Star Sisters

Chapter X: The Unbearable Beast of Burden

Charis was lurking in the shadows outside the hospital wing. She had, for the very first time in her life, disobeyed a direct order from a superior and felt terrible because of it. But what choice had she had, really? She knew that Dumbledore had meant well when he had sent her to bed. But how was she supposed to sleep when her best friend was fighting for her life?

Once more, Charis got up on her toes and peered through the little window in the door. One of the beds in the ward was shielded off by curtains, and she was certain that this was the bed where Morgana was lying. But she could not see anything. The light was dimmed, and Poppy seemed to have retired for the night. Did that mean that Morgana was well enough to be left alone? Or did it mean that there was no hope?

Charis felt tears well up in her eyes, and clamped her hand on her mouth. No, no, she shouldn’t have such thoughts. Snape had said that Morgana was unconscious. Surely he would have mentioned if she was dying.

‘Please, God, let Morgana be alright,’ Charis whispered. She did not believe in God. But her mother did, and Charis had visited church every Sunday when she had been a child. And now, when she felt desperate and alone, she was willing to send a prayer to just about any deity.

‘This is the second evening in a row that I find you roaming the corridors after curfew, Miss Byrne. Your rule breaking is becoming rather tiresome.’

Charis span around at the sound of Snape’s voice. She had not heard him approach, but there he was, standing right in front of her, his black eyes boring into her skull. Instinctively, she tried to back away from him, but there was nowhere to go; her back was already against the entrance door of the hospital. Her heart was beating so hard and fast that she was convinced that Snape must hear it, and she felt embarrassed. Embarrassed and scared.

When he extended his hand, Charis cringed. She did not want him to touch her. Not now. But to her surprise, he was pushing open the door she was leaning against.

‘Come on, Miss Byrne,’ he said in a hushed voice. ‘Let us go inside. But be quiet. Madam Pomfrey will certainly throw us out if she hears us.’

The pale moonlight cast eerie shadows and made Morgana’s face look even paler. In fact, Charis had never seen anyone look so pale.

‘She will be okay, won’t she, sir?’ She did not expect any comfort from the Potions master, but he was the only one around, the only one she could ask.

‘Miss Belakane has been given several doses of Blood Replenishing Potion, and the nurse has healed her cuts,’ Snape explained. ‘There is no reason why she should not make a complete recovery.’

Once more, Charis felt her eyes fill with tears. ‘I still cannot believe she would do that to herself. It’s not like her, not at all. Maybe ... maybe this is my fault.’

‘Miss Byrne, get a grip on yourself. This was not your fault. And stop crying.’

Snape’s harsh tone made Charis turn her head away. Why did he have to be like that? Why could he not – just for once – be kind and show that he wasn’t the hairy-hearted wizard everyone made him out to be? The tears were now rolling down Charis’ cheeks, and she bit her lips to stifle the sobs.

‘I mean it, Miss Byrne,’ Snape hissed. ‘If you do not stop crying this instant, Madam Pomfrey will hear. And I have no desire to be told off tonight.’

The picture of the sinister Potions master being told off by Poppy made Charis smile, and she wiped off her tears and sat down on the chair that Snape pushed towards her.

‘What happened tonight was not your fault, Miss Byrne,’ he went on, his voice suddenly much softer. ‘Nor was it Miss Belakane’s.’

He sat down on a chair on the opposite side of the bed, and Charis risked a glance in his direction. He looked just as pale as Morgana, and there were dark shadows under his eyes. And Charis wondered if he had slept anything at all last night.

She looked from Snape to her friend, and suddenly, the tears were streaming down her face again. And there was nothing she could do to stop them.

‘Miss Byrne, seriously ...’

‘I nearly saw my best friend killed tonight, sir.’ How dare he tell her to stop crying? Did he really have no heart? Did this whole affair really leave him untouched? ‘I know that she is in danger, and there is nothing I can do to help her. I am scared of losing her.’

There, she had said it. She had admitted her fear to him, and now he could do whatever he wanted with that information. Surely, he would ridicule her now. But Charis did not care.

To her surprise, Snape leant slightly forward on his chair and looked at her. ‘Actually, Miss Byrne, there is something you can do. Tell me, those necklaces you and Miss Belakane are wearing, how do they work?’

‘I ... I charmed them to glow when one of us wants to contact the other,’ Charis started, surprised that Snape was showing any interest in their jewellery and that he had noticed the necklaces at all. ‘We hold on to our necklace and think of the other, and then their star glows. Like this.’

She closed her hand around her star and concentrated on her friend. Morgana, she thought. Sweetie, can you hear me?

Promptly, the star at Morgana’s neck started to glow blue.

Snape nodded, quietly impressed. The charm was a form of Trace, similar in fact to the very Trace he bore on his own arm. Trace charms were very advanced magic, and the Dark Lord’s own spell was extremely complex. That a seventh-year Ravenclaw could create a basic Trace charm showed that she did indeed deserve her O in Charms.

‘Miss Byrne, I would like to borrow your necklace for a while. The Headmaster thinks it prudent to observe your friend for a while.’

Charis frowned. ‘And how will my necklace do that, sir?’

‘The charm will have to be changed slightly,’ Snape explained. ‘Instead of barely being able to contact Miss Belakane, the bearer of your necklace will know where she is at any time.’

‘Why would you have to know where Morgana is, sir?’

Snape sighed. ‘The Headmaster and I have reason to believe that Miss Belakane might soon try to get to Malfoy Manor. In case she does, we will want to know.’

Charis shook her head. ‘Why would she go to Malfoy Manor? Sir, why is Morgana all of a sudden smitten by Lucius Malfoy? Everyone knows what kind of man he is. He is foul, dangerous ...’

‘He is also one of the most influential wizards in the country, Miss Byrne,’ Snape interrupted her. ‘And he has charmed witches both smarter and more sophisticated than your friend here. It is not her fault.’

He got up and waved his wand at the nearest bed. Soundlessly, it glided over the floor and came to a halt beside Morgana’s.

‘I assume that you will want to spend the night here. Am I correct, Miss Byrne?’

Charis nodded. Most certainly, she did.

‘Then I want you to lie down and get some sleep,’ Snape went on. ‘I shall wake you in the event that Miss Belakane regains consciousness.’

Charis looked up at him with big eyes. ‘You ... you are staying, sir?’

‘A student of my House has seriously injured herself tonight, and I do not know the reason for it. Do you really think that I am going to let her out of my sight?’

‘No, sir.’ Of course he would not. As Morgana had said the day before: Severus Snape did always look out for his students.

Charis took off her shoes, slipped under the cover and closed her eyes. But she could not sleep. Her mind was in turmoil and so was her heart. And she felt guilty that the main reason for it wasn’t Morgana.

She cautiously opened her eyes. Snape wasn’t sitting on his chair anymore. He was standing by the window, back straight, arms crossed in front of his chest, his brow furrowed. He looked worried, troubled even. And Charis couldn’t help but wonder if there were anything else other than Morgana on his mind.

She wished he would say something, anything. He and her, they had almost ... Charis squeezed her eyes shut and willed her heartbeat to slow down. She had seen pure lust in his eyes earlier that night, and it had rendered her defenceless. Against her better judgement, she had let him touch her in the most intimate way. Despite the appalling way he had treated her during detention two days ago, she had let him touch her, because she had mistakenly believed he desired her. And had he asked her to, she would have let him do even more. And then her necklace had started to glow, and he had let go of her as if burnt, and the look of lust she had seen in his eyes had been replace by a look of terror.

Of course he had, without delay, sprung to Morgana’s aid. Of course his main concern was about her now. Charis would not have expected any less of him. But still, the way he was treating her now hurt her deeply. It was almost as if he was disgusted by her, as if he hated her.

‘Your kind should not be down here,’ he had said to her as she had tried to follow him into the Slytherin common room. Your kind! So that was what it was all about. The Head of Slytherin House was just like the rest of them. He could just as well have called her Mudblood.

Charis pulled the blanket over her head and started to weep softly into her pillow, desperately hoping that Snape would not hear her.

But Snape did hear her. His sense of hearing had always been very keen. And he had also noticed that the girl had been staring at him for a good five minutes.

He wasn’t the stonehearted monster his students made him out to be, and he did not enjoy Charis’ tears. In fact, they troubled him deeply. But that night, he neither had the words nor the energy to console her. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk to her or could even look at her again without feeling a pang of guilt.

None of this should have happened. He should not have approached her. He should not have touched her. And he most certainly should not have lusted for her. But he had lost control that night. He had let his lust and the ghosts of his past lure him into a trap from which he did not know how to escape. He had projected his desires onto the girl with the green eyes, a helpless little girl of whom he knew that she would do anything for him because she had a crush on him. He had used her, and he hated himself for it. She was his student! She trusted him because he was her teacher. How could he have betrayed her in such a way? How could he have let her down?

This seemed to be the theme of the evening, letting people down. He had let Morgana down as well. He had known that she was in danger, and still he had let his libido distract him long enough for her to have the time to hurt herself. What if the Slytherin girls hadn’t found her? What if she hadn’t had the presence of mind to grab her necklace when she had noticed that she was losing control? She would have slowly bled to death on the bathroom floor. And he would have yet another death on his conscience.

He turned from the window and let his eyes wander towards the two beds where the girls were lying. Charis’ sobbing had subsided. Hopefully, she was sound asleep. Hopefully, she was dreaming of something that made her happy. He approached Morgana’s bed and looked down at his student. Her cheeks should be rosier by now, he thought. But perhaps it was just the moonlight that made her look so terribly pale.

Charis’ necklace was lying on Morgana’s blanket, and Snape picked it up, almost sneering at the idea of having to wear it himself. If anyone knew! But if it helped to protect the girl, he would wear it. He would not let her down once more.

He rubbed his tired eyes and sighed. He had to hand it to Dumbledore, the idea of letting Morgana go to Malfoy Manor and letting Lucius believe that his scheme had been successful was brilliant. Nonetheless, it was insane. Disgusting. And he did not want to be part of it. But he had no choice. Once more, he seemed to be the only man for the job.

He sank onto his chair again and buried his face in his hands. How would he ever be able to look into Morgana’s eyes again, he wondered. When all this was over, he would have seen her naked, exposed, both physically and mentally. And she would know.

He would, of course, do what he did best. He would employ his Occlumency, make himself unapproachable and silently hope that the girl could one day forgive him. But what if she didn’t? What if she hated him for what he had to do? What if she could not understand that he was trying to save her? Would she forever look at him with that look she had had in her eyes the night before, when her mind had been possessed? She had been terrified of him, and Snape had to admit that that had hit him hard. Against common belief, he did not get pleasure from being feared and hated. Against common belief, he had a heart as well.

* * *
‘Miss Byrne.’

Charis buried her face in her pillow. The light in the room was far too bright for her to open her eyes, and it was certainly far too early to do so anyway.

‘Miss Byrne, wake up. Now.’

Charis’ eyes snapped open and locked onto Snape’s. Instinctively, she pulled the blanket up to her chin. Merlin forbid she had dreamt of him and talked in her sleep again. But this time, Snape did not smirk at her. In fact, he looked so tired that Charis wondered if he would even have the energy to do so.

‘I believe your little friend is coming around,’ he announced and inclined his head towards Morgana’s bed. ‘I thought you might want to know.’

Charis scrambled out of her bad and sank to her knees by her friend’s bedside. Morgana was indeed stirring, if only faintly.

Charis sneaked her hand into Morgana’s, and once more she felt tears burn in her eyes. ‘You gave us quite a scare last night, sweetie,’ she whispered. ‘But you’re fine now. And we are going to protect you.’

‘Miss Belakane, do you remember what happened last night?’

At Snape’s voice, Charis felt Morgana’s hand cramp around hers, and the edges of Morgana’s ring cut into her flesh. She looked up at the Head of Slytherin House, a fearful look in her eyes. But Snape just shook his head at her, and his face was stern, inscrutable.

‘Miss Belakane,’ he repeated. ‘Do you remember what happened last night?’

Charis looked up at her friend and her breath caught in her throat. Morgana’s pupils were dilated, and she looked utterly confused. And she was still holding on to Charis’ hand for dear life.

‘Sweetie,’ Charis said in a soft voice, lifting up Morgana’s arm. ‘Don’t you remember?’

Morgana’s eyes widened when she caught sight of her bandaged arm.

‘Miss Belakane,’ Snape started again. ‘Did you try to ... hurt yourself last night?’ He couldn’t make himself use the word kill. He did not want this to be a possibility. He wanted to be able to blame Lucius somehow.

‘I ... I don’t ... I can’t ...’ Morgana was still staring at her bandages, seemingly unable to understand. ‘There was something ... I felt something crawling under my skin ...’

Charis gave her friend a frightful look. Whatever was she saying? Something crawling under her skin? This didn’t make any sense at all! But when she turned to look at Snape, she found him nodding. He seemed to understand.

‘Miss Byrne, it is nine o’clock,’ Snape said in an imperative tone. ‘Transfiguration starts in twenty minutes, and I want you to be there. Preferably showered and in new robes.’

For the second time that morning, Charis felt Morgana’s grip tighten around her hand. ‘Don’t leave me alone with him,’ she heard her friend whisper.

Snape sneered. ‘There is no need to worry, Miss Belakane. I will not be staying. I have some dunderheads to teach.’

* * *
The vein at his temple was pulsating madly, and the potion he would need to cure his massive headache had not been invented yet. And the sound of students chatting and ladles scraping against cauldrons was slowly but surely driving him insane. But only when the last third-year had left his classroom did Snape unclench his fists and allow himself to sink onto a stool, secretly wondering if he would ever again have the energy to get up. He wasn’t sleeping well nowadays. How could he? There were so many things going on, and he seemed to be involved in most of them.

Firstly, there was the Dark Lord. The maniac was getting increasingly frustrated with his plans not progressing the way he wanted them to. Getting hold of the prophecy was proving to be one hell of an undertaking, and his patience was running thin. And the more impatient he grew, the more Crucios would he fire. And it was getting more and more difficult to avoid them, even for Snape.

Secondly, there was Dolores Umbridge. Apart from Filch, the woman had made herself nothing but enemies in the castle. The students loathed her, and so did the staff. And every time Snape heard her oh-so-delicate cough or saw her clipboard, he hoped that someone would hex her into oblivion. Not to mention how much those blasted Ministry decrees she seemed to issue every day made his jaw ache in frustration. His aversion against the woman had gone so far that he had not even punished the Weasley twins when he had overheard their plans about poisoning the hag.

Umbridge was even involved in the third reason for Snape’s lack of sleep. She had disbanded all student organisations just about the same time as Saint Potter and his faithful followers had decided to start practicing Defence Against the Dark Arts on their own. Dumbledore, naturally, had got wind of it and had instructed Snape to make sure Umbridge didn’t find out. So now, besides patrolling the corridors at night in order to catch any students out of bounds, Snape also had to make sure Umbridge didn’t get anywhere near the Room of Requirement, where Dumbledore’s Army was practicing, and also rein in the overzealousness of her band of obnoxious little helpers, the Inquisitorial Squad.

Fourthly, of course, there was the constant protection of Potter, and his duties to the Order. Every time he went to Headquarters to give his latest report, Black would pester him about the boy. As if it were so easy to protect that brat. He should be keeping out of the limelight in these troubled times, and yet he had already landed himself in detention with Umbridge and been banned from Quidditch. Naturally, Black would make it sound as if all of this were Snape’s fault. And Snape couldn’t help but notice that Black wasn’t the only Order member who was giving him suspicious looks. He tried to convince himself that he did not care. Dumbledore trusted him, and that should be sufficient. But he had to admit that it would be nice to hear a thank you now and then. Even if he would just reward it with a sneer.

And then there were the self-titled Star Sisters. Now, those two girls were giving Snape a headache of the worst kind, even if it were unintentionally. They had all but stopped their plans to get close to him, each for her own personal reasons: Charis had not as much as looked at him ever since the little incident in the Room of Requirement. If she were embarrassed or disgusted by his unprofessional behaviour, Snape did not know. But what he did know was that the girl kept her eyes firmly on her workbench during Potions. She had always been quiet, but nowadays she seemed so withdrawn; she did not even raise her hand. Nor did she chat and giggle with her best friend. Once or twice, most of the time after a couple of glasses of Firewhisky, Snape had thought about apologising to the girl. But as soon as he had sobered up, he had discarded the idea. Why in Hades would he apologise for something that they both had wanted? But he did not like the idea of the girl suddenly hating him.

Morgana did not look at him either nowadays. Her reasons, he knew: she still seemed terrified of him, flinched every time he addressed her and even fled the common room every time he showed up. And although Snape knew that these were not the girl’s true feelings, they disturbed him. He did not want her to be afraid of him. He had honestly preferred her when she had been rebellious and cheeky.

And last but not least, there was Lucius Malfoy and his lunatic, megalomaniac plan of gifting the Dark Lord with an heir. Every time Lucius got the chance, he would remind Snape that he wanted the girl, and that it would cost Snape dearly if he tried to keep her from coming to the Manor. As if he were even trying! He had even allowed the elves to bring Lucius’ gifts to Morgana again, and she was getting plenty of them: flowers, chocolates, dresses. Lucius was spoiling the girl, and Snape knew that it was only a matter of weeks until she would succumb. And when she did, he would have to be right there at her side and keep Lucius from claiming her body.

This was all too much. And no matter how many times a day Dumbledore told him that he was the only one who could do the job, Snape feared that he would soon crumble under the pressure. He had never been a jovial man, but the strain was making him even crankier, and there were days when he couldn’t stand himself.

Oh, yes, he wanted to sleep, preferably for two or three days straight, just to shut out the world and hope it would be a better place when he woke up again. But there was no time. His NEWT class would arrive in ten minutes’ time. And besides, he doubted that he would be able to sleep without a potion anyway. He was too tense.

He went to the bathroom to splash some water on his face and change his shirt, and when he took it off, his eyes fell on the silver necklace he was wearing. He had changed the charm slightly. Instead of the star glowing, it would turn cold. That way, he could wear the necklace under his robe, under his shirt even, and no-one would ever know. Because the last thing he needed was a student detecting that he, Severus Snape, was wearing jewellery.

He stood tall and menacingly in the front of the classroom as his NEWT class trooped in and frowned as he noticed that Miss Belakane was missing. It was not like her to cut classes, especially not Potions. But then again, the girl had done quite a few things that weren’t like her over the last couple of weeks. Snape’s gaze wandered to the workbench right in front of his desk where Miss Belakane and her friend normally worked. It was a strange sight to see Charis sitting there on her own. In fact, Snape was so used of seeing the two girls side by side that his mind actually struggled with the concept of seeing Charis alone in class. Somehow, she looked forlorn. And once more, she did not look up to meet his gaze. Not once.

The students worked hard and followed his instruction to the very last detail. Obviously, the rumours of his exceptionally foul mood had already spread. But then again, this was a NEWT class, and Snape expected nothing less than perfection of them. He billowed through the classroom, weaving in and out between the workbenches and was just about to remind the students of their homework when a shudder ran through his body. He clutched at his chest and felt the cold metal through his robes. The necklace was activated!

‘Out, all of you,’ he bellowed. ‘Leave everything on your workbenches and get out. Miss Byrne, you stay.’

The students were out of the classroom as if he had Vanished them. None of them even dared question the Potions master’s decision to dismiss them earlier. Only Charis stayed behind, just as he had asked her to.

‘Your friend has left the castle,’ Snape announced. ‘I need you to inform the Headmaster.’

And without waiting for the girl’s reaction or even caring about it, he swept out of the classroom.