Chapter Thirty-One | To the Land of Scholars

"So… girlfriends, huh?"

Flipping the page, Hermione let out a quiet hum before it quickly morphed into a strange, choking noise as she looked up from her book at Catherine, sitting at the other end of her (their?) bed.

"Uh-"

Catherine's grin slowly stretched wider as Hermione fumbled over her words, looking as if she was about to tear a page right off the spine. Knowing how that would end - horribly - she slowly reached over and plucked it from Hermione's hands, placing a bookmark between the pages and setting it down on the bed.

"Uh?"

"Shut up."

"Sorry?"

"Cat!"

"What?"

"I… you-" Throwing herself over in shame, Hermione swore loudly as her head bounced off the backboard. "Damnit!"

"Shit." Catherine crawled the two feet over, easily picking up Hermione and rubbing the back of her head. "You alright?"

"I would be if you weren't such an arse."

"You know me."

"Yes. An arse."

"You say the sweetest things."

Groaning, Hermione pressed her forehead against Catherine's shoulder. "Alright. Yes. I called you my girlfriend. Happy?"

"Very." She kissed the top of her head, nose itching as it brushed against the mess of curls. "Because now I can call you that as well."

More groaning, and Hermione wormed her way in closer. "Quiet."

"Make me."

For a moment Hermione froze. Just as suddenly, she reached up and pulled Catherine into a searing kiss, pushing her onto her back and cradling her face as she mashed their lips together.

It was over in a blink, Hermione straddling her waist and Catherine laying against the bed with her hair splayed over the covers, breathing rapidly.

"What the-"

"Don't start something you won't win."

"Jesus Christ, Hermione." Eyes screwed shut, Catherine tried to blink away the stars that danced over their lids. "I- what- I don't… fuck."

Hermione lay down on top of her, head nestled into the crook of her neck. "You knew exactly what I was going to do."

"I didn't expect- I didn't- not that."

"What, are you complaining?"

"No, just surprised." She laughed quietly. "You've got a fierce streak in you, and you always like to remind me when I least expect it."

"I'm not… I stopped being shy a long time ago. Not like- not like how I was before, when you first met me, but I'm not scared of being me anymore."

"And I love that. You're fantastic, and you shouldn't ever hide yourself."

"Mmhm. And you're the one saying that, Miss 'I refuse to ever talk about my feelings?'"

"Well that's for-" She stuttered uselessly. "I- I can't exactly go around screaming to the world how fucked up I am."

"Hey. Don't say that."

Peering up at Hermione, Catherine felt her heart stutter at the withdrawn expression she wore. Eyes narrowed, her lips pulled down, and her jaw clenched just enough to see the bones straining outward.

"You alright?"

"Am I alright? You-" Sighing and propping herself up on her elbow, Hermione gently ran her fingers over Catherine's cheek. "You see yourself as this… I can't put it into words. It's not healthy, Cat, and I know - I know that everything is awful right now and up is down, but do you… do you really see yourself like that?"

"Like what?"

"I caught a glimpse when you let me look in your head, but- god, it hurts to even think about. You don't like yourself. You hate yourself, sometimes. Most times, I think… I don't want to- to confront you or anything, but it worries me. I look at you and I see someone so amazing, so selfless, so incredibly wonderful. You're not just my girlfriend, you're my best friend. It kills me to know that you look at yourself and see none of that."

And god, that was a line of questioning that she'd forgotten to be fearful of. Not with Yharnam, chasing down ghosts and monsters into the endless moonlight. Not with a task to focus herself on, to consume her very being and hone her psyche into a weapon of one part determination and the rest unrepentant stubbornness.

Lord, how she hated that question.

It was something that used to harry her every step, the bitter moments where her thoughts weren't clouded with plans of survival.

How to sneak food from the Dursley's, duck her head away from the iron gaze of Snape, bark fury at Draco, Voldemort - at the world for making her this way, all patchwork and fraying threads.

How could she not see herself that way when it was the image that had been foisted upon her from the first moment her brain had shuddered in its cage? Those synapses firing, sparking, setting alight that first, glorious realization that she, Catherine Potter, existed.

Meat in a jar, bone and muscle - all of that grimy, sodden mess strung together with nothing but spite and a glaring, single-minded urge to keep on living. If not for herself, then for the ones who had finally deigned to give her the time of day. To look at her and see not the mosaic, the torn letters of a magazine that formed her public persona, fashioned the day her parents died and world crumbled.

No.

To look at her and see her.

Her relationship with thoughts of suicide didn't escape her, that oxymoronic tilt to her unending drive for survival. It had always been a thought of comfort, of inevitable escape from the war that was her life. A very literal killswitch with which to give herself control over every minutiae of her existence. It was a form of survival unto itself, to have the last word when for so long she had been silent.

So her breath caught, and really, she shouldn't be getting so worked up about this, but godammit no one had ever asked.

"I do. I… I do see myself like that, but… not the same I don't think. It's-" Catherine let her eyes wander over the canopy above, four wooden posts sitting dark at the corner of her vision. "It's different, somehow. Like I know myself better, but- but I've lost my sense of… who I am? Who I used to be?"

Her hand raised, fingers nudging her glasses and scratching at the small indents the pads left on the bridge of her nose, an almost imperceptible but permanent mark on her body.

"Yharnam has mixed things up so much that it feels like I'm somehow coming into myself, finally feeling comfortable in my own skin, but at the same time I keep surprising myself, and- it doesn't make sense, but I'm not surprised that I keep surprising myself."

Turning her head, Catherine tried to look for something in Hermione's eyes, only finding patience and the glimmering, heartbreaking sympathy she always bore. It made her smile.

"I'm scary, unnerving now, and I know it. Most people don't pick up on it, they're not even conscious of how they react, but they react all the same. They try to tilt their heads and listen for my footsteps that are much, much too quiet. They see the shine of my teeth, not quite noticing how much sharper they are. How much longer." Without even realizing it, her hand raised again, pressing and prodding at the warped tissue that ran from cheek to cheek. "The scars are obvious. My attitude. But they don't see how dangerous I am, how dangerous I've always been. Some part, some little voice at the back of their head tries to tell them I'm not human, not wholly, not like them anymore, but they either ignore it or don't listen."

"Catherine…"

"No. Hermione, it's… honestly? It's fine. I don't think I hate myself. Sure, I'm not a fan of me, but after everything I've been through the last few months," she trailed off, before breaking into a low chuckle. "What was it Ron said? Finally put things into perspective?

"Everything I worried about seems so small, insignificant now. What people thought of me. What I thought of me. It's all…" Catherine closed her fingers around empty air, holding the nothingness tight against calloused palms. "It doesn't really mean anything to me anymore. I'm just- I'm just some girl in way over her head, dealing with bullshit I can't even begin to understand, and- and that's okay."

She almost laughed at Hermione's horrified look. "Not like that. I mean… it's not okay but that doesn't mean I can't - I don't know - come to terms with it? I'm me. I'm going to keep changing, growing, learning, fighting and… and I'm fine with that."

"That's…"

A thousand expressions danced over Hermione's face. Awe, melancholy, acceptance. They all intertwined, moulding together into contemplation.

"That's remarkably healthy, all things considered. You've always fought so hard, adapted so quickly to the worst that life keeps throwing at you. I don't know why I thought this would be different."

"It is. It really is different. It's forced me to really look at myself, to question every action and try to answer the one that's been bothering me every year since I've come to school - 'how far would I go to survive?'"

"And.. how far is that?"

"I don't think I've found the answer yet, and to be honest, I hope I don't."

"I hope you never have to." Hermione kissed her cheek, lingering for a few moments, before drawing away with a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I'll get through this, I know I will."

As she said that, Catherine's jaw twitched, a yawn sneaking out from between her lips.

"Well, shit."

"It's getting close to that time again, isn't it? A week here, and a week there."

"Yeah."

She didn't have it in her to tell Hermione that her stretches in Yharnam were drawing longer, always had been when compared to her time at Hogwarts. She'd spend days puttering around the Dream and locked away from even time itself, learning from its denizens the laws of the realm she found herself in.

Hours could be spent in that place, weeks, she imagined, with barely a moment passing in the waking world.

Catherine hadn't yet asked Gehrman or the Doll why exactly that was, but she hadn't felt the need to sus out the particulars of a buried workshop, cut out of existence and placed upon an island in the dark. It may be important in future, anything could, but her first and foremost motive in that place was to press forward, to gain as much ground as possible before being sent back home.

"I don't want to go."

"I wish you didn't. I wish I could take all this away from you. I wish it was all one long nightmare, and I could wake up here next to you and see your face smiling back at me, with no Voldemort or Yharnam in sight." Pressing her hand against Catherine's jaw, she traced her cheekbones with the flat of her nail. "I adore you, and it frightens me that it took me this long to see it."

"You've always been as stubborn as me."

"And too busy reading, to boot."

They beamed at each other, before Catherine wrapped Hermione in her arms. "I'll do everything I can," she whispered, lips pressed against her hair and the sands of sleep weighing down her eyes. "Everything I can, to come back safe and sound. To see you, Ron, Dumbledore… I'll do everything I can to finish this."

Hermione's lips quirked against her throat. A smile. "Sweet dreams. I'll be here waiting."

So Catherine slept, warm and drowned in comfort, not knowing where her arms began and Hermione's legs ended. Instead, she knew the steady beat of Hermione's heart against her own, the thrum of life in her veins, and fell into slumber listening to that sweet lullaby.

-::-

Beast wails and church bells rang in the distance, Catherine's eyes slowly opening to see Emilie still lying in bed, curled on her side and Catherine's hand held tightly in her own.

With a gentle smile, she let go, gently removing her hand before running her knuckles over Emilie's hair, tucking a stray lock behind her ear.

"Hello, little one," she whispered. "You're a far better sight to wake up to than tombstones and wolf-men."

"Mm?"

"It's alright. Hush, go back to sleep."

"Arianna?" Emilie asked, rubbing her eyes. "Is it morning yet?"

Sighing and silently reprimanding herself for waking up the poor girl, Catherine pulled her hand away. "It's Catherine."

She almost fell off the stool as Emilie shot up, sitting cross-legged on the cot in the blink of an eye and staring at her with wide eyes. "You're back!"

"Yeah, I am."

"Oh, oh! I was so worried! Missus Arianna said you went to Hemwick and- and you didn't- you were gone for so long and-"

"Hey, it's okay, I'm right here." Patting Emilie's knee, Catherine gave her what she hoped to be a comforting smile. "And I got rid of those mean old witches. They won't hurt anyone ever again."

"Really!?"

"Really, really."

"But- but you could have been… hurt! Or, or… or you could've, you might've- what if you didn't come back?"

"I will always come back, Emilie. That's a promise. Want to shake on it?"

"What?" Emilie looked at her offered hand with confusion. "Shake?"

"Yep. It's what we do where I'm from. To make a promise. Here, like this," she said, taking Emilie's right hand and placing it in her own. "See? Like this? And then we shake."

"Oh. A promise?"

"Exactly."

Frowning, Emilie jerked her head, nodding once. "Okay," she announced seriously, giving Catherine's hand a single, violent shake. "Promise."

Unable to help herself, Catherine laughed at the determined expression on the little girl's face, squeezing her hand once before letting go. "Look at that, an honorary Brit already."

"Is that where you're from? Brit?"

"Britain, but we also call ourselves Brits sometimes."

"I've never heard of it."

"It's very, very far away."

"And you came from there, all the way here? Wait!" Her jaw dropped, hands slapping the bed. "You said there's a bunch of good witches where you come from? Are they all good witches?"

"Not everyone there is a witch, or a wizard! Boys can have magic too."

"Wow."

"There's actually not too many of us. It's rare to have magic, but I go to a school for it with a lot of other witches and wizards just like me."

"School? Like at Church?"

"You don't have schools here?" Catherine asked, wondering why she was so surprised by that. Of course the Church controlled all education in the city, or parents privately taught their own children. "Where I come from, everyone goes to school until they're eighteen, almost every day."

"That sounds… wow! And- but- what about…"

"What's all this excitement, then?"

Catherine turned her head to see Arianna leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed and a faint smile on her face.

"Telling Emilie all about home."

"Home? And where do you call home, o' mysterious hunter?"

"She's not called Mysterious, Missus Arianna. She's Catherine! And she's from Bri-tan."

"Britain," Catherine softly corrected.

"It's very, very far away she says, and did you know they have witches there? Good witches, like Missus Catherine!"

"Do they?" Arianna caught Catherine's eye, one brow raised, sly and perfectly groomed. "How intriguing." She walked over, all poise and presence, and Catherine found herself reminded of Narcissa Malfoy - if not in tone, in stature. "Off you get Emilie, Elijah was asking for you and he has breakfast ready downstairs."

"Okay!"

Before Catherine knew it, Emilie was hugging her, little arms wrapped tight around her waist and head pressed against her belly. "Thanks for promising."

"Of course." She patted her on the head, sending Arianna a pleading, but pleased look. "I'll always come back, okay? You can't get rid of me that easy."

Grinning up at her, Emilie skipped out of the room, offering a cheery wave to 'Missus Arianna' as she left.

"So… you sleep alright?"

"Just fine, thank you."

"Good, good. Did you… want to chat?"

Lips curling, Arianna sat primly on the edge of her bed. "You leave me very curious. I don't believe I've ever had the pleasure of meeting a hunter who conducts themselves as you do."

"Well, I'm not exactly from here."

"Even that. You're educated, young, and far more sane than the other hunters I've had the misfortune of interacting with in my day to day."

"I've only met a few others myself. Ended up killing half of them."

"Blood drunk?"

"Yeah…"

Patting the bed, Arianna beckoned her over. "Come, sit."

Catherine decided to take the stool. After having her revelation in Hogwarts a few days ago about Arianna's behaviour, she decided it safest for both their sakes to keep her distance. She had to force down a laugh at the disappointed look on the woman's face.

Wait, wasn't she… a good few years older than Catherine? Arianna had to be in her twenties at least. She shivered. Yharnam really is like living in the Tudors.

"So you've run into a lot of hunters?"

"Something like that." Arianna tilted her head. "You still don't know what I do, do you?"

"Thought you were a noble judging by the dress."

Arianna threw her head back and laughed, smoothing out her skirt and wearing a sardonic grin. "That's precisely what I mean. You show a level of naivety I've never before seen in a Yharnamite, or even one unfamiliar to these cursed walls."

"Not a noble, then."

"Far from it, my dear."

"The dress?"

"A keepsake from my home."

Drumming a beat on the floor with her heel, Catherine crossed her arms. "You're an outsider too?"

"Ah, the worst of them all. It's the reason I practice my craft."

"Like I said, I'm from very, very far away. I don't hold to the same prejudices that Yharnamites do."

"You won't manage to get my home out of me that easily, not unless you were particularly… persuasive in your attempt."

"I'm with someone."

"Ah." Her eyes glimmered with amusement. "Took you long enough. I don't think they ever have to know, do they? It's a very long night, surely they'd understand if you needed company to keep you warm and safe from the monsters in the dark."

"I'm afraid I have to refuse."

"Well, you're no fun at all," Arianna said, though her tone was full of humour. "A married hunter. Even more peculiar."

Coughing and spluttering, Catherine shook her head. "Married?"

"You're with someone. Courting? Betrothed?"

"Dating."

"Dey-ting?" She echoed, the word not translating automatically in Catherine's head.

Must have spoken in English.

"I guess it could be compared to courting. You spend time with someone, get to know them, see if you do well together."

"How very interesting. How far away did you say this Britain was?"

"Very."

"Beyond the waking sea? Over the Güld Mountains? I'm an educated woman myself, and I've never once heard of a land called Britain."

"It's another world entirely."

"You mean to say…"

"When I said I'm not from here, I really meant it." Catherine shrugged, there wasn't exactly any harm in telling the denizens of the Chapel where she was from. The worst they could do was think her mad, which if she were to be honest, she probably was. "I went to sleep one night and then woke up here. I thought it was a dream, but then a man came round the corner and cut me from shoulder to waist. I was saved, but not before realizing how real this all was."

"Remarkable."

She huffed out a laugh. "If that's how you want to put it. Yharnam is like something out of a book, and not a very pleasant one. I've read horror stories that this place puts to shame."

"When you mean another world…"

"I mean another world."

There was a knock at the door, and the two turned to look as Adella poked her head in. "Lady Catherine?"

"Hey, Adella. We were just chatting, you can come in if you'd like."

"Ah, I was curious if you were wanting food. Elijah has prepared a meal."

"Dreamer's don't really get hungry, but I might be unique in that."

"Oh! Oh, so…"

"Nothing for me, thanks. Arianna?"

"I've already eaten."

"Good. Ehm- did you want me to-"

"You can stay, I already offered," Catherine sighed, the hero worship leaving her gut churning. "I'm no one special, alright? Just- just treat me like any other person."

"But-"

"Please."

"If that is what you wish," Adella said with a short bow. "Enjoy your conversation. If you require anything, you need only ask."

Offering her a strained smile, Catherine nodded. "Thanks."

The door shut, and Catherine groaned, rubbing her temple with rough fingers. "I thought I got away from it all, but here I am in another world with more of… that."

"Why, Lady Catherine, are you royalty?"

"No! Not at all. I'm famous back home for the incredible feat of not dying."

"Dreamers are always famed, unless they go out of their way to avoid such a thing."

"Not like that. There was a war before I was born, and it only ended the day the madman orchestrating the whole thing decided that infant me needed to die. He used a curse designed to kill and it failed spectacularly, when it had never failed in our entire history. I'm the only person to ever survive the spell, and because of that it was decided that I was something to be… almost worshipped." Cold shocks ran over her spine and she shuddered, remembering the first time she had been to the Leaky Cauldron and the sheer adoration that swept throughout the room, how terrifying it was for everyone and anyone to know who she was at just a glance. "I hate it. I absolutely hate it."

"You come from a very strange place indeed. This man came to murder an infant and you're famous for surviving such a thing?"

"To sum it up, yeah."

"Mad."

"Completely and utterly mad."

They both laughed, Arianna wearing what Catherine realized to be a genuine smile on her face, not one tailored for a clear purpose. It reminded her of Snape, and she wondered if the man had ever properly smiled in his life.

Perhaps during his time at Hogwarts, but she couldn't imagine the man as he was ever finding anything amusing, apart from her own suffering.

"How in the world did you ever come to arrive here?"

"That… that I can't tell you."

"Then may I ask you another question?"

"Depends. I might not answer."

"Tell me of your home. A land of mages sounds… whimsical, as if a storybook."

"It's not all magical. There's actually not too many of us, maybe a hundred thousand across the entire country. The rest are muggles, what we call people without magic, and they number…" Her eyes cast to the ceiling, trying to remember how many called the United Kingdom home. "Somewhere around fifty million?"

"Fifty…" Arianna blinked unsteadily, looking rattled. "Fifty million?"

"Whole planet almost had six billion the last I checked."

"That's- that's inconceivable. How is every scrap of land not packed full? How do you feed yourselves? Live in such tight quarters?"

"We're very far ahead of Yharnam and the rest of this world when it comes to what we've invented. People figured out ways to fly, buildings reach far higher than even the clocktower over the cathedral. We just… build up, I guess. Like you do, but more. Yharnam is… I would guess around four hundred to five hundred years behind us, judging by the weapons and buildings."

"Flying?"

"Yep! It's like a carriage made out of steel, with wings and big… I don't know how I'd describe it. We call them engines. I don't know how they work exactly, but they make it fly."

The expression Arianna wore could only be described as wondrous, mouth open in shock and eyes shimmering with rapturous excitement. "Incredible."

"Yeah. There's a lot of development to be done over the ages. Just think of what things used to be like four hundred years ago and imagine how far your world has come since then."

"That's a fair point. Yharnam must seem terrible to you, full of squalor and naught more than a hovel compared to your home."

"Actually, there's some parts of it that I think are incredible. The spires, how the city seems to just grow on top of itself. I said it seemed like it came out of a book and it really does. Not a good book, mind you, maybe something made to frighten the people that read it."

"Is that such a thing? Books written to scare their reader?"

"I happen to love them."

"You really are a strange breed, Catherine."

"Please. My friends call me Cat."

Arianna beamed, looking far younger. "Thank you."

"I do have to ask, since you seem to be so good at giving directions-" Arianna laughed again. "-where on earth do I find Byrgenwerth? I think I need to go looking there for the answers I need, but from what I've heard it's been locked away."

"Seeking trouble already? Byrgenwerth can be found beyond the Forbidden Woods, to the west. I believe the old road begins near the main plaza."

"Is that the big rotunda full of giants?"

Grimacing, Arianna hummed. "Unfortunately, yes."

"They shouldn't be too much trouble, but I'd rather not fight them unless I have to."

"I never imagined a Dreamer would fear such things."

"I'm not scared of them, I just don't try and fight unless I can help it. It's easier to sneak past something than to try and kill it."

"A wise hunter. I don't believe we've had one of those since the time of Ludwig."

"First hunter, right?" Catherine asked, wondering why Gehrman was never given that title.

"Aye. He and his moonlit sword kept this city cleansed for many a year, until the day he disappeared."

There was only one thing that could fell a hunter that experienced. Either a beast, or his own frail mind. Catherine hoped it was the former.

"Thank you, Arianna. You've been more helpful than anyone else in this place."

"It's the least I can do. I'd rather see the sun within the next month than sit and hide from the beasts beyond."

"Same here. I'd rather get home and stay home, leave this place far behind me," she muttered, trying to forget her promise to Emilie.

She'd always come back, until she wouldn't.

"Thank you, again. Moonlight's burning and I have some ground to cover if I'm mucking through a forest."

"Take care of yourself, Cat."

She smiled at her new friend. "You too."