Jukebox Plays- Bonny Portmore, by Loreena McKennitt

Chapter 13

It was getting darker earlier now, the leaves that brushed across the high windows were turning more brown then the red and gold she had found so lovely, such a short time ago. Hermione lay on the narrow hospital issue cot, her body curled on its side. The view of the blank folds of the white screen were a far cry from the stars beginning to pick their way out of the darkening sky; but she found she had no stomach for their beauty tonight. She clutched her pillow close to her chest, her head resting against her arm and the trailing edge of the cushion.

Madam McAllister had left the lights in the Infirmary out, protesting that her young patient needed more rest. And as the only illumination from the windows faded into the grays of twilight, and the black of oncoming night, so to did she feel her self fall deeper into the quiet, all encompassing sorrow that had been steadily creeping in on her, from the moment she had awoken from her long sleep.

The pillowcase was rough, never meant for this kind of long use. How long has she been awake now? Nearly a week… The time before that mattered less then nothing at all, in this place out of time, where her waking moments were spent confined to this strange-yet-familiar place, like the echo of a memory she couldn't quite place. Or, in the case of Hermione, didn't want to place. She could hear the footsteps outside in the corridor, the babbling of students making their way around the castle in the last hour, maybe two, because they would be called in for curfew. The world kept spinning, and people continued to live, oblivious to the young woman that languished away in waiting.

Hermione blinked hard, scrubbing her free sleeve over her eyes like a child would. Her chest throbbed with the burning sobs she held back, unable to allow herself that one, small weakness. In this uncertain place there was no room for her grief, and so it was placed in the back of her mind, out of sight. Away with the memories of her friends, and with hope and with joy, away with all the things that had made Hermione herself. But even this new Hermione was not cruel by nature, she and it was this saving grace element which caused her a new pain now.

For the last two nights, she had heard Tom come to the door. And twice now he had been turned away without so much a step over the threshold. His pride would not allow him to beg or plead, but in his quietly measured arguments, Hermione could close her eyes and barely make out the shadows of hurt and confusion he hid so well. And twice how after he had left, she wondered if he was aware of the feelings himself, or were they hidden away so much like her own.

It was so much easier to view things in the black and white, to know what he would become, and hate him for it. To despite with every inch of marrow in the bones, the pain he would cause innocent people. The evil that was surely already turning his human heart to a pulsing mass of black. That it was him, and him alone that had set the wheels in motion that had sent her here to this place. His loyal followers laid out with the side of the light, both warring factions the same in death.

Hermione clutched at the pillow, her fingers digging sharply into the sparse padding inside the case. For all she had tried, there was still one element of her humanity that clung on with a tenacity that she could never have believed possible. Long after the other emotions had given up, retreated back to the place she assigned them- her Loneliness held on. Through the long quiet days in her solitude here, to the longer, more silent nights.

He had been her only comfort, his presence offering the sort of stable calmness that she so craved. A time away from her own confused thoughts, as he asked nothing. Nothing but what he gave, returned to him. Someone to sit quietly with, a human presence that understood that they had long since forgotten the art of little pleasantries- reduced to their core elements, with no idea how to work themselves back to the whole. And neither sure if they wanted to or not.

These thoughts, so very different that they had become the same again, twisted around in her mind like a mental double helix. And as it made up the basis for every mortal man and woman, so did this make up the solid facts to her current dilemma. Hermione knew that she couldn't help him, that perhaps as she had been, she would have a chance. But this new Hermione remembered nothing of the path she would need to tread to pull him away from the evil that would eventually consume him.

It was too big, too much for her. So many questions and no answers, the temptation to hide away behind those heavy, stable doors was too overwhelming to be fought. And as she succumbed to the undertow, Hermione knew that she was abandoning everything that had placed her in her house. That she had fallen so far from the morals of Gryffindor that she could never truly reclaim them

And with that knowledge fell away another little piece of self. Another of the little blocks of truth that kept her anchored to who she was. Melting away like a sandcastle in the rain, her belief in who she was.

Tom could feel his even mood beginning to slither away from his ironclad control. It was an hour until curfew, and the confusion in the cluttered hallways was beginning to thin out as students made their dawdling way back to their Common Rooms. This would be the third, and last time he put his pride aside to try and gain admission into the Infirmary. The first night he had been confused, with no idea of what he might have done wrong to disturb her so much. The image of the soul deep horror that had flashed through her eyes, but for the barest of seconds, before she had asked him to return her to her room.

He had wracked his mind, recalling every detail that he could have possibly have missed- only to come up empty handed. Tom had lain awake that night, his few stolen moments of sleep disrupted by half formed and ethereal images; ones that slipped away the harder he tried to remember them when he woke.

The second night he had moved through confusion, the lack of sleep and frustration forcing themselves through the minute cracks in the mask he had though he had perfected. At being summarily turned away, he was chagrined to remember returning to his room to complete his homework.

At the sight of the black ink dripping heavily down the bare grey stones, after the inkwell had been thrown against the wall in a fit of troubled pique. It was at that moment he realized how far this little enigmatic woman had worked herself under his armor. The sight and mystery of her inching beneath the plates of distain and chilly calm- and he had sworn that he would banish her from his mind. That never again would he walk the path from his dorm to the Infirmary, and quit the place where he had found some measure of acceptance. Where in the last week, had become his odd little haven away from the Head Girl's loud music, and Libya's sideways glances.

And yet here he was again, despite his protests to the contrary. One more night, and a final attempt to gain the answers only she could provide for him. His resolve had held for the night before, granting him a measure of the undisturbed rest he so badly needed. Equilibrium restored, as he made his way through twisting and winding corridors, down the stairs that moved of their own volition. If this didn't work, then he would find a way to clear her from his mind. A memory charm, perhaps; as it was becoming pathetically evident that his own willpower (which had never before met it's match) would not be up to the task.

He shuddered at the image of himself banging on the Infirmary doors, like some modern Arthur Dimmesdale from the "Scarlett Letter". She would not be his Hester Prynne, and drag him into the depths of the darkness he concealed so well from himself. Pulling him wholly and utterly into the madness that would make him question everything he had built for himself, and the plans he had made. The very notion was ridiculous, and he shoved it away from himself as he made his way around the last corner. No, he would remain calm, despite the outcome of this fool's errand.

"Off to visit your little girlfriend, Riddle?" He heard from behind him, just as he was about to push open one of the double doors. The voice was a well-cultured sneer, supreme in it's arrogance. Followed by similar laughter, Tom had no doubts who had followed him to this place. No light issued from inside the room, his mind working over the facts and details he had to work with. Obviously he would receive no quarter from the absent Infirmary Matron, leaving him with only his own skills for his defense.

Tom turned gracefully on his heel, his eyes an impassive, unreadable shade of gray. It was three men that met his gaze, just as he had suspected. The two bookends were highborn purebloods, dark haired and aristocratic looking. Avery and Lestrange then, the green and silver stripes of their Slytherin ties catching the little light that shone down the hallway from the torches set into the walls. The third was the one who had spoken, his coiffed platinum hair and arrogant lift of his chin labeling him as none other then Abraxas Malfoy. Everything about him screaming opulence and money, a combination that most of the girls in their house had fallen to at one time or another.

"What is it, someone with tainted blood like yours can't even find a woman among the healthy? Have to prey on those that have one foot in the grave, isn't that it? Or maybe you like them like that, right Riddle? Weak and helpless so they don't have any fight in them to resist your… advances" He said with a crude leer, once it became obvious that Tom had no interest in rising to his jibes.

Tom's hands twitched, checking to make sure his wand was still loose in his sleeve. The insinuation that he would force himself on her, it turned his stomach in a way he hadn't expected, or encountered before. It was an unpleasant sensation, something akin to the gripping sensation before you are violently ill. He had the distinct impression that that little barb would stick for a while.

"Don't be a fool, Malfoy. Chattering on about something you couldn't begin to understand." He issued calmly, his expression showing nothing of what he was thinking. It was with a slight fragment of malicious delight that he watched Malfoy's perfectly pale skin turn a blotchy red color; an unattractive rage turning his eyes small and rat-like.

"What? Did I strike a nerve, Riddle? Bet those old beds must make a real racket at she tries to struggle out from under you. You'll have to tell me how you do it without getting caught by old McAllister. So tell me, is she any good?"

There was something in the way that he said that, that made Tom feel filthy. As though he had been sluiced with tar, the oily way that Malfoy's words fell around him. It was a new line of insults, ones he had never encountered from the pureblood heir before. And all the while, his goons chuckled to themselves. A tiny movement out of the corner of his eye attracted his attention, as Tom registered that Malfoy had indeed drawn his wand. A flick of his wrist, and he felt the cool wood slide into his palm with a familiar sense of security.

"One movement, and I'll duel you myself." Came a voice from the doorway. It wasn't strong, in fact it rasped against the last word sharply. But nor was it weak, infused with a vein of steel that fortified the simple sentence into something venomous and uncompromising.

All four young men turned their head to the door, taking in vision of the woman that stood there. Framed by the darkness of the room beyond, her hair was a halo of wild curls that were the color of chocolate in the dim light. Her leaned heavily against the doorframe, her anemically thin form seeming to draw strength from the support. In her plain white nightgown, her wand drawn levelly at them, Hermione looked every bit the force to be reckoned with. The expression in her eyes leaving no doubt that she was much, much stronger then she appeared.

"What's this, need help from-"

"Avis Oppugno." Her voice snapped, cutting off Malfoy in mid sentence. In a little less then a heartbeat, a flock of bright yellow canaries flew from the end of her outstretched wand, pecking and swooping down on the pureblood trio. Their sharp beaks drew droplets of blood, sending the boys down the corridors as fast as their feet would carry them. Feathers and down drifted slowly to the floor in their wake, as the attacking little yellow birds took up the pursuit.

The corner of Tom's mouth turned up in an almost smile as he looked at Hermione. The image of the arrogant trio being chased through the halls by a flock of savage songbirds struck him as oddly funny. Hermione smiled back a little, looking so much paler then she should have. But her eyes had a shine in them he hadn't seen before, just a slight bit of life that glittered through the unending nothing he had seen there before.

He quelled his first instinct, a defensive refusal that he hadn't needed help. Some small, empathetic part of his mind recognized that it would cause more harm then good. His original reasons for coming here tonight had not changed, but her actions had left him, if anything, more confused then before.

"Thank you." He offered finally, and she nodded silently in return. Tom knew it wouldn't be tonight he got his answers, reconciling himself to trying again tomorrow. Not bothering to question why that decision should make him feel lighter, instead of annoyed. He did not offer to help her, as she turned back into the Infirmary. Though her steps were slow and shaky- she would not appreciate his pity. And for whatever it may truthfully be, she would see it as charity.

"Goodnight, Tom." She said as she disappeared into the depths of the darkness. They both knew something had changed, though neither knew exactly how.

- ---

Thanks again to everyone who review the previous chapter! And I'm sorry on the delay for this one, but real life has been throwing a bit of a spanner in the works lately, and I haven't had much time to write at all! So I' m so sorry, and thanks for being so patient.

Nerys

Ivory

Svelte Rose

Sachita

Ryn

Stevie K

Rachhulk

Enviousmoon

Blindfaith (good luck with the rehersals!!)

Speed of Darkness

Annikacan

Much cookies for all of you!