Two Old Friends

Chapter 1

We sit across from each other, unsure what to say to each other. I try not to stare, but I feel that I am unable to believe my eyes. There she is. Sitting right there before me. She looks as I have always seen her. Her hair has the same unruly curls, her eyes are as blue as they always were, though hardened over the years I've witnessed, her skin as dark as it had always been naturally.

"So, we're finally back together," she says, making the first vocal move, her Spanish accent is thick like cool honey. I nod with a heavy sigh.

"It definitely seems that way," I respond. More silence surrounds us. It is uncomfortably thick and impossible to swim out of. This atmosphere, as peaceful as it appears with the moon glowing admirably in the dark sky and stars twinkling like dainty pebbles under water basking in the sunlight, is itchy with the eons of history between us makes the picture's worth a fiery inferno. Adriana Usoa Rodriguez y de la Galena is this woman's name. I know her well. She knows me well. We are both equally stubborn. These reasons are why our story is somewhat worthy of this parchment. Needless to say, our life wasn't boring together. I have regrets and I'm sure Adriana has them as well. However, due to our stubbornness neither of us are likely to apologize, despite how strongly ropes of remorse tug at our guts.

"How's Rosalyn?" Adriana inquires quietly, almost shamefully. I look up, almost daring to give her the sympathy she always wanted but refused. I recall the young blonde girl that Adriana is referring to.

"Wonderfully," I answer. Adriana chews on her lip, a habit of hers I've always found irritating.

"What does she look like?" she furthers the inquiry. I'm tempted to imply that she is perfectly capable of seeing her herself, but I fight back that temptation.

"Beautiful as ever," I answer. "She's inherited her mother's curls, her father's blonde gene. She has dazzling hazel eyes, I've no idea where those came from, but that's beside the point. Her father's chiselled features, her mother's height - or lack thereof." Adriana smirks at my teasing. It is good to know we are in lukewarm waters.

"I miss her," Adriana states monotonously. I nod my understanding. She has yet to make eye contact and I've yet to dare myself to try. We stare ominously into the two separate candle flames. We watch their mystical dance as we wallow in our pool of unease, guilt, and apprehension.

~*~

I was ten years old when I met Adriana. Adriana was a skinny little girl about a head shorter than me when she moved into the house next to mine. We were both victims of domestic abuse. We only spoke together because our fathers were both followers of the Dark Lord and very well acquainted with one another. Adriana was a pureblood; as far as I knew then, but I would later find out she was actually half blood, but that is a detail for later on in the story. Her mother, Esperanza Erendira, was a woman from Mexico and of exquisite beauty. Her father, Antonio Rodriguez, was a Spanish and French mix and had his cult of female admirers, so the reason for Adriana's unconventional beauty is not one of great mystery. Adriana also had an older sister who moved from Adriana's home in Spain to somewhere in France a year before Adriana moved to the manor next to mine in London. I know very little about her older sibling, only that her name was Lupe and married someone called Christopher Lopez in Paris. I've over heard our two families talk to each other about small things like this on many occasions.

One night The Dark Lord held a meeting at Adriana's manor so our fathers were over there, and Adriana and Esperanza were in my home. Mother and hers chatted away over tea and Adriana and I sat at the table, listening to their conversation and occasionally sipping our own tea. Once in a while we glanced at each other. I couldn't help but notice half her face was bruised. Esperanza had a bruise on her cheek hastily covered with make up, as well.

"It just makes me so mad," Esperanza was saying, her thick accent portraying her agitation. "I don't mind his servitude and loyalty to the Dark Lord, but I would appreciate it if he kept it outside of our house." Mother nodded understandably, sipping her tea.

"Severus, drink your tea or put it in the kitchen," she told me softly as I fiddled with the tea bag. I sipped it and rested my head on my fist.

"It's not that I don't support him in his noble fights against the filth that are Muggles and Mudbloods polluting our air, but I just wish him to keep those things with him and at work, you know? I don't need Adriana seeing those things and getting hurt and what not before she understands what the cause is." Mother nodded again.

"At least the children have the separate houses so they don't get too involved," Mother replied.

"Would you like a ginger newt, Adriana?" she asked her kindly. Adriana looked up at my mother, not speaking. "Severus, give your friend a ginger newt." Why she called her my friend, I've no clue considering I never spoke to her unless forced to. I placed a few biscuits on the girl's saucer and she quietly thanked me and started breaking off bite size pieces off of one. She winced when she chewed.

"What happened to your pretty face, Adriana?" Mother asked. Adriana swallowed painfully, looked at her mother, and then Mother's.

"I fell," she said. It was difficult understanding her due to her accent, but her shifty glances at her mother and her mother's own shifty expression spoke volumes of the lie.

"She does that a lot, the poor dear. She's very accident prone," Esperanza said, patting her daughter's head. Mother clearly knew of the lie, as well, and looked at them sympathetically and offered more tea. Adriana and I glanced at each other, both knowing of her poor lying skills.

Hours passed as the hens gossiped and exchanged family stories. Eventually, it struck midnight and Death Eaters started Disapparating from Adriana's lawn. Mother told me to escort Adriana and Esperanza to their manor and I did so, giving them their cloaks.

"Thank you, Severus. You're turning out to be a lovely gentleman," Esperanza said, smiling warmly at me. Esperanza had warm brown eyes and a well-shaped face with dark skin and wavy black hair that fell just below her shoulders. She was curvy and made many of the neighbourhood boys swoon. She patted my head, and then she and Adriana entered their home. I sauntered back to my own.

"That woman is impossible!" Mother vented as soon as I entered through the door.

"Pardon?"

"Letting her child parade about in public with half her face bloodied! She makes a mockery of family values! The child should always be properly mended before going out! And she hardly covers her own bruises! She flaunts herself like she's perfection and has nothing to hide! No wonder she's bruised every hour of the day - can't be controlled. And she comes here complaining about how her husband always puts his foot down, et cetera, et cetera! She's obviously not hit hard enough to get the message!" Mother was one of those women who feel they deserved their beatings when they received them, even if they were over nothing.

"Mother, you get beaten," I said before thinking. Suddenly I felt a tingling against my face where Mother slapped me for not holding my tongue.

"What was that, young man?" she demanded, her dark eyes narrowing. I saw her wand clenched in her hand. I shook my head.

"Nothing, ma'am."

"Better be. Get your arse downstairs," she commanded. I nodded and sauntered downstairs to the basement, which was where I slept. Hours later, Father stumbled in, drunk. I heard muffled voices and then things breaking. Soon followed by Mother screaming and then Father's disturbing moans of pleasure I now know the reason behind. Father usually beat Mother because he found something wrong with his dinner or she didn't suck him the right way. My parents had a very active sex life. Though it sounded more like Father came home, ripped her clothes off, and used the Imperius on her to do things I truly do not wish to think of. Then he'd snap her out of it, and beat her with his own fists and a number of spells.

Our family-beating schedule was this: Father beat Mother and occasionally me if Mother wasn't home. Mother beat me to get her frustrations out. It was during these hours I spent reading the books I stole from Father's office and learnt all the curses my father learned far after his own years at Hogwarts.

"Severus, come," Father's baritones came the morning after. I blinked away whatever slumber I managed to adopt and slowly brought myself to my feet to oblige to his order.

"Yes, sir?" I inquired, erasing all notes of sleepy mindlessness one has when first awoken. This was a trick I had mastered by the age of five.

"Get dressed, your lessons will start in exactly five minutes." It was Saturday. Father was an Unspeakable and kept the secrets of the Department of Mysteries very well hidden from everyone except for the Dark Lord. However, despite his commitment to his work, he did get weekends off and did devote his time to educating me. He firmly believed that he had to test the knowledge Mother gave me and squash any old wives' tales she managed to make me believe.

So, I dressed and managed to save enough time to brush my teeth in the sink and loo that was in my room. I rushed my self up to the cold steps to the rest of the room to learn these lessons. Today I was to learn to identify the differences between poisons and other such potions. He placed them all in identical, label-less vials and I had to choose which to imbibe. I spent five minutes eyeing them all and sniffing them. I finally took the one that was not a harmful potion and downed it. It was pepper up potion. He charmed my ears so they would stop steaming and gave me a reluctant smirk telling me of his approval.

"Good, then. Now, you will tell me your knowledge of the theories behind the curses Mother taught you."

"The Serpent Curse will summon a serpent, but only if the one who summons is a true Slytherin. This is because the serpent will only be loyal to those who have the same intentions as it. It does not necessarily mean that the one who summons must be from the house Slytherin, because not everyone who casts this will be from Hogwarts and people's ideals and principals are able to change after their schooling. They must have the want and need to prove something their vindictiveness and loyalty to the master of their convictions whether the master is the rebel of wizarding society or a theory. The word one uses to cast is serpensortia," I said. It was the first curse that came to mind. I expected to see a glimmer of appraisal in my father's eyes, but I saw shrewdness mingled with it.

"I do not recall placing the Serpents Curse on the list of things for your mother to teach you," he said quietly. I paused. It must have been a curse in one of the books I stole from Father's office. "Did she teach you this?" His voice was barely above a whisper. This was the tone I would learn to threaten people with when I grew.

"Y-yes. Yes, yes she did," I said, my voice growing more confident after the first confirmation. He continued to eye me suspiciously. He knew I lied, but he smirked.

"You may be a Slytherin after all," he said with satisfaction. I knew then that he was to beat Mother for 'disobeying' him, though he knew that she did no such thing. I had such resentment for her, that I did not care.

"Thank you, sir," I said as I was trained to every time he granted me this compliment. He bristled his slim moustache importantly.

"Tell me of Adofo."

"Adofo, a curse formed in Egypt, is not different from the Patronus Charm or Crutacious Curse, but instead of thinking happy thoughts to arm oneself against a dementor, one must have the anger and sadism that one has to cast the Crutacious Curse. It brings out the form of one's Patronus and it fights and brings unbearable pain upon the victim."

"Hamar."

"The Hammering Jinx is from the Norse formation and will bring excruciating pain to the victim's head as if being walloped about the head with a Hammer. The effect of the blow is depending on the magical strength of the caster. It is better off used after being hit by another curse so the jinx itself will know how much pain to cause upon the victim. It is not a good jinx to start a duel, but a good one to end a duel."

"Chu'mana."

"The Snake Maiden Hex is originally from the Red Indian tribe, the Hopi Red Indians, and it goes particularly well with the Serpent's Curse. It can only be thrown by a particularly strong witch or wizard, but mainly witches. Few wizards have been powerful enough to cast this. However, it does require the same state of mind as serpensortia. What it does is cast the song of the Snake Maiden calling to her Basilisk and if the caster is strong enough, he or she will be temporarily be possessed by the basilisk's powers to kill by eye contact or petrify by indirect eye contact."

"Very well. That is enough with curses. You shall start on a potion I wish you to learn. Get your cauldron." I obliged and hauled my cauldron from the basement. He refused to go into my basement room unless forced to. He would not lower himself to my status.

"You will be learning to put together a particularly difficult potion of my own creation. It is called the Draught of Thurleah. Thurleah is an English name meaning from Thor's garden. You know enough of Egyptian Magic to know that Thor was the god of storm. This will take exactly twenty seven days to make. I will not tell you what it does. You are to take these ingredients and by the directions you are to figure out what the ingredients do and how they react against or with each other. Here are the ingredients," he waved his wand and the ingredients and a parchment telling what to do appeared on the desk. "And here are the instructions. I shall observe and correct you."

I spent the rest of the day without food or water slaving over this potion. This was something I had grown accustomed to, and it no longer bothered me. Creating a potion my father instructed became my passion and such pesky inconveniences as food and water came secondary to how freshly squeezed my rose water was.