Cruelty

How strangely cruel it was, to feel sunlight around her, and still not be able to stop herself from shivering.

For all the praise they’d given her courage, Alice was too terrified to move, and no longer brave enough to pretend she wasn’t.

But the only “threat” around her now was puffapods.

She knew the smell of rain on their richly green foliage without even needing to open her eyes.

Puffapods belonged to a time when she had been happy.

A dreamy morning duet of blushing puffapods and Wiggentree saplings that she’d almost forgotten she loved so much.

Crucio.

One curse had almost taken everything.

Frank.

They had only been a wall apart, but to Alice, it had felt like the whole world.

There were no puffapods where she had left Frank, but a stone floor, slick and pungent with the metallic smell of warm blood. Some of it hers, some of it his.

The screams had stopped, but somehow, that had been far worse.

Even then Alice hadn’t been able to move, with every part of her bruised and broken.

How many days had it been?

Two?...Four?...More?

Alice hadn’t known anymore.

Time, like logic, had stopped making sense there.

A prison? A castle dungeon in ruin? The very edge of sanity?

Alice had wanted to care about the differences.

But everything she’d felt there was pain. Even after the torturing part stopped, the pain didn’t.

It went on, and on, and on.

Until a deranged Bellatrix Lestrange decided that torturing her to the breaking point wasn’t as romantic as torturing the love she’d die for.

Agony was sweeter when it was dragged out of the fear of losing the one you loved.

The punchline more bitter still, when you were torn away from the only person who made the pain worth everything.

Lestrange must’ve known it wasn’t the Cruciatus Curse alone that would break Alice and Frank Longbottom down the way she wanted.

It was each other.

Together, they endured. Together, they stood. Together, they loved defiantly.

But there were no more togethers.

It wasn’t Crucio that had taken those away.

It was Alice.

I will go back. For you. For Neville.

Back to the moment before you ever loved me.

And when she got there, Alice would make sure Frank Longbottom never fell in love with her again.

Until all she had left was puffapods.

And the light birdsong of Jobberknolls, as they fluttered away from the steady rhythmic toll of the castle Clock Tower echoing across the grounds, sounding on the 9th hour.

Safe.

Was she brave enough even for that?

Finally... Alice slowly took the dare, and her long dark lashes fluttered open to the winding green garden path that began at her feet. Forcing herself to breathe in the air that no longer tasted like blood on her lips. Trusting that the mere sound of it wouldn’t give someone a reason to hunt her.

Above her, the sky glowed with a pale billowing clouds that sailed above Hogwarts castle. Pearly and soft as fresh parchment paper.

The gentle Fall breeze toying in her rippling dark brown hair. It felt cooler now, not singed with the scarlet burn of spell fire.

Just that earthy smell of wet dirt mixed into compost, rich with freshly ground moonstone dust.

Only then did she realize how tightly she was balling her fists against her charcoal gray plaited skirt. She slowly loosened them, letting her hands gradually drop from her lap, until her trembling pale fingers found the stone bench beneath her.

’Real,′ she thought, gripping the edges of the bench to steady herself.

The word real meaning so much to her now.

Because what a cruelty to feel like you couldn’t trust your own mind.

Her knee-high socks brushed against a tangle of Lumosvine that had long since claimed the edges of the bench, their moonlight wet leaves grounding her again to reality.

The Herbology Wing?

The subtle rustling of enchanted leaves behind greenhouse classroom windows gave it away, with the gentle clink of pots shifting on their own to catch, as they angled themselves toward the drizzling rain of a weather-conjuring spell. All chiming in tune to the lapping splashes of the Black Lake somewhere nearby.

She was safe.

This place was safe, and there were so very few places like that left for her.

But her stomach didn’t believe it.

She had no one to fight for safety anymore, she knew that. She had made sure she had nothing left for them to take from her. Nothing she would fear to never see again, if she should lose.

Just hush, and peace, and stillness now, and she was terrified.

The quiet only made their voices louder.

“Good. I’m glad you’re watching. I want you to hear how poetically your precious Frankie screams, for being so bloody in love with you. Isn’t he just the perfect little fairy tale? It’d be a shame to let go of one like him, wouldn’t it? He’s so bloody pretty when he cries. Your little Gryffindor lion, all broken and bleeding.”

Alice choked as the sob finally broke through, squeezing the bench tighter, desperately trying to take hold of herself.

I’m here. This is now. Frank is safe.

She knew this place.

She knew these garden paths like she knew the shape of her wand. She knew each enchanted wind chime and fountain trickle as intimately as she knew the sound of Frank’s voice, softened when he’d whisper goodnight to their son.

Hands.

Bench.

Leaves.

Sky.

CRUCIO!

Her hands shook uncontrollably, slippery and bloody as they clawed uselessly against the stone wall that kept her from Frank.

“I’m sorry, my love, that I didn’t find you sooner.”

But the wall between them felt softer now. Silkier.

Her fingers instead brushing the pristine gold-black of her school tie neatly knotted at her collar.

Gray wool vest.

Crisp neat skirt.

Dainty, moonlight-pale hands free of any blemish from wand scars.

She’d really done it.

Merlin, it had actually worked.

The fine gold chain around her neck with the time-turner was gone.

Of course it was.

It wasn’t hers yet.

There had been no wedding for her.

No Augusta. No Frank.

No Neville.

The life she’d had, which had taught her to how to fight, how to endure pain, and how to love devotedly while doing it, hadn’t happened yet.

She was 17 again.

And completely alone in a world still waiting to be ripped apart by war of her past life.

Before cruelty. Before the shadows under her dewy hazelnut-brown eyes, now wide and bright again and only broken by tears. Before blood ever darkened her richly brown hair, which now tumbled freely to the waist of her school uniform vest.

Alice touched her cheek shakily, remembering the softest beauty of her face, and not the hardened one of an Auror that war had left her.

Whole.

Beautiful.

Unbroken.

And more than the Cruciatus Curse, being unbroken again terrified her more than anything.

“Alice Fortescue!”

Funny thing it was, that Alice saw the sound of her voice before she heard it.

Lightly scented sweet peas mingled with shamrock potion oil. Swish and flick neatly written on the page of some charms textbook with a whimsy feather marking its place. Red and gold scarf with cheery green eyes that were like walking Christmas in Hogsmeade, if it were a person.

Lily.

Alice’s feet staggered when she shot up from the bench, her eager eyes searching the garden path for the voice that one devastating owl letter informed her she’d never hear again.

And there, striding across the grass with her school bag rocking behind her, was Lily Evans.

Her red hair pulled into a long, rustic French braid over her shoulder, with the same loveable freckles dusting across her nose, and her smiling green eyes alight with fond disapproval.

Lily was alive.

“Is this where you’ve been hiding all along? I’ve looked everywhere for you!” Lily said, catching her breath. “Charms started five minutes ago, you know? And you’re so quiet and punctual, that none of us realized you were missing, until I turned around to ask you if I might borrow an extra feather, and found out your chair was--”

She cut off mid-sentence, when without a warning, Alice threw her arms around her tightly.

“Empty?” Lily finished her thought, taken by surprise.

Alice held on like holding on might keep her from failing to save Lily again.

“Lily,” she breathed into her friend’s sweet pea shoulder. “Oh thank Merlin, you’re here!”

“Oh...A hug...This is...This is nice...” Lily scrambled to make sense of it all. “But er--um, I can’t breathe, love.”

“Oh, oh I’m so sorry,” Alice whispered softly, quickly pulling back to wipe the tears that had come rolling down her cheek.

Pulling herself back from Alice’s larger-than-life embrace, Lily studied her friend intently.

Something about the way Alice played Alice in front of her, solemn and fearful in the way she looked back, made Lily pause.

“Well, you were fine at breakfast...It wasn’t James, was it? Because if it was James back to his old days of hexing you, he’ll be harvesting Horklump spores out of his teeth for a week.”

“No, no,” Alice said quickly. “Of course not.”

“Then sweet baby Hippogriff, has someone died? I don’t think I’ve ever really seen you cry before,” Lily asked her in concern. “You’re pale as Nearly Headless Nick. What’s wrong?”

Because the way Alice was staring at her--wide-eyed, watery, and frozen--it wasn’t normal for the usual quiet and practical Alice Fortescue Lily knew. The poor girl looked at Lily like she’d just been hit by Petrificus Totalus.

“It’s nothing, nothing...that you should ever worry about,” Alice sniffled. “It’s all fine and better now...With you here.”

But it certainly didn’t look like nothing.

Even while she continued insisting to Lily that it was absolutely nothing, Alice still looked like she’d just watched Lily crawl out of her own grave or something.

“Alice,” Lily’s brow bent knowingly. “You’re trembling like a jelly-legs jinx. What happened?”

Alice tried to laugh it off, but the sound from her throat came out more like a sob instead.

“Nothing,” she insisted again, as Lily went all blurry and watery again in her vision. “It’s just I had the most...terrible, terrible nightmare about you. About everyone. And I-I...I wanted more than anything to wake up from it.”

Lily’s worry only deepened at that.

“A nightmare?” she thought it over. “You know, that always seems to happen when you go to Herbology. Do you think its the Fluxweed? You know Professor Garlick is particular about harvesting them properly during luna phases. Maybe its the potency of the fumes that’s stressing you out. And we all know how much you hate Herbology.”

“Do I?”

Oh right, of course she hated Herbology again.

Because there’d been no wedding.

No Frank.

No one anymore to watch hard at work from afar, as he gently changed her mind.

“Since third year, you said?” Lily reminded her. “The Breeding Disaster?”

That Alice remembered.

The third-year catastrophe, aforementioned (known in certain snickering Herbology circles as “The Shrivelfig Seduction Scandal”) began innocently enough, with Alice attempting to cross-breed a Puffing Shrivelfig with a Venomous Tentacula for a class project on magical plant compatibility.

Unfortunately, within moments, the hybrid sprouted pulsing blisters that hissed ominously, released a cloud of noxious pink smoke, and then violently ejected a torrent of slime so potent it fused three cauldrons together and temporarily blinded Gregory Moon with love-induced hallucinations. Rumor has it, he tried to propose to a Horklump.

Half the class had to be magically quarantined (Alice, with Mr. “Wrongbottom” included), three students were hexed with uncontrollable winking, and someone’s eyebrows still hadn’t grown back evenly by Lily and Alice’s 5th year.

Alice spent a week in hospital, soaked in decontamination shame, while a very kind, old Professor Garlick gave her a heartfelt lecture on why certain magical flora should never be romantically encouraged, no matter how lonely the Shrivelfig looks.

“You swore you’d never be caught petrified in a Herbology classroom,” Lily said. “What a shame, really. Having to take Fourth and Fifth Year Herbology in your Seventh year to play catch-up for your N.E.W.T.s.”

And then her lips slipped into a cheekier grin.

“But I suppose it’s not so bad hanging about the greenhouses all day, now that Longbottom was picked to be Herbology Tutor this term,” Lily teased her. “Is that why you were out here wandering around? To hone a certain bit of Herbologistic talent, if you know what I mean?”

Alice stilled at that.

“Frank?”

She hadn’t ever intended to say his name as softly as she did.

Making Lily’s brow perk.

“Oh...So he’s Frank now?” Lily’s smile lit up, more intrigued. “Nobody’s ever called him Frank, really, and certainly not like that. It’s always Mr. Wrongbottom, or Mum’s-Boy-Bottom, or Sir Righteous-Bottom, or just simply, Bottoms...But never just...Frank...”

Alice hesitated.

If Lily only understood the true meaning of what was really in her eyes when she said that name...it would be a disaster.

If she had even the slightest inkling that Alice had any lingering feelings for a husband she wasn’t supposed to be married to yet, Alice could count on Lily to...take matters into her own hands to speed up the process.

Alice couldn’t risk that.

The last person she felt she could face right now was Frank.

And she wasn’t sure the Alice she’d been in the future would ever be ready for that.

So, the Alice of her past cleared her throat, straightened up her chin, and went to buttoned down everything his name made her feel, for the both of them.

“Honestly, Evans,” Alice sighed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I only called him ′Frank′ because saying ’Sir Righteous-Bottom, ‘Practically a Prefect’ Longbottom’ was too many syllables for how dizzy my head is right now.”

“Swooning will do that properly for you,” Lily bantered back. “Careful, Alice. That’s the first symptom of falling head-over-heels for someone. Right after denial and deflection.”

“I’m not falling for him," Alice dutifully denied it. “I’d be happier spending the rest of my life cuddling up with Devil’s Snare.”

“Come on, Fortescue. It’s so obvious, you know,” Lily shook her head. “I’m sure by the end of this year, when he’s finally gathered up the courage to ask you to marry him, you’ll be falling all over yourself to accept him.”

"Falling all over myself?" Alice gave a dry laugh. “If that day ever comes, do be a friend and have me committed.”

Lily shook her head with an eye roll.

“I’m perfectly serious,” Alice insisted. “It’s better for everyone.”

And she meant it.

Even if Lily could never understand why.

“How are you this dramatic before tea time.”

Alice’s gaze drifted to the Black Lake, away from Lily’s, trying not to give away anymore reasons for Lily to question why. Just as a silvery hush settled over the greenwoods of the Highlands, blanketed by a rainless gray sky.

“Really, Alice, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Of course I’m alright.”

But the softness in those words, melancholy like the quiet ripples in the lake, made Lily wonder.

“I’m saying it’d just be mad, is all,” Alice explained, watching the lake shimmer at the touch of the maple-scented autumn breeze. “Falling for someone like Longbottom would be the first step toward losing my mind.”

Lily’s brow furrowed even deeper.

She knew there was an important question hidden there somewhere, but ultmately, she didn’t ask.

She didn’t know how to ask what Alice meant.

Or why it seemed that Alice was holding back from something she wished she could only tell her.

That she didn’t seem like the same Alice she had spotted in the halls, on her way to breakfast. Perhaps even...only a piece of her?

“Thank you for asking though,” Alice assured her, turning to Lily with a small smile. “Really. I couldn’t be happier that it was you who found me here first.”

“Well then, come on, you daft duck,” Lily said, grateful to crack a little smile out of Alice again, as she slipped her arm around Alice’s and pulled her along with her. “We’re still late for Charms. But if you’ll be my alibi when I confront James about...something unavoidable this afternoon, I’ll let you copy my notes.”

And, as if that were some secret promise, without saying it, that she would be there when Alice needed to talk, Lily gave Alice’s elbow a gentle squeeze, tucking it close against her side as they stepped onto the winding castle path.

“You know, I still think ‘Sir Righteous-Bottom’ has a nice ring to it,” Lily said in afterthought. “Fitting for a man who makes a girl forget her way to Charms class.”

“Enough, Evans,” Alice said, giving Lily a playful nudge. “Keep that up and you’ll be Squid toast before dinner.”

And then, as Lily began going on and on about something atrocious James had put the first years up to, while being a prefect, Alice stole one last glance behind her, to the old Herbology bench entangled in overgrown vines.

“Alice, my dove. Don’t be afraid.”

It was the last thing Frank had said to her.

How was she to go on being unafraid now?

He had always been there to make her feel braver than she believed she was...until he wasn’t.