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Esmeralda Grisky stared at the blank piece of parchment in front of her, the weight of everything that had happened in the past few months pressing down on her chest.

Her brow furrowed in frustration as her quill hovered hesitantly over the paper, the words refusing to come. What could she possibly say to Lorenzo Berkshire, her best friend, the boy who had always been by her side? How could she even begin to explain the tangled mess of emotions swirling inside her? Every time she tried to gather her thoughts as they slipped through her fingers like sand.

It had all started so innocently, or at least, that's how it seemed at the time. They were only a few weeks into their fifth year at Hogwarts, and everything felt familiar, comfortable. Enzo was her rock, her safe space. They had always been close, sharing secrets and laughter late into the night, but something shifted between them, something neither of them had anticipated or were prepared for. One impulsive moment had changed everything, an evening that had started with harmless teasing and ended with the two of them in bed together. The memory of that night was still vivid in Esmie's mind, her heart pounding as she replayed it over and over.

She had thought it was just a mistake, something they could brush aside and pretend hadn't happened. After all, they had been friends for so long, surely, they could move past it, but in the days that followed, Esmie couldn't stop thinking about Enzo in a way she hadn't before. She found herself dissecting every glance, every touch, wondering if he felt the same confusing swirl of emotions that she did. She wanted to talk to him about it, to figure out what this meant for them, but every time she opened her mouth, the words got stuck in her throat.

And then, it all came crashing down. Just a few days after that night, she had seen him flirting with Katie Bell in the courtyard, laughing and leaning in close as if nothing between them had changed. That single moment had shattered her fragile sense of understanding, sending a wave of anger, jealousy, and betrayal crashing over her. She had never felt so blindsided, so lost. It hurt in a way she hadn't expected, in a way that made her realise she had been kidding herself all along. It wasn't just a one-time mistake. Her feelings for Enzo had changed, even if she hadn't wanted them to.

Since then, she had done everything she could to avoid him, too hurt and confused to confront him about what had happened. Every time she saw him in the corridors, her heart twisted painfully in her chest, and she would duck into the nearest classroom or turn on her heel to go in the opposite direction. They hadn't spoken in weeks, but, of course, Enzo wasn't one to leave things unresolved. He had eventually sought her out, cornering her in the library one afternoon, his brow furrowed with concern as he asked if they could talk.

Their conversation had been awkward, filled with long silences and strained attempts at normalcy. They had both agreed, almost too quickly, that it had been a mistake, that they should go back to being friends, but even as they spoke the words, Esmie knew deep down that it wasn't going to be that easy. Things had changed between them in ways that couldn't be undone. There was a tension now, a heavy, unspoken weight that lingered between them, making every interaction feel stilted and uncomfortable. They had both tried to act like nothing had changed, but the truth was, everything had.

She sighed deeply, tapping her quill against the parchment as she tried to figure out what to write, but no matter how hard she tried, her mind kept drifting back to the last few days, to the suffocating reality of her situation. Even if she could figure out what to say to Enzo, it didn't matter. She had no way to send the letter. Her mother had made sure of that.

The night before, her mother had forbidden her from using any magic in the house. She had locked Esmie's owl, Leda, outside and sealed all the windows, even her bedroom door, trapping her inside her own home. Esmie had been cut off from the magical world, from Hogwarts, and most painfully, from her friends. The summer holidays had been nothing short of torturous, and she couldn't wait to escape back to the freedom of Hogwarts, if her mother would ever allow it.

Her mother's sharp voice echoed from downstairs, yanking Esmie out of her spiralling thoughts. "Esmeralda! Come down here at once!"

Esmie groaned inwardly, reluctantly shoving the piece of parchment aside. She dragged herself out of her room and made her way down to the kitchen, her feet heavy with the weight of the conversation she knew was coming. As she entered the room, the smell of breakfast filled the air, but the familiar scent did little to stir her appetite. Her mother was already seated at the table, perfectly poised as always, a cup of tea in her hand. The tension in the room was palpable, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface, ready to break at any moment.

"Sit," her mother ordered, not even glancing up from her tea.

Esmie sat down at the table, her stomach knotting in anticipation. Her mother had spent the entire summer insisting Esmie would not return to Hogwarts, that she would be sent to a Muggle school of her mother's choosing. Esmie could feel the suffocating grip of control tightening with every passing day, and she knew this conversation wasn't going to be any different.

"I've spoken to Jack," her mother began, her tone clipped and businesslike. "And we've decided. You won't be returning to Hogwarts this year. Instead, we've secured you a place at the school we discussed."

Esmie's heart sank, her stomach dropping like a stone. "What?" Her voice came out sharper than she intended, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "No, Mother, I'm not going to some school in London. I'm going back to Hogwarts."

Her mother's gaze finally lifted, her eyes narrowing, "No, Esmeralda, you are not. I forbid it."

Esmie's temper flared, and she slammed her hand down on the table, "You can't just forbid me! I've only got two years left, and I'm finishing them at Hogwarts! All my friends are there!"

"I don't care about your friends," her mother snapped, her voice ice-cold. "You'll finish your education elsewhere, away from that place. You are forbidden from returning to Hogwarts."

"That place?" Esmie's voice rose, incredulous. "You're being ridiculous!"

Her mother's eyes flashed with something dark and bitter, "You think I want my daughter going back to Hogwarts? With that... that man still teaching there?"

Esmie froze, her mind racing to catch up, "What are you talking about?"

Her mother's lips curled into a cold, disdainful smile, "You know who I'm talking about, Esmeralda. Severus Snape. Your real father."

The words hung in the air like a dark cloud, suffocating and heavy. Esmie stared at her mother, her heart pounding in her chest, "W-What? What did you just say?"

Her mother's expression didn't change, her voice dripping with venom, "You heard me. Severus Snape is your biological father."

Esmie's breath caught in her throat, her hands trembling, "That's not ... you're lying."

"I wish I were," her mother said coldly, taking a sip of her tea as though they were discussing the weather.

Esmie turned to Jack, her heart pounding in her chest, "Dad? Tell me she's lying."

Jack sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping under the weight of the secret he had been carrying for so long, "I'm sorry, Princess. We should've told you sooner."

Tears welled up in Esmie's eyes, her throat tightening with emotion, "You've known? This whole time? You've both been lying to me?"

Her mother's voice was sharp, unyielding, "We did what was best for you."

Esmie stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor as she backed away from the table, "Best for me? You've kept this from me my whole life! How could you—"

Without waiting for an answer, she bolted from the room, her vision blurred with tears. She ran upstairs, slamming her bedroom door behind her as she collapsed onto the floor, her sobs wracking her body. How could they have kept something like this from her? How could they have lied to her for so long?

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Jack entered the room hesitantly, holding a folded piece of paper in his hand, "Esmie ..."

"I don't want to talk to you," she muttered, her voice thick with emotion.

"I'm sorry," Jack said quietly, holding out the paper. "I thought you should have this."

Esmie snatched the paper from him, her hands shaking as she unfolded it. Her birth certificate stared back at her, the truth printed in black and white: Severus Snape was her biological father.

Her world crumbled in that moment. Everything she thought she knew about herself, about her family, had been built on a lie. Tears streamed down her face as she stared at the words, her heart breaking.

"How long?" she whispered; her voice barely audible.

"Snape's known since the beginning," Jack said softly. "Your mother sent him a letter after you were born."

Esmie couldn't hold back her sobs any longer. She curled up on the floor, clutching the crumpled paper in her hands, her chest heaving with the weight of the betrayal.

As the hours crept by, Esmie's thoughts became sharper, more focused. She couldn't stay here — not after everything that had happened, not after the truth she had uncovered. The weight of the lies she had lived with, the suffocating control her mother had over her life — it was too much. Her mind raced as she thought through every possibility. She had to leave, to get out of this house that felt more like a prison with every passing minute. More than anything, she needed answers. Real answers. Answers that only one person could give her.

It was long after midnight when the house fell into silence, the quite broken only by the occasional creak of the floorboards. Esmie's mother had gone to bed hours ago, and Jack's steady snoring could be heard from down the hall. It was now or never. Esmie slipped out of bed, her heart pounding in her chest as she moved about her room as quietly as possible. Every sound felt too loud in the stillness of the night, every creak of the floorboards threatening to give her away. She grabbed a small bag, throwing in a few changes of clothes, her wand, and the crumpled birth certificate that had turned her world upside down. Her hands trembled as she packed, the weight of her decision pressing heavily on her chest.

She paused for a moment, looking around her room. The familiar surroundings now felt foreign, like a place she no longer belonged. Her childhood toys, the books she loved, the photos pinned to the walls—all of it felt distant, like remnants of a life that wasn't hers anymore. She couldn't stay here. Not now. Not ever again. The decision to leave was final, and it gave her a sense of resolve she hadn't felt in days.

Her heart raced as she approached the window, easing it open carefully to avoid making any noise. The cool night air rushed in, biting against her skin, but she welcomed it. It was a reminder of the freedom waiting for her outside these walls. Without a second thought, she slipped through the window, landing softly on the grass below. For a moment, she stood there, breathing in the night, her senses heightened by the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She glanced back at the house, knowing this might be the last time she would ever see it, but there was no hesitation in her as she turned away and started walking into the night.

At first, she didn't have a destination in mind, her feet carrying her almost aimlessly down the familiar roads. The Weasleys crossed her mind. The Burrow had always been a refuge for her, a place filled with warmth, laughter, and a sense of belonging that her own home often lacked. Molly Weasley would welcome her with open arms, no questions asked, and she would be safe there, if only for a little while, but something deep inside her urged her in a different direction. A pull she couldn't explain, one she couldn't ignore. It was a magnetic force that seemed to be guiding her footsteps, pulling her away from the comfort of the Burrow and toward the unknown.

Before she fully realised it, she found herself standing in front of a small, nondescript house. Its dark, weathered exterior seemed to loom in the shadows, blending into the night as though it had been forgotten by the world. The address she had scribbled in haste before leaving the house was clenched tightly in her hand. Spinner's End. Severus Snape's house.

The man who, until yesterday, had been nothing more than her Potions professor. Now, he was something else—her father. Her real father. The man her mother had hidden from her for sixteen years. Esmie's heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the house, uncertainty gnawing at her. What was she even doing here? What would she say to him? Would he even care that she had shown up at his door in the middle of the night? Her hand trembled as she raised it to knock, hesitating for a moment before letting her knuckles rap against the door.

The sound echoed ominously in the still night, and Esmie's pulse quickened. A minute passed. Then another. For a moment, she considered turning and leaving, but before she could act on the thought, the door creaked open. Standing in the doorway, his face illuminated by the dim light from within, was Severus Snape. His black robes seemed to blend into the darkness around him, and his dark, piercing eyes studied her with an intensity that made her stomach churn.

"Esmeralda," he said quietly, his voice low and unreadable. His gaze never wavered as he took her in, and she couldn't tell if he was surprised to see her or if he had expected this all along. "I assume your mother told you."

The weight of those words settled on Esmie like a heavy blanket, suffocating in its quiet finality. She swallowed hard, struggling to find her voice. "I — I shouldn't have come here," she stammered, suddenly unsure of herself. The boldness that had carried her through the night faltered in the face of her uncertainty. "I didn't know where else to go."

Snape's expression remained impassive, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as though he were calculating something. For a long moment, he didn't say anything, and the silence stretched between them, thick with tension. Finally, without a word, he stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter.

Esmie hesitated, the threshold feeling like an invisible barrier she wasn't sure she was ready to cross, but she had come this far, and there was no turning back now. With a deep breath, she stepped inside. The house was dimly lit, shadows lurking in every corner. The air was thick, heavy with the smell of stale potions and something else she couldn't quite place. It felt oppressive, the kind of place where secrets were kept hidden, festering in the dark.

As she glanced around, unease crept over her, settling like a cold weight in her stomach. Something about the house felt wrong, like she had stepped into a place she wasn't meant to be, but before she could voice her concerns, she noticed movement from the shadows. Two figures stepped forward, their presence sending a chill down her spine. Lucius Malfoy and another Death Eater, their faces twisted into cruel smiles as they looked her over.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Lucius drawled, his voice smooth and dangerous as his pale eyes gleamed with malicious amusement. His gaze lingered on Esmie, making her skin crawl. The other Death Eater, a stocky man with a cruel sneer, chuckled darkly beside him.

Esmie's heart raced, panic rising in her chest as the realisation hit her like a punch to the gut. She had walked straight into a trap. "I — I didn't realise you were in the middle of something —" she stammered, her voice trembling.

Lucius's smile widened, but it was Severus's next words that sent a wave of cold terror crashing over her.

"She's all yours, Lucius," Snape said coldly, his voice devoid of any warmth or humanity. He stepped back, turning his back on her without a second thought, as if she were nothing more than a pawn to be discarded.

Esmie's breath caught in her throat, her mind struggling to process what was happening. "What? No! No!" she cried, her voice rising in panic as Lucius and the other Death Eater advanced on her. Their hands gripped her arms tightly, and before she could fight back, the familiar, jarring sensation of being apparated away overwhelmed her senses.

They landed in a dark, cold room, the air thick with dread and the stench of fear. Esmie's legs buckled beneath her as they dragged her forward, her heart pounding in her chest. More Death Eaters loomed in the shadows, their eyes gleaming with twisted anticipation. Her breath came in shallow, panicked gasps as she tried to make sense of her surroundings.

"W-What's going on?" she managed to choke out, her voice trembling with fear, but no one answered her.

Lucius's grip tightened as he pinned her down roughly, his sneer widening. The other Death Eater stepped forward, a dagger glinting in his hand as he knelt beside her. Esmie's blood ran cold as the blade pressed against her throat.

"No! Please, no!" she whimpered, her entire body shaking with terror. Tears streamed down her face as she thrashed against their hold, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, but her struggles were futile.

Lucius chuckled darkly, his wand tracing along her arm with malicious intent. The pain was immediate and overwhelming, searing through her skin like fire as the Dark Mark burned itself into her flesh. Esmie screamed, her voice hoarse with agony, her body convulsing in pain.

"Stop! Please!" she begged; her voice barely audible between her sobs.

And then, suddenly, a commanding voice cut through the chaos, "Let her go."

Esmie's tear-blurred vision barely made out the figure standing in the doorway, but there was no mistaking the fury in his voice. Mattheo Riddle. His eyes blazed with anger; his wand raised as he strode into the room.

Lucius sneered, though a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. "The Dark Lord will not be pleased with your interference, Riddle."

"I'll take her to him myself," Mattheo said coldly, his voice leaving no room for argument. His eyes never left Lucius, a silent challenge hanging in the air between them.

Lucius hesitated, but after a moment, he released his grip on Esmie. "Very well," he said with a sneer.

Esmie collapsed to the floor, her body trembling with pain and exhaustion. The throbbing burn of the partial Dark Mark seared into her skin was a cruel reminder of what had just been done to her. Before she could fully comprehend what had happened, Mattheo was at her side, his voice softening as he knelt beside her.

"Come on, Emmy," he said gently, his hands helping her to her feet. "We need to get you out of here."

"O-Okay," Esmie whispered, her voice weak and broken. She clung to him, too battered and afraid to protest, her body shaking as he led her away from the darkness that had nearly swallowed her whole.

Mattheo held her close as they apparated to a quiet, secluded house, the disorienting pull of apparition fading as they landed softly in a narrow, dimly lit hallway. The scent of dust and wood hung in the air, and Esmie could feel the solid floor beneath her feet, though her legs threatened to give out beneath her. Her head spun, the physical and emotional toll of the last hours overwhelming her senses.

"Enzo?" Mattheo called out, his voice low but urgent, echoing in the silent house. His arm remained protectively around Esmie, steadying her as she swayed.

Moments later, the creak of a door broke the stillness, and Lorenzo Berkshire appeared at the end of the hallway. He was tall and strong, but the moment his eyes fell on Esmie, his face drained of colour. His usual calm and collected demeanour shattered in an instant as he saw the bruises that marred her skin, the bloodstains that marked her clothes, and the hollow, distant look in her eyes.

"Esmie..." he whispered, his voice rough with shock, his hands hanging limply at his sides as if he didn't know what to do. "What happened to you?"

Mattheo quickly explained the horrors she had endured, keeping his voice low and measured, though his words were laced with an underlying fury. Enzo listened in silence, his jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. Rage simmered beneath his pale face as he imagined what Esmie had gone through.

When Mattheo finished, he turned to Esmie, pulling her into one last tight hug. "You'll be safe here," he whispered in her ear, his voice soft but firm. "Enzo will take care of you. I'll be in touch soon."

Esmie barely managed a nod, her arms too weak to return the hug. Before she could say anything, Mattheo stepped back, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer. With a final glance at Enzo, he disapparated with a sharp crack, leaving the hallway eerily silent.

Enzo's breath hitched as he took a step toward Esmie, his hands trembling slightly as they reached out to gently cup her face. His fingers barely grazed her skin, as if afraid she might break. "Esmie... what did they do to you?" His voice cracked with emotion, the pain in his chest palpable as he took in the bruises that marred her pale skin, the blood that stained her clothes, and the dark, half-formed mark seared into her arm.

Esmie opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Her breath hitched, and all that escaped her was a broken sob. "S-Sweets..." she whimpered, using the nickname she had called him for years, her voice barely audible as she collapsed into his arms.

Enzo didn't hesitate. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, holding her against his chest as if he could shield her from all the pain she had suffered. His chin rested on the top of her head, and he pressed a soft kiss into her hair, his voice thick with emotion as he whispered, "It's okay. I've got you. You're safe now."

Esmie clung to him, her body trembling as the full weight of what had happened began to sink in. In his arms, she felt a fragile sense of safety return, though the terror and trauma of what she had endured still hovered like a dark cloud over her mind. She buried her face against his chest, inhaling his familiar scent, grounding herself in his warmth and presence. For a few moments, the world outside of this embrace ceased to exist.

But as they stood there in the dim hallway, Enzo's gaze landed on the Dark Mark that had been burned into her skin. The jagged, incomplete lines of the curse stood out starkly against her pale arm, and his heart twisted painfully in his chest at the sight. Guilt flooded him as though he had somehow failed to protect her from the world's cruelty. He ran his thumb gently along the edge of the mark, careful not to touch the raw, inflamed skin.

"Oh, Es..." he breathed, his voice filled with sorrow. "I'm so sorry..."

Esmie shook her head weakly, fresh tears spilling from her eyes. "It's not your fault," she whispered, her voice cracking as she forced herself to meet his eyes. "None of this is your fault."

Enzo swallowed hard, fighting to keep his emotions in check. He wanted to believe her, but the guilt gnawed at him, telling him that he should have been there, should have done more to keep her safe, but now wasn't the time to dwell on what-ifs. Right now, Esmie needed him to be strong.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning her face with concern. "Come on," he said softly, his voice filled with quiet determination. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Carefully, he led her to the bathroom, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist as they walked. Every step she took seemed to drain what little strength she had left, and he could feel her leaning on him for support. Once they reached the small bathroom, Enzo guided her to sit on the bench beside the sink. He moved with purpose, gathering warm water, towels, and healing salves from the cabinet, his hands steady despite the turmoil swirling in his chest.

He knelt beside her; his touch gentle as he began cleaning the blood from her skin. The soft cloth grazed her bruised arm, and Esmie winced, but she didn't pull away. She trusted Enzo completely, knowing that despite the sting, he would never hurt her.

"This might sting a little," he warned softly, his voice filled with an apology he couldn't quite put into words.

"O-Okay," Esmie sniffled, biting her lip as he carefully cleaned the gashes on her arm and shoulder. The water was warm, but the wounds burned as the cloth touched them. Yet Enzo's voice, calm and soothing, kept her grounded, and she found herself able to breathe through the pain.

"You're so brave, Es. Just a little longer," he murmured, his tone filled with quiet admiration as he continued to clean her wounds with tender care.

When he finally finished, he reached for his wand, casting a soft healing spell that mended the cuts and bruises, though the raw burn of the Dark Mark remained untouched by magic. He watched her intently as the swelling faded and the pain lessened. She still looked fragile, her skin pale and her eyes filled with exhaustion, but there was a flicker of relief in her expression.

"T-Thank you," Esmie whispered, her voice barely a breath. She looked at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, her gratitude palpable in the way she leaned into him, seeking comfort in his presence.

"Always," Enzo replied, his voice thick with emotion. His hands found their way to her thighs, and he gave them a gentle, reassuring squeeze before pulling her into another hug. For a long moment, they stayed like that, wrapped in each other's arms, holding on as if letting go would mean losing everything.

Eventually, Enzo pulled back, his thumb brushing away the lingering tears from her cheeks. He studied her face, searching for any sign of what she needed, of what would bring her comfort.

"Do you want to stay in the guest room tonight?" he asked softly, not wanting to pressure her. "Or... would you rather stay with me?"

Esmie hesitated for only a moment before meeting his gaze. "I... I don't want to be alone," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. The vulnerability in her eyes tugged at Enzo's heart, and he nodded, understanding completely.

"Alright," he said gently, offering her a small, reassuring smile. "Come on, let's get you settled." He led her into his bedroom, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. He walked to his closet, pulling out a soft t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. "Here, these will be more comfortable than what you're wearing."

"Thank you, Sweets," Esmie whispered, the nickname falling from her lips with a hint of the warmth they once shared. She managed a small, tired smile, the first glimpse of the Esmie he knew shining through the exhaustion and pain.

After a quick shower, Esmie changed into the clothes he had given her. The fabric was soft against her skin, and the warmth of the shower had eased some of the tension in her muscles. She felt a little better, though the emotional weight of everything that had happened still pressed heavily on her chest.

When she returned to his bedroom, Enzo was already lying on his side, watching her with concern etched into every line of his face. His eyes softened when he saw her, but there was still a lingering worry in the way he looked at her, as if he feared she might crumble at any moment.

Esmie hesitated for a moment before climbing into bed beside him. The bed was warm, and as soon as she lay down, Enzo reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. His touch was gentle and reassuring, his fingers soft as they tucked the loose strands behind her ear.

As she lay there, staring at him, the exhaustion that had been building inside her finally began to take over. Her eyelids grew heavy, and her breathing slowed as she sank into the bed. Within minutes, she was asleep, her body relaxing into the safety of Enzo's arms, her breaths soft and even.

Enzo watched her for a long time, his heart heavy with a mixture of emotions he could barely comprehend. Guilt, anger, and helplessness warred within him, but beneath it all was something stronger, something he hadn't fully allowed himself to acknowledge until now. Love. He hadn't realised just how deeply he cared for her until this moment, until he had nearly lost her.

Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment as if the act could somehow protect her from all the pain she had endured.

"I think I'm in love with you, Esmeralda Grisky," he whispered softly, his voice barely a breath. He knew she couldn't hear him, that she was lost in sleep, but somehow, the words felt right.

For now, that was enough. In the quiet of the night, as he held her close, Enzo made a silent vow that he would protect her, no matter what it took. He wouldn't let anything hurt her again.

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You know what, we are not going to talk about the fact that I am rewriting this book again (for like the fourth time) but I have made more changes - just to clarify, Esmie only got partially marked so she's not technically a Death Eater - prior to this chapter, Snape betrayed her to Voldemort and the Death Eaters (he knew she was his daughter for years but she didn't know until her mum told her).

For those who read before, Esmie and Mattheo weren't friends until later, but I have changed it so they were friends from the start. There will be some changes throughout this book, but I hope you like them and enjoy reading this book as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

Enjoy! Xo

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