Ch 3: Just a dream.
"Sorry, Herm, really..." Ron nearly begged, chasing after the enraged witch.
Would he ever get girls? Hermione had bothered to wait until he'd come, then told him off in very unpleasant terms and run off. Hell, Ron would have stuck around fifteen minutes, decided he wasn't showing, and leave. But no, Herm had to get all complicated on him. Jesus fucking Christ...
"Herm," The taller boy caught her arm, forcing her to turn around. Ron was shocked at the relatively mild fire that kindled in her eyes. So she's not that angry, he thought, remembering the blaze that they could become. Just...really...annoyed.
"Ronald Weasley," she said, through clenched teeth. "I waited for precisely one hour and forty minutes by my watch. Have you any idea how fucking irritated with you I am?" Panting, she managed to untangle her arm from Ron's.
Ron, for his part, was shocked that the normally docile Hermione had cursed at all. Clearly there was something else going on, something that very clearly irritated her...
Helplessly he watched as Hermione gave a final tug and, with all the finesse of one experienced, gave the Ron the one-finger salute and left.
"Herm?"
JDfjdalhfkfh;adsfh (see my note on random text)
"So glad you could make it."
Smirking, he took an extra step toward her. "Oh, that's right...I had to knock you out..." As if enjoying a private joke, he tilted his head and laughed. It reminded Gwen of a hyena, with all the recklessness and abandon of one who cares for nobody but himself, and no thoughts of tomorrow.
That she saw even a small part of herself in the laugh disgusted her infinitely.
"Come on, now, you should have at least the decency to pretend you like me after all the effort I went through to bring you here."
Gwen's breathing became ragged, coming in rapid bursts. He was closing the small distance between them in a time that made her more than uncomfortable.
"You know what I want," he whispered, breathing his scent everywhere: her ears, her nose, and inexplicably, her mind. "Come to us. You struggle so much...why not make it so much easier? Why do you fight?"
"So much easier," she whispered to him, as if he could not already read her mind. "So much easier to go past all redemption, isn't it? So much easier to give into darkness."
Ignoring her sarcasm, he slowly nodded. Gwen knew she should stop firing at him, even verbally; his rages were unpredictable and intense. Though no fire flashed in his eyes- the same blaze that came into hers- it could at any moment.
"You must realize, my darling, that the only reason I am so patient with you is that I need you. Were you someone else, I would have long since done away with such...resistance. Do not think it is anything emotional that binds me to you." As if to prove his point, he whispered a spell.
"Cruciatus"
He wasn't even mad, she realized as she slumped toward the ground. He was just showing something, a demonstration of what he could do. Pain racked through every part of her body; she was being ripped apart from the inside.
What was that awful noise? Someone was screaming, someone was ripping out the fiber of their voice with that volume. Gwen covered her ears, but it continued, unrelenting. Everything else was drowned out; the whip on her back, the knives on her legs, the thousand voices that threatened her sanity. She was left alone, awfully alone, without him or anything else. It filled the room, never hinting to waver, to die out. Her body protested, her ears gave their own scream. The Cruciatus lessened and went away, but the scream continued.
Would it ever end?
As the pain lessened, her mind returned above the chaos of the noise. He was there, he was offering comfort. Slowly, like a father, he picked her up and cradled her in his arms. She wanted to tell him to make it stop, that she would relent only if it went away. Her mouth would not form the words. It was open, ripping itself apart.
She was the one screaming.
Even with this realization, she could not stop. It continued, and he continued to cradle her patiently. He was whispering comforting words, she realized, whispering words of comfort. She closed her eyes and listened.
The scream died down into whimpers, which subsided into silence. Her voice was no more, the candle of resistance had burnt itself into eternity. Though he may never have her heart, she realized, he had her mind in his palm.
His very palm.
"Gwenaëlle Anjali Wood!"
Gwen's eyes snapped open. She'd only heard her full name—especially in that tone—when she was in trouble. But what had she done? She had only been sleeping...a look of fear flashed across her eyes. How much had she said while dreaming? Had her aunt known that she had lost to-
"Thank goodness," Sandra's voice showed only relief. "Darling, you were screaming! I nearly had to apparate in front of a subway full of Muggles..." Chuckling at the mere thought, Mrs. Wood absentmindedly stroked her niece's hair. "You were having such a bad dream, and I just had to wake you up-"
Just a dream? Was it really, Aunt? Her mind traveled, involuntarily, to the dream. The pain.
The giving in.
"-is ready. Would you join us?"
"What?" Gwen snapped back into reality.
Mrs. Wood smiled. "Just come to dinner whenever you're ready, hon." Kissing Gwen's forehead, she left the room.
To leave Gwen with her dreams.