Snape's Criminal Daughter

Chapter 29

He had not seen her since the morning, and surprisingly, it didn't bother him as much as it used to. She could take care of herself, at least, he thought she could. She could certainly climb the walls of the castle. But nonetheless, he was worried slightly. The cold outside was nothing compared to what it had been earlier, and she had a tendency to not bring extra clothing. 

He smiled slightly. She acted like him sometimes, and most of the time, not in a good way. 

After she had left the Great Hall, and he had watched her leave, he had returned, only to find her book, lying in her place. She had left it there, laying open, and only when he drew closer, did he realize what page it lay on. 

Draught of living death. 

He sucked in a breath. It had to be an accident. There was no way that she would be looking at this, no way. He snapped the book closed, earning stares from the long table,  and stalked back to his chambers. 

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"The only people who can see Thestrals, are people who have seen death."

But she had not seen death, sure, she had seen plenty of horrible things, but none of them were death. She had seen her friends in pain, those she loved crying, but she had not seen death. It appeared, as with many magical things, that the invisibility of the Thestrals did not apply to her. 

They were beautiful creatures, magical, more than likely deadly, but beautiful. 

Shaking the remaining snow off her robes as she stepped inside the warm castle, she stepped over the now growing puddle of water near the entrance. Filch was going to loose it. 

Grinning to herself, more than usual, she made her way up to her room. The sound of a crackling fire met her ears as she pushed open the wooden door, and it warmed the room magnificently. Throwing off her sopping wet robes, and reaching for a clean, dry pair from the trunk, she stepping into the bathroom. 

Her hair, out of everything, was what shocked her the most. 

It was no longer short and hastily cut. It was now, after months of not cutting it, long and curly. It had a certain glow to it that made the curls shine, something she was certainly not used to. It fell around her face like curtains, enhancing her pale complexion. And with a jolt, one that almost made her jump, she realized exactly who she looked like. And it was not something she was overall pleased about. 

Ignoring the clean robes, she reached for her normal attire, something more comfortable. She couldn't run the well in robes, there was a high chance she'd trip over them. The tight, but conformable leather pants, and the slim long sleeve, covered by her favorite hoodie, it made her feel at home. 

Staring at herself in the mirror, she couldn't find her old self, it was as if she had disappeared the minute she had entered the castle. So half out of anger, and half out of need, she snatched the knife from the counter and gripped a lock of her hair. Taking a deep breath, she swung the knife forward. The black hair began to fall on the floor around her, like a dark halo. 

When she felt that she had shed enough, she set the knife back down on the counter and glanced up. The curls were gone, replaced with her normal, short hair. The way she had cut it, it showed the edges like jagged lines. 

It made her smirk. 

Grabbing the knife again, slipping it into her belt, she struts out of the room and down the corridor. She drew stares as she walked, but at the moment, she had bigger problems. She could hear the whispers of the student passing her, they were like a growing wave, beginning small, harmless. Then growing in her head, consuming every corner and crevasse.