Chapter 265: Commit to the Act [bonus]

The first Friday of December brought rare good weather.

Second-year Herbology met in Greenhouse Three. Professor Sprout spent the hour on Mandrake care, specifically how to stop them from climbing into each other’s pots for social gatherings.

When the bell rang, the young witches and wizards filed out of the greenhouse and started up the flagstone path toward the castle.

Regulus walked at the front, pace unhurried.

Cuthbert was on his left, head down, flipping through his Herbology notes, mumbling to himself, trying to memorize the acceptable root-length range for Mandrakes.

Alex walked on his right, wand in hand, tip pointed at the ground, idly tracing lines in the air.

Hermes brought up the rear, both hands stuffed in his robe pockets, eyes half-shut, looking like he hadn’t fully woken up.

Samuel and Lina trailed behind them, three or four steps back.

The distance was deliberate. Far enough that nobody would mistake them for hangers-on glued to Regulus’s heels. Close enough that a single glance told anyone they belonged with the four ahead.

Samuel carried two books against his chest. His gaze drifted to the back of Regulus’s head, then pulled away.

Lina walked beside him, chin lifted slightly, stride a touch longer than usual, but not enough to look forced.

They hadn’t always been like this.

In the early days after Regulus brought them under his protection, trailing behind the group had made them skittish. Too afraid to get close, too afraid to fall behind. Wanting to look like they belonged while having no idea where that confidence was supposed to come from.

Gradually, they’d found it. Learned the distance, learned the measure.

When someone like Regulus accepted you, you couldn’t look timid. Timidity reflected on him. People would see it and think: Why is Black keeping these two around?

You don’t think you deserve to be here?

Well, if you don’t, how about I take your spot?

So they’d learned. Steadier steps. Shoulders open. Chin up. Eyes that didn’t flinch away.

Their posture said it all: I’m with Black. I’m standing here because he allowed it.

All it took was a clear attitude, and attitude, held long enough, stopped being performance and became the real thing.

Through the castle doors, the light dimmed. The corridor torches hadn’t been lit yet. Only natural light filtered through the high windows, soft and pale.

Regulus turned left, toward the Library. Cuthbert followed. Alex and Hermes fell in behind.

Samuel and Lina’s pace slowed, a natural separation forming as they peeled off down a different corridor.

Walking together to and from class was fine. Sitting near Regulus at meals was fine. But you couldn’t follow him everywhere.

Outside the moments that called for a visible show of protection, you went your own way. Hovering would look wrong too.

Regulus had never spelled this out. They’d figured it on their own.

The two of them headed toward the dormitories.

After more than a year in Slytherin, they’d moved past the cautious boundary-testing of their first weeks.

Lina sometimes thought back to those early days of first year, standing with Samuel in a corner of the common room. Nobody looked at them. Nobody spoke to them.

Nobody bullied them either. They were ignored.

Nobody picked on her, because nobody cared enough to bother.

She’d thought that was simply how Slytherin worked. Later she understood: it was because she was invisible. An invisible half-blood in Slytherin wouldn’t get hurt, precisely because no one registered her existence.

But she wasn’t content with that.

Young witches and wizards sorted into Slytherin came with advantages. Pure-bloods went without saying; bloodline was the price of admission, and a good surname outweighed everything.

Half-bloods who made it in carried something worth noting.

She wanted to climb. Wanted to be seen. Wanted to stand next to people above her and look them in the eye.

Samuel was different. He didn’t want to stand next to anyone. He wanted to stand above them.

Lina glanced at him.

He was the most careful person she knew. Three steps ahead on every action, three passes over every sentence before he spoke it.

Sometimes she thought he was too slow. But every time something went wrong, she found out he’d been right.

They followed Black now. That was their choice.

They had ambition. They refused to be overlooked. They wanted to rise.

Black was the ladder upward, or at least the path that led to one.

They knew what following the heir to the House of Black meant.

It meant being seen. It meant having backing. It meant that in Slytherin, where blood determined your place, they wouldn’t be trampled.

The price was obedience. Getting things done. Stepping forward when the moment demanded it.

Fair enough.

They passed through a corridor connecting the main castle to the side wing. A few younger students leaned on the windowsill ahead, peering outside at something.

Samuel’s stride hitched.

Not far ahead, a figure leaned against the wall. Collar turned up, half his face lost in shadow.

Snape.

Samuel didn’t stop. Didn’t glance at Lina. Didn’t even change his breathing.

He kept walking, gaze sweeping past Snape the way it would sweep past a pillar, a stone, an object that had nothing to do with him.

Lina didn’t stop either. She matched Samuel’s pace exactly, eyes fixed on the corridor’s exit, never drifting toward Snape.

No exchanged looks between the two of them. Not a single telling gesture.

They had no connection to Snape. Inside Slytherin, half-bloods didn’t automatically know each other.

Snape stepped away from the wall and planted himself in the middle of the corridor.

Samuel stopped. Lina stopped.

Her right hand dipped instinctively toward her robe pocket, where her wand was. Her gaze left Snape’s face, sweeping left and right in a quick scan.

Samuel’s eyes left Snape too, flicking to the far end of the corridor.

On the courtyard side, a few figures stood clustered together.

Too far to make out faces, but the robes were Slytherin, upper years, standing there as though in casual conversation.

Their gazes drifted this way for a beat, then pulled back.

Samuel brought his eyes back to Snape.

Snape was half a head taller, standing two steps above them, looking down.

"Why is Black protecting you?" Low, with pressure coiled underneath.

Samuel said nothing. Lina spoke first, tone sharp, edged with impatience. "No idea. Why don’t you ask Black?"

Snape’s gaze moved from her face to Samuel’s, then back.

"You think Black is really protecting you?" His voice was even, deliberate, each word placed with care, half challenge, half insinuation. "A Pure-blood prince. Why would he bother with two half-bloods? You really think he sees anything in you?"

Lina’s eyebrows rose, voice cutting. "You think you get to manage Black’s business?"

Snape’s eyes narrowed a fraction.

Samuel spoke then, steady and level. "This doesn’t concern you."

Snape fixed him with a stare. One corner of his mouth twitched. "Black’s protection won’t last forever."

A measured pause, then he added, "Maybe you should start thinking about what comes after."

Lina let out a sharp breath through her nose, dripping contempt. "We’ll deal with ’after’ when it gets here. You’re standing here saying all this now, so who sent you? Yourself, or someone else?"

Snape’s expression darkened.

Lina stepped forward, right up to him, chin tipped high, looking up into his face. "If you’re asking for yourself, save your breath. If you’re asking for someone else, go back and tell them: they want to know something, they can come ask in person."

Samuel raised a hand to stop her, though he didn’t really stop her. His arm came up near her elbow, hovered, and dropped. "We have places to be." He looked at Snape, tone flat. "You’re in the way."

Snape stood there a moment, watching them. Then he tugged his collar higher, turned, and walked away.

The hem of his robe snapped behind him, kicking up a draft. He moved fast, long strides, head down, shoulders hunched, the whole of him like a sliding patch of shadow.

From behind, he looked like a small bat.

Lina watched his silhouette vanish around the corner before pulling her gaze back.

She glanced at Samuel. He was looking toward the other end of the corridor.

The figures there were gone. No telling when they’d left, or how much they’d seen.

"Gone," Samuel said.

They continued forward, turned the corner, entered another corridor. The light dropped away and torches guttered to life along the walls.

Lina slowed a step, tilting her head toward Samuel.

Her expression carried a hint of satisfaction. "Those lines back there. Not bad, right?"

Samuel considered. "Mm." A beat. "That bit about ’go back and tell him’ was a little aggressive."

Lina arched an eyebrow. "Aggressive?"

His tone was serious. "A little. But it worked. The whole point was making him think we’ve got nerve."

Lina smiled, the corner of her mouth curving up, then quickly smoothed it away. "What about you? ’You’re in the way.’ That was solid."

Samuel allowed a small smile, smaller than hers. "It was all right."

They walked a while longer. The corridor emptied out around them, leaving only the crackle of torches and their footsteps.

Lina slowed. Samuel matched her.

"Samuel." Her voice had dropped.

"Hm."

"What Snape said... what if he’s right?"

Samuel turned his head toward her but didn’t answer immediately.

Lina bit her lip. "I know it was an act. I know Snape was asking on someone else’s behalf. But what he said, that Black’s protection won’t last... what if?"

What if one day Black stops shielding us? What do we do then?

Samuel stopped walking and turned to face her. "The tasks Black gave us. Did you do them?"

She blinked. "Yes."

"Finished?"

"Yes."

"Did he ever say that once they were done, that was it?"

Lina thought about it, then shook her head. "No."

"Then there’ll be a next time." His voice was steady, certain. "He gives us tasks because we’re useful. Useful people don’t get thrown away."

Lina watched him, brow still creased. "What if one day he doesn’t need us?"

Same tone, same calm. "Then we find a way to make ourselves more useful."

She stared at him for a long moment, then laughed.

Her hand shot out and smacked his arm, the sound cracking off the corridor walls.

"Always got an answer for everything."

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