Chapter Text
Vera linked arms with Nerida as they exited the pub and set off down the path. Grace and Imelda followed close behind, also arm-in-arm. Leaves crunched underfoot, the sun gently warming her face— one last gift from Mother Nature, staving off the imminent winter chill for a little while longer.
“I’ve never been to Anne’s house,” Nerida said, looking eagerly ahead towards Feldcroft. “This was a perfect idea, Vera.”
“But I thought you’d all been friends for years,” Vera said in surprise. “And Feldcroft is so close. You’ve never been to visit?”
“Anne never seemed too keen to come home during the school year,” Grace spoke up. “She always suggested Hogsmeade on the weekends, mostly.”
“Not to mention all the extra time on the pitch,” Imelda added with a note of pride. “Not for nothing is she one of the best Chasers Slytherin’s seen in years.”
“So you’ll have to be the one to show us around, for once.” Nerida grinned. Vera smiled back, but couldn’t shake a persistent feeling of wrongness.
Why wouldn’t Anne want to have her friends over to visit?
The flashing anger in Solomon’s eyes resurfaced in her memory, and she winced. Perhaps it wasn’t such a mystery, after all.
Speaking of which . . .
“I should warn you that Mr. Sallow can be rather . . . touchy,” Vera said hesitantly as they rounded the bend and the well came into view. “And that he and Sebastian aren’t on very good terms right now— from what I know, which isn’t much,” she qualified hastily, heading off the other girls’ raised eyebrows. She sighed. “I just wouldn’t bring Sebastian up at all, if you can help it.”
“Has it really gotten that bad, then?” Grace shook her head. “Anne always hinted that Sebastian didn’t get along with their uncle, but I never thought much of it.”
Vera nodded grimly. “When we visited last, Mr. Sallow kicked Sebastian out of the house. They had a terrible row.”
Behind her, Imelda snorted. “Well, that explains it. I did wonder why he wasn’t trotting after us like a lovesick puppy.”
All three of them laughed. Vera’s face burned.
“Oh look, we’re almost there,” she said, pointing towards the Sallows’ cottage and desperate to change the subject— not only because of Imelda’s mortifying implication, but because none of these girls knew the true purpose of their visit this afternoon. She didn’t want to risk any loose tongues that would cause Solomon to ruin the plans she had in store.
The memory of her last encounter with Solomon Sallow sat like a rock in her stomach as they approached the cottage. Sucking in a breath, she released Nerida’s arm and turned back to look expectantly at her friends.
“Ready?” she asked with forced cheerfulness. By way of answer, Imelda pushed past her and marched up to rap insistently on the door.
“Anne Sallow! We’ve come to rescue you from your dull, provincial existence! So hurry it up, will you?”
Grace and Nerida snickered. Despite her anxiety, Vera had to cover her mouth.
Moments later, the door swung open, and Vera braced herself— only to be met with a familiar pair of warm brown eyes.
“I can’t believe you’re all really here!”
Anne laughed as Grace and Nerida nearly knocked her over, rushing over the threshold and immediately embracing her.
Imelda rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips was the most genuine of any Vera had seen her give. “We decided we couldn’t leave you out of all the fun this year.”
“Fun? With Quidditch cancelled and O.W.L.’s coming up? I’d say I picked the right year to stay home,” Anne retorted good-naturedly, ushering them into the house.
Imelda snorted. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
And yet, even Vera, who had only met Anne a few weeks prior, could see that wasn’t true. Her heart clenched as she took in Anne’s appearance. If she had been pale before, she was now practically ghostly, her complexion truly living up to her last name. Her hair, which had been pulled into a neat knot at Vera’s last visit, now fell limp around her shoulders, framing cheekbones that had become far too pronounced. She had noticeably lost weight, her clothes now seeming to hang off her waiflike frame. Despite the unseasonably warm day and the fire crackling in the hearth, she wore several layers, and the scarf Ominis had given her was wrapped securely around her neck.
But even through her obvious exhaustion, her dark eyes still sparkled as she welcomed her longtime friends, in that endearingly familiar way that was so like her brother.
“Neither have you,” Anne rolled her eyes at Imelda. “Please, make yourselves at home. My uncle’s working in the garden, he should be in soon.”
He can take all the time he likes, Vera thought, eyes flicking nervously towards the back door. The girls followed Anne to take their seats in the living room.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you. Can I offer you tea? I was just about to make some,” Anne said, leaning heavily against an armchair.
“You’ll do no such thing. I’ll get it.” Vera crossed the short distance to the kitchen before Anne had a chance to argue, busying herself with the kettle on the stove.
“You’re too kind, Vera,” Anne called out, settling herself on the sofa. “The pot and cups are in the cabinet, and I’ve left the tea next to the stove.”
Vera’s gaze lingered on the tin next to the stove, smiling when she realized it was the same tea she had brought for Anne at that first visit. Her heart twinged at the reminder of all that had happened since.
“When did you get home from St. Mungo’s?” Nerida’s voice brought her sharply back to reality.
“Just a couple of days ago,” Anne replied. “The Healers wanted to keep me under observation for a while longer, but I insisted on coming home. That place is so dreary.”
“I can imagine,” Grace sniffed. “My parents attend their annual fundraiser. With the amount of money that’s donated, you’d think they could update their decor to something a little more modern. Or at least a little less reminiscent of some kind of asylum.”
“I did feel like I was going a bit mad,” Anne shook her head. “Uncle Solomon was worried about bringing me home, but I do feel much more at ease here.”
“That’s wonderful to hear,” Nerida said, beaming. “I’ll be so glad when you’ve finally recovered and are back at Hogwarts.”
Anne hesitated; it lasted a beat too long. “Me, too.”
Vera’s heart sank. She doesn’t expect to come back.
She set the tea to steep in the pot and brought the tray back over to the sitting room, putting on a forced smile. “I’m looking forward to our outing,” she said briskly, cutting the uncomfortable silence, and she was rewarded with Anne’s eyes brightening. “You said you had a place in mind?”
The creak of the back door and heavy stomping of boots interrupted Anne before she could reply.
“Those blasted chickens have gotten into the pumpkins again—” Solomon grumbled loudly, stopping short when he realized the number of adolescent girls in his home had suddenly multiplied. “Well, I see our visitors have arrived. Good morning, ladies.”
Everyone stood but Anne, the rest of the girls bowing shortly in tandem. Grace stepped forward with a saccharine smile. “It’s such a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Sallow,” she said, and Vera cringed inwardly at her fawning tone. “I’m Grace Pinch-Smedley, of the Bath Pinch-Smedleys. But of course you know that, I believe you and my father were in the same year at Hogwarts . . .”
Vera stopped listening as one by one, the girls introduced themselves to Solomon. She focused on keeping her heartbeat even and her breaths steady, content to wait behind her friends and avoid Solomon’s direct attention for as long as possible. It’s all right, she reminded herself. Just a little while longer and we’ll be gone.
Finally, his gaze landed on her. She held her breath. “Ah, Sebastian’s friend,” he remembered, his eyebrows drawing together. “You’ll have to remind me of your name.”
“Vera, sir,” she replied, hating way her voice hitched. She cleared her throat, her next words coming out stronger. “Vera Webb. It’s nice to see you again.” She curtsied out of habit, hoping the polite gesture would make up for lying through her teeth.
“You haven’t brought him with you, have you?” He crossed his arms, glancing around and seeming satisfied when no tousle-haired nephew made an appearance. “We’ve no need for any more trouble today. Anne’s been recovering well now that she’s finally gotten some peace and quiet.”
Internally, Vera felt her anger flare. In reply, she merely inclined her head. “It’s just us girls today, Mr. Sallow,” she said mildly. “We thought we’d come and help Anne follow her doctor’s . . . er, Healer’s orders.”
“Remember, Uncle? I mentioned that we’d be going out,” Anne added hesitantly. “Is that still all right?”
Solomon looked over the girls with a critical eye, then gave a gruff sigh. “Yes, so long as you don’t strain yourself. And you must do as I’ve asked and steer far clear of that castle.”
Anne nodded quickly. “Of course.”
An awkward silence descended on the group. Vera busied herself with pouring the tea and quieting the crackle of electricity in her chest. Thankfully, Solomon seemed uncomfortable with the idea of making small talk with his niece’s friends and took his leave shortly afterwards, muttering to himself about chickens in the vegetable patch.
“Anne, are you sure you’re up to walking?” Nerida asked, eyeing her friend’s frail form with some concern.
“I really do feel much better,” Anne reassured her. “And I’m simply dying to get out of doors.”
“I still don’t understand how a day by the sea is supposed to have anything to do with improving your health,” Imelda said doubtfully. “Are you sure these Healers know what they’re on about?”
“They promised that they’d seen it have a positive effect in other cases,” Anne shrugged. “I’m willing to try anything that might help. At the very least, it’s a good excuse to have some fun, for once.”
“Muggle doctors say the same,” Vera offered. “You never know.” She offered her arm to help Anne up from the sofa. “Are you ready?”
Anne nodded. “Let me get my coat.”
As they waited for Anne to return from the bedroom, Vera noticed Grace looking at her with a strange expression. She raised an eyebrow.
“Grace? What’s the matter?”
The other girl blushed slightly and looked away. “Nothing. It’s just . . . easy, sometimes, to forget that you come from Muggles, is all.”
Vera glanced at her other companions. Imelda was frowning at Grace, an inexplicable edge in her gaze, and Nerida had suddenly discovered something fascinating about her nails.
There’s something they’re not telling me. The realization settled uncomfortably into a pit in her stomach. She thought of Rosier and his revolting insults; Salazar Slytherin’s note she had discovered in the scriptorium; the strange looks she often received in the common room; and the sensation grew more acute.
Corridors full of inept children masquerading as witches and wizards. . .
“It’s not normal for a Muggle-born to be sorted into Slytherin, isn’t it,” she said flatly. It wasn’t a question, not really. She had been edging around this truth for weeks. And she was no longer satisfied with the answer Sebastian had given.
He had told her that it was unusual, but not unheard of. And yet Vera had yet to meet a single other member of Slytherin House who came from a non-magical household.
Grace wouldn’t meet her eye. Nerida’s eyes had grown large; she almost looked afraid. But there was fire in Imelda’s gaze, and Vera knew instinctively that she would be the one to tell her the truth. Imelda always told her the truth.
“Yes, it is,” she replied flatly.
“There are no other Muggle-borns in Slytherin House,” Vera said softly. Even though it wasn’t really a question, Imelda still shook her head.
“No, there aren’t.”
Vera exhaled. Finally, we’re getting somewhere. “How long has it been since someone from a non-magical family was sorted into Slytherin?”
Imelda exchanged a glance with Grace before shaking her head. “Honestly? I’ve never heard of it happening.”
Vera’s heart dropped. Not unheard of, my arse.
Looking at her friends, Vera suddenly felt silly and small. It was clear they had been aware of the unique nature of her circumstances since the very beginning. That feeling that she’d had after her encounter with Rosier, that she had unknowingly offended some sacred, inviolable custom, returned in full force. Shame heated her face.
“I didn’t realize,” she said, looking down. “I asked Sebastian about it, once. He told me it wasn’t so strange. I suppose he was being less than honest.”
“Vera . . .” Nerida trailed off, at a loss. Imelda frowned, but was interrupted before she could speak.
“I’m ready!” Anne announced, reappearing from the bedroom with her hair tied neatly back and her overcoat disguising some of the gauntness of her frame. Her good cheer faded as she noticed the tension in the air. “Is everything all right?”
Vera summarized the high points for Anne as they proceeded slowly down the path towards the coast. She and Imelda walked on either side of Anne, arm in arm, holding her steady.
“I’d no idea you were Muggle-born,” Anne shook her head after Vera finished. “Sebastian never mentioned it.”
“Yes, well, it seems there are several things he never mentioned.” The words tasted bitter. “I feel so foolish.”
“Vera, you shouldn’t,” Anne insisted, tightening her grip on Vera’s arm. “First of all, you had no way of knowing and it wouldn’t have changed anything, so there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. And if I know my brother, he will have wanted to spare you all the pain that he could.” Anne gave a slight smile. “He does that for the people he cares about.”
Vera sighed, studiously ignoring the I-told-you-so in Imelda’s expression. “I’d really have preferred to know what I was getting myself into.” She glanced back at Grace. “People have been talking about me, haven’t they?”
It was a sixth sense she had developed over years of experience navigating around the Ton: how to know when she was drawing unwanted attention. Her dearest wish had always been to fade into the background, going unnoticed as often as possible for her own self-preservation. But ever since arriving at Hogwarts, she couldn’t escape it: the whispers when her back was turned, the sidelong glances from people who never quite met her eye when she looked their way. Vera had assumed those reactions were due to her beginning as a fifth-year, and then later, because of the troll attack in Hogsmeade. But now . . .
Grace bit her lip. “Everyone’s . . . simply curious,” she admitted diplomatically.
Vera’s stomach twisted.
Imelda sighed impatiently. “Tiptoeing around this isn’t going to do anyone any good. She wants the truth— don’t you, Vera?”
Mutely, she nodded. Even though she felt mildly nauseous, she knew well the importance of managing her reputation. She needed to know.
Grace sniffed. “Well, as you know, I hate gossip.” At that, Anne and Nerida burst into a coughing fit that sounded suspiciously like giggles; Grace glared at them before continuing. “But it seems that people do like to come to me for advice, as a sounding board, you know, and to make sure all is well— I think it’s to do with my family’s reputation, we’re seen as quite trustworthy—”
“For the love of Merlin’s disgusting drawers, Grace, get to the point,” Imelda snapped, eliciting another round of cough-giggles.
“All right, all right, no need to get snippy!” Grace shook her head. “It is true that many people are simply curious. But others are . . . more scandalized.”
“Like Rosier,” Vera supplied. Grace looked down.
“Yes.” She sucked in a breath. “And I know that some of them have contacted their parents, because Mother’s mentioned it in her letters. Asking if I know who the new student is.”
Vera’s heartbeat picked up speed.
“You never mentioned that,” Imelda said, frowning.
“I didn’t think much of it, until Violet McDowell told me a few days ago that her mum had asked her as well,” Grace shrugged. She hesitated. “She said . . . that her parents were convinced that you’re the first Muggle-born sorted into Slytherin in living memory.”
“I can’t believe all of this has been going on, and I had no idea,” Vera said faintly. “I don’t know what to say.”
“It doesn’t matter to any of us, Vera,” Nerida was quick to reassure her.
“Not everyone puts so much stock in blood status,” Anne added, squeezing her arm. “It’s really mostly the aristocratic families . . .” She trailed off, with an uncomfortable glance at Grace.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Grace crossed her arms indignantly. “My family has always been quite accepting. My nanny was a Muggle-born, you know!”
Imelda rolled her eyes. “I think everyone would like to believe that blood purity is falling out of fashion,” she said, looking grim. “But for your own safety, you should know that there are still plenty of families who are faithful to that tradition. They see it as a part of upholding Slytherin’s legacy.”
Vera nodded, shivering. “Ominis has told me about his family’s views.”
“They’re some of the worst, but it’s not just the Gaunts.” Imelda shook her head. “Headmaster Black’s family is infamous for their views on blood purity, as well. And many more in our House besides just Rosier. Now that you know, it’d be wise to watch your step.”
“Thinking back . . . I think some of them might be watching you,” Grace realized aloud. A chill ran down Vera’s spine. “Violet’s been awfully curious. There’s been a few times where I’ve found her in our dormitory and she seemed . . . off. And the other day, I saw her in the hall with a few of the fifth-year boys, and they all stopped talking when I passed them.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Nerida said, sounding uncharacteristically sour. They all turned to look at her in surprise, and she blushed. “I’m partnered with her in Beasts class,” she explained. “She’s said some truly awful things about magical creatures. And I’ve seen her in Hogsmeade with Rosier and Nott, and Avery, and some others . . .”
Vera’s thoughts churned. She remembered the things Rosier had accused her of, that day by the Kneazle pen. How he had made her wonder whether Sebastian had betrayed her, how those doubts had lingered and stung. And all this time, he’d had nothing to do with those nasty rumors. Her shame curdled into anger.
“I see,” she said coolly. “Thank you for telling me, Grace.”
“I would have mentioned it sooner, I just . . . didn’t know how, I suppose,” she replied with regret. “I’m sorry.”
“We all are,” Nerida said sincerely. “You don’t deserve this, Vera.”
“I’m sure it will all blow over,” Anne said optimistically. “People are just ruffled because it’s all so new. They’ll come to see how lovely you are soon enough.”
Imelda simply pressed her mouth into a line, looking unconvinced. In her heart, Vera felt the same. But for the moment, she was relieved to let the conversation drift to other topics. She had the answers she needed— no matter how they filled her with dread.
She wanted to be angry with Sebastian for how he had lied to her. In fact, both he and Ominis had had multiple opportunities to warn her and had left her completely in the dark, instead. But Anne’s words gave her pause.
“He does that for the people he cares about.”
Anne had been so confident, not a doubt in her mind that her brother would have taken any opportunity to keep Vera from harm. Her thoughts were pulled back to that night in the flickering candlelight.
“I should have made you cast it on me. I should have insisted that I teach you the curse instead.” He looked up at her, and the pure anguish in his eyes made her ache. “I”ll never forgive myself.”
Any hint of betrayal faded away. She felt it in her bones; this was not someone who wanted to embarrass or hurt her. She still wished he wouldn’t have lied. But surely, by now, he’d earned the benefit of the doubt.
And as for Ominis . . . she supposed she could understand why he would want to keep as far away from the subject of blood purity as he could.
Lost in thought, Vera was the last to notice when they reached the ocean. But Anne’s exclamation shook her from her reverie.
“This is it!”
They stood on an outcropping of rock, looking out over a small cove which sheltered the coast from the open ocean. The path before them wound down the cliffside, marking out the way down to the beach. Vera and Imelda kept a firm hold on Anne as they made their way slowly down.
“Sebastian and I used to come here all the time as children,” Anne beamed, though her breath was coming short from the exertion. “Our parents loved this place.” Her smile faded slightly. “I haven’t been back in so long.”
“It’s lovely,” Nerida proclaimed, the rest of the girls nodding in agreement as they reached the sand. The warmth of the midday sun protected against the chill of the light autumn breeze, and the salt air ruffled through Vera’s pinned-up hair. She pressed a hand briefly to her hat, making sure the pins stayed in place.
The girls set up the picnic basket they had brought with them, and Anne sank gratefully down onto one of the blankets, closing her eyes as she turned her face towards the sun. “I feel better already,” she sighed happily. “Perhaps the Muggles know what they’re on about, after all.”
Vera cracked a smile. Anne looked like a lizard sunning itself on a rock. “It is one of the more pleasant things I’ve seen a doctor prescribe.”
She couldn’t stop the small gasp of surprise that left her lips as she turned back around— to see the other girls beginning to shed their shoes, stockings, and outer layers, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
“What’s the matter, Vera?” Nerida asked, seeing that her eyes had gone wide.
“Nothing,” she replied quickly, turning back to look out at the sea. Now that she thought about it, she remembered seeing some working class holiday-goers do the same when her family had visited the beach. Of all the new and jarring parts of wizarding society she’d been exposed to, this was surely one of the more understandable customs.
All the same, she’d rather remain fully clothed, herself.
They sat down to eat the lunch they’d brought with them, and Vera could practically see the life returning to Anne with each passing minute. She was content to sit back and listen as the other girls caught Anne up on everything she’d been missing. Every so often, she cast her gaze to the cliffside.
“Are you looking for something, Vera?” Grace asked her once. She simply shook her head, hiding a smile.
“Just thought I saw something.” Surreptitiously, she checked her watch. It wasn’t time yet, but she wouldn’t put it past them to arrive early.
At last, Imelda stood, a mischievous gleam in her eye that put Vera on edge.
“So, are we swimming, or not?”
Vera blinked in surprise. “What, here? Now? We’ll freeze, surely.” Even in the middle of summer, this part of the coast would have been a shock to the system. They would catch their death trying to swim in the autumn.
Grinning, Imelda pulled out her wand. “The beauty of magic, my dear. Haven’t you learned how to cast a warming charm yet?”
Vera looked at her dubiously, but apparently this was something the others were well used to.
“I’m game,” Grace agreed, rising to her feet and shaking the sand from her skirt.
“I wish I could,” Anne sighed. “It’s such fun, but I don’t know that I could manage it.”
“Nonsense. None of us will let you drown, and Vera will help you. Won’t you, Vera?”
All three of them turned their eyes on her, and she flushed. “I’m not going in there! We didn’t even bring bathing costumes!”
Anne laughed, and Imelda rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re a prude.”
And then before Vera’s disbelieving eyes, she began unfastening her skirt.
“It’s all right, Vera,” Anne reassured her, noticing her obvious discomfort as she and Grace began following suit. “No one ever comes this way, that’s part of the reason we loved this place as kids. We won’t be seen.”
Vera floundered. “But— what about goblins? Or dugbogs? Or bandits—”
Imelda groaned. “Would you lighten up and have some fun for once? We’ve been here for an hour and seen nothing yet. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
Vera bit her lip and checked her watch once more. She couldn’t disclose her most pressing hesitation without ruining the surprise. But there should still be time.
“All right, fine,” she gave in. “Just for a little while. And only if you can promise that I won’t freeze!”
She still couldn’t believe her eyes as her friends undressed, right out in the open air and sunshine, paying no mind to the lack of proper attire or privacy. Imelda was the first to finish, matter-of-factly shedding her hat, skirt, bodice, and underpinnings until she was left in merely her chemise and drawers. Anne and Grace were quick to follow suit, Grace helping Anne when she struggled.
“Aren’t you coming, Vera?” Grace asked as she cast her warming charm.
Casting one last anxious glance up towards the cliffside, Vera finally shook her head and began to undress. Surely, this won’t take too long.
The sand felt strange on her bare feet, soft yet full of small rocks and shells. Despite the warming charm, she shivered slightly in her sleeveless chemise, crossing her arms uncomfortably across her chest. “Let’s go, before I realize how mad this is and change my mind,” she told Anne, extending her arm to help her towards the water after Grace and Imelda.
Wait . . . only Grace and Imelda?
She glanced back towards the shore and was dismayed to see Nerida, sitting fully clothed on one of the blankets and watching them wistfully. “Nerida? Aren’t you coming?”
“I’ve never learned to swim,” she answered mournfully. “It looks like such fun. Please, go on without me!”
Had Vera known she wouldn’t be the only one left sitting on the beach, she might not have let Imelda talk her into entering the water. Sighing, she supposed she couldn’t get out of it now.
The girls shrieked as they entered the surf; even with the benefit of the charms, the frigid ocean still nipped at their skin. “Oh, this is mad,” Vera gasped, holding tight to Anne’s arms as they waded in. She stepped gingerly over the pebbly sand until it smoothed out further into the water.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Imelda called back, throwing her head back and leaning into the breeze with a wild grin. Vera imagined this was how she must look on her broomstick— free and fierce, right at home as she pushed herself to her limits.
Soon they had waded in up to their chests, and the water began to bob them along. The waves had been softened from the fury of the open ocean but remained strong enough to pull them to and fro. The strong breeze and the water made short work of their hair pins, leaving loose strands to float around them.
Grace and Imelda soon began racing between two sets of rocks, kicking off in a flurry of limbs and sea spray. Meanwhile, Anne leaned back into the water, letting herself float on her back as Vera supported her and held her steady.
“I thought I might never get to do this again,” she admitted, closing her eyes in contentment. And suddenly, the notion of entering the freezing Highland ocean in October while practically naked was no longer foolish at all.
“Your brother’s been worried sick about you,” Vera said, her chest tight as she looked Anne over. Her chemise clung to her emaciated frame, revealing her painfully thin arms and protruding collarbone. “Ominis and I have been, too. I can’t tell you how relieved we were to hear you’d been discharged.”
The image of red lightning arcing through the dark, dank room beneath the castle flashed before her eyes. She pushed the memories away, desperately clinging to the present moment— only to be met with Anne’s dark eyes, thinly-veiled misery swirling in their depths.
“I’m glad to have been able to come home,” Anne said quietly, barely audible over the sound of the waves. She looked out across the water, towards where Grace and Imelda were racing furiously towards a cluster of rocks.
Vera felt sick to her stomach. “Anne . . . how did the Healers manage to help you? What have they told you?”
She was afraid to know the answer. But she had to ask.
Anne was silent for a long moment. “I expect that you know our parents died at home?” she said finally, and Vera nodded, surprised by the non sequitur. Anne met her gaze once more. “Did you know Sebastian was the one who found them?”
“No,” Vera said, eyebrows raising. “How horrible.”
Anne smiled sadly, pulling slightly away from Vera as she floated upright once more. “They were always down in their study in the cellar, poring over ancient texts and testing experimental spellwork. Especially those last few years, they seemed obsessed with whatever theory they were working on, spending all their spare time down there. They never wanted us to join in, but Sebastian was determined to try.” She sighed. “He was coming to argue with Father that he was old enough to help. Instead, he found them on the floor.”
“I didn’t know.” Her heart ached.
“He blamed himself for so long . . .” Anne shook her head. “He was convinced that if only he’d been allowed to help, if only he’d pushed harder, he would have been there to notice the lamp malfunctioning, would have been able to prevent it somehow. It took so long for Ominis and I to convince him that it wasn’t his fault.”
Anne’s eyes sharpened. “He cannot believe that this is his fault, too. You must help me, Vera.”
“Are you saying . . .” Vera felt sick to her stomach. “Anne, what did the Healers tell you?”
“Nothing I didn’t already know,” she replied, looking solemn. “That I’m dying. That the curse has caused some damage inside, damage that’s not going away and that resists all attempts at a cure.”
No, no, no . . .
“Is there truly no hope, then?” Vera asked, blinking back the burning sensation behind her eyes.
“They did say they’d managed to give me some more time,” Anne said, looking back out towards their friends with a small smile. “Whatever they did, it slowed the damage. And they’ve given me a potion to help me keep food down, which has been good, too. But none of it will stop the inevitable for long.”
She fixed Vera with a determined stare, and anything Vera had thought about saying faded away before it reached her lips. “You know my brother by now. You know how stubborn he is, how single-minded he can become. I couldn’t bear knowing that I was the cause of him doing something reckless and self-destructive.”
Vera frowned. “Anne . . . you’re not thinking of keeping this from him?”
She looked away. “How can I tell him, when I know what it will do to him? When I know I’m leaving him alone with only Uncle Solomon . . . when I know how desperate he’ll become, how much he’ll blame himself?”
Vera shook her head. “He deserves to know. It will devastate him to know that you’ve kept this from him.”
Anne looked up, tears shimmering in her eyes, mixing with the saltwater on her face. “It will devastate him either way,” she said hopelessly. “And he has a history of making choices that are . . . less than wise, when he’s under pressure.” She gave a short, humorless laugh, sinking lower in the water. “It almost got him expelled, last time. How can I see that happen to him again?”
Expelled . . .
“Are you talking about what happened in the Restricted Section last year?”
Anne nodded morosely. “I’m surprised you know about it. He doesn’t like to talk about it.”
“It . . . briefly came up in conversation,” Vera explained, quickly shoving aside all recollections of dark antechambers and forbidden spells.
Anne gave her a sidelong glance. “You really have gotten to know my brother, haven’t you?”
Vera flushed. “A little.”
A thoughtful smile tugged at Anne’s lips, before a dark shadow fell across her face once more. “You’ve seen him fighting with Uncle Solomon. They’ve never gotten along, not really. But last year, it started getting much worse. Sebastian wanted to go through our parents' things— all the journals and papers they left behind, photos, that kind of thing. We’d both wondered about those things for years, but whenever we asked, Uncle Solomon would just say that we weren’t old enough yet. Finally, Sebastian got tired of asking.”
Anne worried her lower lip, lost in the memory. “He combed through the school library, including the Restricted Section, convinced that as professors, they would have left some records behind. I helped him, at first.” Her eyes darkened. “Until he found that book.”
“The one including the Unforgivable Curses?” Vera said softly. Anne nodded.
“I begged him to leave it alone. Ominis and I both did. But he was simply too curious. And then he was caught, and it nearly cost him everything.” She shuddered. “Uncle Solomon was so furious when he heard what had happened from Professor Weasley. The school punishments were a walk in the park compared to what Sebastian got at home.”
They both fell silent then, listening to their friends splashing and laughing in the distance and the gentle roar of the waves against the shore.
“I’m so afraid,” Anne finally confessed, barely audible. She slipped backwards again, letting the water buoy her slight form atop the surface, staring up at the sky. “I’d never seen Sebastian in such a state before. And I never did again– until I was cursed. Vera, it’s like he’s tormented.” A tear slipped down the side of her face, mixing quickly with the sea. “My curse . . . it’s changed him entirely. I miss my brother. I fear I’m never going to get him back.”
Vera’s heart twisted. “This isn’t your fault,” she promised, her voice slightly hoarse. “Nothing about this is your fault, Anne. And despite how he might react, you know he deserves to know. And he deserves to hear it from you.”
Anne squeezed her eyes shut. “You might be right. But for now, I can’t bear the thought of telling him. I want to enjoy the time I have left, to have a chance at spending it with the brother I know and love. Once he knows, any hope of that will be lost.”
“Anne . . .” Vera’s heart was breaking.
“Promise me you won’t breathe a word,” Anne pleaded, her dark eyes beseeching. “Please. I’ve told you these things because I know I can trust you.”
“How?” Vera was taken aback. “We hardly know each other.”
Anne gave a wry smile. “It’s obvious you’ve been taking care of Sebastian. He writes about you a lot, you know.”
Vera was sure her face had gone entirely red. All she could manage was a brief, “Oh?”
“You’ve been there for him. He trusts you, thinks very highly of you. And I expect you’ll be there for him after . . . after I’m gone, as well.” Anne’s gaze was steady, though her voice was not. “Please, promise me you’ll keep my confidence. I’ll tell him, eventually. In my own time. But just . . . not yet.”
Vera hated the idea of keeping this from Sebastian. But how could she deny this kind of a request from a girl who was dying?
“All right,” she finally conceded. “So long as you promise you will tell him, eventually.”
Anne nodded. “I promise.” She paused. “Do you hear something?”
Vera glanced around. “What do you—” And then, two figures jumping up and down and waving their arms on the beach caught her attention. “It looks like Grace and Imelda are back already,” she realized. They must have raced straight back to shore.
A sudden, violent shiver wracked Anne’s body. “I th-think the warming charms m-might be wearing off,” she said, clinging to Vera’s arms. “P-perhaps we should head back?”
If Anne’s was wearing off, hers wouldn’t be far behind. Silently, she cursed herself for lingering too long with Anne in such a state. Their conversation had thoroughly distracted her. “Let’s go,” Vera agreed, helping Anne along into shallower waters. She waved back to the girls on the shore. “We’re coming,” she called out, hoping she would be heard above the noise of the surf.
As occupied as she was with all that had been said and with the task of helping a shivering, weak girl out of the ocean, she failed to notice two additional figures descending the cliffside path.
“Nearly there,” she reassured Anne as they stepped out of the water, both of them shivering in the breeze despite the bright sunshine. She had begun to feel the charm fading, as well, and was eager to return to her wand and her clothes.
“Seems like you enjoyed yourself after all, Vera,” Imelda said, grinning, as she and Anne approached. “We thought you’d turn to ice out there.”
Vera forced a smile. “Anne nearly did. We lost track of the time, I’m afraid.”
Everyone’s attention turned to Anne, then, who was grinning with lips that were nearly blue. The other girls began fussing over her, quickly re-casting the warming charm and drying her off and helping her dress herself.
Vera, on the other hand, was still dripping wet, shivering, and searching for her wand in the pile of her clothes when she heard a voice that made her heart stop.
“Hello, ladies. We just so happened to be in the neighborhood— mind if we drop by?”
Oh, shit.
Vera let out a squeak and whirled around to a sight that she had entirely expected, and yet for which she now found herself entirely unprepared: Sebastian and Ominis, coming to surprise Anne. Just as the three of them had planned.
For what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was likely only a few seconds, she couldn’t move. Because surely, this must be a nightmare. She was acutely aware of what she looked like— hair sopping wet and half-falling out of its pins, barefoot, arms and shoulders entirely exposed, and her soaked chemise clinging to her body in a way that far surpassed indecency. Her eyes went wide, like a deer who had spotted a hunter through the trees and hadn’t yet decided which way to flee.
It took Sebastian a beat longer to notice her. But when he did, his usual confident smile froze, and his eyes went just as wide as hers. She didn’t miss the way they flicked up and down.
Vera felt a flush spreading all the way down her body. And then his grin turned into a smirk, and she felt like she had been set on fire.
“My apologies,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Are we interrupting?”
Not once did he look away. For those few seconds, it was as though they were the only two people on the beach.
Finally, she came to her senses and whirled around, trying to cover herself and reaching for her wand. Grace was the first to race to her rescue, hurrying over to stand between Vera and the newcomers. “Do you mind?” she snapped, a hand on her hip.
Sebastian seemed momentarily startled, as though he had forgotten about the other girls entirely. His face reddened slightly and he immediately turned his back.
It was no use. The feeling of his eyes on her was still branded into Vera’s skin. The chill in the air was all but forgotten as she rushed to dress. Grace’s helpful drying charm began steaming the water right off of her body; for an absurd moment, Vera thought the heat spreading over her skin came from a different source, entirely. She was consumed by a single thought.
Did he . . . did he like what he saw?
“Ominis, you too!” Anne cried out through still-chattering teeth. Imelda and Nerida had huddled around her, still trying to help her into her clothes.
“What are you all on about?” he said, sounding annoyed.
“We went swimming! Vera’s indecent, and so am I,” she replied, dark eyes dancing. “You’ve got to turn around.”
“Are you serious?” His tone was cross, but there was a hint of amusement hiding underneath.
“It’s the principle of the thing,” she insisted. Sighing heavily, he acquiesced.
“I can’t believe you’re here! How on earth did you know where we were?” Anne asked, running her fingers through her newly-dried hair and twisting it back into its customary knot.
“Brotherly intuition?” Sebastian offered, his back still turned. Anne rolled her eyes.
“We thought a visit away from the house might be in order,” Vera managed, still feeling as though her heart might beat right out of her chest. Securing her corset, blouse, and skirt back in place, she began to calm slightly. “I do believe these two are a bit earlier than we discussed. Erm . . . surprise?”
Any hint of awkwardness still hanging in the air was immediately diffused by the girls’ laughter.
“Well, you didn’t say anything about swimming in October,” Sebastian protested, failing to keep the grin out of his voice. “Not that I can say it was an unpleasant surprise.”
Anne shoved him, and the ensuing peals of indignant laughter covered Vera’s mortification.
Once they were dressed and announced that the boys could turn around, she studiously avoided eye contact, choosing instead to listen as the twins caught up and Grace and Imelda argued over who had won their race. When she dared to steal a glance at Sebastian, the plain relief on his face made the weight of her newfound knowledge even heavier. She had no idea how she was going to bear keeping something like Anne’s prognosis from him.
As though sensing her thoughts, Anne met her gaze for a brief moment, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. She didn’t have to say a word for Vera to receive her message.
You promised.
Indeed, she had. So she buried her misgivings, remembering the way Anne had felt like skin and bones in her arms as she had shared her desperate worries for her brother. Instead, Vera tried to take solace in the scene before her: the peaceful shoreline, her newfound friends all enjoying the sun, Sebastian and Anne reunited without Solomon’s threat hanging over their heads. And despite everything, she actually began to relax and enjoy herself.
If only she could ignore those dark, smirking eyes that had set her skin on fire periodically darting in her direction, reminding her of all she was trying to forget.
Despite the previous afternoon’s embarrassment, Vera knew that she couldn’t afford to avoid Sebastian for much longer. She had to take advantage of this opportunity to convince him that the triptych could lead them to answers, and they were due that afternoon at Helen Thistlewood’s home to prepare for the hearing.
So after spending the entirety of the previous evening hiding out in the girls’ dormitory, when Sunday morning dawned, she was resolved to seek him out and suggest they finally spend some time re-examining the panel in the Undercroft.
Except he wasn’t at breakfast. Or in the common room. Or the library. The Undercroft was empty, too. And when she worked up the nerve to ask one of the Slytherin boys, she confirmed he wasn’t in the dormitory.
A pit was forming in her stomach. I have a bad feeling about this. Each time she had sought him out over the past week to begin their investigation of the triptych anew, he had mysteriously gone missing.
The only other person she knew of that might know where Sebastian could be found was Ominis, who was also mysteriously absent. She was loath to ask him, having hoped to keep her plans private. But she was quickly running out of other options. So with a sigh, she headed towards the only remaining place in the castle she imagined she would find him.
As she drew near to the doors of the music room, her steps slowed, and she smiled, instantly recognizing the piece that she could hear coming from the piano within. She quietly opened the door and stood silently near the entrance for longer than she’d intended, not wanting to interrupt. Finally, the notes came to a close, and she applauded.
“That one is really coming along.”
Ominis startled slightly, and Vera took a moment to pride herself on sneaking up on him. He was so perceptive that she rarely managed it.
“Thanks. It’s given me more trouble than I expected at first,” he admitted, turning towards her.
“There’s just so much going on. Anyone would struggle,” she shrugged. “To be honest, Liszt has always been a bit flashy for my taste.”
“You’re only saying that because your hands are comically small,” he replied, amused. “You couldn’t reach all the notes.”
Vera sniffed, crossing her arms. “I could so, if I wanted to be a show-off.”
Ominis gave a real laugh then. Against her will, she grinned.
She paused, teetering on the edge of whether to ask him where to find Sebastian— and then shied away, that foreboding feeling rising in her chest again. Not because she was worried that Ominis would know where to find him, but because she was terrified that he wouldn’t.
“Play it for me again?” she asked instead, taking a seat next to the bench. “I came in halfway through.”
He acquiesced, and she watched him with fascination as he began anew. He played slightly slower than she had heard from other performers, likely still working to get it up to speed; but the more measured tempo gave the melody an almost dreamlike quality that drew her in, spellbound.
Perhaps the most incredible thing to see when Ominis performed was how, for obvious reasons, he never looked down. Even after all their time practicing together, she thought she would never get used to it. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, listening intently, and his hands flowed like water over the keys.
“How do you do that?” she asked after he had finished, shaking her head. “It’s like magic.”
His hands still hovered above the keys, long fingers— much longer than hers, Vera had to admit— suspended in place.
“What do you mean?” The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“You never hesitate,” she replied. “You’re always sure where the next note will be, even though you can’t see it.” She leaned forward, fascinated. “You don’t feel your way around, you don’t search for the key in the moment. You are absolutely, undoubtedly confident that the note you’re looking for will be precisely where you think it is. How?”
He tilted his head, considering. Then, he shrugged. “I suppose not being able to see teaches you how to take little leaps of faith.”
Vera shook her head again. “Incredible. It’s so hard for me to play without looking.”
“Sometimes, I find, people let their eyes play tricks on them.” Ominis grew serious. “They see what they expect, or what they’d like to see, or what they wish was there. Not what actually is. I don’t have that problem. My eyes can’t trick me; I can trust in what I know.”
Again, he had that uncanny ability to seem to meet her eyeline. She looked away, suddenly uncomfortable, and remained silent.
“You didn’t come here to listen to me play, or ramble on,” he prodded. Too perceptive again. “What do you need, Vera?”
She stalled, doing her best to sound arch and not defensive. “I’m not allowed to just come and listen to my friend, who plays Liszt so impressively with his abnormally large hands?”
“Always.” He leaned forward, swinging one leg across to straddle the bench and face her. “But that’s not why you’re here.”
She worried her bottom lip. The pit in her stomach grew heavier. And suddenly, she was sure that the very last thing she wanted was for Ominis to confirm that he had no idea where Sebastian had gone.
Besides, something else was still bothering her.
“I know,” she said instead, dropping any playful pretense. “I know what people have been saying about me.”
“You’ll have to be more specific, I’m afraid.” He smirked slightly. “People have been saying all sorts of things about you.”
That stung, likely more than he intended. She didn’t smile back. “I know that I’m the first Muggle-born in Slytherin, perhaps ever. And I know that most of our house-mates hate me for it. Grace told me, and Imelda, when we visited Anne yesterday.”
Ominis grew deadly still. He said nothing.
“Why didn’t you say something?” she asked, hating the vulnerability in her voice. “They said the word has even spread among the parents, that . . . that parents have been writing to their children, asking about me.” Her heart sank as she realized, watching his shoulders sag. “Your parents have done the same, haven’t they.”
“I’m sorry, Vera,” he said. His sincerity couldn’t completely dull the pain of the admission. “I thought— we thought it would be better if you didn’t know.”
“You and Sebastian.”
“Yes.” He looked ashamed. “We thought it would help protect you.”
Vera shook her head. “I deserved to know, about all of it. This is my reputation, my life.”
“I know.” He twisted his wand between his fingers anxiously. “And I’ve wanted to tell you, ever since my brother . . . and especially, ever since—”
“The study?” Vera finished for him, remembering. “When I found the note.”
Ominis nodded. “I truly did. But it didn’t feel like the right time. And you’ve been so busy ever since.”
Vera wanted to be angry. Really, she did. But looking at him now, she couldn’t help recalling her earlier thoughts about Sebastian. These were not boys who wanted to hurt her or see her suffer— no matter how ill-advised their methods.
And she also couldn’t help a twinge of guilt when she remembered why she had been so busy ever since that night: completing Professor Rookwood’s trial, and spending her free time in the Undercroft or in the library to study the triptych. Both of which she had kept secret from Ominis. How could she fault him from keeping secrets to protect her when she was doing the very same?
“I know,” she said quietly, dropping her head into her hands. “I just feel so foolish. Like I’m a circus sideshow that everyone has been lining up to see.” She gave a humorless laugh. “Apparently our own housemates have been spying on me. Spreading horrible rumors about—” She cut herself off, flushing pink. “Well, they don’t bear repeating.”
“Please don’t feel ashamed,” Ominis urged. “It’s not most of our housemates, just a nasty group of them. And even if it were— I’m no stranger to that kind of treatment. It reflects far more on them than it does on you. And eventually, the novelty will wear off, and things will get better.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Are you speaking from experience?”
He gave a wry smile. “Unfortunately, my family has continued to make ourselves the subject of scandal. You, on the other hand, have a very good chance of letting things fade into the background.” He paused. “Although, perhaps not too far into the background if you keep doing things like defending Hogsmeade from trolls. You know, there is such a thing as trying too hard.”
Vera rolled her eyes. “I’ll be sure to allow myself to be flattened, next time. For the sake of my reputation.”
He laughed again, and she finally cracked a smile.
“I’m glad you came with Sebastian to see Anne yesterday,” she changed the subject. “On our way back, she couldn’t stop talking about how lovely it was to have all her friends in one place.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it,” he said without hesitation. His smile turned pensive. “Nothing has been the same this year. I can hardly believe we’ll be going to the Halloween feast without her.”
“Does everyone usually dress up? I’ve heard a little discussion of costumes.”
“Absolutely,” he replied. “Even when Sebastian and I have tried to get out of it, Anne always insists. But I’m not sure what we’re doing this year. We haven’t talked about it. It seems . . . wrong, somehow, to dress up and celebrate when she can’t.”
“I’m sure she would insist on it,” Vera said, her chest squeezing at how lost Ominis seemed. “She seems determined that everyone should go on as they did before.”
“I wish she realized how impossible of a task that is.” She heard bitterness seeping in. “Everything is a reminder that she should be here, and she isn’t.”
“Ominis . . .” Vera hesitated again, winding a strand of dark hair around her finger. But, so long as they were already talking about uncomfortable subjects . . .
“Do you have intentions towards Anne?”
“Intent—” He was interrupted by a coughing fit that turned his face red.
“I only mean— you seem to really care for her,” Vera hurried to explain. “And you’ve known her for so long, and well . . . Grace might have mentioned something about a necklace, last Christmas?”
“Of course she did,” he muttered, clearing his throat. His fingers traced his wand repetitively, fidgeting. “Did Anne mention anything?”
“No.” Her curiosity mounted. “So . . . you do?”
Ominis sighed. “I . . .” He shook his head, brows furrowing. “It’s complicated. This is something else my family has ruined for me.”
“How?” Vera frowned.
“They’ve delighted in tormenting me ever since I was born. You saw how thrilled Marvolo was, when he thought . . . that you and I might be involved,” he reminded her bitterly. “My father would insist on giving his permission for any match I might attempt to make. And I would have to be the the worst kind of selfish to inflict my family on anyone I cared about.”
“Oh, Ominis,” she said quietly. As much as her heart went out to him, she couldn’t even argue with his logic. As a child, she had often dreamed of her own marriage as an escape from her father’s family; she realized that had she been born a boy, that escape would have become a trap, instead.
“So you see, it doesn’t matter,” he continued distantly. “I decided a long time ago that I would never have any intentions, towards anyone. Anne is a good friend; that’s all.”
“Isn’t there any way you could escape your family?” Vera wondered, unable to bear the way he seemed so resigned to his fate. “I mean, you have magic. You’re the youngest son. I’m not sure what kind of occupations there are for wizards, but it seems as though you could go halfway ‘round the world, if you wanted to. Leave them all behind.”
“And ask a woman to come with me, leave behind all she knew, for someone like me?” He snorted. “I know I make blindness look incredibly enviable, Vera, but I’m afraid that even for wizards and witches, it’s not exactly a selling point. I know the things that are said about me, about my heritage, and the worst part is that the rumors aren’t even false.” He turned away. “I come from the worst, most twisted sort of people. A family tree that’s rotten at the root and infected with the darkest kind of magic. The best course of action I have is to keep my head down, try to find an occupation that I don’t despise, and hope if I stay out of sight long enough, my father will forget about me.”
She leaned forward, indignation rising in her chest. “You mustn’t say these things about yourself! You’re a good person, Ominis. None of those things are your fault and they don’t have anything to do with who you’ve chosen to become.” She took his hand, forcing him to turn back towards her. “And I can’t imagine Anne cares about those things, either.”
He slipped his hand out of her grip, turning his face away. “It’s all moot, anyway. Something like this is hardly her top concern at the moment.”
Vera’s heart ached. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Because how could she assure him any differently, that Anne was going to be all right?
“You should show me what you’ve been working on.” Ominis changed the subject abruptly, standing from the bench and gesturing for her to sit down. “Unless that would be too close to showing off.”
His familiar smirk was half-hearted, doing a poor job of covering his morose mood. She felt suddenly guilty, having dredged up so many painful topics for him all at once. How could she deny him?
“All right. But I haven’t really been practising much,” she admitted. “I make no promises for the quality of what you’re about to hear.”
He tut-tutted. “What a pity. And here I was, thinking you might be interested in a performance opportunity coming up.”
“Oh?” She settled at the keys. “What might that be?”
“You’ll never find out if you don’t stay sharp,” he grinned, some of the sadness melting away. Vera rolled her eyes, glad he couldn’t see her grin back.
“You’re impossible.”
She was mid-way through her first piece when she heard the door open behind them.
“I should have known I’d find you here.”
Her fingers stumbled to a stop as she turned to look— meeting the very pair of eyes for which she had searched the castle in vain. The way the sight of him made the ball of anxiety in her chest loosen in relief only served to further unnerve her.
Sebastian.
“You were looking for me?” she replied, turning back towards the keys and picking up the melody again. “Could have fooled me. You were nowhere to be found this morning.”
Her heart began beating faster. She was afraid to look again, afraid of what she would see in his face.
“I do occasionally have to do some school work,” Sebastian replied smoothly. “But I thought I’d come and find you for some duel practice. The final Crossed Wands round is coming up soon, you know.”
She caught the edge to his tone, glancing at the clock on the wall. He had remembered their appointment with Helen today, after all.
“She’s rather in the middle of something,” Ominis said. “Perhaps violently flinging spells across the room at each other could wait a while longer?”
Vera looked at him apologetically, letting the final notes of the phrase fade into the air as she stood up. “I am sorry, Ominis, but Sebastian’s right. We do need to practice if we don’t want to be slaughtered in the final round.”
There it was— another lie. They were stacking up between the two of them, pushing him further away, when all she wanted was to be there for him. Guilt gnawed at her, and she looked down at the ground.
Ominis merely sighed. “I truly don’t know what the two of you find so entertaining about an unsanctioned duelling club.”
“Precisely the fact that it’s unsanctioned. You know me, Ominis.” Sebastian smirked. “It’s not any fun if there’s no challenge.”
Ominis snorted. “Surely, life is challenging enough on its own. I don’t need to make it any more difficult on purpose.”
Sebastian merely shrugged. “Different strokes. Ready, Vera?”
She followed him out of the room with one last glance back at Ominis. “We’ll come and find you when we’ve finished,” she called back.
“I hate lying to him,” she muttered after the door closed behind them. “Where on earth have you been? I’ve been looking for you all morning. I was hoping we could discuss the triptych.”
“Like I said, schoolwork,” Sebastian replied. He avoided her eyes. The pit in her stomach returned in full force.
“I thought you might have forgotten about meeting Helen,” she said, studying his expression. She didn’t like the shadow she saw there.
“Of course not,” he shook his head. “I promised I’d be there.”
“Right,” she said doubtfully. “You’ve just been hard to find, lately.”
A short, uncomfortable silence hung between them.
Pain, splitting through her head. Flickering candlelight. Angry voices.
“Please, Sebastian.” His voice broke. “I mean it. We must swear right now never to engage in anything to do with dark magic again.”
“Even though it saved us?” In the safety of the Undercroft, Sebastian’s voice was growing louder now, too. “Even though it could be what saves Anne?”
The heavy weight of an ancient spellbook, held tightly in her hands.
“I am sorry I haven’t been around much,” he said finally. “I’ve had a lot of studying to catch up on. But I should have thought about how the hearing tomorrow would have been affecting you.”
He sounded sincere. And despite her better judgment, Vera wanted to believe him.
“It’s all right,” she said. “You shouldn’t worry about that.”
He gave her a sideways glance. “But I do. We’re in this together, remember? And you’ve done so much to help me— including yesterday, with Anne.”
Vera felt herself turning red at the reminder of the beach. “It was nothing, really.”
She felt him smirking at her, enjoying her embarrassment. “Oh, it was quite a memorable outing, in my opinion. Really lifted my spirits.”
She smacked him, then, laughing as he jogged down the hall away from her, relaxing into their familiar rapport. And she hoped against hope that things might finally be returning to normal.