Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The thunder boomed and lightning cracked like a harsh whip as the tiny boats atop the Great Lake headed for the castle. Each one held three or four shivering students, except for one. This final boat - which was, ironically, far ahead of all the others - held a singular, confident looking student.

She faced the winds head on with the air of one who believed they could defeat the world. By the way she defied the strength of the howling gusts and the thrashing waves, it seemed entirely possible. Her hair stayed obediently in its braid, only the smallest strands of dark brown fluttering behind her.

Not far behind, a huge man was shouting something at her, but she either didn't hear him or ignored him. He seemed to give up, looking annoyed but unsurprised, and turned back to comfort the other terrified students in his boat. She lifted her oars gracefully and swept them through the water, looking unperturbed by the disturbance around her. All around, chaos ensued, and she was in her element.

Not long later, she had docked in the small cove under the castle and was already ascending the stairs. There was a lock on the door at the top of the stairs, but she somehow opened it anyway.

Nothing could stand in her way.

The huge doors opened at the feather light touch of her finger, as if Hogwarts herself was welcoming her. A stern teacher, who was reaching out a finger to open the door, looked positively shocked, but schooled her features into a neutral expression. 

The rest of the students had reached the door by the time the teacher, who was wearing emerald green robes, came out of her shock. 

She coughed. "I-I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress. Follow me." 

She lead them at a brisk march to an antechamber, where she proceeded to tell them about the Houses, and left with a "I will return when we are ready for you." 

The girl flicked her hair over her shoulder and turned to survey her classmates, noting what type of personality they had, and who she would be friends with. She noted with disdain the dropping jaws of her future classmates as a smaller boy revealed a lightning bolt scar that marred his forehead. 

She watched as a pointy-chinned boy insulted the boy with the raven hair and green eyes, only to reel back as he was snubbed. 

It took everything in her power to keep the stoic expression on her face when the ghosts floated through the wall. She gave them a cordial nod, and watched them freeze in shock. 

Just then, Professor McGonagall returned, and the ghosts glided through the opposite wall. She beckoned for them to follow her as she led them into an extremely large hall with an enchanted ceiling--or was that the sky? 

"It's enchanted... Hogwarts: a History," a girl with bushy hair spoke. Ah. That would explain why she didn't know. The book was too thick and it looked extremely uninteresting. 

The upper year students were all looking expectantly at a ragged looking hat, which looked as if it contained nits. She balked. She would not be wearing that if she had to. 

Then the hat began to sing. 

Oh, you may not think I’m pretty,

But don’t judge on what you see,

I’ll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There’s nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can’t see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you’ve a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You’ll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don’t be afraid!

And don’t get in a flap!

You’re in safe hands (though I have none)

For I’m a Thinking Cap!

The students clapped for the song, and she did too. It wasn't everyday you met a hat who could sing. 

"Now, I will call you up. Abbot, Hannah!" 

The hat placed her in Hufflepuff, before they moved onto the next student. Before long, "Potter, Harry!" was called. 

Immediately, the whispers started. The small, dark haired boy walked uncertainly up to the hat, looking annoyed but resigned. It seemed he didn't like the attention. She frowned. People were not perceptive. 

Before long, it called out Gryffindor and they moved on. After Blaise Zabini was called, there was a pause. 

"Lady?" This was said in a confused tone. 

The girl shrugged and walked over to the stool, where everyone proceeded to gape at her. 

Really? How childish. 

Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head, much to her mental protests. 

"Oh, I quite agree." 

The disembodied voice made her momentarily confused. 

"Who are you?" 

"I've had many different names, but I also respond to The Sorting Hat." 

"Oh," she mentally muttered, feeling foolish. 

"Anyway, I'm here to sort you. Ambitious... intelligent... poised... witty... cunning... where should I put you?"

"Somewhere I can succeed." 

"Alright. SLYTHERIN!" 

She gracefully glided to her House table after removing the hat, noting that her robes now had an emerald and silver trim. A few of her housemates looked almost welcoming, but most of them were scrutinising her quite obviously. 

She ate her dinner while looking at the others through the corner of her eyes. It was obvious they didn't trust her, since she had no last name. This was meant to be a sin in the pureblood circles, basically, since she had no family legacy to fall back upon. 

After the plates had disappeared when dessert had been eaten, the headmaster stood up and gave his notices. 

Lady looked apprehensive when they came to the part about third door corridor death, but this was replaced by excitement as the prefects stood up and began herding them in the direction of the Slytherin Common Room.

It turned out that the entrance of the common room was along a very plain stretch of wall that opened when a password was spoken to it. They then stepped inside the room. 

Immediately, Lady's eyes took in black leather couches, a fireplace burning with flames that had a green hue as light was cast upon it, and tables strategically placed around the room. It screamed pureblood, yet looked comforting. 

The first years began to sit down near the fireplace in a semicircle formation. The wall opened and an imposing man stepped in. Immediately, a vague memory sprung into her mind. 

The man towered above her... "out!"... He didn't give her a second glance... 

She was jolted out of her trance as he spoke. 

"... Now you must all introduce yourself." 

It got round to her after a while. 

"I'm Lady. I'm most looking forward to Charms." 

After the introductions were done, he dismissed them and left. The upper years came down and started mingling, and it all seemed to centre around a few seventh years.

"There must be a hierarchy," she mused. "Those seventh years at the top, and then those other people trying to get into their good books. But how would I get up there?" 

Lady left to find her bed in the dorm room, still trying to figure out how she would climb the hierarchy. 

"Yes, the Queen of Slytherin sounds like a good position to have. I either must get into their good books and do enough so they will choose me as their successor, or do something great so they'll elevate me." 

She looked at a snake carving on her bedpost. 

"I'll think about this tomorrow." 

The snake hissed in assent. 

Our fav'rite lady joins our fav'rite school,

Where romance and adventure she shall find.

And here she shall knock down ev'ry poor fool

Who underestimates her cunning mind.

Chapter Text

Lady stood at the window of the Great Hall, smiling as the early autumn light played among her features, making her look both beautiful and eerie. Somewhere behind her, people were talking quietly, trying to awaken their brains in preparation for the day. She had woken before them all and had already eaten, and only the earliest risers were even present right now. This would someday all be her domain, her kingdom. They would all tremble in her presence.

As she gazed outside and contemplated her future, she decided upon one thing:

She was going to be the Queen of Slytherin, and nobody would stop her.

***

A few hours later, as Lady was sitting and watching her classmates eat. It was not creepy at all (totally) and she found it quite useful to analyse their actions. One boy wearing a yellow tie was sitting with a poise that radiated pride, and an Indian girl sitting at the Ravenclaw table was braiding her black hair. Lady observed her own house, too, but they seemed to wear their personalities and ambitions on their sleeves, so weren't as fascinating to stare at.

As she looked over at the table crawling with Gryffindors, she caught the gaze of an older boy. He gave her a small smile but, before she could investigate further into the odd interaction, another Gryffindor rose and strode up to her. This older, more powerful looking wizard drew her gaze instantly, and not because he was handsome. No, something about him radiated chivalry and nobility and a few other honourable traits that caused others to watch him as he crossed the room.

"Malfoy, I presume?" he said immediately, and Lady scowled.

"What did you just call me?" she replied disdainfully. "I believe the Malfoy here is sitting on the other end of my table."

Sure enough, Draco was watching from behind a letter that was probably from his overprotective parents. Lady snorted. Why would this Gryffindor think she was a Malfoy?

"Regardless," the boy continued, "I saw you scanning everyone like some predator, and wanted to make sure you know that causing trouble for my house is not permitted."

"What are you, Head Boy?" Lady scowled, readying herself to rise up and fight him if necessary.

"Yes, actually," the boy said. "Now remember - I know you must be ambitious, but we must control ourselves in this world. I've heard you make everything bend for you, but that won't work on me. You adhere to your boundaries, or I'll make sure you're out of here."

Petty threats? Really? As if Lady would really care. "We'll see."

The Head Boy stopped mid-turn and glared at her. "Say that again."

"I said, 'we'll see'," Lady repeated, rising from her seat, "Why? Do you feel threatened?"

"Oh, you think you can threaten me?" the Head Boy's fingers were curling into fists and he was close to drawing his wand.

"I know I can."

The Head Boy struck, and Lady dodged smoothly, spinning around and smirking. This boy fought like some kind of old-fashioned soldier, always making his moves careful and harmless. Lady would not fight such a held back fighter normally, but this could be her first step to proving herself as a candidate for Queen. She raised her hand swiftly and-

"Stop, Duncan!"

It was that boy from before, the one who had smiled at her. He was... helping her.

A useful ally, she decided.

"You need to set a good example as Head Boy," the helpful boy said. Duncan snorted but turned away.

"Very well, Macbeth," he said. "But only because you are my most valiant friend."

Macbeth nodded deeply and watched as Duncan left before turning to send Lady that same glowing expression. He seemed genuinely pleased to meet her, as if he had seen beyond her glares and cold attitude. What exactly did he see?

"It is good to meet you, Lady," he greeted, and his words reminded her of how impact her arrival had really had. Besides Potter, she supposed that she was the most interesting new person to have arrived last night. "How are you finding Hogwarts?"

"Yes," she responded simply, before sweeping away.

After a few moments, the boy caught up with her again, still persistent. "I apologise for Duncan's hostility - he is usually welcoming, but I think he has judged you too soon. You seem truly impressive to me, but maybe he sees you as a threat. I mean, you must be powerful, yes?"

The compliment made Lady's insides hum in contentment. She stopped walking and faced him in the middle of the corridor. "You couldn't be speaking a greater truth. I could crush him in seconds, and someday I shall be the one making the threats."

Macbeth didn't look disapproving - in fact, he seemed awed. A gentle thrum of something warm buzzed in Lady's chest, and she smiled at him. After that, he just stared at her in admiration as she walked away towards her first class.

***

A few days later, Macbeth had latched himself to Lady, constantly trying to start a conversation with her and subtly suggesting an interest in her. It was all very noble and proper, and the young man shared his Head Boy's poise and old-fashioned behaviour, but somehow Lady was charmed by it.

It seemed that, the year before, he had proved to Duncan that he was a loyal and worthy candidate for being Duncan's mentor. Duncan had invented some kind of competition to test the last group of first year Gryffindor boys, and had deemed Macbeth the bravest. Now he was deciding who would be his apprentice of sorts; in other words, his heir.

Lady scoffed inwardly when she heard about it. Why pick the bravest? What if the student was thicker than oak? Then again, she thought, that would be a perfect fit for Duncan.

And yes, she was absolutely certain that her- that Macbeth would win.

During one such conversation, Macbeth said, "I doubt that I will be selected."

"What?" Lady exclaimed. "You are the worthiest, by far!"

Macbeth turned his face away, either to hide his blush or to suppress some other emotion about the topic. "Have I not told you about... Malcolm?"

"Is he not Duncan's cousin?"

"That is the issue," Macbeth muttered. "It has been assumed that Malcolm is to be his protege, as he is a relative. After him is his younger brother -"

"Donaldbain," Lady finished, shooting a glance across the room to where she saw the boy charming yet another young student. "But he is a little less suited to the role." She turned to Macbeth again, a small smirk on her face. "I shall ensure your place under Duncan."

Macbeth returned her intense gaze with a mildly confused one. "How?"

"If Duncan does not give you your rightful honour, I shall bring it to you," she replied quietly, reaching forward to grasp his hand. "You have been the only good person here so far, and I shall repay this debt with the cunning mind, the ambition that placed me in my house."

"Ambition?" Macbeth was now sharing her expression, as if he had finally met someone who understood his drive, his passion. He didn't yet realise how true this would turn out to be. "I feel such a force driving my life very often, myself, but I sometimes find myself going too far. I would do much for my passions, but I draw the line at the edge of my own morals."

Lady nodded smoothly. That was a difference, she noted.

"What about you, Lady?" he asked. "What would you stop at?"

A long pause. She directed those cold eyes filled with warmth just for him at him, straight into his certain heart, melting away the foundations of his beliefs, opening him to new worlds. He wanted to run, to hide, to be right by her side forever and as far away as he could get.

"Nothing. I would stop at nothing."

No Gryffindor should ever be too brave,

Or Hufflepuff too stubborn or too kind,

And Ravenclaw should all their questions save

When this young Slytherin uses her  mind.

Chapter Text

Macbeth sighed. Was it so hard to earn Duncan's respect? He was Duncan's "valiant friend", but still, he felt as if he still wasn't good enough. Perhaps that was why he had sent those cowardly bullies to the hospital wing after giving each a black eye and a split lip. He hesitantly voiced these thoughts to Banquo.

Banquo rounded a corner and stopped. "Maybe you're trying too hard to gain Duncan's respect. This is his last year, after all. So do you really need to gain his approval that badly?"

"I mean, you have a point," Macbeth said. "But I don't really want to spend the entire year on guard. You know how bad he can get. Like when he decided to antagonise that Slytherin first year, Lady. He only stopped because I asked him to."

"He should like you as you are," Banquo decided. "You should be respected by him for your personality, not good deeds that you go out your way to do. There is a reason why you were sorted into a house that values bravery and righteousness. And the sorting hat is never wrong."

With another sigh, Macbeth gestured for Banquo to lead on again. "Come on, we still have a fair few corridors to go before our duties are finished."

They turned another corner, Banquo before Macbeth. Suddenly, Banquo charged forward, sliding in between a door and three girls that they had definitely never seen before. Each had long, straggly, black hair, and were wearing those hats that no one ever wore at their time in Hogwarts.

"Are you first years?" Banquo questioned. None answered. "Why are you at the third floor forbidden corridor?" he asked sternly. Still no reply.

Banquo looked helplessly at Macbeth, who strode forward, feeling incredibly confused.

"Have you been hexed? Cat got your tongue? Are you, like, seers or something?"

The three witches spoke in turn.

"A prophecy is yours to fulfil, valiant soldier."

"Hail Macbeth, prince of the castle and lands around."

"Hail Banquo, worthy advisor and friend."

"Hail both, loyal and strong 'til the end."

"The prophecy is vague-"

"-and shall only be uncovered-"

"-by two companions whom-"

"-shall stay together-"

"-until the very end."

"Good luck, chosen ones," they finished together.

Smoke billowed through the corridor, and they tried to see through it, but to no avail.

As the smoke cleared through a wind charm Banquo only just thought of, the three witches were gone.

"Erm, what was that about?" Macbeth asked.

Banquo waved him off. "Probably some rubbish to get them out of detention. I suppose we'd better go report this issue afterwards."

Macbeth thoughtfully nodded, resolving to try and examine that memory when he got the chance. What if what they said came true? Macbeth knew that Banquo would never accept his fears, so he should do this particular thing by himself.

But this was swept out of his mind a few minutes later.

Ross and Angus, who Macbeth had never bothered to learn their last names, walked composedly up to the two friends, and began to talk.

"Greetings, fair friends," Banquo said to them, since Macbeth was too busy trying to remember their last names.

"Greetings. We come with a message. The Ambassador of students, Duncan, has told us to tell you that, due to your defence of the defenceless, you have been granted another territory to watch over. This is the fourth floor corridor with the study halls in, so you can make sure that students are behaving appropriately, et cetera."

With that, they pressed a parchment into Macbeth's hand to document this, and left.

It wasn't until several hours later, after patrols and they were in the common rooms, that he remembered what the three weird witches said. 

That must mean they are coming true. I need advice.... Lady might know.

With a parchment in front of him, Macbeth began to write.

Dear Lady,

Do you believe in prophecies?...

During the night when ev'ryone sleeps,

Even th'cats don't make a peep,

In the wild a prophecy's made

Which is fulfilled or will thus fade.

Chapter Text

The moonlight filtered through the few slits in the roof of the Owlery as Macbeth carefully opened the letter. His name was written in an elegant script that he somehow knew must be Lady's, and he was torn between excitement and terror. Would she scorn his belief in the supernatural? Would she trust him? His mind wandered to the idea of ruling the corridors with her as his Slytherin queen, and had to hold back his sheer anticipation.

Carefully, with the manner of one who cared far more about the sender of the letter than its contents, he slit open the envelope and retrieved the heavy, rich paper from inside. He subconsciously questioned how Lady had the money to buy such parchment, but the writing on it distracted him from that chain of thought.

My dear Macbeth, it began, and he pressed a hand to his chest to ease his speeding heartbeat as he heard her voice in his mind.

It seems to me that you are destined to lead many students in the future. Perhaps it is a sign that Duncan shall name you as his heir, though I still do not like the boy. You, however - I would not mind having you as the king of this great school. These strange witches are clearly much more powerful than any of us, and I shall watch out for that so that I may witness their unusual behaviour. They may be useful allies, or deadly enemies.

I wish you the greatest of luck for when Duncan announces his successor. If you are chosen, I can only hope that you select me to be your queen: a position I have spent so long preparing for and which is made all the more appealing and I would be at your side.

Your friend,

Lady

Macbeth breathed out slowly, letting himself calm after the end of the letter, before rereading her words over and over until they were a chant in his head. His queen? His queen? He could barely believe that he had not fallen to the floor upon reading those words.

What greater gift could anyone have given than that?

Oh, to have her at his side, as his queen! It would be his ambition, his passion, his everything to earn that spot and thus her affections. HIs admiration for her beauty and sharp cunning was so great, he would follow her to the end of the world if she asked him to. And while they may not be more than friends, maybe acquaintances, he felt he could trust her with his life. If only she could get to know his heart of gold that was beating for her alone, perhaps he would understand.

He would have to discuss the prophecy with her, as Banquo thought the witches were speaking nonsense, but it would all be worth it. Goodness, it was all so exhilarating!

When his classmate, Romeo, had described his love for some girl that he had only seen once and exchanged a few words with, Macbeth had laughed and called him hopeless. But now, in such a position himself, he finally understood what Romeo had meant. He vaguely wondered what had happened to that boy, but his thoughts were once more sidetracked by the owl who had brought the letter giving a small hoot and flying off. He sighed at the glorious sunrise and wished he could share it with someone he loved.

Little did he know, his story was not a romance.

***

Lady scowled at the clouds as she stood dutifully by her broom.

This morning, it had been clear and wonderful, the sun sending rays all over the ground and bouncing off the lake. At that point in the day, Lady had thought the greatest danger of flying would be avoiding the strong light from the water surfaces, but she seemed to have been wrong. Why could those elusive witches not predict the weather or something as well?

However, the cold wind had set in just as she was finishing breakfast - a fact she had only noticed when she saw the number of students wearing scarves as she watched through the window of the Great Hall. Her gaze drifted over to the sky. At least the sun was somewhat returning, though Lady still felt the chill wafting around her robes.

Not far away, Potter and his new friends were talking with relatively clam expressions. She eyed Draco suspiciously, noting that he was wearing an all too familiar smirk that she had grown to dread long ago. What unsuccessful scheme was he going to hatch today? AS the teacher strode over, announcing her role as a flying teacher, Lady glanced up at a window, where she could have sworn she saw the outline of a certain Gryffindor she had written to at the dead of night just yesterday. Had he recieved the letter?

Her thoughts were somewhat distracted, and she almost missed the order to summon their brooms. Hers flew upwards with a small, graceful twirl, and she gave it a small smile, despite knowing that it had no true emotions. As she carefully neatened the bristles, she registered a few of her classmates racing around the pitch like maniacs, but her mind was elsewhere.

The prophecies.

She pondered on their meaning for quite a while, right until a teacher escorted Potter away with a frown. The flying teacher missing in action, she smirked and mounted her own broom, shocking her foolish classmates. Her eyes caught Draco's for just a second, and a flash of cool rage and dull pain flickered in her mind. she tore her gaze away, kicked off from the ground, and soared into the cold air.

There were gasps of horror and amazement as she swooped over their heads, yet nothing could distract her from her new goal: to reach as far away as she could get.

She was tired of all these secrets and shackles, of people called her Lady, of calling herself Lady. Even if she was safe and mysterious, something in her still wanted to reveal who she was and roar and use every ounce of her magic to rise in power, status, everything she had lost. No, they would find out someday, and then she would make all those who had ignited the spark of fury in her pay.

Her broom reach a limit, and she stopped there, suspended in the air as high as the enchanted school brooms would let her go. Far below, the students who had before been whispering and staring were now tiny dots, and even the castle was a little less daunting. This was the beauty of flight - she could remind herself that not even the largest castles and schools could imprison her ambitions.

A soft cackle, so similar to those Muggle interpretations of witches, escaped her lips, and she spent the rest of the lesson staring down at the place she would make into her domain.

***

At the end of the day, Lady and Macbeth met in the library in a darkened corner, exchanging stories and theories. They became caught up in their ideas and ambitions, laughing softly at each other's dark humour and darker secrets. They barely noticed everyone leaving, and only stood when the librarian chased them away. Remaining at each other's sides, they wandered through the candlelit corridors, Macbeth dropping her back at the common room.

This became a routine, spending time with each other in the evenings and until they could no longer do so. Macbeth murmured about his insecurities in following Duncan's many orders just for praise. In response, Lady revealed her disinterest in joining her Quidditch team as she found team sports could negatively affect the power balance of the school, and she didn't want to owe loyalty to those she could not fully trust.

"Who do you trust?" Macbeth whispered, so close yet so far from her as she absentmindedly stroked an old tome, her eyes locked on his own.

She smiled softly, and her voice was softer still as she replied, "You."

And maybe they were friends, or maybe they had a connection that ran far deeper, but it didn't matter all that much to the two youths as they intertwined their souls in the dark shadows of Hogwarts.

The lady finds her soul is opened bare

To one young boy for whom she seems to care.

And yet she still remains the same dark witch

Whose plans always work out without a hitch.

Chapter Text

... "Get out... Do not disgrace our presence with your face again!" This was followed by a harsh kick to her ribs. She coughed harshly... 

... And sat bolt upright in bed.

Lady rubbed her ribs as if the pain was freshly dealt to her. Her face crumpled for a moment but she hardened it back into her mask, the one she wore daily. 

She leaned against her bedpost softly and thought of what was happening to her. Her plans to change Hogwarts for the better, to have it under her iron grip, were still in motion, but she was slowly rethinking these plans. And all for one person. Macbeth.

She never knew how quickly everything had changed for her. She failed to realise how quickly her heartbeat stuttered when she was around him, how his easy smile soothed her turbulent emotions. His words, spoken in a smooth, rumbling tone, seemed to melt the icy facade she had mastered from the tender age of nine. She gripped her hair softly and tugged. The pain cleared her mind and she thought.

She had planned to push him away once he had fulfilled his purpose, and her heart was blocked away, to prevent the pain she was sure would come with the ultimate rejection she would deliver.But, somehow, her carefully constructed chess game had been utterly destroyed. She had somehow come to care for him, and she knew she would be devastated if he was. She couldn't just use him, she'd come too far for that.

The tender moment she'd had with him, the almost kiss that had happened, this couldn't just be forgotten. But she delved into her mind, pushing the memory away, and locking it up in the darkest depths in her mind, she came out. A quick glance at the clock revealed a time of 6am, and she needed to get up. And she still hadn't thought of what she should do.

As it turned out, blocking her memory away did not block the feelings that came with it. He was coming down the hallway where the stairs met like a sort of formation, and she felt her breath shorten for a few moments. And then he looked at her and smiled.

Love is a weakness, she sternly reminded herself. You'll have to lock the feelings away, and pretend he doesn't make you feel as if you want to steal him away and just be with him. You can't love him, because that will make your final goals harder to reach. 

They split at the Great Hall, but not before he pressed a small note into her hand. She sat down and opened the note beneath the table. It bore three words. Astronomy tower, 2am.

She tried to stop the butterflies erupting in her stomach. She failed.

***

Macbeth couldn't wait for the meeting. Their meetings were like a drug he craved, her comforting presence grounding him and making him feel like he could just be himself. Being the son of two important people gave him many expectations to live up to, so he had to act a certain way in public. But when he was with her, he could drop all acts, and bare his soul. He felt entirely comfortable; he shared his secrets with her and she shared hers with him. It was with a certain level of expectancy that he waltzed through his classes that day.

***

At two o'clock, when the sun had set and the world should be quiet, two individuals were making their way through opposite ends of the castle, both with a common destination in mind. Each individual had mutual feelings towards the other, so emotions were running high as they navigated through the vast halls of the place they had made their home.

Macbeth was intensely looking forward to being able to just talk to his friend, who would maybe become more one day. 

Lady was conflicted. She knew she should not be doing this, as she needed to steel herself against the boy she had come to admire so much. But a tiny bit of her was desperately reaching out for him. So, almost against her will, she continued on. 

***

Macbeth was waiting for her in the astronomy tower. As her light footsteps grew closer, Macbeth looked up and smiled. “I knew you’d come.” She gave him a light smile in return, surprising him with how happy it was.

”I wanted to watch the sunrise with you. I thought we could sit and chat a while, and then watch all the colours float across the sky and become one with it. I even got food from the kitchens.”

”Sounds great.”

Lady’s voice sounded so unlike her own, that even she looked surprised. The darkness lurking forever behind her words was gone with those two words, and instead her voice sounded musical. Unbidden, though, the words of the more questionable part of her mind sounded in her head.

What are you doing? You’re supposed to be planning on how to take over the school and kingdoms around, not-

It stopped abruptly as Macbeth placed a light kiss on her cheek.

”Wha-“

”I want to have you by my side.”

She jerked in surprise, and Macbeth chuckled.

”You get me. You like all my secret ambitions, you listen to my worries and the darker side of my nature, you’re perfect for me. I... might love you.”

She scrambled up using the wall for support.

”This is wrong. I can’t do this. Not just yet. I’m sorry.” She took off at a run, not seeing properly through the sting of tears in her eyes. If she’d looked back, she would have seen the few tears run down from the man she’d come to love’s eyes, and she would have heard his whispered declaration.

”I want you at my side. No, I need you. I’ll do whatever it takes to win you over.”

***

Lady ran blindly down the corridors, her feet taking her to familiar territory. The set of hidden corridors near the potions classroom.

He couldn’t love her! Not when she would just take everything away from him! She couldn’t do this to him.

Love is a hindrance. Love is weak. Love is-

Her old mantra wouldn’t work anymore. Feet leading her to Slytherin, she collapsed into her bed. What was happening?

Love happens to those who,

Do not expect or deserve it,

Which is to say,

The whole o’th’human race.

Chapter Text

After a few minutes of silence, Duncan finally stopped his pacing. "I must confess something, my kin."

Malcolm looked up from his book on Transfiguration, alert as always, and Donaldbain groaned and lifted his head from where it had been resting on his arms. While Duncan had been carefully thinking and Malcolm dutifully reading and waiting, the younger brother had been fast asleep. Duncan frowned at him as Malcolm rolled his eyes.

"Wha?" Donaldbain said, still sounding very tired. "Oh. Uh, important meeting, yeah..."

"The truth is," Duncan continued, pretending nothing had interrupted him. "I am very, very afraid."

"Why?" Malcolm asked, setting his book down. "You are a benevolent leader, and have no enemies."

There was a pause, and Malcolm was suddenly very aware that the other two knew something he did not.

"You do have no enemies, right?" he said. Duncan let out a heavy sigh.

"There is a young Slytherin," Duncan began, "who has been rather rude to me, and who I believe is plotting against me. I believe that this student may be... dangerous."

"This is about that girl, Lady, isn't it?" Malcolm said, and his older cousin nodded. "She is new, and I believe she may have a past not as fortunate as ours, Duncan. Perhaps you should let her be."

"Did you not see what transpired at the start of term?"

"Yes. You attacked her, I believe?"

Donaldbain finally made an audible reaction, releasing a small scoff. "Yeah, it's all anyone can talk about. Besides Harry Potter, of course."

"I hope that boy does not cause trouble," Duncan said.

"Oh, he definitely will," Donaldbain assured him. "I heard rumours he's already struck up a solid rivalry with Malfoy and -"

"Stop," Duncan commanded, and his younger cousin fell silent. "The more pressing issue of Lady should be addressed."

"What is your verdict?" Malcolm asked, his book already back in his hands and he awaited the inevitable answer he knew would come.

"Lady," Duncan declared, "must be evil beyond comprehension."

"Hmm," Malcolm said, unsurprised. "I thought you might say that. Are you certain?"

"I have never been more certain." With that, Duncan left the room very suddenly. Having left his things behind, his cousins assumed he would return soon.

At this point, Donaldbain seemed to have had enough. He sat up fully and looked over at his older brother pointedly. "This, Malcolm. This is why you need new friends."

"My loyalties lie with Duncan," Malcolm commented, face still passive.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. But think about how your only friend is your cousin, hm?"

"I have other friends!" Malcolm protested, lowering his book. "What about Ross, Angus and the others?"

"Duncan's followers, not your friends," Donaldbain sighed. "Find some allies and people you feel comfortable around. Besides, our father wants you to get a girlfriend at some point, and you have no social skills."

"I do-"

The door burst open and Duncan was revealed, his hands full of parchment and a wild look in his eyes. "I have plans."

He let the paper fall from his fingers and onto a desk, where it revealed many sketches, essays and pages ripped from textbooks. Malcolm and Donaldbain stared in mingled horror and awe before exchanging a glance.

"I do not want to be associated with the fiasco that shall result from this," Malcolm decided, burying himself back in his book.

"Same," said his younger brother, resting his head back on his arms and preparing to sleep again.

"The basic plan is to meet Lady," Duncan explained despite their words. "Then I shall threaten her to stop her plotting, and she shall stop whatever malevolent actions she has set in motion."

"Duncan, no," Malcolm and Donaldbain protested at the same time.

"I shall get to work on this plan tomorrow," Duncan said.

Malcolm shook his head. "Here we go."

***

As Banquo strode through the halls, giving a brief tour to some first years in his house, he heard a familiar voice call out to him and turned his head to see his young cousin standing there.

"Banquo!" Fleance greeted excitedly. "I'm in your house! Can you believe it?"

"I'm not too surprised, Fleance," Banquo said with a smile, and the first years he was leading stopped and said hello to their new classmate. To explain, he told them, "This is my cousin, Fleance. Fleance, you must know Seamus, Dean and Neville?"

A small nod from the tiny boy. "Yep!"

"He's so cute and tiny," Neville whispered, though unfortunately his voice was not soft enough to be missed by Fleance.

"I am just your age!" Fleance protested, his little face scrunching up in annoyance as he stood on tiptoes to try and reach Neville's height.

After suddenly realising that his efforts were in vain, Fleance spun around and marched away. The other boys watched as he left, all with fond smiles on their faces as their instincts to protect kicked in (an experience which may be comparable to seeing Baby Yoda for the first time). Every single one of them had the exact same thought at the same time:

"We must protect him," Banquo announced, albeit quietly.

Dean nodded. "Sure, we'll keep an eye out and make sure he stays out of trouble."

"I'm in," Seamus said.

"Me too!" Neville piped in, and the others chuckled.

"I suspect we may have to keep watch over you, Longbottom," Banquo said. "You seem quite prone to disaster."

***

macduff: i... exist too...

In the Great Hall, sitting under a sea of swirling clouds, two young Gryffindors picked at their plates of vegetable mush (which tasted far better than it sounded). They both wore a rather downtrodden expression. After a few silent minutes of awkward glances, the older finally spoke up.

"Do you ever feel as if you're being forgotten?" he asked.

"Yeah," said the younger. "Even though my best friend is, like, super popular."

"Same!" the older exclaimed. "And you feel underappreciated?"

"Yes! I mean, I'm not that special, but I'm not useless."

"That's - that's how I feel!" the older gasped.

"Do you have a family that's really relevant and important to you?"

"YES! Do you have a strong sense of loyalty to those you care about?"

"I'd like to say so!"

The two boys beamed at their newfound camaraderie. Eventually, the older broke off the silence, and said:

"Say, do you have a crush too?"

The younger snorted. "I'm in first year! Of course not." Suddenly, he heard his name being shouted across the room and turned in exasperation. "Shut up, Hermione! the homework's not due until the day after tomorrow!"

The older boy made a sceptical face. "Sure..."

"What was that?" frowned the younger.

"Nothing."

They tucked into their meals, their appetites returned.

"What's your name, again?" asked the older.

"Ron," said the ginger, younger boy. "Weasley. How about you?"

The older boy smiled, and Ron perceived some kind of unwavering goodness in his entire demeanour. "Macduff. Call me Macduff."

Inside the walls, the others play their parts,

Not knowing of the lovers' breaking hearts.

They eat and talk and plan and laugh and plot

And we can see what our lady does not.

Chapter Text

Lady turned around for the twentieth time that day. Upon seeing no one behind her, she sighed and continued on. She was so sure that someone was following her! Yet she had no proof. How to catch them, how to catch them...

She tucked her wand under her arm, making sure the point was barely visible, and whispered under her breath.

”Stupefy.”

A startled yelp and the sound of a body hitting the floor sounded. She slowly turned around after ensuring her face was set in a scowl. It was that Duncan fellow from Gryffindor. She growled, binding him in ropes, and levitating him into an empty classroom nearby. She then enervated him by slapping him across his face, as she didn’t know the spell. He woke up slowly, groggy.

”Whaddya want?” He slurred.

Lady strode across the room and grabbed his robe from the front. “I want to know why you’ve been stalking me. All morning.”

Duncan whimpered, but then steeled his shoulders.

”I think you’ve been bewitching the teachers to like you, and I think you’re a dangerous witch who will probably become a Dark Lady.” His expression was defiant, and he was just spouting out vitriol that came to his mind. Much like other pureblood bigots to Muggleborns.

Lady sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ll tell you this. I respect the teachers, well, except for Binns because everyone falls asleep in his lessons. The other classes are engaging and I even have a healthy respect for Professor Snape. I-“

”Aha!” Duncan cried. “I heard that Professor Snape likes you. How did you do it? How did you bewitch him?”

”What House am I in? Slytherin. Professor Snape likes all the Slytherins. It’s logical. Anyway, I’ve had enough of you.”

She wheeled around after dispelling the ropes, and walked to the door. This turned out to be a mistake. 
.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Line break - stop reading if you can’t handle blood or it triggers you.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Diffindo!” The cowardly Gryffindor cried. 

She spun around, barely casting a shield that the curse went right through. She had jerked her head to the side, so it slashed her shoulder. Blood started pumping out the wound sluggishly, and it trickled down her arm in a steady stream. Lady was aware of how close it came to slashing her neck, so her vision turned slightly red.

”Stupefy!” She said again.

Duncan ducked and the curse sailed harmlessly past him. It also allowed her to see the desk behind him. She could try to summon it, although she’d only read about the spell.

”Come on, you slimy Slytherin. Use dark curses like you were born to do,” he taunted.

”Accio!” She cried, hoping against hope it would work. The desk scooted forward a tiny bit, but knocked into his legs gently. Damn. 

Duncan became angry again, trying to get her to use dark curses. “Reducto!” He shouted when she didn’t take the bait.

Lady saw no way out. This was how it would end. She tried to raise an absorptive shield but could only think of one spell, and she didn’t think it would absorb the shield. If it reflected the spell, he could dodge. “Protego,” she said weakly, not expecting it to hold up anyway.

The charm bounced off the shield, but some of the spell came through, causing her to duck hastily. The desk behind her shattered into dust. She dropped the shield, and curled up into a ball on the floor, magically exhausted. But she couldn’t give into the darkness that threatened to claim her. She had to see what he was going to throw at her next. As weakly as a newborn kitten, she raised her head slightly. Only to scream.

The first thing she saw was blood. Blood coated a few desks, a fair bit of the walls, and floor. The next thing was the body of Duncan. Except half of an arm and a leg were missing. They were bleeding at a much faster rate than Lady’s cut. The light in his eyes was quickly fading, and he lay prone on the floor.

Lady screamed again.
.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Line break - you can read from here.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

All of a sudden it seemed that the room was swarming with people. The teachers stopped short and stared at the mess, then at Lady lying in a ball on the floor. It seemed she was half-conscious, but she was mumbling under her breath. A calming draught was poured down her throat, and she became coherent enough to mumble the name of her confidant.

”Ma-Macbeth.” Then she lost consciousness.

Professor Snape was nearest to her, and he swore. 

”Magical exhaustion, and she’s lost a lot of blood.”

Just then, Macbeth rushed in, and made a beeline for Lady’s side.

”What happened? Lady, Lady, I’m here love, I’m here.”

He took her head on his lap and began to stroke her hair, mindful of her shoulder. She regained consciousness for a brief moment to mumble, “M’sorry. Was an accident. Don’t hate me.” Then she became unconscious again. Macbeth properly took in the face of the other, and let out a choked gasp. He took Lady into his arms, and took her to the infirmary.

”Oh, love, I could never hate you,” he said softly to her unconscious form. “I’ll always be here, and I don’t blame you. He probably attacked you first. They’ll do a spell to show the last spells from your wand, and it’ll be alright. Nothing will happen.”

He kissed her forehead, and sat in a chair by her bedside for the rest of the evening, where he fell asleep in the chair.

***

Macbeth took refuge at Lady’s bedside for the next few days, until her eyelids slowly fluttered open on the third day. She had a moment when she didn’t remember, but then she sat bolt upright.

”Macbeth?” She said weakly. Then she saw him, and began softly crying.

”I-I’m so sorry! He th-threw the first curse at me, and there was s-so much blood, and I-I just deflected the s-spell, and it just h-happened! I’m sorry!”

She buried her head into his chest, and gripped his shirt as her crying escalated into larger sobs that tore at Macbeth’s heart.

He put his arms around her and held her tightly while she sobbed herself out.

”Listen closely, love. I don’t blame you. You were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. If you deflected the spell, it was not your fault.” He put his hands on her cheeks, which still had tears slowly dripping down them as she calmed down. He pulled slightly away so he could see her face, and she could see his.

“It wasn’t your fault. I love you, I need you, and I can’t watch you break apart like that.”

She wiped the tears from her face, and was reduced to sniffling slightly.

”I-I’m a murderer now, you can’t love me.”

”No you’re not. You only did what you could. If they need to, they can take the memory out of your head, and view it like that. You’re innocent.”

He gently laid her back down on the bed.

”You’re emotionally and magically exhausted. Get some sleep. I’ll ask Madam Pomfrey if she can get you some dreamless sleep. You’ll need it.”

He returned several minutes later with the potion.

”I had to break into her stores - she wasn’t there,” he chuckled. “Each vial is a dose, so I’m not overdosing you. I even left a note for her. Now drink up.”

She gave a watery laugh, and downed the potion. 

”Goodnight, Macbeth,” she mumbled.

”Goodnight, Lady,” he whispered back, before he left the hospital wing to her soft, even breathing.

***

The next morning, Macbeth stumbled back into the hospital wing, and was met by the sight of Lady eating some porridge and making a face at the bland taste.

”Not good?” he said softly.

”Something like that,” she replied.

He held out the napkin with a few pieces of toast in it he had brought from the Great Hall. She took it, opened it, and a small smile flitted across her face.

”Thank you.”

”Now, onto why I’m here. In light of the events a few days ago,” her face crumpled slightly, “I spoke to the Gryffindors, and none of them blame you. Even Donaldbain and Malcolm, who are related to him, don’t blame you. They said Duncan’s ideas were dumb anyway, and they weren’t surprised he died by his own hand, even though you reflected the spell back to him.”

She gave a shaky sigh, and hugged him lightly.

”Thank you,” she breathed, and felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

Madam Pomfrey came in then.

”At lunchtime, you’ll be free to go, but until then, sleep.”

”Okay,” she said readily.

”I’ll see you after this morning's classes,” he said, kissing her pale cheek gently.

After he left, Lady thought about the butterflies that had, once more, erupted in her stomach when he kissed her cheek, regardless of her naturally depressed state.

The circle of life, th‘wise ones say,

Can only be completed by a loss of life.

One will blame oneself for the person who doth lay,

In th’place o’th’crime, impaled by his own knife.

Chapter Text

[TW applies here]

*

*

*

Yet again, Lady checked over her shoulder, anxious that she had a follower again, that it would lead to another death. There was nobody there. She carried on walking, but didn't seem to be getting anywhere. Something was off again.

She looked again.

This time, she saw an ajar door, something bright red coming out from underneath the gap under the door itself. Her breath caught as she recognised that particular shade of red - blood - and instantly urged herself to get out of here, now! However, somehow she found herself opening the door and soon she was staring at Duncan's corpse in horror, as if finding it for the first time.

She tried to scream, but couldn't find her voice, and there were no teachers, no Macbeth to help now.

No ! She couldn't be alone! Not here!

"LADY!"

*

*

*

[This is the line break! All text from here on out should be ok, but if you feel uncomfortable with it just skip to the end, where I'll summarise everything]

*

*

*

The scene cut to black and Lady's eyes snapped open to where she sat on a blank bed in the Hospital Wing. When had she sat up? She couldn't remember. Her mind raced, reeling with visions from the dream and the many thoughts racing in her mind.

"Lady?"

It was Macbeth calling her. She turned to look at him and found something akin to relief when he simply passed her a glass of water instead of questioning her. The icy water was refreshing, and she finally processed that the reason for the nightmare had been that she had forgotten her dose of dreamless sleep potion a few hours ago.

When she was finally ready and her breathing had calmed to a less frenzied rate, she set the glass down and swung her legs off the bed, ready to leave and go for a walk to clear her head.

"Where are you going?" Macbeth asked, concern clearly visible on his face.

She shrugged. "I need to get a book from my dorm."

It was usually easy for her to lie, but she felt incredible guilt at lying to this boy. He had only just saved her life, after all, and couldn't deny that she felt something - something that wasn't hate - towards him. Shaking off the sudden thought, she stood suddenly and swept out of the room before her expression could betray her.

Down the corridor she glided, still as tense as she had been in her dream. It took her a few minutes to get outside, but she made it there all the same. The world felt more open here, less trapped, and it was busy enough at the lake that she felt comforted by the safety in numbers.

She sat down on a small patch of darker grass that looked especially soft and crossed her legs, staring out at where the giant squid was swimming about near the surface. Taking a breath, she let herself relax for the first time in a while.

"Hey, Lady," said a slightly familiar voice, and Lady turned her head to look at the newcomer: Pansy Parkinson. Hmm.

"Parkinson," she replied curtly.

The other girl had made a fool of herself so far, simpering and giggling around Draco and refusing to do anything in class other than twirl her hair and stare into space. Frankly, Lady wasn't sure why she was acting this way - to her knowledge, only third and fourth years did so usually.

"I just wanted to have a little..." Parkinson paused to delicately pause and look around, making quite a show of it like the attention-seeker Lady knew her to be. "A little talk."

"Is that so?"

Parkinson sat down next to Lady and avoided her eyes, choosing instead to twirl a long piece of grass around her fingers. "I heard about what happened with that older Gryffindor. Duncan."

"Naturally."

"I'm sorry, and I'm amazed."

Lady turned to stare at her housemate; Parkinson had not approached her prior to this conversation besides to ask about her bloodline. "You're what?"

"I'm sorry," Parkinson said, still looking away, "because that must have been an awful experience. And I'm amazed because..." She trailed off, looking a little uncertain.

"Because?" Lady prompted, looking at Parkinson intently.

Parkinson made eye contact and a small smile appeared on her face. "Nobody else has ever stood up to Duncan, and he's older than us, and you - you survived!"

"I didn't know you cared about anything to do with Duncan, besides perhaps romance."

"So my acting is actually good?"

"Acting?"

Parkinson nodded, a grin on her face, and everything clicked. With a flash of thinking, Lady had reassessed everything she knew about the other Slytherin, and approved greatly of what she found. Lady held out a hand for the other girl to shake.

"It worked. Well done," she said, and Pansy shook her hand with a slowly growing beam.

"Do you need to talk about it, then?" she asked, and Lady knew what she was really talking about.

"I could do with an outside perspective."

"Well then, let's go to the common room!"

***

"What was he thinking?" Donaldbain hissed, trying to keep his face neutral so that the rest of the Great Hall wouldn't find out what he was feeling about his cousin's death. "He tried to kill her!"

"It wasn't part of the plan," Malcolm agreed. "I told him to just have a calm conversation, but it seems he desired an aggressive argument."

"Was that alliteration?" Lennox asked, but was ignored.

"We must still say something nice at his funeral," Malcolm said. "And what do we do about his competition?"

"IT doesn't seem that important right now," Ross countered.

"We run patrols, and need a leader," Siward (the older one) said. "Who shall we choose?"

"Perhaps a vote?" Macduff suggested from where he sat in the corner.

Donalbain turned to send him a confident nod. "A wonderful idea. Our candidates?"

The group discussed for a little before eventually deciding on a shortlist. Malcolm, Donaldbain, Macbeth, Banquo, Macduff and Older Siward all applied, and the final three that were decided on were Malcolm, Macbeth and Older Siward and they each had the best claims.

"Very well, let us commence the vote," Macduff announced, taking the role of leader on temporarily as Malcolm was a candidate. "All those voting for Malcolm?"

Perhaps if this had taken place days before, when the group had not heard of all the events that would come to pass, they would have more faith in the family and their ways. However, Malcolm had been Duncan's second-in-command, and this was no longer a good association to have. And perhaps this was why, when Macduff called out Malcolm's name, he barely got any votes, even less when excluding himself and his brother.

"And Macbeth?" Macduff asked, not reacting to the surprising amount of hands that rose at the second year's name. "And finally, Siward?"

And at the end of all of this, the next chosen 'king' became the very person who once thought he was miles away from the chance:

Macbeth.

The power shifts. The newest king shall rise,

And he shall keep his lady by his side.

The Slytherin is haunted by a death

But still shall find a way to calm her breath.

Chapter Text

To say Macbeth was surprised was an understatement. He'd been chosen as king! Of the castle, no less. He couldn't wait to tell Lady. But first, the weird sisters' words were ringing in his head, although he couldn't exactly remember what they said. He'd have to look over the memory in his pensieve in his trunk. He hurried over to his trunk and quickly retrieved said magical object from there, diving into it head first. When the cloud cleared, he listened intently to the words spewing out of the mouths, not unlike the Weasley twins, but more sinister.

"A prophecy is yours to fulfil, valiant soldier."

"Hail Macbeth, prince of the castle and lands around."

"Hail Banquo, worthy advisor and friend."

"Hail both, loyal and strong 'til the end."

"The prophecy is vague-"

"-and shall only be uncovered-"

"-by two companions whom-"

"-shall stay together-"

"-until the very end."

He looked upwards, making the pensieve deposit him into the empty dormitory again. He sat at his desk and began to write another letter to the girl he was falling in love with, since she was in the hospital wing again, getting dreamless sleep potions for the recurring nightmares she was having.

Dear Lady...

A couple of hours later, Macbeth had finished writing the letter, after numerous failed attempts, and was carefully rolling it up so he could attach it to the school owl that stood there waiting. But shouldn't he wait until she was better first? He shrugged and tied it to the owl anyway. She would have her potions now anyway, so he didn't see the problem. He carried the barn owl over to the windows, and let it flutter off his arm and into the pale blue sky.

***

A pale arm reached out and drew the barn owl close to her as she stopped near the hospital wing on her way back to the dungeons. She carefully unsealed the scroll and skimmed her eyes over it.

"Hmm, I see."

She rounded the corner and sat down on the bench, rereading the letter. 

Dear Lady, 

I have just been approached by two fellow students, Ross and Angus, and was told I was the new King of the grounds. I do not know whether to be thrilled by the news or not, for it indicates the prophecy which I told you about in my last letter.

All prophecies have a catch, and so I am searching for the catch in this. If it does, I doubt it would be good.

Please meet me in the abandoned classroom near the corridor directly across from the bottom of the Astronomy tower. That is, when you are out of the hospital wing. 

Your

Macbeth

She took the few precious seconds to reply in the affirmative, then hurried to the meeting spot.

***

As it was, he had not turned up, but he did once she was there. She assumed she had tripped a ward of some sort.

In his usual style, Macbeth got straight to the point. 

"I haven't uncovered the real prophecy yet, but I think that since I'm really close to Banquo, and we would die for each other, the prophecy will be revealed to us two. It also says that the prophecy will be vague, which might mean that there will be a lot of loopholes in that people can take advantage of and hurt the people closest to u-"

Lady's finger came on his lips and he instinctually quieted. 

"Hush. It's going to be fine. I doubt there will be as many loopholes as you say there will be. Plus, they are as precise as possible. Now, I want you to act as if you are the King to these grounds, and if you will, I will be there to advise you every step of the way."

Macbeth let out a sigh. 

"You're probably right. As usual."

Lady leaned against the wall and put her head back. But then she drew up again, and took a book from her bag. 

"Let me read to you. It will calm you down."

She smoothed the page, and began to read in a calming voice. 

"Among other public buildings in a certain town, which for many reasons it will be prudent to refrain from mentioning, and to which I will assign no fictitious name, there is one anciently common to most towns, great or small: to wit, a workhouse..."

Entranced, he listened as she read the first few chapters, ending when Nancy bade Oliver come back to their little room, where the Jew and Bill Sikes and the other men were waiting, and when the two gentlemen in the Brownlows' house remained sitting on either side of the watch.

She sat up and sighed. "I hope you're feeling calmer now."

"I am, thank you. And I'm sorry for unloading onto you."

He kissed her hand, and made to leave, when she placed a small kiss on his cheek, and hurried out of the room.

Macbeth stood there with a blush, and before long, left for Gryffindor Tower.

How long the man yearned for that kiss, 

That the woman placed upon his cheek, 

'Twas not intimate but slightly meek,

But when she is gone, he would miss't.

Chapter Text

She smiled up at the sky as she walked along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. There were particularly strong winds that night, but she truly appreciated it. It covered up the sound of her footsteps, her memories, her thoughts. Perhaps there was some greater Wizarding force watching over her, or perhaps it was a coincidence - she didn't know. But what did it matter? As long as she could achieve what she had set out to do, it would make no difference to her.

As another gust of wind almost blew her hat off, she raised a hand to cling onto its edge. It simply would not do to lose it so early in the year, and she did not want to attract any more attention than needed. Before anymore could happen to her clothing, she ducked into a small clump of trees in order to arrange her skirts properly. She was alarmingly good at presenting herself, her skills in staying formal and neat rivalling even Malfoy's.

Above her, the wind whipped the trees against each other, setting a rather fitting soundtrack to the moon dappled grounds. The clouds seemed to drift in front of the white Sickle in the sky, their mood as agitated as her emotions. The overall result was shafts of light that varied in intensity as the seconds ticked by, accompanied by the harsh sounds of the tortured trees and the cruel wind.

She rose from her temporary hiding spot and stared out at her path, hoping it would still be safe to travel down. Somehow, the dirt pathway seemed to glow like the moon above, a stark contrast to the dark grass all around. Because of this clarity, she drew herself from her position and continued down the path.

For a few minutes, she stepped lightly along the ribbon of silver, her skirts barely flapping and her back straight. Something ancient and noble seemed to glow from her, and had there been any passers-by, they would have recognised it.

But nobody saw her as she drew up to a small collection of stones lying at the base of a particularly large tree. Nobody saw her as she arranged them in a circle, cast a spell and sat inside, warm in the small space she had enchanted. Nobody saw her.

And then someone did.

His feet were louder than hers had been, and she heard them long before she saw him emerge from over the top of the path. With the cloak rippling behind him and the regal look to his features, he almost appeared to be riding on a horse, like some noble warrior returning home after another battle won.

She blinked, and the illusion faded.

Curling her arms around her knees, she watched with an utterly calm expression as he approached and slowed at her circle of stones. Even as he stepped inside, joining her at her side as they stared out over the grounds, she did not say a word or acknowledge his presence.

Finally, she turned her face towards his and smiled softly.

"It's good to see you, King Macbeth," she whispered, and her tone was both laden with hidden meaning and light with pride.

His eyes met hers. "And you, my Queen."

The tale has crowned him as the rightful king,

But can he deal with all that it shall bring?

And while he may sit and enjoy his post,

How long is it until they see a ghost?