Chapter 18
Harry, Ron and Aurora stood in the middle of the high Quidditch stands, which were quickly being filled by excited students anxious to see the game. Harry was also excited and anxious, as he could almost feel the adrenaline pumping inside as he spent his last few minutes before it started with Ron and Aurora, talking. He was already dressed in his gold and red Quidditch robes and he held his broomstick steady beside him, ready to go. Both Ron and Aurora wore patriotic robes, proudly supporting the Gryfindor team as they went up against their rivals: the Slytherins. But Harry was not nervous, even as Slytherins cloaked in green and silver passed him with looks of disgust and hate. Quite the contrary, he was very happy to be able to get back in the game, even if it may be a dirty one because of the Slytherin's nearly unavoidable tricks. Indeed, Harry was ready for anything Malfoy and his crew would throw at him. He was rejoicing in the fact that he would soon be out on the grassy field, then in the crisp air, sailing through the sky with no boundaries.
"You feeling alright, Harry? They're gonna be tricky." Ron asked with a smile on his face. Though he was asking this, Ron was undoubtedly confident that Harry was feeling pumped.
"Never felt better," Harry said truthfully while a Slytherin fourth year pushed his way past them.
"I'm definitely excited," Aurora said with a huge smile. "I can't wait to see you play. I've heard you're good."
"Of course he's good! He's great!" Ron exclaimed, almost annoyed. "What did you think?"
"Well, I've never /seen/ him play," Aurora informed him justifiably.
Before Ron could answer another Slytherin pushed roughly past him, bumping Ron's left shoulder ferociously as he went. Harry's eyes widened slightly and Ron swore at the student, who only smirked and kept going. Harry had forgotten that his wound had never completely healed. His hand gripping his shoulder, Ron's eyes narrowed and glared at the back of the student.
"Filthy bastard," Ron muttered under his breath.
"Ron - " Aurora started. Harry froze. He had told Aurora about Hermione, but didn't talk to Ron about it, and he didn't want Ron to know that he had done so. Fearful of what she might say, he tried to interrupt but Aurora beat him to it.
"Ron, did you get hurt?" She asked him in a voice that rung with sincerity. Harry stared at her. Her acting was impeccable. It was almost impossible to tell that she wasn't being truthful.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Ron said quickly. "But enough about me." He lowered his hand from his shoulder. "Harry, you'd better beat them."
"I will," he said understandingly. Then he heard his name being called from far away. He looked down to the field and saw the new Quidditch captain, Angelina, waving at him. "It's time!" She yelled, "Get in the locker room!"
Harry nodded, and turned again to his friends. "Wish me luck!"
"Luck? Harry, you don't need luck!" Ron exclaimed. With his good arm he rotated Harry and urged him down the stands. As Harry kept going and reached the bottom, he heard Ron yell to him, "We're counting on you to kick some Slytherin butt!!"
Harry smiled to himself. That statement suited Ron so well. He spun around momentarily and gave Ron a thumbs-up. Ron yelled, "Oh, yeah, and tell my sister good luck for me!"
"I don't think she'll need it, either!" Harry replied as he turned and ran across the field.
Most of the students were the usual; Fred and George were the Beaters, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were the Chasers, and Harry was (of course) the seeker. But the new addition on the team was the bright, redheaded younger sister of Ron Weasley - Ginny. The team was already in the locker room, dressed and ready to go with their broom in hand. Harry raced in and, once he was there, Angelina started her little speech.
"Haven't we had enough of pep talks?" Fred asked aloud.
"Yeah, I thought that when Oliver left we would spend more time playing and less time gabbing," George agreed.
Angelina glared at them for a moment but said nothing.
"Okay," she said louder than usual, as the noise the crowd was making was increasing, though muffled by the door, "Most of us here have gone up against the Slytherins before - except you, Ginny - and even if you haven't you should know that they'll do whatever it takes to win." She cast a glance to the side toward the green huddle far away from them. "Be on your guard at all times. Fred, George, you're gonna be working especially hard on the Bludgers, we'll whack them around really hard."
"You mean the Slytherins, of course," they both said, grinning at their own joke. Angelina ignored them and continued.
"Harry, I know your job is always to get the Snitch as quickly as possible, but this is especially true now. We don't want to give them any more time to have a chance to score than we need to. And you know to be careful around Malfoy."
"Yes," Harry said as he remembered all the other times he had played against Malfoy.
"Ginny, we're counting on you with the goals, good luck and don't let them intimidate you."
Ginny nodded.
"Alicia and Katie, you and I are going to be as defensive as possible. Once Harry gets the Snitch the game's ours, so our job is to help Ginny keep them from scoring as well as try to score a few of our own."
Everyone noticed the usage of the words, 'when Harry gets the Snitch' instead of 'if Harry gets the Snitch'. However, Harry did not feel at all pressured. He just couldn't wait to start flying again.
"Everyone clear?" She asked. Every person nodded. "Alright! So let's go out there and beat them!"
Fred and George both said, "You mean let's go beat the - " ('Fred, George!' Angelina exclaimed, embarrassed by their language) " - out of them!"
Harry couldn't help laughing at the blunt way the twins put their victory.
"Let's go!" Angelina yelled encouragingly as she pulled both doors open Harry felt as though he was going to be knocked over by the full volume of the crowd as it burst through the opening. The team started out onto the field, making the Gryfindors and some from other houses cheer even louder. The light breeze ushered them along as they began to take their places on the field.
"So, I see another Weasel has joined the crowd," Harry heard a familiar voice taunt. He turned in time to see Malfoy confronting Ginny. "How many of you are there?"
Before Fred and George could do anything to Malfoy, Ginny gave them both a look that said, 'I can handle this'. Then she looked back at him with a smile. "It's Weasley, Draco, unless it's too hard for you to say."
Malfoy's sneer faltered only for a moment, and the two players behind him tensed. But just as quickly he replied, "Obviously you're the one who's just too stupid to realize that that was an insult."
"Quite the contrary, you're the one who's just too stupid to realize that you're wasting your time, because a few minutes listening to someone like you is clearly a few minutes wasted," Ginny replied.
"How's your father doing?" Malfoy asked, ignoring what she was saying. "Is he still fiddling with cars, or has he moved on to toasters?"
Fred and George both took an angry step forward and Harry furrowed his eyebrows.
"How is /your/ father doing? Is he still using his money to get what skill can't, as you do?" Ginny asked cooly.
Malfoy frowned and began forward. She stood her ground while Fred and George advanced to her side, holding their clubs dangerously. Before anything could happen, Flint caught Malfoy's shoulder and gave him a threatening look. Malfoy glared at Flint, then at Ginny.
"I'll see you on the field," he spat.
"It's funny how people tend to leave when they're losing a conversation," she said to his back.
Malfoy spun around. "You - "
"Draco, quit messing with the underclassmen and get over here!" One of the Slytherins yelled. Slowly, reluctantly, and with a harsh look at Ginny, he walked away from the Gryfindors.
"Nope, she doesn't need any luck," Harry muttered under his breath as he watched Malfoy go. With that settled, Harry shifted his attention to the game, and the once blocked out noise struck him again. He could hear a bunch of them chanting, "Go! Go! Gryfindor!" He smiled. It definitely felt good when you had most of Hogwarts cheering you on, as none of the other houses wanted the Slytherins to take victory.
Lee Jordan commenced his commentary as Harry went to take his place on the field along with the rest of both teams. Standing, ready, he waited as Madam Hooch walked to the middle of the field with the trunk. She put it down with great effort, and looked at the captains of both the teams. "Once again, I want a clean game!" She warned them. Angelina nodded to her as did Flint, but Harry could see one arm behind his back when he did. A few of the Slytherins snickered.
Madam Hooch opened the trunk and carefully released the Bludgers and the Snitch, which immediately whizzed up and out of sight. Carefully, she picked up the Quaffle gingerly, as if it were a fragile object, and with the whistle firm between her lips she thrust it up into the air and blew a high, ringing screech. "And the game begins!" Lee Jordan confirmed.
As soon as the whistle pierced the air, Harry kicked off the ground hard, rushing upward with his Quidditch robes rattling in the breeze as a thrill overtook his body and the longing desire for more drove him onward. How long he had waited for this, to sail through the open skies once again, circling the stands and eventually diving for the evasive Snitch. He inhaled the fresh air that whipped around him, for a moment almost forgetting everything.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* WARNING: I AM NOT SHAKESPEARE. ALL PARTS WITH A * ARE NOT MY CREATIONS. Thank you.
Love is . . . a rose. No, no, that doesn't work. And the Muggle Studies teacher wanted us to define it without a metaphor anyway. a feeling? Well, that's obvious, I need to be more detailed.an emotion which some people are willing to sacrifice anything for? Hmm, that one seems good, I can easily prove that with many excerpts.Romeo and Juliet did both die at the end.*
Hermione furrowed her eyebrows and swept her bangs out of the way as she tried to figure out how to word her Muggle Literature paper. Sitting in her favorite chair in the Gryffindor common room late at night with the fire creating just the right warmth, it was almost too comfortable to work in. But, with great discipline, she was able to remain focused.at least for the moment.
Sighing in aggravation, she looked back at the criteria sheet, contemplating ideas in her head. However, her hard work would soon be disturbed by two familiar voices.
"You're STILL working on your homework?!" One asked.
Hermione looked up from her blank scroll at a very tired-looking Ron who had taken a seat nearby. She was very annoyed at his interruption, since she had savored the silence of the once empty room. "Yes, I am. Is there anything wrong with that?"
"Hermione . . . it's two in the morning . . ." she heard Harry say in a sleepy voice that said his own slumber had been disturbed. She glanced at him, sitting in his own favorite chair, but dressed in his pajamas and his heavy eyes giving an impression that it wouldn't be unlikely that he might fall over asleep any second.
"Is it? I didn't notice," Hermione said plainly.
Harry's eyes fluttered open for one second, but then he closed them again, his eyelids being too heavy a burden. Either that or as if to say, 'What did I expect?'
"There's this thing called sleep. You may have studied it once . . ." Ron teased.
"I know what it is," she snapped. "And I'll go to sleep soon. Just give me a little longer- "
"When is that paper due, anyway?" Ron inquired, breaking her off.
She overcame the urge to scold him for being so rude. "Let me check . . . it's due in about three weeks."
"Three . . . weeks . . ." Harry repeated, slowly becoming awake to his own displeasure. His eyes managed to stay open as he attempted a stare at Hermione. "You're . . . staying . . . up . . . for a . . . paper . . . that's due . . . in /three weeks/?"
Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but before she did Ron answered for her. "What, is that new? I mean, only three weeks? Harry, how could she /possibly/ postpone it when it's due in only /three weeks/?"
"Ron!" She snapped, but did not continue the pointless argument, though she would definitely win. She started back on her paper, but once again -
"What's it on?" Ron asked her.
Swallowing hard and forcing herself once again to not point out his immaturity, she said, "A paper based on Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet."
Harry became unusually alert for a guy who had just a few minutes ago was half-asleep. "Shakespeare? That boring, Muggle stuff?"
"It's not boring," she replied with a stiff air. "Shakespeare is possibly the best writer of all time. His works are famous worldwide and his poetic style of writing is not only original and deep but also beautiful."
"Can anyone ever think otherwise?" Ron asked aloud. Suddenly he got up on his feet and rushed over to Harry, bent down on one knee. "Ah, Juliet, thine eyes are'st like dews upon the flower petals that doth sparkle in the rays of the eastern light!"
Harry got to his feet, too, getting his part of the fun. "O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?"* He put one hand out as if holding the bottom of a dress and another flat hand above his eyes as if searching for Romeo.
Hermione couldn't help but smile at this ridiculous version of Shakespeare.
"But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the sun!"* Ron cried out.
Harry batted his eyebrows. "Thou art flattering, Romeo." He made a failed attempt at a girl's giggle that made Hermione laugh out loud. "But what if our families caught us? I can't live 'ithout thee!"
"Come!" Ron suddenly got up, holding out his hand to Harry. "Let us leave this prejudiced world and depart to the next . . . together!"
Harry took Ron's hand but still seemed reluctant. Perhaps it was the fact that he was playing a woman currently in love with Ron, his best friend . . .
"Let us allow our spirits to rise up beyond yonder clouds of white, beyond all humankind, up to a joyous world, side by side. But if thy soul won't rise with mine, than I shall 'wait your arrival at the gates of heaven, even if for an eternity and beyond, for without thee I would rather my skin be licked by the malicious flames shooting up from the bowels of Hell itself than enter great wonders alone."
A silence followed his words, not of humor or awkwardness, but of awe. Harry and Hermione were both staring at Ron, who was glancing back and forth between them.
"Ron, that was . . ." Hermione found herself at a loss for words. "That was . . . amazing!"
Ron instantly blushed and whipped his hand out of Harry's grasp and turned away. Hermione watched him flush with embarrassment, still shocked. "How did you - "
"My mom's a big fan of Shakespeare," Ron explained rather quickly, "She used to read it to us when we were kids. It just . . . stuck."
There was again another awkward silence. Hermione had never known Ron could be so . . . . . . She couldn't even find a word for it! Or maybe it was just a word she'd never thought of describing Ron with, something other than selfish, immature, rude, and a slacker . . .
"So you enjoyed it?" Harry asked, trying to break the eerie stillness.
Ron took a sharp breath, as if he had been holding it for the whole time. "Not at the beginning. It was too complicated for me. But later on I got to really like it."
Hermione joined Harry's effort at conversation. "And what about your brothers and sister?"
This seemed to have a calming effect on Ron, seeing as he had stopped blushing and starting looking at them again. "Well, Charlie and Bill didn't care too much, Percy was of course obsessed with it, Ginny was too young to understand it, and . . ." He gave a little laugh that made everyone more comfortable. "And Fred and George had their own alternative ending which they always rehearsed, where Romeo would unexpectedly murder Juliet, kill everyone else, and take over the world!"
This time, everyone laughed. It was so typical of the Weasley twins to come up with an ending like that.
"What a way to spice up the plot!" Hermione choked.
"'Twas in dire need of a twist!" Harry agreed in Shakespearean.
The three friends continued their entertaining conversations until dawn slowly crept over the sills of the window and splashed across the forgotten roll of parchment.
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Crumpled up like a discarded piece of trash, Hermione hugged her legs deep into her chest until she could not breathe, but she didn't care if she could, she told herself as she buried her face in her knees, eyes tightly shut in despair. She didn't care one bit.
Hermione didn't know how long she had been in that horrible, dark room, but she did know one thing.
She had attempted suicide.
Twice.
But failed miserably.
How she prayed that she could die as the joyous memories of her friends haunted her dreams and filled her with deep sorrow that could not flow out of her body! She felt clammed up like a prisoner in a jail cell. In fact, she was a prisoner in this cell, bound by the walls into the rectangular shape she had grown to know so well, to her own dismay. But unlike the prisoners in Azkaban, she no longer hoped and lingered for the light outside that may one day splash across her body and warm her heart with freedom. She would never see either of her friends again, only in her dreams, dreams that turned into bittersweet nightmares when she woke up and tasted the darkness once again. Her hope was blown out like a candle, no longer burning within her soul and seemingly never to be re-lit. If this prisoner had the choice of staying in this cell any longer or dying by torture, she would embrace death once more and bear the pain of her fingernails ripped off, her eyes gouged out, her intestines jerked out of her body. She didn't care. Death was the only thing she looked forward to.
No death awaited her here, she told herself. Only eternal pain.
A low voice suddenly interrupted her thoughts.
"Don't lose hope yet. Just hang on to life."
For a moment Hermione's spirit soared. Someone with a voice she did not recognize had said this. It was her executioner. She was going to die at last!
But when she lifted her head and her eyes scanned the room, there was no one, and her heart sank again.
A strange pull gripped her. Some outside force was drawing her toward her right side. Glancing, she saw in the dim candlelight not more than five feet away the note that had been left there earlier. Slowly, laboriously, Hermione got up and reached out her tired hand to touch the note, making sure it was real. These miserable days, she had no certainty as to what were hallucinations and what weren't. Picking it up delicately, she retreated her hand and looked over the note, still in another language. But a few bits she could somehow understand, like last time. They said, "Don't lose hope yet. Just hang on to life."
Unshed tears turned to fire in her eyes as she reflected upon this sentence. "Hope?!" She exclaimed suddenly, her grip becoming fierce and her hands shaking. "WHAT IS THERE TO HOPE FOR?!" She screamed, throwing down the note in fury. She wanted to punch the living daylights out of whoever wrote that. "WHAT LIFE IS THERE HERE? ETERNAL SUFFERING?"
Hermione whipped around and crashed her body against the wall and a wave of shock jolted through her. She began to pound the stone with her fist. "WHY SHOULD I HOLD ON? WHAT CAN I HOLD ON TO?! THERE IS NOTHING HERE!! THEY AREN'T HERE!!!"
Leaning her forehead upon the cold bricks, her screaming broke into uncontrollable dry sobs. Her fist opened up, pressed beside her head with such intensity as if to push the wall down. But instead she collapsed onto her knees, covering her face with her hands and crying without tears.
"They aren't here . . ." Hermione's voice trailed off between gasps as she shook her head at her unknown executioner. "They aren't here . . . Please let me die . . . Please . . ."
But her pleas were unheard.
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Harry landed back on the ground heavily, sweat shining on his face, full of pride and joy, as he lifted the struggling snitch into the air and waved it around for all the Slytherins to see. The Gryffindors burst into a complete uproar, screaming and cheering with such a deafening volume that some covered their ears while continuing to shout. It gave Harry a warm feeling as he watched the Gryffindors flapping their colors above their heads as the Slytherins, faces twisted into scorn, threw down their flags with fury. Suddenly he was attacked and smothered by the entire team, nearly flattened on the ground until Angelina realized that he couldn't breathe and shouted at the members to get off of him. They did, but instead continued slapping him on the back and praising him, to which Harry could only grin and modestly blush.
Finally, after the team believed that they had congratulated him enough (which, to Harry's relief, came before he could collapse), Harry broke away and stepped forward a few paces on the dry ground, his footsteps lost in the roar of the crowd. His eyes caught the sight of his two friends. As the crowd began to thin with students leaving the stadium, Harry grinned widely while Ron and Aurora rush forward onto the field. Ron was still jumping and waving a fist in the air while Aurora, her hair streaming backward, took a more sane approach of cheering.
In an instant, his grin faltered.
*No, it can't be . . .*
He blinked again, and stared blankly at Aurora, who was still running toward him alongside Ron.
*But why did I just see /her/?*
If someone were to read Harry's thoughts at that moment, they would've been puzzled at why Harry was so concerned about seeing Aurora coming. But Harry didn't think twice about whom he saw. He had seen Hermione with her long, bushy hair trailing behind her.
Harry shook his head furiously, trying to get the image out of his mind. *The cold air must've gotten to my head.*
But it did not occur to Harry that it was probably the result of feeling guilty.
Or was it?
Managing to get a grip of himself, he noted that Ron hadn't done the same, considering that he had come upon him with such a force that Harry almost lost his footing.
"WaytogoHarrythatwasawesomeyoushould'veseenMalfoy'sfacehe'sbloodyfurious!" Ron exclaimed in one hurried breath. Harry laughed as he visualized a scorning face twisted in anger and shame.
Aurora immediately agreed with just as much excitement, for Malfoy had the potential to become a hated enemy in a short amount of time. She turned to Harry. "Oh my gosh, that was unbelievable, the best game I've ever seen in my entire life!" She rushed in and flung herself into a hug, which Harry smiled at and hugged her back.
But suddenly he felt as though he had been kicked in the guts. As Harry stood there, embracing Aurora, something inside him felt terribly wrong. *Why do I feel like I shouldn't be doing this?* His hands fell and he felt as though he wanted to clasp her shoulders and thrust her away from him.
Aurora apparently sensed his tension and drew back. "Is something wrong?" She asked, and for some reason Harry felt relieved that she had let go of him.
"Nothing," he muttered as he forced his gaze upward.
Aurora gave him a look of disbelief, but Ron didn't seem to notice as he slapped Harry on the back. Too harshly, he realized, as Harry choked and doubled over. "Hey, come on, let's go celebrate! I bet we can get one of my brothers to sneak into the kitchen and smuggle a couple bottles of butterbeer!"
Harry smiled, the taste of butterbeer wetting his parched mouth.
By this point the entire stadium was almost completely empty, and the trio were able to walk and laugh as if in private. But their fun was cut short as three luminous figures stepped forcefully in the middle of their path. Harry didn't have to look up to tell who they were.
"So," Malfoy said in a falsely optimistic tone, "you've finally acquired some skill. I'm quite impressed actually."
Harry returned Malfoy's sneer. "If my memory doesn't fail me, I believe this hasn't been the first time I've beaten you at Quidditch, Malfoy. Perhaps your own skill is lacking, or maybe it's just that mine is superior."
Malfoy frowned, as did the two lumbering brutes behind him. "The only reason you consider yourself superior is because of that bloody scar, Potter," Malfoy spat, pointing at a mass of black hair which hid the famous scar.
No one noticed, but Aurora's breathing suddenly quickened.
Harry meanwhile kept his smile and said, "That's a lot coming from a boy who's only here because of his father's fortune."
Malfoy ignored Harry's insult completely and his eyes fell upon Aurora with a grin. Something about it was unnerving, as though he knew a piece of information that the rest of them didn't. Aurora seemed to notice this, for she flinched under his gaze. "Well, Potter, I never expected this," he said slowly, letting each of his words sink in completely. "So soon after your Mudblood girlfriend dies you acquire a new one. Doesn't that make you something, Withertopp?" Aurora's eyes widened slightly.
Harry felt his pulse sped up, angered at Malfoy's disgusting implications. But why did it feel more insulting than it did before? Ignoring the question and obeying his instincts, Harry lunged forward at Malfoy who stepped to the side as Crabbe and Goyle took their positions. Harry recovered, Ron was at his side and a fight seemed inevitable, until a sudden appearance by an old man stilled everyone.
Dumbledore smiled warmly at each of them as if this were as lovely as a picnic in the summer. Harry and Ron stepped back from their positions, as did the opposing trio. "I trust nothing unpleasant is stirring here?" Dumbledore asked in his kind way that implied a firm expectation one wouldn't imagine emerged from such a soft voice. Harry, Ron, Crabbe and Goyle all shook their heads while Malfoy frowned. "Good, that's very good. Such a fine day, isn't it? One that should not be spoiled for anyone," he said absentmindedly, though his words ran a deeper meaning. No one spoke nor moved as his blue eyes shifted from person to person. Harry noticed that he spent a longer period of time examining Malfoy and Aurora, but thought nothing of it at the time.
His glasses flickering in the light, Dumbledore concluded by saying, "Good day, everyone, and congratulations to both teams for a well played match." With his words lingering in the silent air, he turned and strode toward the castle.
Malfoy turned back to Harry, Ron and Aurora and glared at each of them. While Ron and Harry returned it, Aurora seemed to shrink by it. Malfoy smiled at her and waved to his two brutes to follow him as he turned and walked back to Hogwarts.
"That bastard was bloody lucky Dumbledore showed up," Ron muttered. "I'd have killed him. How dare he say that about you?" Ron turned to Aurora and concern grew on his face. Harry looked and saw that Aurora looked quite unnerved.
"Hey, don't let what that bastard said get to you," Ron told her. She shook her head, and though Harry wasn't quite sure what it meant, he would find out later that day.
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"What?! You didn't know?!" Harry exclaimed in the common room, which once again was empty save for himself and Aurora.
Aurora shook her head furiously, and for the second time in his life Harry witnessed a very angry version of her.
Harry blinked in disbelief. "No, no, no! There is NO way that the ENTIRE WORLD knows who I am and YOU don't! It's impossible!"
"Well, what do you expect? You never introduced yourself to me!"
"INTRODUCED MYSELF?!" Harry felt this was absolutely ridiculous. "DOES MY SCAR NOT INTRODUCE MYSELF?!"
"I never saw it!" Aurora said, her anger growing with every word.
"HOW COULD YOU NOT SEE A LIGHTNING-SHAPED SCAR ON MY FOREHEAD?!" He poked his scar with one finger, discovering a wad of hair.
"IT'S NOT MY FAULT YOUR HAIR COVERED IT!" She screamed.
Harry suddenly smiled and laughed dryly, which only further irritated her. "Now what's so funny?" She demanded.
"Oh, nothing," he said with a deep tone of sarcasm, "It's just that I thought maybe you were the first person in the world to judge me by who I really am and not by my scar. I thought it wouldn't matter."
"It does matter!" Aurora shouted at him.
"Why?" He asked in a mixture of anger and desperation. "Why? Why does it matter? Am I any different to you now? Am I different because I have one damn scar?" He spread his arms out in exasperation.
Aurora took a moment to answer. "Yes. Yes, it does," she said quietly.
"How? How does it? Tell me. Tell me now!"
"Because you lied." Aurora's eyes met his, missing their once shining sparkles.
"I NEVER LIED!" Harry looked up at the ceiling and gripped his hair, eyes closed and trying to keep himself from exploding. "Besides . . ." he lowered his head and glared at her with a sudden hatred he never exposed, expected or even was aware of before. " . . .I'm not the only one here who's being dishonest."
Her eyes narrowed suddenly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Come on! I know you're hiding something," he accused, barely processing anything that came out of his mouth. Every word now seemed to come straight from his soul, blazing and pure. "You've been showing all the signs!"
She seemed to falter for a second. "I don't know what the bloody hell you're talking about!" She informed him.
"I doubt it!" He said.
"HOW THE HELL WOULD YOU KNOW?!" She bellowed.
By this point it was definitely a miracle that no one stirred in their sleep from all the noise of the confrontation.
Harry could not answer her question, but somehow he knew it was true.
Aurora lowered her head and closed her eyes, squinting tightly as if in pain. Then suddenly she looked up at him with defiance in her eyes.
"So it's true . . ." Harry whispered. The words sunk into his mind. Aurora was hiding something.
Her eyes glazed over as if ready to burst into tears, but oddly Harry held no place in his heart to pity such an act. It must've reflected upon his expression, for Aurora inhaled deeply, turned, and stormed away, partly with anger and partly with despair.
"I'll find out what your secret is," Harry quietly vowed to himself. "I swear it."
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Harry opened his eyes to total darkness and blinked, trying to adjust his eyes. As he inhaled, he smelled dirt. This place seemed familiar.
His eyes slowly adjusted and, to his shock, there was something moving in the dark chamber he was in. Taking out his wand, he whispered, "Lumos," trying to gulp down his fear of what could be moving in the dark. But when the light beamed from the tip of his wand and his eyes beheld the sight before him, it gave him more of a shock than anything could have. His heart skipped a beat.
Hermione!
But something was wrong. She was curled on the stone floor, hugging her legs to her chest and burying her forehead on her knees. He heard her whispering under her breath, rocking back and forth in rhythm to her inaudible words. Her lids covered her eyes, and her bushy hair built behind her as if trying to form a wall around herself. Harry grew worried and took a step toward her. "Hermione?"
She flinched at her name and stopped rocking, but continued whispering and refusing to look at him. Her muscles were tense, as if ready to spring away at a moment's notice.
Harry stared at her. This couldn't be the Hermione he knew. He took a few more steps so that he stood right behind her. She still didn't move. One part of him wanted to reach down and hug her, comfort her, but another part was afraid to touch her.
"Hermione? Don't you know who I am?" Harry asked, silently pleading for a response.
To his delight, Hermione responded, but her movement was slow and Harry once again felt chilled. Hermione turned her head ever so slowly up at him, and as her eyes met his, he felt his own widen once again and he restrained himself from stepping backward in shock.
Her eyes were pitch black.
"H-H-Hermione?" He asked, shaking slightly as she glared at him.
Her lips moved, as if in slow motion, to form a word that Harry would not forget for years to come. But in addition to her own, quiet voice, a louder voice that he felt he recognized could be heard that echoed her own.
"Traitor," the voices muttered.
Harry didn't breathe, only felt his heart grasped by the cold grip of panic. For a few moments he could but stare at her, slowly realizing what that word meant.
*She does blame me!*
But in that moment Harry heard gunshot noises and his vision blanked as he suddenly saw a blood-covered Aurora staring up at him. A scream caught in his throat, he stood rigid and tense as Hermione once again appeared before him.
*No,* he thought to himself. *No. It isn't true. She's just hurting. I have to help her.*
He reached out reluctantly toward her crouched figure and she suddenly shot herself upward. His hand whipped back to his side as he stepped backward in fear as if she were a wild animal, but all she did was sprint to the nearest corner where she crouched, grasping her bushy hair between her fingers. She had closing her eyes while pressing her body against the wall. The voices came again, intertwined and echoing.
"No. No! You're not real!" Hermione cried out as if in pain.
Harry felt a flicker of guilt and an overwhelming need to comfort her. Without even thinking he rushed over and crouched down in front of her, ignoring her screams at him. Staring unblinkingly at her closed eyelids, he waited patiently for them to open, and once they did he found fright embedded within. As their gaze met, she bit one of her fingers as if swallowing another scream. Hermione tried to wiggle away from him, but he reached out his surprisingly forceful hands and pinned her to the wall. Her skin was cold to the touch and a quiver met his touch. She emitted a blood- curling scream that seemed to come straight from her soul, piercing the air around them and making his skin crawl. How he was able to keep her there, pinned against the wall without retreating, Harry did not know. But he knew that a fire burned within him that refused to leave her alone.
"I am real, Hermione," he said to her, trying to be heard over her constant screeches and attempts to wrench herself away, "I swear! How could you be able to see me if I wasn't? How could you feel my hands if I wasn't? How could you have known me all these years?"
Hermione stopped screaming, head forward so that her skull nearly scraped his. Her pants and gasps were interchanging and Harry could tell she was trying to get a hold of herself. After a few seconds she lifted her head again, eyes wide and staring at Harry.
"Harry?" Hermione muttered in disbelief, and Harry didn't answer in his relief that only Hermione's voice could be heard. Her arm twitched and then lifted, as if she was using all her strength and will to force it. Her hand reached out and Harry refused to allow himself to pull away. Slowly, reluctantly, she let her fingers graze a lock of his messy hair. After pausing she allowed her fingers to fall against his cheek, and Harry could not suppress a shiver and the cold touch. Her hand finally fell to her lap and she instead stared deeply into his emerald green eyes. He met her gaze steadily.
After what seemed like an eternity Harry heard a quiet sob and he rolled himself onto his knees. As soon as he lifted his hands from her shoulders, Hermione burst into tears and threw herself against him. Harry wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly as she buried her face in his shoulder, crying and grasping his sweater as if her pain had been bottled up inside of her for a long time. He closed his eyes and breathed a long sigh, savoring this hug as one he thought he would never feel again since her death. He had his Hermione back.
He did not notice that her hands had wandered up toward his neck, though he did feel her become rigid again and her sobbing slowed. Fearing that Hermione would transform back into the other person, the one he had found on the floor, he only hugged tighter. She didn't respond.
"Hermione?" He asked, feeling panic build in him and his pulse quicken.
Hermione head lifted so that her hair brushed his face, and her face turned toward him. Harry realized that her hands were on the base of his neck. She leaned in toward his ear and to his dismay Harry heard the two voices again.
"If you aren't real, I won't let you ruin my life again," she whispered viciously.
Harry eyes widened and his skin prickled as she suddenly grabbed his neck and threw him down on his back. Trying to gasp but finding no air, his mouth opened like a goldfish as he saw with horror Hermione's face above him, twisted in a rage and her eyes burning like fire. Her fingers crushed down on his throat and Hermione leaned her entire weight on it. Harry felt the frail bones running along his neck threatening to snap under her grasp. His body seemed to slow but he struggled, twitching and gripping her hands as tears pushed their way out of his eyes and streaked across his paling cheek, dropping on her hands and staining them with salt. Without even thinking, to his dismay, his fingers began to work as if alive themselves and tore at her hands, wrenching and clasping. Hermione gritted her teeth but would not forfeit as she kept her hands firmly around his neck. The lack of air was getting to him. He felt throbbing pain, then dizziness, then pain again. Darkness engulfed him and he fear of death drove him to fight harder as his leg kicked out, missing the target. In one last, desperate attempt to live, he forced his glazed eyes open and stared at Hermione, who looked as though she may cry as well, though her grip did not loosen. But as they gazed into each other's eyes, Harry saw no mercy in the deep depths and all hope left him. Darkness fell upon him again and he felt suddenly numb, before a piercing scream shot through him and he ceased to exist.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* I'm SORRY! *sobs* Stupid, stupid, stupid high school . . . they seem to think I have no life outside of it!! Er . . . not like I do . . . but still, they shouldn't ASSUME that! Anyway, I've been soooo busy that I haven't updated in a LONG while. But just to clarify, I am dedicated to this story and I personally won't be able to rest nor be satisfied at all until I have written the very last chapter . . . nay, the last sentence!! So, that is my pledge. I think I've lost a lot of regular reviewers. Ah, they must have lives. Either that or they thought I stopped. Or my story just sucks now ^-^
[intothesilence]: Wow, I'm flattered! ^-^ Thanks for reviewing and I'm sorry again this took so long!
[surfer chic]: I'm glad you liked my "for no reason" story. And I'm sorry, but I'm evil, so I'm guessing we're only about . . . less than two thirds of the way done with this story. That's just an estimate, though, don't kill me! Please! I've had enough people kill me . . . but that's beside the point. Thanks for reviewing!!
[Padfoot]: Okay, okay, you're padfoot, no sister whatsoever. ~_^ Yes, I have decided that there /can be/ Harry/Hermione, but . . . bleh, I'm too lazy to go into that speech now. It's 1:19 in the morning and I have school tomorrow. Thanks for pointing out my mistakes, I appreciate it!
[TaioraCrazedGirl]: Well, there's a familiar name and question! Tee-hee! ^- ^ Muahahahahaha, I did kill Hermione . . . a while ago . . . and that won't be the end! There is much more despair to come! So hold on to your hat! . . . Oh, no, scratch that. That's such an old expression . . . anyway, thanks for being such a faithful reviewer all this time!
Harry, Ron and Aurora stood in the middle of the high Quidditch stands, which were quickly being filled by excited students anxious to see the game. Harry was also excited and anxious, as he could almost feel the adrenaline pumping inside as he spent his last few minutes before it started with Ron and Aurora, talking. He was already dressed in his gold and red Quidditch robes and he held his broomstick steady beside him, ready to go. Both Ron and Aurora wore patriotic robes, proudly supporting the Gryfindor team as they went up against their rivals: the Slytherins. But Harry was not nervous, even as Slytherins cloaked in green and silver passed him with looks of disgust and hate. Quite the contrary, he was very happy to be able to get back in the game, even if it may be a dirty one because of the Slytherin's nearly unavoidable tricks. Indeed, Harry was ready for anything Malfoy and his crew would throw at him. He was rejoicing in the fact that he would soon be out on the grassy field, then in the crisp air, sailing through the sky with no boundaries.
"You feeling alright, Harry? They're gonna be tricky." Ron asked with a smile on his face. Though he was asking this, Ron was undoubtedly confident that Harry was feeling pumped.
"Never felt better," Harry said truthfully while a Slytherin fourth year pushed his way past them.
"I'm definitely excited," Aurora said with a huge smile. "I can't wait to see you play. I've heard you're good."
"Of course he's good! He's great!" Ron exclaimed, almost annoyed. "What did you think?"
"Well, I've never /seen/ him play," Aurora informed him justifiably.
Before Ron could answer another Slytherin pushed roughly past him, bumping Ron's left shoulder ferociously as he went. Harry's eyes widened slightly and Ron swore at the student, who only smirked and kept going. Harry had forgotten that his wound had never completely healed. His hand gripping his shoulder, Ron's eyes narrowed and glared at the back of the student.
"Filthy bastard," Ron muttered under his breath.
"Ron - " Aurora started. Harry froze. He had told Aurora about Hermione, but didn't talk to Ron about it, and he didn't want Ron to know that he had done so. Fearful of what she might say, he tried to interrupt but Aurora beat him to it.
"Ron, did you get hurt?" She asked him in a voice that rung with sincerity. Harry stared at her. Her acting was impeccable. It was almost impossible to tell that she wasn't being truthful.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Ron said quickly. "But enough about me." He lowered his hand from his shoulder. "Harry, you'd better beat them."
"I will," he said understandingly. Then he heard his name being called from far away. He looked down to the field and saw the new Quidditch captain, Angelina, waving at him. "It's time!" She yelled, "Get in the locker room!"
Harry nodded, and turned again to his friends. "Wish me luck!"
"Luck? Harry, you don't need luck!" Ron exclaimed. With his good arm he rotated Harry and urged him down the stands. As Harry kept going and reached the bottom, he heard Ron yell to him, "We're counting on you to kick some Slytherin butt!!"
Harry smiled to himself. That statement suited Ron so well. He spun around momentarily and gave Ron a thumbs-up. Ron yelled, "Oh, yeah, and tell my sister good luck for me!"
"I don't think she'll need it, either!" Harry replied as he turned and ran across the field.
Most of the students were the usual; Fred and George were the Beaters, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were the Chasers, and Harry was (of course) the seeker. But the new addition on the team was the bright, redheaded younger sister of Ron Weasley - Ginny. The team was already in the locker room, dressed and ready to go with their broom in hand. Harry raced in and, once he was there, Angelina started her little speech.
"Haven't we had enough of pep talks?" Fred asked aloud.
"Yeah, I thought that when Oliver left we would spend more time playing and less time gabbing," George agreed.
Angelina glared at them for a moment but said nothing.
"Okay," she said louder than usual, as the noise the crowd was making was increasing, though muffled by the door, "Most of us here have gone up against the Slytherins before - except you, Ginny - and even if you haven't you should know that they'll do whatever it takes to win." She cast a glance to the side toward the green huddle far away from them. "Be on your guard at all times. Fred, George, you're gonna be working especially hard on the Bludgers, we'll whack them around really hard."
"You mean the Slytherins, of course," they both said, grinning at their own joke. Angelina ignored them and continued.
"Harry, I know your job is always to get the Snitch as quickly as possible, but this is especially true now. We don't want to give them any more time to have a chance to score than we need to. And you know to be careful around Malfoy."
"Yes," Harry said as he remembered all the other times he had played against Malfoy.
"Ginny, we're counting on you with the goals, good luck and don't let them intimidate you."
Ginny nodded.
"Alicia and Katie, you and I are going to be as defensive as possible. Once Harry gets the Snitch the game's ours, so our job is to help Ginny keep them from scoring as well as try to score a few of our own."
Everyone noticed the usage of the words, 'when Harry gets the Snitch' instead of 'if Harry gets the Snitch'. However, Harry did not feel at all pressured. He just couldn't wait to start flying again.
"Everyone clear?" She asked. Every person nodded. "Alright! So let's go out there and beat them!"
Fred and George both said, "You mean let's go beat the - " ('Fred, George!' Angelina exclaimed, embarrassed by their language) " - out of them!"
Harry couldn't help laughing at the blunt way the twins put their victory.
"Let's go!" Angelina yelled encouragingly as she pulled both doors open Harry felt as though he was going to be knocked over by the full volume of the crowd as it burst through the opening. The team started out onto the field, making the Gryfindors and some from other houses cheer even louder. The light breeze ushered them along as they began to take their places on the field.
"So, I see another Weasel has joined the crowd," Harry heard a familiar voice taunt. He turned in time to see Malfoy confronting Ginny. "How many of you are there?"
Before Fred and George could do anything to Malfoy, Ginny gave them both a look that said, 'I can handle this'. Then she looked back at him with a smile. "It's Weasley, Draco, unless it's too hard for you to say."
Malfoy's sneer faltered only for a moment, and the two players behind him tensed. But just as quickly he replied, "Obviously you're the one who's just too stupid to realize that that was an insult."
"Quite the contrary, you're the one who's just too stupid to realize that you're wasting your time, because a few minutes listening to someone like you is clearly a few minutes wasted," Ginny replied.
"How's your father doing?" Malfoy asked, ignoring what she was saying. "Is he still fiddling with cars, or has he moved on to toasters?"
Fred and George both took an angry step forward and Harry furrowed his eyebrows.
"How is /your/ father doing? Is he still using his money to get what skill can't, as you do?" Ginny asked cooly.
Malfoy frowned and began forward. She stood her ground while Fred and George advanced to her side, holding their clubs dangerously. Before anything could happen, Flint caught Malfoy's shoulder and gave him a threatening look. Malfoy glared at Flint, then at Ginny.
"I'll see you on the field," he spat.
"It's funny how people tend to leave when they're losing a conversation," she said to his back.
Malfoy spun around. "You - "
"Draco, quit messing with the underclassmen and get over here!" One of the Slytherins yelled. Slowly, reluctantly, and with a harsh look at Ginny, he walked away from the Gryfindors.
"Nope, she doesn't need any luck," Harry muttered under his breath as he watched Malfoy go. With that settled, Harry shifted his attention to the game, and the once blocked out noise struck him again. He could hear a bunch of them chanting, "Go! Go! Gryfindor!" He smiled. It definitely felt good when you had most of Hogwarts cheering you on, as none of the other houses wanted the Slytherins to take victory.
Lee Jordan commenced his commentary as Harry went to take his place on the field along with the rest of both teams. Standing, ready, he waited as Madam Hooch walked to the middle of the field with the trunk. She put it down with great effort, and looked at the captains of both the teams. "Once again, I want a clean game!" She warned them. Angelina nodded to her as did Flint, but Harry could see one arm behind his back when he did. A few of the Slytherins snickered.
Madam Hooch opened the trunk and carefully released the Bludgers and the Snitch, which immediately whizzed up and out of sight. Carefully, she picked up the Quaffle gingerly, as if it were a fragile object, and with the whistle firm between her lips she thrust it up into the air and blew a high, ringing screech. "And the game begins!" Lee Jordan confirmed.
As soon as the whistle pierced the air, Harry kicked off the ground hard, rushing upward with his Quidditch robes rattling in the breeze as a thrill overtook his body and the longing desire for more drove him onward. How long he had waited for this, to sail through the open skies once again, circling the stands and eventually diving for the evasive Snitch. He inhaled the fresh air that whipped around him, for a moment almost forgetting everything.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* WARNING: I AM NOT SHAKESPEARE. ALL PARTS WITH A * ARE NOT MY CREATIONS. Thank you.
Love is . . . a rose. No, no, that doesn't work. And the Muggle Studies teacher wanted us to define it without a metaphor anyway. a feeling? Well, that's obvious, I need to be more detailed.an emotion which some people are willing to sacrifice anything for? Hmm, that one seems good, I can easily prove that with many excerpts.Romeo and Juliet did both die at the end.*
Hermione furrowed her eyebrows and swept her bangs out of the way as she tried to figure out how to word her Muggle Literature paper. Sitting in her favorite chair in the Gryffindor common room late at night with the fire creating just the right warmth, it was almost too comfortable to work in. But, with great discipline, she was able to remain focused.at least for the moment.
Sighing in aggravation, she looked back at the criteria sheet, contemplating ideas in her head. However, her hard work would soon be disturbed by two familiar voices.
"You're STILL working on your homework?!" One asked.
Hermione looked up from her blank scroll at a very tired-looking Ron who had taken a seat nearby. She was very annoyed at his interruption, since she had savored the silence of the once empty room. "Yes, I am. Is there anything wrong with that?"
"Hermione . . . it's two in the morning . . ." she heard Harry say in a sleepy voice that said his own slumber had been disturbed. She glanced at him, sitting in his own favorite chair, but dressed in his pajamas and his heavy eyes giving an impression that it wouldn't be unlikely that he might fall over asleep any second.
"Is it? I didn't notice," Hermione said plainly.
Harry's eyes fluttered open for one second, but then he closed them again, his eyelids being too heavy a burden. Either that or as if to say, 'What did I expect?'
"There's this thing called sleep. You may have studied it once . . ." Ron teased.
"I know what it is," she snapped. "And I'll go to sleep soon. Just give me a little longer- "
"When is that paper due, anyway?" Ron inquired, breaking her off.
She overcame the urge to scold him for being so rude. "Let me check . . . it's due in about three weeks."
"Three . . . weeks . . ." Harry repeated, slowly becoming awake to his own displeasure. His eyes managed to stay open as he attempted a stare at Hermione. "You're . . . staying . . . up . . . for a . . . paper . . . that's due . . . in /three weeks/?"
Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but before she did Ron answered for her. "What, is that new? I mean, only three weeks? Harry, how could she /possibly/ postpone it when it's due in only /three weeks/?"
"Ron!" She snapped, but did not continue the pointless argument, though she would definitely win. She started back on her paper, but once again -
"What's it on?" Ron asked her.
Swallowing hard and forcing herself once again to not point out his immaturity, she said, "A paper based on Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet."
Harry became unusually alert for a guy who had just a few minutes ago was half-asleep. "Shakespeare? That boring, Muggle stuff?"
"It's not boring," she replied with a stiff air. "Shakespeare is possibly the best writer of all time. His works are famous worldwide and his poetic style of writing is not only original and deep but also beautiful."
"Can anyone ever think otherwise?" Ron asked aloud. Suddenly he got up on his feet and rushed over to Harry, bent down on one knee. "Ah, Juliet, thine eyes are'st like dews upon the flower petals that doth sparkle in the rays of the eastern light!"
Harry got to his feet, too, getting his part of the fun. "O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?"* He put one hand out as if holding the bottom of a dress and another flat hand above his eyes as if searching for Romeo.
Hermione couldn't help but smile at this ridiculous version of Shakespeare.
"But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the sun!"* Ron cried out.
Harry batted his eyebrows. "Thou art flattering, Romeo." He made a failed attempt at a girl's giggle that made Hermione laugh out loud. "But what if our families caught us? I can't live 'ithout thee!"
"Come!" Ron suddenly got up, holding out his hand to Harry. "Let us leave this prejudiced world and depart to the next . . . together!"
Harry took Ron's hand but still seemed reluctant. Perhaps it was the fact that he was playing a woman currently in love with Ron, his best friend . . .
"Let us allow our spirits to rise up beyond yonder clouds of white, beyond all humankind, up to a joyous world, side by side. But if thy soul won't rise with mine, than I shall 'wait your arrival at the gates of heaven, even if for an eternity and beyond, for without thee I would rather my skin be licked by the malicious flames shooting up from the bowels of Hell itself than enter great wonders alone."
A silence followed his words, not of humor or awkwardness, but of awe. Harry and Hermione were both staring at Ron, who was glancing back and forth between them.
"Ron, that was . . ." Hermione found herself at a loss for words. "That was . . . amazing!"
Ron instantly blushed and whipped his hand out of Harry's grasp and turned away. Hermione watched him flush with embarrassment, still shocked. "How did you - "
"My mom's a big fan of Shakespeare," Ron explained rather quickly, "She used to read it to us when we were kids. It just . . . stuck."
There was again another awkward silence. Hermione had never known Ron could be so . . . . . . She couldn't even find a word for it! Or maybe it was just a word she'd never thought of describing Ron with, something other than selfish, immature, rude, and a slacker . . .
"So you enjoyed it?" Harry asked, trying to break the eerie stillness.
Ron took a sharp breath, as if he had been holding it for the whole time. "Not at the beginning. It was too complicated for me. But later on I got to really like it."
Hermione joined Harry's effort at conversation. "And what about your brothers and sister?"
This seemed to have a calming effect on Ron, seeing as he had stopped blushing and starting looking at them again. "Well, Charlie and Bill didn't care too much, Percy was of course obsessed with it, Ginny was too young to understand it, and . . ." He gave a little laugh that made everyone more comfortable. "And Fred and George had their own alternative ending which they always rehearsed, where Romeo would unexpectedly murder Juliet, kill everyone else, and take over the world!"
This time, everyone laughed. It was so typical of the Weasley twins to come up with an ending like that.
"What a way to spice up the plot!" Hermione choked.
"'Twas in dire need of a twist!" Harry agreed in Shakespearean.
The three friends continued their entertaining conversations until dawn slowly crept over the sills of the window and splashed across the forgotten roll of parchment.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Crumpled up like a discarded piece of trash, Hermione hugged her legs deep into her chest until she could not breathe, but she didn't care if she could, she told herself as she buried her face in her knees, eyes tightly shut in despair. She didn't care one bit.
Hermione didn't know how long she had been in that horrible, dark room, but she did know one thing.
She had attempted suicide.
Twice.
But failed miserably.
How she prayed that she could die as the joyous memories of her friends haunted her dreams and filled her with deep sorrow that could not flow out of her body! She felt clammed up like a prisoner in a jail cell. In fact, she was a prisoner in this cell, bound by the walls into the rectangular shape she had grown to know so well, to her own dismay. But unlike the prisoners in Azkaban, she no longer hoped and lingered for the light outside that may one day splash across her body and warm her heart with freedom. She would never see either of her friends again, only in her dreams, dreams that turned into bittersweet nightmares when she woke up and tasted the darkness once again. Her hope was blown out like a candle, no longer burning within her soul and seemingly never to be re-lit. If this prisoner had the choice of staying in this cell any longer or dying by torture, she would embrace death once more and bear the pain of her fingernails ripped off, her eyes gouged out, her intestines jerked out of her body. She didn't care. Death was the only thing she looked forward to.
No death awaited her here, she told herself. Only eternal pain.
A low voice suddenly interrupted her thoughts.
"Don't lose hope yet. Just hang on to life."
For a moment Hermione's spirit soared. Someone with a voice she did not recognize had said this. It was her executioner. She was going to die at last!
But when she lifted her head and her eyes scanned the room, there was no one, and her heart sank again.
A strange pull gripped her. Some outside force was drawing her toward her right side. Glancing, she saw in the dim candlelight not more than five feet away the note that had been left there earlier. Slowly, laboriously, Hermione got up and reached out her tired hand to touch the note, making sure it was real. These miserable days, she had no certainty as to what were hallucinations and what weren't. Picking it up delicately, she retreated her hand and looked over the note, still in another language. But a few bits she could somehow understand, like last time. They said, "Don't lose hope yet. Just hang on to life."
Unshed tears turned to fire in her eyes as she reflected upon this sentence. "Hope?!" She exclaimed suddenly, her grip becoming fierce and her hands shaking. "WHAT IS THERE TO HOPE FOR?!" She screamed, throwing down the note in fury. She wanted to punch the living daylights out of whoever wrote that. "WHAT LIFE IS THERE HERE? ETERNAL SUFFERING?"
Hermione whipped around and crashed her body against the wall and a wave of shock jolted through her. She began to pound the stone with her fist. "WHY SHOULD I HOLD ON? WHAT CAN I HOLD ON TO?! THERE IS NOTHING HERE!! THEY AREN'T HERE!!!"
Leaning her forehead upon the cold bricks, her screaming broke into uncontrollable dry sobs. Her fist opened up, pressed beside her head with such intensity as if to push the wall down. But instead she collapsed onto her knees, covering her face with her hands and crying without tears.
"They aren't here . . ." Hermione's voice trailed off between gasps as she shook her head at her unknown executioner. "They aren't here . . . Please let me die . . . Please . . ."
But her pleas were unheard.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Harry landed back on the ground heavily, sweat shining on his face, full of pride and joy, as he lifted the struggling snitch into the air and waved it around for all the Slytherins to see. The Gryffindors burst into a complete uproar, screaming and cheering with such a deafening volume that some covered their ears while continuing to shout. It gave Harry a warm feeling as he watched the Gryffindors flapping their colors above their heads as the Slytherins, faces twisted into scorn, threw down their flags with fury. Suddenly he was attacked and smothered by the entire team, nearly flattened on the ground until Angelina realized that he couldn't breathe and shouted at the members to get off of him. They did, but instead continued slapping him on the back and praising him, to which Harry could only grin and modestly blush.
Finally, after the team believed that they had congratulated him enough (which, to Harry's relief, came before he could collapse), Harry broke away and stepped forward a few paces on the dry ground, his footsteps lost in the roar of the crowd. His eyes caught the sight of his two friends. As the crowd began to thin with students leaving the stadium, Harry grinned widely while Ron and Aurora rush forward onto the field. Ron was still jumping and waving a fist in the air while Aurora, her hair streaming backward, took a more sane approach of cheering.
In an instant, his grin faltered.
*No, it can't be . . .*
He blinked again, and stared blankly at Aurora, who was still running toward him alongside Ron.
*But why did I just see /her/?*
If someone were to read Harry's thoughts at that moment, they would've been puzzled at why Harry was so concerned about seeing Aurora coming. But Harry didn't think twice about whom he saw. He had seen Hermione with her long, bushy hair trailing behind her.
Harry shook his head furiously, trying to get the image out of his mind. *The cold air must've gotten to my head.*
But it did not occur to Harry that it was probably the result of feeling guilty.
Or was it?
Managing to get a grip of himself, he noted that Ron hadn't done the same, considering that he had come upon him with such a force that Harry almost lost his footing.
"WaytogoHarrythatwasawesomeyoushould'veseenMalfoy'sfacehe'sbloodyfurious!" Ron exclaimed in one hurried breath. Harry laughed as he visualized a scorning face twisted in anger and shame.
Aurora immediately agreed with just as much excitement, for Malfoy had the potential to become a hated enemy in a short amount of time. She turned to Harry. "Oh my gosh, that was unbelievable, the best game I've ever seen in my entire life!" She rushed in and flung herself into a hug, which Harry smiled at and hugged her back.
But suddenly he felt as though he had been kicked in the guts. As Harry stood there, embracing Aurora, something inside him felt terribly wrong. *Why do I feel like I shouldn't be doing this?* His hands fell and he felt as though he wanted to clasp her shoulders and thrust her away from him.
Aurora apparently sensed his tension and drew back. "Is something wrong?" She asked, and for some reason Harry felt relieved that she had let go of him.
"Nothing," he muttered as he forced his gaze upward.
Aurora gave him a look of disbelief, but Ron didn't seem to notice as he slapped Harry on the back. Too harshly, he realized, as Harry choked and doubled over. "Hey, come on, let's go celebrate! I bet we can get one of my brothers to sneak into the kitchen and smuggle a couple bottles of butterbeer!"
Harry smiled, the taste of butterbeer wetting his parched mouth.
By this point the entire stadium was almost completely empty, and the trio were able to walk and laugh as if in private. But their fun was cut short as three luminous figures stepped forcefully in the middle of their path. Harry didn't have to look up to tell who they were.
"So," Malfoy said in a falsely optimistic tone, "you've finally acquired some skill. I'm quite impressed actually."
Harry returned Malfoy's sneer. "If my memory doesn't fail me, I believe this hasn't been the first time I've beaten you at Quidditch, Malfoy. Perhaps your own skill is lacking, or maybe it's just that mine is superior."
Malfoy frowned, as did the two lumbering brutes behind him. "The only reason you consider yourself superior is because of that bloody scar, Potter," Malfoy spat, pointing at a mass of black hair which hid the famous scar.
No one noticed, but Aurora's breathing suddenly quickened.
Harry meanwhile kept his smile and said, "That's a lot coming from a boy who's only here because of his father's fortune."
Malfoy ignored Harry's insult completely and his eyes fell upon Aurora with a grin. Something about it was unnerving, as though he knew a piece of information that the rest of them didn't. Aurora seemed to notice this, for she flinched under his gaze. "Well, Potter, I never expected this," he said slowly, letting each of his words sink in completely. "So soon after your Mudblood girlfriend dies you acquire a new one. Doesn't that make you something, Withertopp?" Aurora's eyes widened slightly.
Harry felt his pulse sped up, angered at Malfoy's disgusting implications. But why did it feel more insulting than it did before? Ignoring the question and obeying his instincts, Harry lunged forward at Malfoy who stepped to the side as Crabbe and Goyle took their positions. Harry recovered, Ron was at his side and a fight seemed inevitable, until a sudden appearance by an old man stilled everyone.
Dumbledore smiled warmly at each of them as if this were as lovely as a picnic in the summer. Harry and Ron stepped back from their positions, as did the opposing trio. "I trust nothing unpleasant is stirring here?" Dumbledore asked in his kind way that implied a firm expectation one wouldn't imagine emerged from such a soft voice. Harry, Ron, Crabbe and Goyle all shook their heads while Malfoy frowned. "Good, that's very good. Such a fine day, isn't it? One that should not be spoiled for anyone," he said absentmindedly, though his words ran a deeper meaning. No one spoke nor moved as his blue eyes shifted from person to person. Harry noticed that he spent a longer period of time examining Malfoy and Aurora, but thought nothing of it at the time.
His glasses flickering in the light, Dumbledore concluded by saying, "Good day, everyone, and congratulations to both teams for a well played match." With his words lingering in the silent air, he turned and strode toward the castle.
Malfoy turned back to Harry, Ron and Aurora and glared at each of them. While Ron and Harry returned it, Aurora seemed to shrink by it. Malfoy smiled at her and waved to his two brutes to follow him as he turned and walked back to Hogwarts.
"That bastard was bloody lucky Dumbledore showed up," Ron muttered. "I'd have killed him. How dare he say that about you?" Ron turned to Aurora and concern grew on his face. Harry looked and saw that Aurora looked quite unnerved.
"Hey, don't let what that bastard said get to you," Ron told her. She shook her head, and though Harry wasn't quite sure what it meant, he would find out later that day.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"What?! You didn't know?!" Harry exclaimed in the common room, which once again was empty save for himself and Aurora.
Aurora shook her head furiously, and for the second time in his life Harry witnessed a very angry version of her.
Harry blinked in disbelief. "No, no, no! There is NO way that the ENTIRE WORLD knows who I am and YOU don't! It's impossible!"
"Well, what do you expect? You never introduced yourself to me!"
"INTRODUCED MYSELF?!" Harry felt this was absolutely ridiculous. "DOES MY SCAR NOT INTRODUCE MYSELF?!"
"I never saw it!" Aurora said, her anger growing with every word.
"HOW COULD YOU NOT SEE A LIGHTNING-SHAPED SCAR ON MY FOREHEAD?!" He poked his scar with one finger, discovering a wad of hair.
"IT'S NOT MY FAULT YOUR HAIR COVERED IT!" She screamed.
Harry suddenly smiled and laughed dryly, which only further irritated her. "Now what's so funny?" She demanded.
"Oh, nothing," he said with a deep tone of sarcasm, "It's just that I thought maybe you were the first person in the world to judge me by who I really am and not by my scar. I thought it wouldn't matter."
"It does matter!" Aurora shouted at him.
"Why?" He asked in a mixture of anger and desperation. "Why? Why does it matter? Am I any different to you now? Am I different because I have one damn scar?" He spread his arms out in exasperation.
Aurora took a moment to answer. "Yes. Yes, it does," she said quietly.
"How? How does it? Tell me. Tell me now!"
"Because you lied." Aurora's eyes met his, missing their once shining sparkles.
"I NEVER LIED!" Harry looked up at the ceiling and gripped his hair, eyes closed and trying to keep himself from exploding. "Besides . . ." he lowered his head and glared at her with a sudden hatred he never exposed, expected or even was aware of before. " . . .I'm not the only one here who's being dishonest."
Her eyes narrowed suddenly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Come on! I know you're hiding something," he accused, barely processing anything that came out of his mouth. Every word now seemed to come straight from his soul, blazing and pure. "You've been showing all the signs!"
She seemed to falter for a second. "I don't know what the bloody hell you're talking about!" She informed him.
"I doubt it!" He said.
"HOW THE HELL WOULD YOU KNOW?!" She bellowed.
By this point it was definitely a miracle that no one stirred in their sleep from all the noise of the confrontation.
Harry could not answer her question, but somehow he knew it was true.
Aurora lowered her head and closed her eyes, squinting tightly as if in pain. Then suddenly she looked up at him with defiance in her eyes.
"So it's true . . ." Harry whispered. The words sunk into his mind. Aurora was hiding something.
Her eyes glazed over as if ready to burst into tears, but oddly Harry held no place in his heart to pity such an act. It must've reflected upon his expression, for Aurora inhaled deeply, turned, and stormed away, partly with anger and partly with despair.
"I'll find out what your secret is," Harry quietly vowed to himself. "I swear it."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Harry opened his eyes to total darkness and blinked, trying to adjust his eyes. As he inhaled, he smelled dirt. This place seemed familiar.
His eyes slowly adjusted and, to his shock, there was something moving in the dark chamber he was in. Taking out his wand, he whispered, "Lumos," trying to gulp down his fear of what could be moving in the dark. But when the light beamed from the tip of his wand and his eyes beheld the sight before him, it gave him more of a shock than anything could have. His heart skipped a beat.
Hermione!
But something was wrong. She was curled on the stone floor, hugging her legs to her chest and burying her forehead on her knees. He heard her whispering under her breath, rocking back and forth in rhythm to her inaudible words. Her lids covered her eyes, and her bushy hair built behind her as if trying to form a wall around herself. Harry grew worried and took a step toward her. "Hermione?"
She flinched at her name and stopped rocking, but continued whispering and refusing to look at him. Her muscles were tense, as if ready to spring away at a moment's notice.
Harry stared at her. This couldn't be the Hermione he knew. He took a few more steps so that he stood right behind her. She still didn't move. One part of him wanted to reach down and hug her, comfort her, but another part was afraid to touch her.
"Hermione? Don't you know who I am?" Harry asked, silently pleading for a response.
To his delight, Hermione responded, but her movement was slow and Harry once again felt chilled. Hermione turned her head ever so slowly up at him, and as her eyes met his, he felt his own widen once again and he restrained himself from stepping backward in shock.
Her eyes were pitch black.
"H-H-Hermione?" He asked, shaking slightly as she glared at him.
Her lips moved, as if in slow motion, to form a word that Harry would not forget for years to come. But in addition to her own, quiet voice, a louder voice that he felt he recognized could be heard that echoed her own.
"Traitor," the voices muttered.
Harry didn't breathe, only felt his heart grasped by the cold grip of panic. For a few moments he could but stare at her, slowly realizing what that word meant.
*She does blame me!*
But in that moment Harry heard gunshot noises and his vision blanked as he suddenly saw a blood-covered Aurora staring up at him. A scream caught in his throat, he stood rigid and tense as Hermione once again appeared before him.
*No,* he thought to himself. *No. It isn't true. She's just hurting. I have to help her.*
He reached out reluctantly toward her crouched figure and she suddenly shot herself upward. His hand whipped back to his side as he stepped backward in fear as if she were a wild animal, but all she did was sprint to the nearest corner where she crouched, grasping her bushy hair between her fingers. She had closing her eyes while pressing her body against the wall. The voices came again, intertwined and echoing.
"No. No! You're not real!" Hermione cried out as if in pain.
Harry felt a flicker of guilt and an overwhelming need to comfort her. Without even thinking he rushed over and crouched down in front of her, ignoring her screams at him. Staring unblinkingly at her closed eyelids, he waited patiently for them to open, and once they did he found fright embedded within. As their gaze met, she bit one of her fingers as if swallowing another scream. Hermione tried to wiggle away from him, but he reached out his surprisingly forceful hands and pinned her to the wall. Her skin was cold to the touch and a quiver met his touch. She emitted a blood- curling scream that seemed to come straight from her soul, piercing the air around them and making his skin crawl. How he was able to keep her there, pinned against the wall without retreating, Harry did not know. But he knew that a fire burned within him that refused to leave her alone.
"I am real, Hermione," he said to her, trying to be heard over her constant screeches and attempts to wrench herself away, "I swear! How could you be able to see me if I wasn't? How could you feel my hands if I wasn't? How could you have known me all these years?"
Hermione stopped screaming, head forward so that her skull nearly scraped his. Her pants and gasps were interchanging and Harry could tell she was trying to get a hold of herself. After a few seconds she lifted her head again, eyes wide and staring at Harry.
"Harry?" Hermione muttered in disbelief, and Harry didn't answer in his relief that only Hermione's voice could be heard. Her arm twitched and then lifted, as if she was using all her strength and will to force it. Her hand reached out and Harry refused to allow himself to pull away. Slowly, reluctantly, she let her fingers graze a lock of his messy hair. After pausing she allowed her fingers to fall against his cheek, and Harry could not suppress a shiver and the cold touch. Her hand finally fell to her lap and she instead stared deeply into his emerald green eyes. He met her gaze steadily.
After what seemed like an eternity Harry heard a quiet sob and he rolled himself onto his knees. As soon as he lifted his hands from her shoulders, Hermione burst into tears and threw herself against him. Harry wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly as she buried her face in his shoulder, crying and grasping his sweater as if her pain had been bottled up inside of her for a long time. He closed his eyes and breathed a long sigh, savoring this hug as one he thought he would never feel again since her death. He had his Hermione back.
He did not notice that her hands had wandered up toward his neck, though he did feel her become rigid again and her sobbing slowed. Fearing that Hermione would transform back into the other person, the one he had found on the floor, he only hugged tighter. She didn't respond.
"Hermione?" He asked, feeling panic build in him and his pulse quicken.
Hermione head lifted so that her hair brushed his face, and her face turned toward him. Harry realized that her hands were on the base of his neck. She leaned in toward his ear and to his dismay Harry heard the two voices again.
"If you aren't real, I won't let you ruin my life again," she whispered viciously.
Harry eyes widened and his skin prickled as she suddenly grabbed his neck and threw him down on his back. Trying to gasp but finding no air, his mouth opened like a goldfish as he saw with horror Hermione's face above him, twisted in a rage and her eyes burning like fire. Her fingers crushed down on his throat and Hermione leaned her entire weight on it. Harry felt the frail bones running along his neck threatening to snap under her grasp. His body seemed to slow but he struggled, twitching and gripping her hands as tears pushed their way out of his eyes and streaked across his paling cheek, dropping on her hands and staining them with salt. Without even thinking, to his dismay, his fingers began to work as if alive themselves and tore at her hands, wrenching and clasping. Hermione gritted her teeth but would not forfeit as she kept her hands firmly around his neck. The lack of air was getting to him. He felt throbbing pain, then dizziness, then pain again. Darkness engulfed him and he fear of death drove him to fight harder as his leg kicked out, missing the target. In one last, desperate attempt to live, he forced his glazed eyes open and stared at Hermione, who looked as though she may cry as well, though her grip did not loosen. But as they gazed into each other's eyes, Harry saw no mercy in the deep depths and all hope left him. Darkness fell upon him again and he felt suddenly numb, before a piercing scream shot through him and he ceased to exist.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* I'm SORRY! *sobs* Stupid, stupid, stupid high school . . . they seem to think I have no life outside of it!! Er . . . not like I do . . . but still, they shouldn't ASSUME that! Anyway, I've been soooo busy that I haven't updated in a LONG while. But just to clarify, I am dedicated to this story and I personally won't be able to rest nor be satisfied at all until I have written the very last chapter . . . nay, the last sentence!! So, that is my pledge. I think I've lost a lot of regular reviewers. Ah, they must have lives. Either that or they thought I stopped. Or my story just sucks now ^-^
[intothesilence]: Wow, I'm flattered! ^-^ Thanks for reviewing and I'm sorry again this took so long!
[surfer chic]: I'm glad you liked my "for no reason" story. And I'm sorry, but I'm evil, so I'm guessing we're only about . . . less than two thirds of the way done with this story. That's just an estimate, though, don't kill me! Please! I've had enough people kill me . . . but that's beside the point. Thanks for reviewing!!
[Padfoot]: Okay, okay, you're padfoot, no sister whatsoever. ~_^ Yes, I have decided that there /can be/ Harry/Hermione, but . . . bleh, I'm too lazy to go into that speech now. It's 1:19 in the morning and I have school tomorrow. Thanks for pointing out my mistakes, I appreciate it!
[TaioraCrazedGirl]: Well, there's a familiar name and question! Tee-hee! ^- ^ Muahahahahaha, I did kill Hermione . . . a while ago . . . and that won't be the end! There is much more despair to come! So hold on to your hat! . . . Oh, no, scratch that. That's such an old expression . . . anyway, thanks for being such a faithful reviewer all this time!