Part 9 - Deadly Weapon
The year he broke out of Azkaban, my dad sent me a jacket for Christmas. It was beautiful, soft, supple black leather with thick silver zippers and snaps all over. Bill said it was a motorcycle jacket, and it was warm and wonderful, with a pale satin lining that matched my eyes exactly and was stuffed with cushy down. I could sit outside as snow fell, as winds howled and blew ice against my flushed cheeks and not get cold.
Snuggling into the exquisite warmth, I slowly turned over the note I'd found in the pocket. The small scrap of parchment only had two blotchy, crooked words on it:
Never forget.
It was the second note of its kind I'd gotten. The first had been left in my hand when I fell asleep near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. I had no idea what it meant or where it had come from, so I ignored it.
Things were quite obvious now. The notes were from my dad, and I suddenly could remember quite vividly what they were referring to...
My dad had just discovered James and Lily were dead, and he was devastated. After hours of pacing our kitchen, he decided that he had to leave, he had to track down Peter if he wanted any hope of retaining his freedom, of avenging his best friends.
I wandered in and saw him crying, and he ended up comforting me before tucking me back into bed. Even as a two-year-old, I knew something was wrong.
I didn't want him to go, and tried to grab him and make him stay, but I was too tired, melting into my tiny bed as I gazed up at the pinpricks of light reflecting off his blue-gray eyes in the otherwise dark room. He kissed me on the forehead, mumbling hotly against my skin, "I love you, my brave girl. Always. Never forget."
I closed my eyes, murmuring softly, "Never. Love you, Daddy."
That was the last time I saw him.
I thought he'd forgotten me but he hadn't. He knew, somehow, that I needed to hear from him, to be reassured that my daddy still loved me, that he would never forget, and that I shouldn't either. And he found a way. I put the note back in my left pocket, leaving my hands in the warmth there as I stared out into the pure white landscape.
"Stella," Fred's voice interrupted my reverie, and I turned to find him and George hugging themselves just a few steps away. I was only a few feet from the back door of the Burrow, leaning against the house and seated on a bench that was nearly engulfed in a snow drift. However, the twins were shivering and struggling to stomp their way over to sit with me.
"You ok?" George asked cautiously, sweeping a seat for himself on my left. Fred did the same on my right, waiting eagerly for a response. "I'm fine," I stated, still off in my own thoughts.
I was pulled out of them when Fred tugged my right hand out of the soft, warm depths of the front pocket of my jacket. He gingerly inspected the charmed mood ring he'd given me just a few hours earlier, seeing that the inside of the delicate silver star was swirled with pink, gray, and brown. It wasn't a particularly pleasant combination of colors, but it wasn't entirely horrible either; it had its own sad sort of appeal.
"Loved, but lonely and confused," He announced clinically before looking up into my face, "I'd say that's a pretty accurate description... you really think the jacket is from him?"
"Couldn't be from anyone else," I reasoned, "And it didn't have a tag, and there was the note in the pocket. It was just like the other one, but now I remember what they mean..."
"You got another note from him?" George asked, frowning slightly, "When? Why didn't you say anything about it?"
I shrugged, "It was right after the quidditch game. After I ran that night. I slept just inside the forest-" Fred cut me off momentarily with a sharp, wincing intake of breath, but I continued, "I woke up with the same note stuck in my hand. I didn't know what it meant, or where it had come from, and to be honest I was a little creeped out. But this second one reminded..."
I inhaled deeply, the scent of cold and leather spiraling my senses through a rush of memories, of being tucked inside the soft warmth of my daddy's leather jacket as he took me soaring through the stars on his motorcycle... I missed him so much.
"You can't tell anyone," I ordered, giving each twin a fierce glare, "I'm serious. Not a word. They'll take it away from me and just go after him that much harder."
After sharing brief glances, the twins agreed, "We won't tell."
"Good," I hummed contentedly, snuggling into Fred's shoulder as we both watched the colors in my ring change to pink and purple--loved and happy. "Something else you boys wanted?" I questioned with a yawn.
"Actually," George answered, flashing a wicked smirk, "Yes." He pointed back to Fred, and when I turned I found that he was holding a sprig of mistletoe over our heads, grinning brightly. He was adorable, blue eyes shining, freckled nose and cheeks pink from cold, dimples out in full force. Who was I to deny my best friend a Christmas kiss?
Reaching up to cup his slightly stubbly jaw in my hand, I laughed, "Well, I suppose since it is tradition, after all." I leaned in and kissed Fred softly, firmly, my lips lingering against his slightly longer than was strictly necessary as both our eyes fell shut. My stomach gave a startling little flutter at the feel of the heat coming off him. Neither of us was moving apart.
But then George loudly cleared his throat and we both instantly pulled back, our already pink cheeks flushing darker. I turned away from the awkwardness to find that George too was holding up a sprig of mistletoe. I tried not to be a little disappointed that Fred's kiss hadn't meant anything, that he was just playing around like his brother. And why did I even want it to have meant something more?
Snickering, I leaned over and gave George the same treatment, pecking him lightly and not lingering for as long. It was partly because kissing him felt a lot... weirder than kissing Fred, but mostly because the sneaky little bastard tried to slip me his tongue.
Pulling back abruptly, I shot him a warning glare even as I tried not to laugh, smacking him sharply on the chest. He just sent me a cheeky smirk, blowing a kiss before waggling his thick ginger eyebrows and winking flirtatiously.
The glare did not last long. I very soon found myself in a fit of giggles as the twins hugged me close on either side. I didn't want to ever have to go back to Hogwarts.
xxXxx
My dread at returning to the castle seemed to make the remaining week of break fly by at warp speed. It was just a heartbeat of time before we were on the train station platform saying our goodbyes. Ginny hardly wanted to let go of Bill and Charlie, and Mrs. Weasley hardly wanted to let go of any of us. Not that I was complaining. If I could, I would've stayed. Hogwarts had become my personal hell.
"You behave yourselves," She instructed tearfully as she trapped Fred and George in hugs tight enough to threaten their air supplies, "And it wouldn't kill you to write home more often! Oh, my babies, I'll miss you so much!"
"Mum," Bill laughed, gently prying the squat woman away from his two brothers, "Come on, Mum, they're going to miss the train." Allowing his mother to hug him instead of the twins, Bill flashed us a charming smile as he said, "Better run now. Love you all, and, Stella?"
Already jogging towards the platform, I looked over my shoulder and inquired sadly, "Ya?"
He winked and instructed, "Keep the twins out of trouble." I laughed wickedly, winking right back as I countered, "Not gonna happen. I'm usually leading the charge." As Fred and George pulled me onto the train, I heard Charlie chuckle and remark, "Somehow, that doesn't surprise me."
And then I was back. After two weeks of safe haven, or freedom from fear and loneliness, I was right back in the midst of the place I didn't want to be. All that morning leading up to stepping on the train, I only felt dread. Once I was finally aboard, I felt like jumping off.
I was seriously considering doing exactly that. My blood started to beat faster, my breaths becoming shallow. I was three seconds from freaking out, from running right back out the door.
"Let's find ourselves a compartment," Fred soothed, seeming to have caught on to my impending episode. He slung an arm around my shoulders, tucking me safely into his side and smiling a comforting smile. I had no choice but to smile back, feeling my whole body relax into Fred's touch. I just knew I was safe with him.
xxXxx
The train ride was uneventful, as was the feast, and most of the first week back. People whispered and stared when they saw me, but that can hardly be counted as anything notable; my entire Hogwarts career to date had gone much the same way.
On Thursday night, at a little before eight, I was sneaking up from dinner to meet Oliver in the Astronomy tower. I hadn't talked to him at all since getting back; in fact, we'd had no contact aside from the note he discreetly slipped me when we passed in the hall that afternoon. He only wrote a time, a place, and We need to talk. I just knew he was going to add more drama to my life with whatever he was throwing a fit over this time. Maybe we did need to talk. Maybe it was time for me to end things...
The twins had already made me twenty minutes late by holding me down from either side until I cleaned my plate; they were determined not to let the progress they had made in getting me up to a healthy weight go to waste. I tried very hard not to be annoyed.
I kept my pace brisk and I was deep in thought as I walked, so much so that I didn't even notice I'd tripped until I was already sprawled on the cold stone floor and biting back tears. Wincing and moving slow as my bloody right knee screamed in protest, I managed to push myself onto all fours and then, with a great deal of effort, to get back onto my feet again.
I turned around and was startled to find myself face to face with Harry. He was breathing hard, red in the face and obviously angry. It only took me about two seconds to realize that he was the reason I tripped; he had tripped me.
"Hello," I greeted softly, nervous and actually a little scared. So far all the pain he'd inflicted on me had been purely emotional and psychological. If he'd graduated to physical with such little remorse than I could no longer count on being safe in his presence. Plus, it was just such a shock to my system that he actually hurt me.
"You knew," He snarled, menacing and feral as his green eyes spit flames. He took a step forward and I took two back, panicking and finding my chest becoming tight as I held in the urge to sob. Harry wasn't supposed to look at me like that...
"You knew the whole fucking time!" The boy accused, his voice growing louder as he took another step closer to me, "You knew your dad was my godfather and that he was the one who betrayed my parents, and you spent two years not telling me, two years going out of your way to be my friend and still not telling me! What possible reason could you have to do that? Did you think it was funny? Are you sick like he is? Were you planning to follow in Daddy's footsteps? Setting the stage for your own betrayal of my family?"
He paused, drawing hard breaths in through clenched teeth and fisting his shaking hands at his sides. Wide-eyed, I kept backing away, shaking and truly terrified as Harry continued to advance on me. He would've hit me. I know he would've. I love my little god-brother, but he has a horrible temper.
Luckily, a classroom door opened between us and Remus stepped out into the hallway. He was tired, heavy circles around his amber eyes as he glanced at both Harry and me. "What's going on here?" He questioned flatly, his gaze falling to my bloody knee, "Are you alright, Stella? How did you get hurt?"
Swallowing hard, I stared across at Harry, my vision fuzzy as my voice broke with tears, "Nothing, Professor. I just tripped. Harry was helping me up." I turned away, hugging my leather jacket tightly around my body as I sobbed, "Clumsy, clumsy me." I forced myself to walk away slowly, partly because my knee killed and partly because I knew Remus would come after me if I ran. I took slow, measured steps all the way down the hallway, listening as Remus greeted Harry and ushered him into the classroom with an offer of hot chocolate.
I rounded the next corner and slumped to the floor, pressing my head against the cool stone wall and breaking down into body-racking sobs.
xxXxx
Oliver was already gone by the time I got up to the Astronomy tower. I didn't blame him though; I was over forty minutes late and he had very little patience.
My knee ached the next day and I had to borrow a pair of leggings from Ginny to keep the twins from noticing that it was bruised and bloody. They didn't catch on, thank Merlin, but it hurt so much just to stop myself from limping that I was nauseas with pain halfway through the morning. Since I had History of Magic just before lunch, I just snuck out of the room when Binns wasn't looking and I went up to my dorm to knock back a few shots of the vodka Oliver had sent me for Christmas. It helped to take the edge off.
At lunch, Fred caught a glimpse of my mood ring as I was pretending to force down some plain pasta. The inside of the delicate silver star was swirled with light green, dark green, and gray, which represent sick/in pain, stressed, and lonely. He bugged me about it, feeling my forehead and kindly asking if I was ill, if I needed him to walk me down to the Hospital Wing. I laughed it off and claimed to have cramps. Both boys were so unwilling to talk about anything to do with my girlie parts that they quickly dropped the subject. Hehe, works like a charm.
I skipped DADA after lunch and went to have a smoke at the far side of the vegetable patch, hidden behind the corn stalks where I couldn't be seen. I thought I'd be alone.
Only about ten minutes into my blissful solitude, I heard approaching footsteps and turned around just in time to watch Oliver Wood step into view. He did not look happy, square jaw set in a firm scowl. I sighed, bitterly thinking, "And here comes the drama."
"You didn't show up," He accused, his voice low and dangerous as he stopped just an arm's length away from me. I took another long drag on my cigarette, apologizing half-heartedly, "Sorry, I was running late. By the time I got there you were already gone."
"You blew me off," He stated once more, definitely beyond pissed and not listening to what I was saying. I sighed heavily, rolling my eyes as I answered, "Yes, we've established that, and I already apologized. Was there something else?"
He glared, brown eyes narrowing as the tall young man snapped, "We need to talk." Chuckling, puffing out thick clouds of smoke and frost, I granted, "Then by all means, proceed."
After a moment of pause, he snapped, "What were you thinking me sending condoms? What the fuck kind of Christmas present is condoms?" I smirked, blowing smoke in his face as I teased, "A fucking good one. You must not be thinking far enough into it."
He growled, his voice steadily rising in volume as he raged, "You know what I mean! My parents saw them! I had to have a fucking sex talk with my da, and my mum is insisting she get to meet my girlfriend! They're taking us out to dinner Saturday."
Clearly, he was crazier than I was. "Oliver, you sent me vodka," I shouted in reply, taking one last drag of my cigarette before flicking it away, "At least my gift couldn't get you shipped off to a rehab center, because that's what would've happened to me if anyone had seen it! And your mum is going to have a hard time meeting a girlfriend you don't have. We aren't going out. We fuck. That's it."
"You're coming to this damn dinner if I have drag you there," He threatened, his features clouding menacingly as he got right into my face, "You got me into this!"
Laughing right back, I argued, "No, you got yourself into this! You could've just fucking lied to your parents, like a normal human being. Oh, no, wait. You did lie, you just didn't tell the right one. The story should've been 'one of my daft mates was playing a prank and there is no girlfriend.' Wouldn't that have saved us both a bit of trouble?"
"Well, I didn't think of that," He growled, his cheeks getting a faint hint of color as his fists shook at his sides. I knew it drove him up a wall when I made him feel stupid, and that's probably not what the situation needed but it's not like it could be helped. "And it's too late now," He continued, suddenly far too close for comfort, "Now they want to meet you, and you're not embarrassing me anymore in front of them! You're going to go to this dinner with me and you're going to act halfway sane until it's through, or else!!
"Grow a backbone, Wood," I spat, trying to move past him and leave because I really didn't feel like being manipulated, threatened, or screamed at, "Just admit to Mummy and Daddy what a bad little boy you've been and leave me the fuck out of it."
He grabbed my arm, hard, his grip so biting that it wrenched a small whimper out of my throat before I could stop. Fixing me with a cold stare, the gruff, muscular brunette hissed, "What do you know about dealing with parents? You don't even fucking have any!"
And that was the last straw. It didn't matter how much it hurt or how bruised I was going to be, I wrenched my arm out of Oliver's grasp and shoved him away from me, screaming, "GO TO HELL, YOU BASTARD!!"
I suddenly hated him so much. I thought he was my sanctuary, my oasis of good amidst the shriveling and burning desert of bad I was forced to endure every damn day. But it turned out he was just like everyone else, just as judgmental and cruel, and it felt like the biggest fucking betrayal yet. I didn't even want to look at him anymore. I was in a rage and trying desperately not to break down crying as I turned and stomping away towards the castle.
Limping frantically up the steep hill, I could hear his heavy footsteps crunching through the stale snow just a few moments later as he shouted, "Stella! Wait!" I looked over my shoulder and saw the anger on his face and I was afraid. Desperate to get away, I broke out into a run.
Oliver was controlling and possessive and impulsive and not very bright, but he was also fit and fast and strong. He easily caught up to me near a small gardening shed at the back of Greenhouse Three, slamming my body roughly against the dense wood. I struggled, punching and scratching, but he quickly had my wrists trapped over my head with just one large hand.
A shower of snow fell down on us, knocked off the roof as the small building shook with the force of my efforts to get free and his efforts to prevent them. I couldn't see Oliver clearly until the last of it drifted away, leaving us with barely an inch between our faces, no space between his powerful body and mine as he kept me pinned forcefully against the shed. I was helpless and utterly terrified, and he looked so fucking mad.
"Fuck!" The keeper snarled, squeezing my wrists even harder through the soft leather of my jacket, "I didn't mean it that way! Why do you always have to make everything so goddamn difficult?"
"Let go!" I demanded, my voice cracking as I held back tears of frustration and anger and pain and fear, "You're hurting me! Let go!"
The angry expression on his face twisted into a vicious, hateful smirk, his breath hot on my neck as he leaned in close and taunted, "I know you don't really mean that, love. Always liked a bit of rough, haven't you?" And then one of his cold hands was on my thigh, grabbing, squeezing too hard again, forcing me to open my legs as Oliver forced his body between them so they'd stay that way. His mouth was on my neck, biting and sucking and leaving marks, claiming even as my chest started to heave with choked sobs, even as I cried, "No! Stop! Stop!"
He was big, and strong, and used to getting his way. He didn't have to take no for an answer. He wasn't taking no for an answer, not showing any signs of releasing me, violently pounding his hips against mine hard enough to leave deep bruises, rubbing his clothed erection against my crotch like some disgusting animal in heat. I was going to be sick. I was going to throw up, and I could already feel my brain shutting down, retreating from the moment. I was protecting myself mentally even though I couldn't do a thing physically aside from weakly whimpering and sobbing, "No. No. No."
He broke the strap of my book bag, sending it and its contents crashing into the snow. I remember hearing him step on and shatter a glass inkwell as his big hand went under my skirt, fighting to keep me still enough to succeed in tearing off my panties. It hit me like a ton of bricks: he was going to rape me and it was my own damn fault. I used and abused him, and now he was returning the favor. He stuck his tongue down my throat and I was absolutely sure I was going to throw up.
"HEY!" A loud voice shouted, breaking Oliver out of his anger and mindless dry-humping. I couldn't move. I was too scared, too numb, and I thought that any movement would focus all Oliver's rage back on me.
The body pinning mine down shifted slightly so the sneering face I couldn't take my eyes off of could get a look at the intruder. "I think you should get away from her," The new voice commanded, sounding stern and determined.
"Mind your own bloody business!" Oliver growled in reply, burying his face in my neck again, sharply biting my skin and making me sob harder. "See?" He laughed cruelly, snapping his hips violently against the horrible bruises already developing on mine, "Bitch likes it."
I could hardly breathe. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't force enough air through my lungs and the person was going to leave me there with Oliver. He was going to walk away because no one at that school cared at all about what happened to me; hell, most of them would probably be glad to see what was happening to me. I hated the stranger for it, but I couldn't really blame him. I probably wasn't worth saving anyways...
But then Oliver's weight was yanked off me. Shocked and not prepared to support my own body, I crumbled into the snow, my right knee searing in protest when I landed on it. I still couldn't breathe, gasping and choking and crying and unable to pull myself up despite the fact that I knew I should run. After a few moments, sounds of a fight penetrated my fog of terror and pain, and I looked up to see Oliver a few feet, rolling through the snow with Cedric Diggory, a handsome fifth year Hufflepuff, captain and seeker of his house team. They were wrestling fiercely, Oliver swearing and Cedric yelling at him to get off as they punched at each other. It was almost like watching the twins wrestle, except that there was nothing playful about the melee; they were really trying to hurt each other. I was stunned and frozen.
But then I watched in detached horror as Oliver landed a vicious blow to the slightly smaller boy's temple. Cedric's head snapped sharply to the side before the rest of his body went limp and the second his gray eyes rolled back I was on my feet with my wand pointed at Oliver's big burly form.
"Impedimenta!" I shrieked, surprising myself with the rage in my shaking voice. The spell his Oliver between the shoulder blades and he slowly ground to a halt, his fist hanging back in midair and poised to strike the unconscious boy beneath him yet again. I was so angry I couldn't see straight. I kicked him off of Cedric with a shot to the ribs that was a lot harder than necessary and deeply satisfying for that very reason. I screamed every nasty and unpleasant hex, jinx, curse, and swear I could think of until Oliver was bloody and bruised and swollen and multicolored and scorched and hairy and covered in boils and sported several of his favorite appendages hanging limply from the wrong parts of his body, until I could no longer speak because my voice was so hoarse and I was sobbing too hard to keep going.
Even so, I probably would've kept trying to hurt him if I hadn't felt a hand gently close over my trembling left wrist, very slowly coaxing me into lowering my wand even though my tear-filled eyes and expression of pure rage refused to leave Oliver's whimpering, squirming body. He hadn't lost consciousness at all and I prayed for him not to, for him to feel every ounce of pain I could dish out even though his could never compare to mine.
"Are you alright?" A soft voice inquired, its owner cautiously attempting to steer me away from the carnage. Still sobbing, I answered weakly, "No."
I finally turned away from Oliver then, coming face to face with Cedric Diggory for the first time. I knew him before then, but only by reputation and because my dorm mates spent a lot of time gushing over his good looks and sweet personality. He was tall, but still a few inches shorter than me, with high cheekbones, pouting lips, a nicely sculpted nose, and a round, deceivingly boyish jaw line. He looked a lot younger than me despite the fact that he was a full year older. "Well, um... are you hurt at all?" The teen asked quietly, his speech a little slow from an obvious injury to his jaw where a bruise was already starting to spread on the right side. His disheveled brown hair was falling into his piercing gray eyes, but I could still see the left one was filled with broken blood vessels that were straining the white with deep, angry red.
"No," I answered, shaking my head as I slowly brought a hand up to cup his cheek, "But you are." He winced at the touch--he'd gotten hit there, too--but smiled softly and bravely soothed, "It's nothing."
"You need to see the nurse," I scolded, unaware that my hand was shaking until he put his over the top of it. His hands were big but not as big as Oliver's, calloused but still surprisingly soft, with long fingers and warm palms and I shivered when he moved his thumb gently along the inside of my bruised wrist in an unconscious gesture of comfort.
"I will," He promised, his sincere gaze never leaving my tearful one, "Later. Are you sure you're not hurt?"
"I'm sure," I answered, lying because I was bruised all over and felt like drowning myself in the lake, "You shouldn't have jumped in, but thank you."
Not bothering to move his hand or mine, he shrugged and I could see a slight blush spreading as his cheek grew hot beneath my palm. "It was no trouble," He stated, "Really." He gave me a warm smile, coaxing me to give him one back before I could decide not to. He was sweet and he had helped me. It felt really good to know that, no matter how bad things got, there was one more student at Hogwarts who at least wouldn't turn his back while I was being violated.
He was still blushing, a little uncomfortable that I was touching him but not moving away as he gazed up at me with big open eyes and an almost mesmerized expression on his face. "Are you a new student?" He inquired innocently, "I don't remember seeing you around before."
I recoiled like I'd been burned, my heart aching in my chest as I realized that he didn't know who I was, that he probably wouldn't have cared so much if he had. After a moment of being regarded questioningly by the boy, I gave a bitter, slightly imbalanced little giggle of, "No, I'm not new. Been here all along."
"Oh," He responded, sounding mortified as his blush got worse and he shifted nervously from foot to foot, "Sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. Just that I don't remember seeing you before... I'm Cedric, by the way. Cedric Diggory. What's your name?"
Blinking back tears, I turned away from him, still laughing cynically to myself as I teased, "Ask around. I'm sure you'll have no trouble getting someone to explain who I am and why you shouldn't have helped me."
I sensed rather than saw his frown and confusion, but kept going, walking the short distance back to the small shed and painfully kneeling in the snow to gather the items that had spilled out of my dropped satchel.
I had only gotten a few bent scrolls of parchment into it when I felt Cedric kneel down beside me and help, spelling my crushed inkwell back into one piece and cleaning the ink from my torn satchel before fixing that, too. My hands were cold and clumsy as I desperately tried to stuff away all my books and papers. I had to get out of there because I didn't want to be near the boy when he figured out who I was and remembered that he hated me just like everyone else. It was so nice to have someone treat me like a human being and I didn't want to be around when that stopped.
But his movements were sure and controlled, careful as he held the bag still with one hand and stacked a few books inside with the other. He was trying to be neat, but I was still just stuffing balled up handfuls of assignments, and I knew I looked insane but had to leave right now.
"Stella Black," He finally stated, making me jump and whirl around to see that he had picked up one of my scrolls, that it had come unfurled to reveal an old Charms paper with my name carefully scrawled across the top of it. I froze, my eyes going wide as he regarded me curiously for a few moments. I saw his face fall the moment he figured out who I was, that the bruised and tear-stained blonde kneeling in the snow beside him was none other than the daughter of a notorious murderer and escaped convict.
I snatched my bag away from him and quickly forced myself to my feet. Despite the fact that I hadn't gathered all my things, that my injured knee and hips and back screamed in pain, I sprinted off towards the castle. I ran away and left Cedric kneeling in the snow.
xxXxx
It took me dozens of glamour charms to cover all the visible bruises on my wrists and neck. I was so anxious about the twins finding out what had happened that I couldn't get my hands to stop shaking until almost three days later. I wore gloves to hide the fact that my charmed mood ring was constantly pulsing with swirls of black and light green, the colors representing scared and sick/in pain. The last thing I needed was for Fred to get a look at that because I knew he wouldn't stop until he discovered the cause of my distress.
Oliver was in the Hospital Wing for an entire week having my spell damage reversed. I guess it didn't hit me completely until after he'd been released, until after I passed him unexpectedly on the stairs and it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the castle just from the hatred in his cold stare. He was dangerous; I wasn't safe.
That night, I snuck away to sit by the lake. My dog showed up, and he kept me company while I cried and ranted about Oliver, about how scared I was that he was really going to hurt me because I really believed he would. That boy didn't handle losing or embarrassment well and he had now experiences with both that were linked to me. The shaking came back. I hugged my dog to keep it to a minimum but the great black canine whined all the same as I shuddered against him for hours.
I fell asleep again. In the morning, I was woken up by the sunrise and found that my dog was gone. I stretched out my kinked neck and sore muscles. The bruises made me hurt all over and sleeping on the cold hard ground didn't help.
I walked back to Gryffindor Tower and managed to slip back in before I was missed. I went about business as usual; things were pretty hectic that Friday what with the Slytherin v. Ravenclaw quidditch match scheduled for the afternoon. I didn't find the knife until a half hour into the game, growing chilly and slipping my hands into the soft warmth in the front pockets of my leather jacket.
My gloved fingers met a sleek sliver of wood and metal, and I pulled it out to investigate just as the rest of the crowd around me was getting to their feet to scream about a penalty the Slytherin beater was blatantly getting away with. No one saw me curiously turning the beautiful red and gold handle over close to my face. No one saw when I pushed a little round button on the shaft and a blade almost as big as my hand jumped straight up at me and nearly took out an eye. No one saw me calmly but quickly close and hide the switchblade back in my pocket.
I had no idea where it had come from but I suspected my dad. I thought he must have heard me talking to my dog the night before, and that meant he was close by, on the school grounds even. It also meant he was watching me. Fred and George kept asking why I was smiling as we walked back to school after Slytherin narrowly beat Ravenclaw. "Just in a good mood, is all," I told them, not even the least bit phased by the strange glances they were sharing behind my back.
A few more weeks went by. I noticed Cedric staring at me sometimes from across the Great Hall. The bruises on his face made me feel guilty and uncomfortable, so I tried to ignore the boy. He was probably just gawking at the freak, I decided, rubber-necking as he passed a train wreck. I didn't like the intensity of his looks, feel like I was a puzzle he was intent on solving. I hoped he would soon get bored with me and move on to something else.
I carried the knife everywhere, but Oliver did leave me alone. Well, he didn't leave me alone, exactly, but he didn't assault me again for awhile. Threatening notes started turning up in my satchel and Oliver himself started turning up in odd places, places where I knew he shouldn't have been... like on my routes to class when he should've been on the other side of the castle. It felt a bit like stalking, but slightly less extreme. I was hoping he'd get bored, too, and just leave me alone. That's all I wanted, to just be left alone.
On January 31st, a Monday, I went to Potions class edgy and sleep-deprived, and ended up telling Snape to go to hell the second he started in with his usual jabs. He threw me out and told me to report straight to the headmaster. I went and smoked in the Moaning Myrtle's bathroom instead. The ghost tolerated me because she fancied us kindred spirits, I suppose, since I suffered through teasing and bullying like she had. I personally thought mine was a hell of a lot worse but kept my mouth shut because I was grateful for the hideout.
I skipped DADA, and then lunch, and then Transfiguration. I would've stayed there right through History of Magic and dinner had I not gotten caught.
"Hello?" A familiar voice called, making me jump and run to hide in one of the stalls. "Hello?" It called again, the owner moving into the room and coughing slightly on my smoke, "I know someone is in here. Please answer me."
"This is a girls' bathroom," Myrtle sneered as she floated up near the ceiling. I took another few drags of my cigarette and then threw it in the toilet. I flushed all the butts just in time for Percy Weasley to gently push open the door of my stall.
He's not a dummy though; he knew exactly what I'd been doing and he fixed me with one of those Disappointed Stares that I thought were reserved exclusively for people over the age of thirty.
"Stella," He chided sternly, hands fisted at his narrow hips as he scowled down at me over the top of his glasses, "I thought you were smarter than this."
I shrugged, feigning disinterest as I folded my arms across my chest and responded, "Guess not." Sighing heavily, he gestured me out with a command of, "Let's go."
xxXxx
As much as he hated to do it--which is what our conversation all the way to Dumbledore's office consisted of--Percy turned me in for the smoking. Apparently, it's against school policy. I always suspected it was, but I never knew for sure until then. See, I was still learning things.
With that on top of the Snape incident, I was in "big trouble." Remus was called in for a conference and I was given a very stern talking to about my smoking, failing grades, nearly non-existent attendance, poor attitude, and other behavioral issues that fall under the same general category. They were both upset and disappointed, of course, but the real purpose for the conference was to try to talk me back into going to the shrink. I refused and was sentenced to a week of detentions with Remus.
I had, surprisingly, thus far managed to avoid detentions with my godfather and was definitely not looking forward to them. It's not like I thought he was going to be unfair to me or anything, I just still didn't want to be anywhere near him. I was still upset over what he said about my dad, not to mention how he lied to me about my dad, and I didn't appreciate the forced interaction.
It was a little before midnight when I finally decided to return to Gryffindor Tower and the twins were waiting for me on one of the couches near the fire, their arms folded across their chests as they watched me walk towards them. Knowing in an instant that they'd been told of the events of that day, I rolled my eyes, grumbling, "Stupid tattletale Percy..."
"You're doing it again," Fred accused, his voice more sad than than angry as he got to his feet and stood just in front of me. George followed, and I made a face at the both of them as I asked, "Doing what?"
"Hiding things from us," Fred clarified, his bright blue eyes locked on mine as his strong arms hanging limply at his sides, "And we don't like it."
I opened my mouth to refute the claim but nothing came out. Somewhere along the lines, I had apparently lost my ability and willingness to lie to the twins, Fred especially because he was giving me this awful kicked-puppy face and I just wanted to kiss it away...
Wait. Scratch that. Clearly, what I meant was that, while cute and irresistible, it was manipulative and highly annoying. Right.
"I'm sorry," I whispered sheepishly, hanging my head in shame, "I just can't tell you this one."
"Why?" Fred asked, his voice sounding soft and vaguely injured. Gathering my strength, I managed to bring my gaze back up to his as I stated flatly, "Because I couldn't handle what it would change between us." After a moment of confused pause, I went on, "You look at me and still see a scrawny, big-mouthed, happy-go-lucky little first year pranking you on the train. I suspect I've already lost those good things about myself, but knowing that's what you still see makes me believe that just maybe they're not all gone."
They were speechless, standing side-by-side with identical expressions of fear and worry. "You two are my hope," I told them, my eyes getting glassy as my voice shook, "I don't want you to see what I've become."
After another few moments of silence on their parts, George stepped forward and wrapped me into a great big bear hug. "Stella's gone and lost herself, Forge," He murmured, his voice thick with the forced joke, "Reckon we need to help her find it again, eh?"
I laughed as I buried my head against his neck, squeezing him just as tightly as he was squeezing me, hanging on for dear life. Fred stepped up behind, making me the filling in yet another Weasley twin sandwich as he hugged me and hummed in agreement, "Definitely. We should start our search at the bottom of a few cups of hot chocolate, and then precede to whatever location in the general area houses the greatest amount of explosives.
I was crying just from the sheer relief of being squished between the two boys. They always made me feel so safe... "You know we'll always love you no matter what," Fred added in a serious whisper, "There isn't anything you can do that will change that."
Loved, too. They made me feel loved absolutely unconditionally. I sniffled helplessly, only managing a mere nod as I clung tighter to George.
After several long minutes of merely being comforted by the closeness, we all pulled back at once. The twins communicated through a quick glance over my shoulder, and then Fred gently suggested, "You didn't eat lunch or dinner, so how about we go on a kitchen run?" I sniffled and wiped my eyes as I nodded, agreeing, "That sounds lovely, boys. Thank you."
They stood their ground, staring at me expectantly until I raised an eyebrow and inquired, "Well, aren't you going to go get the map?" By that time, they had already long since given the map to Harry. However, I was not aware of this and they were hoping to drag a few more weeks of ignorance out of me.
"Oh," George sputtered, sharing another significant look with Fred, "Right, ya. We'll just go and get it then. You stay right here." Shaking my head at their strangeness, I watched as they trudged up the stairs, whispering together conspiratorially.
As soon as they were gone, I let out a relieved sigh and collapsed back into the couch, glad to have a few moments to unwind.
But, of course, I didn't really. Almost as soon as my arse hit the cushions, I was jumping up again as a chillingly familiar voice mocked, "You two are my hope. What a load of crap."
"Go away, Oliver," I warned, backing up towards absolutely no escape. My back hitting the wall halfway between the portrait hole and staircases, there wasn't even a remote possibility that I could make it to either before the agile keeper caught me. Running didn't even make a legitimate Plan B.
Fuck.
Glaring dangerously, Oliver stepped out of the shadowed corner he'd been lurking in and advanced towards me, growling, "I'll go anywhere I please. I don't take orders from whores."
"Excuse me?" I demanded, suddenly outraged and angry enough to forget how much the young man scared me. I wanted to challenge him to a duel for my own honor. Pistols at dawn, motherfucker. I will own you.
But, back in reality, he had about a hundred pounds on me and could've snapped me right in half if he really had a mind to do so. And he was probably getting very close to that point.
Fuck.
Where were the twins when I needed them?
"You heard me," The brunette responded, smug and smirking cruelly as he took another few steps closer, "You're nothing but a whore. You think you're so much smarter than everyone, that you're better, but you're nothing. You don't even respect yourself enough to have a problem with fucking a guy you barely know!"
"Actually," I corrected, unable to keep my big mouth from getting me into trouble yet again, "I don't think I'm smarter than everyone. I am smarter than everyone. And I did have one problem with fucking a guy I barely knew. One very small problem." Ok, so maybe it wasn't the greatest idea to question his manhood...
Nostrils suddenly flaring with rage, Oliver shrieked, "BITCH!" and swiftly backhanded me across the face. The blow echoed around the room, wind from the loud CRACK nearly extinguishing the dwindling fire. With a strangled cry, I fell to the floor.
Not even a second later, forgetting to be afraid of injury and death, I was back on my feet and had the switchblade in my hand. The knife popped smoothly, out and shining in the dim light faster than either of us could blink, and then I had it tight against Oliver's throat. The burly brunette swallowed compulsively, staring at me wide-eyed as he slowly began to comprehend what a huge mistake he'd just made. I mean, hadn't he heard? Stella Black is one crazy bitch.
"That is the last time you will ever touch me," I warned, my voice icy, low and dangerous. I didn't flinch, shake, or waver, my blade already drawing a razor thin line of blood from just below Oliver's Adam's apple. Pressing the knife in harder, partly to make a point and partly because I wanted him to suffer like he'd made me suffer, I explained, "For both our sakes, you are never going to lay a hand on me ever again because I can promise you that neither of us will live through it."
A cloud of sour ammonia smell suddenly wafted into my nose, and I knew he'd wet his pants.
You can always tell the men from the boys with a knife to the jugular.
"Understand?" I inquired, thinking that it was only fair he fully comprehended his situation. The boy nodded, whimpering when he nearly impaled himself through the throat with the action. I lowered the knife and Oliver ran like a frightened bunny.
Gryffindor is for the brave, indeed.
I let out a long, shaking breath, in awe that I'd found the strength and will to threaten someone with a knife. To threaten someone who was very likely to tattle on me with a knife.
Fuck.
But, I decided, I could worry about that later. If Oliver wanted to tell on me, I could tell on him right back. Assault and attempted rape are worse than self-defense, right?
Right.
I carefully cleaned his blood off my shiny new knife, my shiny and very much beloved new knife, closed it, and tucked it back into the pocket of my leather jacket as I turned towards the staircases.
The twins were both standing at the bottom of them, their jaws hanging almost to the floor and their faces set in identical expressions of surprise and horror.
Fuck.
None of us said a word, breathed, moved a muscle. They were probably in shock. I was deluding myself with the Jurassic Park T-Rex mindset: if I don't move, then maybe they will be unable to perceive me with their primitive ocular organs.
I always know I'm severely fucked when I start relying on Jurassic Park strategy.
And that happens more often than I like to admit.
"Sooo..." I started uncertainly, fiddling with the silver zipper on my jacket, "Exactly how much of that did you guys see?"
Slowly, still obviously trying to come to terms with the events he just walked in on, Fred stated, "You holding a knife on Wood."
I brightened considerably. "But nothing else?" I asked, hopeful that I still wouldn't have to tell all that had transpired between the keeper and I. "Um..." George drawled, giving me a very strange, unsettled look, "No... that's it."
"Great!" I chirped, smiling happily, "Because it was nothing! I just... um... I had a crazy moment. Ya. And I hallucinated that he was Peter. Ok. I should go lie down now until I'm not so crazy anymore. Night, boys." Before they could argue, I bolted out of the common room and up the stairs, my feet pounding on every step. I tripped twice before I finally made it back to my room and, like a toddler startled by the bogeymen in her closet, dove beneath the safety of my blankies.
Oh ya, I'm smooth.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I am sooooo tired. I hate school. It wouldn't be half bad if it weren't for all the class...
Every review contributes two cents to the Abolishing Class from School initiative.
Sorry that updates have been taking so long. I'm doing my best to write more for this and this other stories as quick as I can. Thank you for being patient.
