Zenitopia

I knew when I woke up on the morning after my return to Hogwarts that either my uncle or Severus had dosed my tea the night before, because even the cradling effect of the mattress and the thick, soft pillows could not have granted me a whole night’s sleep while my left foot was still encased in plaster.

With the help of Mallow, who had been my dresser at the ballet company before my injury, I dressed in a black turtleneck and green wool skirt, and added a silver chain belt around my waist as an accent. We had to charm one of the legs off my pair of black tights, and I could only wear one boot, but with a deep green cloak over everything I was witchy enough to suit even the most conservative member of our society, and still comfortable, and able to move in my cast, the way I would not have been in traditional robes. My hair was pulled into a single braid, which I left hanging down my back, and the earrings I chose were the pair Severus had given me when I’d graduated from college in California, another lifetime ago, it seemed. Nothing flashy, green jade drops on silver French hooks.

As I made my way to the door I noticed a note on the desk instructing me to stop in and see Professor Vector for tea before I meet Severus. I sent Mallow ahead to warn of my impending arrival, shoved my wand into my cast, and grabbed my crutches, heading out to get my bearings. I was expecting to be near the Snake Pit – the Slytherin common room. Instead, I’ve been placed in an obscure corridor that has only one other door at this end, the entrance to Snape’s own rooms. I rolled my eyes heavenward at the Headmaster’s not-so-subtle attempts at getting us back together, and then repeated the gesture when I turned around to set the wards at my door. My entrance was marked by a portrait of a Degas dancer I used to fancy as a child.

I was halfway to the main corridor when a blond student appeared ahead, startling me. One of my crutches skittered out of easy reach, and the noise made him freeze. “Professor Snape?” a young male voice called out.

“Be thankful it’s not,” I answered. “As I suspect you’re not supposed to be down here.”

“Who’re you?” came the response, the tone mixing equal measures of arrogance and fear.

“Hand me that crutch and I’ll tell you,” I said. “Tell me who you are and why you’re here, and I’ll consider not telling your Head of House you were out of bounds.”

The boy collected my crutch and brought it back to me. “Draco Malfoy,” he said. “Fourth year, Slytherin.”

“Elise Foster,” I countered, reclaiming the crutch. “Also Slytherin, though not for many years. Now, why are you in this hallway?”

He was still innocent enough to blush. “Looking for you, actually. Well. Sort of.”

“Oh?”

“We’d heard Professor Snape’s old girlfriend was back. Wanted to get a look. Why is your leg wrapped in that stuff?”

“Take a look, then, Mr. Malfoy, and report that you met an ordinary blond woman who didn’t even draw her wand on you when you strayed into her path.”

His own wand was out, but I wasn’t worried. “Lumnos.” He uttered the spell to make wandlight, and did, indeed, take an appraising look at me. “Are we related?” he asked after a minute or so. “We look a lot alike.”

“It’s possible,” I allowed, which was technically true. If you go back far enough all wizards are related in some fashion. “But probably distant. Now, as I am injured pending the return of Madam Pomfrey, earn the right to secrecy by escorting me to Professor Vector’s offices. I wouldn’t want another stray student to make me slip.”
“Yes ma’am.”

He turned back toward the main corridor extinguishing the wandlight with a hushed “Nox,” and we made our way up the two levels of stairs to the main entry, and then up two more to where the Arithmancy professor kept her office. To his credit, young Draco made sure any passing students gave me a wide berth, and even knocked on Vector’s door for me, before securing his dismissal.

I made a mental note to keep an eye on him then entered the presence of one of my dearest friends.

“Elise Foster, what is that contraption on your leg?” Septima asked me as I entered. “Does it hurt? Is it permanent?”

“A cast. No, but it itches. And no, hopefully Madam Pomfrey will be able to do something about it when she’s back at work,” I said, taking the questions in order. “May I sit?” She’d never been the huggy type, so it didn’t surprise me when she remained seated.

“Please do.” She pointed her wand at one of the many chairs littered with scraps of parchment and cleared it for me. “There will be tea in a moment,” she said. “Unless you’d prefer something stronger?”

In truth, what I wanted was a mug of coffee, but tea would do. “Do you have those pumpkin pinwheel cookies,” I asked as I settled myself into the chair she’d cleared. “I slept through breakfast, and Severus implied there would be a meal after the competition.”

“Oh, yes,” she said. The tea came soon after, and the cookies with it. I took a bite of one, and was instantly back home.

“I love these,” I said with my mouth full, like a child. “I’m sorry, but you can’t get them at ho –” I started to say at home and cut myself off. “In America,” I corrected, after chewing and swallowing. “So how are…things?”

Septima ran long delicate fingers through her wispy blonde hair. When we go out to restaurants, people mistake us for sisters, or, less commonly, for mother and daughter, and we really do look alike: slender, lanky honey blondes with large eyes, but decidedly olive complexions despite being relatively fair. We are blondes who tan easily, and we both tend to spend as much time as possible enjoying the outdoors. “Things are…interesting. I suppose you know Harry Potter is here at Hogwarts.”

“Even in the States we’ve known that for years,” I confirmed. “Isn’t he supposed to be the wizarding messiah or some such?”

“Some think so,” Septima told me. “Myself, I think he’s just a boy with too much on his frail shoulders. Not that I know the child.”

“He’s not Arithmantically inclined?” I sipped some tea while she answered.

“According to Severus, he’s not educationally inclined, though admittedly the old bat seems to have a personal dislike of the boy. And speaking of Snape, are you two getting back together? He was bad enough when you were dating, and then when you stopped writing…I’m sorry Elise, but if you’re not taking him back, you should leave, before his hopes rise. I love you like a sister, but I have to work with him.”

I swallowed the bite of cookie in my mouth before responding, “I don’t know. I - he seems so much darker than I remember, Septima, and yet there’s still something.”

“And you haven’t been dating any of those attractive young men in tights you surround yourself with?” Her tone was teasing, but I knew she meant the question.

“Most of those young men are only interested in other young men, to be honest. And even if they weren’t…”

“Mercy, child, you still love the man.”

She made it a declaration, and I didn’t have to confirm, but I did. “I don’t know. I think so. But then I think I’m still competing with Lily, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

She opened her mouth to answer me, but a knock at the door interrupted her, followed by the sound of a student’s voice asking for input on a project. “You’re going to love this,” she whispered to me, before inviting the youngster in.

The door opened to reveal a small Gryffindor –garbed girl with masses of the bushiest hair I’d ever seen. “Professor, I’m so sorry to interrupt but there’s only an hour left before the tri-wizard challenge and – .”

“Breathe, Miss Granger,” suggested my friend, and the girl closed her mouth, apparently taking the advice.

“I should go,” I said, as I used one crutch to hoist myself up. “Thank you for the tea, Septima. We should have lunch soon.”

Septima nodded, and turned her attention to the Granger girl, but the child was now staring at me.

“You’re Elise Foster,” she announced, as if I was uncertain of that fact. “I’ve seen you dance Giselle, but I didn’t know you were a witch.”

“Well,” I said, trying to remain pleasant. “Now you do.” And I left the room as gracefully as I could.