too. That was a position of absolute dominance for Ominis, in which Anne could do nothing but spread her legs and come for him, and while on the one hand the complete surrender of control aroused her to the point that she was the first to seek it out, there was one thing she was beginning to miss greatly.

Something that Ominis could not miss.

Which was the reason why he often sought to mount her from behind without hesitation.

But if it was true that he could not miss looking into Anne's eyes and focusing on the expressions on her face while they were joined together, it was not true for her.

"Ominis, my love." She whispered in his ear, gently squeezing his wrist to stop him. "I want to... I want to look at your face while you’re inside me."

Ominis' expression softened immediately and the blond locks of his hair mingled with her ginger ones as he lowered his forehead onto hers.

"How about this?"

His hand, still resting on her hip, moved down to her thigh, urging her to lift her legs and turn them so that her shoulder blades remained flat on the mattress and her pelvis turned to the side.

"Are you comfortable enough, Anne?"

"Luckily, I'm athletic."

There was an amused snort of laughter, and the smile that spread across the face of the Heir of Slytherin reached his blind blue eyes. Then his expression turned serious, though still languid and loving, and she felt his long fingers move the fabric of her over-bust corset aside to reveal her rosy, wet folds, while his other hand rested on her legs, bent to one side, shifting his weight onto them to hold them tightly together.

"Do you trust me to try and push inside like this?"

She nodded and murmured a faint "Yes" against his lips.

"If I feel you're too tight, I'll stop. But if I go too far and hurt you, will you promise to tell me?"

She nodded again, but this time her assent turned into an obscenely eager moan as the fat head of his cock positioned itself at her closed entrance. When he was sure she understood how to keep her legs closed, he slid his hand over the fabric of her hold-ups and slipped it into the junction between her lower abdomen and thighs.

Fingers on her clitoris, face buried between her soft, firm breasts, letting her moans float freely through the air, Ominis began to push his length against Anne's tight cunt with care and total control over his movements. At first, they remained still as he breached her wet, welcoming core, so squeezed in that position that for a moment he himself felt a slight discomfort and wondered if it was too much. Then, exerting gentle pressure on her clitoris and whispering words of love in her ear, he made her come with a silent moan and without his cock even being fully sheathed inside her yet. And finally, the familiar pulsing spasms of Anne's cunt invited Ominis to thrust all the way into her heavenly warmth. It was his passionate kisses that swallowed her moans of ecstasy and pain as he forced himself inside her, guided by his most primal instincts. And she came once more, clinging tightly to his shoulders and trembling beneath him with every contraction of her womb.

"Ominis, that's too much now. Ah, my back!"

With a quick, nonchalant motion, Ominis pulled away from her just enough to let her lie back comfortably on her back, finding the fabric of her over-bust corset with his fingers to move it aside once again and thrust himself back inside her, balls deep. He was close now. He could feel Anne submissive beneath him as she accepted and enjoyed his every thrust, kiss, and caress.

"Are you looking at my face, Anne?"

"Yes, I—ohMerlinfuckyes! I love you, Ominis—I love you!"

There was the frenzied slap of flesh against flesh, then sweat, heat, and finally pleasure beyond human comprehension, their lips joined in a desperate kiss as her cunt spasmed around his length and her womb welcomed his seed.

In the quiet that followed, the Heir of Slytherin and his betrothed lay on their sides facing each other, locked in an embrace as strong as the foundations of Hogwarts itself, their foreheads resting against one another.

"Happy birthday, my love."

"And happy Hallowe'en to you, my darling."

Anne's soft lips sought his thin ones anew. The kiss was languid and comforting, so much so that they almost fell asleep like that, their tongues entwined. Then a random thought occurred to her, causing her a vague sense of anxiety, as if her mind, in its chronic insecurity, was trying to slightly ruin that perfect moment.

"Ominis?"

"Mmh?"

"My next game is in less than a month. This time we're playing Gryffindor. You'll come, won't you?" Anne asked in a thin voice as she hid her face in the crook of his neck.

For a brief moment, Ominis' expression was crossed by pure sadness.

"I guess I didn't shag you well enough if you're here thinking about Quidditch."

Anne didn't even have time to find the answer elusive, because she burst out laughing, and her loving heart began to gallop faster than before as Ominis rolled her onto her back again to position himself on top of her.

"Let me try again. Let's see if I can do better, love."