allies
Her burned fingers held the end of her dress, fiddling with the fabric nervously. She bit her lip to the point of making it bleed, observing everything with eyes filled with immense curiosity.
She looked down at the pads of her pale fingers, turning her hand to get a better look at the burns. They had been caused by an accident with a cauldron.
Harriet had discovered her fascination with potions —or rather watching how Mr. Snape made them— and in an oversight on both of them —Mr. Snape had asked her to pass him the cauldron after a long time without using it— Harriet had grabbed the hot cauldron.
They were healing, little by little, but they did it.
“Stop that,” Mr. Snape said. “You are going to hurt yourself.”
Wasn't she already?
“Sorry, sir.”
Harriet stopped.
Mr. Snape noticed the blood on her lips, getting down on his knees. He took out an elegant dark cloth with green embroidery. In one swift motion, he wiped away the blood. “There.” He stood up, watching her.
“Do you feel ready to get in?”
“I think so,” Harriet mumbled. “Do you think they are going to be mean?”
She winced when her fingertips touched the rough fabric of Mr. Snape's cloak, but did not let go. They walked, watching the Malfoy Manor in front of them.
“If they are, you tell me. It is not proper to be… cruel with future allies.”
“Is that all they see?” Harriet asked. “Allies?”
“Is what their parents teach them.”
Draco wasn't her friend? Did he also see her as an ally?
Mr. Snape noticed her despondent expression, but he did not say anything.
They entered the Manor in silence. Harriet just couldn't stop thinking about what he said.
All of them saw that in her? Draco, Mrs. Malfoy, even him?
A sudden urge to cry filled her, but she refused to give in, so she masked it up, looking up to find Mr. Malfoy, or who Harriet thought was Mr. Malfoy.
“Hello there,” he mused, looking at her then at Mr. Snape. “Severus, my old friend, how pleasant to see you. This is Miss Potter, I suppose.”
“Lucius,” Mr. Snape greeted. “Yes, this is Miss Potter.”
Mr. Malfoy rose to his knees, meeting her eyes. However, his eyes immediately went to the scar on her face. The scar that, Mr. Snape had explained, the Dark Lord had left on her.
Harriet let his eyes sweep over her for a few seconds before speaking. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Malfoy.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, scanning the scar once more before looking into her eyes. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Potter. Draco is waiting for you in the living room, let's come in.”
She clung to Mr. Snape's sleeve once more, deciding to forget that he was the cause of her sadness. Together they walked to the living room, where Mrs. Malfoy was accompanied by Mrs. Zabini and Mr. Regulus —how come she still didn't know his last name? Harriet decided that today she would ask him—. She quickly found Draco, who raised his hand with a big smile at the sight of her. He was surrounded by children. Future allies, as Mr. Snape called them.
Harriet was one of them, even if she wanted to be more than an ally.
The two women approached her, with Regulus following behind them. They both smiled at her, approving of her dress and hairstyle.
She was wearing a white silk chiffon shirt —the chest had a very particular detail, and something similar to the wings of a butterfly stood out in that part—, the sleeves ended at the tips of her fingers with beautiful ruffles. Above it, she had a flat black dress that ended above her knees, clothed in white stockings. She was wearing the usual Mary Janes, polished thanks to Mr. Snape.
Her hair, however, was another story. The books that Mrs. Malfoy had given her said that no person other than her, her mother and close female friends should touch her hair —Harriet didn't have a mother, could she ask Mrs. Malfoy to do it?—. So she had had to make do with the book Mrs. Zabini had sent her: Harriet had turned out to be a natural at braiding.
She styled her black curls into tight, crown-shaped braids, unfortunately leaving her scar exposed.
“Don't you look just beautiful, my dear?”
Mrs. Malfoy compliment made her go all red. “Thank you, ma'am. I must say you look perfect. You too, Mrs. Zabini.”
And they did. Even if it was casual, they were dressed up.
Harriet wished that she was like that too in a future. Looking perfect like them, being happy too.
“Sir,” she greeted. Mr. Regulus smiled at her. He looked perfect, too.
“Good day, Ms. Potter.”
“Go with the children, sweetling,” interrupted Narcissa before she could speak. Nevertheless, Harriet nodded with a small smile.
Three boys —Draco being one of them. Because of the immense resemblance to Mrs. Zabini, she recognized Blaise, with Theodore being the last one— and two girls —whom she did not recognize even by the thousandth chance. Harriet felt her throat dry as she walked with the elegance —or she hoped she looked elegant— that she had seen in Mrs. Malfoy.
Mrs. Zabini was more flirtatious, without worrying about maintaining a good reputation for elegance. Not that she needed it, either. Everything about her screamed finesse.
“Harriet! Just in time,” Draco jumped, smiling fully at her. He kissed her hand, as a little knight, and turned towards the rest. “This is Miss Harriet Potter. Harriet, this is Blaise.”
“A pleasure.” He was dark skinned, with chocolate eyes and a big, pretentious smile. Dressed in very elegant black clothes. His fingers had many golden rings.
He stood up, taller than Harriet, and kissed her hand just like Draco had. Then, he sat again.
“This,” Draco turned her just a bit, “is Theo.”
“Hello.” He was, what Harriet could simply describe, as beautiful as the moon. Brown hair, blue eyes, bushy eyebrows, and immense seriousness.
He also stood up, taking her hand much more delicately, and making almost a bow, he gently kissed her knuckles.
Harriet could have fainted right there.
“This is Pansy,” Draco made her walk towards the two girls, who analysed her with satisfied smiles.
“Love the hair,” she complimented, bringing her cheeks closer to hers, almost as if she were going to plant a kiss on each one, but only grazing. “Did you do it yourself?”
“Don't ask stupid questions, Pansy. Of course she did,” Daphne scolded, repeating the same movement as Pansy. She looked at her much softer, but Harriet couldn't help but feel intimidated by the strength of her gaze, as if she wanted to analyse every last piece of her soul.
“Mrs. Zabini gave me a book on hairstyles,” Harriet said.
She avoided mentioning that she didn't think any of them needed it. Daphne was wearing a beautiful, delicate blue dress, her blonde hair was down —which surprised her: her books said something not very good about wearing her hair down. Although Mrs. Zabini used to wear it like that too— but she had braids that formed a rose. Pansy was wearing a very dark green dress, and she had straight bangs and short hair —the women in her family perhaps didn't have magic in her hair— with a raven colour very similar to Harriet's.
“What happened to your fingers?” Blaise asked, pointing to Harriet's fingertips.
“Oh, I got burned helping Mr. Snape with a cauldron.”
It didn't take them long to sit in a circle. Draco was in the corner closest to Harriet, and Theo was in the middle of him and Blaise, who had a pose that was not at all formal. He was sitting in one of the corners too, Daphne next to him, and Pansy next to Harriet.
“You are his protégé, right?” Daphne asked curiously. Harriet nodded. “What is it like living with him?”
“My cousin, Perseus II, said that he is a very strict professor.”
Harriet regarded Pansy with hidden surprise for a few seconds. She didn't know that Mr. Snape was a professor, but if she thought about it, he had the image of a strict professor. However, she recovered quickly.
“It's nothing bad,” she assured them. “He lets me have a cat that comes and goes. I help him with the plants, and he teaches me about potions.”
“It doesn't sound bad at all,” Pansy agreed. “I'll tell my mother that Perseus is an exaggerator then.”
Harriet folded her injured hands in her lap, and Blaise watched them for a long moment. He had heard something or other about her from her mother, and perhaps he had snooped a little through her paper with her information. No bad intentions, of course, just mere curiosity.
His hatred for Muggles had only increased, of course.
She didn't look like a child with horrendous tantrums, or even an unbearable one. She was somewhat quiet, yes, but she responded every time she was spoken to. Blaise also couldn't help but glance at the white scar on her forehead: Harriet met his gaze just once, smiled softly, and turned to Daphne to answer her question.
And seeing her shy smile, the bloody skin around her nails, and her almost elegant bearing, Blaise decided that nothing else would happen to that girl.
Nothing would happen to Harriet Potter, because Harriet Potter would now be another friend. His friend.
Severus tucked Harriet in, watching her eyes droop tiredly. It had been a long and, probably, fun day for the girl, who had talked up a storm with the group of children, playing everything they proposed to her.
He, however, hadn't had as much fun. It had been a tense meeting. The women had noticed that Severus already knew, and that he was completely mad at them for not telling him anything. Lucius had remained completely silent except to distract Severus along with Regulus' help distracting the women.
They had dinner at home, with the black cat's company again. After dinner and dessert, Harriet had taken a shower, so she was completely defeated.
He had to admit that tucking the girl in felt like a relaxation of the weight on his shoulders. Like a father, Regulus's voice returned to him, but Severus clicked his tongue in complete disagreement.
The girl opened her eyes at the sound, watching him for a few seconds. Severus stood up from her, looking at her. “Good night, Harriet.”
“Mr. Snape?”
“What's wrong, girl?”
She didn't wince at the nickname as usual, probably because of how asleep she was, but Severus mentally scolded himself. He couldn't use nicknames that the Dursleys had used on her.
It was inhuman, and Severus refused to be like them, or worse, like his own father.
“I'm just an ally of yours?”
“… What?”
“Today. You told me that people were only looking for allies,” the girl yawned. “Am I just an ally?”
And he had to take care of his words too.
It was obvious that the smallest things marked the girl terribly. The cat's eyes followed him accusingly.
Severus let out a sigh, leaning closer. “No, Harriet. I don’t think you’re just an ally.”
She let out a small sigh as well, more relieved. “And Draco is my friend?”
“Of course he is,” he agreed. Unconsciously, his hand came up and brushed her hair away from her face. “Now sleep, Harriet.”
“Good night, dad,” she murmured, already fast asleep.