CHAPTER 11: DIVISIONS
Erif woke early the next morning, her arm burning. She staggered out of bed and got dressed, and then left her dormitory with the intent of finding Professor Bailey. As she walked past the dying embers of the fire, the small flames seemed to reach toward her, but she ignored them as best she could.
She walked toward the Great Hall, her mind musing over the events of yesterday. Despite the long hours between Dumbledore's announcement of the events and Professor McGonagall's announcement that they could finally leave the Common Room at around six that night, all she could remember of that time was hiding, and waiting, and the vague sense that time was running short...
She could remember in detail the Sphere's premonition, and what she saw she didn't want to see ever again. If, as the Sphere seemed to suggest, she and Harry were intertwined by their fates, what more had he seen in the Time Globe of her secrets?
And why had You-Know-Who taken Draco? She could not even begin to guess at the Dark Lord's reasoning... The only idea she had was that Malfoy had fought the Dark Lord and Patil had been caught in the middle of it; and even that paled when she thought of how much it made sense. Draco seemed a heartless boy, intent on proving that he was better than everyone else.
She grabbed a piece of toast in the almost empty Hall; and with a nod to the brave duo from Hufflepuff sitting at their lonely table, she left in search of either Dumbledore or Bailey.
Walking through the halls alone had been a relief; she could be herself, and think about whatever came to mind, and not explain it to inquisitive minds and eyes. She rubbed her arm and glanced down at it; the mark was glowing as red as ever, and she covered it with her sleeve impatiently.
She walked past the Teacher's Lounge when she heard a familiar voice. She paused outside, and was about to open the door when the tone of voice made her pause.
"--And took Malfoy, why?" Summer was saying, her voice strained.
"I haven't quite figured that out, but I want to know how they got inside in the first place." Snape's cold dark voice responded back.
"And Patil wants to go home... which is very understandable, but can we allow her to under these circumstances?" McGonagall's sharp voice continued.
Dumbledore spoke next. "We cannot allow her to go home. Not yet, anyway. We are trying to establish a Gate of sorts--"
He was cut off by a collective gasp. Bailey recovered first, saying, "But how is that possible? If you break rules and regulations..."
"Dumbledore," Snape added, "You're already considered off the edge by the Minister of Magic. If you go against everything that he has established, you risk your job."
"At the very least," Summer stated.
"I know the risks, and I know that this must be done. It will only be a temporary one, and only the four of us and the Patils will need to know."
"But how will she get back here?"
"We shall have to ask her if she wants to stay at home over an extended period of time, until we can find a safer way to get there." With that settled, Dumbledore was ready to move onto other things. "Summer, how is Arlé coming along?"
Summer sighed before responding, "It's slow. She requires the potion to control it..."
"She was too young for this mark, this task..." Snape added.
"She will be able to control it, if we give her time."
"Time makes the best heroes..." Dumbledore stated. "Look at Potter."
"Although I hate to admit it, you are right," Snape sighed.
Erif backed away slowly, not wanting them to hear her. Thankfully, she was still wearing her socks, so she was able to sneak down the hall in silence. She went back to the Common Room where, an hour later, Bailey came to get her.
"Erif?" Bailey asked, and Erif jumped out of her trance.
She looked up, and Summer shook her head as they met eyes. "I think you've become too dependent on the potion. Follow me..."
They walked out of the Common Room together, but if she had looked back, she would have seen a sleepy-eyed Harry come out of his room.
* * *
"She's hiding something," Hermione commented at breakfast. Harry looked up at her, surprised about her cold tone. "I know that's not her real name, and she's got some dark secret."
"Oh, Hermione, just leave it," Ron suggested, stuffing his mouth with some sausage. "You me an' Harry are hiding somethin' all th' time."
"Not that way," Hermione snapped irritably. "I think it has something to do, directly or indirectly, with Malfoy and Patil."
"But she was with us when it happened," Harry cut in.
"I know that," she protested. "But she's hiding something; and the way she avoids our questions... She makes me wonder..."
"You don't really know her," Harry said, raising his voice ever so slightly.
"And you do?" She asked, watching him with one eyebrow cocked. "No one does, Harry, and until someone does, I can't trust her."
"But what if she's innocent?"
"Then she has nothing to hide, and we can be friends." Hermione stood. "I'm going to the library to look up things."
"About her?" Harry asked, standing as well. "You could just ask her."
"I'd rather not." She walked away from him, leaving Ron and Harry staring at each other in confusion.
"Why does this keep getting more and more difficult?" Harry sighed.
"You like Erif, don't you?" Ron asked.
"Yeah, a little," Harry responded.
"Maybe Hermione doesn't want you to get hurt," Ron bridged.
"I can see things for myself, I don't need you two to be overprotective!" Harry snapped, putting his hands on the table and hanging his head in frustration.
"Maybe you do." Ron took another bite of his meal and sipped at his juice, then continued, "Some people, myself included, are blinded by someone that they like. Just remember that, Harry. Heads can be clouded by the mist of a female's perfume..."
"Yeah, I can agree." Harry remembered a time when the only person he thought of was Cho...
He noticed as he walked out of the Hall that Snape was watching him with his beady eyes. Harry wondered irritably if everyone knew more about Arlé than he did...
* * *
"Good, good. Just keep it steady for a few more moments… There, we're done now."
Erif collapsed into the chair, and accepted the potion that Summer handed her eagerly. "I didn't think that was very good," she confessed when she had finished drinking.
"It was better than the other times," Summer replied, nodding her head and smiling. "And Professor Dumbledore wanted me to push you today."
"Does it have anything to do with the events of yesterday?" She sighed.
"Yes, more than you know."
"Is the Ball still happening?"
"As far as I know, its' been postponed from this next weekend to two Saturdays from now, but yes."
"Good."
"Who are you going to go with?"
"Harry." Erif blushed a little.
"I like your choice of men, Arlé." Summer had decided that she wasn't going to call her Erif at all, which irritated her, but she let it slide.
"Yeah, but I don't know if he likes me. I'm just not ready to tell him about my past, and he won't accept no as an answer." Erif put the goblet down on the table and snuffed out the candle. "I'm hoping he asks me, I'd feel really stupid if I had to ask him..."
"You'll do just fine," Summer said, and opened the door to the corridor.
Erif walked toward the library with the purpose to get some books about Transfiguration, and had only just stepped within when she was confronted by Hermione.
"Hi, Hermione," she said, and her thought flew back to the first night she had ever seen her... There was something cold in her eyes as she watched her, something angry and malignant...
"So tell me," Hermione demanded, her voice as cold as her eyes, "Are you trying to play with Harry?"
"No! Why do you think that?"
"You're hiding your past, a lot of secrets... You've peaked his curiosity. You're toying with him..."
"I'm not trying to..."
Hermione put the book she was holding onto the table beside her with a loud thud and advanced on Erif, voice rising. "No one knows who you really are, and we all want to know. Why does your arm burn and glow? I only know of one thing that could make it do that, and usually people with it don't try and hide it, like nothing is wrong." Hermione glared, oblivious to the crowd of people she had gathered.
"You don't understand--"
"I would like to." Hermione backed up from her, still staring accusingly.
Erif looked down at the floor, wondering how much to explain to Hermione...
"Erif, explain to me."
"Okay, but not here." Erif looked around at the people staring, and was shocked to see Professor Bailey in their midst.
Hermione grabbed her bag and stuffed her books into it, and said, "Fine, let's go somewhere a little more private." She stormed out of the library, Erif on her heels, leaving the crowd to wonder and guess at what Erif would reveal to Hermione... Or if she would reveal anything at all.
* * *
Harry watched as his two friends stalked out of the library, wondering what had just occurred. He had only come in for the last half of the argument, and was not surprised when the crowd turned to him with curiosity.
He shook his head and left the library, hoping that this would settle in time for the Ball... So he could ask Arlé without Hermione breathing down his neck.
He entered his empty dormitory and was surprised to see Hedwig sitting impatiently on his bed. Hadn't he just sent her off yesterday? She hooted softly at him as he untied her letter, and waited to see if he would send her back with another one.
He tore it open, eager to read what Sirius had written.
It was not Sirius' handwriting... The flowing script was slightly hurried, the ends of words blending into the beginning of the next ones.
Dear Harry,
I'm glad to hear that you're worried about Snuffles, but I'm afraid I have bad news for you. He's not in his right mind; we're not sure what the Death Eaters have done to him, and we haven't been able to get a sensible word out of him yet. If you ask the Head Master first, you may be allowed to come with Bailey next visit... But he has changed.
I'll see you later, if time allows.
~Moony
Harry set his letter down on the bed, hardly believing this change of events. If Dumbledore had known that Sirius was as bad as Lupin claimed, why hadn't he said it?
He wondered if Sirius' capture and Malfoy's disappearance had something to do with each other...
"What's that, Harry?" Ron asked. Harry jumped, looking up at him.
"Do you remember what Dumbledore told me about Snuffles?"
Ron nodded.
"Well, I wrote to Snuffles, and this is the response I got." He held it out with trembling hands, and Ron took it gingerly. "He's with Lupin?" He asked softly.
"Yes. I don't know what to do about all this."
"You should go see him," Ron bridged when he finished reading it and handed it back.
"How would that help things?" Harry protested.
"I don't know, but that's all you can do to help him now," Ron said, running his hand through his Weasley-orange hair.
Harry nodded and grabbed a quill and some parchment.
Moony,
I don't know how much it would help him, but I'll go see if Head Master and tell him that I want to come. I don't know if he'll let me, but I'll ask anyway. Tell Snuffles I'm thinking of him.
~Harry
He sealed it and handed it to Hedwig, who blinked sleepily and set off again.
"Ron, Hermione caught up with Erif. They met up in the library."
Ron's eyes grew wide. "I've never seen Hermione so set against something since S.P.E.W. last year. But she's worried about you, and rightfully so, I think."
Harry glared at Ron, not believing what he ad just heard. "So now you're against me having a love life too?"
Ron's eyes hardened. "If you would stop being so pig-headed, you would see that someone with so many secrets like that isn't the one for you. You obviously didn't listen when I hinted at it at breakfast..."
"I don't care what you think about her," Harry cried in an out-of-character display of anger, but he had had enough with his friends debating within themselves. It was as if all his worries, fears, and emotions had bubbled to the surface, and he couldn't stop their flow into this outlet. "If she's got secrets that she doesn't want to show yet, fine. I've got secrets that I don't want to reveal."
"But you have reason to," Ron argued. "She's never done anything like you--stopped a Dark Lord's rise to power, escaped from his clutches several times..."
"At the risk of another's life," Harry spat, and continued, "And how do you know that she hasn't? She was the one in my dream, the one whose brother was killed by that Death Eater; or have you forgotten?"
"Surely you couldn't have remembered her from that dream? You just think that she's the one from the dream so you can justify your obsession with her!"
"You don't know what you're talking about, Ron," Harry responded, his voice cold and dangerous.
"When she turns you over to You-Know-Who, you'll know who your real friends are."
"Take that back," Harry spat.
"No!"
"I said, take it back!" Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at Ron.
Ron also pulled out his wand, glaring, and shouted, "Obrigenscha!"
At the same time, Harry shouted, "Expelliarmus!"
The beams narrowly missed each other; Harry flung up his arm to block the spell that Ron had cast. A searing coldness hit his arm, and his arm grew numb. His lifeless fingers loosened their grip on his wand, and it clattered to the floor, where it lay atop Ron's wand, which had been cast aside by Harry's spell.
Ron drew back from Harry, appalled at what he had done. "Harry, I..." he said, but Harry reached down, picking up his wand clumsily with his left, and kicked Ron's underneath the bed.
Without glancing at Ron's face, he stormed out of the dorm, out of the Common Room, out of the castle. A blast of balmy September wind flew past, cooling down his cheeks as he ran.
He tucked his wand into his back pocket and slumped to the ground near the lake, his tears his only companion beneath a large Weeping Willow.
He was so engrossed in his own feelings that he didn't realize when someone sat down beside him and lay her head on his right shoulder, which was still completely numb. After about five minutes, he realized that she was crying too, although a bit more quietly than he was.
Their soundless consolation of each other was exactly what Harry needed; he felt like a social outcast, spat upon and looked down at by everyone except the other social outcasts... Her tears streaked down his arm and he realized that he could feel her cheek on his arm. But the hex that Ron had cast was supposed to make his arm numb for the next ten hours, at least. Was it Ron's weakness at throwing a spell at his dearest friend? Or something else?
"Are you okay, Erif?" He asked softly, and was rewarded with her pair of emerald eyes, filled with tears, looking up at him with tender thanks.
"I don't know..." she sighed, looking away across the lake. He flexed his fingers and found that the bones still felt numb and cold, but he reached up and awkwardly wiped the tears from her cheek with them.
She shuddered under his touch, but did not pull away. She looked up at him again, this time her face was closer. "I explained some... things to Hermione that... I wish I hadn't... And she didn't believe me, so I... had to show her... Didn't want to..."
"I'll wait until you're ready, but I want to know."
"I know you do, but I... don't feel strong enough to tell you." She sniffed, and wiped her nose on her sleeve. He took off his glasses and wiped at his eyes, and as he was bending over to wipe them, she took his hand within her own. "Thank you for understanding... Do you want to tell me about it?"
"Maybe later. When you tell me about your life, I'll tell you all about mine." Her eyes were still filled with tears, and a lone tear trickled down her cheek once more. He moved to wipe it away, and as he did so, he pulled her into a kiss. His heart beat fast, but he knew that this felt right... To have her beside him, feeling her warmth.
And she didn't pull away, which was probably the best thing that had happened to him all day...
They parted finally, each set of green eyes looking deep into the other, trying to understand the other's thoughts and dreams...
"We should go back to the castle," Harry said grudgingly. As if to emphasize that thought, his stomach growled, and she giggled, breaking the romantic moment.
"I think my stomach is agreeing too," she murmured, and he helped her to her feet. They held hands for a long moment, and then she let go; her eyes sad once more.
They walked back up to the castle, Harry feeling sad that he had to leave that perfect world and take the long hike back to reality...
Erif woke early the next morning, her arm burning. She staggered out of bed and got dressed, and then left her dormitory with the intent of finding Professor Bailey. As she walked past the dying embers of the fire, the small flames seemed to reach toward her, but she ignored them as best she could.
She walked toward the Great Hall, her mind musing over the events of yesterday. Despite the long hours between Dumbledore's announcement of the events and Professor McGonagall's announcement that they could finally leave the Common Room at around six that night, all she could remember of that time was hiding, and waiting, and the vague sense that time was running short...
She could remember in detail the Sphere's premonition, and what she saw she didn't want to see ever again. If, as the Sphere seemed to suggest, she and Harry were intertwined by their fates, what more had he seen in the Time Globe of her secrets?
And why had You-Know-Who taken Draco? She could not even begin to guess at the Dark Lord's reasoning... The only idea she had was that Malfoy had fought the Dark Lord and Patil had been caught in the middle of it; and even that paled when she thought of how much it made sense. Draco seemed a heartless boy, intent on proving that he was better than everyone else.
She grabbed a piece of toast in the almost empty Hall; and with a nod to the brave duo from Hufflepuff sitting at their lonely table, she left in search of either Dumbledore or Bailey.
Walking through the halls alone had been a relief; she could be herself, and think about whatever came to mind, and not explain it to inquisitive minds and eyes. She rubbed her arm and glanced down at it; the mark was glowing as red as ever, and she covered it with her sleeve impatiently.
She walked past the Teacher's Lounge when she heard a familiar voice. She paused outside, and was about to open the door when the tone of voice made her pause.
"--And took Malfoy, why?" Summer was saying, her voice strained.
"I haven't quite figured that out, but I want to know how they got inside in the first place." Snape's cold dark voice responded back.
"And Patil wants to go home... which is very understandable, but can we allow her to under these circumstances?" McGonagall's sharp voice continued.
Dumbledore spoke next. "We cannot allow her to go home. Not yet, anyway. We are trying to establish a Gate of sorts--"
He was cut off by a collective gasp. Bailey recovered first, saying, "But how is that possible? If you break rules and regulations..."
"Dumbledore," Snape added, "You're already considered off the edge by the Minister of Magic. If you go against everything that he has established, you risk your job."
"At the very least," Summer stated.
"I know the risks, and I know that this must be done. It will only be a temporary one, and only the four of us and the Patils will need to know."
"But how will she get back here?"
"We shall have to ask her if she wants to stay at home over an extended period of time, until we can find a safer way to get there." With that settled, Dumbledore was ready to move onto other things. "Summer, how is Arlé coming along?"
Summer sighed before responding, "It's slow. She requires the potion to control it..."
"She was too young for this mark, this task..." Snape added.
"She will be able to control it, if we give her time."
"Time makes the best heroes..." Dumbledore stated. "Look at Potter."
"Although I hate to admit it, you are right," Snape sighed.
Erif backed away slowly, not wanting them to hear her. Thankfully, she was still wearing her socks, so she was able to sneak down the hall in silence. She went back to the Common Room where, an hour later, Bailey came to get her.
"Erif?" Bailey asked, and Erif jumped out of her trance.
She looked up, and Summer shook her head as they met eyes. "I think you've become too dependent on the potion. Follow me..."
They walked out of the Common Room together, but if she had looked back, she would have seen a sleepy-eyed Harry come out of his room.
* * *
"She's hiding something," Hermione commented at breakfast. Harry looked up at her, surprised about her cold tone. "I know that's not her real name, and she's got some dark secret."
"Oh, Hermione, just leave it," Ron suggested, stuffing his mouth with some sausage. "You me an' Harry are hiding somethin' all th' time."
"Not that way," Hermione snapped irritably. "I think it has something to do, directly or indirectly, with Malfoy and Patil."
"But she was with us when it happened," Harry cut in.
"I know that," she protested. "But she's hiding something; and the way she avoids our questions... She makes me wonder..."
"You don't really know her," Harry said, raising his voice ever so slightly.
"And you do?" She asked, watching him with one eyebrow cocked. "No one does, Harry, and until someone does, I can't trust her."
"But what if she's innocent?"
"Then she has nothing to hide, and we can be friends." Hermione stood. "I'm going to the library to look up things."
"About her?" Harry asked, standing as well. "You could just ask her."
"I'd rather not." She walked away from him, leaving Ron and Harry staring at each other in confusion.
"Why does this keep getting more and more difficult?" Harry sighed.
"You like Erif, don't you?" Ron asked.
"Yeah, a little," Harry responded.
"Maybe Hermione doesn't want you to get hurt," Ron bridged.
"I can see things for myself, I don't need you two to be overprotective!" Harry snapped, putting his hands on the table and hanging his head in frustration.
"Maybe you do." Ron took another bite of his meal and sipped at his juice, then continued, "Some people, myself included, are blinded by someone that they like. Just remember that, Harry. Heads can be clouded by the mist of a female's perfume..."
"Yeah, I can agree." Harry remembered a time when the only person he thought of was Cho...
He noticed as he walked out of the Hall that Snape was watching him with his beady eyes. Harry wondered irritably if everyone knew more about Arlé than he did...
* * *
"Good, good. Just keep it steady for a few more moments… There, we're done now."
Erif collapsed into the chair, and accepted the potion that Summer handed her eagerly. "I didn't think that was very good," she confessed when she had finished drinking.
"It was better than the other times," Summer replied, nodding her head and smiling. "And Professor Dumbledore wanted me to push you today."
"Does it have anything to do with the events of yesterday?" She sighed.
"Yes, more than you know."
"Is the Ball still happening?"
"As far as I know, its' been postponed from this next weekend to two Saturdays from now, but yes."
"Good."
"Who are you going to go with?"
"Harry." Erif blushed a little.
"I like your choice of men, Arlé." Summer had decided that she wasn't going to call her Erif at all, which irritated her, but she let it slide.
"Yeah, but I don't know if he likes me. I'm just not ready to tell him about my past, and he won't accept no as an answer." Erif put the goblet down on the table and snuffed out the candle. "I'm hoping he asks me, I'd feel really stupid if I had to ask him..."
"You'll do just fine," Summer said, and opened the door to the corridor.
Erif walked toward the library with the purpose to get some books about Transfiguration, and had only just stepped within when she was confronted by Hermione.
"Hi, Hermione," she said, and her thought flew back to the first night she had ever seen her... There was something cold in her eyes as she watched her, something angry and malignant...
"So tell me," Hermione demanded, her voice as cold as her eyes, "Are you trying to play with Harry?"
"No! Why do you think that?"
"You're hiding your past, a lot of secrets... You've peaked his curiosity. You're toying with him..."
"I'm not trying to..."
Hermione put the book she was holding onto the table beside her with a loud thud and advanced on Erif, voice rising. "No one knows who you really are, and we all want to know. Why does your arm burn and glow? I only know of one thing that could make it do that, and usually people with it don't try and hide it, like nothing is wrong." Hermione glared, oblivious to the crowd of people she had gathered.
"You don't understand--"
"I would like to." Hermione backed up from her, still staring accusingly.
Erif looked down at the floor, wondering how much to explain to Hermione...
"Erif, explain to me."
"Okay, but not here." Erif looked around at the people staring, and was shocked to see Professor Bailey in their midst.
Hermione grabbed her bag and stuffed her books into it, and said, "Fine, let's go somewhere a little more private." She stormed out of the library, Erif on her heels, leaving the crowd to wonder and guess at what Erif would reveal to Hermione... Or if she would reveal anything at all.
* * *
Harry watched as his two friends stalked out of the library, wondering what had just occurred. He had only come in for the last half of the argument, and was not surprised when the crowd turned to him with curiosity.
He shook his head and left the library, hoping that this would settle in time for the Ball... So he could ask Arlé without Hermione breathing down his neck.
He entered his empty dormitory and was surprised to see Hedwig sitting impatiently on his bed. Hadn't he just sent her off yesterday? She hooted softly at him as he untied her letter, and waited to see if he would send her back with another one.
He tore it open, eager to read what Sirius had written.
It was not Sirius' handwriting... The flowing script was slightly hurried, the ends of words blending into the beginning of the next ones.
Dear Harry,
I'm glad to hear that you're worried about Snuffles, but I'm afraid I have bad news for you. He's not in his right mind; we're not sure what the Death Eaters have done to him, and we haven't been able to get a sensible word out of him yet. If you ask the Head Master first, you may be allowed to come with Bailey next visit... But he has changed.
I'll see you later, if time allows.
~Moony
Harry set his letter down on the bed, hardly believing this change of events. If Dumbledore had known that Sirius was as bad as Lupin claimed, why hadn't he said it?
He wondered if Sirius' capture and Malfoy's disappearance had something to do with each other...
"What's that, Harry?" Ron asked. Harry jumped, looking up at him.
"Do you remember what Dumbledore told me about Snuffles?"
Ron nodded.
"Well, I wrote to Snuffles, and this is the response I got." He held it out with trembling hands, and Ron took it gingerly. "He's with Lupin?" He asked softly.
"Yes. I don't know what to do about all this."
"You should go see him," Ron bridged when he finished reading it and handed it back.
"How would that help things?" Harry protested.
"I don't know, but that's all you can do to help him now," Ron said, running his hand through his Weasley-orange hair.
Harry nodded and grabbed a quill and some parchment.
Moony,
I don't know how much it would help him, but I'll go see if Head Master and tell him that I want to come. I don't know if he'll let me, but I'll ask anyway. Tell Snuffles I'm thinking of him.
~Harry
He sealed it and handed it to Hedwig, who blinked sleepily and set off again.
"Ron, Hermione caught up with Erif. They met up in the library."
Ron's eyes grew wide. "I've never seen Hermione so set against something since S.P.E.W. last year. But she's worried about you, and rightfully so, I think."
Harry glared at Ron, not believing what he ad just heard. "So now you're against me having a love life too?"
Ron's eyes hardened. "If you would stop being so pig-headed, you would see that someone with so many secrets like that isn't the one for you. You obviously didn't listen when I hinted at it at breakfast..."
"I don't care what you think about her," Harry cried in an out-of-character display of anger, but he had had enough with his friends debating within themselves. It was as if all his worries, fears, and emotions had bubbled to the surface, and he couldn't stop their flow into this outlet. "If she's got secrets that she doesn't want to show yet, fine. I've got secrets that I don't want to reveal."
"But you have reason to," Ron argued. "She's never done anything like you--stopped a Dark Lord's rise to power, escaped from his clutches several times..."
"At the risk of another's life," Harry spat, and continued, "And how do you know that she hasn't? She was the one in my dream, the one whose brother was killed by that Death Eater; or have you forgotten?"
"Surely you couldn't have remembered her from that dream? You just think that she's the one from the dream so you can justify your obsession with her!"
"You don't know what you're talking about, Ron," Harry responded, his voice cold and dangerous.
"When she turns you over to You-Know-Who, you'll know who your real friends are."
"Take that back," Harry spat.
"No!"
"I said, take it back!" Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at Ron.
Ron also pulled out his wand, glaring, and shouted, "Obrigenscha!"
At the same time, Harry shouted, "Expelliarmus!"
The beams narrowly missed each other; Harry flung up his arm to block the spell that Ron had cast. A searing coldness hit his arm, and his arm grew numb. His lifeless fingers loosened their grip on his wand, and it clattered to the floor, where it lay atop Ron's wand, which had been cast aside by Harry's spell.
Ron drew back from Harry, appalled at what he had done. "Harry, I..." he said, but Harry reached down, picking up his wand clumsily with his left, and kicked Ron's underneath the bed.
Without glancing at Ron's face, he stormed out of the dorm, out of the Common Room, out of the castle. A blast of balmy September wind flew past, cooling down his cheeks as he ran.
He tucked his wand into his back pocket and slumped to the ground near the lake, his tears his only companion beneath a large Weeping Willow.
He was so engrossed in his own feelings that he didn't realize when someone sat down beside him and lay her head on his right shoulder, which was still completely numb. After about five minutes, he realized that she was crying too, although a bit more quietly than he was.
Their soundless consolation of each other was exactly what Harry needed; he felt like a social outcast, spat upon and looked down at by everyone except the other social outcasts... Her tears streaked down his arm and he realized that he could feel her cheek on his arm. But the hex that Ron had cast was supposed to make his arm numb for the next ten hours, at least. Was it Ron's weakness at throwing a spell at his dearest friend? Or something else?
"Are you okay, Erif?" He asked softly, and was rewarded with her pair of emerald eyes, filled with tears, looking up at him with tender thanks.
"I don't know..." she sighed, looking away across the lake. He flexed his fingers and found that the bones still felt numb and cold, but he reached up and awkwardly wiped the tears from her cheek with them.
She shuddered under his touch, but did not pull away. She looked up at him again, this time her face was closer. "I explained some... things to Hermione that... I wish I hadn't... And she didn't believe me, so I... had to show her... Didn't want to..."
"I'll wait until you're ready, but I want to know."
"I know you do, but I... don't feel strong enough to tell you." She sniffed, and wiped her nose on her sleeve. He took off his glasses and wiped at his eyes, and as he was bending over to wipe them, she took his hand within her own. "Thank you for understanding... Do you want to tell me about it?"
"Maybe later. When you tell me about your life, I'll tell you all about mine." Her eyes were still filled with tears, and a lone tear trickled down her cheek once more. He moved to wipe it away, and as he did so, he pulled her into a kiss. His heart beat fast, but he knew that this felt right... To have her beside him, feeling her warmth.
And she didn't pull away, which was probably the best thing that had happened to him all day...
They parted finally, each set of green eyes looking deep into the other, trying to understand the other's thoughts and dreams...
"We should go back to the castle," Harry said grudgingly. As if to emphasize that thought, his stomach growled, and she giggled, breaking the romantic moment.
"I think my stomach is agreeing too," she murmured, and he helped her to her feet. They held hands for a long moment, and then she let go; her eyes sad once more.
They walked back up to the castle, Harry feeling sad that he had to leave that perfect world and take the long hike back to reality...