✦ AUTHOR'S NOTE

Due to some unforeseen things, we'll be writing the Second Task before the Yule Ball. Yes. Thank you. I don't know why I did that.

Snow drifted lazily past the them as Harry, Hermione, and Aria stood in the open bridge, staring out like three philosophers contemplating life—or at least pretending to.

"Harry. Aria. You told me you figured the egg out weeks ago," Hermione said, arms folded like the human embodiment of homework.

Aria lifted a shoulder, trying her best Who, me? innocence. "I tried, babe, but it just... wasn't giving answers."

Hermione's skeptical stare said everything.

"The task is in two days," she reminded sharply.

Harry blinked. "Really? I had no idea. I bet Viktor's already solved his."

Hermione sighed. "Wouldn't know. We don't talk about the tournament. Actually, we don't really talk at all. Viktor's more of a... physical being."

They both stared at her.

She flushed. "I just mean he's not very loquacious. Mostly he watches me study. It's a bit annoying."

Aria snorted. Harry cracked up. Hermione looked as if she regretted speaking entirely.

"You are trying to figure this egg out, right?" Hermione asked, frowning.

Aria placed a hand over her heart. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means these tasks are designed to test you in the most brutal ways. They're almost cruel," Hermione said uneasily.

Looking at her so worried, Aria stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Hermione from behind. "Relax, woman. We're not planning to die."

"I'm scared for you two," Hermione murmured. "You survived the dragons on pure nerve. I'm not sure that'll be enough this time."

Before Aria could respond— "Hey, Potter! Potter! Aria!" Cedric shouted across the corridor.

Aria let Hermione. 

"Hey! How—how are you two?"

"Spectacular," she and Harry deadpanned in perfect harmony.

He jogged over. "I never really thanked you for warning me about the dragons."

"Forget it," Harry said. "You'd have done the same."

"Exactly." Cedric nodded. "Listen, the Prefects' bathroom on the fifth floor? Not a bad place for a bath. Take your egg, soak, think. Helps."

Then he ruffled Aria's hair—lightly, annoyingly, affectionately—and strolled off like a prince who had just dropped a slightly cryptic skincare tip.

✦ THAT NIGHT — The Prefects' Bathroom

Aria slipped into the steamy bathroom only to find Harry already neck-deep in bubbles.

"Wow, speedy. When'd you get here?" she asked, kneeling beside the bath.

Harry nearly levitated out of the water. "Aria! Get out—I'm naked!"

"Well, obviously," she said, rolling her eyes.

Harry stared. "Are... are you taking your clothes off?"

"In your dreams," Aria scoffed, rolling her eyes. "If my brother finds out I was naked in front of someone—a boy—I might as well schedule my funeral."

She then cannonballed into the water.

"Put the egg under the water and open it," she instructed, pushing wet hair off her face.

Harry did. The moment the shell cracked underwater, a haunting melody echoed around them:

"Come seek us
Where our voices sound
We cannot sing
Above the ground
An hour long you'll have to look
To recover what we took."

They surfaced, and Aria exclaimed, "It's the merpeople from the Black Lake! I saw them in the Slytherin common room—oh, and, Harry, you've got a big—"

Harry immediately smacked her arm and slapped a hand over her mouth. "You do not finish that like!" he hissed.

She burst into laughter, nearly choking on lake water.

"Leaving that aside," Aria said, wiping my face getting off the water, "how are we supposed to hold our breath for an entire hour?"

Harry blinked at me. "Yeah? How?"

"I've got a potion," She said confidently. "You go get Hermione and Ron's idea."

"Wait—why can't I just use your potion?" he demanded.

"Well..." Aria drawled, already swimming away. "Because it works. On me. Female. You need a uterus for it. Won't work on you. Side-effects. Goodbye!"

And She left him spluttering behind her.

The Day Finally Arrived.

As the second task crept closer, Aria recruited Pansy and Blaise to help her perfect her transformation into Aquatic Aria—the unofficial mermaid of Hogwarts.

Very glamorous. Very heroic.

Then, of course, on the way to the water arena trouble arrived in stereo.

Fred and George.

"Any bets? Any bets! Come on, place your bets!" they chanted like hyperactive bookies.

Aria stared at them. "You two are unbelievable. People might actually die today, and your first instinct is—gambling?"

"Oh, come on, Aria. How else are we supposed to make money for our future shop?" Fred countered.

Aria blinked. "You're... opening a shop?"

"After we graduate," George added proudly.

"Let me invest," Aria said immediately.

They exchanged impressed nods, turning what should have been a nerve-wracking morning into a surprising business meeting.

Then she spotted Harry.

"You ready?" he asked.

"Yeah," Aria replied, frowning. "Fifty-fifty. Give or take. Maybe less."

Harry turned to Neville for reassurance. Aria scanned the area—still no Ron, no Hermione, no Draco.

"Sure about this, Neville?" Harry pressed, feeling nervous.

"Absolutely," Neville said confidently.

"For an hour?" Aria asked.

"Most likely," he replied.

"Most likely?" Harry repeated, panicked.

Neville hesitated. "Well, there is some debate among herbologists about the effects of fresh water versus salt water—"

"You're telling me this now?" Harry groaned.

Aria smacked the back of his head. "Shut up and be grateful he's helping."

Neville straightened. "I just wanted to help."

"And you did," Aria agreed patting him. "Which already makes you slightly better than Ron and Hermione. Speaking of—where are they?"

"Good question," Harry muttered.

Aria glanced around again. "And Draco's missing too. Great. Abandonment issues unlocked."

The arena for the Second Task wasn't on the shore at all—it sat right in the middle of the river, a circular platform anchored against the slow current. 

The judges' table hovered on a raised dock beside it, students crowded the stands, chattering with excitement.

As they entered the lakeside stands, Dumbledore's amplified voice boomed across the cold air:

"Welcome to the Second Task. Last night, something was stolen from each of our champions— a treasure of sorts."

Treasure. Great. Nothing ominous about that at all. 

She exhaled sharply and muttered, "Oh, brilliant. Wait—don't tell me it's Karl." Her eyes widened in dawning horror. "No wonder I haven't seen that brat since this morning."

"These five treasures, one for each champion, now lie at the bottom of the Black Lake.
In order to win, each champion must find their treasure and return to the surface."

Aria clutched a mysterious potion, took a breath, and muttered, "Well. Fantastic. Nothing like mild drowning to start the day." 

While Harry stared down at his lump of gillyweed. Both of them looked at their respective items as if they were judging their chances of survival.

"Will this even work?" Aria muttered, eyeing the potion, suspiciously. "I didn't have enough time to test it. I'm not going to drop dead the second I hit the water, right? And the most important thing is..."

The unfinished sentence hung between her and Harry.

"Put that in your mouths," Moody barked.

They obeyed immediately — mostly because Moody yelling at them felt like a threat to their continued existence.

Aria shoved the potion into her mouth.

Easy for him to say.

Moody gave them a shove, and both plunged into the water. The moment the cold swallowed her, panic spiked through Aria.

Because, for the record, I absolutely cannot swim.

But then—something shifted. A mermaid tail unfurled around her legs, "It worked!!" She slicing through the water with all the grace of an aquatic princess.

She followed the distant sound of wailing and found Harry dragging Ron and another girl upward like some heroic, half-drowned lifeguard.

Next, she spotted Draco — limp, unconscious, and held by merpeople.

Aria cut through the water, only for the merfolk to block her. With a sharp blast of magic, she cleared the way, grabbed Draco, and shot up toward the platform.

Draco collapsed into her shoulder, coughing violently. "Cough—cough They've killed me — they've killed me!"

Aria snorted, patting his back as towels were whisked around them. "You're not dead. Stop auditioning for a tragedy."

He lunged forward, still dripping, and hugged her. For a second, her heart stuttered.
"My father will hear about this," he muttered into her shoulder.

Aria laughed, the sound shaky but fond. "You got a tail," He said eyes going down, touching the shimmering scales lightly.

"Yes, indeed, I did," she said, warmth curling in her chest from his touch. 

"They dragged me under! I thought I was a goner," Draco insisted, chest still heaving.

"Relax, drama king. We've all had our underwater trauma today. It builds character."

As the clock chimed, nerves tightened around Aria's spine. Ron surfaced with Fleur's sister, but Harry.....

Harry wasn't there.

Her heart dropped. She tensed, ready to dive straight back into the lake—but Draco snagged her arm mid-step.

"Aria, where are you going?" he demanded, eyes wide.

"Harr—" she started, panic rising in her throat—

And then WOOSH—a surge of water exploded upward. Harry burst from the water like a confused, gasping.

Aria reached out and hauled Harry up onto the platform, her shimmering tail dissolving into legs. Harry collapsed onto the wood, wheezing. 

Hermione and Ron rushed in immediately, throwing towels over him.

Harry panted, "I—I think I lost—"

Draco scoffed from behind. "Obviously."

Aria smacked his arm. "Not the time, Draco."

Hermione knelt beside Harry, pressing a quick kiss to his temple. "Oh, Harry... no, you didn't fail. Fleur didn't even finish her task—we don't know the results yet."

Ron nodded vigorously, hovering over Harry. Dumbledore appeared and began conferring with the judges. Aria exchanged a tense look with Harry.

What now?

The verdict arrived.

"Cedric in first, Harry in second, Krum in third, and Aria in fourth."

Aria exhaled, relieved. "At least I'm alive. That's honestly good enough for me."

Their laughter mingled with the dripping chaos around them.

Moody stomped up. "Handled yourselves well. Now go dry off and rest. Tomorrow's another day in this madhouse."

As the others drifted away, Draco stepped closer — too close. His voice dropped low, softer than she'd ever heard it.

"Mermaid or not... you saved me down there," he murmured. "Thanks."

Aria swallowed, pulse skipping. "Anytime, Draco. Just... don't expect me to sprout a tail on command."

Draco lingered, eyes flicking to her lips for a heartbeat he probably didn't realize she noticed.

"Come on," Aria's breath hitched, brushing his arm lightly. "Let's get out of this puddle before you dramatically declare death again."

Draco smirked faintly — and they walked out together hand in hand.

That night, exhaustion dragged Aria under fast—too fast. And then she was standing in a cold, rotting graveyard.

Cedric was there. Alive. Confused.

And Voldemort—pale, reptilian, smiling like decay—lifted his wand.

"Kill the spare."

Green light burst, and Cedric fell like he'd been unplugged from life.

Aria couldn't breathe.

Voldemort's eyes slid to her. "And you, wife... will you kneel?"

Her body moved before sense returned. She stepped forward—like Cordelia, chin high, a dark smirk painting itself onto her lips, tugged her toward him, making her want to survive, to bow, to belong—

"Good girl," Voldemort hissed.

Aria reached him—fingers brushing his cold cloak— and snapped awake.

"Haah!!"

She shot up gasping, curled into herself on the couch in the Gryffindor common room. 

Her vision swam. Tears blurred everything. Her face burned hot, her palms were ice. Sweat clung to her neck.

"Aria?" Hermione's voice sliced through the fog.

Aria blinked rapidly. Hermione was kneeling beside her, worried. 

"What happened? You were screaming." Ron hovered behind her, pale. 

Harry stood stiffly, wand in hand like he expected a monster to appear any second. And behind them, a handful of sleepy Gryffindors watched with wide, alarmed eyes.

Aria pressed a shaking hand to her forehead. "Bad dream," she rasped. "Actually—no. A very, very bad dream."

Hermione softened. "We're going to Hagrid's. Come with us? Fresh air will help."

Aria swallowed hard. "Yeah... yeah. Okay."

She pushed herself upright, legs trembling, and grabbed a shawl draped over the armchair. Wrapping it tightly around herself, she followed the trio toward the portrait hole.

Anything was better than staying in that nightmare alone.

As they wandered past Hagrid's hut, the half-giant was already deep in one of his throwback speeches, Ron and Hermione listening dutifully. 

Harry and Aria drifted ahead. "Was it Voldemort again?" he asked quietly. "Yeah... but this time he called me, so I went, I can still feel him against my fingers," she muttered.

"Oh, Aria," He slipped an arm around her shoulders, rubbing her arms gently in comfort. "It'll be alright, don't worry."

Aria stiffened for a moment, then quietly leaned against his shoulder.

"I remember when I first met you lot," Hagrid said fondly. "Biggest bunch of misfits I ever set eyes on. Suppose you remind me of meself a bit."

Hermione smiled. "And here we are, four years later—still a bunch of misfits."

"Maybe so," Hagrid chuckled. "But you've all got each other. And Harry. And Aria, o' course. Soon to be the youngest Triwizard champions ever! Hooray!"

Aria muttered under her breath, "Fantastic. Immortality through stress," but she smiled anyway.

Then she stopped short. Someone was sprawled on the ground.

"Mr. Crouch?" Aria called, dropping to her knees. She shook his shoulder gently. No response. Her fingers pressed against his neck—nothing.

Her voice cracked through the night. "Hagrid! HAGRID!" He lumbered over immediately. "Blimey, Aria—what's happened?"

"He's dead," she said, shaken up. 

Later that night, Aria slipped into her nightgown and crawled into bed with Karl, who had decided—rudely—to grow heavier every night. 

She groaned. "Karl, love, you're becoming a weighted blanket with scales."

The door creaked open.

"Aria? You awake?" Harry asked.

"Sadly," she sighed, hauling herself up. She pulled on her robes, shoved on her shoes, and followed him into the corridors. 

She expected some dramatic secret walk—but Harry guided her straight to Dumbledore's office. As he raised his hand to knock, the door swung open on its own.

"Oh, Harry! Princess ! Lovely to see you," Fudge greeted them. Moody gave Aria a once-over. "Well, don't you look ravishing tonight."

Aria looked down at her cleavage, then tugged her robes higher up her chest. "I thought it would just be Dumbledore. Didn't realise there'd be... an audience."

"We can come back later," Harry offered noticing the tension.

"No need," Dumbledore said quickly. "The Minister and I are finished. I'll return in a moment. Minister, after you."

They were left alone—until a shimmering basin appeared on the desk.

Harry, naturally incapable of resisting magical danger, tapped it with his wand. And instantly, both of them were pulled into swirling water.

The Pensieve plunged them into the trial of Igor Karkaroff, and the grim arrest of Crouch's son. When they resurfaced, dripping in silence, Dumbledore returned.

"Curiosity is not a sin," he said calmly, "but it must be handled with caution. This is a Pensieve—quite useful when one's mind is... a bit overcrowded."

Dumbledore's eyes darkened. "I have searched and searched for some detail I overlooked. Yet every time I near the truth, it slips away. Maddening, truly."

Harry and Aria shared a look—one part fear, one part awe, and one part why does this always happen to us?

"Sir? Mr. Crouch's son... what exactly happened to him?" Harry asked curiously.

"He was sent to Azkaban," Dumbledore replied quietly. "It nearly destroyed Barty to do it. But he had no choice—the evidence was overwhelming. Why do you ask?"

Harry hesitated, then said, "It's just... I had a dream about him. Back in the summer, before school. I was in a house. Voldemort was there—only he wasn't... human. Not fully. And Wormtail was there too. And Mr. Crouch's son."

Dumbledore's brows lifted. "Have there been others like this dream?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. Always the same. Sir... these dreams. What I see—you don't think it's actually happening, do you?"

"I think," Dumbledore said gently, "that it is unwise to dwell on them. Cast them from your mind."

They turned to leave—only to realize they'd wandered straight into the tiny Potions-ingredients closet.

Inside, Karkaroff thrust his sleeve at Snape. "It's a sign, Severus. You know what it means as well as I do."

Snape's eyes flicked toward Harry and Aria, pure disdain sharpening his gaze. Karkaroff swept out dramatically, leaving only tension and the faint smell of regret.

Harry and Aria tried to slip away.

No such luck.

"Ariana. Potter. What's your hurry?" Snape stepped forward. 

His gaze flicked over Aria for a fraction of a second—barely a twitch—yet enough to register how striking she looked in the lamplight. She's grown into a fine woman, he noted, expression betraying nothing.

"Congratulations. Your performance in the Black Lake was... inspiring. Gillyweed, was it?"

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered.

Snape nodded once going in, climbed a ladder, and retrieved a small bottle. He held it out. "Do you know what this is?"

Harry blinked. "Uh... bubble juice, sir?"

Aria looked at him like he'd suggested drinking acid. Then she casually answered, "Veritaserum." Taking it from him to take a better look at it.

Snape let her, eyes gleamed. "Correct, Miss Ariana. Three drops of this and even You-Know-Who would sing like a canary. Its use on students is—tragically—prohibited."

His gaze sharpened. "However, should you ever steal from my private stores again, my hand may... slip... over your morning pumpkin juice."

"I didn't steal anything!" Harry protested offended.

"Don't lie to me," Snape hissed. "Gillyweed is harmless enough, but boomslang skin? Lacewing flies? You and your little friends are brewing Polyjuice Potion. And believe me—" he leaned in, voice dangerously soft, "I will find out why."

He slammed the door on their face, nearly catching Aria's sleeve.

As they trudged toward Gryffindor Tower, Aria let out an exhausted groan.

"Oh, Harryyyyy," she whined, flinging her head back. 

"What happened, Aria?" he asked, voice flat.

"I still have the Veritaserum," She held up the small vial. "It's been in my pockets this whole time."

Harry groaned. "Well, I'm not going back. If I see his face right now, I swear I'll punch him."

Aria snorted. "Violence... therapeutic. Noted." She patted his shoulder. "It's fine, I'll go myself before you commit a felony."

She made her way back to the Portions Ingredients room—locked. Perfect. So she swallowed her pride, marched to Snape's office, and knocked.

"Come in," his low voice echoed.

She stepped inside. Snape sat behind his desk, reading, candlelight making him look unfairly attractive. 

Aria blinked once. 

Honestly, why is he allowed to look like that? Should be illegal.

"What do you want, Ariana?" Snape asked without looking away for long.

"I—sorry to disturb you, Professor. I accidentally took the Veritaserum. I came to return it before Harry has a nervous breakdown."

He extended his hand. She stepped forward and placed the vial gently into his palm.

"You didn't use it, did you?" Snape asked, rising from his chair and circling the desk. He stopped in front of, leaning one hand on the table—casual, composed, and entirely too attractive.

Why does he have to look that good while interrogating me?

"No, sir. If you don't believe me, feel free to check my soul or something."

"Very well," he said.

She turned to leave—only for his hand to wrap around her wrist.

"Sir?"

Aria was startled when Snape suddenly closed the distance, tugging her toward him. Her hands landed flat against his chest.

"Sir?" she breathed, blinking up at him, completely thrown. 

This is... not very Snape-ish behavior.

Before she could speak, his mouth was already on hers.

"Hah—!" she gasped, eyes wide, the shock shooting straight through her—just long enough for him to slip his tongue past her parted lips.

"Mhm—Nhm!?" Her fingers curled against his chest, pushing him back, Snape didn't budge a bit.

The vial in Snape's hand clattered to the floor, and his grip slid firmly around her waist. He hauled her flush against him, gaze flicking over her with unmistakable hunger before he kissed her deeper.

Aria's thoughts scattered.

EXCUSE ME—WHAT—HELLO??

Ha—!" Aria's breath hitched when Snape tugged gently at her bottom lip, "Severus, what are you..." Her hands climbed instinctively to his shoulders, nails lightly digging in.

Snape kissed her again, deeper this time, one hand firm on her waist while the other tipped her chin upward just right. 

Aria blinked once... twice... then finally let her eyes flutter shut, giving in. Her arms slid around his neck, fingers threading into his hair as she tilted her head and kissed him back—

If we're doing this, I'm doing it properly.

Snape made a low sound against her mouth, something close to a groan, and his heart lurched in his chest. 

In a sudden, breathless rush, he backed her into the table. The impact rattled the ink bottle, sending it toppling over the edge, ink splattering across the parchment.

Snape's hands slid lower, gripping her thighs with a firm, decisive pull. 

"Hnn—!" Aria let out a soft, startled breath as he lifted her effortlessly onto the table, setting her down without breaking the kiss for even a heartbeat.

He angled her head back with a practiced touch, kissing her deeper—rougher—like he'd finally stopped pretending he didn't want this.

Aria's eyes scrunched, stunned by how intensely he was kissing her.

He swallowed the tiny gasp that escaped her, pressing in closer, mouth moving over hers, lips hungry, breath uneven.

When he finally pulled back—barely an inch—he was panting against her lips.

"Why," he murmured, voice low and wrecked, "did you kiss me back?"

Aria blinked up at him, smiling, cheeks warm. "Professor... I'm twenty-one. Not exactly a child. And besides—" her fingers brushed the collar of his robes, teasing,

"—you kissed me first. Would've been rude not to return the favor."

His breath faltered.

Aria's smile... faltered. "Don't look at me like that," she murmured, her voice steady. "You're going to Obliviate me anyway. It's obvious."

Snape stilled.

She huffed softly, almost amused at herself. "Honestly, I didn't know why I kept losing bits of memory all year... but after that kiss, I can take a wild guess."

His expression shifted—barely, subtly. He lifted a hand to her cheek, fingers surprisingly gentle for a man so thoroughly allergic to softness. 

His forehead touched hers.

"I shouldn't," he breathed, his eyes flicked to her mouth for only a fraction of a second—barely a lapse, barely a sin—before snapping back to hers eyes.

"But I suppose a human's greed knows no bounds." he said quietly, "Once one acquires a taste for something, abstaining becomes... inefficient."

Aria tilted her head, eyes cool despite her flushed cheeks. "Don't misunderstand, Professor. I'm not interested in love."

"I can tell," he said, eyes narrowing a fraction. "So tell me—were you not repulsed?"

Her lips quirked. "But I can tell you'll reprimand yourself for this later. I wouldn't want my... preferred professor assume I found it... distasteful."

That clearly struck something. Snape pulled back sharply, his features rearranging into the familiar cold steel of the man she was used to.

He drew his wand. "Miss Ariana, does nothing give you pause? Your... openness is rather concerning."

She slid off the table gracefully, hiding the "well, yeah, obviously, I'm from the 21st century" running through her head.

"I'm not stopping you," she said calmly. "Honestly, I don't need extra stress on top of Voldemort nightmares."

Snape stepped closer again—quickly this time—and before lifting his wand, he kissed her. Harder. Shorter. A final, self-destructive indulgence.

She inhaled sharply against his mouth.

When he pulled back, she let out a soft, knowing exhale. "You see, Professor... if you'd played your cards right, you wouldn't need to wipe my memory." Her eyes glinted. "I might've even chosen you."

"Potter?" 

She shook her head.

"Malfoy."

His jaw clenched. 

"Also...." Aria smirked. "Don't kiss me again... at least not until I break up with that brat. Which—honestly—might be soon."

She leaned in and pressed a teasing kiss to his cheek. 

He exhaled, jaw tight. "...You are remarkably cruel."

"You're crueler, sir," she replied, voice low. "Showing me this soft side only to erase it. Truly, your pride knows no bounds."

His wand touched her temple.

"Obliviate."

Aria's eyes glazed, then refocused. She blinked, confused. "Why... am I here?" she mumbled. She glanced down at the Veritaserum vial on the floor. "Oh. Right. I came to return it."

She straightened, hands raised innocently. "You're not going to get me in trouble, right? I swear I didn't steal any— not even a single drop." 

A pause. 

"...maybe one. Or two."

Snape's face fell back into its usual mask of disdain.

"If you had consumed even one drop, Miss Ariana, you'd currently be confessing your entire life story to my rug," he drawled. "Get out."

She chuckled amused. "Right. Yes. Leaving. Immediately."

She hurried out. Snape exhaled—very quietly—before returning to his desk.