Promises (Temporarily on Hiatus)

Winter was now upon us. The Hall was abuzz with conversation about the Yule Ball tonight, what they would be wearing, who they were going with, and what they planned on doing afterwards. I pushed the food around on my plate, only half-listening, and stabbed a boiled carrot mercilessly before mashing it with the prongs.

"Didn't your parents teach you not to play with your food, Evelyn?" Marjorie chided, primping and gazing intently into a small enamel compact.

"Oh, yes," I mumbled, straightening my posture and set my utensils down. "Are you finished then?"

"Yes! Well, I could hardly eat. I'm so nervous. Can we go?"

I stood up and walked beside her, along with the Hutchinson twins, a Bulstrode, and Artemisia Yaxley. I had promised them all that I would charm their hair to curl and glamour away any imperfections. Naturally, it would take me some time to complete all this, and I decided that it would be best to start early.

Though the dance didn't start for a good two hours, the common room was already in a state of distress. Dresses were being flung across the room, shoes kicked off, and the cacophony of teenage wail and whinge filled my ears. I saw two girls fighting over a pair of shoes, clawing at each other, tugging at hair; I saw another girl jinx a sixth year’s lipstick to seal her lips shut.

Bedlamites, every last one of them.

"You all get dressed," I shouted at them over the din. "I will be back later."

I felt claustrophobic in the tightly packed room and fought my way to the door. I finally managed to make it to the high wooden aperture, slid it aside with the wave of my wand, and stepped out into the cold, stone rotunda. A group of male Slytherins were huddled in a group at the opposite end, slouching against the wall and whispering to each other.

"Evelyn," Victor called out to me. "The lads want to know if it's safe to go in."

"Hardly," I replied. "But it's only going to get worse, boys. I think that... I think you're just going to have to make a dash for it."

They began talking furiously amongst themselves, and I left them to devise a plan to get through the common room unscathed... or alive, at least.

I wanted to take a shower before the dance but knew that all the bathrooms were going to be absolutely packed... except for one. The girl's lavatory on the second floor was entirely empty, the silence so thick I feared I would shatter it with even the slightest peep. I stripped off my clothing, leaving it in a heap on the floor and hung up a towel on a rusted hook. The communal showers lined the walls, their knobs dusty with disuse and rusted from the damp air. I twisted the handle resolutely and watched as the water rained down from the high spigot. Shivering in the icy air, I watched plumes of steam escape my mouth as my breath came in contact with the frosty environ.

"What are you doing?" a nasally voice inquired behind me.

"Hello, Myrtle," I replied calmly, not bothering to cover myself. I had one hand under the stream of water, waiting for the temperature to reach a suitable level.

"No one ever showers in here," she giggled.

"There's a dance tonight. All the other loos are full."

"A dance?" she asked, tears welling around her translucent eyes. It was so strange, carrying on conversations with ghosts. You were never certain how to treat them. They were human... But you had to be careful. How much did they really remember about life? About what it was like to exist? "I never got to go to a dance."

I stepped under the trickle of hot water that drizzled from the tap. "I'm sorry to hear that." I began to massage my scalp and picked up the bar of lavender soap, scrubbing my legs, under my breasts, and my stomach. I watched the sudsy water swirl down the drain, carrying the dirt embedded in the grooves of the floor along with it.

"Do you have an escort?" Myrtle asked irritatingly.

I turned off the water and stood there for a few moments, leaning against the cold stone wall.

"No," I said lightly. "I don't." I removed the towel from the hook and began drying off.

"Couldn't get one?" she asked.

"Didn't want one." And that was the truth. I could have asked someone, pushed through my fear of rejection and found a date, but I had no desire, no interest in dragging along some poor chap. I wouldn't have danced with him. I wouldn't flirt. It would have been miserable for the both of us.

The towel wrapped snugly around me, I bent over a sink and splashed cold water on my face, trying to bring down some of the redness that had bloomed there. I stared at my reflection in the mirror for some time, Myrtle hovering behind me, observing. I blinked a couple times, bit my lower lip, and waited until the right shade blossomed from the pressure. Satisfied with the result, I snatched my wand and charmed that same colour there. I did the same with my cheeks. And then the freckles, those loathed little spots, bane of my mother's existence, I wiped them away with one wave of my wand.

As I was drying my hair, I began to think of why I was doing all this. I had no one to impress, no one to dance with, and I doubted that anyone would notice the effort I had put into looking presentable. Except one man.

I had not spoken to Professor Snape for two months, except to answer a direct question or to mark my presence during roll call. I sat in the back of the classroom, I didn't ask him to revise my application, and I didn't serve any of the remaining detentions.

It was painful to say the least. Never had I felt so absolutely alone. Isolated and adrift, I began to lose my drive and sense of purpose. I never thought myself the sort to languish like that. I didn't need a man to make me complete. But I had almost had him, there, in my grasp, and as much as I asserted my independence, the bitterness that remained on my tongue made each day seem callous and cruel.

The only time I dared look at him was during meals. I couldn't help myself; my eyes were drawn to him inevitably. I wouldn't stare for long, only allow my gaze to wander towards him for a few moments. But I did notice that he often looked at me. I'd catch him, but he was unapologetic about it and wouldn't break the look. I always ended up turning away from him and busying myself with other things.

I think he tried to apologise once after class. I had taken too long to pack my things and was left alone in the room with him. He got up from his desk and strode over to the table directly across the aisle. I had been nervous about being alone with him and my hands shook as I swept my supplies haphazardly into my satchel. Just as my hand clasped the doorknob, he spoke.

"Miss Harper," Snape pronounced slowly, cautiously. Before he could say anything else, I marched from the room, slamming the door shut behind me.

That disrespectful, rather discourteous gesture rebelled against every sensible nerve in my body. I wanted to turn around and beg for forgiveness for my crassness. My compulsive need to make adults happy dictated almost all my actions and betraying that sense was absolute torture.

"I never was invited to a dance," Myrtle whined. I snapped out of my reverie and shook my head to clear my vision, which had gone slightly blurry. "Your hair is too short. You can't do anything with it."

"Thanks," I snapped. Myrtle was right though. My bob, though chic, was rather useless when it came to up-do's. The best I could do was smooth it down and use an emerald hair pin to pull back one side. My grandmother had given it to me for my eleventh birthday and I cherished it immensely. The tarnished silver engraving on the barrette and tiny emeralds had fascinated me as a young child and had always made me feel sophisticated. Now that I had a chance to wear it, the clasp only made me feel slightly ill and served as a reminder of what clan I belonged to.

After I had attired myself in my school uniform, I bid adieu to Myrtle, who had begun to snivel at the thought of never fully experiencing adolescence and made my way back to the dungeons. The halls were deserted, save for the younger children who weren't permitted to attend the ball, and I made easy progress. When I reached the Slytherin Common, I noted that the male population had somehow managed to get into the dormitories, and upon entering the common room, I was assaulted.

"Evelyn!" a dozen girls shrieked in unison. "Where have you been?"

"Erm, shower."

"Line up, girls. Line up," Marjorie clapped her hands. She was dressed in a scandalously short black lace frock with obscenely high heels that wobbled underfoot. "Evelyn will take care of each of you in turn, me first of course."

"Marjorie, I have to get ready. Can't you do it yourselves?" I looked frantically around the room.

"You promised, Evelyn," Marjorie hissed dangerously. "And if I say you're going to do it, you'll do it."

"And if I don't?"

"Well, Evelyn, it's not as if you have anyone to impress," she said loudly. "I don't even see why you're even going."

I was irate. "What makes you think for an instant that I'll do it now, you stupid cow?"

I instantly regretted the words not because I didn't mean them—because I had now ostracised myself from the entirety of Slytherin House. While she stood their dumb, mouth agape, I pushed past her and the other shocked girls. No one had ever spoken to Marjorie Rosier like that; at least, no one had spoken to her like that and lived to tell the tale.

I marched upstairs to the now empty bedroom and rummaged in my trunk for the dress. I would be damned if that horrid girl stopped me. But... that little slip of the tongue would cost me dearly. No one would cross Marjorie, and if I was blacklisted, I would have a long, lonely rest of the year.

As a means of protesting my parents’ denial of my Oxford fund, I had elected to stay at school over the holiday, thinking that it might give them a chance to change their minds. The best news was the fact that everyone was leaving tomorrow for winter break. I would be the only Slytherin staying at Hogwarts, most likely, as the only people that remained at school over the holiday were the orphans or children too poor to go home. Neither category was common amongst Slytherins.

Just as I was about to leave, our family Falcon, Éammon, pecked delicately on the glass. I opened the window, removed the letter, fed him a few treats, and watched as he faded into the night. I heard the school clock chime eight o'clock and knew that the girls were headed to the Great Hall, glamoured or not.

I broke the wax of the letter and read.

Róisín,
There has been an interesting turn of events. It seems as though your intended has decided that he wants you to pursue your... dreams and has supplied you with enough money to attend Oxford. He has asked that we not disclose his identity to you. Nevertheless, it is too late to send for you so you will still have to remain at Hogwarts.
Bail ó Dhia ort,
Father
P.S. It's me, Róisín. I'm sure you're quite ecstatic, a ghrá. Between you and your mummy, I think you will be most pleased by the match. I know we promised you that it would never come to this, but times have changed. I've made sure that he is a respectable man of a good family with lots of money, and he even wants you to continue your education! Your grandmother and grandfather have approved the betrothal. Stay safe over the holiday; I'm sorry you won't be wit us. Caoimhe and Murtagh miss you terribly.

I crumpled the paper and chucked it into the fire, biting my knuckles savagely in anger and frustration. I wanted to scream and cry and wrap myself in a cocoon of sheets and down... but I didn't.

I slipped on my dress, a long, silk garment that pooled around my feet. My heels came next, then the ribbon that laced up the back of my frock, and finally a dab of lavender oil behind my ears and on my wrists.

I knew this was coming. I had been promised to someone for a very long time. Of course, it was nice to pretend that I had a say in the matter. Now that I knew, now that it was sealed, I would just have to accept it. Accept it... and seek my revenge for this hideous, repugnant betrayal. It was time Professor Snape and I made amends.