A Catatonic Conjecture.
More like a poem. Almost no dialogues.Read slowly. The image it casts is delightful.
The dark of the night stretched across the serene sky. The murky forest was completely obscured by the absence of the Moon. The gloominess of night did nothing for frown on his face.
Yet he chuckled at the irony of the situation. It was curious that the only night he wished to for a bit of light in the darkness, he only found more darkness.
Dreary the night may be, it was beautiful. Work of art.
He had always found happiness in solace. The gentle wind which blew up here had always reminded him of his mother – though he never knew her. Not today. Today the wind was fierce and had a certain chilliness to it that it made his skin prickle uncomfortably. The sound in his ears was much more prominent, as if scolding him for his being.
He looked down at the cigarette he held – burning slowly and emitting a light reddish glow – as smoke rose from it's tip, forming a pattern so random it made him question destiny itself. It was a rare occasion. He had never given it a second thought. His life was so mysteriously entwined with death, it was almost euphoric.
He flicked the ash off the cigarette as he brought it back to his lips, and took a small, smooth drag, letting the smoke filling up his lungs. He hated the smoke burning inside him, it was the release from the body that sent tingles of pleasure down his spine. So, he let it – enjoying the silent chime of the night.
It was always loud and boisterous in the Gryffindor Tower, while Harry had always enjoyed the silence of Astronomy Tower. It was hardly ten, and yet the silence was as blissful as ever. If he were to die tomorrow, he might as well enjoy life today.
Dragons, of all things. Fate had always been cruel to him. His parents murdered. Ten long years with Dursleys. And, three more within the walls of safest place on Earth. He scoffed. Death seemed a more viable option. He took another slow drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke burn away his troubles.
Fourteen wasn't an age to smoke, but Harry could care less. He felt older than the Castle herself. He was tired. The bittersweet smell of smoke made him swoon for death, and reminded him of his life at the same time.
The image from Mirror of Erised still haunted him. The promise of Life after Death was enticing. If it weren't for Ron and Hermione, he might as well be dead. And now, now he had lost them too. Perhaps, it was his gullibility that blinded him from seeing that he never had a friend. Just an elaborate ruse. Yes, life was cruel. But, he doubted he would see his own corpse in the Mirror.
Harry often wondered how his life would have been if he had never met Ron. Would he be friends with Malfoy? The likelihood of that happening was unlikely.
Or perhaps in Slytherin. You'll make your real friends.
The old lines came to the forefront of his mind like a tragic tale. Slytherin would have a way out his loneliness, but the prejudice was just far too much. He could have easily be imprisoned in his second year if he were one of them. He should have joined Slytherin just because of colour of their robes. Gryffindors Common Room had such bright colours, it made his eyes burn. Though, he did prefer the soft blue of Ravenclaw over all others – the Hat hadn't even considered him for that House. The Hufflepuffs were loyal – but only to themselves. And, bright yellow was too hard on eyes. Blue certainly would have suited him.
He had never valued knowledge. It was knowledge that would have made his life easier. He relied heavily upon Hermione. It was a mistake. Now he relented.
No. The Mirror wouldn't show him in a different house. Maybe a friend. He knew it wouldn't show him his parents anymore. He knew Death was inevitable – he had accepted that. Dumbledore had said that the Mirror would give us neither knowledge nor truth. He disagreed. It would have given him a moment of clarity.
What he did agree though, was that better men have been driven mad by the Mirror. The Mirror had entrapped him for long nights.
Dumbledore, for all his faults, was a wise old wizard. That bastard. He did hate him to some extent. The twinkly eyes, the façade of a grandfather, and posse of infallibility. Despite Dumbledore had claimed otherwise, his actions in public conveyed Omnipresence. It was rather amusing when one knew about his blunders.
Harry winced as the ash fell on his shoes. Those were new – or rather what was his perception of new. A year did not wear down a shoe. Several did.
He glared at the shoe then ignored it in favor of the burning cigarette. For some reason, today it reminded him of the pain he had felt in the Chamber of Secrets. It was pain beyond measure. Pain he had never felt before. How did Dumbledore not notice an artifact Dark enough to execute possession was beyond him.
He took a shuddering drag of the cigarette – trying to put his mind off the pain. It would troublesome if a cigarette reminded him of the Chambers.
Ding!
Someone had tipped his Proximity ward. He discarded his cigarette carelessly and pulled out his Map.
'I solemnly swear, I'm up to no good'
Even today, Harry watched in wonderment as at once ink likes spread outwards randomly from the point where he had touched his wand's tip and then crisscrossed spreading like wildfire before they lost their randomness and descending to a halt. He flicked his wand in an intricate pattern which had the torch burning dully.
Harry flipped the map open, his eyes sharp like a hawk as they searched for the intruder. He had always found the process frustrating. It would be easier if he could just use a spell instead. He should ask Remus. Maybe he could do something. Or better yet, impart some knowledge. Right now, Harry was wise enough to fumble around the Map.
When he found the Astronomy Tower, the sense of victory that he felt was short-lived as the name registered in his mind. A groan left his mouth, as he watched her make her way up the stairs. Her walk steady and graceful, if he had to guess. The way the Tower was inked in the Map was impressive. It showed every floor and the stairs. It even showed the Top, which was where he stood.
Daphne Greengrass. His private stalker. Possibly. Not that she knew that he knew. Not that he had ever confronted her. Not that he could tell her apart in a group of a dozen people. It might be a coincidence she kept tripping his Proximity Wards for the better part of the year. It had begun soon after his name came out of the Cup. Considering it was only when he started putting up wards and never met her before that, it was a bit of mystery how he wasn't stalked before. Or perhaps, he never noticed her presence. That would be creepy. Colin was annoying as it was.
But, he had long lost the part of mind which harboured a coincidence. After all, the future does affect the past. Hermione called them Prophecies. But, this felt like something more. Something more than just a premonition. Something that rose deep in his soul. Something so real, that it almost felt like a dream.
Not now – he reminded himself. Harry took a deep breath before he wiped off the Map and calmly placed it in his pocket. He took out another cigarette and lit it with his wand. If it were any other day, he would have disappeared. If it were any other day, he would have donned his Invisibility Cloak, enlarge his Firebolt and jump out. Not today. Tomorrow was nearly there, and he did want to enjoy today.
Harry chuckled, and pulled out another cigarette and carelessly lit it with his wand. The reverberations of her heels echoing strangely in the hollow stairway, made his nerves tingle pleasantly like the rush of his adventures, that he had come to love.
Silence. The loud silence echoed in the Tower. He still didn't turn back.
He let her extend the silence, as he busied himself in devouring the smoke that rose beautifully in the night. The night was still young.
"Who would have thought that the Golden Gryffindor Boy smokes?" Her tone was playful, and melodic in a way that it took him a moment to realize that she spoke. He turned back slightly, finally allowing himself to rest on the balcony, as he gazed at her form, her face glowing dimly in the light of the tower.
He raised an eyebrow. He doubted she could make much of his face, but it was hardly a deliberate action. His face was still hidden.
Her face brought back a memory he had long forgotten.
"Watch where you're going Potter. And stay away from that thrice damned–"
He did not let her finish as he gave a hasty apology and ran away. He just knew he had ran into a Slytherin in mid of night, and with Snape trying to kill him, it seemed a bad idea.
On hindsight, she must have been entrapped by the wretched mirror. Just like him, except she was smarter about it. It was the only night he had not worn his cloak as it were still early then.
It wasn't surprising that moments ago he was thinking about the Mirror. The future does effect the past. He smiled. He pulled out his case, offered it to her. He looked at her and gave a small nod in her direction.
She pulled out a single cigarette, holding it between her fingers, and lit it wandlessly. He could feel his eyes widening when the fact actually registered in his brain. Hell, she was a powerhouse. This could really go sideways if she was planning his murder, his eyes held onto her challenging smirk. It was very enticing smirk, as she moved to stand next to him, before the smirk was no longer visible as she put the cigarette in her mouth.
Shaking his head, he put back his case. And, took a deep drag.
While he held the cigarette in a more classic way, her was more sophisticated and feminine. It was no surprise when she didn't cough up the smoke even after a long drag. Which spoke a lot considering the hatred of wizards toward anything Muggle. Wizards preferred everlasting Calibre over cigarettes. They were less potent, and Harry wished he had never smoked a Calibre.
He enjoyed the silence as he looked upon her in the darkness. He could hardly make out any features on her face, or anything except the outline of her body. Despite his urge for a companion the silence was rather intoxicating. More so than the cigarette he held.
"Are you checking me out, Potter?" She hadn't even cared to look up at him, consuming her cigarette must faster than he ever did while staring ahead at the dully lit Astronomy Tower, yet her tone was playful.
She intrigued him, that was true. Even after his stay at Dusrsley's his curiosity often led him to near death situations. But, that was what life was. "What do you want, Greengrass?"
She lowered the hood of her robe, and let her hair fall freely as she turned to look at him. He knew she had blonde hair, but he couldn't tell the colour now. She didn't reply – engaging herself with looking at him while she smoked. He couldn't see her face clearly. He couldn't tell what she thought. He couldn't observe her.
Annoyed at the lack of details, he waved his free arm, and the fire that burnt lightly in the tower, now roared and her face came into view. She hadn't even bat an eyelid at his sudden display of wandless magic, instead opting to smirk openly at him.
He chuckled. He should have been annoyed with himself but he was surprisingly amused. He had never let anyone realize how good he actually was at Magic. Unwanted attention. Something he had learnt to do at Dursleys.
"The first task is Dragons," words left his lips before he knew. Some part of his mind rationalized this was what companions were for, while other was perplexed at his desire to speak.
She didn't look up, instead staring ahead in the now glowing room. "Are you scared?" The concern in her soft voice took him by surprise.
He looked at her as he brought the cigarette to his lips. Was he scared? After killing a Basilisk, Dragons seemed a child's play. The better question had he ever felt scared. Even when he was dying from the venom, he had only felt pain. His lack of fear suddenly had always been a part of himself.
She looked at him, as she waited for his reply.
He smiled, and shook his head. It is wise to be afraid of fear itself, Lupin had said to him.
"You certainly seem unconcerned," she commented lightly as she stared at him. "Do this often?"
"For the perspective is newfound. As never there was an epiphany; for death oft was nearer."
She raised an eyebrow at his answer.
Somehow, the sentence ended up being much more complex than he had intended it to be. It was poetic and it flowed. He had loved poems when he was younger. He gave her a sheepish look.
She smirked, "What we see in the retrospect, has ever more to life; as for the moment, it is only momentary."
A smirk never cam more easily to him. He chuckled. "True. Not the context I took in. A night awaits before my Death; the walks weren't that long before."
Daphne clicked her tongue.
Harry grimaced. It had sounded weird, and made little sense. Harry knew that he wasn't very good at poetry and this was prose.
"You are alright. But you're way out of your lane," she commented.
"Much better than our peers," he scoffed. He doubted anyone even read poetry in his year.
"Either of ours," she agreed, as she put off the cigarette butt in a slow fashion. She did consume it very fast.
He took in a deeper drag of his now almost finished cigarette, before the realization of her words sink in. It made sense why he didn't remember her. "You're not a fourth year student."
Daphne looked amused, as she took his cigarette from his hand, took a last smoke before putting it off.
He did feel sad to loose his cigarette. He had reached his limit for the week, but it mattered less now. She hadn't answered yet.
"I am in fifth year," she replied with an amused smile.
He blinked. "But, you are –" He didn't finish his statement. He knew very well, how that would have ended. She was a bit shorter than him, and he himself was short, only five feet six inches. He closed his mouth, and instead gazed at her.
"A Night awaits before your Death. The walks weren't so long before," She reiterated his statement, ignoring his half complete sentence. Not even a hint of a glare was upon her visage.
"Yes," he agreed looking at her blonde hair waving around in the wind. A silence descended above them. She was still looking ahead, her eyes not meeting his anymore than they did before.
The temperature was dropping. A chill was settling in his stomach. Dragons. He shivered.
The silence was still there, only the sound of wind and fire roaring accompanied them.
She finally turned towards him, her eyes searching his green ones.
His breath left him. He wasn't letting it go, this time. He had a conjecture. No matter how stupid, he wasn't going to let this go. His gut had never led him wrong, and the future did affect the past.
The azure-ian blue of her eyes had sparked something in his heart. Blue. The perfect blue. A simple colour stilled time. His magic hummed in delight, and he let go, as he swiftly covered the small distance between them and his lips met her in a sync.
His hands tightened around her waist, pulling her closer. He kissed her deeply, as she too let go of her inhibitions and kissed him back.
She broke the kiss for a moment - gazing at him.
"Hell hath no fury; Death shall not – greet you any soon," Before she kissed him again, letting her hands roam in his hair.
His Magic agreed with her. She bit his lip hard, and the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth, making him moan in her mouth.
The song of Phoenix reverberated from his wand, and it was joined by other. He didn't care the castle was being bathed in the song. Instead he cupped her face and tilted it back, allowing his tongue to meet hers.
There were no coincidences. The future affects the past.
And, it seemed a lot brighter now as the reality of his actions sunk in. He no longer wished to greet Death. He felt free.
The wind hadn't slowed it down, but the prickling wind was gentle now. He felt blessed.
They finally broke apart, and he rested his forehead on hers.
For all the coincidences that had not happened, he still had one question, "Why were you stalking me?"
Her chuckle echoed loud in the darkness, as mirth filled her eyes. She shook her. She kissed him teasingly. "Mm. Someday, I will let you know."
A/N:
Made some changes.
I know it sounded a bit silly, but there. After writing 'Her Trusted', my other fic, I wanted to write something sillier. Mad-in-love kind. Fluff.
I will agree the chapter's quality deteriorated at the end. I will rework on it.
There will be another chapter, only one more. It would be retelling of the events from Daphne's perspective. Most authors call it POV, but it sounds bad.
Reviews are appreciated; Critics are welcomed; Flames are ignored.
P.S. Every other fic is still on hiatus.