"The Game Begins"
The first week of classes had passed like mist over a lake—drifting, a bit hazy, half-forgotten before it even ended.
By now, the students had adjusted to the stone-cold mornings, the smell of ancient parchment, and the endless movement of staircases that seemed to conspire against punctuality. Laughter still echoed through the halls, yes, but it didn’t ring quite as loud near the Slytherin table.
There was something brewing.
At breakfast, the clinking of silverware and quiet chatter filled the Great Hall, but there was a chill to it. A silence that moved between words. The teachers hadn’t seemed to notice, or maybe they had and just pretended otherwise. That was something adults did often.
Severus sat at the edge of the table, poking at eggs he didn’t want. His eyes flicked up only once — and, as expected, Lucius Malfoy was watching him.
Lucius didn't speak.
He didn’t have to.
He was across the table, far enough that it shouldn't have mattered. But his gaze made the food taste like chalk. His fingers drummed lightly against his goblet, rhythmically, like counting seconds.
Thud, thud, thud.
Narcissa sat to Lucius’s right, posture perfect, hands folded on her lap. She hadn’t spoken a word either. Not to Mei, not to Severus, not even to Lucius. Her silence was sharper than anyone else's speech. Her eyes moved slowly, coldly, watching the table like a chessboard. Mei sat a few seats down, pretending to be fascinated by a flyer for the Dueling Club that had appeared at breakfast. Her jaw was tight, hands wrinkling the edge of the parchment.
Across the Hall at the Gryffindor table, Lily was mid-sentence when she stopped cold.
Severus had gotten up. Not unusual.
Lucius had too. That was.
She followed their movements with narrowed eyes, sausage forgotten on her plate. James, beside her, raised a brow. “What’s up with them?”
Lily didn’t answer.
Severus followed Lucius without question, as if he didn’t realize he was doing it. He only blinked when they were halfway down the long Defense hallway, one often quiet in the early mornings. No students around. No portraits awake.
Lucius stopped near the corner alcove, where light filtered through a narrow, dust-glazed window. He turned, and for a second—just a second—his smile was almost kind. Almost.
“You’ve been keeping to yourself,” Lucius said, softly. Too softly.
Severus shifted. “I’ve been busy.”
“Busy being wasted by the wrong company,” Lucius murmured, stepping closer. “You’re clever. Focused. You’ll be powerful one day, if you let the right people teach you.”
“I didn’t ask—”
“You didn’t have to,” Lucius cut in. “I see it. I see you. The others? They don’t. Lily’s sweet, yes, but naïve. She’ll hold you back.”
Severus’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “You don’t know her.”
Lucius smiled like he knew everything.
“I know enough. And I know what it feels like to be underestimated.”
He reached out and brushed a speck of dust off Severus’s robe collar. His hand lingered.
Severus flinched.
Lucius’s eyes darkened, but he said nothing. “Think about it. You don’t have to answer now.”
When Severus returned to the Great Hall, his face was blank.
Lily saw it instantly.
“What did he say to you?” she asked sharply.
“Nothing.” His voice was too flat. “I’m fine.”
Lily leaned forward. “Sev, come on.”
“I said I’m fine.”
He walked past her. Didn’t look back.
Mei watched from the Slytherin table, her spoon frozen in midair.
Later that evening, the castle was quieter. Most students had drifted into common rooms or out to the lake. Mei found Narcissa in the library, third row from the back, sitting beneath the high windows where the light was gold and bleeding.
“You said you’d keep him in check,” Mei said, approaching her with none of the usual softness in her voice. “You promised.”
Narcissa turned the page of a book she wasn’t reading. “I remember.”
“Well?” Mei hissed. “He cornered Severus today. Alone.”
Narcissa’s eyes lifted. “Did he touch him?”
Mei’s fists clenched. “Why does that matter?”
“Because that’s when it starts. And once it starts, it doesn’t stop.”
Mei was silent for a second. “So stop it before it does.”
“I can’t,” Narcissa said quietly. “Not yet.”
“That’s not good enough,” Mei snapped. “You’re letting him twist them. James is next. You know he is.”
“I’m handling it,” Narcissa said, not meeting her eyes.
“No. You’re surviving it.”
The words hung heavy.
Elsewhere, Sirius had dragged James to the edge of the Forbidden Forest under the pretense of looking for bowtruckles. In reality, it was because James had been acting off all day—glancing toward the Slytherin table too often. Laughing a second too late. He said he was fine, but Sirius could smell a lie faster than Filch’s cat.
“Why were you looking at Malfoy like that?” Sirius asked suddenly.
James blinked. “What?”
“You heard me.”
James shrugged. “He said I had potential. That I’m not like other Gryffindors.”
Sirius stared at him. “You know what he is.”
“Yeah, but…” James looked away. “He’s…cool.”
“No, he’s dangerous.”
James smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Dangerous is kind of cool though, right?”
Sirius shoved his shoulder. “Don’t be stupid. He’ll eat you alive.”
James laughed, but Sirius saw the confusion behind it.
Meanwhile, Lily sat alone in the Astronomy Tower. Her wand glowed faintly beside her as she scrawled notes into her diary. But she couldn’t focus. Her mind kept drifting to Severus, to Lucius, to the way Narcissa looked like she was carved from glass, ready to crack.
Something was wrong.
She could feel it.