Chapter 10: Slipping
Author's Note: Okay, and now that the wonderful Christmas holidays are here, I can put another chapter up! And then, the spectacular studying for mid terms must begin, so I'll try to keep writing more anyways. Anyways, in this chapter, I, er, well you'll see. Please don't hate me. Actually, I'd just be happy if you felt some emotion at all. Don't be apathetic, please.
I use some Russian in this chapter. If you're Russian, and speak the language, I want to apologize in advance for it. I honestly tried very, very hard to get it right. I had to translate English to Russian, then transliterate Russian, and I think there may have been a few mistakes in the last step. So, don't hate me or track me down and kill me or something for mutilating your language, because I didn't mean to.
Dedication: I want to dedicate this to everyone who really made me feel fantastic the other day. *smiles hugely* Well, a while ago actually. This is to Nezumi-chan, BookSmartBrilliance, Gillian, "anonymous author," Julia Griever, and wmlaw. Muchos gracios J
Disclaimer: Did you know that J. K. Rowling is married? I, on the other hand, am not. Feel free to draw assumptions.
Losing my heart
Losing my pride
I'd burn my initials in the sun if it would shine
I need a fresh start
I was in heaven until this one fell apart
Out on the run
Out on this empty space since all of this begun
I try
I try….
And nothing seems to help
And nothing seems to work
And nothing isn't beautiful
I'm old enough to take all the blame for all of us
There's all the games and all the faces
I'm bleeding by myself and I'm okay…
-Our Lady Peace, "Sell my Soul"
Ron threw his books down upon the table.
"Weekend."
Harry let out a half hearted cheer.
"The entire week of tests that our teachers conspired to put upon us is over."
Hermione sighed. "And I really think that I missed that question on the Potions test, I was there and it just sort of went blank. And then the instant I handed it in, I remembered it."
"One question out of what, 10 tests?"
Coughing, Hermione looked away.
"Right." Harry turned from the messy pile of papers and notes in front of him.
"There's a party on tonight in the Common Room."
Ron looked up, then went back to staring at the ceiling with a fatalistic expression on his face. "And I suppose there's not way any of us can avoid being there and drinking far too many Butterbeers?"
"Now that is entirely your decision, Ron. You can't just say that you were forced or something –"
Staring at Hermione with tragedy scrawled upon him, Harry spoke. "You've obviously never been to one of these parties, Hermione."
"What about McGonagall?"
"Dean said she's gone to visit her sister in Scotland."
"We are in Scotland, Harry."
"Well, somewhere else in Scotland."
*
"You been to one of these before, Ron?"
Ron looked at his girlfriend. "What, haven't you?"
Hermione made an impertinent face. "Well, I'm not really the type to party it long and hard every night, wouldn't you say?"
Ron laughed, and put his arm around her waist. "Actually, yes. The instant I saw you, I thought, there goes one of those people who never studies and shirks their duties."
"I was afraid of that." Hermione looked suddenly very nervous.
"You will tell me if I do something spectacularly socially inappropriate, right?"
Ron looked into her worried face. "Hermione, just dazzle them with your beauty."
A shy smile crept across her face. "No, seriously."
"Seriously? They'll all be too drunk to notice."
Throwing up her hands in the air, Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well that's even better. Why am I going again?"
"Because I want to show you off."
"Stop it, or I'll hit you."
"Alright."
*
When they ventured downstairs to the Common Room, they found much what they expected. Dean and Seamus were hovering over two barrels of Butterbeer with very proud, parental looks on their faces. The rest of Gryffindor were doing what one usually did at a party. There were, however some surprises; Cho Chang was there, at which point both Ron and Hermione turned amusedly to Harry, who, funnily enough, had found something very interesting at the other end of the room. Some Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had arrived as well, along with a few Slytherins, and the new exchange student from Durmstrang.
The new exchange student was someone who most of the school had been talking about for weeks. It seemed like overnight she had turned into a darker version of Fleur Delacour. Justin Finch-Fletchley had told them all with a far away look that she had a handmirror that had belonged to her great-aunt, and as she had told them, "with smoldering eyes," she was a beautiful creature who had started a rebellion in her native land of Russia, wreaking havoc until she was apprehended. After that first recounting by Justin, Irina had begun telling anyone who would listen, which was most of the male population of Hogwarts.
"And they cut off her head," she would say, flipping her purple-black tresses and glaring out at her audience with eyes of coal. She spoke with a slight Russian accent, one that was only made evident when she was very upset. It added to her allure. "Varvara the Perilous, who was from the famous family of the Kovalenko. The blood of the Prekrasniitsii Smermepbnii runs through our veins, and mine also." Here she would brandish her wrist at her attentive audiences, gesturing her violet veins for all to see. "They were very, very beautiful, and men would die to look at them."
The first time she heard this, Hermione snorted. "Of course. And naturally, you are also the child in whom the most of this blood has emerged again, am I right?"
Irina had turned her head to stare coldly at Hermione and her companions. Her shadowy eyes had flitted from Hermione to Ron very quickly. Then she had laughed, a very foreign sounding laugh, and said: "Glupaya suka. I would be afraid if I were you."
Harry, Ron and Hermione had stood there for a moment. Then all three of them had simultaneously burst out into uncontrollable, side-bursting laughter, amidst teary eyes and strained emissions of "Oh, I'm really scared" and "Afraid? Afraid?" Irina had put her back to them disgustedly, and resumed her story to her admirers. The friends had left, still chuckling, to practice some Quidditch.
Now, it looked like Irina did not have anyone to storytell with. She was standing all alone, drinking from a crudely fashioned mug what didn't look like Butterbeer, actually rather like water. She smiled as they entered, a sinuous smile that reminded Ron of a snake. Her eyes had two white dots in the middle of the pitch black irises. Although Ron was loyal to Hermione, and believed her the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on, Irina had a captivating and sultry beauty. Clad in her usual black and tight-fitting clothes, Ron would have been attracted to her had it not been for Hermione, and that he knew that she had a personality as lovely as her outer form. Irina might be at the other spectrum of her in appearance, dark to light, but Hermione in herself was the real treasure.
Dean and Seamus, the organizers of the celebration, came up behind Harry and Ron.
"Glad you could come."
"Have a little fun, hey?"
"There's Butterbeer in the barrels, but don't feel limited. Irina brought some vodka, and I think that someone got some Scotch in here."
Harry grinned. "Whiskey, eh? What, are you Scottish or something Seamus?"
Seamus made a mock face of outrage. "Me? Part of those measly and tight-fisted eejits? I think not! Don't ye know an Irishman when ye see one?"
"What, all those years I was wrong? Shocking, Seamus. Now, where's the entertainment in this thing –"
Harry went off with Dean and Seamus, leaving Ron and Hermione standing at the entrance. Hermione stood there normally, but only Ron could see that she was tense in her back and shoulders.
"Oy, calm down! Let's go get a drink."
Predictably, Hermione didn't get a drink. She had a glass of water that she went upstairs to her room to get. Ron, however, rather enjoyed the huge barrels of Butterbeer.
Perhaps a little too much, actually.
Two hours later, everyone was having a thoroughly good time. If a good time is to be measured in amounts of alcohol consumed, Hermione was one of the only ones not having one. And then someone had the very odd idea of playing Truth or Dare.
They sat down in a circle that really actually wasn't a circle because none of them were very good at doing that at the moment.
Dean called out in a voice probably louder than what was necessary, "Alright! Who's first?"
Justin leaped up, swaying just a little. "Me!"
Hermione chortled, and Ron and Harry guffawed. Justin was beet red, and had an earnest, if somewhat intoxicated, ardor in his eyes.
"Irina, I dare you….to kiss me."
The entire room fell over laughing. Irina laughed very slowly, then sauntered over to Justin much more steadily than someone should who had been drinking straight vodka all night, and laid her blood-red lips on his. Justin's blue eyes were astonished and very happy, until he cried out. Irina stepped away with a smirk, and the students saw a trail of bright red slither down from his mouth. He let out a gurgled cry and ran to the toilets. The room was silent.
"Right!" shouted Seamus, waving his mug. "Now that we all know not to make a move on Irina, who wants to go?"
Hannah Abbot spoke up very cheerily. "Irina should go. Irina?"
"I will go later."
Nobody opposed that, because Ernie MacMillan volunteered.
"Blaise, what was –hic- Parvati really like –hic- when you and her –"
At this point Ernie passed out, which was just as well because nobody wanted to know what Parvati and Blaise, the hulking Slytherin Quidditch player, had done. Harry actually whispered rather loudly to Ron that it was like an act of God. Hannah and Susan dragged him out, during which he lurched unpleasantly.
This was all impossibly amusing to Ron. In fact, just about everything was amusing to him right now. Not only that, but he was rather upset with Hermione. She was being so stuffy! She didn't find anything funny at all. But that didn't matter, because she was so pretty, and everyone was so witty, and Irina was so intriguing.
A great deal of the rest of the game went by unnoticed by Ron, although he laughed whole-heartedly at everything that happened. He was finally stirred out of his perhaps drunken half sleep when Irina spoke very loudly.
"Ron Weasley."
Hermione, beside him, twitched a little, and nudged Ron so that he was partially lucid.
She was actually right in front of him, which was why she had spoken so loudly. Her face was mere inches from his. This partially called up a submerged memory, hadn't he done this before with someone else? But it sank again, and he forgot it.
"I dare you. To kiss me."
Ron wasn't actually sure what the hell he was doing. It was somewhat similar to what he had felt with Fleur, although obviously, as he realized later, not as potent because Irina's blood was much more diluted than the part Veela of fourth year. But her eyes were suddenly very, very enticing.
As he leaned in, there was a voice in the back of his mind screaming No No No No No No No! Don't do it you fool! But by the time that had actually reached his control, and he had realized just why he shouldn't kiss this Durmstrang student, because Hermione was his girlfriend and she was the love of his life and she loved him too, it was far too late.
He didn't really enjoy it, because all that was running through his beer-laced brain was that Hermione, he had lost Hermione. But it took him a while to pull away. Irina's kiss was different from Hermione's. Hermione's were tender, they had real emotion, they spoke to and from the heart.
But Irina's had only a grabbing and hungry need, with no feeling behind it, only a hurtful and fierce plundering.
When he pulled away, too, too late, he knew that there would be no second chances. Hermione's eyes were more liquid than he had ever seen them before, and there was a glistening track down one of her cheeks.
"Hermione, I'm sorry," he said, much slower than he meant to, as if he couldn't quite get the words out. There was a quick and abrupt sound that resounded in the quiet room, and he didn't realize at first that it had been her hand hitting his face with all the hurt rage within her frame.
She spun, and as she did, Irina chuckled. "Mestb sladka," she said, and, still laughing, went back to her seat. Hermione ran from her spot, and Ginny ran after her.
Ron had just gotten up to run after her, he was sorry, so sorry, he didn't mean it, didn't mean to, he loved her, please forgive him, there was a knock on the door. Not, of course, that there was any need for the knock because immediately after it Snape came bursting in, and Ron knew that they were all in very, very deep trouble.
Glossary:
Prekrasniitsii Smermepbnii – meant to be a sort of Russian Veela. It means Beautiful and Deadly
Glupaya suka – Silly *insert appropriate profanity here, I want to keep this G*
Mestb sladka – Revenge is sweet (predictable I know, but whatever)
