Chapter 13: Revelations
Author's Note: Congratulate me: in this chapter, I break 200 pages (Harry Potter hardback size, not Microsoft Word size). For me, that's a pretty big accomplishment. I also want to thank my readers because you too have read and reviewed through 213 pages. I hope you keep up the great work! Oh, and I just wanted to insert a quick apology to my fanfiction.net readers; I was trying to fix some grammatical errors in my story, but I ended up reposting Chapter 12 and getting everyone's hopes up. Sorry about that. Enjoy the new chapter and, with school out, hopefully I'll be posting more promptly.
'How stupid am I?' The thought rotated slowly in A.M.'s brain, poisoning her every thought and whim. She'd known better than to ask Harry out, but she'd promised to try one more time. She'd assumed, in her romance-movie-warped mind after two years of wishing and hoping, that fate would grant her the relief she so desired. But it seemed the powers up had a disturbed sense of humor.
She'd really messed up yesterday and she knew it. Groggy with pain that had started late Saturday afternoon, she'd tried to make her way to Madame Pomfrey's, but apparently had fallen short of her goal. Only vague, shadowy wisps remained of her encounter with Harry. She could only remember Severus' disappointment and fear, so thick it was tangible, as he picked her up and carried her to the infirmary.
If only Harry hadn't come along… A rush of anger flushed A.M's face, but she quickly stifled it. She could not blame Harry for his actions. After all of his experiences with other Death Eaters, it was a small wonder that she was still alive.
Yet he'd taken the necklace. What did that mean? She recalled sifting through her meager belongings, then choosing the most expensive item as a gift. Sure, it was a woman's necklace, but it truly was the only thing she had. Now, she still didn't have a date for the promenade and she no longer had her last keepsake from New York. She felt empty without the teardrop around her slender neck.
Lunch had been another exercise in solitary confinement. A.M. tried to pretend it didn't bother her, but she was already tired of being on the outside, looking in. She'd known the risk of coming to Hogwarts; Severus had told her many times. Still, she hadn't thought she'd be exposed so soon, by the last person she wanted to know her secret, and that the other students would react so severely. Earlier, she'd washed her hands in the mirrorless lavatory on the third floor, then watched in shock as the girl next in line threw away the hand towel, muttering something about "tainted."
Still, without a time machine, there was nothing A.M. could do to change the past. Dumbledore simply warned her to behave herself, and perhaps the other students would warm back up to her, but she doubted that he was right. While the headmaster had kept the event from the press, no rule kept students from writing their parents about A.M.'s incident. It was only a matter of time until the situation graced the front pages of the Daily Prophet. After that, no parents would allow their children to befriend her.
"A.M.?" It was more of a question than an address, pulling her from her tumultuous inner thoughts. She looked up to see the one person she didn't want to: Draco Malfoy in the doorway of the classroom in which she hid. "Snape said I might find you here."
"Sellout," she muttered, cursing the Potions teacher. Her eyes darted from left to right, desperate to escape. "It's funny that you should come along, Draco, as I was just about to leave."
"No you're not." He glided across the room, his movements snakish and slithery, brushing his fingers lightly over the desktops as he passed. "Your DA class is over and dinner isn't for another hour. What are you doing in here, all by your lonesome?" Something dangerous glinted across his face, putting A.M. on guard.
"Trying to spend some time by myself," she replied. "Apparently I failed." She fought to hide her nervousness, but the look in his eyes, of competition and dominance set her heart thumping. She was not the first girl he had hunted, she was sure.
"Don't you have a promise to fulfill?" He raked his gaze across her chest, then returned to her face with a devilish grin, leaving A.M. violated.
"I'm sorry, I haven't a clue as to what you're talking about. I'll be going now-"
Throwing his arm out, he stopped her escape and pulled her toward him. A.M. considered giving him a round house kick to the chin, but realized that would simply be an angry parent's excuse to have her expelled, something she refused to give to anyone. "You said that, if no other boy would take you, you'd be going to the dance with me."
She laughed, her giggle strained in her tight throat. "Surely you know I said that in jest, Malfoy."
"Then you should have watched your words."
"Besides, I haven't been turned down by every other boy."
It was his turn to cackle. "Do you think, after yesterday, that any boy here would want to take you?" Would be brave enough to take you?! I'm afraid the only guy here with the guts to even come near you," he reached up and brushed his fingers across her neck, making her jump back, "is little, old me." He smiled at her obvious discomfort.
"No, Draco, bet's off." Deciding 'screw it,' A.M.'s pivoted back to put weight behind her kick, but Draco flicked his wand, turning the air around her into molasses. She fought to move, but the malicious blonde easily grabbed her wrist, trapping her before he removed the spell.
"I think you should know, Voldemort would find it quite interesting that you're here."
Her heartbeat, which had been keeping the pace of a hummingbird, suddenly stopped. "I…don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure you do, sweetheart," he goaded, pulling up his left sleeve. The Dark Mark grinned back at her evilly. "Now, I wonder where you got that one on your arm?"
"I…I…" Not a single coherent thought passed through her mind.
"Because, as far as I know, I'm the second youngest Death Eater." He looked at her expectantly, obviously waiting for an answer he would not receive.
He pulled A.M. against his chest and she went bonelessly, too terrified to will movement to her body. Gently tugging her hair from her ear, she felt his hand on her neck. If he wanted to, he could snap her spine before she'd even be able to raise her hands in defense. "Before you leave and turn me down for the dance," Draco whispered, "I have one more question." His grip tightened on the back of her throat, pushing a moan past her lips. "How much is Dumbledore paying you?"
She startled, not receiving the one question she was dreading. Something like relief began to creep into the back of her mind. "How much is Dumbledore paying me?"
"Yes," he stated matter-of-factly, backing up about a foot, "to cover for her."
"Her?"
"Her." He scoffed at the confusion on her face. "I ask for two reasons. First, you should consider if that money is enough compensation to risk turning me down. After all, your safety is at risk. Is she worth it?" A.M. stared at him, wide-eyed, not quite comprehending this change in events. "Second, you should consider if that money is enough compensation to make up for Voldemort discovering your little conspiracy. Because he will find out. And when he does, not even I will be able to save you."
"I don't understand. Who is she?" She tried to feign naivety. "And what money?"
"Oh, A.M., you know. The girl with the violet eyes. The one you're trying to protect. The one you're being paid to pretend to be. Where is she?"
She tried to keep her outlet of breath from being heard. Surely they knew and this was all one big joke. "How do you know I'm just pretending?" A.M. asked Draco coyly, giving the best acting job of her life.
"Because Dumbledore wouldn't be stupid enough to stash her at Hogwarts." It was true. Voldemort and the Death Eaters were unaware that the girl they seeked was hidden in this very castle. The secret was still safe, as long as A.M. played along. That mysterious girl was protected, though it was now A.M.'s head on the chopping block.
"Look, they didn't tell me where she was hiding. I just get a check in the mail."
"And what happens if you get caught?"
She shrugged in what she hoped looked like a nonchalant manner. "I get fired, I guess."
Draco smiled. If it wasn't for ice-cold blue of his eyes, he might actually seem friendly, even handsome. But one look into his face revealed that he, like all of Voldemort's true followers, was dead inside. "And if you get caught by Voldemort?"
She pushed past him, her courage finally returning. "I don't need you to spell it out, Malfoy. I understand the deal: my company for your silence. Meet me outside the Gryffindor Tower before the dance."
"Wear something… revealing," the Slytherin called behind her, reminding A.M. that she had absolutely nothing formal. Though she should have been angry about Malfoy's coercion and blatant sexual harassment, she was simply grateful that the girl's secret was safe. Still, she had been unaware that Draco was a Death Eater. What did this mean for the plan? And did Dumbledore know?
As A.M. wandered the halls, too lazy to walk back to Gryffindor Tower, yet finding it too early to go to dinner, she pondered why Severus would tell Malfoy where she'd been hiding out. Understandably, he would like his two favorite students to share friendly, even romantic feelings, but he was totally disregarding the plan. Snape was still considered a faithful Death Eater, so surely he knew Draco was also a member. Did he also have other, less transparent motives? For the first time, A.M. began to doubt her mentor's loyalty.
Draco's words also ate at her insecurities. Had Dumbledore known that Voldemort would have considered Hogwarts too easy a target to hide the girl and used that to his advantage, or was it just dumb luck? A.M. had heard that the headmaster was one of the greatest wizards to ever live, but so far she remained unimpressed. She only hoped that it was strategy that kept her alive, not blind guessing.
The bustle picking up in the halls alerted her that dinner was about to begin, but she decided to use the time to instead pack up her things. She wasn't planning to go anywhere, but she'd be ready just in case. It was more for reassurance than practicality.
On her way back up to the tower, she passed Hermione. A.M. wanted to wave, but the two boys flocking the girl's sides dashed any hopes of talking with her. Ron sneered at A.M. as he wrapped a hand around his date's waist. Harry didn't even look at her, crushing her where she stood.
It took only a few minutes to pack up her belongings. There was a hairbrush, some old, dirty robes, and an extra toothbrush. Recently A.M. learned to live with little, very different from the lavish lifestyle of her younger years. In those days, money was no object and A.M. had never wanted for anything for more than a day. Of course, five years was long enough for a person to get used to anything.
Lastly, she pulled a sword sheath from a drawer and threw it into the knapsack. The sword to it hung in Voldemort's childhood home. A.M., despite Harry's own impressions, had never killed anyone her entire life. However, five years ago, she had promised herself revenge. That sword, a family heirloom Voldemort had taken from her home, was what she would use to get it.
Sitting on her bed, she tried to slow her breathing. Packing did little to assuage A.M.'s anxieties. She'd run for so long, but it had done nothing. What would more running do, except tire her? She laid her head on her pillow, meaning only to rest her eyes, but almost instantly fell into sleep.
"A.M.," a voice whispered in the dark, an arm shaking her from her nap.
She pushed the hand away, barely registering its existence. "Just ten more minutes, kay?" she mumbled.
"No, A.M., it's time. Back door."
Her eyes flew open to see Snape standing over her, his face tight with a rare worry.
"Severus, can't I just stay?"
"Back door," he whispered, walking out of the room, leaving only the silence.
The panic, washed away in sleep, returned in a roaring full force. A.M. did everything she could to stop herself from hyperventilating. She considered getting dressed, but decided not to waste the time.
She grabbed her knapsack and threw her bare feet on the floor, ready to run. But she would not get the chance to run. As her feet touched the rough stones, they began to sink. "Help!" she cried, hoping Snape could still hear her.
She tried to push against the floor to free her trapped limbs, but it simply swallowed her hands as well. Now she was stuck on hands and knees in the cobblestone, wearing only her panties, a quite humorous situation otherwise. "Please help!" she called again.
She heard footsteps coming, but it certainly wasn't Severus. The heavy plodding grew louder as the person grew closer. When they reached the bedroom door, they stopped. Three knocks resounded through the room, hurting her ears and stopping her pulse. "Please…" she squeaked out from her tight throat. "Please just go away."
"I've come for you…"
"No, please just go away," A.M. sobbed furiously, fighting with all her strength to free herself from the floor. She did not want to see the face on the other side of the door.
"It's time to go home."
"No, just leave!" she screamed as the door unbolted.
A.M.'s eyelids flew open to find herself safe and sound in her bed. A quick feel proved that she still wore the clothes she fell asleep in and certainly wasn't stuck in the floor. Still, her skin was covered in a sheen of sweat and she could barely stop her head from spinning. She'd never had such a realistic dream and hoped not to again.
"Hello?" she called toward the door, just to make sure there really wasn't anyone there. No answer. Laughing at herself, A.M. decided to grab a pumpkin juice from the kitchen downstairs. Sure, it was a trek, but hopefully there would be some leftovers from the night before. She grabbed for the bag next to the bed, but after consideration, left it where it lay.
As A.M. began reached the bottom of the spiral staircase, she heard some voices in the common room that stopped her in her tracks. "So," she heard Dean's disembodied voice, "who are you going with to the dance?"
"Haven't got a date yet," replied Harry. A.M. felt a stabbing pain in her chest and, while purely emotional, it still knocked the wind out of her. It wasn't because of another girl or engagement that he'd turned her down. It was purely out of hatred. He hated her.
"Why not go with Hermione? I'm sure she'd go in a heartbeat if you asked her."
A.M. heard Ron clear his throat. "She's already going with someone else."
"Neville?" Dean inquired.
"No, stupid. With me."
"Hermione's going with you, Weasley? Are you sure?"
Ron huffed. "Yeah, yeah, I don't know why that's such a surprise to you. Besides, she's tons better than some of the girls who've asked Harry." A.M. was struck with the realization that Harry had already informed his best friend of her rather embarrassing invitation.
"Shut up Ron," Harry huffed.
"Well yeah," Dean replied. "I'd go with Hermione if I got the chance." He paused. "Who asked you, Harry?"
"None of your business. If I wanted anyone to know, I'd make an announcement." While she had been through many difficult experiences in her life, nothing prepared her for the feelings of rejection coursing through her veins. She felt ill, and only hoped no one would come down the stairs and catch her spying.
"I'll tell you," Ron reassured.
"Good God, Ron, don't you ever shut up?" A.M. was slightly relieved that at least Harry didn't want to take part in that gossip.
The redhead chuckled. "It was that Slytherin-Should-Be, A.M.. What was she thinking: that a Death Eater could go to the dance with a Gryffindor?"
"A.M. asked you?" Seamus, who must have just arrived, chimed in.
"Yeah," Harry admitted grudgingly.
"You should have said yes. She's drooling for you. One word and you could have gotten into her pants." All the boys laughed and she could hear the slap of high-fives. Shock stopped her in her spot. 'How could anyone be so cruel?' While A.M. wasn't entirely clueless, she had never experienced the pain inherent of high school years. The beginning of tears blurred her vision, but she continued to listen.
Soon Harry was deep into the story of that morning. She heard a reluctance in his voice and hoped that it was his conscience. Surely, he didn't normally act this way. "Then she gives me this cheap necklace and says it used to be her mom's, but she wants me to have it." Snickers resounded, merely reassuring Harry. "Like I'm going to wear some stupid necklace. 'It will bring you good luck,'" he mimicked in a high, whining voice.
"Probably sold herself to You-Know-Who to get that thing," Seamus interrupted. Once again, laughter erupted all around.
"Nah," Harry replied, "I bet her mom whored herself to Malfoy's dad to buy it."
That was the final straw. A.M. stormed down the stairs into full view of the four in the common room, grabbed Harry by the shoulder, and swung him around. "Who do you think you are?" she yelled. "I have put up with you, Harry Potter, for as long as I can take! I have tried being nice to you, I have tried standing up for you in Snape's class, and I have tried apologizing to you! I don't know what else I could have done to show you that I truly cared for you as a person!" She was unaware of the crowd slowly gathering around her, obviously hot for a fight.
'But you continue to terrorize me. And I can take that. I'm strong and I can handle anything you do or say. But when you talk about my mother…" her throat tightened at the memory, "you have gone too far." The tears spilt onto her cheeks. "When you talk about my DEAD mother, when you cheapen the memory of my mother who DIED trying to save me from my fate, you have crossed the line!"
Harry was so surprised he just stood there for a minute. No one spoke. No one moved. Finally he stammered, "I'm… I'm s-s-sorry."
'No, Harry Potter, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ever thought you were kind and brave. I'm sorry I thought you could ever have feelings for me. I'm sorry that I dirtied myself by trying to make you care for me. Because I despise you! You are cruel and arrogant and everything you complain about in other people! And that makes you a hypocrite. So I despise you for that as well!
She felt her anger fading, but when she saw the necklace dangling from his frozen fingers, it returned in full force. She snatched it from him and continued her tirade. "Harry, I hope you're happy. I hope you're pleased that you were able to hurt a person so deeply she never wants to hear your voice again. Because it's true: every word you speak is like a dagger in my chest."
She turned towards the girls' stairs, but stopped to face him one last time. "And if you ever speak ill of my mother again, I will strike you down where you stand." With that she left the boy there, openmouthed, and flew to the solitude of her room.