╰┈➤ ❝[𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝟘𝟡]❞࿐ ˊˎ-
⁺⤾·˚.⃗.  [ᴘᴜᴍᴘᴋɪɴ ᴛᴀʀᴛs ᴀɴᴅ
ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛs] 𑁍ࠜೄ ･ﾟˊˎ
﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

The Kitchens
( October, 1993. )

                                      𝓐s they made their way through the winding corridors of Hogwarts, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the quiet hallways, they finally reached the large, inconspicuous painting that hid the entrance to the kitchens.

Ron, ever the expert (food connoisseur and younger brother to Fred & George), stepped up to the painting and tickled the pear. The painting swung open to reveal the warm, inviting kitchen, full of clattering pans and the smell of freshly baked goods.

The house-elves in the kitchen greeted them with wide smiles, their large, bat-like ears perking up at the sight of students.

Esme looked around, her eyes wide as she took in the scene. The kitchen was lively, with house-elves working to prepare the next meal for the students. Large pots bubbled over open fires, and the air was thick with the scent of bread and sweets. Esme couldn't help but feel a bit of wonder. The kitchen was nothing like she expected-there was a warmth to it.

Ron practically bounced over to the nearest table, eyes lighting up as he grabbed a loaf of bread. "You guys have no idea how long I've been dreaming of this," he said with a grin, already tearing off a chunk of the bread.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Honestly, Ron, do you ever think of anything other than food?"

Ron shrugged without an ounce of shame. "We're in the kitchen," he deadpanned.

Esme laughed, a small sound that felt unfamiliar but good. She was beginning to feel like part of this small, cozy group. She looked at Harry, who was now perusing a tray of pastries, and felt a warmth that she hadn't realized she'd been craving.

"You don't mind that I'm here, right?" Esme asked, suddenly unsure. She had never been in a setting like this with people before, and she was still trying to find her footing.

Harry looked up at her, his expression softening. "Of course not," he said, his voice filled with kindness. "We invited you, didn't we?"

Esme smiled shyly, grateful for the reassurance. She picked up a few biscuits, still feeling a little self-conscious but more at ease than she had earlier.

Ron, who had already finished off the first chunk of bread, looked over at her. "Hey, if you're looking for something sweet, the treacle tart here is amazing," he said, pointing to a tray nearby. "It's my absolute favorite."

"I'll have to try that," Esme said, her voice soft but genuine. She had never been one for sweets much, but there was something comforting about the idea of enjoying food with others. It made her feel, for once, like she wasn't so alone.

As they all settled around a large wooden table, piled high with snacks. "So Esme, I'm glad you came," Harry said, looking at Esme with a smile. "It's not every day we get to spend time together like this."

Esme nodded, her cheeks coloring slightly. "Yeah. I'm glad too."

They all dug into the food, conversation flowing easily now that the initial awkwardness had settled. Esme felt herself relaxing into the group, the weight of the day lifting as they joked and ate. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she belonged, and it was a feeling she hadn't realized how badly she needed.

As the laughter and chatter continued, Esme looked around at the group-at Ron, Hermione, and Harry-and realized that, despite everything that had happened and the doubts she still harbored, she might just be starting to find a place here. A real place, with real friends. And for the first time in a while, that didn't seem so impossible.

As the group wrapped up their impromptu feast in the kitchens, Hermione glanced at the large, ornate clock hanging above the door. "We should probably head out soon," she said, brushing crumbs off her skirt. "Everyone will be getting back soon, and I don't fancy getting caught. Filch will be making rounds soon."

Ron groaned, clearly not ready to leave. "What's Filch even doing in the kitchens? He can't tickle the pear. He'd starve before he figured it out."

"Better not to take chances," Harry said, though his tone was distracted. He was looking at Esme, who had been unusually quiet since they sat down. She was toying with a biscuit, her mind seemingly elsewhere.

"Esme, you alright?" Harry asked gently.

Esme blinked and looked up, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. "Oh-yes. Sorry, just thinking."

Hermione gave her a curious look. "About?"

Esme hesitated. "It's just... I've never really done anything like this before. You know, sneaking off to the kitchens, eating with friends. It's... nice."

Ron chuckled. "You make it sound like we're doing something illegal."

"Well, it's not exactly encouraged," Hermione muttered, though there was a small smile on her face.

Esme's lips curved into a faint smile, but before she could reply, the painting creaked open, and the four of them froze. A tall figure stepped into the kitchen, and for a heart-stopping moment, they thought it might be Filch.

It wasn't.

"Oi, what are you lot doing in here?"

The voice was unmistakable. Fred Weasley, followed closely by George, stepped into the room, both of them wearing matching smirks. Their eyes darted between the group and the spread of half-eaten snacks on the table.

"Well, well," George said, his grin widening. "What have we here? A little secret Gryffindor-Slytherin feast?"

"Esme Lestrange in the Gryffindor kitchen crew," Fred added, his tone mockingly astonished. "Didn't think we'd see the day."

Esme stiffened, her cheeks flushing. "I-I didn't-"

"It's fine, Esme," Hermione said quickly, glaring at the twins. "We're just eating. No big deal."

"Relax, we're only teasing," George said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Though we do have to admit, it's a bit shocking seeing a Slytherin like yourself among Gryffindor company, especially these gits." George joked, his tone light.

Fred tilted his head, studying Esme with curiosity. "How'd they rope you into this, then? Blackmail? Bribery? Some sort of elaborate hostage situation?"

"She's not a hostage," Harry laughed, his voice soft. "She's our friend."

Fred and George exchanged a look, their eyebrows raising in unison. "Friend, eh?" Fred said slowly. "Interesting."

Harry's ears went red, and he opened his mouth to retort, but Esme, to everyone's surprise, spoke up first.

"They didn't rope me into anything," she said, her voice steady despite her nerves. "I wanted to come."

The twins seemed momentarily taken aback, but then Fred grinned. "Fair enough. Can't argue with that."

George leaned against the table, his grin mischievous. "So, what's the plan now? You all sneaking into the Ravenclaw common room next? Or maybe the Headmaster's office?"

Ron snorted. "If Hermione had her way, we'd be sneaking into the library."

Hermione shot him a look, and George laughed. "Classic. Well, don't let us keep you from whatever mischief you're planning next."

"Though if you do need some pointers, you know where to find us," Fred added with a wink.

As the twins sauntered out of the kitchen, leaving the group in a mix of amusement and embarrassment, Esme turned to Harry. "Are they always like that?"

"Unfortunately," Harry muttered, though there was a fondness in his tone.

"Come on," Hermione said, standing up and brushing herself off. "We should head back before anyone else decides to wander in."

The four of them slipped out of the kitchens, the warmth and glow of their impromptu feast lingering in the air. As they made their way through the halls, the quiet corridors started to come alive.

The sound of chatter and footsteps echoed as students began returning from Hogsmeade, their arms laden with bags of sweets and trinkets.

Esme followed slightly behind, trying to keep her head down. But as they turned a corner, her steps faltered. A group of Slytherins stood near the base of the staircase, laughing loudly.

Among them were Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode, their gazes instantly locking on Esme. Their laughter quieted, replaced by sharp whispers and pointed side-eyes as they noticed her walking with Harry, Hermione, and Ron.

Esme's stomach tightened, but she kept her expression neutral, her chin lifting ever so slightly. She told herself it didn't matter-what they thought didn't matter.

Still, she couldn't stop the heat from creeping up her neck as Pansy muttered something to Millicent, who let out a high-pitched, mocking laugh.

Harry, walking beside her, noticed the change in her posture. He followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of the group. "Don't pay them any mind," he said, his voice low but firm. "They're just trying to get a rise out of you."

Esme shook her head, forcing a small smile. "It's fine. I'm used to it."

"Doesn't mean it's right," Harry muttered, his tone still bristling with quiet frustration.

"Really, it's no big deal," Esme said, her voice steady as she quickened her pace, signaling she didn't want to dwell on it. Harry hesitated for a moment, then dropped it, matching her stride as they pushed past the crowd.

By the time they reached the staircase leading to the Gryffindor common room, the halls had grown busy, students weaving around each other in the rush to put away their purchases and get ready for dinner. Esme stopped at the foot of the stairs, turning to face the trio.

"I think I better head back to get ready for dinner," she said, her tone light but polite. "Thanks for letting me tag along today."

Hermione smiled warmly. "We're glad you came. It was nice having you with us."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, not bad for a Slytherin," he teased, though his grin was friendly.

Esme smiled awkwardly, shifting from one foot to another, her gaze interlocking with Harry as he stepped closer by about a quarter of an inch.

Harry hesitated, then said, "You're welcome to hang out with us anytime, you know."

She looked at him for a moment, something unreadable in her expression, then gave a small nod. "Thanks, Potter. I'll see you all later."

With that, she turned and started down the corridor, weaving through the crowd. She didn't look back, but she could still feel the warmth of their company lingering, a stark contrast to the cold looks from her own housemates earlier.

As she rounded the corner toward the dungeons, she let out a small breath, her thoughts a whirlwind of conflicted feelings.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

The Slytherin Common Room
( October, 1993. )

𝓣he dormitory was eerily quiet, the distant murmur of voices in the common room the only sign of life. Esme sat curled up on her bed, knees tucked to her chest, staring at the flickering candlelight on her bedside table. Dinner had long since ended, and her roommates had all gathered downstairs, but she had chosen to stay behind, wrapped in the silence of her own thoughts. The heavy green curtains around her bed felt suffocating, but she didn't have the energy to move.

Then, suddenly, a loud commotion erupted from the common room below.

Esme's head snapped up. She hesitated for a moment before swinging her legs over the side of the bed, her heartbeat quickening. She crept toward the door, her bare feet making no sound against the cold stone floor. Carefully, she cracked the door open and stepped into the dimly lit hallway, the flickering torches casting eerie shadows along the walls.

At the top of the stairs, she stopped, ducking just low enough so that no one would see her. The Slytherin common room was alive with agitation, students clustered together in hushed but urgent voices. The normally smug and composed older students looked unsettled, their expressions tight with unease.

She strained to hear, but with everyone speaking at once, it was nearly impossible to make out what was being said. Then, a loud voice cut through the chaos.

"Sirius Black is in the castle!"

The words sent an icy shock through Esme's veins.

Another voice followed quickly-a prefect, her voice high and authoritative. "No one is to leave the common room. We're on lockdown per Professor Snape."

The already tense room fell into a stunned silence. Esme's breath hitched as she clutched the stair railing for support. Her mind reeled, and in an instant, her vision swam with flashes-images that weren't hers.

The snarling dog. Those haunting, gleaming eyes. The creature that had plagued her thoughts for weeks.

Then, another flash-a different kind of darkness. Cold. Suffocating. Dementors, gliding through the grounds like wraiths, their presence sending ripples of unnatural dread through the air.

It wasn't her own sight she was seeing. It was the dog's.

Her vision snapped back to reality with a sharp intake of breath. Esme felt her heartbeat pound erratically against her ribs, her body trembling. She could barely hear the murmurs below as her thoughts spiraled toward one, singular realization.

"Harry."

She whispered the name aloud, barely aware she had spoken.

Without another second of hesitation, she turned on her heel and sprinted back to her dormitory, throwing open her trunk and yanking out her cloak. She barely took the time to wrap it around herself, her hands shaking as she whispered a Disillusionment Charm. The cooling sensation spread over her skin like ice water, blending her into the shadows.

She didn't care about the rules. She didn't care about the lockdown.

Which was off for Esmeralda Lestrange.

Silent as a whisper, Esme slipped out of her dormitory, moving down the staircase with practiced caution. The common room was still alive with panicked murmurs, but she maneuvered past them unnoticed, her invisible form brushing past unsuspecting students.

With one last glance at the distracted crowd, she slipped through the entrance and out into the castle corridors, vanishing into the night.

Esme's heart hammered in her chest, the rhythmic pounding reverberating through her veins as she sprinted down the winding corridors of Hogwarts. Every step felt like an eternity as she raced toward the Gryffindor common room. Her breath came in ragged gasps, a mixture of fear and determination fueling her every movement. The usual quiet of the castle felt suffocating, the stillness broken only by the sound of her own footfalls echoing off the stone walls.

She wasn't thinking about the consequences, or about the fact that she was running through the halls of Hogwarts in her pajamas. None of that mattered. All that mattered was getting to Harry. She had to make sure he was safe. She couldn't rest, couldn't think straight until she knew for certain.

Her mind raced with images of what could be happening. The news about Sirius Black, the idea of the wild, snarling dog she'd seen in her visions-it all coiled in her gut like a twisted knot. Her thoughts flitted from one worry to another, but all of them led back to the same place: Harry.

For once, Esme didn't care about being invisible, about keeping to the shadows. Her usual desire to go unnoticed, to blend into the background, vanished. Tonight, nothing else mattered. She could hear her cloak fluttering behind her as she moved, the fabric swirling in the air as she ran. She was almost reckless in her urgency, her steps swift and sure as she raced toward the Gryffindor tower.

When she finally reached the Fat Lady's portrait, she skidded to a halt. The sight before her stole the breath from her lungs. There, scrawled across the portrait, were deep, jagged claw marks-furrows that had torn through the canvas, raking it open. The Fat Lady's once-lively face now appeared pale and shocked, her eyes wide with fear. Esme's pulse spiked. Her stomach dropped.

For a moment, she stood frozen, staring at the damage, the weight of it settling on her like a suffocating blanket. Her mind raced with all the possible reasons for the destruction, but in the end, only one thing occupied her thoughts-Harry. She couldn't afford to waste time.

Whispering the password under her breath, she stepped forward, her heart pounding in her throat. The Fat Lady grudgingly swung open, revealing the dim, empty common room. The absence of life hit her immediately. The air was thick with silence. There was no laughter, no movement, no sign of the students who should have been there. The fire had long since burned out, leaving only faint embers glowing in the hearth, casting a dull, flickering light on the room's stone walls.

The eerie stillness only deepened her panic. Her eyes darted across the common room. Empty chairs. Empty tables. No one. No one except for her.

She swallowed hard, her throat tight with anxiety. She had to know where Harry was, where the others were. She had to see him.

Without thinking, she dashed up the stairs, her feet moving almost too quickly to catch up with. Her heart raced in time with the rapid pounding of her footsteps. When she reached the top, she swung open the doors to the Gryffindor dormitories one by one, her eyes scanning each room with frantic desperation. Room after room-empty. The beds were neatly made, the curtains drawn. It was like a ghost town.

Her breath came faster. Her pulse quickened. Where was everyone? Where was Harry?

The urgency of the situation bubbled over, spilling out in the form of panic. She was starting to lose her grip on her calm, to fall into the whirlwind of fear and uncertainty that had been building in her chest.

And then, from somewhere down the hall, came a voice-calm, deep, and unmistakable.

"Miss Lestrange."

Esme's body stiffened at the sound of it, the words slicing through the air like a sudden gust of wind. She froze, her heart thudding loudly in her ears. She slowly turned around, and there he was, standing at the far end of the hall. Professor Snape.

His figure loomed in the shadows, tall and imposing, the dark folds of his cloak billowing slightly as he stood perfectly still. The dim light from the torches on the wall cast long, thin shadows across his sharp features, giving him a ghostly appearance. But despite the usual intimidating presence, something in his gaze softened when it landed on her. His eyes-always so calculating, so distant-were different now. There was no anger, no reprimand in his expression, only something that Esme couldn't quite place.

His voice, when he spoke again, was quieter, almost gentle.

"He's safe."

Esme's breath caught in her throat. Her body went rigid as the words settled over her, heavy with meaning. For a moment, she didn't move, didn't speak, just stared at him as if trying to process what he had said. Harry was safe? How did he know?

Her mouth went dry. "He's safe?" she repeated, the disbelief clear in her voice. She had to hear it again. She needed to hear it again.

Snape's gaze remained steady, unwavering. His expression didn't shift. "You're looking for Potter, aren't you?"

Esme blinked, her head spinning. "How do you know, Professor?"

There was no immediate answer. For a long beat, Snape's eyes seemed to search her face, as if seeing something there that Esme herself didn't fully understand. Then he finally spoke, his voice low and steady, as though it was a statement of fact, not a question.

"I just do."

Esme let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. The tension that had coiled inside her began to loosen, her hands trembling slightly as the knot in her stomach eased. Relief-surprising, overwhelming relief-flooded through her veins. Harry was safe. He was fine. He wasn't in danger.

The weight that had pressed down on her chest for what felt like an eternity finally began to lift. Her hands went to her face, her fingers brushing away the tears that had started to form in the corners of her eyes. She hadn't realized how much fear had gripped her until it started to recede.

"So... he's alright?" she asked again, her voice shaking despite her best efforts to remain calm.

Snape's gaze softened ever so slightly. "Yes. And will be fine. Go back to your room and rest. You'll see him in the morning."

Esme's lips parted, and a shaky smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. There was something so final in Snape's words, something steady and sure, that it calmed her faster than anything else could.

She inhaled deeply, feeling the air fill her lungs. "Promise?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her chest still tight with residual fear.

A brief flicker of amusement-or something like it-flashed in Snape's dark eyes. "Would I lie to you, Miss Lestrange?" His tone was dry, yet there was a warmth beneath the words, something more than just the usual sternness.

"No, you've never." Her voice was soft, a hint of gratitude in it as she looked at him, unsure of how to express the wave of relief that swept over her.

Snape didn't respond immediately. He simply nodded once, his gaze softening for just a moment longer before his expression returned to its usual calm severity.

"To your room, Miss Lestrange," he said, his voice commanding once more. "And Dumbledore will never know you were here."

Esme gave him a nod, a quiet murmur of thanks escaping her lips as she turned away, her feet moving slowly now, her mind still processing the strange encounter. She had been so desperate to find Harry, so consumed with worry, but now, there was only the deep relief of knowing that he was safe.

As she walked back down the hallway, she felt lighter, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. She no longer needed to search the Gryffindor common room or risk further intrusion. Tomorrow, she would see him. Tomorrow, everything would be alright.

Esme's feet carried her back toward the Slytherin common room, her mind still swirling from her conversation with Snape. Relief had settled into her chest, but the last thing she needed was to let her guard down now. She needed to be careful, to remain unseen. As she approached the entrance, she whispered a quiet "Disillusionment Charm," and her body faded into invisibility.

The dark, quiet corridor stretched ahead of her, but the nearer she got to the entrance of her common room, the more her stomach churned. She could already hear voices from inside-the soft murmur of conversation-but they weren't the familiar voices of her peers. No, they were the stern, commanding voices of the prefects and the head boy and girl. They were on duty tonight, all keeping watch due to the lockdown. Her heart sank as the full weight of the situation hit her.

It would be nearly impossible to slip in unnoticed now. The common room was teeming with prefects-eyes constantly scanning, watching for any sign of trouble. And the last thing Esme wanted was to draw attention to herself. She could already imagine how this would play out: her three roommates, the very same girls who had already made their judgments about her, would no doubt hold this over her head. One word from them, and she could easily end up in detention. Her mind raced. What could she do? There was no easy escape.

As she made her way up the stairs toward the Slytherin dorms, the discomfort in her chest only grew. Each step seemed heavier than the last, as if the weight of the situation was sinking in. She had no idea how she'd be able to face her roommates. They were already too quick to judge, and tonight's events wouldn't help her case.

Esme reached her dorm, her breath catching in her throat. Her hand hovered over the door handle as she took a steadying breath. When she pushed the door open, the familiar creak of the door echoed in the silence, the sound so sharp in the stillness of the room. But what awaited her wasn't the quiet sanctuary she hoped for. Instead, her three roommates-Pansy, Millicent, and Daphne-were standing there, all watching her as if they had been waiting for her return.

Their gazes were sharp, calculated. It was impossible for them not to have noticed. They were the type to notice everything, to keep track of who went where and when.

Even their next to silent roommate that they mostly just ignored.

She sighed, a sound of resignation escaping her lips. There was no escaping this now. She had been caught. The illusion had dissipated, leaving her exposed.

Daphne's voice was the first to break the silence. "Esme, are you alright?" Her tone wasn't as harsh as Esme had expected. There was concern, not anger, in her voice-though it was impossible to miss the undertone of caution.

But then Pansy spoke, and the edge of anger in her voice couldn't be missed. "Where the hell have you been?!" she snapped. "We're under lockdown, Esme! Do you have any idea how much trouble we could've gotten in if you weren't here by room check? Which, by the way, is in less than ten minutes!" Her words were quick, sharp, each one cutting through the air. "What the hell could've been more important?"

Esme's stomach twisted. She could feel the heat rising in her face as she stood there, facing them. The questions were coming fast, and she was powerless to stop them. What was she supposed to say? How could she explain what had happened, especially without revealing the details of her encounter with Snape?

"I-" Esme began, but the words caught in her throat. She didn't know how to explain without sounding like she was making excuses, without drawing attention to herself any more than she already had. Her breath was shaky, the weight of her guilt sinking in as she stared at the three girls, all of them waiting for her to answer.

Millicent crossed her arms, watching her intently. "What was so important that you couldn't be here for room check? You know the rules. We're supposed to stay in our dorms. No exceptions. Even for a Malfoy-or Lestrange-Whatever the hell you are," she pointed at Esme.

Esme's thoughts scrambled. She tried to push aside the sense of panic that threatened to overtake her. She couldn't tell them the truth-not all of it. Not about Harry. Not about Sirius Black. Not about the strange, haunting visions she'd been having. Instead, she let out a soft sigh, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

"I'm sorry," Esme said quietly, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. "I didn't mean to cause trouble."

Daphne, ever the one to find some level of understanding, softened her gaze as she took a step toward Esme. "It's just... you've got to understand, Esme," she began, her voice steady. "The rules are there for a reason. And we don't want to end up in detention because of you."

Esme nodded, her throat tight. "I know," she whispered, her voice small. "I just... I wanted to send an owl to my parents that's all." The lie felt thick on her tongue.

There was a tense silence as the girls exchanged glances. Pansy's eyes narrowed, but she didn't push any further, at least not for now. Millicent looked unimpressed, but she said nothing else, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. Daphne sighed quietly, her gaze softening, but the concern in her eyes hadn't fully dissipated.

Esme felt the weight of their eyes on her, their judgment-whether voiced or not-pressing down on her like a heavy cloak. It wasn't the first time she'd felt like an outsider, and she knew it wouldn't be the last. But for the first time in a long while, she realized just how much she craved something different-something beyond the walls she'd built around herself.

"I'll stay in the room now," Esme said quietly, avoiding their gazes. "Just... don't tell anyone, alright?"

The room fell silent again. It wasn't much of an answer, but it was all she had. As she walked past them and into her room, she could hear Pansy's low muttering, but she didn't turn back. It didn't matter. She was exhausted-physically, mentally, emotionally. She needed to sleep, to escape from the chaos, even if only for a moment.

As she closed the door behind her, the quiet of her room wrapped around her, and for the first time that night, Esme finally allowed herself to breathe.