I'm so incredibly sorry for the mega-long wait. I totally forgot about updating this story. That said, I have not abandoned it.

As always, thanks to my beta mudbloodproud.

– chapter thirteen –

Saturday

The next morning saw me all grumpy. I had slept badly the rest of the night, always drifting in and out of this mysterious dream. The dorm had felt cold whenever I briefly awoke, and even the thick blanket under which I had holed myself up could do nothing to warm me. I had frozen bitterly.

Savaric asked me what had happened the moment he saw me; he even left out the morning greeting, asking without further ado why I looked so pale. This showed me how concerned he was about my well-being, and it felt good to know he was there for me. But I couldn't answer his question. Not that I didn't want to give him a response – I just couldn't. I tried telling him about the dream, but it was as if there were powers that didn't want him to know; they sealed my lips, and no sound came out. At some point I simply gave up trying to let him in on the dream.

His expression when I turned away was that of anger and mistrust. He couldn't know I couldn't tell him, because I wasn't even able to let him know I couldn't speak about it. Something more powerful than I made sure that the dream stayed a secret, and everything that might be connected to it was included into the silence that surrounded me. It was frustrating sometimes; especially now that I would have to deal with Savaric's unpredictability again.

Though, has my fiancé ever been predictable?

'Miss Black?'

My thoughts had gone as far astray as imaginable, and I hadn't even noticed that I've been sitting in class. It took Savaric's snapping fingers in front of my eyes for me to notice Professor Carpenter having called upon me. Needless to say, I had missed what the class was about, hadn't heard the question and was thus unable to answer accordingly. It came as no surprise that I lost five points for Slytherin.

My concentration that day failed miserably and completely. I think I only took notice of Professor Carpenter announcing the homework for Charms, but everything else just went past like the wind – too quickly to grasp and keep hold of it. Even my own thoughts jumped left and right without a pattern of any sort. I even considered skipping the scheduled homework afternoon with Savaric in the library, but some inner voice contradicted my consciousness and urged me to go there.

The entire day, I felt like being pushed back and forth like a chess figure, only I didn't play the game this time, having no control over the moves on the board. This time I was the pawn. I was being played with.

But by whom?

I had no idea.

--

Robert felt weary. He wasn't ill and couldn't explain why he had no interest in anything at all from the moment on he got up. The classes flew by in a hurry that left him wondering if time had decided to double or even triple its pace. If it weren't for Ranulf and his other friends, he would have missed all homework handed out that day.

'What's up with you, Bob?' Avice asked. She had recovered from her illness and left the Hospital Wing a week before the Halloween party. 'You look lost in thought since I first saw you this morning.'

He failed to answer her. He hadn't even heard her question. He didn't hear anything his friends said… at all. All he heard was a soft whisper in his ears. Robert tried to listen carefully, but he just couldn't understand the words being murmured. The whisper itself wavered in and out, being far and very near at the same time, creating a sound effect of being everywhere. It echoed along the hallways, the walls, the sky outside, even from within his heart. It was ever present, tuning out everything else.

In a way, it was hypnotising.

'Robert?' Ranulf questioned worriedly, prodding his friend on the shoulder. 'Answer me!'

The Hufflepuffs looked horror-stricken. Panic slowly rose amongst their group, and they were about to grab Robert underneath the arms to bring him to the Hospital Wing when he started walking, faster and faster, completely in trance, towards the end of the corridor. They shouted for him to stop, but he didn't react to them.

He turned the corner.

--

After lunch, a quiet whisper has appeared, constantly singing into my ear. I strained to listen to the words, and it was as if I was back in the dream. Audovera it murmured, over and over again.

Who was she? I could swear by my life that I had heard the name before; not in the dream, but even before. If I only knew where…

Without my consent, my feet had dragged me to the library. It was closed, however; a sign at the double doors said the matron had decided to spend that day tidying up and cataloguing new books. But it was important I got in there. Something bad would happen if I couldn't find what I was searching.

I didn't even know what it was that craved me to hit the books, but it was definitely not the homework session.

The sound of steps from around the next corner let me look up, and I halfway expected Savaric to already turn up. But I noticed something else. I was suddenly unusually alerted to my surroundings; something I hadn't been the entire day so far. It surprised me myself a bit, but I had no time to stay on that thought as in that moment, someone turned into the corridor I stood in.

When he saw me, he halted in mid-step, staring at me. His blue eyes were glassed over, seeing me and not noticing me at the same time. A strange sensation ran down my spine, and I felt he experienced the same, his eyes now wide in wonder and realisation. I must have looked exactly like him.

A sudden sweep of wind hurled through the corridor, blowing up our robes. And with the wind came the whisper again:

Audovera.

And as if I had never done anything else, I responded automatically.

'Alaric.'

--

To see her standing there, just like that, in that graceful way she called her own, was a sight Robert had so often dreamed about. She was absolutely beautiful, and no Orwell was to be seen.

Was she his? Finally, after such a long time?

A sudden sweep of wind hurled through the corridor, blowing up their robes and her hair, its silk black tresses glittering in the little light that entered the corridor. And with the wind came the whisper again:

Alaric.

And as if he had never done anything else, he responded automatically.

'Audovera.'

--

A sudden image took over, their inner eyes seeing things that they had never experienced. They saw a wood, stood right in its middle, the surrounding trees pointing high into the dark, night-time sky. They were all white, ice glittering in the stars twinkle. A soft wind blew, whispering silently. They didn't understand it, but felt drawn to it, wanted to follow the wind. But they couldn't move.

The image morphed suddenly and they were flying, faster and more agile than they would have ever been able to do on their own. The whispers were there again, calling softly Audovera. They knew it was cold, but they didn't feel it; instead they continued weaving around the trees.

Again the image changed. They stood, rigid. It was cold and yet warm. Everything was smooth and clear, shining brightly. Again the whispers sounded, a female voice calling Alaric.

The third change found them in perfect warmth, their entire beings from head to toe engulfed in heat. Yet it was comfortably and they sighed, the sounds coming forth in a crackle.

With the fourth image change, they found themselves surrounded by complete darkness. It was at the same time warm and cold, but damp, too. They breathed deeply and it felt like Earth's weight pressing onto them. Feeling completely overwhelmed they closed their eyes…

--

'Isla!'

Someone shook me, called my name, and yet I was unable to respond in any way. My limbs didn't obey my commands, and my voice had gone, the silence once again sealing my lips. My eyes wouldn't open, no matter how hard I tried.

Only my ears were working like they were supposed to.

'Isla! Answer me if you can hear me!'

I can hear you, my thoughts said, responding to the command.

Yet I couldn't answer.

'Isla!' Panic grew in the voice. The speaker cared; he was worried, very worried.

Muffled voices shortly penetrated my mind, and I tried to listen. I only caught a few incoherent syllables, the most prominent among them coming from a young man with a recognisable but feeble voice:

'Audovera.'

Then darkness engulfed my mind and being.

--

It should have been an enjoyable day that weekend. Savaric had planned the last Hogsmeade weekend before the Christmas holidays to the detail, weeks previous, wanting to make the day unforgettable for his betrothed. He knew that she had wished to spend some quality time with him alone, and his intention had been to fulfil it to show her how much he really liked her. Because he, Savaric Orwell, heir to the powerful Orwell Family, had fallen in love with his betrothed. But fortune had other plans, it seemed.

'Are you sure that you will be fine?' he asked, sitting on her bed in the hospital wing, scratching her cat behind the ears, the little feline purring loudly. Isla had fainted two days previous, in the corridor to the library, and had awoken more than twenty hours later only. She had immediately caught a fever and been talking in her sleep. However, the only word she said, and repeated over and over again, was Alaric. Savaric didn't know the meaning of it, but he had insisted that his fiancée was to stay in the hospital wing under supervision of Healer Aramus for the duration of her illness – no matter how long it would take for her to get better. He was insisting that she was cared for properly.

'Yes, I am,' she said with a weak voice. Her attempt at smiling reassuringly failed, and she suddenly dissolved into a heavy coughing that let her body bend over and shake wildly. Savaric felt pity for her clearly visible discomfort. But when she still hadn't stopped coughing after several moments and even started ranging for air, sounding like a dying dog, he sprung down from where he sat on the bed and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to lie down. It still didn't improve anything for Isla so he decided to fetch Healer Aramus.

The man came running out of his little office, adjourned to the hospital wing, when he learned about his patient's state. With one quick look, he had assessed the situation and forced her to gulp down a violet potion that smelled like rotten fish. She drank as ordered and the coughing subsided, but when she had regained normal breathing, her skin colour morphed from ghostly pale to a slight greenish tone; hastily she sprung out of bed and ran into the hospital wing's adjourned bathroom, bending over a sink. With loud retches, she vomited.

Savaric and Healer Aramus had followed her, the former more than just worried; she had swayed dangerously when running to the bathroom, and Savaric wanted to be there to catch her should she faint once again.

When Isla had nothing more inside her stomach that could come out, she sank weakly to the floor but Savaric was with her with the blink of an eye. He held her back and lifted her legs, then carried her back towards the bed, Isla's head leaning against his shoulder. Her skin was glowing from the fever. When lying her down gently, Savaric ushered the cat away to make room for its owner. Isla had paled again and panted heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly with the strength to catch air. With a shaking hand she grabbed his fingers and tucked him closer.

'You go,' she whispered, her voice rasping. 'Do not let the day get spoiled. I'm fine.'

'You are not,' he contradicted. 'I have just witnessed what you call "fine". No, I'm going to stay here.'

'Savaric, there's… there's no need for that.'

'Oh yes? And what if you get worse?'

'Then, Mr Orwell,' the Healer interrupted, 'she will lie in her bed and cure her illness.'

Savaric scoffed, 'As if Isla will do what she is told to do. I know her better than that.'

'Savaric –' Isla began, but the Healer interrupted again, his voice stern, 'Mr Orwell, when I intend to supervise a patient, then I do so with all means. And I usually do not allow them to get out of bed when they are seriously ill. In fact, I was going to provide Miss Black with this.' He took out a vial, filled with yellowish liquid, giving it a slight shake.

'What is it?' Isla asked curiously. Her grey eyes were glassy from the fewer.

'It's a potion providing sleep. It has a slight side-effect, however; the drinker might get the one or other strange dream. But the sleep is very much curing, the best medicine for a high fever and bad cold.' He uncorked the vial and offered her the potion. Thankfully, Isla took it and downed the vial's content in one go. The effect occurred immediately; Isla fell back into the cushions, sleeping deeply.

'Fine,' Savaric eventually consented after some moments of just watching her now peaceful looking face. 'I'll leave her. Come on, Sol.' He reached for the feline that had curled itself comfortably next to its owner's head on the cushion, but the Healer offered, 'You can leave the cat with her, Mr Orwell. I don't mind such a little cutie in the Hospital Wing, and this way Miss Black will have some company when she awakes.'

With a last doubtful look towards the Healer, Savaric bid his farewell and left the hospital wing. He planned to spend the day with his comrades now.

--

I awoke to hushed voices whispering in close proximity, probably next to my ward. Sol lay on my stomach, blinking his eyes sleepily. The feline's body rose and sank with my breathing, and it purred contently. His front paws lay stretched out and gently massaged me through my night-gown. I weakly lifted a hand and stroked my pet's head fondly; it lifted its head and opened its eyes, staring at me with an unreadable expression.

'Ah, Miss Black, you're awake again. How are you feeling?' Healer Aramus said, coming around the ward's wall.

'A little bit better,' I answered while he checked my temperature with a hand on my forehead. 'The sleep did help a lot.'

'I daresay. But your fever is still a bit high and you still sound very weak, so stay right where you are and I'll quickly concoct you another potion.'

'Thank you,' I whispered but he was already hurrying away.

I intended to just close my eyes and go back to sleep without the potion, but a head popping around the ward's wall caught my curiosity. I focused my gaze and discovered a familiar person.

'I didn't know that you were really ill,' Robert said and slowly came closer. Sol lifted its head and mewed welcomingly.

I coughed a bit and explained, 'I've been here since two days ago, after that strange… "incident" on the library corridor. Savaric told he had brought me here.'

Robert nodded. 'My friends said you'd been unconscious after the "incident" for more than twenty hours.' His eyes darted everywhere but meeting my own. 'I saw you only briefly. You were so pale.'

I looked at him the entire time, but something made me choose my next words with carefulness. 'I was told I was talking while I was unconscious from the fever.'

Now his blue eyes sought out my grey ones. On the outside he was calm, but his thoughts were racing. I could literally feel the mixture of excitement, worry and something else I could not name pouring out of him. It encircled and engulfed him like a soft but gleaming cloak. 'And,' he began, his voice shivering slightly, 'what were you saying?'

Everyone else might have not seen anything bad in this question. Everyone else might have answered quite simply, with the truth. But what held me back? What let my voice remain silent? I had seen him in that corridor. I had heard him whisper the name that went with the one my mind was chanting at the very moment, urging me to say it out loud. So why was the one figure that played with us not allowing me to voice it towards Robert who was more than clearly involved?

'Do you have an idea what it means?' Robert's voice brought me back from the trip down my thoughts. He didn't seem to be disappointed for the lack of my answer to his other question, but I knew he was, deep down.

'What means what?' I stupidly asked. His question hadn't registered with me; I was still too engulfed in my own thoughts.

The look he sent me was unreadable which was a novelty; he had never before been able to hide his thoughts or feelings behind a mask as he was not used to wearing one, and I was too skilled in reading him. But either he had really quickly learned it in the last days, or I was too weak to see through his mask; I tended towards the latter. 'The dreams we had. The story behind Audovera and Alaric.' He sounded as if he had to suppress the excitement to find out about the lovers because that was what they apparently had been, once.

And which was exactly what I wanted to find out, too. I also felt the same excitement Robert did. I needed to know more about them. Who were they? What connected them to Robert and me? To my wand?

My gaze fell on the slender wood lying on the small bedside table.

'You know, with all others gone to the village, we could go to the library to find out about them,' Robert suggested, his fingers drawing patterns on the bed cover. Sol's eyes were fixed on the Hufflepuff's every move. It was relaxing, watching my cat being in a playful hunting mood. A small but happy smile stole itself onto my lips.

'Savaric and I originally wanted to spend this day in Hogsmeade together,' I then told Robert, all of a sudden feeling in the mood to talk. 'But seeing that I now have fever…'

'Yes… I know… bad idea to go to the village then.' Or to the library, he seemed to want to add, but remained silent for which I was thankful. I didn't need another reminder of my inconvenient illness.

Silence fell during which Robert hoisted himself up onto a small edge of my bed, reaching out a hand to scratch Sol behind his ears. The cat's purring intensified. Just then I noticed a bandage on his left hand.

'What happened to your fingers?' I asked, motioning towards his injury.

'Oh, that…' He grinned stupidly. 'I have been brewing a potion with Avice, you know, a class and housemate of mine…' I nodded and he continued, 'Anyway, we had decided to spend this day improving my potion brewing skills instead of going into the village with the rest of the school. I have been cutting ginger roots when the knife slipped and sliced my fingers.' I pulled a face; he was such a walking disaster sometimes. 'I could admit, too, though,' he continued, his voice having dropped in volume; he looked around as if he was about to tell me a conspiracy, 'that my thoughts had been… distracted from the thick fumes coming from the cauldron.'

My eyebrows went up, and I gave a sound from me that sounded like snorting.

Now it was his turn to raise his eyebrows. 'I didn't know ladies snort.'

'I didn't.'

Robert shook his head. 'You very well did.'

'Ladies don't snort, like you said. And I am –'

'You are what?' he interrupted me, grinning from one ear to the other. Apparently, he had a lot of fun teasing me like this. 'You want to be a lady? There's a lot more that makes a real lady.'

My eyes tightened, and when I responded, my voice was dangerous. 'Every born female Black is a lady, Hitchens. Never question that or you might regret it one day.' I was a bit surprised at myself for the choice of my words as well as that I sounded like a hissing and spitting cat.

For some long moments, no one spoke. Sol had even stopped purring; instead, he had got up and was staring intently at Robert, his eyes mirroring my defensiveness from moments before. But sitting together without saying a word can only last so much.

'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings,' the Hufflepuff finally apologised. I didn't say anything in return; I merely nodded my consent, and he was forgiven. Sol visibly relaxed and mewed.

I pointed at his bandaged hand. 'And now?'

He looked at it for some time before answering, 'Healer Aramus mended everything and it's going to be as good as before – or, rather, as clumsy as before.' Robert at first only smiled, not meeting my gaze, but when he then looked at me and caught my lips twitching with amusement, he openly laughed at his own joke. The sound of his laughter was contagious, and I couldn't do anything else than giggle right along. He could be quite cute when he was like that.

Sol had now completely stopped staring at Robert and stretched himself, his weight pressing into my stomach, but I didn't mind; he didn't weigh much. Then the feline toddled towards my face, mewled several times, then sat down on its behind and began licking my left cheek. I giggled at the tickling feeling and gasped, 'Stop it. You're tickling me.' Sol didn't want to stop I mused when the feline's tongue continued to meet my skin. I had to use my arms to push my cat away; Sol settled licking my hand instead, however. 'I said stop it, you little wanker. It tickles,' I giggled, then added more sternly, 'Solaris!'

As if I had slapped my pet, the cat stopped the licking instantly, mewled sulkily, then jumped off the bed, and with his tail raised high into the air, trudged out of the ward. I shouted after it to call it back, but without success. Sol didn't even deign to look at me.

'Wow,' Robert said, smirking, 'this feline has personality.' I glared at him, but he continued speaking, this time more sincere, 'I thought his name was Sol.'

Just then I realised what I had called the cat and looked into Robert's eyes. Their expression was surprise mingled with shock and pride. I smiled shyly, feeling my cheeks redden. I doubted it was because of the fever. 'It is, but just the nickname,' I explained, diverting my eyes and looking everywhere but at him. 'His real name is Solaris though. I named him… this because I liked the name.' After a few seconds debating whether or not to add it, I just did. 'The same name you gave yourself after our project back then.'

The fond and happy sparkle in the clear blue eyes was everything but born from my imagination. And the warmth that radiated through me – I was sure this time that it had definitely nothing to do with the fever – made me realise that it was a fantastic feeling, being smiled at like this.

And I realised that I could drown for evermore in Bob's smiles.

Please let me know what you think by reviewing. Thanks.