White Heather for Protection

The Boiling Toad

Heather stood in that spot, staring blankly into thin air. The silence in the wake of that rant was deafening. Eventually, she forced herself to walk back to the dungeons, distantly aware of the impending curfew. The journey back was a blur. The image of her brother's sneer was seared into her mind, his words on loop in her ears.

"Miss Potter," a cold voice said, "it is a minute after curfew, what are you doing out of your room?"

Vacantly, she turned her head to see her Head of House cloaked in the shadows of the corridor. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came forth.

"Miss Potter!" His face showed alarm, for what reason Heather didn't know. "Miss Potter! Heather, did something happen?"

She shook her head, surprised to feel droplets of water fall onto her hands. The clear liquid diluted the dried blood caked on her right hand, making a larger mess. Lifting her uninjured palm to her face, she felt the wetness there.

In quick strides, the man made his way right in front of her. Gentle hands took her bloodied one into their hold. In that moment, she broke and stumbled forwards into familiar arms.

Wrapped safely in the warm embrace, she cried.

~~~

The moment Severus saw the first tear fall, he started to panic inwardly. He had never seen Heather cry, not even during that disastrous occasion when he had accidentally seen her run in with Dursley. What could possibly have happened to her? Then his eyes honed in on the dull red mess on her hand.

He rushed forward, carefully picking up the appendage and inspecting it. He was able to see red gashes before Heather gave a pained sound and clutched the front of his robes with trembling hands. No further sounds were heard, though Heather now had her face pressed against the fabric of his cloak. His heart clenched at the silent sobbing that wracked her tiny frame.

At a loss for what to do (a common occurrence where she was involved), he gently led her in the direction of his office. Heather gave little reaction at the movement other than to press closer, so distraught she was. It was truly fortunate that they encountered no one on the way. There were few ways for him to explain the situation in a way that wasn't compromising.

Once in the privacy of his office, he tried to set her down into the plush chair she usually claimed for her own. However, she clung tighter still, reluctant to let go. Severus resigned himself to the situation and sat next to her. It was impossible to find a position which could not be misconstrued for something inappropriate, so he sighed and put the room on lock down. Even Albus would find it difficult to enter. He forcefully pushed aside the fact that locking them both inside the room would be even more suspect.

Sitting in the chair with Heather crying into his robes, however, would surely bring questions no matter whether the door was locked or not. At least now he would have some warning before any interloper were to enter.

Now that he had found himself in such a situation, he had no idea where to even go. He awkwardly patted her back, trying to soothe her. Perhaps he should just let her exhaust herself. He had heard somewhere that it was therapeutic to cry.

It felt like hours later that the shaking finally subsided. The tight grip on his robes loosened, though Heather remained pressed against him.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked softly. The tone came out oddly. His voice was unused to being so kind.

"...yes, thank you," Heather whispered hoarsely.

"Will you tell me what happened?" In truth, Severus had his on suspicions about the whole incident. Little could affect Heather Potter to such an extent. First on that very short list would be her brother. In fact, it could be argued that he was the only thing on said list.