A/N: Hi!!!! If you guys are still reading this….wooooow, I am sooo amazed at your dedication, I'm not worthy!!!!! It's been more than a year I've been working on this fic, woooow, how amazing!!! I think it might be half as long as the actual book coming up, lol.
Anyways, I don't think I've ever been this delayed for updating, but I just wanted to finish with all my exams and 20 page term papers, and I also updated my other fic during this past month, but now I'm all finished with school!!!! (Does finished with school dance). I will try and try to get updates up faster (although the more I do it seems the more delayed I get lol)
To a Very Interested Reader: You never fail to bring up good points. I just thought Dumbledore would want to be more cautious this time around and close the school early before anything happens. He'll explain more in this chapter. You'll see if his caution is worthwhile in future chappies…..Thanks for reading and keeping this fic alive!!!
Potterlover: SORRY SORRY for making you wait so long, thanks for being so impatiently patient (if that even makes sense). Here's your updates, and I'm flattered u think my fic is better than others u've read. You get a few questions answered in this one, finally!! I'll try to update quicker, especially for you. If you want, u could leave ur own email so u wont have to bug ur sister to find out when updates come. Thank u sooo much for reading!!! I hope u still do!
Chapter Twenty Eight: Flying and DyingRon had been lying down, slumped in his bed for quite some time now. After arguing with Hermione, he had to go be alone somewhere to calm his nerves. He had cooled down somewhat, but his brooding and anger gave him a headache; he was just as angry as before, only now he was containing it more. The thought of Hermione even coming near….him…made him nauseous and furious at the same time. Then he felt a wave of guilt—maybe there had been a good explanation, maybe she was completely innocent and he, being the insensitive git with the explosive temper he always had, did not give her a chance to defend herself; he felt a surge of fear—"I'm such an idiot, what if I lose her because of that?" Then, the inner, nasty voice said to him, "Well what if she was cheating on you, mate?" What made him feel worse of all was that even if that was true, he still did not know what he would do without her.
I need some bloody sleep, he said to himself wearily. He covered his eyes with one of his arms and forced himself to get some rest. While he was slowly falling into that flowing, murky area that occurs right before sleep, strange, disturbing visions filled his head. But it wasn't Hermione he saw—it was Harry, and he seemed to be doubled over, his robes darkened and stained…with blood, he horribly realized. He saw the swish of a black, shiny cloak, and he heard screaming—his own voice howling in grief.
He opened his eyes, a cold sweat beading on his forehead. The loud bang of the door opening made him even more startled. It was Seamus and Dean, looking frustrated yet excited, and of course, making a substantial amount of noise. Ron laid back and squeezed his eyes shut—his headache was getting worse.
"What's wrong, mate?" Dean asked. "The entire year is in an uproar, and you're here dozing off." He groaned.
"You don't look too good, Ron. You're all pale and your eyes are bloodshot," Seamus said worriedly. Ron mumbled something about not needing to worry about him.
"What do you mean, the entire school is in an uproar?" he asked, getting up.
"You don't know?" Dean said, his eyes wide.
"Hermione just announced that Dumbledore moved the Graduation Ball to tomorrow. And he wants the entire school in the Great Hall in about half an hour. She said he's got something important to announce," Seamus explained.
"You think he might close the school?" Dean asked Seamus.
"Close the school? He can't do that," Ron said.
"Why else would he move up the Ball so soon? With all that stuff with the dementors surrounding the school, I bet swarms of parents have been complaining," Dean said.
Seamus had been rummaging around his trunk and got up exasperatedly. "Hey Dean, can I borrow a pair of your socks for tomorrow?"
"Socks? The bloody school may be going down under!" Dean said.
"Well the you'd might as well end it all while looking good," Seamus winked.
"That sounds like something that pretty boy Malfoy would say," Dean said bitterly.
"Don't mention that prick's name in front of me," Ron growled.
"What happened?"
He shook his head and put one hand over his face. "Never mind."
"Hey Ron, so who're you taking to the Ball, then?" Seamus asked.
"Don't be a prat. He's taking Hermione of course," Dean said.
Ron looked crestfallen. "I don't think she'd want to even see my face right now, let alone go to a Ball with me."
"What happened?" Seamus asked, echoing Dean's question from before.
"We just had a little quarrel, that's all," he waved it off.
"Does this have anything to do with Malfoy?" Dean asked slyly, raising an eyebrow.
"No."
"Get off it, Dean. She's probably mad at him because he snogged Eve in front of the whole class."
"I did not-"
"No, this has something to do with Malfoy." Dean said, furrowing his brows. "All the prefects were running around everywhere, and he was nowhere to be found, and he's Head Boy."
"You didn't beat the shit out of him again, did you?" Seamus said, smiling.
"No, but I'm about to," he grumbled.
Dean was still thinking. "I got it! To get back at you for smarming up to his girlfriend, he started hitting on yours, and you got really angry at Hermione, and you hate him even more!" Dean announced with a tone as if he just discovered electricity.
"Brilliant theory Dean, but it's completely mad," Ron said.
"Yeah, Malfoy would never do that. Hermione's parents are Muggles. He wouldn't touch her with a yardstick, unless it would be to smack her with it or something," Seamus said.
"You're right—it's a mad idea. Besides, Hermione would catch on to him in a second. She hates that evil little git. She's way to smart to fall for him." Dean said.
"I dunno. She likes Ron here, which kind of makes me question her judgment," Seamus winked. Ron jumped on him, causing the floor to shake. But then he got a look outside when he saw the window, and his jaw dropped. Seamus, expecting that he'd be blocked, threw a punch at him, knocking him over. He got up, rubbed his temple, but still stared out the window.
"Hey, what's up with you?" he asked.
"It's snowing blue snow," Ron gaped.
"Yeah, didn't you know that either?" Seamus asked, irritated.
Ron slightly smiled. "Harry said a few years back that one day he'd make blue snow. Looks like I owe him 15 Galleons."
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"What's wrong, Professor? Am I going to die or something?" Draco asked idly. Even in striped hospital pajamas (which were slightly small on him), he managed to look nonchalant, elegant, and unruffled.
"The problem is, Mister Malfoy, that you're not already dead yet," Snape said, just as calmly.
"What?"
"You still have your wand with you, I presume?"
Draco nodded and pulled it out of the drawer next to him.
"Alright, we'll try something simple. Levitate that bottle on that desk over there," Snape said.
Wondering what on Earth this had to do with anything, and if Snape had suddenly gone daft, he swished and flicked his wand, saying, "Wingardium Leviosa!" The bottle did not move. He blinked, then examined his wand, hitting it against the palm of his hand, trying to make a few sparks come out. Nothing happened.
"Must be broken or something," he muttered.
Snape walked over to him and solemnly took his wand. He made the bottle float effortlessly. It landed calmly on the desk. "No, there's nothing wrong with your wand, Malfoy."
"You mean I did something wrong? I've been able to do that spell since my first year."
"Precisely. There's something very wrong with you."
"You mean I've lost my magical powers or something? That's insane." He angrily got up, snatched his wand back, and furiously yelled out spell after spell. Nothing happened. He looked at Snape. "What does this mean, Professor?" For the first time, Snape saw Draco Malfoy look a bit worried.
"The potion you drank had traces of a very advanced Dark potion that deprives the victim of all magical ability."
"For how long?"
"Usually the victim doesn't live very long to be able to tell," Snape said grimly.
"What do you mean?"
"A witch or wizard's magical powers are so connected with their life forces, usually the two are inseparable. You weaken a wizard's magical power, you weaken them physically. You take it completely away, they die within a day."
"But…how come--"
"My theory as to why you're still standing before me, Mr. Malfoy, is that perhaps part of your magical abilities may come partly from an outside source. And since that source still exists, so do you."
"An outside source?" Draco asked incredulously. "Are you sure? What could that be?"
"It's the only plausible explanation Dumbledore or I could think of. Do you have any sort of special magical connection with another witch or wizard? Your parents…a friend….a lover?" he said the last one reluctantly.
"I don't think so, Professor," he said shaking his head.
"Perhaps your father has some sort of trinket he can control your magic with? You know, something containing a lock of your hair, or a fingernail, or something you cherish?"
Ha, he's killed everything I cherish, Draco thought. "I doubt it, Professor. Then again, if he has anything like that, he might not tell me about it, right?"
Snape shrugged. "Whatever it is, it's keeping you alive. If you have any ideas as to what it might be, please let me know. It might help me with finding an antidote," he said as he began to walk out the door.
"Wait! So now what? If you can't find one, does that mean I'm supposed to live like a…a…squib for the rest of my life?"
"Well then all I can suggest is for you to find your outside source and try to make its connection with you stronger. Perhaps you may even find more than one." He paused, then turned around again. "Oh yes. Dumbledore needs to see you. I hope you're still strong enough to fulfill your duties as Head Boy." He left the room, his robe swishing around his ankles, leaving Draco very thoughtful. He got dressed, but something sharp poked him in the side. He put his hand in his pocket and took out an old silver dagger, with two serpents swirling around an 'M.' He took it everywhere he went, sometimes shrunk down to keep it safer. He smiled at it, but then looked strangely even more despondent.
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Harry and Eve walked into the castle, hand in hand, and saw loads of students crowding into the Great Hall. Curious, they went along with the crowd.
"Who should I sit with?" Eve asked curiously. She knew the Slytherins were still mad at her, yet the Gryffindors weren't too crazy about her either. But Harry had already steered her toward the Gryffindor table. She shot a look at the Sytherins to see Draco's reaction, but he wasn't there. Lavender and Parvati stared without any pretense of being discreet, but most of the students were gossiping about who would be taking who to the Ball, what they would wear, what Dumbledore was going to say to the whole school. Eve squirmed uncomfortably, despite a reassuring smile from Harry. Ron sat next to them, with Seamus and Dean following him, gaping and winking at Harry.
"What's going on? Where's Hermione?" Harry asked Ron. When first seeing him, he froze for an instant, but then explained everything, although avoided the subject of Hermione. Eve saw her whispering something to Dumbledore, and also noticed that Ron seemed to be purposely avoiding looking at her.
The whispering halted as soon as Dumbledore gravely stood up. He didn't say anything immediately, and everybody waited with bated breath in an expectant silence.
"You are all wondering what unusual circumstances have forced me to call you all here. The Minister of Magic has been murdered. " He stopped. Instantly the murmuring began. "I regret to say," he looked downward, but continued, "that Hogwarts School will have to close until we can assure the complete safety of our students. Owls have already been sent to your parents."
A burst of murmuring almost drowned him out. He held out a hand, and the roar went down. "Unfortunately, at the moment, we are unable to do that. The Ministry right now does not have any strong leadership, and already many positions have been taken over by those inclined to the Dark Side, which is steadily gaining power. Having so many children of wizards in one place endangers everyone at the school. The last time the school was in similar danger, more than fifty years ago, the Headmaster waited too long to close it, and a student died. And just three years ago, another student died because we were not wary enough and continued the Triwizard Tournament. I will not repeat the mistakes of the past. Therefore I will give you all one day to get ready, and the train will be arriving to take you home the day after tomorrow. Seventh years, as you already know, your Ball will take place tomorrow. For the safety of all of us, I recommend that too many students not gather in one place at one time after right now. Therefore, different years will eat at different times tomorrow, and classes will be arranged accordingly. And before I dismiss you all, I advise you all to act with extreme caution and discretion." He sat down and allowed the students to all whisper, gossip, and murmur as much as they liked as they filed out the Great Hall. Harry, however, stayed behind and Eve stayed with him.
"He can't close the school!" He said, his eyes widened.
"Why not? I think he's doing the right thing," Eve said.
"But where will I go?" Harry demanded.
"Well, where do you always go during summer holidays?"
Harry looked at her. "I live with my Muggle relatives, and they're horrible. They despised me, but not as much as I despise them."
"Maybe Dumbledore will let you stay with Sirius," Ron offered.
"No, he'll want me protected, and I can't be more safe than when I'm with relatives. Some sort of magical protection Dumbledore has, or something."
"The same spell he used with me and my mother," Eve muttered.
"Really?" Harry asked.
She nodded. "But you know of course that my father figured out a way to get past that. So you're not even safe with your relatives, Harry."
He couldn't decide whether this was horrible or not. "I guess I am staying with Sirius then."
"Maybe Dumbledore will ask you to stay with him," Ron said.
"Or you could stay with me," Eve smiled.
Harry gaped. "Oh, I totally forgot. Where will you stay?"
Her smiled widened, and she took out a piece of parchment from her pocket. "Looks like I'm the heir to the Pendragon Castle. The same castle where Arthur himself lived."
"What?" Ron said.
"My mother was not only part of the oldest wizarding family in England, she was also part of the richest. Second only to the Malfoys, of course."
"You're kidding!" Ron said, amazed, looking at the parchment.
She leaned over to Harry and said tenderly, "If anyone can protect you, it's me, Harry."
Harry sighed. "But won't that be the first place he'll go? To find you?"
"Of course he will—that is, if he knew where it was. It's impossible to find on the maps." she was extremely happy as she said this.
"Doesn't matter—Hermione once told me that it is possible for really powerful wizards to find someplace that is Unplottable," Harry said. Ron looked uncomfortable. Just reminding himself of Hermione was painful for him.
"Well this place is Unplottable because its location on the maps keeps jumping. Its never in the same exact place twice—keeps it safe from Muggles, and also makes them think King Arthur was always a myth, cause there's no physical proof of him anywhere. And its exact location at any point in time is safely guarder. My mother, as heir, only knows of it, and had also made Dumbledore her Secret-Keeper of that information."
"Kinda like what your parents tried to do, Harry," Ron said.
"Sounds alright, but we'll have to ask Dumbledore first," Harry said.
"Have to ask me what?" a familiar old voice made them turn. Sure enough, it was Dumbledore, and although his voice was pleasant and reassuring, they could tell it was only to falsely keep them all from worrying. The twinkle in his eye had faded due to worry and fatigue; his age was slowly taking its toll.
"Er, Harry and I were wondering where we are to go once the school is closed—for our safety, of course, Sir," Eve said.
"Isn't there anything you can do? You can't close the school! Doesn't that mean Voldemort's already won, in a way?" Harry exclaimed. Ron slightly flinched with the mention of the Dark Lord's name, but Dumbledore answered him calmly.
"The Dark Lord has not won yet—not as long as I am still here to work against him and there are others still with me. And closing this school is a way to prevent him from gaining further control than he already has, not to demonstrate his powerful influence, although it unfortunately does both. Not to cause too much panic, I decided not to tell anyone that due to my sources of intelligence, there are rumors of direct threats to the school in a very short time, and so I have decided to close it as soon as reasonably possible. I am sorry, Harry, but this is nothing I can do. I cannot risk the lives of those students which is in my duty to protect. Please understand this, Harry. As for where you are to stay, I am still undecided on that. The house of the Dursleys, once safe for you, has become more precarious. The Pendragon Castle will be one of the first places the Dark Lord will try to seek out—and therefore he will most likely try to seek me out as well, so you aren't even completely safe with me, Harry. But I am still considering the castle, away from me, possibly with Sirius and/or Lupin there to protect you. I am not even sure having both you and Eve at the same place is even a good idea, Harry."
As the three of them were listening to this, their faces became even more and more sober. Hermione had been listening behind Dumbledore's back, avoiding them. Eve had found this quite strange, and a quick search of her mind told her why. She had more important things to figure out—like how to have the one boy she loved more than anyone near her after the day after tomorrow. She didn't want him out of her sight—not only because she enjoyed looking at him, of course, he way very easy on the eyes, she mused,—but also she felt he could never fully be protected unless she were there. This was quite silly, she admitted—he had managed to protect himself from her father without her for many years, but she felt the threat was greater than ever before. She saw that Harry also wasn't too crazy about Dumbledore's last remark, either. He had furrowed his brow in disagreement, creating a line between his eyebrows. She wondered how many years it would take for that line between his brows to take a permanent place on his face. One of the things she loved about him (one out of many) was how intense he could look at times, much more mature and fervent than anybody else his age; he had the ability to go deep in concentration, to think about things, to worry about things that he was too young to have to worry about. Others would have turned bitter, or insane, or would have run away from it all; he accepted it and endured it as a testimony to his unbreakable will and spirit. And she loved that about him.
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It was late at night; Hermione was immersed in an extremely thick volume on advanced potions—she wouldn't put it past Snape to give them a surprise test on the last day of school; most other students didn't share her enthusiasm for studying, though. They were either joyously happy that school was finishing or extremely sad that they would be leaving their second homes—too sad to study. Hermione had come to her room late: she was helping the teachers with plans for the Ball and just trying to help Dumbledore and the other teachers as much as possible. Eve and Harry had also helped—Ron was conspicuously absent—he mentioned something about going off and helping Hagrid pack up ( after the school finished, he would be off visiting Madame Maxime in their last ditch efforts to help keep the Giants from helping Voldemort). Thinking he might not see her again for a long time once the school closed, Harry stayed with Eve. When the two girls finally reached their room, Hermione threw herself at her books, leaving Eve to brood near a windowsill alone. She stared outside, at the trees, looking deep into the forest—where she had seen her mother in her dream, and where she had last seen her father. She wondered what he was doing at that very moment, what he had in store for the amazing boy she had been flying with some hours earlier. She wanted to shake off all these thoughts, so she spoke to Hermione, although she didn't look at her.
"Why are you studying? Get some rest, you look dreadful."
"Snape will give us a test tomorrow—I know it."
"Trust me, you don't need to study."
"Unlike you, Eve, yes I do."
Eve rolled her eyes, walked over to her, and snapped the book shut, right in her face. "Hey!" she said. Eve smiled, but she was angry. "You know you should be nicer to me if you want to stay here."
"I am about to be very nice to you. Snape asked me to save him some time and prepare a pop quiz for you tomorrow. It's on Polyjuice Potion, and you've known how to brew that for years. I decided to be lenient to everyone and give them something they've gone over last year. SO you definitely don't need to study."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive." She smiled and went back to the windowsill.
Hermione stayed in her seat for a while, shrugged, and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth; she needed some sleep.
"What are you going to wear tomorrow for the Ball?" Eve called to her from her seat.
Eve heard her spitting and the water running. She poked her head through the door.
"I won't…I don't think I'll be going," she said timidly.
"What?" Eve exclaimed as she got out her seat, but Hermione locked the door shut purposely so she wouldn't come inside. She waited in front of the door with her arms crossed. Finally Hermione came out, wearing her pajamas and an evasive expression.
"Why aren't you coming? You helped plan it all!" Hermione was silent. Eve examined her. "You had a fight with Ron, didn't you?"
"No, I didn't."
"It was about Draco, wasn't it?"
Hermione opened her mouth, then became angry again. "You're reading my mind, aren't you? I hate it when you do that. Do you realize how impolite and…and…invasive it is?"
"Sorry. I was just curious."
Hermione's anger suddenly blew over. "Wait…You told Ron I had gone to see Draco, didn't you? I was thinking about it when you came in to see Snape at Lupin's office."
"Er…well not exactly…" she lied, although not persuasively.
"It was you, wasn't it? I can't believe it! What did I ever do to you?"
"Listen, alright, I wasn't thinking straight at the time. I had just been nearly attacked by a werewolf, I almost nearly killed him, so I wasn't feeling so dandy, alright? Plus I was so taken with Harry at the time, and so worried over Draco, all at once, that when Ron came and asked where you were, that Dumbledore said it was an emergency, it just slipped out."
"You nearly killed Lupin? How?"
"I don't know. And I don't know what stopped me. If it helps at all, I'm sorry." She looked downward. "So you're not going to the Ball, because you had a spat with your boyfriend?"
"Yes. And it was more than a spat. He hates me. He thinks I'm completely cheating on him with his worst enemy."
Eve raised an eyebrow. "Well, are you?"
"Why don't you just read my mind and find out?" she cried, raising her arms.
"Well, you said you don't like it, so I won't. Besides, I want you to tell me yourself. Are you cheating on Ron?"
"No. I would never--"
"You're right. I think Ron's probably overreacting. Nothing will ever happen between you two," she said matter-of-factly.
"Why not?" Hermione said resentfully. "Because you think he'll never lower himself enough to be with a Mudblood?"
"No, on the contrary. You know that as soon as you give in, he's more than likely to accept—in fact, he's craving it so bad, it's torturing him. So, you're absolutely terrified to make the first move, and he's too proud to make the first move. So nothing will happen." She smiled, "And I know that without reading your mind."
"I'm not scared; it's just that I'm not stupid. I know Ron will love me more sincerely than he ever will. And I want nothing to do with someone who's been raised by a Death-Eater his whole life."
"Look at Harry, and who raised him. He turned out all right."
"Harry's an exception to almost everything, I think," Hermione said. How true, Eve thought.
"So you're not going to the Ball? Just so you won't see Ron? Even though you really have nothing to be guilty of except for being just a tad….curious?"
Hermione sighed. "I hate fighting with Ron. I always have, even when I was a first year. I remember, before we were friends, he said I was a nightmare. I was so hurt. And when he wouldn't speak to me because my cat would chase around his stupid rat—you wouldn't believe how much I would visit Hagrid all alone, and just cry and cry. It hurt so much more because I knew I felt something different for him than what I felt for Harry—that somehow what he said had a different effect on me. And now that we're more than friends, it's even worse." Tears had begun to well up in her eyes.
Eve went to her and took her hands in hers. "Don't you see? That's why you should go. I know that when I was in school, I waited years and years for prom, how magical it would be—and I know you have, too. You shouldn't sacrifice this—in fact, I think you should use it as an opportunity to make him jealous, make him want you so bad that he won't wait to forgive you."
Her eyes were fiery and Hermione stared at her in disbelief.
"Don't be ridiculous. Me? An object of desire?"
Eve nodded sneakily. Hermione shook her head. "Please. I don't even have a dress! I was just so busy with schoolwork this year…I just thought I'd pick up something from a Hogsmeade shop sooner or later."
Her stomach twisted nervously because she saw Eve's eyes light up. She went to her half of the closet, and pulled out a box covered in beautiful wrapping. She opened it, and revealed the most beautiful dress she had ever seen in her entire life. It had a light blue, iridescent color, reminiscent of the snow falling outside. The thin straps over the shoulders had thin, translucent ribbons dangling from it as well as stringed diamonds. The back of the dress was bare and laced up with crisscrossing ribbons. The full skirt's etchings and gossamer texture looked like it wa made of fairy wings. The whole dress seemed to have its own luminescence somehow, giving a gentle glow to its surroundings. Hermione held her breath.
"It was my mother's. She wore it to her own Hogwarts Ball when she was our age," Eve said quietly. She was gazing at it wistfully.
"It's beautiful," Hermione muttered in awe.
Eve smiled. "That's why I want you to have it."
Hermione gaped. "No. I couldn't, I could never…I mean, it's your mother's. Wouldn't you want to wear it?"
"Don't worry. My mother had…other dresses," she said this oddly, as if thinking about something very far away.
Hermione doubted if any dress could ever look more beautiful. "Eve, are you sure about this?"
She nodded. "You need it more than I do. I was the one who indirectly caused your fight, I might as well help…patch things up," she said slyly. Hermione still looked doubtful. "C'mon," she urged. "Besides, it would go better with your hair than mine…those soft, light brown curls."
Hermione couldn't believe it. She couldn't. Eve went on, "C'mon, if you don't accept it, I'll be very offended. And trust me, you don't want to offend me."
She sighed. "Alright, if you put it that way. I'll want nothing more than to wear this…amazing…dress," Hermione said.
"Good," Eve said. She put the dress away and Hermione continued to get ready for bed; Eve watched her the entire time, as if examining her. Finally, she turned around and asked, "Is there something wrong?"
"Not really," Eve said. "But…do you mind if I ask a question?"
"No, go ahead."
She paused. "What's it like to fly?"
Hermione stopped what she was
doing, slightly surprised by the question. She thought for a moment. "It's like
nothing I could possibly describe. Wind. Exhilaration. Freedom. It's amazing,
it really is."
Eve sighed and looked out the
window again, quiet. She made no motion to get to bed.
Hermione stared at her. She wondered why she asked that question.Eve never stopped surprising her—once she thought she had her all figured out, she would go and do something astonishing like saving Sirius's life, or saving Ron's life, or giving her the most gorgeous dress she had ever seen. Hermione thought more about Eve. She had just read about so many different poisons, and she had started to think, especially after all that had happened with Draco. She knew positively that the potion he accidentally drank was meant for Eve, not for him. "Eve, do potions have an effect on you like everybody else?"
"Yes. In fact, they have even more of an effect on me, because I'm more susceptible to magic. I tricked Sirius into taking that potion by making him think I drank the pumpkin juice. I never did. But poisons—they seem to make me stronger. I don't know why."
Hermione thought about this. She hoped then that Draco's potion was not a poison—unless the person who put it there wanted her to become stronger somehow.
"Eve, can I ask you a question? Although it may be a bit personal."
"Go ahead."
Hermione paused, then asked, "What's it like to come so close to death, but not die?"
Eve moved her head back to the window, and thought for a moment. She spoke as if she were very far away. "It's like…standing on the very edge of a cliff…with your toes hanging over the surface…and even if its what you want more than anything else…even when it looks so easy… you can never… never be able to jump off…"
Hermione was silent; when she went to bed, she wasn't able to sleep for a while, and neither did Eve.
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