Chapter 122

It was cold out, the bitter morning breeze kissing her cheeks as Atlas lay on her broom, her Muggle tech clutched to her chest as music flooded her brain, Hermione’s gift, the mixtape sang unwavering in her ears as she stared up at the clouds, blinking slowly, trapped in some odd daze as she imagined the notes in the sky and thought thoughts that had no real value or need, just random things, like how Unicorns probably get pissed when twigs get stuck in their immaculate manes, or how Bella was probably riding a dragon somewhere in Romania after departing a few days before the term started – she’d left a note and promised weekly letters.

The wood of the broom dug awkwardly into her back and she sighed, shuffling slightly to reorientate herself before returning to her daydreaming – she’d woken extra early that day to get breakfast when it was hot, or rather, she hadn’t actually slept, her entire being perfectly attune to Hermione’s every shuffle in her sleep, every odd sigh. Each one made Atlas flinch, fresh colour in her cheeks as she pondered the night before. She could still feel Hermione’s fingers on her back.

With a groan she rolled over, her eyes squinting first before widening as she narrowly caught a Quaffle flying towards her. She let out a loud grunt as it impacted her side, almost catching the fragile muggle music box in her lap as it collided, it spun in her grasp as she whirled it between her fingers, throwing it back to Ginny who was grinning as she met her in the sky.

“Atlas, what are you doing out here?” She smiled, settling on her broom, Atlas’s old Nimbus 2001 she had gifted her the year prior.

“Could ask you the same,” Atlas retorted, as they began passing the Quaffle back and forth.

“I’m practising for tryouts,” Ginny said with a shrug, she focussed back on Atlas and mock gasped, throwing the Quaffle back at the older girl as she covered her mouth with both hands. “Wait! No way, is Atlas Magianima Black practising too?”

“No,” Atlas huffed and tossed it back.

“Right, the idea is ludicrous, as if you need to practise anything,” Ginny said haughtily and zipped around Atlas idly with a beaming smile, “so why are you here?”

“Just…thinking,” Atlas muttered.

“Don’t do that, you might implode,” Ginny said cheekily, doing a few spins with the Quaffle.

“Hermione was acting strange,” Atlas said and that caused the redhead to halt, the ball almost slipping through her fingers as she leant forward on her broom, elbows on the wood and hands propping up her face. “She…she was…I don’t know, I think it was flirting but like not the words but how she said them?”

“Shocker.”

“And it’s not just that, I couldn’t sleep last night because I kept reading into like, everything that happened at the Burrow…even like on the train,” Atlas continued, running a hand through her hair. “I feel like I’m going insane.”

“How come?” Ginny asked, hugging the Quaffle to her stomach as she sat upright.

“Because she can’t like like me right?” Atlas said, looking at Ginny hesitantly only to find the girl blankly staring at her.

“Atlas, you…” Ginny let out a breath, muttering something under her breath that seemed suspiciously Russian, it caught Atlas so off guard she didn’t even attempt to translate it with what little Russian she knew. “Why wouldn’t she? I mean, realistically there are loads of people who like you, so like…it’s not impossible.”

“But…” Atlas bit her lip, drumming her fingers on her thighs as she thought. “They don’t actually like me thought, like, it’s flattering, you know? I know I’m sought after?” she said, wincing as she tried to put her feelings into words, “but like I feel like they can’t actually like me ’cause they don’t actually know me.”

“I understand,” Ginny nodded and it seemed genuine. “But Hermione knows you.”

“Exactly.”

“So…” Ginny urged for Atlas to continue and the girl hesitated, swallowing solidly.

“I’m not…I’m not good.“

“You’re talking such shit – !” Ginny protested but Atlas interrupted her.

“No, I’m not,” she said and sighed, her legs swinging in the air and Ginny watched them, huffing as she wondered how a girl who sat swinging her legs in the air, contemplating her moral alignment and actions in life, could be anything but good or at least something close to it. “I…I have nightmares about people living…and dreams about people dying.”

“So you fantasise about some dead Death Eaters, it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person, Atlas,” Ginny said and Atlas frowned deeply, ducking her gaze, “You wouldn’t kill –“

“I would, I…I did,” Atlas reminded and Ginny fell quiet, looking at Atlas, contemplating quietly, “They…they were bad, they were going to hurt people, they were going to hurt her, so I killed them but it’s still like…it’s still fucking dark Ginny, I dream about it, all of the time like some psychopath, I wake up and throw up without fail because of how much I enjoyed it. And Hermione…fuck Ginny, she’s so good and kind and she doesn’t recoil or turn away from me when I hurt people, she held me even after I pummelled Antonin Dolohov to near death in front of her, she held me. I hurt people and she comforts me.”

“Come on Atlas, it’s not like no one else has fantasised about dead racist supremacists,” Ginny huffed, reaching out to knuckle Atlas’s thigh, but the girl continued to stare at her hands, drumming patterns in her thigh. “Atlas…Atlas come on.”

Atlas looked up at Ginny who smiled.

“You’re not bad,” she assured and sighed, looking off to the side, “What happened back then…that was war — war is…it’s bloody, you’ve told me this countless times, there are deaths to – to both sides,” Ginny continued carefully and Atlas flinched, thinking of Sirius, her dad, falling, falling, falling — “it doesn’t discriminate, people die and if you have no regrets killing people who were trying to kill us I’m not going to condemn you for it. No one will. And that’s why Hermione cared for you…she cared for you, she didn’t condemn you because she knew you’d condemn yourself for killing them, for having no remorse.”

“But…”

“Merlin, Atlas, why is it so hard for you to believe a girl who hugs you after you legit kill someone likes you?” Ginny groaned and Atlas flushed, frowning as her brows furrowed. “For someone so fucking confident your lack of self-awareness is staggering.”

“I’m aware of myself.”

“Ok, yeah let me amend that, you’re so fucking aware of yourself you legit can’t see past the stuff you deem flaws,” Ginny said, throwing her hands up and Atlas looked at her, eyes narrowing as she bit the inside of her cheek.

“Are you calling me self-absorbed?”

“Yes,” Ginny said simply and levelled Atlas with a stare, “look…maybe Hermione was flirting with you or maybe she was just fucking tired, I don’t know…but you are dateable and it’s worth — it’s worth looking out for. You’ve liked her for years and if a chance is approaching fucking take it otherwise I will actually kill you.”

“Ok.”

“Ok?” Ginny repeated, her brow raised, “I just give you the best fucking pep talk I have ever pepped and you say, ‘ok’?”

“I just…I don’t know what else to say,” Atlas grumbled, sighing, some darkness behind her eyes. Ginny softened at the sight and reached out, nudging the girl again.

“Look, if by some fucking chance Hermione doesn’t like you, she’ll still love you just not in the way you might want, you won’t lose her, she’s not the type,” Ginny assured and Atlas nodded, humming in thought. “Also, I’m pretty sure she likes it when you’re protective.”

“What?” Atlas said, her eyes widening a tad.

“Hermione’s got this whole thing about being independent and standing up for herself,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes as she seemed to huff, “which, ok, amazing but it’s complete bullshit because she definitely likes it when you’re like…defending people, noblesse oblige and whatever.”

“So you think she likes me?” Atlas queried, her legs still swinging in the air as she fiddled with the wire of her headphones and Ginny was once again stuck on how this girl was the same one who had destroyed a secret Ministry vault and dispatched a dozen Death Eaters single-handedly.

Ginny heaved a sigh. “There’s a possibility.”

They talked some more but not about very much, Atlas’s attention was very clearly elsewhere and Ginny didn’t think it was a good idea to throw things at each other in preparation for try outs so they simply chattered vaguely, Atlas offering occasional input before excusing herself to grab her new timetable from Minnie. Of course, Atlas had already applied for her courses this year during the holidays, she knew the gist of her timetable but Minerva also wanted to see her this morning.

Obviously, Atlas would respect that.

She made her way down to the Great Hall, finding that not one of her usual three were within, in fact, she was the only remaining Gryffindor sixth year who remained to be sorted with a timetable. Minerva was sitting at the top table, reading a newspaper and when she saw Atlas she seemed to smile and beckoned her closer, Atlas obliged jogging down the pathway between the tables and standing in front of Minerva.

“Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, Potions and Herbology,” Minnie read off as she slid the piece of parchment towards her, “Pomona was pleased with your mark and seemed thrilled when you applied to take it for your N.E.W.T’s. I’m sure Hagrid will also be pleased at least one of you signed up for his class.”

“One of us?” Atlas frowned.

“The other three to your quartet did not apply,” Minerva sighed and Atlas made a look of surprise but quickly nodded in vague understanding. Poor Hagrid. “Now, Atlas, you said so in your letters but are you absolutely sure that foolish old man did not send you on a perilous journey? You can lie through words but not to my face.”

“I promise, Minnie,” Atlas said with an exasperated yet fond sigh. “Professor Dumbledore might’ve enlisted my help in persuading Professor Slughorn over to the side of the faculty but nothing life-endangering.”

“Good,” Minerva hummed, nodding as the aged lady seemed to straighten her sheets of parchment, coughing, clearing her throat. “And you are well?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Miss Granger is very vocal when she worries,” Minerva said, looking at Atlas with a sly twinkle in her eye that had every bit of Atlas thinking of the conversation between herself and Ginny, she flushed and clenched her fists. “She asked if I had seen you as we were discussing her classes, you were not there when she woke, a thing not unlike you over the summer but worrying within Hogwarts, or so she claims.”

“I went flying.”

“You do remember Professor Dumbledore’s speech, do you not?” Minerva said, rubbing between her brows and Atlas baulked.

“Oh come on, it’s the Quidditch pitch.”

“Well forgive me for assuming you meant outside of Hogwarts grounds, you are not exactly the shining example when it comes to following rules, my dear,” Minerva said, scolding but light – only worried as most guardians were of their charges. “Regardless, remember you can come to me with anything that ails you.”

“I know,” Atlas said and then let out a puff of air, “I should go, Hagrid’s class starts soon.”

“Very well, I will speak with you another time my dear,” Minerva nodded and Atlas bid her farewell, tucking her timetable into her pocket as she hiked her bag higher up on her shoulder, jogged out of the courtyard and down to Hagrid’s hut in the distance.

Something twisted in her gut when she saw the man standing outside of his hut, nervously wringing his hands together and waiting apprehensively for students to arrive, he seemed to light up when he saw Atlas, a large beaming grin on his face as she clambered down the hill and thought up excuses for the others and their absences.

The poor man, he was an enthusiastic teacher and practically everyone in the class passed the elective last year but his lesson material was just too much for most, a lot of the students didn’t want to have to wrangle Blast-Ended Screwts or take Flubberworms on daily walks. Not that Atlas could blame them, Magical Creatures were hard to care for and it took a certain type of person to dedicate another two years to the subject. The crazy type with no care for self-preservation if it meant bonding with fantastic beasts.

And honestly, Atlas would take a Blast-Ended Screwt bite any day, she had bonded with a Unicorn, a Hippogriff – a whole branch of Bowtruckles, so what if Flobberworm dung was vile? She raised wolves. Literal wolves who slobbered all over her and brought her dead, decomposing things. But it was worth it because sometimes in the dead of night, she could hear the offspring of her old friends howling and ok maybe Lyra didn’t visit her, sadder yet, perhaps she had passed on, she was an old girl, but caring for them had brought Atlas joy. A rare, treasured, thing.

So of course she would attend Care of Magical Creatures, it seemed only right.

“Hey Hagrid,” Atlas greeted as she set her bag down and watched as the man searched up the hill, looking out for Harry, Ron and Hermione. It was heartbreaking. “They’re…they’re not coming Hagrid.”

“Not comin’?” Hagrid said, his large brows pulling together as he frowned and Atlas nodded. “Why not?”

“I…well,” Atlas was silent for a while, searching for words, grasping for excuses that would tame the hurt and betrayal festering in Hagrid’s eye, “Hermione’s already taking seven electives, she couldn’t possibly add another, Harry is having a hard time and you know Ron doesn’t go anywhere without him.”

“But I had a lot of excitin’ creatures this year,” Hagrid looked as if he might cry, his beard moving upward as he frowned deeply, looking off to the side.

“You can show me,” Atlas said, patting his arm. “I’m more than happy to write essays about whatever creature you bring.”

Hagrid seemed to remain defeated but nodded, starting the lesson with a startling lack of enthusiasm as he told Atlas about a flock of Diricrawl he had recently come across in the forest and his plans to teach the class – er – teach Atlas all about tending to them. The idea excited Atlas but with her professor’s downtrodden expression, she couldn’t quite express it without feeling some sort of guilt about it. The first lesson quickly came to an end, most of it just theory, an introduction Hagrid had intended on giving the entire class rather than just Atlas, and the apparent thought of it seemed to depress Hagrid further and by the time another class of the younger lot came for their lesson Hagrid was an unenthusiastic lump of sorrow, trudging through his pumpkin patch.

Her next lesson was Defense Against the Dark Arts, one she hadn’t been particularly thrilled about but knew it would be leagues better than any lesson they had the year prior, the thought alone made her pale. Although, she remembered how Snape had been as the defence teacher in the third year, brief as it might’ve been Atlas remembered how cruel the man was, crueller than in Potions. She sighed and prepared herself as she mounted the stairs and found Hermione already waiting, juggling mounds of homework.

“Hermione,” Atlas greeted, catching a book just as it fell out of Hermione’s grasp, even going so far as to take three-quarters of the load so that the girl could reorientate herself.

“Hey, you,” Hermione breathed, disgruntled as she shoved her books in her bag, a miraculous thing that swallowed up anything she put in it. She held it open and Atlas dropped the stack within, looking amused when Hermione huffed and blew hair out of her face. “Where were you this morning?”

“With Ginny,” Atlas said, “she wanted help to practise for tryouts.”

Hermione believed her, “Do you think she’ll make the team?”

“Of course,” Atlas nodded and leaned her back against the wall, looking sideways at Hermione, “Hagrid was sort of distraught during lesson.”

“Was there anyone else there besides you?” Hermione said with a regretful grimace and frowned even further when Atlas shook her head, “Well I’ve never very well been good at handling animals.”

“I don’t know, a lot of the creatures around the Burrow liked you,” Atlas noted and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Yes well, that’s a relatively new predicament.”

“Predicament?” Atlas quirked a brow.

“A skulk of foxes was terrorising my neighbourhood because of me,” Hermione lamented, flushing as she seemed to recall something embarrassing, “we had the police called, our neighbours complained I was feeding the wildlife but I honestly wasn’t, they just wouldn’t leave me alone. By God and the crows!”

“That sounds nice,” Atlas said, unsure of where the problem was.

“For you maybe, you love them and they love you,” Hermione grumbled. “I mean, it was nice but I kept waking up to can tabs and pennies all over the ground when I went to take out the bins or get something from my dad’s car. One followed me here, Atlas.”

“A crow?”

“Yes!” Hermione groaned and Atlas looked at her in amusement. “And God! The Runes homework is insane,” Atlas buckled in for the rant, watching Hermione intently, nodding in understanding, “A fifteen-inch essay, two translations, and I’ve got to read all those books by Wednesday!”

“I’m sorry about that,” Atlas said with a sympathetic smile,

“What did Hagrid give you?” Hermione asked, though it looked like she dreaded the answer. Everyone knew Hagrid was the kindest when it came to giving homework and often forgot.

“Second-hand sadness?” Atlas shrugged instead, eager to make her smile which it did, and even earned her a little giggle as a lovely bonus.

Just then Harry and Ron arrived, the two boys huffing and puffing and Atlas wondered why they did it to themselves, procrastinating so much they left it to the last possible second to descend four flights to get there when they had an entire break to ready themselves. Even worse, it was to Snape’s first class as Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor, he was bound to be up his own arse for the first few and overly eager to deduct points at a misplaced book. Why they tested the chances of fate Atlas wished she knew, she wanted their bravery or more accurately stupidity. Scratch that – nobody wanted that.

“Didn’t see you at breakfast,” Harry panted as Atlas greeted him.

“I was helping Ginny.”

Harry nodded and gripped her arm, “you haven’t been around to talk about Malfoy.”

“Draco? What about him?” Atlas questioned as Hermione and Ron simultaneously sighed.

The answer to Atlas’s queries would remain unsaid, as the door to their left was yanked open and Snape stepped out into the hall, hair greasy, face sallow, eyes narrowed to a permanent glare. Atlas was sure if the man were to ever stop glaring he’d receive permanent retina damage from the sudden sunlight.

“Inside.”

Everyone entered, walking past the professor with their heads bowed but eyes shifting, taking in the appearance of the classroom, it was dull and bleak, horrifically decorated in the sense that everything was black or looked slimy but also in the way he had organised his wall of pickled creatures and had donned the walls in diagrams of the Unforgivable Curses and other gory deaths.

Atlas sat and Hermione took the seat beside her, Harry and Ron on the table behind them as they dumped their bags under the table. Hermione made to retrieve her book from her bag but Atlas hastily reached out, shaking her head as she motioned to where Snape was standing, looking down his nose at those digging for their textbooks.

“I have not asked you to take out your books,” He drawled and Hermione tensed, shooting Atlas a grateful look as they settled into their seats and looked up at the sour man. “I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention.”

He looked at everyone, eyes lingering on some more than others.

“You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe,” Snape said, his words slow and precise, Atlas had to withhold the most absolutely devastating eye roll. “Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion, I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be more advanced.”

Atlas knew the number of passes in the class last year was wildly helped by the DA considering the highest rankers in the tests had been those within the secret club. Harry taught them all much more than any of their teachers sans Remus and the life lessons Moody had given. Even Atlas had contributed more with her experience, no matter how near the end of the club she had joined.

“The Dark Arts,” Snape began and there was something reverent in his voice, it made Atlas shiver, “are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible.

“Your defences,” Snape continued, his voice snappish, “must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures,” he indicated a few of them as he swept past, “give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse,” he waved his hand to a figure of a witch, writhing, mouth open in silent agony and Atlas felt a shiver of pain ripple up her arm, “feel the Dementor’s Kiss,” Snape had once been eager to sentence Atlas’s dad to that fate, to have his soul ripped from him, “or provoke the aggression of the Inferius.”

“Has an Inferius been seen, then?” Parvati said, her voice laden with worry as she inched forward in her seat. “Is it definite, is he using them?”

“The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past,” Snape confirmed, “which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now…” he returned to his desk, cape billowing most pretentiously behind him, “…you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of non-verbal spells.”

“Sir, some of us know how to cast non-verbals,” Dean said, raising his hand, Atlas could not help the swell of pride in her chest when Hermione shot her a little grin. The Slytherins looked at them across the room, gazes narrowed in quiet confusion, apart from Daphne who was twirling her hair with her wand and passing notes to Pansy and Milicent.

“And where, Mr Thomas, might you have learned this magic?” Snape said, clearly he was displeased as his lip curled up into a sneer.

“Atlas taught us,” Lavender beamed, oblivious to the tension this caused, Parvati nudged her a little but the girl only looked confused, leaning her ear down when Parvati sought to whisper into it.

“Are you confident in her lesson?” Snape said and Lavender looked at him, frowning her eyes flitting from him to Atlas who shot her an understanding look, motioning with her hand to stay quiet. “Is anyone else confident?”

Silence, though the Ex-DA members did look torn between loyalty and potentially facing the consequences of whatever Snape had in store for any who spoke.

“I will take that as a resounding no and assume Miss Black’s mediocre lessons amounted to nothing,” Snape said, his voice curt, sharp, abrupt, aimed to cut deep but Atlas experienced far worse in a simple ‘hem, hem’ from his predecessor. She was just glad Harry hadn’t done anything stupid. “Now, what is the advantage of a non-verbal spell?”

Nobody spoke, not even Hermione who was stubbornly glaring at Snape, her arms crossed tight as she seemed to fight the urge to raise her hand. Such an act of solidarity made Atlas swoon, it was a little pathetic actually. Snape’s eyes even seemed to sweep over Hermione, the displeasure on his face deepening. It had been not even twenty minutes and he was losing half of his class.

“Nobody?” Snape said curtly and turned to his blackboard, flicking his wand so that the chalk wrote out his words, “Your adversary has no warning to what spell you might cast, those who progress in using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some, lack.”

He swivelled back to the class.

“You will now divide,” he said, “into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on.”

Immediately, Atlas grabbed Hermione and dragged her to a corner of the room, pulling out her wand with a grin, Hermione mirrored the movement, rolling her eyes as she raised her wand. Some wordless exchange passed between them as they quickly realised they had not discussed who would do the attacking and who would do the defending but it was clear, honestly, truly because Atlas would never raise her wand at Hermione and Hermione always tried to best the witch in combat, a personal goal.

“Come on then, Granger,” Atlas goaded. “Show me what I taught you.”

Hermione cast a wordless Stunner and Atlas deflected it with a flick, the purple shimmery dome falling over her and ricocheting the red jet – red jet – to the wood. Atlas couldn’t help how her eye followed it, the air suddenly knocked out of her – red jet – as the wood was replaced with a chest. She blinked and blocked another red jet. She staggered backwards breathing unsteady as she fought back the sudden nausea, chest heaving as her eyes caught the other red jets flying across the room wordlessly by fellow Ex-DA members. Some landed square in the chest and Atlas watched as they fell backwards but stood again laughing it off.

Her chest was tight. She dropped her wand. Fell to her knee.

Polished black shoes stood before her, knees bending next covered by a skirt as two hands, pale and patient appeared before her. Atlas reached for them and took in a breath. “You okay?” Hermione whispered gently and Atlas nodded wordlessly.

“M’okay,” Atlas breathed and looked back up at Hermione, the girl’s eyes swimming with concern. “Sorry, let’s continue.”

“…ok.”

Hermione resumed position and so did Atlas, the girl shaking slightly but ready. She could see Harry and Ron observing her in her peripheral and swallowed down the lump in her throat, waiting for Hermione’s attack. When it came Atlas almost didn’t catch it her eyes widening as she swiped away the yellow jet of light, she paused looking at Hermione who smiled softly.

“Depulso is yellow, stronger version of the Stunner but I knew your shield would protect you,” Hermione explained and Atlas looked at her, really looked at her, fighting a sudden urge to express her deepest most affectionate feelings. The inside of her heart was grim, some mushy thing that beat the syllables of Hermione’s name.

Hermione, Hermione, Hermione —

“When did you learn Depulso, I didn’t teach you that,” Atlas said, somewhat breathless as she scolded her heart into submission.

“Sorry teacher, was self-study not allowed?” Hermione questioned with a huff.

“No, I just… never mind, that was good,” Atlas nodded stiffly, feeling as if she might combust.

They continued, Atlas always defending and Hermione always attacking, maybe it wasn’t practical and Hermione should practice her wordless protego but Atlas would rather die than partner up with someone else just as much as she hated the idea of stunning Hermione, honestly, she didn’t think she could if even seeing the spell reminded her of her father’s demise.

It was pathetic, most people feared the killing curse and here she was shaking over some stunner.

“Pathetic, Weasley,” Atlas heard Snape say as she idly swiped away one of Hemrione’s attacks, “Here — let me show you –“

Atlas watched as Snape spun around without warning and aimed his wand at Harry’s chest, her stomach lurching but inevitably settling when Harry shouted a loud “Protego!” That was so powerful it knocked the professor off-balance and into a desk.

A hush fell over the class.

“Do you remember me telling you we are practising non-verbal spells, Potter?”

“Yes,” Harry said, voice firm.

“Yes, sir.“

“There’s no need to call me ‘sir’, Professor,” Oh Harry, Atlas silently prayed despite having no religious beliefs, closing her eyes as Hermione gasped to cover up a giggle and a few others made equally as shocked sounds.

“Detention, Saturday night, my office,” Snape said. “I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter…not even the Chosen One.”

The class soon ended. And they were rewarded with such complex homework Atlas’s eyes hurt reading the cover.

“That was brilliant, Harry!” Ron beamed as they walked to break.

Atlas tucked her books under her arm, eyes drifting downward, falling on Hermione’s hand which swung teasingly between them as they walked side by side. An internal battle ensued as Atlas fought the urge to reach out and tangle their fingers together, she wondered if it would be perceived as weird – wondered if it’d be something casual, they’d held hands before, maybe not often as of late but they’d done it. It wouldn’t be weird even if the motivations behind it were because Atlas craved to touch the girl, her hair, her hands, her face, her —

“Are you listening?”

Damn. “Yes! Yes, I was — no, sorry, go on?” Atlas said sheepishly, looking between Ron and Harry who looked at her silently, expressions concerned. She realised quite quickly they had interpreted her silence as something worrisome and part of her wished they just assumed her silence was because she day dreaming about a girl. “What were you saying?”

“Are you all right, mate?” Ron asked.

“Is it about what happened with the stunners in –?”

“Dumbledore wants to arrange a meeting?” Atlas said, snatching up the letter Harry had been holding limply in his grasp. “Snape won’t be pleased, you can’t do his detention on Saturday.”

Harry frowned but said nothing, it seemed he couldn’t fault Atlas for her avoidance. By the looks of it, however, Hermione would be coaxing her into the library once again to talk in a sanctuary of their own making.

In the meantime, they discussed what Dumbledore might teach Harry, Atlas remained silent, having no clue and genuinely zero desire to pick apart Dumbledore’s motivations and plans. It was often exhausting work but she did nod along when Hermione suggested he could be teaching Harry some sort of advanced defensive magic and then actually sagged when she had to rush off to Arithmancy. The sudden awareness she felt of everything Hermione did, had her on alert always, especially after her conversation with Ginny that morning and the events of last night. She’d practically seized when Hermione had squeezed her hand goodbye.

“Pathetic,” Atlas mumbled and brought the side of her fist against her forehead as she fought the need to question everything.

“You ok?” Harry asked as the boy pulled out Snape’s homework, Atlas DID NOT follow and sank into the couch, melting like ice cream before a Pheonix.

“What did you want to tell me about Draco earlier?” Atlas found herself saying, desperate for anything to take her mind off of Hermione. Harry seized the opportunity, genuine hatred upon his mug as she pushed his homework aside and straightened.

“I heard him talking about Voldemort on the train, it’s why I was late he found me, petrified me and the train –” Harry shook his head as if determined to stay on track, “Tonks fetched me. Anyway, he was talking about how when He takes over, he isn’t gonna care about our educations, he’s gonna care about the level of devotion he was shown.”

Atlas nodded, that was probably how it would go if he were to win. He wouldn’t.

“Zabini sort of mocked him,” Harry grinned, amused by it, “said Voldemort doesn’t want unqualified people either but Malfoy said, ‘Maybe the job he wants me to do isn’t something you need to be qualified for.’.”

“Weird,” Atlas acknowledged. “So what were you thinking?”

“Draco’s gone and become a Death Eater.”

“Harry that’s a…bold accusation,” Atlas said, making a face, “I mean…I wouldn’t put it past Voldemort to recruit children,” Dumbledore was his teacher after all, “…but I mean…” she didn’t exactly know what to say and only managed a meagre, “he’s just a boy. He’s a bully but he’s still just a boy, and from what I’ve heard, some Pureblood families don’t want their children involved with Voldemort so early…maybe that’s the case for Narcissa.”

“What about Lucius, Draco’s always been a daddy’s boy, he’d want to join Voldemort if it meant pleasing dear old dad,” Harry said and Atlas nodded slowly.

“Maybe…maybe hold it on the accusations and just, I don’t know — watch him?” Atlas shrugged. “I’ll ask Daphne if –“

“No don’t!”

Atlas looked at Harry, her brows narrowed, “why not?”

“She’s part of his lot isn’t she?” Harry said,

“Which makes it even better,” Atlas said and huffed, rolling her eyes, “Harry, Daphne and I are friends,” both Harry and Ron baulked at this, “We became friends last year…sort of, look she’s actually all right, trust me – also she sort of owes me.”

After all, Atlas was the maker and only supplier of Astoria’s medicine, not that Atlas would hold it over Daphne’s head but she didn’t think the eldest Greengrass would go around biting the hand that feeds.

“Still…”

“Fine,” Atlas said, holding her hands up, “but if you get desperate…”

“I won’t.”

“Ok,” Atlas nodded dubiously and pulled out her Defence Against the Dark Arts homework as well, getting started on it. It was relatively easy stuff, just written in a way that made it seem more complex than it truly was but Atlas had been learning the structures of these questions since she was young, but it didn’t stop it from giving her a headache halfway through.

She always quickly realised they had missed lunch, much to her stomach’s dismay, when Hermione arrived.

“Here,” Hermione held out a sandwich. She was truly a gift weaved with magic. Atlas hugged her fiercely.

“Where’s ours?” Ron said, affronted.

“I could only sneak so much out of the Hall,” Hermione said dismissively as she sat beside Atlas and pulled out her own piles of homework, mounds more than the other three had. Atlas cast a look towards Hermione’s very spacious bag and then back to her sandwich.

“Here,” Atlas offered the boys a half each and Ron lunged, muttering thank yous as he munched whilst Harry took his half much slower, nicer as he smiled sheepishly when his stomach rumbled. Hermione sent her a look, “what?”

The girl sighed and rolled her eyes, ducking her head down to complete her homework. With Hermione’s help, the boys got along a lot faster than before and Atlas even helped the girl with some of her Ancient Runes essay, most of the knowledge stuff she had learnt from Dumbledore years ago. She even brought up things Hermione had not known, earning herself a starry-eyed thank you. The boys had only just finished their homework when the bell rang and they left for Double Potions, Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to stress over the very few things she had missed but Atlas promised to help her later.

When they arrived in the Potions corridor there were perhaps only a dozen students hanging around outside, a handful that had passed their O.W.L. grade, getting a mark good enough for Slughorn to accept them. Atlas spotted Daphne and nodded in greeting, the girl waving back discretely before turning back to her conversation with Pansy and Zabini whilst Malfoy stood off to the side, brooding. Atlas didn’t recognise the Ravenclaws but knew the green-eyed girl who glared at Hermione was a friend of Marietta’s and, lastly, Ernie Macmillan, the only Hufflepuff.

He was a pompous kid but good enough Atlas supposed. He even greeted the four of them excitedly, bragging about how most of the Ex-DA members had been not so caught off guard by Snape’s lesson and were able to cast both the Stunner and Protego without saying a word. Ron had gone pink but Atlas remembered the boy’s Protego, he was awfully good at it, it perhaps said something about his character that he wasn’t so good at the harming part.

The dungeon door opened, cutting their impromptu conversation short and Slughorn walked out into the corridor, his hands on his stomach as he motioned for them all to file into the room, he smiled at Zabini, grinned at Harry and positively beamed at Atlas. So wide she squinted – grimaced – as she walked past him.

“Didn’t catch you on the train,” Professor Slughorn said as he followed in after Atlas. The truth to the man’s statement was not lost on Atlas, this man had an obsession with collecting ‘trophies’ so to speak.

“I had other matters, I was sorry when I realised I’d missed it and thought it’d be rude to show up late,” Atlas said as she smiled awkwardly, the man was nice enough, cheerful, a sight for sore eyes when compared to Snape or any other recent hires of the past few years. But he was still odd.

“No matter, next time,” Professor Slughorn waved off as Atlas nodded and hurried over to Hermione only to be attacked by the most wonderful of smells. She covered her nose, taking in a breath as she winced.

Now that she wasn’t so focused on the professor there was an odd mix of smells in the classroom, three different potions boiling simultaneously, if she focussed she could discern each one but that required her to pull her hand away long enough to take several whiffs which would probably send her flat on her arse considering the one in front of her smelt so strongly of peaches and old books, leather and caramel tea.

Amortentia.

Atlas flushed and glanced over at Hermione who was a little dazed looking, even Ron and Harry had odd looks on their faces, the Slytherins stood around a cauldron of colourless liquid that didn’t seem to add anything to the amalgamation of smells but the middle one, surrounded by the three Ravenclaws and Ernie bumbled horribly, smelling like turnips and day old wet socks. Atlas had to cover her nose again.

“Now then, now then, now then,” Professor Slughorn began and Atlas tried desperately to focus on his figure moving through the misty pink that was surrounding her. “Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don’t forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making…”

He was interrupted by Harry who explained how both he and Ron hadn’t bought any supplies as they hadn’t known they’d be taking the class. Atlas was leaning against her desk for support, her head spinning as her skin grew feverish.

“Continuing on,” Professor Slughorn said, returning to the front of the class and spinning on his heel, rocking back and forth on his heels, “I’ve prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kinds of things you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of ’em, even if you haven’t made ’em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?”

He motioned to the one before the Slytherins and Hermione punched the air; Professor Slughorn smiled with a nod toward her.

“It’s Veritaserum, a colourless, odourless potion thar forces the drinker to tell the truth,” Hermione said.

“Very good, very good!” Professor Slughorn said happily. “Now,” he continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the Ravenclaw table, “this one here is pretty well known…Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too…Who can — ?”

Hermione again shot her hand up in the air and Atlas would have laughed if she wasn’t being smothered by Hermione’s perfume.

“It’s Polyjuice Potion, sir.”

That explained the barbaric smell. Atlas almost gagged at the idea of drinking the stuff.

“Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here…yes, my dear?” Professor Slughorn said, he looked amused by Hermione’s eagerness, motioning for her to continue with a dip of his head. Hermione was flushed as she answered.

“It’s Amortentia!”

“It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask,” Professor Slughorn said, laughing lightly as he motioned to Hermione’s obvious prowess, “but I assume you know what it does?”

“It’s the most powerful love potion in the world,” Hermione said, with pink to her cheeks.

It was such a pretty pink. Atlas was losing her mind.

“Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?”

“And the steam rising in characteristic spirals,” Hermione said enthusiastically, motioning to the tinted curls wafting from the cauldron, “and it’s supposed to smell differently to each of us according to what attracts us, for example, I can smell the forest and…treated wood…something metallic and…”

Hermione caught herself, covering her nose as she grew red in the face. Atlas watched the girl quietly, eyes widening in surprise at her reaction.

“What do you think our resident heartthrob smells?” Came Daphne’s voice and Atlas glanced over at her, glaring slightly as the girl grinned. Clearly, Zabini and Draco thought the girl meant to humiliate Atlas but in reality, Daphne stood there, arms crossed as she motioned in Hermione’s direction with a nod of concealed encouragement.

“I…” Atlas stuttered, voice cracking slightly as Professor Slughorn turned to her, smiling as if it was all in good fun – as if Hermione wasn’t standing right there. “Leather…” she muttered, holding her breath as she chewed on the inside of her cheek, “I guess, old books…something — something fruity and — and tea?”

“How wonderful, Atlas!” Professor Slughorn said sincerely, smiling at Atlas before looking over at Hermione who was lost in thought. “And you! May I ask your name, my dear?”

“Her — Hermione Granger, sir,” Hermione said, coughing to clear her throat.

“Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?”

“No. I don’t think so, sir. I’m Muggle-born, you see,” Hermione explained, seemingly saved from her daze as she smiled at the professor wryly. Atlas noticed how Malfoy leant close to Zabini and seemed to whisper something and so badly wanted to pour the scalding hot cauldron of Veritaserum over his entire body. She reminded herself, however, that such a thing would be frowned upon by the law.

“Oho! ‘One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she’s one of the best in our year!’ I’m assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?” Professor Slughorn smiled, clamping the boy’s shoulder, “And you, Atlas, defended her so vehemently, it’s no wonder!”

“Ah, yes sir,” Atlas nodded as Harry did the same.

“Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger,” Professor Slughorn said, nodding his head agreeably. “Amortentia doesn’t really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room — oh yes,” he said, motioning to those in the class who seemed to be smirking sceptically. “When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love…a dangerous thing, capable of creating monsters.”

When he turned his back as if to continue on, Atlas received a swift punch to her arm and turned, looking down at Hermione who was grinning up at her. “Defended me vehemently?”

“He was saying stuff about Muggle-borns that seemed a little ignorant,” Atlas murmured, her head spinning, Hermione was close to her and the Amortentia was very potent and she looked really kissable right now and Atlas was so sure Hermione had once said she smelt like the forest. She didn’t remember the other things but there was the fourth thing that had gone unspoken and she desperately wanted to ask. But she was completely tongue-tied because Hermione’s hands were behind her back and she had her hair up, when had she put her hair up? It didn’t matter, it was up and Atlas could see her face unobstructed, and oh her top button was undone, Atlas could see the pen she had once made pressed against Hermione’s collar and the little wooden Crookshanks beside it.

Where was her tie? Atlas didn’t know how to tie one but by Merlin would she offer if it meant she could do something of value for Hermione right now rather than stare at her dumbly, quiet, heart in her hands held out, offering.

“I thought you hated tea?”

A simple question really, Atlas’s stomach still lurched, “I do…maybe I’ve fallen for Trelawney.”

“That’s likely,” Hermione hummed and stepped away, moving back to her station and Atlas realised she had missed the rest of Slughorn’s speech and knew then and there the lesson would drag.

According to Ernie, who was apparently desperate to insert himself into the conversation between the quartet, the task was to create a Draught of Living Death and anyone closest to the desired outcome would win a small vial of Felix Felicis, Liquid Luck, a vial the colour of molten gold that made its drinker devastatingly lucky. Of course, it had its side effects, withdrawals so to speak, much like the healing waters in the Infirmary reserved for special cases, or the pool at the bottom of the lake Atlas would frequent during her fourth year.

And it sounded appealing, incredibly so even Hermione seemed to be trying hard to perfect her potion but Atlas would only be depressed by it, having a day filled with entirely luck and bliss only to go back to regular life after? Fighting for her life, lamenting over that one happy day knowing it could never be topped? It was far too tempting and would probably leave her devastated for years to come. She’d sit this one out, make the potion but make just enough errors someone else would win.

Although, if she won she could give it to Hermione.

Atlas stared at her ingredients, eyes flicking from the page to the cauldron and back to her book before huffing in defeat, submitting to the whim of her heart and making the perfect potion. Draught of The Living Death was a difficult potion to make but with the prize being a vial of luck it ought to be, Atlas tied up her hair as best she could, some of it falling out to rest at the nape of her neck as she rolled up her sleeves and grabbed her first few ingredients.

After spending a good portion of the year prior pouring over Potion texts in search of a medicine for Astoria’s curse, the draught was difficult but not impossible, gross when she had to drop in carefully sliced sloth brain and a little tedious when it came to squashing out the juices of her sopophorous bean but she remembered the way she had been taught when she was younger and cracked it open with the flat of her knife – it pooled across her cutting board and she scooped it up, dragging her finger against the flat of her blade so that the residue would drip into her cauldron.

The steam that exuded made her face flush as she blew a strand of hair out of her face and began to stir until it became paler and paler eventually appearing colourless much like Veritaserum. She smiled, satisfied and lowered her cauldron’s heat to simmer as she set down her spoon. It was just then Professor Slughorn announced that time was up and began examining the cauldrons of those in class.

He didn’t speak, occasionally sniffing or checking the ingredients used by students until he reached where Atlas, Hermione, Ron and Harry were stood. Atlas also peered around her friend’s cauldrons as Professor Slughorn did, eyeing Ron’s that bubbled like tar and hissed as Slughorn passed, it looked as if it would send someone into a death-like sleep, however, without the like. Someone would die if they drank it. Hermione’s was pale, almost transparent and Atlas smiled, looking up at the girl whose tied-up hair was very clearly attempting a prison break from her hair tie.

Then there was Harry, Harry whose potion looked much like her own. Perhaps it was a little rude how outwardly she expressed her surprise, she should’ve probably felt pride in the boy but instead, she felt a little put out. Professor Slughorn looked elated, even more so when he noticed Atlas’s potion was also brewed to perfection.

“The clear winners!” He cried out, clapping his hands together and clasping them, “Excellent, excellent you two! Good lord, it’s clear you’ve inherited your mother’s talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Same with you, Atlas, same with you! Amaya was talented, of course, but her talents lay elsewhere…”

Professor Slughorn’s comment about her mother caught Atlas wildly off guard as the man had not mentioned Amaya’s talents upon first meeting him, she also couldn’t help but think of Visha, a woman who had invented Mist, something Atlas couldn’t hope to replicate – she wondered if the woman would be prized by Slughorn for her talents and banished the thought. Visha might’ve spent a portion of her life with Newt Scamander trying to cure Blood Curses but she killed her own sister. Atlas’s mother.

“Now the predicament, two winners and one prize, not something you can share between you either,” Professor Slughorn seemed to frown, his cheer dropping as if frustrated that he could not provide the two trophies he wished to collect with adequate praise. “I could obtain another, however –“

“Harry can have it,” Atlas said rather quickly and she noticed the looks of surprise everyone seemed to shoot her.

“Truly?” Professor Slughorn said, his pale brows raised as even Harry seemed shocked.

“I don’t need it,” Atlas said with a smile.

“You don’t need luck?” Professor Slughorn said and seemed to bloat with something that seemed dangerous to Atlas, “preposterous suggestion but noble!” He cheered and clapped her shoulder. “Truly astonishing, very well, Harry, my boy,” the vial was handed to Harry, “use it well!”

As they slipped out of the class and headed for dinner, Hermione nudged Atlas, looking up at her curiously. Atlas made to speak, to give her reasoning but Harry had pulled out his potions book and placed it on the table before them after clearing a few platters of food out of the way. It looked like any old second-hand book, tattered and worn, pages ruffled and ripped, some protruding.

“I followed the instructions in this, that’s how I did it,” Harry explained as Hermione peered down at the book with a stern frown, “the previous owner scribbled all over it, crossing out things and adding new instructions.”

“So, that potion, it wasn’t exactly your work was it?” Hermione said, crossing her arms over her chest while Atlas continued to stare at the book. She’d been outbid by a book. Harry hadn’t even won with his wit. She’d lost out on giving Hermione a vial of Liquid Luck for this? She was a little miffed but not for the same reasons as others might be.

“He only followed different instructions to ours,” Ron defended, “Could’ve been a catastrophe, couldn’t it? But he took a risk and it paid off.” He seemed to grimace in disgust. “Slughorn could’ve handed me that book, but no, I get the one no one’s ever written on. Puked on, by the look of page fifty-two, but –“

“Hang on,” Atlas was knocked from her silent stewing of indignation by Ginny, who was standing behind Harry, looking down at him with something like anger on her face, “Did I hear right? You’ve been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book, Harry?”

“It’s nothing,” Harry assured and Atlas caught the look of trepidation on Ginny’s face as she regarded the book. “It’s not like, you know, Riddle’s diary. It’s just an old textbook someone’s scribbled on.”

Atlas had not been enrolled in Hogwarts at the time but she knew of Ginny’s possession through several conversations back when the Weasleys stayed at Grimmauld Place.

“But you’re doing what it says?” Ginny said with a pinched expression.

“I just tried a few of the tips written in the margins, honestly, Ginny, there’s nothing funny–“

“Ginny’s got a point,” Hermione said, perking up at once. “We ought to check that there’s nothing odd about it. I mean, all these funny instructions, who knows?”

“Hey!” Harry said indignantly as she flicked her wand and pulled Harry’s book towards her as if it had been catapulted. Atlas’s brow rose at the magic and she continued to quietly wonder when the girl had been learning all of these wordless incantations.

“Specialis Revelio,” she said, rapping it on the front cover. Nothing happened. Hermione looked about as put out as Atlas felt.

“Finished?” Harry said, irritated.

“It seems all right,” Hermione said but still looked at Harry in annoyance. “You should still apologise to Atlas.”

“What?” Atlas was startled, her eyes widening as her hand froze around a long silver spoon she was about to use to scoop up some lasagna. Ginny looked up from where she had chosen to sit beside Ron, looking at Atlas with a smirk.

“Sorry I followed the instructions I read in a book, Atlas,” Harry said and Atlas now looked at him, shaking her head with a slight smile.

“Harry, there’s no –“

“If everyone else in the class had the same instructions more people would have passed,” Hermione continued, her fists balled up into pale balls of fury, “even still Atlas didn’t have those instructions and she still made a perfect potion yet you got the prize.”

“I…” Harry seemed to sober up a little, his irritation subsiding as he turned slightly pink and looked at Atlas, “she’s right, sorry Atlas, if you want the prize, I mean…it’s yours,” he said and it looked as if it pained him to offer.

“No, it’s seriously ok,” Atlas huffed and pointed at Hermione with her thumb, “You’d be giving it to Hermione anyway, I was gonna give it to her if I won.”

“You — what?” Hermione spluttered as Ron almost choked on a spoonful of shepherd’s pie, Harry looked taken aback too but soon smirked slightly, his eyebrow raised while Ginny quietly chuckled to herself, head bowed.

“I’d have no use for it,” Atlas shrugged, looking at Hermione and was surprised to see the girl beaming at her, cheeks flushed. It was the look she had been hoping to receive when she’d won and handed the vial over to Hermione in the first place. Atlas grinned slightly herself, huffing nervously. “What?”

“Atlas, you are the unluckiest person I know,” Hermione laughed, tilting her head to the side as she stared at Altas unconvinced, “you’d need Liquid Luck more than anyone, certainly more than me.”

“I don’t know, I’m feeling pretty lucky lately,” Atlas shrugged again, jittery this time as she turned back to her food and kicked Ginny under the table whose face was practically cracking with a knowing and smug grin. She then added in a grumble, “You just looked like you wanted it…”

“So did the rest of the class,” Ron pointed out.

Atlas snorted then, looking at the boy across the table, “Yes well if it came between giving it to Ernie Macmillan and Hermione you wouldn’t see me skipping over to him, would you?”

They laughed and Atlas shook her head, glancing back to Hermione who was nudging her knee.

“What is it, Mi?”

“You were seriously going to give it to me?” Hermione whispered and Atlas rolled her eyes, flushing.

“It’s not a big deal,” Atlas insisted but Hermione’s expression said otherwise. “Seriously.”

“You…” Hermione closed her mouth, gritting her teeth together as she turned away, looked back, and made to speak again but ended up letting out an exasperated huff, making a little sound that told of some frustration. “Don’t look at me.”

Atlas’s eyes widened and she quickly obeyed, turning around to join back in with the conversation whilst Hermione seemed to deflate beside her and droop, her forehead resting against the table. Atlas patted her back but that seemed to make it worse so she soon stopped and smiled unsurely over at Ginny who was still grinning.