Chapter Two

As Ridley carefully stepped out of the carriage, her hand in Calvyn's as he guided her way to the ground, she couldn't hide a smile as her eyes caught the sight of the great castle. Hogwarts was undeniably home in Ridley's eyes.

As her feet reached the gravel, she thanked Calvyn and righted her robes. Stepping to the side so that her friends behind her could exit the carriage, she searched the growing crowd for any sign of Molly. Behind her, she could hear the familiar sounds of her friends' laughter and the tell tale grunts of rough housing. She was not expecting, however, the sudden shout "OHHH!" and crushing impact of a body colliding into her backside. Ridley flailed as she fell with her offender, and tipped dangerously close to another figure in front of her. The trio toppled over like dominoes. The gravel crunched beneath them, and Ridley was suddenly, although sheepishly, glad that she had someone else to soften her impact. She was not so glad when she felt an elbow in her back as the body behind her got back onto their feet, using her as support.

"Merlin's pants," groaned what she recognized as Marcus' voice. Of course, who else could it be but Marcus? "Guys, I'm sorry."

"Ridley!" she heard Molly's shrill voice not too far away. The body beneath her groaned, and she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks as she shifted herself away. Her immediate surroundings were exploding with sound.

Marcus was a guilty mess, "Bloody Hell, Rid, are you alright?"

Ridley too was a guilty mess, "I am so sorry, are you okay?" The figure on the ground in front of her, a young man with chestnut brown hair, grunted as he too made his way into a standing position.

Molly, was a mess of an entirely different sort. "Ridley Clarke, if you have injured, maimed, or—"

She stopped dead in her tracks, face frozen in realization as Ridley's victim turned towards the Head Girl. Ridley's stomached flipped as she recognized the boy, and cursed internally.

"Oh," the previous passionate tone drained from Molly's voice, "it's you."

The young man brushed off the dirt from the front of his robes, and stared down at the pair of girls from his impressive height. "It is." He punctuated his reply with a malicious grin.

Ridley's friend met the opposing boy's gaze head on, subtly shifting towards her.

"Funny," Molly cocked her head to the side, "I didn't see you at the prefect meeting, Collins." She crossed her arms over her chest, the picture of cool. "Term hasn't even started and you're already neglecting your Head Boy duties."

Ridley's eyes shot to the boy's chest, and sure enough a glinting, gold Head Boy badge was pinned to the lapel of his robe. Collins noticed her gaze, and shot her a satisfied smirk. She looked away.

"I heard you made Head Girl, Brady," he chose to ignore Molly's accusation, "but I couldn't believe it." His eyes became softer with mock curiosity. "Did you have to sleep with the Headmaster for that?" He flicked the almost identical badge pinned to her robes. She smacked his hand away.

A passing second year looked over her shoulder in shock, nose wrinkled in disgust. In a lighter situation, Ridley would have laughed. As it was, all she could do was try not to puke.

"No, actually. I had your mum do all that dirty work for me."

"Excuse me?"

"I figured she owed me one, what with me convincing my friend over here to tolerate her son's ugly mug for a good year."

Collins' face was growing red with anger, his fists tight by his side. "How dare y—"

"Wait," Molly interrupted, a victorious smirk growing on her lips. "Did she help you get yours too?"

Collins looked like he was ready to explode, when a sudden bout of dizziness hit Ridley head on. She swayed to the side, and mumbled an apology to Molly as she bumped into her. The Head Girl wrapped a hand around her upper arm, steadying her. Collins glared at her in disgust. "Is she drunk?"

Molly ignored him, instead leading Ridley through the thinning crowd, in the direction of the Great Hall. Collins was on their heels.

"You can't accuse me of neglecting my duties, Brady," sneered the boy from behind her. A wave of nausea was building in Ridley's stomach, and suddenly her tongue felt strange in her mouth. Collins continued his tirade, "when your friends are the ones drinking themselves off their asses."

A strong, commanding grip latched her around other arm, and she found herself being jerked around to face the fuming Head Boy. Instead of a surprised squeak escaping her mouth, however, something even worse worked itself out. The sudden shift in balance was enough to throw her over the edge, and with a last thought, oh no, Ridley Clarke vomited all over her ex boyfriend's Italian leather oxfords.

He was silent, and somehow the only sound in the world at that point was the sickening wet splatter as Ridley's supper made contact with Collins' shoes and surrounding ground. Behind her, Molly whispered, "Oh, Rid."

Mortified, she stared at the puddle of sick for a moment, before slowly raising her eyes to her victim's face. He was furious. There was a certain, fiery element to his eyes that Ridley had only seen a few times before that moment. She hadn't missed its presence. His mouth was set in a tight, thin line, and Ridley knew that he was only seconds from bursting.

In her head she could hear the countdown, not unlike the ticking of a bomb.

Three

Two.

One.

"YOU VOMITED ON MY SHOES!" Collins looked down at his feet abhorrently, flicking a chunk off of one toe with a brisk kick. Ridley winced. "Do you have any idea how much these cost?!" He threw his hands up in the air, "And now they're covered in your stomach acid!"

"Oh don't be such a drama queen," sneered Molly, drawing her wand from her sleeve. Collins flinched as though expecting to be cursed by the girl, but rather she casted quick Scourgify and stared at him placidly. However, a slight discoloration remained on the beige leather.

"Your crude spell work isn't going to fix this, Brady."

"Is there a problem here?" The slow, baritone drawl sent a shiver down her spine, and Ridley watched as the blood drained from Collins' face. His eyes went wide as they set themselves on the source of his panic. Molly, however seemed rather pleased. Turning to face the newcomer, Ridley found herself facing her Head of House, Professor Snape.

Collins cleared his throat and replied, "Clarke vomited on my person." He punctuated the remark with a withering glare, cast toward Ridley. She blinked, hardly bearing the strength to remain standing, much less retort.

"And you would vilify her for being ill?" the Professor pressed on. Collins began to stutter a weak excuse, his mouth gaping open, like a fish. The Professor's eyes were fixed on Collins and Ridley couldn't tell whether she imagined the predatory gleam.

"Now, Mr. Collins, I understand that the authority you are granted as Head Boy is something of a novelty," he sneered, crossing his robe clad arms over his chest, "however, you must realize that certain accidents such as these are forgivable."

"Accident?!" Collins screeched, finally having found his voice.

"Yes, Collins," Snape drawled, "or do you believe that Miss Clarke would intentionally assault you with bodily fluids?"

Ridley could feel her face getting hot. All she wanted was to settle into her dorm room and sleep until graduation.

Collins, meanwhile, was beginning to shake with fury. "She is drunk!" he shouted. Professor Snape fixed the Head Boy with a leveled glare. "Sir," Collins added.

Snape turned his head to face Ridley, still maintaining his greater height. It was rather intimidating.

"Miss Clarke," the words rolled off his tongue with an air of boredom. "Have you been drinking?"

Ridley lifted her eyes to his, momentarily anchoring herself in that moment on the intense darkness they held. She lied, "No, sir."

"Of course not." He turned his gaze back to Collins and gave him one more measuring look as he ordered, "Mr. Collins, make your way to the Great Hall immediately."

"But sir—"

"Ten points from Ravenclaw." Snape fixed him with a withering glare, "Or would you care to make it thirty?"

Red faced, Collins snapped his jaw shut and shuffled off, nearly bringing a pair of second years to the ground in his escape. Steely eyed, professor Snape watched the Head Boy scamper off, before turning his attention back to his Slytherins.

"Miss Brady," he nodded to her in acknowledgement, "congratulations on making Head Girl."

Molly glowed under the praise from whom Ridley knew to be her favourite teacher. Standing a little bit straighter she replied, "Thank you, professor."

"You may make your way to the Great Hall," Snape released them, stepping aside to let them pass through the throng of students migrating towards the Welcome Feast. Ahead, Ridley caught sight of Brinn, Marcus and Calvyn, the latter of which was looking at her expectantly. Molly was the first to move on, nodding to the professor respectfully as she passed. Ridley made as if to follow, however a heavy hand on her shoulder halted her.

"Not you, Miss Clarke."

Ridley's stomach froze over as she looked up at the professor. There wasn't any sinister intent that she could see written on his face, but she knew better than to take a Slytherin's word at face value. She quickly locked eyes with Molly who was waiting, confused, on the threshold of the castle entrance. Ridley nodded her on, and her best friend sent her back an understanding smile before following their group into the Great Hall.

"If you will follow me," Snape intoned, with his typical lack of emotion. The thinning group of students in front of the castle parted easily for the brooding professor, and Ridley in tow struggled to keep up with his long strides. In front of her, the intimidating figure of the potions master had a certain grace as he walked, his black robes streaming behind him in his wake. To her surprise, the professor walked past the Great Hall, and rather continued through the corridor before taking a left, down a staircase. They were headed toward the dungeons.

Ridley felt her anxiety peak. Was she going to be punished?

She couldn't sense any malice in her Head of House, however. In fact, he seemed as level headed as she was accustomed to seeing him in any other regular circumstance.

The pair's footsteps echoed off the stones walls, and the overall quietness of the castle was unnerving. She'd never missed a sorting ceremony, or a welcoming feast for that matter. Although, she thought, she didn't exactly yearn for the experience presently.

The air temperature steadily fell as they descended, and eventually the winding staircase came to an end. Stepping out into the shadowy dungeon, Ridley shivered, cursing the uncommonly cold autumn. In the flickering light of the torches along the corridor, she saw the potions master cast her a contemplative look, before striding off again.

Recognizing the direction they were taking, Ridley became more and more convinced that she was about to receive something of a slap on the wrist.

Any minute now they were gonna reach Snape's office.

Any minute now.

But they didn't.

Because the professor's game of follow the leader was cut short as it brought them instead to the hidden entrance to the Slytherin common room.

As the professor came to a halt, Ridley nearly ran into him, confused as to what his game was. Snape caught on to her confusion, and held her gaze, daring her to voice her thoughts. After a moment of silence, he announced the password, "Manticore". The stone wall parted, revealing a dim passage into the common room beyond.

"But, sir," she started, suddenly bewildered by his leniency. She didn't believe for a second that he thought her merely ill. He fixed her with a stony look and interrupted, "Miss Clarke, while I appreciate your enthusiasm," he drew out the word, though his tone suggested it sickened him, "to start your final year at Hogwarts,"

Ridley looked down at her feet, hiding her reddening face. The professor continued, "I would not have thought it would be one of my upper year students, who I would expect to know better by now, that I would find intoxicated before term had even begun."

There was a tense moment of silence, and Ridley shuffled her feet. "My apologies, professor."

"You're not entirely dimwitted, Miss Clarke," he drawled, as Ridley finally met his eyes. "At least do your house the favour of not acting as such."

"Of course, sir." She almost wished that he were yelling at her. His words were said without contempt, but there was a certain note of disappointment in his voice, just barely palpable, and it perhaps felt worse. She hadn't considered how her actions would affect her Head of House, or even Slytherin as a whole. The house wasn't exactly in the favour of the wizarding world presently, and it made her sick to think that she was encouraging that shared opinion.

Another contemplative silence stretched between the professor and his student before he announced, "You are dismissed, Clarke."

Ridley nodded in acknowledgement, and turned away from the dark figure. She had just begun to make her way down the dim passage before she heard Snape's call, "And if you show up to my class hungover tomorrow morning, understand that it will be the last potions class you shall ever attend at Hogwarts."

"Understood, professor," she called back over her shoulder, watching his silhouette disappear as the common room entrance resealed itself. Absentmindedly, she smirked to herself as she emerged in the desolate common room, with it's green aura and cold air. At least she knew she made it into Snape's exclusively NEWT students' potions class.