The Ice Queen [s.b.]

Don't Let Them Break You - 58

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"You're babying me, Marls," Anna protests weakly, finally at the bottom of the stairs.

"Maybe," Marlene shrugs, rounding the corner to the Hospital Wing. "But we all need babying sometimes."

"Did Dorothy?"

The group quiets.

Thankfully, they can walk into the Hospital Wing before they have to figure out what else to say.

June 20th.

Poppy ushers her in. Emma and Wesley are the only one in beds, the others just pacing around the room.

"She has a concussion," Sirius tells Poppy. "And she isn't thinking clearly."

"I'm thinking clearly enough to know that you sound like an arsehole," Anna mutters just loud enough for Sirius to hear, but lies down on the bed furthest from anyone. In a corner.

Sirius doesn't dare follow. Now he gets what Ginger meant.

Dumbledore sits Ginger down and starts talking to her, her taking him through the story.

Lily walks over to Anna, sitting down in the chair, wordless.

Sirius and James watch apprehensively. Anna stares at her.

"I remember the first time I saw you and Dorothy," Lily says quietly. "I was trying to find Severus when I saw these seventh years mercilessly teasing him, a first year. Then I saw these two beautiful girls, my age, in Slytherin. Laughing. My first instinct was anger, because why would you be laughing? And then the blonde girl did a little wave of her wand and defeated the evil seventh years. The other girl started laughing when the Gryffindors ran away. They helped Severus up then walked away, without looking for any sort of gratitude. The next month, I started studying with one of them, then both of them. Two months later, the two girls, Severus, and I become virtually inseparable. I was very lucky to have had both of the girls."

Annalee turns over to the her other side, biting her lip to not let any sobs come out of her mouth. Instead, the tears pour out, the occasional sniffle escaping.

FLASHBACK, FAWLEY MANOR, 1968

"You are nothing but a disappointment, girl," Morenthius sneered. "You can't do anything right. Not even a simple, simple potion. You can't make a shot on a broom, you can't even fly in a straight line. You aren't worth the Fawley name. A waste of pure blood. You can do nothing. You might as well just run off to the traitor Black boy."

8-year-old Annalee Fawley started crying, sniffling, and sobbing. "I'm sorry, daddy."

"I am your father. I am under no obligation to be kind to you, but you must respect me, Annalee. Unfortunately, you were born a Fawley, so I am stuck with you."

"I didn't- I didn't mean to mess it up," Anna cried.

"Doesn't matter. Your mother is in the parlor. She will clean your pitiful self up," Morenthius commanded, pointing to said room. "You are weak, daughter. You can't even be yelled at without hyperventilating."

Anna nodded and walked quickly to her awaiting mother, her stomach still heaving with sobs.

"Don't cry, Annalee," her mother advised as she stroked her daughters cheek with a wet paper towel. "They will use it against you. If they get mad, you must get madder. If you seem weak, you will be killed. You have to look your father in the eye when he talks to you. If you are submissive, you will never be taken seriously. If you want his respect, never let him have the last word." Anna dried her tears, looking her mother in the eye. Aubrey nods. "Good. Remember, daughter. You are steel in a world of glass. Don't let them break you."