winter in watercolors

(( @mugglxstudiexs ))

The days after accepting the teaching position were excruciating, there were moments when Robbie almost reached out to Dumbledore to tell him he was backing out. But he had fought the thoughts that told him he was going to make a fool of himself and now here he was, weeks after the start of the new term, and he was doing a decent job, well there were no complaints, so he assumed it was a decent job. Of course he wouldn’t have been able to do it without Anaïs, she had been a constant in his life since his life started to have any meaning. And now with the recent explosion at the muggle music store at Hogsmeade, and one of their students attacked, Robbie couldn’t be done with his workday any sooner, he finished his last class and headed for her classroom. He knocked on the already opened door, “Anaïs” Robbie called, “are you busy?”

The past few weeks had wrapped around her like Devil’s Snare—and she was patiently waiting to be finished off. Everything made her anxious; she had come to expect herself to jump at the smallest noises. She actively fought against the feeling of helplessness, which she knew led to pity. No, she wanted to be independent and strong, though neither of those came naturally to her, which is why she was so grateful to see Rob. “Hello, darling!” Anaïs had been throwing herself into work so intensely that her entire classroom was decorated with a random assortment of Muggle artifacts. Her desk was piled with lightbulbs at the moment—one of her favorite lessons for the first year students. “Come in, please! Actually, we might as well go to my office. You’ll stay for tea? Come,” she vanished the lightbulbs and gathered her cloak in her arms. “I have biscuits, too. The House Elves are so kind—they always make my favorite. Chocolate peppermint.” She led them across the hall to her office, which was likewise decorated with Muggle artifacts. Anaïs inclined her head to one of the comfortable armchairs in the room, fiddling with the tea pot and cakes. “How’re you? Are the students treating you well?”

Pandora always tried to feed the giant squid, who she had nicknamed Squishy, but he only showed up once in a while. She had brought leftover toast scraps from breakfast (a lot of people had lost their appetites because of Mary) and had began throwing them in the water, calling out “Here Squishy Squishy Squishy!”

She then jumped at the unexpected voice, jumping high in the air before nervously chuckling. “Hi Professor, you scared me!”

“Squishy, hm?” Anaïs pulled up her skirts and joined Pandora by the water. “Is that what you call the squid? I always thought he was rather more imposing than a Squishy. Is that it—the irony of it?”

Fabian sat down, not speaking for what felt like forever, but was probably closer to just a few seconds. She was right, obviously she was right, the only thing going in to see Mary would do was make him feel better. It still stung to hear, that what was going on with Mary right now didn’t include him. It wasn’t what he meant by wanting to see her, now he felt selfish for it, but maybe he was. “Do you know what happened? If she’s okay?” Of course she wasn’t okay, it was a stupid question, but he hoped Beauchamp knew what he meant by ‘okay.’ 

“I know a bit,” Anaïs smiled sympathetically, waving her wand once more to reveal a small table with the tea pot and biscuits from her office. She busied herself by pouring them each a cup and propping open the container of biscuits. “I know that Madame Pomfrey is doing her very best to tend to her. I know that she will pull through. I also know that with the help of her—friends—” here she shot a meaningful look at Fabian, “there’s no reason she shouldn’t be perfectly fine in the end.” 

Oh, that bothered her - finally it was getting good. “Is it required, then? An escort?” he asked without skipping a beat. “If not, I’m fine to carry on like this, actually.” Amycus turned to look back out at the lake, trying to catch a glimpse of the hawk. Nothing yet, it was probably going to town on some rabbit. “Oh, yeah - Macdougall, was it? How is she?”

Anaïs straightened her back and did her best to look authoritative. “It is not required—not now, at least.” She summoned the years of etiquette training she had endured as a daughter of rich Muggle parents—for all it was worth—and plowed on. “However, it is unwise to dawdle about the grounds.” Macdougall? He really was foul. “Ms. Macdonald will hopefully soon be able to give a full recounting of the events surrounding her attack.” 

“Walking.” he nodded, an amused smirk appearing on his face, “Just like you.” It was funny, how she made it sound like he was breaking some law for being out by the lake. All he was doing was letting his hawk fly around for a bit, not that he was going to tell that to Professor Beauchamp - it was much more fun leaving it mysterious. “Do I need an escort to go for a walk now, Professor? Where’s yours?”

Anaïs’s eyes narrowed. “I do believe you forget yourself, Mr. Carrow.” She said cooly. “As I am both head of Ravenclaw and a teacher at this school, I do not require an escort to go about my business.” Her fists clenched at their sides, a subtle sign of her annoyance. “It isn’t a good time for students to be taking leisurely strolls, Mr. Carrow. A girl was just attacked.”

“Sorry, professor.” Fab quickly replied, cursing under his breath because of course it was a professor who had joined him in the hall. At least it was Professor Beauchamp, and she hadn’t given him a detention then and there like she easily could have. His face turned red, mostly from the embarrassment of a professor seeing him genuinely upset. “Yeah, that- Um, that’d be nice.” he added after a moment, “You can’t just tell them to let me in?”

Anaïs pulled out her wand, flicking it to produce two comfy armchairs. “Mr. Prewett...” She gestured for him to take a seat before gathering her cloak around herself so she could sit more comfortably. “Mary needs time to rest. To heal. That doesn’t include you, unfortunately. Think about it, she’s had a very distressing go of it. Her body is traumatized. Who would you be helping, if you went in to see her now? Would you be doing it for the right reasons? It might make you feel better, but it won’t help her.” 

“Hello, professor.” Amycus hadn’t taken Muggle Studies since his first year, so he never had the honor of learning from her, but he was certainly aware of one of the few mudblood professors they somehow let teach at this school. “Going for a walk?”

Pureblood Slytherins hadn’t changed much since she was in school, of that she was certain, seeing as she only left Hogwarts as a student eleven years ago. Thinking ill of her students made her guilty—though these were dangerous times they were living in. Seeing Amycus while she was completely alone felt dangerous. He’s only a boy, she admonished herself, just because he’s a Slytherin doesn’t mean he’s a bloody Death Eater. 

“Mr. Carrow.” Anaïs smiled as genuinely as she could. “I am, yes. What are you doing out on the grounds?” No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep the accusatory note from her tone. “All alone.” She added as an afterthought. 

Fabian hadn’t eaten a single bite of his breakfast before leaving the Great Hall. Now his stomach was growling, which felt stupid given the circumstances, and he was almost as annoyed with the noise as he was with the nurse who wouldn’t let him in to see Mary. She needed to “rest,” they had said, and he got that, obviously, but she was his best friend and now she had been attacked and he hadn’t been there for her and he just wanted to make sure she was okay. 

Now he was just pacing down the hall near the hospital wing, when he heard footsteps approaching. Fab didn’t even bother to look up at them before he asked, “How much trouble d’you think I’ll be in if I hex a school nurse?” he had meant it as a joke to help calm his nerves, but honestly… he was kind of considering it. 

A girl attacked... Mary. Anaïs’s stomach had been clenching and unclenching all day. An attack on a student under Dumbledore’s own nose seemed so bold, so brazen, that it terrified the life out of her. As a Muggle-born professor, how much protection did she actually have? If Dumbledore couldn’t protect his students, could he protect the staff? She felt guilty for thinking about herself and not thinking about her beloved students, who were obviously in danger. 

When she stumbled upon the Prewett boy (while keeping an eye out for anyone looking suspicious) she felt her guilt intensify, as she could never distinguish between the twins. Deciding it would be easier to stick to last names, she smiled kindly at him, eyes shining. “Mr. Prewett,” she said sympathetically. “I really recommend you don’t, as your head of house,” here she paused, a question in her voice. Was this Fabian? “I would be forced to put you in detention for eternity. I am sympathetic, though. Would it feel better if we sit here and guard the door together?”

A figure ahead of her startled her out of her thoughts, which she was grateful for. “Oh, hello.”