White Heather for Protection

A House, a Home, a Heart?

"SLYTHERIN!" the Sorting Hat finally announced.

There was an awkward stunned silence as Heather made her way to the Slytherin table. When she sat down, however, the silence was broken and uncertain clapping echoed in the hall. The Gryffindors were staring at her with oddly wounded faces. She wanted to scoff at them; just because her parents were Gryffindors didn't mean she had to be too. Heather made to turn back to look at the rest of the Sortings.

And froze.

Professor Snape was focussed entirely on her, levelling the full force of his glare on her. His dark eyes, which had been teasingly derisive not ten minutes ago, now screamed murder and all sorts of torture. She'd be trembling violently if she wasn't petrified. An eternity later, he finally released her, turning away in disgust.

Woodenly, Heather watched as Fred and George were Sorted into Gryffindor. Inwardly, her thoughts were churning viciously. Where had this sudden hostility come from? He had known that there was a distinct possibility that she would be a snake. He obviously liked Slytherin a fair sight better than Gryffindor, so was it she herself that he took objection to? Heart clenching painfully, she forcefully pushed it to the back of her mind to ruminate over at a later date.

Absentmindedly, she stood with the rest of the school to hum along to the school song. She noticed that Fred and George were singing it at the top of their lungs. Backwards. The effect was horribly dissonant. Though to be fair, that wasn't caused solely by them - just exacerbated. Amused, she saw another redhead – probably one of their siblings – clamp their mouths shut.

Spirits lifted marginally, Heather waited for the feast to start. The Headmaster made a short opening speech followed by an odd series of closing words (Piccadilly. Zany. Hunker.) before food appeared out of nowhere.

Roast beef, filet mignon, mashed potatoes, broiled vegetables, baked chicken breast, fruit salad. Heather had never before seen so much food. There were numerous dishes that didn't even look remotely familiar. Everything looked scrumptious.

Much as she would like to taste all the rich foods that she had never been allowed, she knew her stomach wouldn't be able to handle them yet. (Stupid Dursleys.) Nevertheless, she eagerly helped herself to the chicken breast and vegetables.

All the other Slytherins seemed to know each other already. They were talking quietly among themselves and shooting her the occasional subtle glance. Heather ignored them all, content to catch up on eight years' worth of sustenance. Even though she and Hadrian had been sneaking food, bread and cold cuts did not wholesome meals make. She reminded herself to ask a house elf for some leftovers to send to her brother.

Meanwhile, she took a serving of pudding to finish off her meal.

~~~

The dungeons corridors were plunged in shadows. Sconces on the walls provided faint lighting, the flickering candles giving off an eerie glow. Heather shivered as she pulled her robes closer to her body. The temperature down here was dramatically lower than in upper parts of the castle.

The prefect leading them stopped in front of a random part of a wall. He muttered something too soft to hear and a section of the stone suddenly swung open.

Not just random then.

The newly revealed room was slightly warmer than the corridor due to the crackling fireplace. The windows showed a greenish plain view. Upon closer inspection, they actually appeared to be underwater. If she recalled accurately, part of the dungeons ran underneath the Black Lake.

When prompted to, Heather took a seat on one of the plush couches. Sitting next to her was a tall blonde witch who sat up so straight that Heather had to resist the urge to check for a back-brace.