April 14th, 1890 — Slytherin Dungeon, Hogwarts

Open to other Slytherins

It was past midnight and Hesper was struggling to go to sleep. She'd been staring at the canopy of her bed for what felt like hours on end when she finally gave up. Donning her robe over her nightdress for warmth and slipping her feet into a pair of slippers, Hesper grabbed a book, a quill, ink, and some parchment and left her dormitory.

To her relief the common room was deserted. She chose the coziest seat by the fire and arranged her things on the table next to her. Rather than read or write a letter to her sister, Hesper hugged her knees to her chest and stared into the fire. She'd realized just the other day that in a month she'd be going back home for summer. She didn't think she could go back to her life before Hogwarts, she'd left home a child and she wasn't a child anymore. She'd go home and it'd be just like it was and she wouldn't be allowed anywhere all summer. What frightened her more was the possibility that she might not be allowed back to Hogwarts on some whim of Great Aunt Jessamine's.

Maybe she would write a letter to Phaedra after all. Using her book as a table in her lap, Hesper started to pen a letter she'd never send to a sister she wasn't even sure was still alive. Suddenly there came the sound of movement in the room which made her start. She peered around the edge of her armchair and tried to locate the source of the noise. "Who's there?"

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Finally, her bleeding had been coming to an end. She didn't need to change her rags as often. Miss Sykes had told her that it would gradually stop and she'd understand it by the blood's flow and its colour. So hopefully, she could stop wearing the rags tomorrow or the day after! Seneca was tired of having to check that she hadn't stained her clothes every hour or so. And she would stop having to keep her abilities under control, so the pain she felt wouldn't physically manifest on her. She hated the bright crimson hair and the wrinkles that appeared.

She now had a migraine keeping her from falling asleep. She was told that migraines were a symptom of having your lady problems as well. Or it could be due to her having to keep her abilities under control. Seneca wasn't used to having to keep them from manifesting. Usually, her appearance would change only if she wished for it to change.

She couldn't sleep.

Seneca quietly got up from her bed, wore her robes above her nightgown and went to the common room. There was a cabinet with pain-relieving potions there, which she could use to get rid of her migraine. Then, she could read maybe.

She didn't notice that there was another student with sleep issues when they called for her. It was a younger student, judging by her voice and when Seneca had a look at her, she recognized her as Hesper Gamp. Seneca knew all the purebloods at her house, especially the ones from her class.

"It's your prefect, Miss Gamp," Seneca replied. She turned her back at the Slytherin so she could look through the potions cabinet for the anti-migraine potion. "What are you doing here, Miss Gamp? Nothing that would make me deduct points, I hope?" Talking wasn't helping with her migraine, neither the sudden beam of light that jumped out of her wand when she cast Lumos, so she could find the potion.

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Flora had arranged to help the Astronomy professor with test grading for extra credit that evening, and it was shortly passed midnight when she was given her pass and sent on her way back to the dungeons. She'd run into Mr. Bones and proceeded without further trouble, but her nerves were still acting up; she'd never noticed how eerie the dungeons could be at night, and it was even worse when there was only enchanted torches to light the corridors.

She slipped into the common room, expecting to find it completely empty, but to her surprise found Miss Gamp and the older Miss Lestrange having a conversation. At.... half past midnight. She didn't know what they were talking about, but she caught something about deducting points.

"Probably studying," she piped from the shadows. A yawn overtook her as she moved into the light, and she dramatically flopped down on the sofa nearest Miss Gamp. She'd grown to like the first year; she reminded her of herself, even if she came across as somber and sad half the time. (She supposed she would be sad, too, if she was an orphan.)

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Hesper's eyes widened in surprise and apprehension. She'd never spoken to Seneca Lestrange before but as a much older girl and a prefect she automatically felt a certain degree if respect towards her. The sort of respect that made her want to be invisible to the sixth year.

Before she could respond, a third voice piped up and Hesper was relieved to recognize it as belonging to Flora. "Actually I'm writing a letter!" she said with sudden confidence that had everything to do with her friend's timely arrival. After a beat she added, "I couldn't sleep." She wanted to know what Miss Lestrange and Flora were doing up but didn't want to seem overly familiar towards the prefect.

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They were soon joined by Miss Flora Mulciber, of whom Seneca knew of as well. Her mother was a famous socialite, probably a friend of her cousin Evelyn. Curiously, she had come from outside. Seneca didn't believe that the twelve-year-old daughter of one of the most well-known socialites was capable of doing scandalous things, still, she felt inclined to ask, with some disinterest in her voice: "And where were you, Miss Mulciber?" She didn't turn to look at the second year, still looking for her potion.

Seneca wasn't actually inclined to take any house points from her fellow Slytherins. As long as she didn't catch other Slytherins having sex or murdering people, she overlooked their misbehavior.

Miss Gamp told her she had been writing a letter and that she couldn't sleep. Fair. "Maybe there's a sleeping potion here for you, Miss Gamp, if your problem persists," Seneca told the youngest student.

Now, onto her problem. Where was the migraine potion? Would she have to brew one herself? She was getting annoyed at her difficulty in finding it.

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Flora was unbothered by Miss Lestrange's presence and was only mildly discomforted by her nosiness. She supposed being a prefect was synonymous with being nosy; she would endeavor to be the opposite when she was prefect one day. She sat up, uncrumpled her hall pass, and held it out to Miss Lestrange.

"Astronomy tower," she replied. "Professor [----] let me help her grade papers for extra credit. I never knew the doors in the dungeon open and shut on their own at night." And neither did Mr. Bones, apparently, but Miss Lestrange seemed like the type who would know every little detail like that.

She craned her head in Hesper's direction, trying to get a peep at the paper. She couldn't see a reason why anyone would need to write a letter so late at night! Perhaps there was an emergency?

"Are you well, Hesper?" she asked sincerely, resting her chin under her arms on the arm of the couch. "From my experience, insomnia happens when you're not well."

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Hesper was hesitant about taking a sleeping draught she'd never had one before - what if she overslept the next morning? Perhaps if the problem persisted a little longer but surely once she got that tired she'd have to fall asleep easily?

"Mmmm, I think so." She nodded and looked towards Flora, only now realizing that she might be able to see the letter. She arranged her arms on top of the parchment and hoped it seemed coincidental. "Sleep is just... difficult lately. That's all. Doesn't that ever happened to you?" It was a question she was mostly directing at Flora but only because she still felt weird being conversational with Miss Lestrange. If the prefect understood what she meant and wanted to say as much then really Hesper hoped she would speak up.

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Seneca directed her wand's light beam to Flora Mulciber's hall pass. She didn't really read it, before saying: "Good. I am rewarding you with five points, for being honest and punctual." Did Flora Muclbier actually need to be rewarded for doing what she was supposed to do anyway? If it wasn't a fellow Slytherin, Seneca would have thought to move redundant. But why not aid her house towards winning the house cup, if she could?

Finally, Seneca found the potion she had been looking for and she walked up towards the sofas by the fireplace, where the younger students were sitting. She vaguely understood that she was third-wheeling them, but they were in the common room and they couldn't make her leave. Besides, they could probably use some of Seneca's wisdom.

"I would say that it happens to anyone who actually uses their brain," Seneca commented. Wincing, she slouched back in her armchair and clasped the side to her forehead with her fingers, in the universal "I-have-a-headache" pose.

"Is it something related to your studies? Something I could help you with, perhaps?"

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Flora smiled at Miss Lestrange, not because she was particularly grateful, but because she thought the points might get revoked if she didn't show a smidge of gratitude. It was certainly better than getting points taken away for being a few minutes late—if Miss Lestrange would have even considered such an action. She didn't seem like the type who enjoyed losing.

"Yes, I know our studies can weigh on our minds," she said, gently patting the younger girl's arm in a way she hoped would prove comforting. Flora had never been much of a comforter; she was used to being the comforted as the youngest child in her household, but she was sure she could mimic some of her Mama's tactics. "I'm sure Madam Sykes keeps a few fresh brews as well. Unless Miss Lestrange could be obliged, that is," she said with raised brows in the older girl's direction.

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"Sort of." Realizing that might prompt questions she quickly tacked on, "Yes." While she might be friends with Flora and Miss Lestrange seemed increasingly approachable, she doubted either of them would understand what was really bothering her. She also didn't really feel comfortable speaking ill of her great aunt, even if fondness was the last thing she felt for the old witch.

"I've never had an exam before. If I don't do well-" Hesper stopped and pursed her lips before she could say anything else. It had started off as extra padding for her white lie but it seemed she was quite anxious about those too. "Oh but please don't worry about it, Miss Lestrange, I have to fall asleep eventually!" Miss Lestrange looked uncomfortable and brewing a potion probably didn't appeal to her in the slightest, Hesper didn't fancy getting on her bad side and surely Flora wouldn't want to either.

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A simple sleeping draught was like making toast for Seneca but she was in no shape to brew any potions. She drank the potion for her own problem and then slouched back in the armchair and waited for her migraine to pulsate away.

"By the time I'm done brewing it, Miss Gamp will get sleepy anyway," Seneca replied. "But there might be a sleeping draught in the potions cabinet." Miss Mulciber could put in the effort for her friend and then it'd give Seneca a reason to award Slytherin with more house points.

She turned to Miss Gamp. "That you are worried about your exams shows that you care and that is a good thing. I assure you, though, that you have nothing to worry about. If people who were barely literate before coming to Hogwarts can pass them, then so can you."

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Flora didn't wait a moment before she hopped off the couch and headed for the small cabinet outside the matron's office, which was conveniently filled with supplies that students might need during the evening and night. She sifted through parchment and quills and small vials of refilling ink, and finally found the small vials labeled with potion names. Many of them were simply things—sleeping draughts, calming draughts, and even a cheering potion that she remembered being added after one of her house-mates had been found crying in the middle of the nights. She grabbed one for the sleeping draught vials and went to sit back next to Hesper.

"If anything, it will soothe your nerves. I'm not sure how effective a vial this small could be," she said, holding out the potion for her friend to take. It was then that she noticed the parchment hidden carefully under Hesper's hand and remembered that she'd been writing a letter.

"Who were you writing to anyways?" Hesper was an orphan, right? It dawned upon Flora that she had no idea where the first year even lived during the summer, or who her legal guardian was at all.

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"I'm sure you're right, Miss Lestrange." Scraping through the exams wouldn't be good enough but she said nothing more on the subject, the prefect was trying to reassure her and she was at least grateful for the attempt if nothing else.

Flora had suddenly returned with a vial of sleeping potion and she now felt obliged to accept. "Thank you, Flora." If it really was too small to send her to sleep then there probably wouldn't be any harm in taking it. Hopefully one of the girls in her dorm would wake her if not.

"Oh." At the mention of her letter, her face fell a little and she looked uneasily between the older girls. She hadn't thought anyone would bother asking at this point, clearly she was wrong. "No one. Well not no one, I was writing to my great aunt." She'd recovered that pretty well, hadn't she? "Should I take this now?" She indicated the vial of potion and hoped that stopped either from pursuing the subject of her letter.

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There was nothing of Seneca's dignity and grace in the way she had collapsed in her chair. Her right hand's fingers were clasping at the right side of her forehead, where she experienced the pain.

She didn't really care who Miss Gamp was writing to.

"Yes," she replied to the younger Slytherin. She hadn't really seen what potion Miss Gamp had picked from the cabinet but she trusted that Miss Mulciber wasn't so dumb as to have picked the wrong vial. They all had labels and everything.

Suddenly, she decided to withdraw to the bed chambers. Her headache wouldn't really pass if she was around the girls' chatter. After third-wheeling them for a bit, Seneca decided that they wouldn't talk about anything interesting that she would care to butt in to, like dueling spells. If that had been the case, she would have stayed to impose her knowledge onto them.

"I am going to bed," Seneca declared and she stood up from the armchair, which made her head pound in pain. "Have a good night, both, and try not to make too much noise."

With that, Seneca headed upstairs.

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Flora wished Miss Lestrange goodnight, feeling as though she could take a breath. Why were the older Slytherins always so intimidating? Flora didn't think of herself as a doormat type, but she couldn't deny feeling a little nervous around Miss Lestrange. Hesper seemed to open up a little, too, and Flora felt more comfortable being nosey without the prefect breathing down her neck.

"Maybe not until you finish your letter," she said, smiling. "Your great-aunt.... Do you live with her? Is she very nice? I realize I never asked where you live." Did Miss Gamp live in the countryside? The city? Hogsmeade? No, she'd know if Miss Gamp lived in Hogsmeade...

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Miss Lestrange hadn't actually been as stern and unapproachable as Hesper had expected but she was still relieved when she left for bed. Her relief was short-lived when Flora started asking questions. Her face fell and she suddenly looked very dour. It wasn't that she was insecure about the truth - not with Flora at least - but she didn't really want to talk about it. Not right now anyway, she was already fixating on the inevitable end of the school year and the subsequent return to her aunt's care. Talking about it would just make her feel worse and she didn't think she could bear it if she started crying.

"I live with my Great Aunt Jessmine, yes." She chewed her bottom lip for a second. Flora wasn't supposed to have asked her questions like that, she hadn't thought for a second that it would be a possibility! "I'm... I'm not actually writing to my great aunt. I'm really writing to my... parents." At the last second she'd steered herself into another lie but her dead parents everyone knew about were less likely to be of interest than her sister.

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