scarlet letter;

“White!” He latched onto the information, lighting up like empty and white was a revelation, not hearing dark or maybe. Not even considering that any light color could look white in the dim and any building could be white. Empty, white, long halls, not a house. White, sterile, and expansive. They were being held under a hospital. He was sure of it. It fit with everything. Unless “Scarlet” was someone else, telling him what he expected to hear along with putting the blame on Claudia Flint cleverly. 

“It matters because it’s not what would actually happen. People, especially not women, don’t wander around the streets at night in their pajamas unless they’re, I don’t know, escaping a burning building,  and you couldn’t graduate Hogwarts as a squib and I don’t know what game this is  but I’m not that dumb that I’m not going to see where things don’t add up.” He stared her down, hands balling to fists, though he wasn’t apt to physical violence even in the times when he did think the odds were in his favor. “Maybe I remember that conversation and I can buy you’re who you say you are and not another mask.” He really isn’t sure. It seems familiar but it could be the power of suggestion or they could have seen the memory in his mind. He’s been holding out against the legilmency but he’s also been so tired he’s not completely certain he can’t have slipped up and not even known. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not lying about everything else and you’re not with them.”

His argument didn’t make sense to her. With a shrug, she tried explaining again, although disinterested in proving a point and not yet aware that he was suspicious of her. “I needed to finish my pancakes and had run out of milk. I’m sorry if it frustrates you.” She couldn’t believe that she was pouring her heart out to him, as something she hasn’t done openly ever - since the secret she was whispering wasn’t one she liked to share and that was the first time she hasn’t said the words through hiccups and sobs. With a tired shrug, Scarlet decided that she didn’t have the time to prove her own uselessness and that the thought of it felt weird after a lifetime of struggling to keep up just the opposite appearance. There was a certain pride in how he wouldn’t just buy it, because she has been so good to that point at faking magic in her blood, but it was small, compared to what else was happening and the fact that she couldn’t stay and be discovered, not for her reputation, but safety.

“I wasn’t trying to prove you a point. I was talking about my condition,” she deadpanned, no longer looking at him as she gave up trying to tell him anything. The whole situation was silly. She was refusing to open up about her biggest secret, that would possibly destroy her place in society, and make an effort all to win the trust of Scorpius Malfoy. It felt so pointless, and, frankly, he had to be the one insisting and asking questions about it. She didn’t want to share one more inch of her true skin and she has been foolish to do so willingly to that point. “Okay,” she just shrugged and stayed silent for a reasonably long time before adding the rest. “This place alone must have driven you insane. Believe what you will. I won’t try to convince you of anything. It’s just ridiculous.”

Emma rolled her eyes. This girl was either playing dumb or actually dumb, which didn’t seem very far-fetched given who she was. “Why did you think you were here? To do arts and crafts?” she replied. “I’m not asking you where you stole the magic from, because there’s some pretty significant evidence that stolen magic can be passed down through generations. So I know that’s not something you can answer. I’ll stick to the easy ones for now. I’ll ask again. What is the hardest kind of magic?”

“I don’t think anything about the reason why I’m here, except that it has to be an embarrassing misunderstanding,” Scarlet replied coldly, articulating every word but trying to keep it meek enough not to upset anybody and put herself into even more danger. Frozen, she genuinely didn’t know what to reply. “You’re wasting your time,” she eventually breathed out as she shook her head. It was a truth, but she was still dodging the whole story because she didn’t want them to see her as completely useless. It was just a delay, but something she needed. “Please send me home. I’ll forget this ever happened,” she proposed the woman again, with liquid eyes that were begging her too, even louder. She knew that that was the only reasonable solution to the problem. She just wished she didn’t have to say why.

“Who knows? I doubt it was actually Claudia but I haven’t heard much of her in a few years. I thought she moved away so where would they be getting hair for polyjuice if it’s not actually her?” He mused and debated outloud, thinking he was making smart conclusions and vowing to finger Claudia Flint as a suspect if he managed to dreamwalk again. 

The scoff wounded his pride, but for once he held off defending his capability since there were more important things to address. “Color of the corridors? Any furniture? Did it seem more like a house or an industrial building? There have to be specifics. Anything you didn’t think worth noticing still was. You have to try and remember.” He felt that niggling doubt again that she was being vague on purpose because she was another trick, but then wouldn’t she rather feed him false information and see if it got out? Either way, he didn’t repeat that he had ways of getting messages to the aurors. Then a stronger wave of incredulity hit. “You were on the main road of Hogsmeade in your pajamas?”  Tricks. Games. What was the point? “Not a real witch? What does that even mean?” He, unlike she had, didn’t try to be quiet. He was already impatient with this new tactic all at once  as he condemned “Scarlet” as a lie and ready for her to go.

Scarlet didn’t know what to do and what Claudia has been doing lately, so she just shrugged, placing her head on her knees, exhausted already after just maybe thirty minutes of being captured. Couldn’t she just go home? She clearly didn’t belong there and it was all a misunderstanding still. That was the phrase she was determined to use with insistence, because she was certain that it had to be the case. 

“I think white. There wasn’t a lot of light. Didn’t you come through the same route though? It didn’t look like a house. It was long and narrow and... just long. Maybe a big house.” If she thought about it, there were such corridors in her own house, though not with white, empty walls. She felt her own incompetence weigh heavily on her shoulders as she sighed. Why didn’t she think to memorize more of the place. Why was she such an idiot. Scarlet wanted to cry, not because he was stuck in that situation, but due to her own incompetence. Looking down at her shirt again, Scarlet didn’t blush or feel ashamed. “Yes?” she retorted without understanding the problem as she took her coat off completely and placed it near her. “Does it matter in these circumstances?” She wasn’t offended, though. To her, it didn’t. When he asked for an elaboration, all she could do was sigh heavily, shocked to hear herself say the words and tell them with such cruelty towards herself. “It means what you think it means. I can’t do basic magic. I can’t do anything. I’m a s-q-u-i-b. All I can think about is this one discussion we’ve had at some point when you were smoking and I said I wouldn’t if I were you and... hell, I could really use a cigarette, but that’s not the point. The point is I was all smiley and nice and saying that being special isn’t always a good thing... I think, and you huffed, because how would I know how being special feels like to begin with, but I do. I do because I’ve spent seven years in a school of magic without the slightest power to perform the slightest magic trick. Now you’ll ask how and that’s a really long story that we don’t have time for. What I need is to get out of here, because I don’t know what they think I can do, but I am physically unable to do magic and I don’t intend to die here.”

He’d been slumped against the wall, not asleep but definitely not fully awake, the drained zombie-esque state he’d been in on and off for the past few weeks whenever he was finally left alone. He couldn’t even be sure if he was being drugged or he was just in a fog of exhaustion. Even the dream walking that came easy to him hadn’t been achievable since the one night he’d worn himself out completely and spent the next day unable to be roused at all. Air was getting easier though, and earth didn’t tire him out as much as he’d always believed it would–his captors didn’t seem impressed but he was, until his eyes rolled back in his head and they’d called another session quits. He’s instantly alive though, running on renewed adrenaline when Scarlet is brought in and prodded into the circle though, and he’s up and at her side as soon as they are alone. 

He’s aware it could be another trick like his father, he even expects it by now, but he responds with the same openness and urgency as if he was completely sure he had just been tossed an ally. “They aren’t going to be out of the room for long and if the are that means they’re still listening somehow. Someone’s going to walk in any minute and it could be your family or someone you know from Hogsmeade or even back at school but don’t trust it. There are at least three of them. I’ve seen maybe thirty faces though. They don’t like to reuse the same ones too often. They’re using polyjuice. They’re running medical trials or something like that  It’s what it seems the most like. Archer talked about off the rails, off the grid healers who have a secret facility  for years and that’s what this looks like more than anything else. They don’t want money and they don’t want us for political leverage. They are testing my spirit powers but they haven’t talked to me about attacking any targets so they don’t seem like terrorists. They just want to put me through tests, mess with my medications, try out human transfiguration, do a bunch of other pointless shit until I get too tired. They’re probably going to do the same to you. Take deep breaths.”He put a hand on her back.” They aren’t going to hurt you. They haven’t hurt me and if they try something with you I won’t let them, alright? We’re in this together.We’ll work together and we’ll escape or they’ll come for us. I know how to get messages out.  Did you see anything in the way in? Hear anything? Take in anything at all that would ? Where were you taken from? What did they say? I need to know anything you remember.”

She listened, nodding, to everything Scorpius had to say, displaying less surprise that she was feeling on her face when he mentioned Alexzander Archer and his crazy rambles possibly being what was keeping them there. It made sense. They wanted a squib for counterpoint. Swallowing dryly, Scarlet accepted it and preferred to keep that detail to herself, not that she didn’t know it was going to come out at any time, especially in such a small, closed space. Then, it all made sense, and the face that captured her got explained. “I’ve had Claudia Flint attack me on the street. It wasn’t Claudia though, not really, was she?” Her head was booming and she dusted off her pajama shirt, a bit embarrassed to be caught in such a state.

Hearing what he had to say about it, Scarlet didn’t know whether to feel relieved or even more scared as a result of it. She settled for the comfortable nothingness, just waiting to see where this would take them and casting both desperation and hope out of her mind in order to not be disappointed or too let down. It was an easy process to her, like detachment. She couldn’t help but scoff as Scorpius implied that he could do anything to stop them from hurting her, in a cliche chivalrous manner that made her remember so many familiar faces that got quite the same treatment. Everybody wanted to save her and it was a concept she was used to, but hearing almost strangers say it felt even worse than the usual. Either way, she had to appreciate it because it was the polite reaction when somebody offered to risk their safety for hers and consider it at least an inch sweet. “I saw corridors. She apparated me in the middle of one and we walked around down them, but it was pretty dark. Nothing specific.” She hadn’t thought of looking closely and paying full attention to the route just like Bellamy hasn’t thought of blindfolding her. She hoped it would help, anyway. “I was on the main road of Hogsmeade, so perhaps somebody saw me. I said it had to be a misunderstanding, but she insisted it wasn’t and that I had to do this. It’s weird. Like they’re... fanatics,” she mouthed the last word, trying not to insult anybody out loud and cause herself problems. “But I’m not a spirit elemental. I’m not even a real witch,” she continued mouthing, looking straight into his eyes and letting go of the secret before they would. It was just a person and more than just the reputation of her family was at risk in that moment. And Scorpius seemed to overall nice that perhaps he would keep the secret once they got out of there. 

“Relax,” Emma said offhandedly as led Scarlet into the other room and locked the door behind her, motioning for Scarlet to sit in the folding chair taken from the basement of the church. This one was much more anxious than the other one, Emma thought. Or, at least, her way of showing it was much more obvious. It was a little annoying, but it was almost endearing, too. Scorpius had just come off as bratty to Emma. 

She took out Scarlet’s file and put it on the table. There were only a few notes. What Emma really wanted to know was whether spirit elemental magic was inherently stronger than magic from regular witches and wizards, but of course there was no safe way to test that without risking Scarlet escaping. Emma didn’t know how powerful this girl was. “If you answer a few questions honestly, we’re not going to have any problems. If not…” She turned one of the spare sheets of paper in the file into a monarch butterfly and then, after a few seconds, conjured a flame to set it on fire. The ashes crumbled in a pile underneath and Emma felt a little twinge of excitement at the whole thing making her look so theatrical and in-control. 

“What’s the hardest kind of magic for you to do?” she started. It was a simple question, but Emma hoped it would lead somewhere interesting. 

Slightly bothered when she was told to relax when she was perfectly calm, Scarlet tried not to let it get to her and break that serene attitude that had nothing to do with the context they were in and was only result of a ridiculously passive take on life that she had adopted in time. “I am relaxed,” she spat the words back coldly, though without disrespect. It wasn’t much different from how she was dealing with everyday matters. “As relaxed as I can be when you aren’t telling us anything,” she continued, trying not to make it sound like frustration and resentment, but how could it not be?

She looked at the performance without being able to take her eyes off it, still fascinated no matter how terrible the threat was. They wanted honest, and Scarlet has never done honest in her life. Her lips twisted into a quick smile that faltered away almost on spot as Emma asked her question, making the girl shudder. Whatever her answer was, she was doomed. They wanted honest, and she didn’t want to be difficult, but she knew there were great risks that came with the honest truth. She also knew that there was no way out of that lie when she genuinely had no magic to offer - and they seemed to be after magic. She was too. For a moment, her lips smiled again, but quickly got replaced with a thin line she pursed them into. Without knowing what else to say and regretting that she had to create such obstacles in the way of their research, the Burke girl shrugged, without leaving room for any answer. At least she would stall them a bit, though she had no illusions that the woman in front of her wasn’t able to tell the answer to that question, or that she didn’t have it in her to turn Scarlet into the butterfly in flames. 

“Why am I here? Because of magic?” she tried to figure out, connecting dots because of the questions she was asking and also from what Scorpius managed to talk to her about in the brief time they had alone. He was claiming they were healers, but they seemed anything but the sort of people who fix problems to her. Again in a limit situation, Scarlet wished again that she were brave. And powerful. And at least lucky enough to get through it.