Aislynn Wiley

Gnawing on a hangnail, Vera studied the clothing she had laid out on her bed in preparation for the staff gathering that night. Despite doing more and more shopping, especially now that her teaching stipend had started coming in, she felt as though she was always wearing a costume. She liked the clothing she had picked, but it never felt quite like her when she put it on.

It was a strange thing, reaching twenty-six years old and realizing she had no idea how she preferred to dress. She knew what looked sensible. What looked professional. She knew what other people had liked on her.

But standing in front of her wardrobe, faced with choices that belonged entirely to her, she always found herself hesitating.

Shaking her head, Vera removed her teaching robes and glanced at herself in the mirror. Her figure had started to grow plumper again, no doubt from the bounty of food and some of the stress she had carried for the last few years slowly floating away, piece by piece.

Compared to what she had looked like at the end of August when she first arrived at the school, she looked less like a shell and more like an actual person. Some of the color had returned to her face; her cheeks were fuller, and her hair no longer seemed to come apart in clumps when she brushed it.

With a sigh, Vera grabbed the tights and rolled them up her legs. Her chewed nail caught on a seam, and she snagged the fabric near her thigh.

“Damn,” she muttered, pulling them up to her waist.

No matter, she supposed. These tights were some of the best she owned and had made the journey from America. A snag at the top was not going to stop her from wearing them.

She pulled the long black skirt laid out over top before glancing at the black sweater folded on her bed quilt.

Did she really want to wear all black?

Picking it up, Vera tucked it back into the top drawer of her dresser and selected a dark green sweater of the same style instead. Pulling it over her head, she returned to the mirror.

Her hair had been tucked into a braid all day, but it was now messy and beginning to loosen. For a moment, she debated simply leaving it, but impulsively, she pulled the hair tie from the end and ran her fingers through the long, mousy strands.

With her hair bent from the braid, she almost looked medieval. However, for the first time since arriving, she felt less like Professor Caldwell and more like…Vera, she supposed.

What a strange, unfamiliar sight she was.

—---------------------------

The staff room was bustling when Vera walked in, only a few minutes late. Minerva and Filius were engaged in what looked to be a riveting conversation, Albus and Pomona pouring drinks, Rolanda Hooch sitting cross-legged on the rug with a goblet of some dark liquid, and Severus sitting in a chair by the roaring fire, book in hand.

For a second, Vera stood awkwardly in the doorway. Then Minerva spotted her.

“Vera! Come in, please. There are drinks on the far table,” she said, gesturing toward where bottles of wine and whiskey were arranged. “We were hoping you would come down.”

“Thank you,” Vera said, glancing around the room and smiling at everyone.

Most returned the smile, and she rushed over to the table with the bottles. Albus was still there, mixing two different types of wine.

“I prefer a blend,” he said coolly as she watched him swish the liquid around.

“I’m a purist,” Vera replied, pouring a large goblet full of red wine. He eyed the amount she poured into the cup but did not say anything.

Taking a long sip, Vera turned and scanned the room. It looked different at night, with the fire lit and everyone dressed in more casual clothing.

Well, almost everyone.

She did not think she had ever seen Severus wear anything but the same style of teaching robes, even when she had run into him in Hogsmeade.

“You should join us,” Albus said beside her.

He gave her a knowing look, and she realized she was sort of shrinking against the table and wall on the far side of the room.

It seemed that, even after crossing an ocean, she was destined to be a wallflower for all eternity.

Following Albus, Vera moved toward the center of the room and joined the rest of the staff. The conversation died down slightly as they approached everyone, and she became acutely aware that she was an “other” amongst the staff here.

“How are you finding things, Vera?” Minerva asked, and Vera could tell she did so to break the silence.

“It’s very nice. The students are wonderful,” Vera said, nodding.

Severus grumbled something under his breath from where he sat, but Filius quickly chimed in.

“The students in America, are they any different than the students here?”

Thinking for a moment, Vera shrugged.

“Not in the ways that matter, I suppose. Teenagers are teenagers, no matter where they live. Although, I suppose we Americans have our quirks. Overly friendly, too forward…”

She trailed off, laughing lightly. It felt awkward answering everyone’s questions, but no one seemed to notice.

“We can always use friendly members of staff,” Pomona said, her brows raising sarcastically.

Some of the other professors smiled, a knowing look in their eyes. Minerva scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“Everyone here is perfectly pleasant,” she chortled.

“So,” Filius continued. “Why Hogwarts? Why not stay at Ilvermorny?”

Everyone’s eyes fell on Vera.

For a moment, she froze, her brain going completely blank. Albus caught her eye, and she saw him open his mouth to redirect the conversation.

“I needed a change,” she said quickly. “Wanted a fresh start.”

Rolanda chuckled. “You can’t be more than twenty-six or twenty-seven. Seems a big change to make before your life has even started.”

Now Vera truly did not know what to say. Her mouth opened slightly as she stumbled through a response.

“Well, um…”

“We should not interrogate Vera too soon, lest we scare her off a month into the school year,” Albus said, saving her from coming up with an excuse. “Pomona, I overheard a group of students in the hallway whispering about an incident with a Venomous Tentacula?”

“My goodness,” Pomona started. “We were learning how to properly -and safely- prune the scary little plant. Miss Abbott accidentally nicked the stem and, when the plant shrank back, apologized to it!”

Albus laughed loudly, and some of the others followed.

Smiling, Vera brought her wine to her lips and took several large gulps to calm her nerves. The rest of the staff seemed engrossed in Pomona’s story, so she shrank back slightly and simply observed and listened.

Glancing around, her eyes caught Severus.

He was not laughing along with the rest of the staff. His eyes were trained on her, an odd expression on his face that seemed to have morphed with the regular look of disdain he wore.

Their eyes held for two seconds before Vera broke away and finished off the last of her wine.

She slipped away from the group and headed back toward the table with the bottles. Uncorking the bottle, she began filling her glass again.

Pouring quickly, she jumped when she felt a hand touch her shoulder.

“Shit!” she yelped, jerking the bottle back.

The liquid sloshed and spilled, large drops falling onto the table and a few splashing onto her skirt.

Turning, she saw Minerva standing there with wide eyes and an apologetic expression.

“Oh dear,” Minerva said, bringing a hand to her mouth. “Vera, I am so sorry!”

Shaking her head, Vera tried to shrug it off as she placed the bottle back down.

“It’s fine,” she muttered, attempting to wipe the wine away with her hand.

Minerva produced her wand, making quick work of the mess on the table with a small wave. The glass went to Vera’s lips again, and Minerva watched as she took a gulp.

“Are you alright? I did not mean to scare you.”

“Really, it’s fine.”

The words came out slightly stiffer than Vera intended, and she smiled to try and soften her tone. After all, Minerva had done nothing wrong.

“We are very glad you came down here,” Minerva said finally. “It’s good for us to get to know you.”

Smiling, Vera nodded. Minerva started back toward the group, and Vera followed behind her. Standing amongst her colleagues again, she shifted on her feet and tried to blend in as best she could.

Rolanda was telling some story about a group of first-years with incredibly jumpy brooms, but Vera could not fully concentrate on what she was saying.

Instead, she simply smiled and laughed when others did, mirroring their reactions. After about twenty minutes of forced smiles and occasional remarks, she drained the rest of her wine.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she murmured to the group, though she was not sure anyone heard her over the debate happening between Filius and Pomona.

Placing her goblet on the table, she slipped out of the room without anyone noticing.

The hallways were silent, most students enjoying their Friday evening in their respective common rooms. Vera walked completely alone, entering a section of the castle with large stone windows open to the night air.

She approached one, glancing around to ensure she was completely alone, and pulled a small box of cigarettes from the pocket of her skirt.

Lighting one, she took a long drag, sighing as smoke filled her lungs. Her hands shook slightly. Whether it was from her nerves or the cold October air, she would never know.

“Those things will kill you.”

The voice startled her, and Vera coughed, the smoke catching in her throat.

Turning, she saw Severus standing several feet behind her, watching her struggle to catch her breath.

“Sorry,” she muttered once she could breathe properly, turning back toward the open window. “I know I shouldn’t smoke inside.”

He walked next to her, pulling his own pack from his robes. Vera watched, stunned, as he lit one.

“This is technically outside,” he said matter-of-factly.

They stood silently, nothing but the sound of the wind outside and the occasional inhale breaking through the air.

“I find that people ask too many questions,” he said quietly after a minute.

Exhaling smoke, Vera nodded.

“That’s what I like about Albus; he hardly asks me anything at all.”

“That’s because he already knows all the answers.”

Her hand paused, cigarette halfway to her mouth. Severus did not look over at her, continuing to exhale smoke out the window.

“Curiosity is a persistent illness among academics,” he continued.

Shrugging, Vera inhaled again. “I’m sure that they mean well.”

“Undoubtedly.”

A heavy breath left Vera’s nose, almost half of a laugh. Severus glanced sideways at her before continuing.

“They’ll tire of asking.”

“What makes you so sure?”

He did not respond immediately. Instead, he took another drag from his cigarette.

“Experience,” he finally said.

Vera nodded but did not press him.

Severus studied her for a moment before his gaze drifted to the cigarette in her hand.

“You are wasting half of that.”

Blinking, she frowned. “What?”

“You’re letting it burn.”

Then, without a second thought, he reached over and tapped her cigarette with two fingers, the ash crumbling off the end.

Withdrawing his hand, he took one more long drag from his cigarette, stubbed the end into the stone archway of the window, and tossed it away.

He stepped back slightly.

“As I said,” he muttered.

Then he walked away without so much as a goodbye, leaving Vera standing alone.

Turning back toward the open window, she finished her cigarette slowly, relishing the quiet moment of solitude as the smoke burned her lungs.

Her hands had stopped shaking.

Days quickly slipped into a week, and the freedom bestowed upon Ominis and Sebastian was intoxicating to them. Ominis did not have to face his family alone at dinner times, and Sebastian had free reign to do as he wished in a house with endless means and possibilities. Pure bliss was the only way to describe how the two boys felt.

Their day was simple, and similar, every day. Mornings did not start early, and one or both of the boys always had a lie in bed until late morning. Afternoons were for being lazy, roaming and exploring, reading books for enjoyment, lounging in the gardens. Dinner was always tense, but usually only took up ninety minutes of the day. After dinner, the boys were free to sneak liquor and embrace stupidity. Nothing had been better, and nothing seemed like it could top it.

Sebastian was careful to avoid Marvolo’s gallery room, but he still endured glares from the eldest son at dinner. There was an incident that happened, however, on Sebastian’s seventh day in the home. Ominis, in his true fashion, had gone upstairs to his room to take a nap. Sebastian had removed a book from the library and was currently lounging in the gardens, basking in the sun and soaking up tales of Greek gods and monsters.

His mind became utterly lost in the lives of Achilles and Patroclus, and he couldn’t help but wonder what their bond was really like. Patroclus, like Sebastian, had been exiled from his family. Thus, he clung to Achilles with deep affection. Was Ominis Achilles, then? Achilles was meant to be brutal, Patroclus compassionate. That seemed backwards to Sebastian, him being much more brash than Ominis.

The more he thought about it, the more he became confused. The men loved each other, that much was evident. The death of Patroclus brought Achilles into the deepest despair. But what kind of love was it? Were they like brothers? Friends who, due to the Trojan war, secured a bond so deep that they attached themselves to each other? Or were they lovers? Sebastian suspected as much, the way they were portrayed did hint that their love was as much physical as it was mental.

He felt his cheeks grow hot at this thought. Moments before, he had compared himself to Patroclus and Ominis to Achilles, and now he sits and thinks that the two men in the book had to have had a sexual relationship. Sebastian was not Ominis’ tragic lover, bound to him by tragedy and love.

“That’s a good one.”

Sebastian’s eyes jerk up from his book. Marvolo stands over him, ever so slightly blocking the sun where he stands. Sebastian sits up slightly in his seat, determined to feel bigger despite sitting. “I am enjoying it, yes,” he responds, coolly.

Marvolo grins, wickedly as usual. “They die at the end, don’t they?”

Sebastian’s brows cock up ever so slightly, surprised that Marvolo may have actually read the book. “Patroclus does first. Achilles' death has always been somewhat murky, but he does eventually die I suppose.”

“Achilles was in deep despair after Patroclus died.”

“What a riveting observation, Marvolo.”

The Gaunt grins at this. “You may think me an idiot, but I am far too aware of things that you think are oblivious to the world,” he says, pointedly.

Sebastian sighs. “I know you received Ominis’ letter. I know you hid it, or tossed it, or whatever. You are the reason his parents did not know of my arrival.”

“Very good, Sebastian! It always amazes me when people of lesser stature have excellent critical thinking skills. Of course, small pranks between siblings are probably nothing new,” Marvolo says, clapping his hands together once.

“I wouldn’t call what you’ve done ‘small pranks’.”

This causes Marvolo’s face to twist slightly, his smile falling. “What are you implying?”

Sebastian braces himself, looking straight into Marvolo’s eyes. “I don’t think casting the Cruciatus curse on him is a prank,” he says, his voice seething. He doesn’t even need to say Ominis’ name, Marvolo knows.

“Placing blame on me for my brother’s weakness, are you?” Marvolo sneers. “Tell me Sebastian, why is it you have no family to go home to? My brother advocated for you, for your place in our home, yet he mentions your love of the Dark Arts. You have a sister, yes? What does she think of your interests?”

Sebastian glares, unable to come up with an answer right away. Marvolo can see this, and he knows that he has won the conversation. “I look forward to your family troubles resolving. Until then, try not to meddle with my family too much,” he says, a smug grin accompanying the words.

Marvolo turns and walks away swiftly, clearly pleased with himself. Sebastian feels like an idiot, but he is also angry. As soon as Marvolo is gone, he shuts his book and goes back inside the house, heading up to the third floor and into Ominis’ room.

“Wake up!” he says as soon as the door is shut. Ominis, in his slumber, startles quickly and shoots his upper half away from the mattress.

“Wh- what has happened?” the blonde spits out, confused by the sudden harsh wake-up from Sebastian. Rubbing his cheeks, he tries to understand why his friend sounds so angry with him. “Have I done something?”

Sebastian scoffs at this. “Telling your family that I was no longer welcome in mine because of my ‘love for the Dark Arts’? Yes, Ominis, that is something you have done.”

Ominis is shaking his head, his heart pounding. He has seldom experienced Sebastian being angry towards him. If anything, it was normally the other way around. “That was the only way!”

“The only way for what?”

“The only way I could convince them to let you stay here this summer! They were going to throw you out that night!”

Sebastian shuts his mouth, surprised by this. For a moment, the air hangs thick between them. “Why would they care if I was interested in that stuff?”

Ominis grimaces. “My family thinks that you’re a martyr, that you’re misunderstood. They take pity on people who are like them.”

Like them.

Sebastian wonders if Ominis meant to make the comparison. If he meant to compare his friend to the family that tortured him for years. He tries his best not to take it personally, but he does. “Fuck you, Ominis.”

Ominis frowns. “What the hell did you want me to say? ‘Oh, father and mother, take pity on my friend Sebastian. His sister does not want to see him and he has no living adult family members.’ I’m sure that would have convinced them!” he says, becoming just as angry.

In Ominis’ mind, he has done no wrong. He has only embellished the truth to afford Sebastian a summer of luxury and freedom. But he does not say this, as he does not want to rub his family’s wealth into Sebastian’s face while he is angry with him. “What did you want me to tell them? I panicked, and I wanted you here this summer.”

This softens Sebastian’s mind a bit, so much so that he tries to empathize with Ominis on the issue. Surely Ominis was just doing what he could so that Sebastian could stay here. There was no harm really, other than Marvolo’s taunts. He sighs, feeling guilty all at once for his outburst on his friend.

“My pride has eaten at me since I have arrived,” Sebastian suddenly admits, much to Ominis’ surprise. It’s not an apology, but Ominis almost views it as such.

“What are you feeling prideful about?” Ominis asks, gently and carefully.

Sebastian grimaces, unsure at first on how to say it. “I think I have pride in my upbringing. That, even though I did not come from this wealth, I am still capable and intelligent. Your family, I suspect, thinks otherwise.”

This makes Ominis’ heart ache for his friend. His friend, who is perhaps the most clever and ambitious person he knows, feels small among the likes of someone like Marvolo. “My family doesn’t come close to who you are,” he says softly, almost bashfully. But Ominis means this, the affection he has for his friend runs deeper than his affection for anyone else.

“You flatter me,” Sebastian says, grinning. Thoughts of Achilles and Patroclus swirl in his mind, and he pushes them out just as quickly. Glancing down, he realizes he is still clutching the book. “Do we have to prepare for supper shortly?”

“What time is it?”

“Quarter past six.”

Ominis nods. “Yes, let’s prepare then. My father has noted that he and my mother will be gone tomorrow. I suspect they are calling on some people. Anyways, we won’t have to tiptoe around the house, and you can poke around downstairs if you wish.”

“Anything good down there?”

Ominis smiles. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

This causes Sebastian to laugh, which in turn causes Ominis to do the same. The boys sense an ease between them, whiplashed after their argument only minutes before. But that is so often the case with friends; a push and pull of the love we have.

“Ominis?”

Ominis hums in response, waiting for his friend to speak again. Sebastian opens his mouth, then shuts it, then opens it again. “Have you read the Iliad?”

“Yes, once before. It’s a tragic tale, isn’t it?”

“Did you know that your brother had read it?”

Ominis snorts in response. “I’m surprised Marvolo reads anything at all, to be honest. He is less sharp than a spoon.”

Sebastian smiles. “That was a wicked thing to say, Ominis.”

Ominis frowns, a pout playing on his lips. “You’re not serious, are you? My brother is a lost cause when it comes to intelligence. He’s nothing more than a stupid bully with a fancy way of speaking.”

“Thank Merlin you didn’t turn out like that,” Sebastian says, teasing slightly. “You are smart but speak very simply.”

“Sebastian, I do not!”

The brunette laughs at his friends' annoyance, relishing in the simple moments of sarcasm and teasing words. Sebastian’s mind still draws back to Achilles, to Patroclus, to their friendship. He wonders if the words in the book are somehow being absorbed into his body, if somehow they are plaguing his mind.

Across the room, Ominis is recalling what he knows of the Iliad. He is also remembering the story of Achilles and Patroclus who, in Ominis’ mind, were certainly lovers. And the swirling of names is confusing: Achilles, Sebastian, Patroclus. It causes Ominis to stop laughing, to wonder if his thoughts are wrong.

“I am going to get ready for dinner,” he announces suddenly, standing up from the bed in a rush. Sebastian stared at his friend who, either because he had forgotten or because he did not care, had nothing but underwear on. Ominis’ body, slim and pale, was on display.

“I’ll, um, go then. Get ready in my room,” Sebastian says, stumbling through the bathroom as he speaks. He hears Ominis mutter a response, but doesn’t quite catch what it is. There was no reason for Sebastian to feel unsure about seeing him half-naked, it had happened before. They had shared a room for years, Merlin!