The Sacrifice

The Sacrifice

The Sacrifice

James thinks it's batty, but I find something very comforting about Hogwarts at nighttime. The halls are quiet, and I can examine the walls, speak to the portraits, and read the inscriptions on the suits of armor in peace--well, not always, of course. As Head Girl I'm given the chance to walk the halls at night so I can enforce the curfew, and an evening hasn't yet passed where I haven't had to send a pair of students back to their dormitories with a stern look and a threat to take house points next time. I've managed to convince James that it's a Bad Idea to patrol together, now that we're together , mainly because we're meant to be stopping other students from snogging in a dark corner, not doing it ourselves. That's not the whole reason, though. The truth is, I enjoy silence, and even when James Potter isn't speaking, he's rarely silent.

Tonight has been unusual--for one thing, there are a lot fewer students up and about than normal, though I expect the cold might have something to do with that. The real oddity had been finding a Slytherin and a Gryffindor together in an alcove; 'dueling' might be one way to describe what they'd been doing, but there hadn't been a wand in sight. I was so surprised at the time that I simply pointed towards the stairs, and the pair ran off immediately. I've never been a follower of the Gryffindors Against Slytherins At Any Cost movement, but after seven years here, it's a fact of Hogwarts life that our two houses don't get along. There was a time when I thought I could have made a difference in that sort of negative thinking, but... It turns out that a lone Gryffindor without possession of a thick skin to protect her is no match for centuries of such ingrained stereotypes.

My rounds have come full circle and I check my watch for the time. James may mock me for wearing it all he likes--and he does, the prat--practical is practical, whether you're a witch or a Muggle housewife. It's nearing on twelve o'clock; I know he'll have already gone back to Gryffindor Tower, and I really ought to do so as well. I'm not going back just yet, though--the truth is, I'm feeling a little sentimental, and I'm not willing to give up having the school to myself just yet, not when spring is so close, bringing the last days I'll spend at Hogwarts with it.

I decide to turn towards the dungeons, wanting to visit a certain portrait that I've always liked but rarely get to see. While someone like Sirius may see no link between prudence and courage, over the past two years I've managed to convince myself that I've been braver to stand by my convictions, rather than having the messy and miserable conversation I'd much rather avoid. As I walk the staircases leading down to the dungeons, I can't help but think about the circumstances that have brought me to where I am--to who I am, now. There's a sort of casual cruelty to the way James and his friends treat each other; I don't think that, five years ago, I would have ever seen myself as close to them as I've become. It would be easy to blame my de-sensitivity on my sister's few, but hurtful letters, on that awful moment on the lawn... but, sometimes I wonder if it's just a part of growing up--realizing that life isn't fair, that things won't always go the way you've dreamed they would.

"You should be in bed," a male voice says from the shadows, his tone terse, wary. Hearing that voice just as I'd been trying not to think about him knocks away the defensive wall I'd carefully constructed against his memory, against our memories. I'm too weary to draw strength from righteous anger, and I can feel the tears I've pushed away for years threaten to show themselves.

"You're one to talk," I say, wincing as my voice sounds too loud to my own ears. Severus is nothing if not perceptive, no matter how he tries to hide it from others--that was part of why he'd hurt me so much. "I'm doing my rounds," I say in a softer voice. I can't see him, but this helps somewhat. The few glimpses I've had of him since our falling out have shown him looking more severe, drawn. I don't want to think about how our changes in personality and association display differently in each of us.

"Will you take house points?" he asks with caustic humor. "James would--I would. You have a reputation to protect, after all."

"Don't let's talk about reputations," I snap at him, wounded. I want to hurt him, now, like for like, as though if I could just make him feel as I had, it would zero out my own pain. "-And you're not James," I add, a trickle of fear at my own audaciousness penetrating the fury. Severus hadn't been the only one in our friendship gifted with perception.

"No, I'm not." Severus says this with no hint of the enmity of his previous statements, stepping away from the shadows to lean against the wall across from me. With a calmly spoken phrase, he's managed to make me look unreasonable and spiteful in my own attitude. I realize in that moment, with sudden and frightening clarity, that part of why it had been so 'easy' to give up our friendship was that I'd never, ever felt in control of it. Sev had always somehow been in charge, even when he'd lost control and said such hateful things to me. Would that I could gain the upper hand, just once...