Ariadne's Thread ⭒ h. potter

The Fall

When Ariadne got up the next morning, she was all too aware of the empty space beside her. She had been aware of it the entire sleepless night, of Hermione's light breathing to her right and nothing to her left.

Ariadne unzipped herself as quietly as she could, getting to her feet carefully. Not quietly enough, though.

"Where's Harry?" Ron asked sleepily, blinking up at Ariadne as he stretched his arms over his head. "Blimey! Why do you look like that?" He sat up quickly, indicating vaguely towards the direction of his own face.

Awakened by the noise, Hermione opened a single eye. She took a moment to reorient herself with her relatively unfamiliar surroundings before sitting up as well, peering up at Ariadne with concern. "Is everything alright? Have– have you been crying?"

"No," Ariadne denied, swiping at her eyes. Hermione looked unconvinced. "Yes," she corrected with a sigh. "I can't– I've made a mistake. A big one. And I think– I think Harry could really use you lot right about now."

Hermione followed Ariadne's gaze to the furthest point of the Hall, where Harry was being blocked from exiting by the Head Girl. He looked exhausted even from Ariadne's distant vantage point, running a frustrated hand through his messy hair.

"But are you alright?" Hermione asked when she looked back at Ariadne. The usually composed girl was a mess, her sleek hair tangled and smooth skin marred by dark bags under her eyes. But Ariadne only nodded.

"I'm fine," she pasted on a smile, hoping to assuage Hermione's worried stare. And she was, really. She hadn't been the one to learn life changing news about the murder of their parents, after all. Just the one to reveal it. "I reckon those two could use your help getting out of here though," she added, pointing at Ron, who had joined Harry's attempts to be allowed to leave. Penelope Clearwater would not budge. "Go on," she prompted. Ariadne could tell that Ron and Harry's ineptitude was weakening Hermione's resolve. "I'll stay here until Ginny wakes up."

She could feel the Hall's eyes on her as the students began to wake up, hushed whispers reaching her ears one by one. The feeling was familiar, from when she first began school, though they had waned with the support of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. But they were gone now, and as Ariadne sat and waited for Ginny's snores to abate, she began to realize that who she had by her side wouldn't change anything. She would always just be Sirius Black's daughter.

It was Sirius Black's daughter that got stared at as she was escorted on her way to classes in the weeks after the attack. It was Sirius Black's daughter that the paintings shied away from every time she got too close. It was Sirius Black's daughter that Harry avoided every time they passed each other in the Common Room, her throat tightening with each averted glance. And it was Sirius Black's daughter that McGonagall asked to speak with in her office.

"Oh," Ariadne said when she arrived, surprised to find Harry already seated. She shouldn't have been, though. Unfortunately, now that he wanted nothing to do with her, Harry seemed to be everywhere that Ariadne looked. "Hello," she greeted quietly, eyes facing the ground. She looked up briefly to see the look on his face. Nothing. It was utterly blank as held his gaze forward, his clenched jaw the only sign that he may have heard her.

"Have a seat, Miss Black," Professor McGonagall gestured, looking really very stern. Harry shifted away from her as she reached her chair. She'd have felt better if he yelled.

"There is a very serious matter to discuss," said McGonagall, expression solemn. "And it will be very difficult to hear. Sirius Black–"

"–is after me, yes," Harry interjected, tone almost bored. He's anxious to leave, Ariadne realized. He'd rather risk McGonagall's wrath than spend another second next to me. She looked down at her knees.