trapped
9 November 1996
Euphemia's POV
Harry had to stay in the hospital for the rest of the weekend. I sprained my wrist in my attempt to catch him but beyond that, I came away in better shape than my brother. There's something he isn't telling me but I won't pry, not yet at least. Saturday's match shook us both up pretty badly. Watching Harry tumbling out of the sky may be the most terrified I've been since I was little. The sight has been plaguing my nightmares the last few nights, mixing with the old dreams of Voldemort and Sirius Black and the Dursleys. I slept so poorly last night that I am basically running on coffee.
"Alright, that's all for today. Reminder that your essay on your chosen creature are due on Thursday," Professor Lupin announces, pulling me out of my thoughts and back to reality. Quickly, I begin packing up my notes and textbook sloppier than I normally would in my daze.
"Phe, let me get that for you," Fred says from my shoulder, reaching out for my bag. I shake my head, not interested in being coddled. I only sprained my wrist and I can carry my own bag. "S'alright, Freddie. I have to talk to Lupin. I'll meet you in History of Magic, okay?" Fred nods, leaving the classroom with the rest of my friends as I walk towards Lupin's desk. "Professor, might I have a word?"
Lupin turns, eyebrows raised at me in concern. "Certainly, are you well? I spoke to Harry earlier today about the match this weekend."
"I'm fine. That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I was doing some reading yesterday, on dementors, and I found a charm to repel them. The Patronus Charm."
"Yes," Lupin says slowly, leaning back against his desk. Sunlight streams through the windows at an angle, a beam cutting through the air between us, looking like a golden veil was hung between me and the professor.
"Can you teach it to me? And Harry?"
"Euphemia.." Lupin starts but I cut him off.
"We can't go on without some way to defend ourselves. We were lucky this time but we might not be again. From what I've read this charm is the only defense against them. We have to learn it," I speak quickly, nerves causing my hands to shake slightly at my sides. "Please."
Lupin considers me for a long moment, before standing straight up with a weary sigh. "It is well beyond the Ordinary Wizarding Levels..."
"I can handle it," I say quickly, causing Lupin's lips to twitch into a sad smile.
"You looked very much like your mother when you said that. She was always at the top of our class, intelligent beyond her years. I suppose... if anyone could master the Patronus at such young ages it would be the children of James and Lily." Lupin studies me sadly, a flicker of pride lingering in his eyes.
"So you'll do it?"
"Yes, I can try. I do not claim to be an expert at fighting dementors and it will have to wait until next term. I'm afraid I've chosen a busy time to fall ill." Lupin says, turning to look at the papers stacked on his desk.
"That's fine, thank you, sir. Thank you very much," I say earnestly, smiling at him through the golden veil of sunlight. He nods slowly and I turn, leaving the class much more hopeful than when I entered it.
10 November 1996
Riddle and I stroll down the halls, walking our usual route through the castle in a slightly tense silence. Really, slightly tense is about as close to comfortable as we can get. We are near the end of our rounds, when a huge crash echoes through the hall causing both of us to jump.
"The hell was that?" I ask, turning around searching for the source of the crash.
"Dunno" Mattheo says, his eyes narrowed. Another crash sounds to our left, from a broom cupboard. I step towards it but Mattheo reaches out, grabbing me by the arm. Startled, I yank my arm back hard but Riddle's grip is harder and we stumble, my back hitting the wall as he collides with me, his hand reaching out to brace himself on the wall over my head. For a moment, we stand there completely still, stunned at the position we find ourselves in. I can't help but notice the faint scent of his cologne, the dark brown of his eyes were amusement dances as he stares down at me, a small grin on his lips.
"Get off me!" I say angrily, snapping out of the moment, trying to push Riddle away.
"Did you stop to think that you might not want to burst into whatever is happening in the closet, princess?" Riddle says, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "I know I'm only ever in broom closets for one thing."
"Please spare me the details of your favorite conquests. It's past curfew. What are we here for if not to catch people not in the dorms?" I respond sharply, refusing to admit that, no, I had not considered that possibility.
"Your funeral," Riddle shrugs as he loosens his grip enough for me to shove him off. He stumbles back a few steps, a crooked and cocky grin growing on his face as he chuckles slightly.
I step towards the door carefully and knock causing Riddle to snort a laugh behind me. The sounds stop from inside the closet and I roll my eyes, pulling open the door. As I do something sweeps out over me and before I know it, I am stumbling forward from a force at my back. I stumble forward, catching myself on the back wall of the closet, and Riddle tumbles in after me before the door slams shut. I hear a cackling from the other side of the door as Peeves compliments himself and the rattle of the doorknob as Riddle tries and fails to open the door. No, no, no, please.
Mattheo's POV
I quickly turn back to the door, throwing my weight against the wood. "PEEVES! Let us out!" I bellow, trying to get the door open. Peeves just continues cackling as his voice gets quieter and quieter, presumably as he floats leisurely down the corridor, immensely pleased with himself. I bang one last time against the door, groaning in frustration before turning around and reaching in my pocket for my wand. "Lumos," I murmur and a soft light blooms from the tip of my wand. "Alohomora!" I say and try to open the door to no avail and kick the door once more for good measure. "Fuck."
**
I sigh and turn back to face Potter, leaning against the door. Now that there is light in the room, I notice her pressed up against the back wall, her breath shallow and uneven. "What's the matter with you?" I ask, raising my eyebrow.
"Shut up," she mumbles, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the wall. Her chest heaves with each uneasy breath, her hands pressed tightly up against the wall, her heart beating so hard and rapidly I can see her pulse in her neck.
"Potter, what is happening? We'll get out eventually, everything's fine. No need to panic."
"Mattheo! Shut up!" She yells suddenly, her eyes wide and fear filled.
I stand there stunned for a moment, watching Euphemia Potter try to control her breathing and she slides down the wall till she's sitting, her knees pulled up to her chest. She's never called me by my first name before and she's certainly never lost her cool in front of me. No matter how hard I've pushed she has always maintained her cool, any anger or hatred might bubble on the surface but still always under her control. Her breathing is steadily getting quicker and quicker as she places her hand over her chest, rubbing roughly against her uniform sweater. Panic attack. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks and I sink down to my knees and reach out towards her but she recoils away from my touch.
"It's okay, Euphemia. Just try and focus on my voice, okay? You're safe, you're gonna be okay. Try and breathe with me, okay?" I sit against the door, trying to give her as much space as possible, and breathe deeply, exaggerating my movements so she can follow better. I'm not sure how long we sit here, me breathing deeply as she tries to match me. Slowly, her breathing slows and the fear in her eyes melts, no longer wild with panic and fear.
Eventually, her breathing slows to near normal and she drops her knees to sit criss cross, her thumb and forefinger playing her ring. "Thank you," she whispers so quietly I almost miss it. "I just really don't like tight spaces."
"Yeah, I kinda put those pieces together myself," I say although I immediately regret responding with a quip. "Sorry."
"No, actually you being irritating is helping. Distracting," she huffs a small laugh. "I don't think I've ever heard you apologize," she adds after a moment.
"Hm, I don't do it often. I'm so very rarely wrong," I grumble, still watching Euphemia closely as she scoffs, shaking her head slightly. "If we're talking firsts, I've never heard you call me Mattheo before."
"Well you wouldn't shut up," she quips, shrugging as she studies me for a moment.
"I thought you said me talking was helping."
"Now, not before," she corrects. "Did you try Alohomora?" I nod and she sighs, her face screwing up in concentration as she tries to think of another solution.
We sit in silence for a long moment and I watch her. The way she bites her lip as she thinks, her green eyes bright even in the dim light, and her hands fidget with her ring, the pale stone catching the light every so often, the lighting scar on her left hand shining white as its illuminated by the light from my wand, her hair messier than it was in the hallway, more pieces falling around her face, softening her features. I think back to that first night we did rounds together, where she flinched at my raised hand, and I realize, possibly for the first time, that maybe her life isn't as perfect as I always thought it was...
She suddenly takes a deep breath, leaning back against the wall with her eyes closed. "You alright?" She nods slowly, her fingers spinning her ring quickly. "Someone will find us eventually," I assure her. I want to say more, ask who hurt her so badly she flinches at a raised hand and panics in small spaces, and honestly, I'm surprised at my own interest. Violence and abuse is nothing new to me. I have a record longer than my arm of all the fist fights I've gotten into in the last 5 years alone and most of the people I know and grew up with have been punished by their parents physically in one way or another. But something about watching Euphemia Potter curled in on herself makes me want to find whoever did this to her and hurt them so badly they never lay a hand on anyone else ever again.
"My aunt and uncle... when I made them mad, which was pretty often... as I'm not really obedient by nature," she chuckles softly, "... they had this small cupboard under the staircase... they'd put us in there. Added a lock to the outside so we couldn't get out..." She speaks quietly and slowly, making sure to keep her breath measured and deep, her voice shaking slightly.
"Merlin... that's terrible," I say eventually, surprised she's willing to admit this to me. I clench my fists, trying to control the rise of anger in my chest. Why do I care all of a sudden? She shrugs slightly, pulling her knees back up to her chest. "I don't think I ever knew who you lived with 'til now... did you ever report anything to the Ministry?"
"They're Muggles. Ministry of Magic doesn't care about Muggles," she says simply, her eyes meeting mine for the first time.
"I thought the Potter family was a pureblood fam-"
"Mum was Muggleborn. Her sister, my aunt, hated her for being a witch."
"There wasn't anyone else? Any one better?" I ask, truthfully bewildered that the golden children, the saviors of the wizarding world, have absolutely no one else to turn to. She just shrugs and shakes her head. "I'm sorry."
"Two apologies in less than an hour? Who are you and what have you done to Mattheo Riddle?" She asks, her eyes narrowed mischievously. Her fingers still dance around her ring but the worst of the panic seems to have faded, or she's adept at hiding it.
**
"I'm not completely unsympathetic," I say, "Besides, it wouldn't be fair to kick you while you're down," I add as an afterthought.
"Like that's ever stopped you before. I've seen you beat people unconscious and keep going," she challenges, but I don't see judgment in her eyes like I normally do, but rather a cool interest. Like I am a problem she can't figure out how to solve.
"Maybe they deserved it," I say and I begin to feel uncomfortable under her watchful gaze. Her green eyes seem to pierce through my skin, through the armor of indifference I've spent years building around myself and I find I'm feeling vulnerable and exposed.
"So, any ideas how we get out of here, princess?" I ask, ducking my gaze away from hers, suddenly itching to get away from this closet where so many vulnerabilities have been laid bare.
"Fred and George will figure it out eventually," she says confidently. I raise my eyebrow.
"Uh, what makes you think that? I didn't think the Weasley twins were the brightest of the ginger bunch."
"Oi, we were having a not-so-terrible moment, don't ruin it by making fun of my friends," she says defensively and I raise my hands in surrender. "At least one of them always stays up until I come back to the common room after rounds and when I don't show up, well, let's just say they have a way to find me."
"Okay...Two questions: Why and how?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
"The why is that George and Freddie are protective and they don't trust you. The how is a secret," she says simply, running her fingers through her hair, my eyes following the movement.
I avert my eyes and look down at my watch. "Well we should've been done about a half hour ago so I hope they catch up soon. I think this is now officially the most time we've spent together in one sitting, princess."
"And we haven't killed each other yet. We must be growing up," she quips sarcastically, making us both laugh. They are genuine laughs and for a moment, I think hers is the best thing I've ever heard.
Another 10 or so minutes pass, and we sit there across from each other, sometimes chatting and sometimes sitting in an easy silence. It is the most enjoyable time that I have ever spent with Euphemia Potter, panic attack aside.
"Mia!" A voice calls distantly and Euphemia jumps up, stumbling over me to reach the door, kicking my knee slightly and I grunt.
"Fred! George!" She calls back frantically, banging on the door of the closet. I breathe a sigh of relief, sitting on the stone floor was getting painful and I was starting to think Potter placed too much faith in the Twins; I push myself up to stand behind her.
There is some shuffling and talking on the other side and soon, the door opens, dim light flooding in from the darkened corridor, to reveal the Weasley Twins on the other side, wearing matching panicked expressions. As soon as the door is opened, Mia stumbles out and into one of the Twins arms, causing the pair to stumble back and allowing me to step out of the broom closet. Before I have fully stepped into the corridor, the twin not holding Mia grabs me by the collar and slams me against the wall, the back of my head connecting with the rough stone wall.
"What the hell did you do to her?!" He yells at me. On instinct I swing my fist up, connecting with his jaw and shove him off me.
"Fred!" Mia gasps, and tries to step forward but George holds her back. Fred stands upright, anger in his eyes as he takes a swing for me. I duck his first swing but he lands a second in my gut, knocking the wind out of me and before I can recover I'm back to being pressed up against the wall with Fred's snarling face inches from mine. "How dare you touch her, you piece of shit!"
"I didn't do shit, Weasley!" I snarl back, grappling with him roughly. Both the Twins have a few inches on me but I've been in more fights this term than they have their whole lives. I take another swing but Fred is ready this time and ducks, causing me to graze his shoulder, and he retaliates with a punch to my mouth.
"It wasn't his fault! FRED STOP!" Mia shouts, louder than I thought possible for her. Fred stops for a moment, looking at the girl.
"Yeah right," scoffs Fred, keeping me pinned to the wall.
"I didn't do shit!" I spit, a little blood mixing with my saliva.
"I didn't ask you, Riddle."
"It was Peeves! He shoved us and locked us in somehow. It wasn't Mattheo's fault!" Potter says, breaking out of George's hold. She steps towards us and manages to get Fred to release his grip of me and pushes him back. At her touch, Fred visibly relaxes, his eyes quickly scanning Euphemia and, seeing no signs of any hurt, steps back further and my gut twists.
"I told you I-"
"And what, may I ask, is happening here?" We all turn towards the voice, startled out of the stand off to see Professor Lupin standing at the end of the hall, his eyes scanning the four of us, the blood on my lip, and raises his eyes.
"Apologies, Professor. Riddle and I got locked in this closet by Peeves. Fred and George just came to get us out," Euphemia supplies easily, removing her hands from Fred. Lupin watches Euphemia standing between Fred and I, George behind us and raises an eyebrow.
"And?"
"I was blamed for no reason" I grumble, glaring at Fred.
"And how, might I ask, did Mr. and Mr. Weasley know where to find you?" Lupin asks, seeming suspicious.
"Hm, I'd like to know that as well," I say, looking at Fred. The Twins exchange a glance, the kind of mind reading look that twins are famous for, but before they come up with a story, Euphemia speaks up.
"They know what parts of the castle are Riddle's and my responsibility. When I didn't come back when I normally do, they got worried."
"Yeah, we walked around until we heard Mia yelling, sir," George adds, sticking his hands in his pockets and shrugging his shoulders.
"Hm" Lupin sighs, eyeing the trio and then me, "Well then, that was very chivalrous of the two of you. However, you are out past curfew and fighting. Five points from Gryffindor each for breaking curfew and another 5 for fighting for both Mr. Weasley and Mr. Riddle," Lupin declares simply. "Is everyone alright? I can escort you to the hospital wing if needed."
"No," I grumble at the same time Fred and George say, "No, sir."
"Thank you, professor. We'll go right back to the dorms," Potter adds to which Lupin nods.
"Yes, please. See that you do. Goodnight," Lupin says, turning and walking back the way he came slowly.
"C'mon, guys," Euphemia says quietly, tugging on Fred's arm. Fred spares me one last glare, which I match, before turning away. Potter hesitates for a moment, turning back to me with a soft smile. "Thank you." I nod in acknowledgement and watch for a moment as the trio turns away, Fred's arm around Euphemia's shoulders, and that strange twist in my gut returns.