Chapter 2 — Shadows of the Past
Talia
The Slytherin common room was just as Talia had left it: dimly lit, its enchanted, underwater windows casting verdant ripples across ancient stone walls. The faint, ambient rush of the Black Lake seeped into the room, steady yet oppressive, like the weight of her own thoughts. She sat in one of the leather armchairs near the fireplace, her posture poised but stiff, her fingers twisting the Silver Serpent Ring in unconscious rhythm. Its faint warmth pressed against her skin, steady but offering little solace tonight.
The room buzzed with muted activity. Small clusters of students whispered in shadowed corners, their quiet conversations laced with the undertones of calculated schemes. Draco Malfoy lounged in his usual seat by the fire, his sharp laughter cutting through the low murmur. His platinum hair gleamed in the greenish light, a crown for his ever-present air of smug authority.
Talia’s gaze slid past him, searching for distraction, but her mind had already begun to betray her. Memory, insidious and unwelcome, clawed its way to the surface.
---
The echo of her shoes against the stone corridor had filled her ears that evening. It had been her third year, just after curfew. The library torches had flickered low as she’d slipped out, her arms laden with books. She was alone. Always alone.
The laughter hit her just before the shoulder did.
“Watch it, Zabini,” Theo’s voice had murmured, low and even, but laced with precision-cut disdain. His shoulder collided with hers, sending her stumbling. Her books fell in a cascade, parchment scattering like brittle leaves across the cold stone floor.
Her knees hit the ground next, the impact jarring. She scrambled to gather her things, her fingers fumbling with the edges of a page.
“Careful, Nott,” Draco’s voice had sounded then, casual and cutting, as he leaned lazily against the wall nearby. “We wouldn’t want her polluting the hallway with her clumsiness.”
The laughter that followed wasn’t loud, but each note was razor-sharp, slicing into her ribs. She’d swallowed the lump in her throat, blinking hard against the sting of humiliation. Her hands had trembled as they grasped for her books, her head bowed to the stone. She didn’t look at them. She didn’t dare.
Theo hadn’t even paused.
---
“Talia.”
Daisy’s bright voice cut through the memory, snapping her back into the present. Talia’s eyes flew open, meeting Daisy’s concerned green gaze. Perched on the armrest of the adjacent chair, Daisy leaned forward, her red curls framing her face in a firelit halo. The warmth of her presence was grounding, even as Talia struggled to regain her composure.
“You alright?” Daisy asked, tilting her head. “You’ve been staring into space like you’re plotting the downfall of every Malfoy to ever exist—which, for the record, I fully support.”
Talia let out a small, strained laugh. “Just… thinking.”
Daisy’s freckled face scrunched in mock suspicion. “About what? Malfoy’s stupid hair? Or—” Her voice dipped conspiratorially. “Theo bloody Nott?”
The name made Talia stiffen, her jaw tightening before she could mask her reaction. Too late. Daisy caught it, her eyes narrowing with exaggerated theatrics. “Ah, I knew it!” she groaned, throwing herself back with a dramatic flair. “Look, Talia, he’s a git. A very handsome git, sure, but still a complete and utter one. Don’t let him get under your skin.”
“He’s not,” Talia said, her voice sharper than she intended. She exhaled slowly, forcing a softer tone. “I just don’t want to fall back into old patterns, that’s all.”
Daisy’s teasing expression shifted, the humor fading from her eyes. Her voice gentled. “You won’t,” she said firmly. “You’re not the same person you were back then, Talia. Trust me.” She paused, her tone brightening again. “And if anyone says otherwise, I’ll hex them so hard they’ll be picking splinters out of their robes for weeks.”
A reluctant laugh escaped Talia’s lips, the knot in her chest loosening slightly. “Thanks,” she murmured.
“Anytime,” Daisy replied with a wink. Then, lowering her voice to a whisper, she said, “By the way, Malfoy’s been staring at you for the past five minutes. I think he’s trying to decide whether he’s impressed or terrified. Probably both.”
Talia glanced toward the fireplace and, sure enough, Draco’s sharp gray eyes were fixed on her. His expression was unreadable, colder than his usual sneer, as though he was assessing her, dissecting her. When their gazes met, his lips curved faintly, testing her reaction.
Talia tilted her head slightly, her face impassive, before looking away.
“See?” Daisy whispered, her grin irrepressible. “Intimidated.”
Talia chuckled softly, the warmth of Daisy’s humor steadying her. It was enough to distract her—at least until the door to the dormitories creaked open.
Theo stepped into the room.
His presence was like a shift in the atmosphere, subtle but undeniable. The shadows seemed to part as he moved with unhurried grace, his dark hair slightly mussed, as though he’d recently run a hand through it. His icy blue eyes swept the room, pausing briefly on Draco before they flicked—inevitably—to her.
Talia froze. Her fingers curled into the arms of her chair, nails pressing against the leather. Though her face remained composed, her chest tightened like a bowstring drawn taut. The memory of his voice, his laughter, scraped against her ribs, raw and unrelenting.
His gaze lingered on her a heartbeat too long before he turned, crossing the room to sit beside Draco. They exchanged low words, their conversation a murmur that carried just out of reach. Whatever Theo said made Draco smirk, his attention flicking briefly to Talia before returning to Theo.
Daisy leaned closer, her voice a low mutter. “Want me to accidentally trip him on his way out? I could make it look convincing.”
Talia’s lips twitched despite herself. “No,” she said softly. “Leave it.”
Theo didn’t glance her way again, but the tension in the air remained, coiled and heavy.
“Talia,” Draco’s voice cut through the room, sharp and deliberate. “You’re awfully quiet tonight. Something on your mind? Or is the new-and-improved Zabini too good for the rest of us now?”
The room stilled. Every gaze turned to her, the air thick with anticipation. Theo’s head lifted, his expression unreadable but uncomfortably intent.
Talia rose slowly, smoothing her robes with deliberate precision. “Nothing on my mind, Malfoy,” she said, her voice smooth and measured, though steel underpinned each syllable. “But I do wonder—do you ever get tired of the sound of your own voice?”
A ripple of laughter coursed through the room, sharp and scattered. A younger student near the shadows failed to stifle his snicker. Draco’s smirk faltered—barely—but his pale cheeks tinged pink for the briefest moment before he leaned back, feigning indifference.
“When I speak, people listen,” he drawled. “Can’t say the same for everyone.”
“Maybe they shouldn’t,” Talia said evenly, her hazel eyes locking onto his. “They might find there’s nothing worth hearing.”
The laughter grew louder, Daisy’s snicker the most unapologetic of them all. Draco’s gray eyes sharpened, his smirk turning frostier. “Careful, Zabini,” he said, his voice low and cold. “You’re walking a fine line.”
“I’ve walked finer,” she replied, her words slicing like a blade. Without waiting for his response, she turned, her steps deliberate as she left the room.
The dormitory was quiet when she entered. Talia leaned against the door, her chest heaving softly as the tension began to unravel. Her hand pressed against her chest, over the Star-Touched Pendant. Its faint warmth pulsed gently, grounding her.
For a moment, she allowed herself to falter, her breath shaky in the silence. The weight of the day pressed against her shoulders, but she straightened, her fingers brushing over the pendant and the Silver Serpent Ring in turn.
“You’re not that girl anymore,” she whispered, the words firm despite the tremor in her voice.
The pendant glowed faintly in response, a quiet reassurance. And as she let its warmth wash over her, she almost believed it.
