Disclaimer: I own nothing, this is what happens when I read way too many HP Au's. Anyway this is a writing exercise so I can get on with writing Bloody Love, for those of you who like Vampire Diaries and Sailor Moon, go check it out.
Chapter 2
When I shut the kitchen door behind me it didn't take much to follow the flesh colour string and look up to the landing where they stood huddled, frightened and confused looking, staring down at me with some kind of unrecognisable aura. For half a moment I was taken back to the summer before fifth year when that was us, standing on the decrepit landing that was number 12. I shook myself out of it, we were so naïve.
They were so full of emotions and turbulence that when I walked straight past them they didn't say anything. Merely followed me into the upstairs sitting room. They took seats on the couches and I found myself leaning against the fireplace waiting for the inevitable barrage of questions that were about to come my way.
"You sounded like you knew," Eric hissed finally, "How could you possibly know?"
"Because I saw it, and I paid attention," I said in a constrained voice.
"Once doesn't cut it," Ginny protested childishly and it pained me to see the woman I had known reduced to this level of stupidity.
"That doesn't matter," George said, "What matters is that we were listening."
"And you knew we were listening," his twin pitched in.
"And you didn't call us out even though you told us to figure it out for ourselves," he finished.
"He doesn't care about his followers, he doesn't care about who gets in his way. He's insane, powerful and dangerous," I said pointblank, "Get smart or get scarce." I poured myself a glass of firewhiskey even though I had never been overly fond of the stuff and took a drink.
"That's dads," Eric said protesting loudly.
"And you're not going to say a word about it," I cut him off, "Why, because you want me to keep talking and if I have to put this down I'm leaving." He stilled, as if assessing whether or not I was serious about it or not before nodding in defeat.
"You're grades are atrocious," Hermione said speaking up for the first time, something that had shocked me to tell the truth, "You can't do the spell in class and you're brutality unlucky in potions. Yet somehow you walk around as if you have the skill to fight Death Eaters."
"Did you ever think that maybe I just didn't want to deal with Eric's tantrum if I ever did better than him at anything?" I asked, Eric screwed his face up and prepared to scream up a storm. "You're proving my point already," I said honestly. His mouth closed with a snap.
"But why would you flunk your grades like that on someone else's expectations," Hermione said horrified. I took another deep drink.
"For the same reason that they do," I said indicating to the twins, "Because it's expected and because you can retake your O.W.L's and N.E.W.T's at the ministry whenever you like."
"Then if you know how to fight so well, and you're so smart then teach us," Ron said passionately, some thing's it seemed never changed. I inhaled sharply. There was a thought, but then I refused to teach thoughtless children so that could let themselves get slaughter for glory and fame.
"No," I said firmly.
"I'm sorry," Eric demanded, "We may not get along but we're family and you have knowledge that could help us beat Voldemort." If he's said saved lives I would have, but they still need to learn.
"Then give me a reason, not fame and not glory. One reason, just a little ones enough and I'll do it," I said, all you have to do is mean it."
"And if we didn't really?" Neville asked.
"I wouldn't do a damn thing," I said truthfully, "Because you'd still die anyway."
"Even me, I'm your brother and I know we don't get along but could you really do that," he said angrily. I wanted to punch him in the face and knock some sense into him, but I didn't. I merely swallowed the remaining half a glass of firewhiskey and enjoyed the burn.
"Even you, but you're right you are my brother so I'm going to give you some advice," I said refilling my glass, "A first year levitation spell can kill as easy as the killing curse if you use it properly." With that I left the stunned assembly and went to bed. I glanced down at the full glass in my hand and realised something with a jolt. Two glasses of whiskey were not going to be enough. That night I dreamed.
Ginny was hanging by her insides, swaying methodically. Blood making that horrible splatting noise as it hit the floor. Panic set in. Then it changed to somewhere else.
"You killed a little girl," Hermione screamed at the red head.
"She was going to suffer in agony for the rest of her life, I did what had to be done and I had mercy on her," she hissed back, "And you know that." The dead six year old muggleborn lay on the floor twisted on her side, she must have suffer so bad.
"Gin, Mione," I said standing in between the two furious women and using my personal nicknames for them, "We need to leave." Hermione flounced off and Gin stood by my side. "She just hate's the circumstances," I said softly as we followed.
"I know," she replied. It flickered back to her body again. Slow and far away something wasn't quite right, but I couldn't unfreeze myself long enough to take my eyes off her.
"You shouldn't," I started, sitting in the middle of out makeshift base in the forbidden forest, Gin cut me off.
"Drink, smoke and fuck my way through the little time left in this hell we call life?" she asked rhetorically. I tugged the bottle out of her hands and slugged back a mouthful.
"I was going to say hog the vodka," I laughed, it sounded brittle though and she joined in. Then I was back at the house where we found her body. Splat, before noise burst through my ears. A litany of dark curses, screaming, the spray of blood and chunks of flesh, warmth coating my face as flashes of light and blurred images fought the darkness. Then it was gone.
I opened my eyes again and Ginny was swinging from the roof. There was no noise and my stomach swirled violently. I could feel myself gasp but I couldn't hear it. Her dulled brown eyes mad ice settle in my veins.
"Gin," I whispered raggedly, almost jumping when I could hear it. Then slowly I turn to Luna who was standing next to me. Her eyes were wide and her face was deadly pale, mouth hanging slightly open. Then the sound kicked in and all I could hear was her devastated high pitched scream.
I lurched upwards in bed, icy cold and terror gelling in my blood. I shook and my breath came out in ragged pants, as I leant over until my forehead touched the silk comforter. I had to get out of here, I thought shakily. I threw some clothes and make-up (to cover the shadows under my eyes and my scar) on and slipped downstairs and out the door.
I was having nightmares about another reality while strangers walked around wearing my friend's faces. I found myself in a tattoo parlour that was somehow still open at four in the morning. The man behind the desk, werewolf my numbed brain supplied me, asked what I wanted.
"I need to get inked," I said in an odd voice. My hand sketched what I wanted roughly on a piece of paper and he copied it on to my back. Soon there was nothing but a burning sensation and the buzz have the machine in the background. A glass of double black vodka – thank god, in my hand.
"All done love," he said in rough voice, wolfish smile directed at me. I needed something, something to remind me that nothing was impossible.
"Thank you," I murmured, gazing at the artistry on my back. The night sky, with clouds and stars. Three children, a pixie and the original lost boy sitting on the minute hand of Big Ben and in the distance two dermal piercings that shone like diamonds or stars, my mind supplied.
"I quite like the design idea," he said as I fished for the card my mother gave me, "Second,"
"Star to the right and straight on till morning," I said along with him.
I have no idea where Peter Pan came from but I like it. Review me and tell me what you think.
