The Half-Blood Princess- d.m

IX

A/N- hey y'all, clearly this has been a journey, but hey, it's a work in progress. ily.
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Serena's pov:

The dark figure moved closer, each step sounding like a drumbeat in the otherwise silent owlery. My heart raced as I tried to catch a whiff of their scent, hoping for any hint of who they might be. But nothing clicked. When they got closer, the dim light finally unveiled something that made my breath catch—a lightning bolt scar on their forehead.

Potter.

"What do you want, Potter? You nearly scared the shit out of me!" I shouted, my wand still raised defensively.

"We share a mother, you foul git," he sighed, lowering my wand.

Potter and I had a rough history. Our fathers had been at each other's throats since they were kids, and Potter always seemed to come out on top just because he was the Boy Who Lived. But if I'm being honest, it was Potter who got the short end of the stick growing up. He had to deal with our uncle Vernon and was stuck living in this tiny, cramped room under the stairs.

"Potter, you need to understand something. Our mother loved my dad. Your father was a foul git for swooping in and stealing her from Snape," I said, moving closer to him.

"Oh, Snape, you know your father was a fool to get involved with the Marauders. If I were you, I'd consider giving up this whole scheme and the Snape name. You're disgracing it—you're nothing but a filthy blood traitor," Harry said dismissively as he walked away.

I finally walked out of the owlery, a sour taste lingering in my mouth from the encounter. I felt shaken and unsettled. I knew I was no disgrace to my mother; she would have loved me regardless. My father had always assured me that I would make her proud, especially since she excelled in potions and was part of the infamous Slug Club.

Changing my last name wasn't something I had considered. Evans was not just a name but a tribute to my mother and a mark of secrecy. It was all I had left of her. My father often said it suited me because I had inherited her eyes and complexion, unlike Harry, who was more of a reflection of James.

After the long journey back to my dorm from the owlery, I felt defeated. Potter had always seemed to outsmart me, always garnering the glory between us. Despite his knack for trouble, he often emerged triumphant, while I felt like I couldn't measure up.

Fortunately, I had my own strengths, particularly in potions. It was an area where Potter couldn't hold a candle to my skill.

I reached my room and collapsed onto my bed, overwhelmed by the complexities that had entered my life since receiving the Dark Mark. I found myself wishing for a way to erase it all, to obliviate myself from the pain and confusion. Tears welled up in my eyes until I heard a faint knock at the door.

I rose from the bed, stretched my back, and made my way to open the door.

Draco's pov:

I noticed she wasn't acting like herself, and even though I hated dealing with blood traitors, she was the most tolerable one. Plus, my father would have my head if I did anything to hurt her.

Before I went to see her, I needed to change out of my uniform. I swapped it for a plain white shirt and green sweatpants, then headed to the girls' dormitories. I briskly navigated past some first years who were loitering in the hallways, blocking entrances, and wasting time.

 I knocked on her door, and when she opened it, she looked startled, clearly expecting someone else.

"Serena, are you okay?" I asked, a little taken aback by her expression.