Annabel Lee

Severus’s Point of View

It had been a week since Annabelle passed out. Again. She told us it she simply hadn't slept well the night before. The rest of us didn't really believe her, but when Narcissa spoke up and said that she had a nightmare some of us were convinced. It was currently late at night but before curfew, I wouldn't stay out too late. Something had been eating at Annabelle all day, she wouldn't tell me what though; I told her she could bloody write it down for all I cared. But she wouldn't.

So I took it upon myself to go looking for her when Narcissa told me she had disappeared after classes. It wasn't because I was worried; no, that wasn't it in the least. Even though Annabelle and I had bonded spent more time together than usual, it didn't mean anything.

It was just that we had gotten a little more comfortable around each other than before we said what we did at the Quidditch match. We were better friends. I walked into the desolate library room where Annabelle was sitting calmly, but not peacefully.

If you had time to take your eyes away from her endearing lip-biting you would notice her eyes searching wildly across the book she had open.

Did she even notice when I sat down in the chair opposite her? Only slightly, she lifted her eyes for about a millisecond to smile at me before going back to her reading.

At morn- at noon- at twilight dim-
Maria! thou hast heard my hymn!
In joy and woe- in good and ill-
Mother of God, be with me still!
When the hours flew brightly by,
And not a cloud obscured the sky,
My soul, lest it should truant be,
Thy grace did guide to thine and thee;
Now, when storms of Fate o'ercast
Darkly my Present and my Past,
Let my Future radiant shine
With sweet hopes of thee and thine!

The minute my eyes read the dot in the exclamation point the book closed and Annabelle was staring at me in confusion. I felt red patches appear on my cheeks.

"What are you doing out late?" I asked in a low voice and her lips curled up in a delightful smile. She pointed to her book.

"Just reading," she whispered unknowingly rubbing her thumb on the cover. It was still pearl white like the day my mother bought it for me. Annabelle was keeping it in impeccable condition.

"You alright? You've been really out of it," I scowled, running a hand through my hair observing it. She forced out a small laugh before letting her eyes fall back on the novel. I frowned and reached over to the book flipping through it, the spine no longer crackled with inexperience.

A picture fell to the table of a woman not near thirty with perfect blonde hair and a winning smile. A faded black eye covered her right eye, which was her left to me, but didn't make her blue eyes any less brilliant.

I saw Annabelle flinch looking at the picture.

I my stomach roll up in a knot. She looked like my mother did with those lost bruises. But she held a small baby in her arms. She looked just like the woman, a small bit of blonde hair and pale skin. Too bad her eyes were closed; I wanted to see if she had the same eyes.

Annabelle reached over and ran her hand over picture, her eyes watering as she smiled.

"That's my mother," She spoke up, her voice unusually quiet. Slowly she took the picture from me and put it back in the book. I lowered my head to the tabled and folded my arms to cradle it.

"So that baby's you?" I asked trying not to sound depressed. Annabelle took a pause before putting the book in her bag. She supported her chin with her left palm.

"You want to hang out?" she sweet, chimed voice asked me and I lifted my head. Her smile had come back to her face; her water eyes had their normal cheer.

"Sure." When we got to the common room she sat on the couch. Annabelle let me try and read some of that Poe man's writings while she busied herself with writing in her old gray diary (She once told me she also used it for writing poems and stories and drawing).

This muggle was brilliant; his poems gripped your heart and then tried to see how hard he could squeeze it till you submitted to the sadness. Once I was done with one called A Dream Within A Dream, I took a deep breath to bring up a difficult subject.

"Aren't you hungry?" I asked casually as possible. Annabelle lifted her head from her work and shook it politely before grinning.

"Are you?"

"No, I was just wondering because I haven't seen you eat yet today," I said closing the book. She kept her face straight and shrugged giggling before going back to her work. "I'm serious here, Annabelle." My tone caught her attention as she put the book down.

"You think I'm sick too, don't you? Like the others," she asked, her voice sweet as sugar the whole way through and not laced with any malice like most people's would. I closed my eyes before gathering back my courage to face this.

"Starving yourself isn't the answer to your problems at home. You know that right?" I had made the connection long ago, when I first noticed that she never spoke about home life, though I had little proof besides the picture I just saw.

She tried hiding her face but sadness illuminated her sparkling eyes as she smiled. She shook her head as she turned her knees so she could face me properly.

"I promise I'm not anorexic." It didn't convince me, even if it was her promise, something she never lied about. Her voice had been too desperate, too secretive to be clean cut. I gave her a stern look and she looked away quickly. "You don't believe me, do you?" It was a statement; she knew my every action and their meanings.

"No, I don't," I retorted mercifully, just to make her not breakdown. I felt cruel doing this to her, if it was anyone else I'd be fine (maybe even think it amusing), but not with Annabelle. She took a deep breath before giving a perfect smile.

"It's ok," she whispered in her kindest of voices before standing up. "Goodnight Severus."

"Wait!" She stopped and her eyes made their way to mine. "Want me to show you those spells I invented?" The question came so suddenly I nearly jumped myself. She nodded filled with a reassuring smile.

"I'd love to." I went to my room to retrieve my potion's book. I stood in front of her with my wand up. I waved it and took a breath.

"Muffliato."

"What does that do?"

"It makes sure that private conversation stay private even in public places. You can't notice, but there's a buzzing outside the room," I said pulling out my potion's book and handed it to her. "All the spells I made are on pages with the corners bent up." She smiled widely examining the book carefully before she giggled flipping it to the back.

This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince was scribbled in the bottom cover in my cramped cursive. I blushed slightly and she smiled looking back down at the book as she flipped through it.

"I like it," she sighed. "It's your mother's maiden name, right?" she whispered expertly. She was always a brilliant listener. She took out her wand after minutes of reading and flicked it at me.

"Whoa!" I cried flying into the air by my ankle. "Annabelle!" In four seconds I had been tossed back to the floor.

Annabelle squeaked and rushed over putting my head in her lap. "Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!" No voice came out of her mouth, like her throat was jammed up. I held up my head.

"Stop for a minute," I commanded and she stopped moving. I put a hand to my head. Damn it hurt. "Well you weren't able to hold the spell for long, now were you?" I asked with a snort trying to stop the aching. Annabelle scooted over to me timidly, like a frightened pixie. Slowly she started to pet my head like the group and I usually did to her.

"Sorry," she was finally able to whisper with a small smile: gentle and warm, but apologetic. I shook my head and gave her a half smile.

"It's fine," I said shrugging and her eyes lit up with excitement at my 'smile'. She continued caressing my stringy hair. My face started to grow very hot; she must have noticed how greasy my hair was.

She seemed to enjoy herself though, because her smile grew and she giggled gently. I blushed heavier as I felt warm breath blowing against the side of my neck. How on earth did she manage to do all this unintentionally?

Suddenly her tempo to which she plays with my hair slowed to a stop that caused me to open my eyes to see her looking thoughtful.

She closed her eyes and leaned forward, landing the left side of her face lightly against my collarbone. I smirked fatigued and turned my head to lay my chin on top of her head. A smile painted with weariness and joy spread across her face. This was the only time she'd ever gotten this close to me so comfortably.

"Not to ruin a moment—" Annabelle shuttered with a silent laugh turning her face up to mine, "but why don't you speak more around the others?" I asked. Her face turned pink making a cat like cry, but she composed herself after closing her eyes for a moment before responding.

"I… Uh... Well… You're... Sweet," she fumbled over her words shyly. An epidemic of heat spread across my cheeks and ears and I turned my head back away from her.

"I don’t know where you're getting that, Slytherin aren't sweet," I hissed. That is except for her of course, we were still as a group trying to decide how she became one of us. She buried her face into my neck before sitting up with her eyes wondering to her bag. Thinking of the picture, I ask, "Where's your family?" Annabelle tensed up against me and she slowly rose so she was sitting up again. Her smile was shining brightly.

"That's personal," she tried to laugh but I frowned. She had never held herself back from talking to me about anything before. I held eye contact with her and watched as her eyes became more pleading by the second for me to drop it.

"Annie?" Her smile began to droop momentarily before she shook her head.

I was hoping I wouldn't have to resort to this. I thought putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Sev…?"

Legilimens!

A striking fear hit me as an old style kitchen barely lit except a small light overhead became the first image. A woman's sobbing came from the table area where you saw her being struck repeatedly.

Then next scene had a flash of a hug between a girl and the woman. An eerie, slow laugh came on in the background as they swayed back and forth together.

My throat tightened when a park came into view. It was sunny, hot, and windy, but children were still going down slides and swinging on swing-sets. A newspaper stuck to the side of a bench as an attempt to get out of the wind's current.

A beautiful, upper class home with a white picket fence caught the favor of the sun's light. A tire swing hung from a giant tree in the front yard that stood tall and proud. To top it all off a garden with flowers and carrots and strawberries and watermelon all grew in the front of the home. Jealously peaked itself into my mind and spread viciously.

The last one was painful. It haunts me now to think about it actually, to think it came into my view so early on in our friendship. I couldn't see anything, just a small, small, small, small light in the form of a vertical line. I leaned forward to touch the barrier. It was wood. Quickly I realized the little girl was beside me shaking in fear as she pressed her face to the small crack of light as screams echoed everywhere.

I realized I was pushed to the floor when I got out of Annabelle's mind. I rubbed my head and growled.

"Are you mad?!" I roared but stopped. Annabelle was staring at me with wide eyes that had taken center stage under her bangs. I felt some slight guilt sweep over me as I saw her painfully calm, yet shocked, face. I went to stand up and gripped the couch to aid me.

"I'm sorry, I didn't—" I stopped again before she flinched back from my step forward.

"Just… Don't…." She whispered caught off guard, her open mouth could barely form words. She picked up her bag and fled from the room before I could grab her coat sleeve.

I sighed sadly to myself slumping back to the couch. I gripped the back off my hair angrily. I blew it.