Mixed Signals

Severus reread Lucius’s invitation with a sense of reluctance. He loathed those tedious galas, always overflowing with ostentation and pretence, where the magical elite gathered to flaunt their power and wealth. Such events suffocated him, not only because of the excessive luxury but also because he was invariably surrounded by the ghosts of his school years—figures from his past he would rather forget. He knew full well that Lucius hosted these gatherings to bolster his status, but Severus never shared that enthusiasm. In fact, he would have preferred anything else to attending, but Dumbledore had pressed him to go, suggesting that observing the old Death Eaters might prove useful. As always, the Headmaster’s word was as good as an order to him.

With a resigned sigh, he began rummaging through his wardrobe, searching for a formal robe suitable for the occasion. As he did so, his eyes lingered, for a fleeting moment, on a small wooden box. Letters from Katya spilled out of it—letters he had reread so many times that the edges had begun to fray. For a second, he froze, feeling his heart quicken. Then, with a brusque movement, he shut the wardrobe doors. Not now, he thought, pushing those memories to the back of his mind.

The gala was exactly what he had expected: an extravagant display of luxury. Lucius Malfoy glided gracefully among the guests, surrounded by the elite of the Ministry and the pure-blood families of England and France. Everyone looked dazzling, as if they had stepped straight out of a fashion parade. Severus, however, remained on the outskirts, leaning against a wall, mentally counting down the minutes until he could leave. Every golden chandelier, every false laugh reminded him of just how much he despised being there. He felt like an outsider, as though he were part of a play he had no wish to perform in.

As he tried to lose himself in thought, Narcissa Malfoy approached him with her usual poised smile, breaking his temporary isolation.

“Severus,” she greeted him, with that natural elegance she always exuded, “Lucius is looking for you. He wants you to meet someone.”

Severus sighed internally. He already knew what this was about. Another attempt by Lucius to introduce him to some young woman from a respectable family, as though pairing him off was part of his list of social obligations. Perhaps he ought to tell them that he was cursed by Katya, that their connection had ensnared him irreversibly, and they might finally stop parading women before him who failed to pique his interest. But, as always, he chose silence and followed Narcissa, hoping it would all be over quickly.

As they wove their way through the guests, his gaze suddenly settled on a female figure with her back turned to him. She wore an elegant black dress with thin straps, adorned with delicate silver appliqués shaped like runes that gleamed under the candlelight. Her dark hair was styled into a high comb fashioned like silver leaves, leaving the graceful curve of her neck exposed. Severus felt a pang in his stomach, as though something within him had jolted awake. There was something familiar about her posture, about the way her body moved subtly as she conversed with someone.

“Ah, here you are!” Lucius exclaimed, drawing his attention as they approached. “Allow me to introduce you to Katya Borislova, of the Borislovs of Russia. She’ll be working with us for a while.”

Katya turned slowly, and when their eyes met, time seemed to freeze. Severus felt a wave of repressed emotions hit him with the force of a hurricane. There she was, as immaculate and ethereal as the last time he had seen her. For a second, they both stood frozen, trapped in a tension neither seemed to know how to break. She quickly averted her gaze, visibly uncomfortable, but not before he caught the flicker of surprise in her grey eyes.

“Severus is one of the finest potion masters at Hogwarts,” Lucius continued, completely oblivious to the tension that had descended between them. “I’ve always told him he’s overqualified for that place. Katya will be managing our finances, both in the magical and Muggle markets.”

Katya forced a small smile and extended her hand to Severus.

“Severus, hello,” she said softly, her fingers adorned with fine, gleaming rings.

Severus took her hand cautiously, his gaze fixed on hers, searching for some clue, some indication of what was really happening. There was something in Katya’s expression that disturbed him deeply, a gleam in her eyes he couldn’t decipher. What is she doing here, among the Malfoys? he thought, feeling distrust begin to take root in his mind. Why now, just as the Dark Mark has begun to burn again on my skin?

As he held her hand, Severus tried to recall every one of their past encounters. He mentally retraced all their conversations, the letters they had exchanged over the years, trying to find any sign he might have overlooked. Katya had always been transparent about her origins. She came from an influential, wealthy family in Russia, something she had never hidden. She had even warned him on more than one occasion that her father was a dangerous man with many contacts in the magical community. But never—not once—had she hinted at knowing powerful families in England, let alone the Malfoys.

The unease within him grew like a dark shadow. He knew Katya had spent much of her time working and studying among Muggles, a position she had always defended firmly. She despised the restrictive laws of her country, which forbade marrying Muggles, and had expressed her disapproval more than once. So why was she here? Katya’s presence in this social circle, so aligned with blood purity ideals, made no sense to him. And that filled him with growing suspicion.

As he observed her, he felt a pang of betrayal. What if all this time she had been manipulating me? What if Katya, with her charm, had deceived me from the very beginning? Severus knew there had always been something dark in their relationship, something he never fully understood, but now, confronted with her presence at Lucius’s gala, those fears began to take shape.

He tried to maintain his composure, but his mind was flooded with erratic thoughts, circling the same idea. Had I been a fool? Everything they had shared, everything she had confided in him—had it all been a lie? He felt as though the ground beneath his feet was beginning to shift. While the conversation continued around him, Severus could barely concentrate on what was being said. His thoughts dragged him back to those moments they shared in Vienna, to that intimacy that had felt so genuine at the time.

Had it all been a farce? The idea of having been used, of having been just another pawn in a game he didn’t understand, filled him with rage. And yet, despite everything, he couldn’t ignore the fact that, despite his suspicions, he remained trapped in his obsession with her. Katya still held that inexplicable power over him, that magnetism that drew him in and repelled him at the same time.

Severus tried to focus on what Lucius was saying, but his gaze kept drifting back to Katya. He didn’t know whether he was angrier at himself for still wanting her, or at her for not being what he had thought. But deep down, he knew one thing for certain: he needed answers. And Katya was the only one who could give them to him.

She had never given any indication of sharing the regressive ideals of supremacy that Lucius and his followers espoused. Had she been hiding her true nature all this time? The thought crossed Severus’s mind, and his brow furrowed almost immediately. Did she secretly despise Muggles, pretending to be tolerant while aligning herself with blood purity ideals? The very idea of it made him feel as though the ground beneath his feet was crumbling.

As doubt consumed him, Albus Dumbledore’s words began to echo in his mind, cold and sharp: “Do not lament, Severus. You do not know if you can truly trust her, and you must not tell her the truth.” That warning, which had once seemed unnecessary, now struck him with the weight of a dire omen. What if Dumbledore had been right all along? What if I was a fool to lower my guard?

Paranoia was taking hold of him, its claws sinking deeper into his thoughts. Had Katya been part of a larger plan to manipulate me? Perhaps she had been moulded to perfection, every detail of her personality crafted to attract him, to seduce him, making him believe she shared his views when it had all been an illusion. Perhaps they had believed that a woman would be the key to tethering him irrevocably to the Death Eaters. She was too perfect. Too ideal. Did I truly know the real Katya? Or had everything I loved about her been a carefully constructed façade to lead me straight into a trap?

A growing sense of betrayal began to rise within him, though he had no concrete evidence. It was as though the pieces of the puzzle simply didn’t fit. She can’t be the Katya I knew. The woman who had shared intimate moments with him, who had written with such fervour about her ideals and convictions, who passionately defended equality between wizards and Muggles... that woman had nothing in common with Lucius Malfoy’s followers. No, she couldn’t be one of them. But then, what was she doing here?

Seeing her in that environment—smiling, conversing, acting as though she belonged—only deepened his confusion. Lucius’s circle was not a place for just anyone. Only those who shared his darkest ideals, those who saw blood purity as a privilege, were welcomed at those gatherings. Severus knew that better than anyone. And yet, there was Katya, perfectly integrated, as though she had always belonged to that world.

“Do you know each other?” Narcissa asked, perceiving the palpable tension between them but smiling with a studied politeness.

“We crossed paths at a Potioneers’ Assembly some time ago,” Severus replied quickly, taking Katya’s hand gently, trying to maintain his composure. “A pleasure to see you again, Katya.”

Katya’s eyes briefly met Severus’s, but her expression was unreadable. Narcissa and Lucius exchanged a knowing glance, and Lucius, with his usual casual tone, bid them farewell.

“Oh, my dear. I think we’re intruding here,” he said with a sly smile. “Excuse us.”

As soon as they moved away, Severus could contain himself no longer. His mind buzzed with questions, suspicions, and a confusion that threatened to overwhelm him. He stared at her, trying to decipher every one of her gestures, attempting to see beyond the surface. For a moment, the temptation to use Legilimency was too strong. He could read her mind, find out what on earth was happening, unravel her secrets. But he quickly dismissed the idea. He knew that Katya was an exceptional Occlumens, perhaps even better than him in some respects. There was no way to access her thoughts without her knowing.

“What are you doing here?” he finally asked, his voice more desperate than he would have liked to reveal. He couldn’t hide the anxiety he felt at seeing her in that place.

Katya took a glass of champagne from a passing house-elf and sipped it slowly before responding, as though buying herself time.

“I work for the Malfoys now” she said calmly, avoiding his gaze. “My father has had connections with them for years, and I decided to accept a new offer.”

Severus noticed how her eyes shifted to the guests surrounding them, as though she couldn’t face him directly. Something in her explanation didn’t add up. Katya had always despised everything the Malfoys stood for. Why, then, was she working for them?

“Why England?” Severus pressed, his distrust seeping into every word. “You had incredible offers in New York.” He moved closer. “I sent you letters,” he lamented.

Katya stared at him for a moment, her grey eyes scrutinising him. Then she let out a derisive huff, stepping slightly away from him.

“It’s none of your business, Severus,” she replied coldly, avoiding a real answer. “And yes, I received your letters.”

“Why didn’t you reply?” he asked, his voice betraying the irritation he felt. He knew he sounded far too vulnerable, but he couldn’t help it.

“Do you want me to give you a list of reasons?” she mocked, her tone sharp.

Katya’s words hit him like a splash of cold water. What had happened? There was something about her attitude, the way she avoided giving him a direct answer, that deeply unsettled him. It was as though every word was carefully calculated, designed to keep him in the dark. Was she hiding something? As he looked at her, a growing sense of distrust settled in his mind.

Perhaps she was playing him, getting revenge for what had happened in Vienna. What if all this time she had been manipulating him? Doubt gnawed at him. He knew he couldn’t fully trust her, yet he couldn’t stop himself from feeling that uncontrollable desire to uncover the truth. His obsession with Katya grew darker with every second he spent in her presence.

Who was Katya Borislova, really? That question haunted him, and the more he looked at her, the more he realised that he didn’t know the answer. But there was one thing he couldn’t ignore: he needed to know, even if the truth destroyed him.

Katya maintained her composure, her posture straight and confident as she dealt with the inquisitive glances surrounding her. Yet she couldn’t stop her mind from drifting back to her father’s warnings. No one outside the Malfoys’ select circle could know the real reasons why she was in England. That had been the first and most important instruction. Katya had understood it from the beginning; she had learned to navigate that environment with subtlety, controlling every word, every gesture, to ensure nothing betrayed the operation underway. She had worked hard to earn her father’s trust, to prove she was worthy of this mission, and she couldn’t afford a mistake.

But now, confronted with Severus, Katya felt all that control, all that careful training, beginning to slowly unravel. He was there, staring at her as though he could read her every thought, as though he were about to shout at her or kiss her—whichever came first. That damned magnetism, she thought, as a whirlwind of emotions overwhelmed her. It was as though, with just one look, Severus had dismantled the façade she had worked so hard to maintain.

The silence between them stretched, tense and laden with unspoken things, as Severus tried to unravel what she was hiding. Katya, for her part, fought to keep her mind closed, aware that an untimely revelation could jeopardise the entire operation and, worse still, make her lose her father’s trust. She knew that any sign of weakness would be interpreted as failure, and if that happened, the past year of effort would have been for nothing. I can’t fail, she repeated to herself, but the only reason she might fail was standing right there in front of her.

Her only problem was Severus. Why did he have to be here? She had thought she wouldn’t see him again, that the wound would heal with time. But now, having him so close, her mind was flooded with memories. And what was even worse: she realised that, despite everything, she was still in love with him. How could she still love someone who had abandoned her? That thought tormented her but also made her vulnerable, a vulnerability she couldn’t afford at that moment—not while she was surrounded by people who could use it against her.

Katya took a deep breath, forcing herself to project a calm she didn’t feel.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” she finally said, her voice sharp, not hiding the trace of hardness she used as a shield. “Not after how you humiliated me in Vienna, Severus.”

The pain of what had happened in Vienna was still raw, and it was easier to throw that accusation at him than confess what she really felt. She had hoped that seeing him after so long would have cooled everything, but nothing could be further from the truth.

“No, you’re right,” he responded, his tone calmer than she had expected. “Frankly, I’m surprised. I didn’t think we would see each other again.”

“Yes, you’re probably used to that,” Katya accused, her voice turning cutting, though inside, an irrational fear gripped her—the fear that Severus, of all people, had forgotten her.

Severus frowned, his reaction immediate. How could she say that to him? After all the times they had spoken about it, about what it meant to feel like a pariah. He knew what it was to be rejected, as much as she did, but Katya had hit a weak spot, one he wasn’t willing to admit so easily.

“No, Katya, not at all.”

The silence between them stretched again, heavy and full of unanswered questions. Katya looked at him, but Severus felt that there was something more behind her words, something she wasn’t willing to share. As he tried to process what was happening, everything he had wanted to say to her over the past year swirled in his mind, but, as always, the words caught in his throat, unable to come out. He was trapped between confusion and desire, between the anger of being left adrift and the need to know what had really happened.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Katya said, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence, “I think I’ve had enough for one night.”

She handed him her empty glass, a cold gesture that unsettled him. She hadn’t always been like this, Severus thought, as he watched her excuse herself and walk away. The way she slid through the guests, the slight shimmer of her black dress as she disappeared through one of the Great Hall’s doors, left him with a bitter sense of loss. Something in her eyes, in that brief but intense look she had given him, stirred unease in him. She had changed. During that year, the girl he had known at the Assembly no longer seemed the same. Her eyes, which had once shown insecurity and vulnerability, now seemed sharper, more demanding, as though she had found an inner strength she had previously lacked.

As Severus remained motionless, still holding Katya’s glass, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy. He drank what remained of her drink, trying to calm the nerves their encounter had caused. But nothing could shake that feeling. He knew this wouldn’t be the last time they crossed paths. Something else was at play, something neither of them had yet admitted.

For her part, Katya left the hall with her heart racing. The encounter with Severus had left her more shaken than she cared to admit—not just because she feared he might uncover what she was doing there, but because, despite everything, despite the mission, she still felt the same for him. Her only crack in her fortress was that man she had tried to remove from her life but who, with just one look, had managed to turn her entire world upside down once again.