Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom hearts, nor do I own Harry Potter. Kingdom hearts belongs to Square Enix, Harry Potter to Jk Rowling. I own nothing and no profit is being made.
A/N: Inspired by another hp/kingdom hearts fic out there. This is why Namine should have gone to slytherin...
Slytherin was afraid of the new girl, Harry mused, as he waited for his new girlfriend in the empty classroom.
Naminé frightened and intrigued all. So seemingly innocent, so completely guiltless and virtuous to the public eye, who could possibly mistake her for a conniving snake?
When compared to her other companions, one might think Axel; Axel, with the blood of many soiling his hands, just to achieve success in scandal, Axel, whose motto was that the ends justified the means, Axel, who cursed capriciously and ravaged his young boyfriend no matter where he was. He who commanded the flames and didn't care where they landed so long as it saved his hide and those of his two friends.
But he had ended up in Gryffindor.
So one must look at her other friend, Roxas; Roxas, whose eyes reflected a pain and an emptiness few could have felt, who would have gladly traded a soul for seeking needed information, who wielded the blades Oath keeper and Oblivion and would drawn them in battle without a second thought. One would look to Roxas whose disposition was as cold and shriveled as a snake's, and was only warmed by the touch of pure white hot intensity searing his skin.
Roxas had gone to Ravenclaw.
Naminé stepped into the classroom quietly and gave Harry a bright smile as she kissed him on the cheek, and then the lips. She sat across from him.
He smiled back at her but in wonder. What did his love have to do with Slytherin? She had never killed, he knew. She was a nobody, but so were her friends.
Naminé, sweet Naminé, had tried to restore her friend's memories, and their selves, she had painted beautiful pictures for them. Sweet Naminé with her haunting touches, her lips ghosting over his, her soft sunlight hair smelling of a fresh breeze.
His lovely Naminé whom he had met on the train and had a lasting impression on him ever since. Naminé who had helped him discover all the secrets of his past, Naminé who had entrusted him with all the secrets of nobodies and the organization.
And now, here in this room, he vowed to protect his sweet, endearing, soft spoken, gentle, brave Naminé from the dark lord, whom Dumbledore had informed them, was now looking for all information on the last remaining nobodies, and would stop at nothing, go through everyone, until they found them.
She accepted these vows with a sad smile, and a solemn nod, knowing this was Harry's way of showing his love.
Then she took out her notepad.
Harry stopped what he was saying and watched. He was fixated as she drew a large glass oval on the pristine sketch paper. He watched the procession curiously until he saw the small figure she drew within the pure unsoiled cage.
He stood and backed away, too shocked to draw his wand, to frightened, too awed, at the sight of his own beautiful destruction.
He ran to the door, but knew it would have been locked. Before he could have withdrawn his wand, he felt his constructed confinements rise around him, mirroring the illustration which she held up for him to see.
He called out to her with a lack of voice, not understanding what he said himself.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he began to feel all his memories of her, of him with her, of her friends Axel, and Roxas, yanked out of him, restructured, and put back in. Fake memories, fake images, fake pieces of a puzzle he'd never fit together again.
His eyes ghosted through Naminé's, and they reflected no sign of regret, so sign of sadness or loss. They were emotionless, and indifferent.
She was the Slytherin.
As she worked to the root of his memories of her, hidden deep within his heart where she had touched him, as his inner walls collapsed against her cruel and merciless form of magic, he saw the part of her that belonged to the conniving and the twisted.
Naminé had manipulation down to all arts. Her innocent appeals on all levels fooled even the most cynical, fooled even Dumbledore.
Her darkness within was different from Roxas and Axel's. It was different from normal Slytherins'. It wasn't blunt and upfront, but sharp small and poisonous, slipping through you without a trail.
She didn't deign to trust those outside her immediate world, and this included himself. No matter how close Harry got to her, he had never really reached the true Naminé until now.
Even as she tore him apart, ripping into him piece by piece, he relished in the fact that this was the most intimate, most intertwined, they had ever become, she was completely inside of him, completely aware of every part of him as she reconstructed what was not broken, and he tasted the bittersweet flavor of his grail.
"I love you…"
She met his eyes, and shut her book, and that was the last time he saw her.
Slytherin was afraid of the new girl, as was the rest of the school.
He sat by with Ron and Hermione, watching the new transfer students, so close to each other, laugh and sit at the same table, despite being from separate houses. They were isolated, by choice, into their own world, a world left to a mystery by all.
Harry didn't know why he feared the sole female of the trio so much.
She seemed so fragile and pale, yet so bright and hopeful, and just so completely out of place among the Slytherins.
And yet, the hair on his neck stood when he walked past her, the air seemed to suddenly chill, and he would get headaches afterwards, nothing at all to do with his scar.
He would feel clammy and faint when he met eyes with her, his skin would reverberate with every passing glance, and his lids would flutter closed to recall some lost memory that plagued and played with him.
A vague voice… the sound of scribbles upon paper…
Either way, Harry did his best to avoid the innocent girl who sent chills up his spine. Besides, he had other things to concentrate on; the coming war should soon be taking up most of his time anyways.
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