Chapter 92

It was the talk of the school. When the newspapers came down that morning, dropping into the hands of every student present, whether they were a subscriber of the Daily Prophet or not, it had caught very fast attention, like fire to dry kindling. The word spread, whispers turned outward chatter echoing through every hall, to every crevice and crack. Atlas couldn’t get away from it, Umbridge’s holier-than-thou face, her nose turned up in gross self-importance, plastered on the Daily Prophet’s front cover, news of her promotion, her appointment as High-Inquisitor plaguing every page of that week’s Prophet.

Even now, sitting in Potions, she couldn’t get away from it. Umbridge was supposed to be observing classes but Snape had, evidently, not been on her top priority list and that left room for the students to chatter as much as they liked. Or rather, as much as Snape would allow. And by the looks of things, he found some savage enjoyment in seeing Atlas uncomfortable and often smiled in her direction. Maliciously, of course, Snape wouldn’t be caught dead with a genuinely happy smile on his face. Idly, Atlas wondered if the man was born scowling.

Still, Atlas persevered, managing to brew a perfect solution to the poison Snape had prescribed them, much to his dismay. But it was hard, annoying in a way and a part of her wanted to grab her things and ditch the class, maybe she’d pour some acid over her hand as an excuse to see Poppy. She hadn’t seen the woman once since coming back and though that was, essentially, a good thing, Atlas did miss the woman, she was basically her other godmother by all accounts.

Instead, she remained silent, acid remaining corked as she sat hunched over her cauldron until the end of the class where Snape had begun idly giving out their marked moonstone essay’s, something Atlas had done the day she’d been given it. She waited quietly, tucking away her books and watching for the marked parchment in her peripheral while trying to ignore the idle whispers of Umbridge’s promotion.

She frowned when Snape returned to the front, all of the marked homework returned to its owner. Well, all of it except Atlas’s. She looked around, wondering if she had just knocked it on the floor in her stupor, or if Snape had placed it in an annoyingly hidden spot just to trouble her but no, it was nowhere to be seen. Reluctantly, she raised her hand, Snape’s eyes immediately sweeping over to her where he nodded for her to speak.

“Professor, you haven’t given me my homework back,” she said.

“That’s because I’m going to be using it as an example for my future lessons,” Snape droned and a few of the Slytherins across the room snickered, pointing at the dismayed look on Atlas’s face. She couldn’t have done that bad, could she?

“Yeah, he’s probably going to use it as an example of what a Troll looks like,” Draco smirked and Atlas sighed, frowning as she rubbed between her brows. She was supposed to be good at Potions.

“Actually, Mr Malfoy, I’ll be using it as an example of what an ‘O’ level essay looks like, miraculous as it seems, Miss Black has gotten the highest mark in the class,” Snape sneered and the look of disdain on his face and reluctant praise was enough to chase away even the darkest clouds hanging over Atlas’s head, “and suffice it to say, Mr Malfoy, you are in no position to make fun of another’s grade.”

A few laughs echoed from the Gryffindor’s side of the dungeon.

“In actual fact, the general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination.” The room went silent, all joy dissipating in an instant, “I expect to see a great deal more effort for this week’s essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get a ‘D’. Dismissed.”

Atlas stood and slung her bag over her shoulder, the bandage of her right hand catching on the sleeve of her robe, she frowned and tightened the fabric, flexing her fist to check its security before moving to leave the classroom. However, a firm figure stood in her path and Atlas found herself staring directly into eyes of amber, kissed by the light of the afternoon through the tinted dungeon windows. Atlas blinked once and then once again, shaking herself from her stupor and sudden entrapment. She hadn’t expected Hermione to be waiting for her.

“Hermione, what are you — ?”

“Is your hand ok?” Her eyes were now pools of concern and Atlas found she could not stand to look her in the eyes any longer, so she looked away and laughed lightly, urging the girl out of the room and away from Snape who was glaring at them over some paperwork. But Hermione’s worries did not seem to ease and she became relentless in her pursuit for Atlas’s hand.

“It’s fine, Hermione.”

“You dripped a trail of blood all the way to Ginny’s dorm room,” Hermione stated and Atlas grimaced.

“So you knew Ginny lied when she said she hadn’t seen me?”

“Of course,” Hermione nodded naturally and Atlas sighed, flexing her fingers idly. “I think what you said to Sirius was really admirable, Ron does too and so does Harry, though he hasn’t admitted it yet he’s been fiddling with that ring you gave him all morning. I think you two will be all right.”

“Sure…” Atlas hummed and Hermione stared at her as they walked, analysing the expression on her face, eyes trailing the side of her profile, across the faded freckles of her cheeks, gone like the brilliance that usually lit up her eyes and the unusual paleness to her scars, the messiness of her regularly kept hair and the dark bags that hung beneath her eyes. She looked dull and worn.

Her hand had moved before she could stop herself and Atlas turned to her, eyes wide and lips parted slightly while Hermione simply stared, brows furrowed as she gently caressed her cheek with a careful thumb. 

“What?”

“…nothing,” Hermione muttered and drew her hand back, looking a little solemn. 

“It’s clearly not nothing, you haven’t touched my face like that in ages,” Atlas pointed out, looking at the girl, confused, “you usually do it when I’m upset but…well, wait, do I look upset to you? Is my face upset?”

“No,” Hermione chuckled lightly. “You just look tired.”

“Oh, well, yeah,” Atlas smiled half-heartedly, shrugging as she dug her hands in her pockets. “I suppose I am, cramming all that homework in was rough,” she excused and Hermione made a noise, nodding idly as if she didn’t really believe that was her entire reasoning. She was right to, of course. “Worth it though, can’t believe Snape gave me an ‘O’, can you?”

“Naturally, you’re the best at Potions. You’re probably the smartest person I’ve ever met,” Hermione smiled, tilting her head to the side as she looked at her, Atlas stared back a moment before laughing, a light flush to her cheeks as she settled to a grin.

“No way, have you looked in the mirror lately? Come on, Hermione, everybody knows you’re the brightest witch this school has seen in millennia,” Atlas urged, nudging Hermione slightly but the witch shook her head with a small smile, looking at Atlas incredulously.

“I can’t accept that, you top me in every subject except Herbology.”

“Practically, maybe but in theory, you’re miles ahead, you probably know loads more spells than me,” Atlas smiled but Hermione rolled her eyes.

“What good is knowing spells when I can’t use them?”

“You saved mine and Harry’s neck last year with the Tournaments!”

“You didn’t accept my help for the first task, we couldn’t find any spells for the second and you already knew the ones I tried to teach you for the third,” Hermione mused and Atlas couldn’t retort anything to that, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly. All the while, Hermione looked up at her, entertained. “I’m flattered you think so highly of me, Atty but you’re simply better.”

“What? No, no, no,” Atlas rushed and stood in front of Hermione, blocking her path, “Ok, so maybe I’m stronger now but that’s because I have experience! You’re still the brightest and the most promising witch in our school. And — and don’t forget I started learning before you! Whenever Minerva gives us spells to perform in Transfiguration — !”

“You get them first try,” Hermione interrupted, crossing her arms in amusement. 

“Because I’ve practised them to death before, I never started out like that you know! The truth is I needed all the help I could get when I was younger, sure there were things that came naturally to me but you get most spells on your third or fourth try! You’re brilliant!” Atlas gushed with a wide grin, hands out in front of her as if to accentuate her point, Hermione simply stared at her, smiling fondly. “Do you — do you understand?”

“No,” Hermione grinned and continued, leaving Atlas at the bottom of some stairs while she continued upward, the smell of lunch teasing the air, “come on, we need to get you some lunch, our free period is almost over.”

“Hermione!” Atlas whined and ran after her, desperate to get her point across, “look, you really are smarter than me.”

“I’m hardly smarter,” Hermione laughed, “I’m smart, yes, and, ok, I pick up spells quite quickly with proper tutoring,” she nodded and Atlas nodded as well, “but to say I’m smarter than you is idiotic, and you’re not idiotic, just lacking self-esteem.”

“I’m not,” Atlas huffed, insulted as they walked into the hall, the chatter louder and louder. Hermione simply laughed, sitting down and placing her bag by her feet, Atlas grumbled and sat down also, immediately stabbing a few sandwiches with her fork and dumping them on her plate.

“Yes, Atty, you really are,” Hermione told and shook her head when she saw the look on Atlas’s face. “How about this?” That seemed to intrigue the girl as she inclined slightly, still chewing on her sandwich but listening with every ounce of her attention, “I’m the brightest and you’re the strongest.”

“Well…I suppose that’ll do,” Atlas nodded slowly and cringed when the bell rang overhead, “bloody hell, I didn’t even get to finish.”

“I did say our free period was almost over,” Hermione said and Atlas sighed, rubbing between her brows and taking a few more bites out of the food that was steadily disappearing from her plate. She stood when it had all disappeared and grabbed her bag, pulling on her cloak as she turned and looked at Hermione, swallowing, hard.

“I’ve got Divination so I’ll see you in…Defence Against the Dark Arts,” she grimaced and Hermione smiled sympathetically, reaching up with one hand to smooth down the girl’s hair while the other fixed her crooked tie. When Atlas didn’t look at all brightened Hermione kissed the palm of her hand and lightly tapped Atlas’s cheek.

“Smile, idiot, you need to stop frowning, it’ll become permanent and those crystals will have no hope of cleansing your…negative aura,” Hermione said, her last few words laced with a thick mystical accent, mimicking – quite accurately – that of Professor Trelawney. Atlas managed a small smile at that, rolling her eyes as she fidgeted with the leather band around her wrist, the crystals feeling warm through the hide of her left glove. “Now, go, as much as I like spending time with you, I don’t love you enough to condone you ditching classes, even if it is Divination.”

“Yet.”

“What?” Hermione chuckled as she collected her things, Atlas smiling as she slowly walked backwards.

“You don’t love me enough yet!” Atlas grinned, the word foreign on her tongue, a little strange and hesitant as it always was when Atlas consciously and purposefully said the word but she managed it nonetheless and Hermione mirrored her grin, looking childishly elated as she laughed and shook her head, books clutched tight to her chest.

The other students surrounding got up to leave also and soon Atlas was hurrying ahead of the crowd, wanting to put as much distance between herself and the gossip as possible. Of course, this led to her being the first to class and she helped Professor Trelawney set up the tables and chairs while other students slowly trickled inside. The lesson went on as usual, Atlas sat on her own and read her dream diary while Trelawney floated throughout the classroom, looking over the shoulders of everyone present.

She was particularly intrigued by Atlas’s diary and upon seeing the few nightmares she’d logged she praised her student for her honesty and mercifully refrained from reading out her private and very personal dreams to the class. It was then that Atlas felt a sudden appreciation for her Divination teacher and noted that the woman wasn’t really as bad as she’d originally thought, she was just eccentric, always excited and eager to prophesies, maybe it was to do with proving herself, as a seer and a capable professor. Atlas didn’t care, she knew Trelawney wasn’t a total fraud after her reading in the Third Year.

And it was when Atlas had finally found the last meaning to one of her dreams in her Dream Oracle that the trap door in the floor opened, revealing a very pink lady at its top. Atlas immediately averted her gaze and went back to her book, engrossing herself in the lesson and blocking the woman’s shrill voice from reaching her ear. Umbridge wandered around the classroom, asking the occasional question to those Slytherin students she passed, Atlas didn’t really know, she wasn’t paying attention.

A few hairs stood on end at the back of her neck as Umbridge stopped in front of her and she swallowed, slowly looking up and donning a mask of formality and respect. She was met with a sickly sweet smile and her stomach automatically turned, doing flips by the dozen when the woman moved to her side and decided to take up residence in the seat beside her. The stench of the woman’s perfume was amplified somehow by the sudden lack of incense in the class, Professor Trelawney had evidently neglected to light any, making the grotesque fumes of Umbridge’s perfume all that more noticeable.

She hadn’t really noticed in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, with the windows wide open and the lingering smells of creatures that had lived and passed through the room still remaining to haunt the air. She hadn’t even noticed in the woman’s office, where the smell was bound to be all the more overpowering but Atlas remembered, instead, the smell of sugar and that hadn’t bothered her, she quite liked sweet things after all. But this odour, this stink was something different and Atlas was sure she had grown quite pale, she could feel the sweat lining her brow.

“Are you all right, Atlas?” Umbridge asked, that mock concern laced on her tongue. Atlas tensed, flinched even as Umbridge raised her hand, watching with clear trepidation as the woman placed it against her cheek, her feverish skin. “You look quite pale.”

“I’m fine…” Atlas managed, her words wobbly as her cheek grew hotter beneath the woman touch, some phantom pain of punishments long since past coming back to nip at her face. “I just feel a little hot.”

“I can open a window,” Neville offered quietly and Atlas glanced over at him, swallowing solidly when Umbridge finally pulled away.

“There will be no need,” Umbridge waved off before Trelawney could encourage the boy’s suggestion. “Atlas will go to the infirmary, she’s clearly showing signs of illness, in fact, she should take the rest of the day off, I think.”

“I still have –“

“Defence Against the Dark Arts? And who teaches that class, Atlas?”

“You…”

“Pardon?”

“You, Professor Umbridge,” Atlas stated, more firmly this time as Umbridge smiled and nodded, that high ‘hem, hem‘ echoing throughout the classroom. Then, when Atlas had settled her dizzying vision enough, she stood, breathing out shakily through her nose as she did not trust herself enough to open her mouth without emptying her lunch upon Trelawney’s nicely made hand-crafted carpets. 

To excuse herself, she bowed her head slightly and waved, picking up her bag and carefully pulling open the hatch in the floor. She opened her mouth then, taking in breaths of air untouched by Umbridge’s vile perfume and hurried down the stairs as soon as her foot touched solid ground. Her entire appearance was that of an incredibly sickly person and as she crashed into the nearest bathroom, she had to stumble over to a toilet just to disgorge her afternoon lunch into the bowl.

She heaved until the stench no longer made her stomach twist, until there was nothing left for her to flush and her throat had grown sore from exertion, she fell against her cubicle wall and bunched up her knees, hugging them tightly to her chest as she cried into her arms. The dizziness had remained, paining her to an aggravating degree and Atlas’s cries soon went from desperation to anger and then, finally, to fatigue and they withered out, leaving her to sniffle, alone, eyes raw and red with emotion she didn’t know what to do with.

The door to the bathroom opened in the distance and Atlas vaguely heard the door clasp shut, followed by the soft clicks of hurried heels against the bathroom floor and then, her cubicle door was pulled open and Poppy was there, stood, her hands on her hips but her stern expression inevitably turning soft.

“I was just thinking of coming to see you in my lesson with Snape,” Atlas mused hoarsely, “thought of pouring acid on my hand or something…”

Poppy sighed and held out her arm, “come on, Atlas. Up you get.”

“But it’s nice and cold in here, the hospital is stuffy and smells bad,” Atlas complained, eyes heavy and lidded. Poppy regarded her a moment and then, with all the grace of the wisened lady she was, she sat beside the girl, grimacing at the uncleanliness of the floors and immediately sanitising her hands.

“Could you tell me what happened?”

“I just got overwhelmed,” Atlas shrugged, her head falling against the woman’s shoulder. “Umbridge is just — she’s a cursed chest of memories I’d rather forget, leave in my past but she’s so…determined to make me relive everything. No matter how tightly I conform, how tightly anyone conforms, she’s determined to make our lives miserable…”

“The woman is vile, I have made several complaints to Professor Dumbledore but he tells me it is out of his hands,” Poppy explained and Atlas closed her eyes, feeling something helpless forming in her gut. “I’m sorry, Atlas. There’s nothing I can do to truly help.”

“It’s ok,” Atlas whispered and Poppy frowned, hooking an arm around the girl’s shoulders and rubbing her arm up and down in an attempt at comforting her.

“How have you been?”

“Umbridge aside? Still pretty naff,” Atlas laughed humourlessly, her features bitter as she scowled at the wall opposite. “Merlin, why can’t I just have one year of normality? Why is it always so complicated?”

“I can’t answer that sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t expect you to,” Atlas muttered and then sighed, “I’m sorry, you probably have people waiting for you in the hospital, you should go back.”

“As far as I’m concerned you’re now a patient also,” Poppy said and though Atlas smiled slightly she shook her head.

“Aside from that I think I just want to be alone for now,” She said but Poppy didn’t move to leave looking upon her doubtfully, “please, Poppy, I have the rest of the day off, I just want to sit for a moment.”

“All right,” Poppy conceded and stood, dusting herself off and quickly sanitising herself down with some wordless spell from her wand, Atlas watched her silently, her right eye crinkling when Poppy leant down and took her face up in her hands, kissing the right side of her forehead. “Take care, Atlas and do not hesitate to come and see me, injured or not, I’ll make you a nice hot chocolate.”

“I’ll take you up on that some time,” Atlas smiled, “bye Poppy.”

“Goodbye, Atlas,” the woman nodded and Atlas listened as the woman’s footsteps faded away, returning her face to her arms where she stayed, eyes closed, sitting alone and listening to the rhythmic drip of a leaky tap a few doors away. After a while of sitting, humming occasionally to fill some of the silence, she stood and left her stall, shuffling over to the sinks that randomly dotted the walls and whisking one on, watching a moment, as the basin flooded with water.

Then, in one swift motion, she splashed herself in the face, her eyes stinging unpleasantly as she inhaled a portion of the water through her nose, causing a sort of burning pain to shoot through her face. She grimaced and exhaled sharply, shaking her head as a few droplets of water flung from the loose strands of hair that framed her face. She felt better, the salty tears that had stained her cheeks washed away in an instant and her nose no longer felt clogged, her breaths became steady and she took a step back, examining herself in the mirror.

Yes, she still looked like she had been crying for the past two hours. Exactly as she had predicted.

She huffed out a laugh at her reflection and rubbed at her eyes, letting out a quiet groan at the fatigue she could already feel crawling up her spine. It was definitely time to go back, the Common Room’s would be ripe with activity, a hot spot for gossip so she wouldn’t stay there, she’d probably just go to sleep, get an early night. She turned for the bathroom door, swinging it open with a yawn and stepping outside, right into a small figure who’d previously had his very large ear pressed against the old oak door.

“Fobbo?”

“Miss Atlas!” Fobbo cheered and Atlas crouched down, a small smile on her face as she embraced the elf. “Fobbo has missed you, he has!”

“I came and did my homework with you a few days ago,” Atlas said, cocking her head to the side as she stood and walked with the elf down the hall, his small hand in hers. “Why have you missed me?”

“Fobbo always misses his Miss!” He told earnestly, nodding so that he looked as if he were a bird getting ready to take flight. “Fobbo is wondering, he is wondering if the Miss misses him also?”

“Of course I do, Fo. I just have things going on right now, I’m sorry,” Atlas offered and then sought to change the subject, she didn’t want to get into just what those ‘things’ were and knew Fobbo would be naturally curious so it was better to steer clear. “Have you met anybody lately? Made any new friends?”

“Fobbo supposes he has but Miss Atlas will always be Fobbo’s closest friend!” He declared resolutely and Atlas gave him a tired smile.

“Tell me about them.”

“Well…Fobbo was in the library, he was and a book caught his eye. Fobbo knew he could not get the nasty librarian because she hates Fobbo, so he looked at it from a very long way away. Then, a girl came in and took it from the shelf and…well, Fobbo he is really wanting this book…”

“Fobbo, did you steal the book from the girl?” Atlas sighed and Fobbo rushed to explain himself, waving his hands around.

“Yes! Yes, Fobbo did take the book and he is a very bad elf! Very bad! But he knows this and he — he goes to put it back he does but the girl catches him!” Fobbo continued and Atlas watched him carefully, walking up a flight of stairs, her Common Room only a floor away, “but instead of scolding him, the girl says that Fobbo can have the book so, she is his friend! But…Fobbo has not seen her in a very long time.”

“Oh? What house was she in? Maybe I can find her for you?” Atlas offered, the two of them stopping at the top of the stairs.

“Really?”

“Yes, Fo. I’ll find your friend.”

“Miss Atlas’s kindness knows no bounds!” Fobbo beamed and while Atlas smiled she also urged for him to carry on, she did not want to set Fobbo off on one of his long and very flattering monologues on how great she was. “Yes, yes, ok. Fobbo recalls that she had the green tie!”

“Slytherin?” Atlas frowned, furrowing her brows, “the snake house?”

“Yes, that is the one!”

“A Slytherin was nice to you, Fobbo?” Atlas asked and Fobbo nodded obliviously, his big eyes staring up into hers. “Well, what year was she in?”

“Fobbo does not know but he does know that she is a lot younger than the Miss and…”

“And what, Fo?”

“She is sick,” Fobbo muttered, suddenly quite solemn, “Fobbo can sense it, it’s a sickness in her blood.”

“A blood curse?”

“Fobbo thinks so.”

“But, Fo, nobody at Hogwarts has a blood curse, in fact, blood curses are practically unheard of in this day and age,” Atlas said, looking confused. But if Fobbo could sense it, did that mean someone was hiding it? A Slytherin would definitely do that, especially if they came from a family who raved the Pureblood Mania that still hadn’t died with the years. “I’ll look into it, Fo.”

“Fobbo thanks the Miss,” he bowed. “Now, Fobbo must go back to the kitchens, he wished to find you only to hear your voice.”

“You’re sweet, Fobbo,” Atlas smiled, bending down to give him a quick hug, “I promise I’ll visit soon.”

“Please stick to that, Miss,” Fobbo beamed and disappeared with a click of his fingers. 

The few sparks that told of his magic fizzled out in the air and Atlas stood, silently for a while, contemplative, until she began moving again. She tried to think of who might be afflicted with a blood curse but no names came to mind, she hardly knew the names of those in the younger years of her own house let alone the younger years of Slytherin and she definitely couldn’t think of anyone who would be so kind as to help an elf, not even a fair few students of the other houses would do something like that.

It was strange and though she really didn’t need another thing on her plate, she wanted to help Fobbo. He’d been her friend growing up, just as much as Lyra had, he’d cooked her meals and taught her how to tie her shoelaces, she felt she owed it to him to find his mystery friend. In due time, of course, she didn’t even know where to start so she’d have to find some sort of lead first.

She sighed and jogged up the rest of the stairs, almost bumping into another pair of figures when she rushed for the Lady’s painting. “Merlin, I’m bumping into everyone today,” Atlas laughed tiredly, looking down at Parvati and Lavender, the two of them staring up at her in shock. “What? You look like you’ve run into the Bloody Baron or something.”

“You’re about as pale as him,” Parvati quipped and Lavender lightly hit her shoulder, looking at Atlas in concern.

“Are you ok, Atlas? That Umbridge woman was horrible to you in Divination, you should have seen Professor Trelawney’s face, she really did look like she wanted to help you when you left. She’s a really sweet lady!” Lavender rambled and Atlas slowly nodded, placing her hands on the girl’s shoulders to calm her down.

“No doubt, Lav. I’ve always thought Trelawney was all right but please, calm down a bit yeah? You’ll give me a headache,” Atlas pleaded, wincing at the pain she could feel budding at the back of her skull. Lavender grimaced apologetically while Parvati took a step forward, looking regretful. “Merlin, I know that face, please don’t tell me right now, maybe in the morning or something?”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll have a choice if you go inside,” Parvati told, wringing her hands together. Atlas sighed and resigned to her fate, nodding for the girl to go on. But, Parvati looked hesitant, as if she didn’t really want to tell her and though that would be fine with Atlas she was growing quite agitated and donned a look of frustration. It was a very clear motivator for the girl. “Oh, Godric, ok, so, you weren’t in Defence Against the Dark Arts and me and Lav think that was Umbridge’s whole plan. The lesson was going as normal, Hermione asking questions, Umbridge answering them but Harry, well –“

“He shouted out about you-know-who again!” Lavender rushed, quickly clamping her hands over her mouth when the words left her. 

“That wasn’t the only thing but yeah, he got detention, for the entire week starting tomorrow,” Parvati finished and Atlas stared quietly, her left arm shaking as she brought it up to her face and pressed her trembling palm to her head. “We all tried to, you know, stick up for him but it didn’t work. Atlas, we’re really sorry, we tried to –“

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” Atlas said, with a certain coolness to her voice as she then turned, tired eyed and smiling half-heartedly, the portrait swung open as she touched the frame. “Thank you for telling me…”

“Of — of course, Atlas!” Lavender nodded as Parvati watched her worriedly.

“What are you going to do?”

“I…I don’t know,” Atlas said and shook her head, stepping inside and refraining from closing the portrait behind her in case Parvati and Lavender wanted to follow but they didn’t and it closed on its own, quietly behind her. She found a familiar trio of heads sat on the couches in the middle of the otherwise surprisingly deserted Common Room and somehow willed herself to venture over, stopping in front of Harry, glaring at him as he looked up from his conversation with Ron. 

“Atlas, you should let him explain, he was only –” Hermione tried but Atlas didn’t listen.

“What is wrong with you?” Atlas whispered, her voice cracking and sounding so weak Harry visibly flinched. “Could you not see that I was trying — I was really trying to protect you from Umbridge? Or were you too busy wallowing in your own puddle of self – fucking – pity? I get it, you’re going through some shit, you’re angsty and you’re dealing with what happened last year but guess what? So am I yet you still seem hell-bent on giving me more shit to deal with anyway.”

“I never asked you to protect me from Umbridge,” Harry remarked.

“Yeah well, Dumbledore did,” Atlas snapped, throwing her hands up in the air as Harry went wide-eyed, looking suddenly confused, just as both Ron and Hermione did, “Dumbledore clearly sees that you need protecting because he knows you’re a loose – fucking – canon.”

“He didn’t –“

“Like it matters, Harry!” Atlas cried, “why couldn’t you have shut your mouth? Why couldn’t you have just sat down and got on with our shitty work? When I have told you, so many fucking times to ignore her? To stay out of Umbridge’s way?”

“I was having a go at her because of what she did in Divination! To you!” Harry shouted and Atlas shook her head, stumbling backwards into the chair behind her with a look of anguish on her face. “It was out of order, Atlas! Everyone saw how uncomfortable she made you and I had to say something! You said you wanted to protect me? Well, I want to protect you too! You’re my sister, Atlas, of course, I want to protect you!”

“I don’t need you to protect me.”

“Well then I can say the same for myself, I don’t need you to protect me either.” Harry spat.

“No…no, no, no, you don’t get it, do you?!” Atlas said, standing again and shaking her head as she advanced and gripped her godbrothers shoulders, looking at him desperately while Hermione and Ron exchanged glances, wondering if they should intervene. “I need to protect you!”

“No, you don’t!”

“Yes, I do!”

“Why!?”

“Because I can’t stand the thought of letting the only brother I have left suffer because I failed to protect him! Not again!” Atlas cried, her voice cracking so violently it sounded as if it physically hurt, the grip she had on Harry’s shoulders tripled and no doubt grew uncomfortable but she persisted, “and Umbridge is a foul — foul woman who will try and hurt you and she will succeed, just like she’s done before but I don’t want you to experience that hurt, so I will throw myself in front of every fucking curse, spell or detention with that woman, for all three of you because I can not do this again! I cannot let the people I care for get hurt! Never again! Do you understand!?”

“Atlas –“

“Say that you understand!” Atlas urged and let go, dropping her face in her hand to hide the few desperate streaks that had run down her cheeks, “please just…just say you understand…”

“I — I understand,” Harry muttered, his voice softer, “Atlas, I’m –“

“I need to find Umbridge,” Atlas whispered and took in a breath, turning to leave the Common Room, “I’ll be back in a moment, I think I can convince her, strike a deal, just –“

“No, don’t.”

“Did you not hear anything I just said?” Atlas breathed, looking at her godbrother hopelessly, her eyes dull and whole manner entirely worn. “I have to.”

“She’ll make you do it with me, she already said today in class that if you were to ask she’d shorten it down to half a week but you would have to do it with me,” Harry explained. “Look, just…let me take the detention, I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I’ve been an arsehole to you, Atlas.”

“Yeah, sure but you don’t deserve –“

“It’s just lines.”

“Right…lines…” Atlas whispered and shook her head, the image of Umbridge in her head smiling. Their little secret. Atlas couldn’t bring herself to speak, she wanted to tell them, show them maybe but her bandaged fist clenched and her throat closed. She, instead, nodded. “Just lines…”

“Look, Atlas, we should talk –“

“Not now, Harry,” Atlas mumbled and shook her head, “I just…I need to sleep, all right? We can talk some other time but right now — right now, I just…”

“Ok, all right I –“

“Come on then,” Hermione cut in and stood, moving over to Atlas, “I’ll take you up.”

“Right,” Atlas nodded, blindly following Hermione up the stairs to their dorm in silence, expecting something, anything, but nothing came and instead, when they got inside, Hermione simply smiled and pulled back Atlas’s blankets for her. “Why aren’t you asking questions?”

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“You’re usually really nosy.”

“Ouch, Atty,” Hermione grimaced playfully and pulled the girl over, urging her to lay down, “that hurt my feelings.”

“No, it didn’t…”

“You’re right,” Hermione nodded with a small smile and kissed her hand, tapping Atlas’s cheek lightly. “Now go to sleep.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Pardon?” Hermione huffed and Atlas slowly pointed to her cheek blearily.

“You kissed me on the cheek within the first week of getting to know me and then a few times after that but this year…you do the hand thing, I’m not opposed, I’m just wondering,” Atlas mumbled, staring up at Hermione through steadily closing eyes. “Please answer…I just want to take my mind off of things for a moment, before I go to sleep with it at the front of my mind. I don’t want to have another nightmare…”

“All right, Atty…to answer your question, I hadn’t noticed,” Hermione murmured quietly, “I do it with my parents…though, I learnt it from my dad because he used to do it to my mum.”

Atlas hummed tiredly, “Does that mean you’re your dad and I’m your mum?”

“What?” Hermione chuckled, “Atty, you’re exhausted.”

“I’m just saying, it sounds like I’m your wife,” Atlas yawned.

“You’re delirious…” Hermione waved off quietly. “You’ve had a tough day. Try and get some shut-eye, all right?”

“Yes, husband…”

“I’m not your husband, Atty.”

“Wife then.”

“…you’re ridiculous.”