Chapter 12 - The messages

Three days had passed since Harry sent that letter, and Hermione had noticed that her friend had somewhat fallen back into his earlier depression, occasionally forgetting to eat and spent most of his time near the Northern tower.

At first she had thought it was because of what she had told him, but on the second day she had noticed that he again could be found staring at Malfoy across the tables in the Great Hall.

She thought about talking some sense into him, but decided to wait for a while, see what he chose to do.

But the following night she had enough of the torture he was putting himself through, and she decided to see what the hell he was up to. Going up to where she thought he'd be she found him curled up in a little ball, looking out through a window. She remained somewhat out of sight, but closed up on him, staying in the shadows.

"I don't understand anything anymore," she heard him mumble as if to himself.

"Understanding means that you have to learn," a voice answered him, and Hermione swayed for a second in her tracks. She thought she recognized that voice, but couldn't quite place from where.

"But I am sick of learning. Sick of the torture he puts me through. Even though things are a little lighter than before, it still tears so much." Harry made a movement with his right hand, clutching his shirt just about where his heart was, tearing lightly at the spot.

"I hate it."

The words were barely audible but uttered with such sadness that they pierced through both flesh and bone. Hermione drew an inaudible gasp of air, and she noticed the slight shift in the shadows to her left, where a dark-hooded person stood, looking at her for a mere moment and then turning back towards Harry. Harry, who had managed to regain his voice and some of its strength.

"I hate it so much. Because I love him. With the whole of my heart. And it always is going to be like this. That I'll never have him again. Never again see him smile at me in that secretive kind of way, never hold him, never wake up next to him. Never-"

Harry's voice didn't bear any longer; he just bowed his head, letting that black mass of hair fall down in his face to shield his eyes and the hurt in them.

Hermione found herself frozen in her place. Not until now did she understand what hell he went through everyday.

"And what do you want me to do about it?" The shadow asked with a sudden tiredness hinted deep within. "I cannot take away the pain - not for good."

"You don't have to do anything," Harry mumbled after a while. "I've already accepted my place. I did that when I came back. But that doesn't mean that it makes things easier. It doesn't make the pain go away."

The shadow bowed its head in admission.

"However I believe that there is something that should make your burden easier to bear. He has sent me a message for you."

At this Harry's head shot straight up, staring at the shadow. It looked as if he didn't believe what he just had heard, that it was too good to be true.

"What?"

"A message," the shadow repeated. "That you should see him three hours before dawn at the usual place."

And with those words the shadow disappeared into the darkness, suddenly gone.

Hermione's eyes widened, suspicious as ever before.

But Harry looked so overly stunned, his earlier depression gone with the wind. He was seeing Draco again. Tonight.

How could time ever go so slow?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

At the same time back in Gryffindor tower, Ron and Dean Thomas were in the middle of a game of wizard's chess. Dean chewed on his lower lip as he moved one of his pawns two steps forwards, watching it get butchered by Ron's bishop a few seconds later.

The common room was pretty much deserted, only a few second years were up besides them, occupying a few couches where they discussed in hushed voices.

Ron absentmindedly listened to the fire crackling a few steps away; soothed by the peaceful sound. But then there was something that caught his attention, a low sound beyond the ones of the fire and his fellow Gryffindors speaking. A knocking.

Lifting his head up from where it had been glued on the chessboard, he saw that Dean as well had observed the sound. They both turned their eyes toward the portrait hole, then back to one another. Shrugging their shoulders, Ron rose and walked to it, opening it and thus revealing a dark-hooded person.

It took Ron maybe two seconds to register the person, and then he stiffened and went to shut the portrait back again.

"I request to speak with you, Jade," the voice said, making Ron stop dead in his movements.

"What did you call me?" He whispered; his voice very low and suspicious. Almost on instinct he had stepped outside the portrait hole, shutting the entrance behind him so that he wouldn't be overheard.

"Jade. Alas that is your name."

"Who are you?" Ron said, suddenly very angry.

The person lifted the arms, viewing two ghostly pale hands, then withdrawing the hood, and viewing a cascade of black hair, ivory skin, and eyes dark as onyx.

"Sankryo," Ron breathed.

She inclined her head as a nod, then looked just behind Ron, seeing that the Fat Lady was watching the two of them with quite some interest.

"Follow me."

"Why?" Ron inclined suspiciously.

"Because you do not want the whole school to know what I want from you."

There was something in the way she put it that made Ron blush like a madman, and he then nodded. He followed her as she started to walk through the school, stopping at the third floor, in the corridor Fluffy had used to be before they had moved him down into the dungeons.

By this time Ron was not little suspicious, and he watched her turn around towards him, her gaze dark and unreadable.

"Now what did you want to talk about?" Ron asked, trying to sound casual even though he in fact felt very much pressed by the other girl.

"Your brother Charles," she answered.

"Charlie?" Ron asked sounding very surprised and unbelieving.

"Yes. I would like you to send your brother an owl, wishing for a gallon of dragon blood."

Ron looked as if he didn't believe his ears. "Dragon blood? But that's poisonous!" He outburst.

Moranna nodded, shifting her position slightly. "I am aware of that," she said. "But I am in need of it. Your brother knows why. However I have been unable to contact him, and thought that you ought to know where he is."

Ron shrugged. "He's in the north of Romania. I guess I can make him send it to you. However I want to know why you need it." There was sharpness in his voice that told of that he wouldn't settle with anything less than the truth.

"It is only fair of you to ask for a reason," Moranna said agreeably. "It is for personal use, not to be used by anybody else than myself."

Ron looked a bit suspicious, but nodded curtly.

"What do you want me to tell him?" he asked.

"Tell him a8 to c8, and that the red never has been this tempting."

Ron looked quite much like a question mark, but Moranna just smiled mysteriously at him, and then picked up two galleons from her right pocket. "One of these should cover the costs," she added as she placed the money in his hand and then closed it, making sure of that he caught the meaning of what she was saying.

Ron nodded, not saying anything else. A sudden ease had made its way throughout his body; he couldn't quite place it but was just so relaxed.

Moranna's voice came spun like silk through the air as she slowly retracted her hand.

"I am certain of that you will make sure of that the blood comes in as fast as possible," she then said, taking a few steps back before leaving him there.

Ron was left alone staring after her as she soon blended in with the shadows and then at the two golden coins in his hands.

Then he was off to the Owlery.