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It was the silence that unnerved her the most.
Stillness lay over the Great Hall as the new students filed in, little first-years entering in an orderly procession led by Mathias Avery, the Deputy Headmaster. The other students looked on from their respective table, exchanging a few hushed murmurs. Silence lingered over the Head Table as well, where professors sat waiting—where Harriet sat, teeth gritted, tension nestled in her bones.
The silence was one part respect, one part fear, one part resignation.
Respect from the students, who saw Headmaster Slytherin as a firm and severe man and a wizard of great power despite his youthful face.
Fear from his followers, his Knights who made up most of the Hogwarts staff by now, and who knew how vicious he could be and how fast he could draw his wand.
Resignation from Harriet, who had accepted the situation.
She had fought Slytherin, once. She had almost lost what she held most dear, and she had struck a bargain to keep it. Now she remained silent, biting her tongue, bowing her head.
The first-years settled in neat rows, mostly quiet, a few of them exchanging whispers as they took in the vastness of the Great Hall and the spectacle of the enchanted ceiling above their heads. Avery shushed them until all was quiet.
Slytherin rose from his velvet chair in an indolent motion, like a great snake stirring from rest. His red eyes swept over the assembly, peering out of a face that hadn't changed since Harriet knew him. He wore richly embroidered dark robes with emerald fabric lining the insides.
"Welcome," he said, stepping up to the lectern.
When Dumbledore had beenHeadmaster, the lectern had been winged, the golden metal sculpted to depict a phoenix taking flight. Now it was a snake curling in on itself to bite at its own tail.
"Welcome," Slytherin repeated, "to Hogwarts. Some of us are here for another year in this vaunted school. Others come here for the first time, seeking knowledge and illumination.I am Headmaster Slytherin, the master of this school. Here, you will learn what it means to be a wizard or a witch, to wield magic, to honor your blood.Your professors will guide you, and when you leave Hogwarts, you will have all the tools you need to thrive."
Harriet picked at her nails, only half-listening. It was always the same speech. He always sounded so bloody arrogant. But then why wouldn't he? He had won. He had everything he wanted.
Her stomach churned. She scanned the young faces of the first-years, seeking out one in particular. There he was. First row, his face pinched in a serious expression, listening to Slytherin with rapt attention.
Her little raven.
The pale blond boy next to him was Draco's son, Scorpius.That girl behind them was a Lestrange, the boy next to her a Flint, and on their right stood the young Rosier twins… Harriet could pinpoint the ancestry of all the new students this year.
There were no Muggleborns.
There hadn't been Muggleborns at Hogwarts for twelve years.
The Sorting Hat was silent as well. He didn't sing. He only Sorted the students, and did so with no enthusiasm, simply enunciating the House name in a flat, monotone voice. Avery called the first student ("Avery, Eleanor") and placed the Hat on his younger sister's head.
"Hufflepuff."
There was polite applause. The girl joined her table and Avery read the next student's name.
"Craft, Hugh."
"Ravenclaw."
Harriet sat still as the first-years were Sorted one after the other, smiles on their young faces and stars in their eyes. They didn't know what awaited them. They would be pitted against each other and would be encouraged to look down on those who would have poor grades. They would be ground up by Slytherin's machinations. Used as pawns. Indoctrinated.
"Lestrange, Cepheus."
"Slytherin."
And they would think it normal.
"T he bird fights the cage, longing for the sky, but if you tell its children they cannot fly, they content themselves with the cage. "
"Rosier, Astrid."
"Gryffindor."
"Rosier, Malcolm."
"Slytherin."
Splitting up the twins, and in those Houses? It was bound to create tensions. Harriet made a mental note to keep an eye on those two.
And then...
"Slytherin, Corvinus."
Her heart gave a kick, sudden cold frosting her insides. The moment had come. His face was grave as he stepped up to the stool. He had her wild hair, a mass of dark, untameable curls, and he had her nose, small and delicate—Lily's nose. From his father, he'd gotten the square jaw, the fine, handsome features, and the red, red eyes.
She watched him sit on the stool, his back rigid, his hands at his sides.
"I'll be in Slytherin, Father. I'll make you proud."
"We shall see."
Harriet was hoping he would be Sorted into Slytherin. If Corvinus went into any of the three other Houses, his father would take it as a personal affront, and he would make Corvinus pay for it. His heir, bearing the very name of Slytherin, descended from Salazar himself? He couldn't be anywhere else but in Slytherin.
The Hat brushed Corvinus' hair.
"Slytherin."
Harriet exhaled. Under the table, a hand sough hers and squeezed. She squeezed back. Strong fingers caressed her knuckles in soft, soothing motions. Severus was a comforting presence beside her—always there for her.
Through the turmoil of her life in this world of serpents, he was her rock.
She had almost lost him, twelve years ago.
The smell of spellfire rakes into her lungs the moment she steps foot into the corridor. It's a scene of utter devastation—debris scattered on the floor, the walls singed black, the air thick with the cloying tang of Dark magic.
Severus is on his knees, his face bloody, his one good eye slashed through. Slytherin stands over him, wand raised, ready to deliver the fatal blow.
"Wait!"
Harriet gets between them. She shields Severus with her body, facing Slytherin. His red eyes flash with anger and he bares his teeth at her. He's unscathed except for a thin cut across his cheek.
"Out of my way, Potter."
"Please… please spare him, Master."
"He crossed me one too many time. My patience is at an end. I have no further use for him."
"But I do," Harriet says. "You once asked me what I wanted. That's my answer. I want Severus."
Slytherin tilts his head, a smile twisting his thin lips.
"Don't," comes a rasp from behind her.
She ignores it.
"You want him, Harriet?" Slytherin says, the anger fading from his features as it's replaced by some sort of perverse satisfaction. "Ah, I should have seen it sooner… You're as fond of him as he is fond of you. Very well. You may have him. I will, however, require something in exchange."
"Anything."
"Potter, no," Severus croaks at her back.
She ignores him again. She will save him, no matter the cost.
"Anything," she repeats, meeting Slytherin's crimson gaze.
"You will give me a child. A male heir to continue the legacy of the Slytherin name."
"Yes," Harriet says, and thus she seals her fate.
She'd been twenty when she had lain with him, and twenty-one when Corvinus had been born. Slytherin had chosen the name. She had grimaced the moment she had heard it and Slytherin had grinned, delighted to see her distaste. It was a pureblood name, old and stuffy, everything she hated.
Harriet rarely used his name.
She called him 'little raven' instead. During the first few years, she had had the hope she could protect him from his father's influence. Slytherin had shown no interest in his son beyond a few cursory visits to assess his progress, and she had taught him kindness, compassion and all the values she held dear. But when Corvinus had turned seven, Slytherin had become more involved. He had taken the boy away from her for weeks at a time, to train him and forge him into the heir he wanted.
Corvinus came back from those training sessions with fire in his eyes, determined to make his father proud.
He also came back with bruises.
The first time Harriet had seen a purple mark on his cheek, her blood had ran cold.
"I deserved it," the boy had said. "I talked back to Father and I shouldn't have."
"You worry too much about him," Slytherin had said when Harriet had raised the matter with him. "He can handle it. After all, he is his mother's son."
She was losing him. He was being corrupted by his father's influence, straying further from her every day.
The Slytherin table welcomed him with cheers. Older students clapped him on the back, congratulating him. He looked at his father, seeking approbation, and received a terse nod.
He did not look at her.
The Sorting came to an end. Slytherin announced the start of the feast and food materialized upon the tables. Harriet filled her plate, then filled Severus' plate, asking him what he would like. He usually did not eat in public. When he wasn't teaching, he remained in his quarters, taking his meals there. He made exceptions for the Start-of-Term Feast and for the Yule Feast. He always sat on her left.
Meanwhile, on her right, Slytherin surveyed the students.
He never ate anything.
"Were you worried our son would disappoint me?"
"No."
Slytherin clicked his tongue.
"You were. You thought he might end up in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, and you dreaded what I would do then."
Harriet cut a thin slice of her steak and brought it to her mouth. She chewed methodically.
"You would have punished him for a mistake not his own," she said in a flat tone.
"Ah, you always think the worst of me, Harriet. I wouldn't have punished him. I would have torched that hat."
The words got an instinctive jolt out of her. He had changed Hogwarts so much already—had twisted it until it was barely recognizable—and now he was threatening the Sorting Hat?
"We need the hat."
"Hardly. Slytherin House would welcome everyone, the Sorting a ritual of the past.Your attachment to old, broken things is a weakness, my dear."
Besides her, she felt Severus stiffen.
"The point is moot anyway," she said. "He's in Slytherin."
"He is a Slytherin, despite your best efforts to shape him otherwise."
"I didn't—"
"You tried," he hissed in Parseltongue, turning his red eyes upon her. "You tried so hard to steer him away from his nature. But all your affection cannot stem the tide of blood. He is mine, and he will live up to his name, or he will meet a swift end."
"He's only eleven."
Slytherin turned fully toward her. He cupped her face, his long fingers too warm on her skin.
"We were both eleven once. The world didn't spare us. We suffered, and it made us who we are today. I will not spare him."
He was always more honest when they were speaking in Parseltongue. He enjoyed it, too. Whenever they had those private conversations, his eyes gleamed and he got more tactile with her, brushing her face, running his fingers in her hair. She no longer flinched at his touch.
"Corvinus is lucky. He has something we never had," he said softly. "He has parents. Parents to teach him, parents to guide him."
"To love him," Harriet said, defiant.
"Hmm. Love him all you want, Harriet. Your little bird is leaving the nest."
His thumb brushed against her lips, his gaze dropping to her mouth for a second. Then he turned away, and the conversation ended there.
Harriet focused on her food. She was aware Severus was vibrating with rage next to her. Sliding a hand under the table, she intertwined their fingers. There was nothing more she could do.
When the feast ended, she guided the Slytherin first-years to their common room. It remained the same as it had been during her years as a student, and she took comfort in that. Floating orbs of emerald light dotted the space while towering windows looked out upon the lake, dark waters churning beyond the frosted glass.
"Welcome to your common room. This is a place you will come, I hope, to think of as home. My name is Harriet Slytherin, and I am your Head of House and your Dark Arts professor. You can come to me for any questions about the school or the inner working of Slytherin House. Should a problem arise with another student, I encourage you to bring the matter to me. Your safety is my priority."
A little blonde girl raised her hand.
"Yes, Miss Fawley?"
"You have the same name as the Headmaster," she said, looking at Harriet with wide eyes.
"We are married," Harriet said.
"The child will be legitimate. You will bear my name when he comes into this world."
"I'm not marrying you."
"Yes, you are."
He had applied pressure, and Harriet had folded. One more thing he'd taken from her—her name. Because of how marital laws were set up in the wizarding world, he had gotten access to her vaults as well. He was using her gold, relishing her fortune.
It still stung, even after more than ten years.
"Mother," Corvinus said, approaching her as she was poised to leave.
She smiled at him.
"I'm so very proud of you."
"I couldn't be anywhere else," he said, echoing her smile, though it sent a shiver down her spine.
He smiled just like his father, straight white teeth glinting as the corners of his mouth twitched up.
"I'll be the best," he added. "I'll crush everyone else. And you have to promise me something, Mother."
"What is it?"
"Promise me that you won't treat me differently just because I'm your son. Promise that you won't be soft with me."
She could tell that concern came straight from his father.
"Isn't your father hard enough on you?"
"He's fair," Corvinus said, but in her mind's eye, all Harriet saw were bruises—bruises on his cheeks, bruises on his arms, bruises on his back. "You have to be fair as well. Promise me."
"I can't help loving you," she said in Parseltongue.
Color rose to his cheeks.
"Muuum," he whined, and there was her little raven. Beneath the perfect little pureblood that Slytherin had forged, her impulsive, tempestuous little boy remained. "Don't embarrass me in front of the others..."
"They can't understand us."
"It's still embarrassing!"
He bit his lips, glowering at her.
"Please, Mum."
"I will grade you according to your worth. Is that acceptable?"
"Excellent," he said, and he gave her the kind of self-important nods purebloods so loved. "Good night, Mother."
"Good night, Corvinus."
She went to her quarters. They were located in the dungeons, not far from the Slytherin common room. She was free to spend her nights however she wished. Slytherin might have taken liberties when they were in public, showing her some sort of tactile affection that she had to endure, but he didn't force her to share his bed.
All the same, she rarely slept in her own bed.
Tonight of all nights, she especially needed comfort. She knocked on Severus' door and he opened right away. He embraced her the moment she stepped into the room. She exhaled, pressing her face into his chest and wrapping her arms around him.
"I cannot stand it when he touches you," he said, his mouth next to her ear.
She tightened her hold on him. They stood like this for a time, breathing against each other, sharing warmth. Pulling back, she gently kissed him. Their mouths met and parted, then again, and again, Harriet depositing soft, plush kisses onto his lips. His fingers grasped the back of her head as he took control and slipped her his tongue. Low, curling heat pulsed between her thighs.
They moved to the bed, still kissing. Clothes were shed on the way, landing haphazardly on the floor. Harriet undid his numerous buttons one-handed while shimmying out of her robes, her fingers deftly flying down the length of his chest. He tugged her blouse off her shoulders and unhooked her bra. She opened his belt and encouraged his trousers to slide down.
By the time they reached the bed, they were both naked. He lay on his back and she straddled him, rubbing her hips against his, slicking her cunt against his cock. A low rumble of need left his lips. She bent down to kiss him again. She traced his face with her fingers, going over the harsh planes of his cheekbones, the curved blade of his nose, the empty sockets beneath his brows.
He had lost his remaining eye that day. Slytherin had taken his sight, and no magic could restore it. He tied a length of fabric around his head whenever he was out in public. He only bared his eye-sockets when he was alone or with Harriet.
"I love you," she murmured.
She kissed the tip of his nose as she ground their hips together. He held her face in his hands, his thumb brushing against her lips just like Slytherin's had—and yet the contact couldn't be more different. Slytherin's touch was possessive and tainted with condescension. Severus touched her with immaculate reverence, as if he didn't consider himself worthy to lay a single finger on her. As if every time she invited his hands upon her, he was worshipping at the most sacred of altars.
Slytherin wanted to own her.
Severus was content to belong to her.
His cock was pressed against her thigh, hard and thick. She grabbed the base of him, angled him right. He thrust up, into her wet heat, slipping inside her with ease. She relished the satisfying stretch of his cock, eyelashes fluttering as he filled her. There. This was home, more than anything.
Severus and her, joined as one.
Tensing her thighs, she rocked on top of him. Slow, unhurried. Enjoying the moment. He cupped her breasts and teased her nipples, adding more heat rippling into her cunt. She braced herself against his chest, fucking herself onto his cock, her pace steady and sure.
She watched his face.
Watched how it became so open in those moments, every emotion painting itself on his features unrestrained, his Occlumency shields down. And it was unfair that he couldn't look back. That he couldn't see her, her muscles straining as she rolled her hips, her face shining with sweat, her gaze full of love.
It was unfair that Slytherin had robbed them of this.
"Shall I describe it, Severus? The way she winces every time I push deep? Her mouth opening in a surprised O when I play with her pretty little clit? Or how she's closing her eyes as she's about to come, so she doesn't have to look at you when she crests on my cock?"
Curling her fingers over Severus' shoulders, she whined as she moved faster. Tension seized every muscle. A live wire of need glowed through her, winding tighter and tighter in her cunt.
"Ah, ah, Sev—"
She was impaling herself on his cock now, seeking more, fingers digging into his shoulders, gasps spilling out of her open mouth. Severus let out a growl, chest vibrating with the noise. Hips twitching up, he pushed his cock into her slick channel, driving deep, matching her rhythm.
He slid his thumb through her folds and found her clit. He brushed the rough pad of his finger back and forth across the sensitive swollen nub, stroking it until it felt like he had a direct line to the pleasure center of her brain. She curled up over him, her mouth at his throat, panting there.
Severus hummed, thumb working ceaselessly, grinding against her slick clit, sending starbursts of pleasure through her blood and igniting the very center of her.
"That's it, that's it. Come for me, Harriet."
She keened as she reached her peak. Her cunt grasped at him, fluttering in hard contractions, and he seized her hips and fucked her, moving her up and down his cock, the lewd slap of skin on skin filling the room. Ecstatic sobs flowed from her mouth as he gave her more, as he gave her everything, each brutal snap of his hips splitting her open, his throbbing length rubbing against her walls even as her cunt spasmed and spasmed.
God, he was so good to her.
Breathing shallow, he reached the edge of his endurance and let go. His hips pumped twice more in short, jerky strokes, then he hilted himself into her and came with a guttural noise. He spilled deep inside her in slick, warmth spurts. She made a small animal sound, something communicating pure satisfaction as she mouthed at his throat. He replied with another grunting noise and held her tight, his cock slowly softening.
He slipped out of her and she rolled to the side. He pulled the warm, heavy blanket over them, casting a cleaning spell in the same motion.
They cuddled in silence for a time.
"I'm losing him, Sev," she said at length. "I'm losing him a little bit more every day."
"I know," he says, kissing her temple. "You cannot blame yourself. Slytherin is more than adept at corrupting young minds, and the boy will seek his father's approval. You're doing all you can."
"It's not enough."
"No," Severus said grimly.
She sighed and nuzzled into his hair.
"I wished he'd listen to you instead."
Corvinus didn't like Severus. In his child mind, Severus was the one standing between their parents being together. He had asked Slytherin several times why he tolerated Harriet being with another man. Slytherin had replied a wise husband allowed his wife to have her hobbies.
"We could leave," Severus said.
It wasn't the first time he offered it.
"We're leaving."
"No."
"Potter…"
"I'm not running. Go if you want. I'm staying. I'll fight him."
Others had left. Elara was in France with Fleur, trying to convince the French government to do something against Slytherin. Hermione had disappeared two years ago while she was delving deep into Merlin's Repository, the biggest magical library in the world.
"I can't."
She couldn't abandon her students. Yes, she was playing into Slytherin's hand by teaching them the Dark Arts, but she was also protecting them. She was a voice of reason among the staff, and the other professors listened to her. In the hierarchy of Slytherin's world, she stood close to the top.
She also couldn't leave Corvinus.
When Slytherin had demanded a child from her, she'd been certain she would hate the baby the moment it came out of her. She had imagined handing it off to Slytherin, turning her back, and never interacting with the child again. She had thought it would be that simple.
She'd been so wrong.
She had hated being pregnant, but the moment she had felt him move inside her, from that first little flutter deep in her belly, she had bonded with her baby. When she had held him in her arms, her tiny wailing son, she knew she couldn't forsake him. She had raised him as if he had been very much wanted, and she had loved him no less than she would love a child fathered by Severus.
"You could leave if you wanted," she offered. "I'd make sure Slytherin wouldn't go after you. You'd be free."
"Harriet," Severus said, sighing as he shifted against her.
"Yeah. I know."
He wasn't leaving.
He would never abandon her.
Hope was a distant thing, and the world a dark place, but at least, here and now, they had each other.