Toxic Romance

A thrill unlike any other embraced Harriet as she tiptoed out of her House common room, the door melting back into oblivion behind her. Her companion shifted beside her, betraying his nervousness. Harriet didn’t need a light to tell that his gray eyes were shifting restlessly in the dark, so she grasped his hand, and giving him a reassuring squeeze, stepped further into the darkness beyond.

They were slowly and cautiously making their way upwards to the seventh floor, where the Gryffindor students were housed. They had of course planned to pick up Hermione on the way, even if they had to make the extra trip. The moving staircases were their first huddle, as the one they were on had shifted from the seventh floor on to the third, just as they were about to get off. Draco had barely strangled a surprised yelp from the sudden movement, and just in time, too, as a few of the people in the paintings stirred in their sleep, and grasped tightly onto their linked hands. 

The dim hallway stretched out ominously before them, the shadows from both sides pressing into the large space, making it seem narrower and more foreboding. A single torch glimmered at the end of the hall, right next to a closed door, standing out even through the blurry view within the cloak, highlighted as if it were their destination. 

“Come on, Harry, we’ll be late. I for one don’t want Granger yapping my ear off the entire night.” Came Draco’s trembling whisper next to her ear. Right, they were wasting time here. They needed to go collect Hermione after all.

A clock chimed somewhere in the castle, marking the strike of midnight. The sound didn’t make Harriet feel any better hearing it in that particular place, a sentiment seemingly echoed by Draco, who squeezed her hand even tighter than he might ever deign to admit. Though it had seemed like an eternity, it was only just a few minutes before the staircase moved again, a stroke of luck for them, since they hadn’t climbed onto the third floor landing. They walked as fast as they could when they made it to the seventh floor, and finding the portrait of the Fat Lady, knocked on it to send a signal to Hermione inside, who quietly opened the door.

“Is that you, Harry?” She mumbled.

Harriet pulled the Cloak back eagerly in confirmation, exposing both her face and Draco’s. The smile she had sported in greeting died as she immediately noticed that something was off, when she saw Hermione biting her lip, and shifting from one foot to the other. Her fears were confirmed when she leaned in and whispered:

“I still think that this is a bad idea. What if we get caught? We could be expelled!”

Draco exchanged a look with Harriet at that, as if in silent conversation. He shot Hermione an incredulous look in turn, as if she had uttered that books were no longer factual.

“Are you daft? You said that we shouldn’t leave without you at dinner, and now you say this after we’ve come all this way?”  

Hermione glanced at him reproachfully, opening her mouth to no doubt utter a retort at his callous remark, but Harriet beat her to it.

“Please, you two, we don’t have time for this. Filch could be here any minute now! Mione, are you coming or not?” Harriet implored, searching the other girl's face in a silent plea. 

Hermione bit her lip as she glanced between the open portrait and her friends, fear and uncertainty warring on her visage. Harriet stepped forward as quickly as the Cloak would allow, her rising panic spurring her on, and grasped at Hermione's hands. 

"Please, Mione, we can't do this without you."

Hermione's face adopted a look of surprise, and then her eyes hardened with resolve. Harriet saw the exact moment she made up her mind, and smiled at her in reassurance. 

Draco scoffed lightly as she joined them under the Cloak, which Hermione staunchly chose to ignore for once. It seemed like Merlin was answering all of Harriet's prayers that night.

Their luck had held on so far, minus the staircase incident, and they were making their way quietly down again, carefully making sure that their feet were hidden, and checking every which way for Filch and Mrs Norris.

Perhaps it was because her aim tonight was of a different nature, a far more dangerous one than what she had undertaken during Christmas break, but it seemed that her imagination was acting up more than usual in reflection of her nervousness, because while their path was barely illuminated by the flickering torches, the shadows on the walls were twisting and bending in to foreign shapes, which shifted their forms with every step that they took toward their destination. 

Harriet breathed slowly to calm her mind, reassuring herself that both her friends were there beside her. The mantra she had learned from her uncle when she were younger kept repeating itself in her mind:

"Enough with your foolish imagination, girl!" 

Harriet felt a harsh pang in her chest at the memory, her mind going blank for a moment. She missed them, missed her relatives so terribly that she couldn’t wait for the term to finish so that she could see them again. 

‘But at the same time…’

She glanced at her friends by her side, both who had been with her that year, through thick and thin, even coming on this selfish adventure that she had agreed to. And not to mention ‘he’ was still here, too, the only reason why she had undertaken this wild endeavour. She shook her head as much as the space within the Invisibility Cloak could allow, clearing her heavy thoughts.

 Right, everything else could wait. For now, she needed to focus on their mission, and on not being caught.

'This is it.' Thought Harriet, excitement coursing through her.

They had finally made it to the third floor corridor, for the second time that night. She nudged her friends, urging them to pick up the pace, as they started checking the rooms. 

All said rooms were dusty and deserted, stacked haphazardly with chairs and desks, which added to the overall gloomy interior. They tried their best to search as quietly as they could, but they were moving too slowly to have made any progress. They could all tell that time was running out. Every time they shuffled around was another opportunity for them to be caught by the caretaker. Not to mention, they had to carefully erase any sign of their having been in the classrooms as they left. The stress from their fruitless search was starting to get to her, and they were still nowhere near finished searching all the rooms there.

“Oh, this is getting us nowhere! Harry, let’s leave, we could try again another night.”

“As much as I don’t want to agree with her, she’s right, Harry, maybe there’s nothing here after all.”

“Keep your voices down!” Harriet snapped at her friends in a whisper. Her eyes widened as soon as she realized what she had done. She lowered her voice and said in an apologetic tone:

“Look, I get it, this night has been a bust so far. How about we just check one more room, yeah? And then we can call it a night?”

Hermione nodded enthusiastically, while Draco just sighed and offered a low “fine” to her suggestion. Harriet breathed a sigh of relief, feeling elated at their trust in her so far.

“Okay, then. Let’s try the door over there, shall we?”

Perhaps it was a reaction born from instinct, one thoroughly refined from the thousands of years throughout man’s evolution, or perhaps it was the adrenaline that had been coursing through them the entire night. Whatever it was, there was no denying that the room they had been searching for the entire night, was right behind the door they now stood at.

The receding winter chill made its way under the flowing Cloak, dragging against their skin, as if in warning, urging them to return to their dorms in haste. They had made it this far now, and not to mention, Harriet had a goal in mind, and she would not let some ill-placed cowardice distract her from it.

She reached out her hand from underneath the Cloak, and wind from behind the door rustled the fabric, making goosebumps break out on her exposed arm. Her hand hovered over the door’s handle, her fingertips brushing just above it. Harriet heard an audible gulp from behind her, and using that as her cue, grabbed the handle and pulled…

‘Oh.’

“It’s locked.”

Silence rang from the bubble she was in with her friends. Harriet hadn’t noticed that they had both leaned in as she had, but she could now just make out a stifled laughter.

‘Not now, Draco.’

Hermione, meanwhile, had clearly had enough. 

“Oh, move over.” 

Her wand was already out when she nudged Harriet out of her way. With a whispered “Alohomora”, the door creaked open loudly. 

The first thing that they noticed was the smell. Well, stench would be a more apt description. It hung heavily in the air, stale and stagnant, like it had been trapped in there for a very long time. A low rumble was coming from the bowels of the darkness beyond, and for the first time that night, they all hesitated to continue their search. Harriet glanced back at her friends, seeing that they had both gone pale. 

‘Right. One of us has to enter first.’ 

“St-stay behind me, guys. I’ll lead the way.”

Draco nodded firmly in agreement, while Hermione gave a more subdued one. Gulping down her nervousness, Harriet stepped forward.

The darkness enveloped every surface in the room, making it even more difficult to see into the gloom. There was music coming from somewhere farther in, but she couldn’t pinpoint exactly where it was coming from.

 Harriet let out a quiet grunt of pain as something sharp caught onto her exposed ankle, and a familiar blooming warmth spread into her sock. She didn’t know what had wounded her, so ripping away her ankle carelessly might lead to fatal results that she wasn’t prepared to deal with now, so close to their goal. So she kept herself firmly in place. Harriet waved away her friends questions of concern by squeezing their hands reassuringly, telling them that she needed to take in more of the room.

 It would be extremely risky to cast Lumos, as they didn’t know who might notice the light in the darkness, so in a moment of infectious Gryffindor stupidity, that she had contacted through Weasel, she whipped back the Cloak to see better.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark, having stopped briefly to take in her new surroundings, that was definitely what stopped her from making her gravest mistake of the night.

The tip of a wicked-looking claw was lodged firmly into her ankle. In a sort of horrid fascination, Harriet dragged her eyes onward, only to see the most massive paw connected to said claw, the rest of which had left gouges in the stone floor. And just up ahead, were three massive heads resting on the other paw, with their black noses twitching over three drooling mouths. 

A deep rumble echoed in the chamber, followed by a breath which rustled the Cloak, making it fly completely off of Harriet’s shoulders. She stood there, transfixed by their sleeping faces, and somehow, she just couldn’t help but see the resemblance between them and her Aunt Marge’s dog, Ripper.

“Harry, you alright there?” Came a muffled voice from behind her. She heard rustling, and thinking fast, spun and clapped her hands around her friends’ mouths. It was dreadfully lucky that she had done so because a few moments later, Draco’s shrill scream and Hermione’s desperate cry were muffled considerably by her hands, though some of it still spilled out.

The heads twitched, the nostrils flaring as if it had caught their scents. They all held their breaths as three pairs of ears twitched in their direction. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, it relaxed back into its sleeping position, dead asleep.

Draco was tugging at Harriet’s sleeve, trying to pull her toward the open door. Hermione had gone as pale as a sheet, her hand clutching the front of her robe. Her mouth was opening and closing repeatedly in terror. 

Harriet’s heart ached for her at the sight. It was true that she wanted to find the Stone, but she couldn’t leave her friends in this state. She felt her heart tear, she was so close, so close to her goal, so close to seeing Severus smile at her again, if only…if only…

‘...If only they weren’t here.’ 

Harriet’s eyes widened in horror at the dark thought that had swirled its way to the front of her mind. She shut her eyes, trying to will away the blasphemous thoughts, but that only seemed to make them worse.

‘They’ve been useless the entire night.’

“That’s not true.” She mumbled in an effort to convince herself.

Harriet put more weight on her bleeding ankle, and let the sting replace the traitorous thoughts. She barely succeeded and gave her friends a wan smile as she started to head for the door. She stopped at the last moment, not wanting to leave without achieving much that night, and glanced back to find something, any clue that she could get about the Stone’s whereabouts. Her gaze alighted on a corner she hadn’t noticed before. A beautiful golden harp was playing, its now familiar tune washing the rest of Harriet’s doubts away. She turned to follow her friends out, now satisfied that she had at least gained a clue of her search, of what, she didn’t know, but she was confident in her friends’ abilities, so she had faith that they would figure it out together.

If only things were that simple. Fate had apparently decided that a lot of things were going too well for Harriet and her friends that night, because she sent a kick in the face in the form of the only other person Harriet hadn’t wanted to meet that night:

Peeves.

“OOOH, what’s this? Ickle firsties out of bed?”

The three of them whipped around to face the owner of the smarmy voice that had now materialized behind them. He floated over to the sleeping dog, pulling at one of its ears roughly. The heads whimpered and snuffled, a paw coming up to bat away the nuisance. Peeves giggled at that, making his way over to pull at it again.

“Don’t you dare!” Snapped Draco at the foul poltergeist.

Peeves blew a raspberry and made a rude gesture at Draco. He reached to pull at the ear again, but Hermione’s voice quivered as she asked him to stop. He only paused momentarily, before reaching again slowly to pat the ear, as if considering his next move.

“...No.” He giggled gleefully as he gave the ear another harsh tug.

Harriet wracked her brain, trying to think of a way out of this mess. Even if they ran and left Peeves behind, there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t immediately head in Filch’s direction and tattle on them. She must have thought for too long, because when next she focused on him, he was inspecting the harp.

Draco had pulled out his wand and was brandishing it threateningly in Peeves’ direction. Hermione was trying to get the Invisibility Cloak around their shoulders again, since it had flown off due to the beast’s snores.

By the time Harriet could get the Cloak over her own head, Peeves had lifted the harp off of the floor. Harriet watched him drop it as if in slow motion. Draco’s Wingardium Leviosa had missed, hitting the far wall, just to the left of Peeves. The harp hit the floor with a deafening crash, and as the stood there, the beast opened its eyes. 

Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes locked immediately on the poltergeist. Yellow fangs snapped at Peeves’s feet, just missing it as he disappeared. It barked in frustration, having narrowly missed its target. Harriet and her friends didn’t stick around as it had turned its attention on him. They closed the door just as the dog’s three noses sniffed, apparently having smelled something.

Harriet, Draco, and Hermione leaned on the wall next to the door, having lost all the strength in their legs due to the ordeal they had just faced. 

None of them could summon the strength to say anything to one another, but they couldn’t afford to linger there any longer, not after all the racket they’ve caused. The slowly got to their feet, and that was when fate decided to give them a punch in the gut. 

“That damn dog is making a fuss again!”

The three of them froze as Filch’s voice drifted in from the end of the corridor. He was hobbling up the steps as fast as he could. With no time to think, Draco yanked them toward the suit of armor next to the third floor entrance, and made them crouch, trying to make themselves as small as possible. Filch went past them without even looking at their hiding place. They collectively sighed in relief.

“Let’s go.” Harriet mouthed to them both.

They had made their way about halfway down the stairs when they heard it. The damned cat had somehow gotten behind them in their haste to leave, and they were now shuffling backwards while keeping their eyes firmly on her. Mrs Norris didn’t seem to see them exactly, as she was just looking in their general direction. She had tilted her head to the side, a gesture that they would have all found cute, if only they weren’t absolutely terrified out of their wits. She meowed again, this time successfully drawing Filch’s attention.

“What is it Mrs Norris? Find something interesting for me?”

Filch was now descending the stairs rather quickly than Harriet and her friends had anticipated. They shuffled backwards again, all the while trying not to tumble down the remaining stairs to their freedom. It seemed that Mrs Norris had sensed them move, because she started advancing on their position, her meows now getting louder. Harriet spared Filch a glance, trying to calculate how much farther they could get away if they break into a run, and her blood ran cold at what she saw.

Filch had crouched over a glistening patch of red on the otherwise pristine stairs, observing it like a seasoned detective from one of Dudley's shows would. He reached out and dabbed his hand in it, bringing it up into the light of the lamp he was holding. An expression of clarity overcame his terrifying features, and deep down Harriet knew, that if they get caught in this moment, they would all be done for.

A slow, sinister smile crept across Filch’s terrifying visage as he uttered.

“Let us catch the intruders, Mrs Norris.”

Harriet’s heart sank into her stomach as she cut the cat a glance, only to see that it had pounced at their location, a shrill scream coming from her. Her claws were extended, a mad look in her wide, slit eyes. Her claws were almost where Harriet’s face was, so close that even the view from beneath the Cloak wasn’t enough to obstruct the horror aiming for her. Someone behind her let out a loud yelp, tripping backward on the stairs. Harriet felt her heart slow down as the Cloak shifted, lifting just enough to reveal her ankles. She knew, in that moment, that Filch had seen them too, because he leapt toward them, arm outstretched to detain the ‘intruder’.

Everything was moving too fast and too slowly at the same time. Her mind ran a mile a minute, in contrast to her sluggish heartbeat. Desperate gasps filled her ears, which she belatedly realized were her own.

‘No, not like this. It can’t end like this. Nonononononon…’

Terror had caught her heart in its sharp claws, digging in to bleed out all the courage that had had their feeble hold within. 

She couldn’t think. 

She couldn’t breathe. 

Something familiar was bubbling up within her, reacting to her terror, feeding on it, bathing in its oily hold, baptizing itself in its toxic warmth. Disappointed faces flew by in her minds eye, rising in the torrents of the familiar bubbles that now begged to break free. One face stood out from the rest, her reason for being there tonight. Then something else replaced her terror.

Rage.

Pure unadulterated rage.

‘HOW DARE HE? HOW DARE FILCH GET IN MY WAY? HE DARES, HE DARES…’

The bubbles were now just under her skin, reveling in their anticipation of being let out. 

The cat latched on to her cloaked face.

Filch’s hand brushed her shoulder.

A hand behind her grasped on to her shirt collar.

…And Harriet…Just. Let. Go.

A massive shock wave ripped out of her, tossing everyone off. The stairs groaned at the unexpected strain, swinging wildly as it missed its next anchor. Filch had tumbled back into the dark third floor corridor, and Mrs Norris was yowling where she was scrambling for purchase on the lopsided stairwell. Harriet had somehow landed at the bottom of the swinging stairs, staring at the flickering torches in their brackets above her head. There was a strange ringing in her ears, and the view from her askew glasses were obstructed by a head of white hair just out of focus. The shape was pulling at her arms, the sense of touch registering sharply.

She shot up as her memory came rushing back with a vengeance, the events of the night making themselves well-known as she doubled over from the throbbing pain coming from every part of her body. 

Hermione moved into her line of sight, a white-knuckled grip on the Cloak. She helped Draco pull Harriet to an unsteady standing position. Her lips were moving too fast for Harriet to make out the words she were saying, not that she could hear anything through the buzz that clouded her hearing.

Then her hearing came back, and the one word that registered from both of her friends echoed loudly in the corridor.

"...Run!"

Harriet only looked back long enough to see that Filch had gotten back to his feet, screaming in agony in response to Mrs Norris' fate.

Hands pulled at Harriet roughly, dragging her into the dim halls beyond. The three of them ran pell mell through the hallways, way past the point of care of being seen. Portraits were startled awake at their retreat, as they bumped into the walls and crashed into the suits of armor lining the walls. They didn't know where they were going, they just knew that they had to get away.

Adrenaline pumped in Harriet's veins, forcing her to keep moving. Terror guided her every step, every pound of her feet on the cold stone floor etching the emotion like a living threat into her mind. But something else accompanied that terror, something she hadn't expected.

Excitement.

It flowed free, and unobstructed, and alive in her veins, her heart pumping more of the elation into her bloodstream, startling a joyful laugh out of her.

They ran past tapestries and more portraits, up more flights of stairs and slid down banisters, until they somehow made it to the seventh floor, just off the side from the Gryffindor dorms where they all doubled over, panting like they had just run a marathon around the entire castle. Harriet's body chose that exact moment to register the pain the adrenaline had kept her mind off of. She couldn’t hide her wince as she observed her ankle. It had drawn the attention of her friends unfortunately, and they were watching her with concern. The wound was ragged around the edges of an obviously deep cut, bleeding freely enough to stain her sock and drip to the floor.

"We should get you to Madam Pomfrey, Harry." Hermione stated, having gotten her breathing under control.

"And say what? " Snapped Draco. His eyes had gone wide, wildly darting around the place. "That we snuck out and entered the forbidden corridor? Yes, I'm sure that will go over well!" 

Harriet slapped her hands over their mouths for the second time that night. Both of then glared at her, but then they heard it.

They didn't have the time to say anything more to each other, because at that moment, they heard Filch’s voice just around the bend. They exchanged wide-eyed looks, and Hermione, shoving the Cloak at Harriet and Draco, took off toward the portrait of the Fat Lady, who Harriet saw had mercifully remained in her frame for the night. She threw the Cloak over herself and Draco, just in time for Filch to come barrelling around the corner, Mrs Norris hot on his heels. Draco grabbed Harriet’s hand and pulled her after him.

No matter where they went, Filch seemed to be just seconds behind them, dogging their every step. Harriet was panting harshly in pain, all the running jarring her ankle. Draco wasn't much better off, as sweat was pouring down his face, matting his platinum hair to his forehead. Their pace had slowed considerably, and Harriet knew that it was only a matter of time before Filch caught up to them.

Guilt rend her heart, picking away at her resolve in not putting her friends in danger. They were there because of her, putting their own lives in danger because of her selfishness. 

'I'll find another way to impress him. But for now...' She glanced at Draco, who was dragging her desperately to safety, '...I have to make this right.'

They made it to a fork in the hallway, and Harriet skidded to a halt, the sudden stop making Draco yank on her arm as he barely got his feet under him in time. He spun to face her, his pupils blown wide in panic.

"What are you doing? Let's go!"

"I can't." Her voice came out in a small whimper. He glanced down at her ankle in alarm.

"I- I don't think I can carry you, Harry. But we need to move. If Filch catches us..." He choked up. 

"I know," Harriet smiled at him, " that's why I want you to take the Cloak and go." 

"That’s stu-" 

"I HEAR YOU, YOU BASTARD! YOU'LL PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID TO MRS NORRIS!" 

They both froze. Draco's pulse jumped where their hands were entwined. Harriet ducked out from under the Cloak, and shoved him roughly toward the left corridor.

"Go I'll distract him."

"But-"

"GO!"

Harriet heard him stumble a few times before running away. She dashed to the end of the right side, and toppled a suit of armor just as Filch came into view. Having gotten his attention, she resumed their inevitable chase.

Harriet didn't know how long she ran for, or how far she had gone, but she was now pelting through an unfamiliar part of the castle. Her laboured breaths had become too hard to ignore, her sore ankle aching something fierce. Her body hurt all over, but she couldn’t stop, not now. 

"STOP, POTTER!" 

'Damn it.'

Her weak ankle caught on something, and she went flying, landing on the stone floor with a hard thump, as her glasses clattered away into the dark. She tried to get up, but she couldn’t will her arms under her to lift herself up. Heavy footsteps echoed behind her as she tried to crawl away, a wretched sob escaping from her throat. She moved all of five inches away before a hand grabbed her hair and yanked, forcing her upright.

"I've caught you, you filthy rat." Filch said in a strangely calm voice, so unlike what she'd heard while he had been chasing her. Mrs Norris echoed his sentiments, hissing and spitting as she batted at her legs.

A strangled yelp forced its way from her throat as her voice cracked at the end, no air left to carry her agony. Filch started to drag her away, jostling her ankle in the process. This time, she couldn't fight back the broken scream that ripped out of her. 

There was no one near to save her this time, no one left to hear her cries. Harriet allowed herself a rueful smile.

'At least Draco and Mione had gotten away.'

"Oh, you're smiling aren't you? Don't think you're going to be in much trouble just because you're the 'Chosen One', right? Well let me tell you something..."

He had stopped walking to lean in close, his hot breath tickled her ear. 

"You attacked us, harmed Mrs Norris, whom I love very much, " His voice had gone cold, and Harriet’s blurry eyes widened as it went even colder. "By the time I hand you over to Dumbledore in the morning for expulsion... you wouldn't be smiling when you discover just how uncomfortable...the shackles in my office are." 

He had leaned back and stood in one smooth motion. Harriet didn’t need her glasses to tell that he was giving her a nasty smile.

"So keep smiling, Miss Potter."

He tugged her upwards to a standing position, but her legs immediately gave out beneath her. That hadn't deterred him though, as he resigned himself to just dragging her along.

Her eyes had gone wide in shock, naked panic evident in her shifting orbs. Blurs were all she could see, no hope of salvation presenting itself through the murky vision of her own custom made blindness. 

The entire endeavour had been cursed from the start. What had begun as a dream of adventure and heroism to her and her friends, had quickly turned into a nightmare. 

'That’s right,' she thought bitterly, 'a nightmare is all this is.'

Harriet tried to convince herself of her friends safety, tried to grasp unto that thin lifeline with a her might, but...

'Am I truly satisfied with that?'

She bit her lip so hard that it drew blood, a sharp sting of pain which was soon dulled, blending seamlessly with the rest. Tears stung her eyes, but she stubbornly held them back. Her mind went back to what Filch had said.

Expulsion.

'No, it can’t be, anything but that.'

She'd promised herself not to be a burden, swore to not disgrace her relatives with her uselessness anymore, and where had that gotten her? Being dragged like the disgrace she was to Filch’s office for punishment. 

Her chest tightened in her desperate effort to breathe. For once, she didn’t leap in joy at the thought of seeing her relatives soon. Because that meant something else that she wasn't quite ready for:

'I wouldn't see Mione and Draco again.'

And something else, a thought too sinister for her to bear on her already weakened shoulders:

'...I'll never see Severus again.'

As it was, that moment of jarring clarity was all she needed. She didn’t know how, but her arms had somehow snaked around something sturdy, refusing to let go. Filch yanked at her again, but she didn't budge.

"Now, now no need to be so difficult, wouldn't want to wake Professor Snape, right? Would wonder what one of his snakes was doing slithering in the third floor, wouldn't he?" 

No doubt, Filch’s words were intended to strike fear in her, brand hopelessness into her rebellion, but it had given Harriet something she hadn't felt in that night, in the unending darkness that was that entire nightmare:

Hope.

Harriet’s mind shed the slog of despair that had clung to it, and tightened her arms around the string that had dangled in her face unexpectedly. 

'If this was where Severus' room was...'

She swallowed, bracing herself for the most stupid thing she had done tonight.

"Help." Her voice croaked out in the silence.

"The nerve of you, girl. You think I'd help you after-"

"HELP ME!" 

She felt Filch’s tugging cease when he realized what she was doing. Then he started tugging at her even harder, hissing at her to shut up. Her hands were slipping even as she held on for dear life. Her nails cracked under the pressure of the ruthlessness of the abuse they were subjected to. Even so, she had to try. Her blood coated fingers fought for purchase on her lifeline, almost having been dragged completely off of it.

"HELP ME, PLEASE!"

Filch had managed to pull her off completely, dragging her with renewed purpose and urgency. Harriet kicked and screamed, fighting to be heard, making as much noise as possible for him to hear, to rip her out of this nightmare that had gone on for way too long. She was pulled again, a scream tearing from her throat, when a door opened to her left.

Harriet didn’t need her glasses to see him, as she had memorised his entire outline a long time ago, not needing her unpredictable glasses to sully the image.

The entire corridor had frozen upon his arrival, the darkness he carried everywhere with him seemingly sweeping out to encompass its entirety. A bright light shone out from behind him, bathing the darkness in its gentle glow. 

"Professor Snape, there you are! Caught a student out of bed, I did. Just taking her-" But Filch didn't finish speaking.

A blast of light struck him squarely in his chest, pulling out a few strands of Harriet's hair as he was thrown back. She didn’t hear him move again, and a second one slammed into Mrs Norris, who had still been by her legs. 

He stepped toward her, footsteps surprisingly light on the stone floor. A hand was stretched toward her, the blurry outline held out for her to take. The tears that had threatened to spill before then broke free of the dam that had barred them in, as she took his hand.

That's right, he was both the most beautiful, and most terrible nightmare of all. 

"What took you so long?"