Chapter Text
The crackle of the burning wood was drowned out by the heavy laughter filling the Slytherin common room. The air reeked of late-night celebration; thick with tobacco smoke and heavy with alcohol.
On her way back to her room, Aster paused on the stone steps, quietly watching the scene below. Two figures were locked in a dry, low-register argument over which Firewhisky reigned supreme, the dim firelight catching the sharp angles of their faces.
Her pencil moved across her notebook out of pure habit, capturing the chaos of the room. She froze when a floorboard groaned beneath her boot.
“What the fuck was that? Pansy, quit lurking already,” Blaise muttered, staring into the dark stairwell without getting up. “Watch all you want, I’m not moving.”
Theo let out a lazy scoff in the background.
Mortified at being caught, Aster retreated into her dorm, pressing the door shut as silently as possible, only to see Pansy fast asleep across the room.
Shit.
Outside, the floorboards groaned again. Footsteps. She lunged into bed, pulling the heavy blanket over her head and freezing in place.
The lock clicked. “Alohomora.”
“Pansy, we’ve been over this,” Theo’s drawl echoed through the room. “If you want a drink, just come down and stop acting like a psychopath.”
Pansy groaned, sitting up and blinking against the dark. “What are you talking about?”
“Cut the act. Come down.”
“Fine,” Pansy muttered. “Let me wake her first. Now get out.”
Aster held her breath until the door shut.
“You live to make my life difficult, don’t you?” Pansy sighed from across the room. “Seriously.”
“I’m sorry, Pans,” Aster muttered, pulling the blanket back. “Thanks for covering.”
“You’re coming downstairs with me,” Pansy said, standing up.
“Pans, they’re drunk, and they’re your friends,” Aster replied, reaching for a worn hoodie anyway.
They knew each other, of course - passed each other in the dungeons, shared tables in Potions, traded deadpan looks during Snape's lectures. But Aster had always kept her distance, existing on the quiet periphery of their circle.
“They already like you,” Pansy said, opening the door. “Just come down.”
Downstairs, the air was thick with smoke and spilled liquor. Pansy stepped out like she owned the space, with Aster a half-step behind.
Theo tilted his head, inspecting her over the rim of his tumbler. “Well. The elusive roommate actually exists.”
Aster didn't offer an excuse. She just walked past the hearth and sank into a deep green armchair, tossing her legs over the armrest.
To the rest of the house, her name was a formal entry on the rolls.
To this room, she was just Aster, a nickname Theo had decided on back in their First Year, instead of using her full name, which wasn't, in any way, complicated to pronounce: Asterea ("Of the stars" or "starry")
"I wasn't hiding, Nott," she said, resting her chin in her hand. "I was hoping you'd all be passed out by now."
Pansy let out a dry laugh. "Valid hope. Ignore him."
"Don't flatter him," Blaise called out from the window alcove, stepping into the light with a folded scroll. "Theo gets insufferable when he thinks he's being interesting."
“Quit talking and have a drink,” Draco muttered from the corner armchair. The familiar, sharp tension he carried was still there, but muted by the late hour.
Pansy poured a splash of Ogden’s into a crystal glass and handed it over. Aster took it with a quiet nod, swirling the amber liquid.
"He's just bitter because Snape gave him an Acceptable," Pansy noted.
"The essay was poorly structured," Draco shot back, taking a heavy drink.
"Right," Aster said smoothly, her tone dry as bone. "It's always the structure, Draco. Never the content."
A faint twitch touched the corner of Draco's mouth before he looked back at the fire, letting the silence settle into something heavy and grounded.
"Speaking of structure," Theo murmured, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his lazy demeanor sharpening into a quiet focus. "Are we actually doing this tomorrow, or are we just staring at each other?"
Pansy’s eyes flicked toward the hall. "Keep it down, Nott. I’m not scrubbing cauldrons for Snape."
"Snape won't be there," Draco said quietly. "He’s occupied tomorrow night. I saw the ledger in his office."
Aster set her glass on the wooden armrest, taking in the sudden shift in the room. "What's actually up there?"
Theo looked at Draco, then turned to Aster. "A passage. Pre-Hogwarts old. Draco found the ward signature behind the third-floor tapestry. But it takes four people to avoid the charm without tripping the castle wards."
"We didn't tell anyone else," Draco added, his grey eyes fixing on Aster over his glass. The usual guarded wall between them was lower than it had ever been. "Just us."
"It's just a secret passage," Mattheo spoke up from the shadowed corner, his voice low and raspy as he swirled a chaotic mix of spirits in his glass. "Probably leads to a collapsed classroom or an old cellar."
"It’s not on the main map," Theo corrected softly. "That makes it worth looking at."
Pansy wrinkled her nose at Mattheo’s glass. "You're going to poison yourself before midnight tomorrow."
"It adds character," Mattheo replied, leaning his head back against the leather.
There was something quiet and distinct settling over the room. For the first time, Aster wasn't just observing them from the edges or exchanging dry pleasantries in the corridor. They were handing her a piece of something private.
"So," Aster said, her voice cutting through the crackle of the wood. "When?"
"Tomorrow at midnight," Mattheo said from the shadows.
"You're in, right?" Theo asked, leaning in.
Aster looked at Pansy. "You going?"
"I have a Potions paper to finish," Pansy said, taking another drink. "You go."
"Pansy staying back works," Draco noted, looking directly at Aster. "We need a fourth."
Theo raised an eyebrow. "No escaping it now."
Aster looked around the tight circle; the shared silence, the quiet weight of being pulled into something real. She swirled the last of her drink, a small, dry curve touching her lips.
"Fine," Aster said softly. "I'll keep you three from setting off the wards. But if we get caught, Nott, it's on you."
Theo raised his glass in a mock toast, a slow, genuine smirk breaking across his face. "Deal. Tomorrow at midnight, behind the third-floor tapestry. Don't be late."