Praesentia
Chapter Eleven--Beyond the Blaze
----
Harry stared at the flames, mesmerized. Whatever they had done to him at St. Mungo's had dulled the pain in his scar to a minor ache; and he absentmindedly rubbed the scar once he heard Ron leave the room.
It was rather calming, watching the flames licking greedily at the large logs in the grate.
A curious thought came to his mind, unbidden. Fire was rather erotic-looking.
Closing his eyes, he began to think about Susan; the memories filled him so suddenly, he felt like he'd been punched in the gut.
Doubling over, he let his body slump into the chair behind him. He put his head in his arms and let out a choked sound. Curling up into himself, he sighed, and tried to clear his mind of all thought. No matter how hard he tried, she always crept up on him in the least welcome moments; and this was no exception.
He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there like that. It had been quite a while, he knew.
He pulled himself upright and looked up into the fire again. The once large logs there were now thin, charcoal-black shards; and the fire had nearly burned itself out. Harry absentmindedly stood up and reached for a large log in the tender by the fire, and placed it securely into the weak flames.
Prodding the coals a bit with a poker, he watched as the flames renewed--stronger than ever.
He swallowed, and blinked. Yes, that was true. As one flame grew dim, another could begin.
Shaking his head, he sighed. His logic was strange tonight, so fluid and so real. He'd never felt this clear-headed before, and wondered if he could ask the medi-wizards just what they'd done to him. It would come in handy during finals week.
Just as he was placing the fireplace poker aside, he heard soft shuffling behind him. Moving one hand to hover over the wand in his pocket, he stood up slowly. Before he turned, he swallowed, and hoped she had come to him.
-----
Hermione lay on her side, her open book close to the lamp on the bedside table. She'd brought "Secrets of Dark Magic: A Guide to Self-Defense" with her from the Burrow, along with "Powers of the Siren and how to Defeat Them". They had become her bedtime reading for the last couple of weeks.
Sitting upright, and running a hand through her tousled hair, she put her chin on her now upraised knees. What was the use? She practically had the entire books memorized, and hadn't found anything in them she didn't already know. Everything was becoming more complicated as time went on. What with the fact that Voldemort could very well be trying to harness the power of the Wesele Stone....
She closed her eyes and tried to prevent the misery she felt from welling up inside her. If he succeeded, he'd not only be the most powerful wizard ever....possibly even more powerful than Dumbledore....and the actual power of the stone might be sacrificed.
It could only mean the relationship she shared with Ron was doomed. She knew that if the stone were to be made powerless, it wouldn't guarantee that the Weasley curse was destroyed, as well. There was no way Ron and Hermione could ever move to the next level of their relationship and take such a risk.
That was why she needed to read more about Herneith. Maybe there was something she was missing, a loophole. Hermione knew with a certainty the Weasley curse had never been published; she'd certainly have read about it before now. But the niggling thought remained that she had read about Herneith before; the name was startlingly familiar.
Laying back on the bed, she rolled over to her other side, away from the light of the lamp, and closed her eyes. It was sort of nice having a room of her own at Grimmauld Place, but in a way she felt rather lonely. If only she could sneak into Ron's room, curl up beside him, it wouldn't hurt anyone. They'd be perfectly innocent with one another, she told herself fiercely. Just because she was in bed with him didn't mean they would want to....
She pursed her lips tightly, and chastised herself. You fool, she thought. Of course you'd want to. You'd spend all night aching for him, and he'd hate you in the morning for the torment. Just stay in your own bed and leave well enough alone.
She abruptly sighed angrily, and pounded her fists on the bed at each side of her.
Merlin's sake, though....why not be with him now, her mind shouted to her. If this could be the last you'll ever be with him, take it!
Hermione shook her head. No, better not. Just put out the lamp, close your eyes, and try to get some sleep. Don't think any further on it.
Turning abruptly and reaching to put turn down the light in the kerosene lamp, she gently blew it out. Displacing the books beside her, she turned down her quilts and slipped under them. The warm light from the fireplace across the room allowed glowing images to dance across the shadows, and made the carved woodwork on the wardrobe across from the bed look as though it was moving, writhing. Strangely enough, it was causing Hermione's body to stir in the most unexpected way.
Relax, she told herself. Just lay back, don't think about Ron, and get some sleep.
She assured herself that everything would look better in the morning.
Her door opened.
-----
Ron tossed and turned in the darkness. His body refused to relax, and the thoughts tumbling across his mind certainly didn't help. It had never been easy to sleep at 12 Grimmauld Place, but tonight was the worst. He reached out and grabbed his second pillow and hugged it tightly.
His lip twitched as he thought about how lonely it was here. If only I could go any lay next to Hermione, he thought. Maybe they could lay next to each other and talk things over, and once she made more sense of everything, he'd go back to his room.
Ron sat up, about to move out of bed and grab his wand under his pillow, but stilled.
You're mad, Weasley. That's not the reason why you want to go to Hermione's room. You know what you'll start feeling after two minutes of holding her. Stay in bed.
He swallowed, standing undecidedly in the dark. What should he do?
The answer came to him, so simply. He closed his eyes and began to concentrate on heavy breathing, willing it to speed up, and then there was swimming blackness for a brief moment.
A wand tip flared, and through it Hermione stirred in her bed. She said, "You shouldn't be in here."
-----
Harry turned abruptly and saw someone he didn't expect. His fist twitched a bit as he clenched his wand, and he considered whether or not he should lower it.
"Harry, can I talk to you?" she said, and was looking intensely at the floor. Her finger was twirling a lock of blonde hair, and she was wearing a shockingly bright pair of purple pajamas. On her feet were large poofy brown slippers. Harry slowly lowered his wand, withholding the tremendous laugh he wanted to expel.
Instead of laughing, he shrugged and leaned against the back of the chair he'd been sitting on. "What do you want to talk about, Luna?"
"Oh, nothing really. I just can't sleep. It's really strange here, isn't it?" She said all of this matter-of-factly, as if the whole topic rather bored her. Tossing her lock of hair aside, she moved to hop into the chair that had been occupied by Ron earlier that evening. Crossing her legs primly, she let her right leg sway back and forth as she looked toward him dreamily.
Harry let out a soft grunt and moved to sit across from her. "How did you know I was here?"
"Well, I was wandering and heard someone stoking a fire, and I saw the light. Have you been to bed at all?" She barely looked at him as she examined the nails on her left hand.
"No. I'm not really tired," Harry muttered.
Luna laughed loudly. "What with all the sleep you had at St. Mungo's, I can see why." She continued to stare at her hand as if uninterested.
Harry frowned and eyed her. She could be rather nice at times, but most of the time tremendously annoying. Her words certainly hadn't been that annoying, but her indifference was.
There was silence for a moment, before Harry stood up abruptly. "I think I'm going to turn in. Good-night." He headed for the door.
"Wait," Luna said, and Harry hesitated. It was the first indication of interest he'd heard in her voice ever since they'd left St. Mungo's.
"What?" he said, rather harshly, as he swung around to look at her.
Luna didn't even blink, and instead said, "Were you waiting for someone?"
Harry did a double-take, not expecting that particular question. He opened his mouth to say no, but hesitated. Maybe he had been waiting for someone, but he didn't really expected them to come.
Luna stood up slowly. "I thought so. Good-night." She casually brushed past him and walked calmly out the door.
Harry shook his head. What the devil was all that about?
----
"You stay on your side of the bed, do you hear me?"
Hermione pushed Ron to the other side of bed, even as he protested and tried to ease his way back toward Hermione.
"I'll pull your hair if you try that again," she uttered in a low voice, pushing Ron bodily away from her. It wasn't what she wanted to do--she'd rather pull him toward her, but under the circumstances it was best option. She'd tried to get him to leave, but he had refused. And she certainly wasn't angry enough to hex him, considering the thoughts she been having shortly before he arrived.
Ron snorted. "Pull my hair? That's a hoot. I'm really trembling; do it now, I might like it." Ron arched his head toward her.
Hermione glared at him, hoping the light from the flames in the fireplace revealed her irritation. "I'm not talking about that hair, Ronald."
She saw his mouth fall open, and then he pulled back a bit. His voice was low as he uttered, "You wouldn't dare."
Hermione rolled over, away from him. "Try me."
Ron grunted a bit, and Hermione felt the bed rock slightly with his movements. Expecting to feel his hands on her, she was surprised to hear him mutter, "good-night" from a distance.
Smiling, she almost laughed out loud.
Her smile faded as she thought it was good to feel like laughing, when everything else seemed to be falling apart around her.
Chapter Eleven--Beyond the Blaze
----
Harry stared at the flames, mesmerized. Whatever they had done to him at St. Mungo's had dulled the pain in his scar to a minor ache; and he absentmindedly rubbed the scar once he heard Ron leave the room.
It was rather calming, watching the flames licking greedily at the large logs in the grate.
A curious thought came to his mind, unbidden. Fire was rather erotic-looking.
Closing his eyes, he began to think about Susan; the memories filled him so suddenly, he felt like he'd been punched in the gut.
Doubling over, he let his body slump into the chair behind him. He put his head in his arms and let out a choked sound. Curling up into himself, he sighed, and tried to clear his mind of all thought. No matter how hard he tried, she always crept up on him in the least welcome moments; and this was no exception.
He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there like that. It had been quite a while, he knew.
He pulled himself upright and looked up into the fire again. The once large logs there were now thin, charcoal-black shards; and the fire had nearly burned itself out. Harry absentmindedly stood up and reached for a large log in the tender by the fire, and placed it securely into the weak flames.
Prodding the coals a bit with a poker, he watched as the flames renewed--stronger than ever.
He swallowed, and blinked. Yes, that was true. As one flame grew dim, another could begin.
Shaking his head, he sighed. His logic was strange tonight, so fluid and so real. He'd never felt this clear-headed before, and wondered if he could ask the medi-wizards just what they'd done to him. It would come in handy during finals week.
Just as he was placing the fireplace poker aside, he heard soft shuffling behind him. Moving one hand to hover over the wand in his pocket, he stood up slowly. Before he turned, he swallowed, and hoped she had come to him.
-----
Hermione lay on her side, her open book close to the lamp on the bedside table. She'd brought "Secrets of Dark Magic: A Guide to Self-Defense" with her from the Burrow, along with "Powers of the Siren and how to Defeat Them". They had become her bedtime reading for the last couple of weeks.
Sitting upright, and running a hand through her tousled hair, she put her chin on her now upraised knees. What was the use? She practically had the entire books memorized, and hadn't found anything in them she didn't already know. Everything was becoming more complicated as time went on. What with the fact that Voldemort could very well be trying to harness the power of the Wesele Stone....
She closed her eyes and tried to prevent the misery she felt from welling up inside her. If he succeeded, he'd not only be the most powerful wizard ever....possibly even more powerful than Dumbledore....and the actual power of the stone might be sacrificed.
It could only mean the relationship she shared with Ron was doomed. She knew that if the stone were to be made powerless, it wouldn't guarantee that the Weasley curse was destroyed, as well. There was no way Ron and Hermione could ever move to the next level of their relationship and take such a risk.
That was why she needed to read more about Herneith. Maybe there was something she was missing, a loophole. Hermione knew with a certainty the Weasley curse had never been published; she'd certainly have read about it before now. But the niggling thought remained that she had read about Herneith before; the name was startlingly familiar.
Laying back on the bed, she rolled over to her other side, away from the light of the lamp, and closed her eyes. It was sort of nice having a room of her own at Grimmauld Place, but in a way she felt rather lonely. If only she could sneak into Ron's room, curl up beside him, it wouldn't hurt anyone. They'd be perfectly innocent with one another, she told herself fiercely. Just because she was in bed with him didn't mean they would want to....
She pursed her lips tightly, and chastised herself. You fool, she thought. Of course you'd want to. You'd spend all night aching for him, and he'd hate you in the morning for the torment. Just stay in your own bed and leave well enough alone.
She abruptly sighed angrily, and pounded her fists on the bed at each side of her.
Merlin's sake, though....why not be with him now, her mind shouted to her. If this could be the last you'll ever be with him, take it!
Hermione shook her head. No, better not. Just put out the lamp, close your eyes, and try to get some sleep. Don't think any further on it.
Turning abruptly and reaching to put turn down the light in the kerosene lamp, she gently blew it out. Displacing the books beside her, she turned down her quilts and slipped under them. The warm light from the fireplace across the room allowed glowing images to dance across the shadows, and made the carved woodwork on the wardrobe across from the bed look as though it was moving, writhing. Strangely enough, it was causing Hermione's body to stir in the most unexpected way.
Relax, she told herself. Just lay back, don't think about Ron, and get some sleep.
She assured herself that everything would look better in the morning.
Her door opened.
-----
Ron tossed and turned in the darkness. His body refused to relax, and the thoughts tumbling across his mind certainly didn't help. It had never been easy to sleep at 12 Grimmauld Place, but tonight was the worst. He reached out and grabbed his second pillow and hugged it tightly.
His lip twitched as he thought about how lonely it was here. If only I could go any lay next to Hermione, he thought. Maybe they could lay next to each other and talk things over, and once she made more sense of everything, he'd go back to his room.
Ron sat up, about to move out of bed and grab his wand under his pillow, but stilled.
You're mad, Weasley. That's not the reason why you want to go to Hermione's room. You know what you'll start feeling after two minutes of holding her. Stay in bed.
He swallowed, standing undecidedly in the dark. What should he do?
The answer came to him, so simply. He closed his eyes and began to concentrate on heavy breathing, willing it to speed up, and then there was swimming blackness for a brief moment.
A wand tip flared, and through it Hermione stirred in her bed. She said, "You shouldn't be in here."
-----
Harry turned abruptly and saw someone he didn't expect. His fist twitched a bit as he clenched his wand, and he considered whether or not he should lower it.
"Harry, can I talk to you?" she said, and was looking intensely at the floor. Her finger was twirling a lock of blonde hair, and she was wearing a shockingly bright pair of purple pajamas. On her feet were large poofy brown slippers. Harry slowly lowered his wand, withholding the tremendous laugh he wanted to expel.
Instead of laughing, he shrugged and leaned against the back of the chair he'd been sitting on. "What do you want to talk about, Luna?"
"Oh, nothing really. I just can't sleep. It's really strange here, isn't it?" She said all of this matter-of-factly, as if the whole topic rather bored her. Tossing her lock of hair aside, she moved to hop into the chair that had been occupied by Ron earlier that evening. Crossing her legs primly, she let her right leg sway back and forth as she looked toward him dreamily.
Harry let out a soft grunt and moved to sit across from her. "How did you know I was here?"
"Well, I was wandering and heard someone stoking a fire, and I saw the light. Have you been to bed at all?" She barely looked at him as she examined the nails on her left hand.
"No. I'm not really tired," Harry muttered.
Luna laughed loudly. "What with all the sleep you had at St. Mungo's, I can see why." She continued to stare at her hand as if uninterested.
Harry frowned and eyed her. She could be rather nice at times, but most of the time tremendously annoying. Her words certainly hadn't been that annoying, but her indifference was.
There was silence for a moment, before Harry stood up abruptly. "I think I'm going to turn in. Good-night." He headed for the door.
"Wait," Luna said, and Harry hesitated. It was the first indication of interest he'd heard in her voice ever since they'd left St. Mungo's.
"What?" he said, rather harshly, as he swung around to look at her.
Luna didn't even blink, and instead said, "Were you waiting for someone?"
Harry did a double-take, not expecting that particular question. He opened his mouth to say no, but hesitated. Maybe he had been waiting for someone, but he didn't really expected them to come.
Luna stood up slowly. "I thought so. Good-night." She casually brushed past him and walked calmly out the door.
Harry shook his head. What the devil was all that about?
----
"You stay on your side of the bed, do you hear me?"
Hermione pushed Ron to the other side of bed, even as he protested and tried to ease his way back toward Hermione.
"I'll pull your hair if you try that again," she uttered in a low voice, pushing Ron bodily away from her. It wasn't what she wanted to do--she'd rather pull him toward her, but under the circumstances it was best option. She'd tried to get him to leave, but he had refused. And she certainly wasn't angry enough to hex him, considering the thoughts she been having shortly before he arrived.
Ron snorted. "Pull my hair? That's a hoot. I'm really trembling; do it now, I might like it." Ron arched his head toward her.
Hermione glared at him, hoping the light from the flames in the fireplace revealed her irritation. "I'm not talking about that hair, Ronald."
She saw his mouth fall open, and then he pulled back a bit. His voice was low as he uttered, "You wouldn't dare."
Hermione rolled over, away from him. "Try me."
Ron grunted a bit, and Hermione felt the bed rock slightly with his movements. Expecting to feel his hands on her, she was surprised to hear him mutter, "good-night" from a distance.
Smiling, she almost laughed out loud.
Her smile faded as she thought it was good to feel like laughing, when everything else seemed to be falling apart around her.