Chapter 6
The First Dance
(A/N:: Ummm…this story belongs to me, but the characters and anything you recognize belongs to JKR. Disappointing huh?)
Previously on The Power of Dance…
Malfoy's dying voice filled her mind, calling for his son. And she fell back into self-loathing. She deserved the hell she was in, there was only one person that could release her from it, and she wasn't worthy enough to beg for his forgiveness.
"You are not a murderer Miss Granger." He drew a deep breath, there was so much he had to tell her, so much he had to make her understand.
"NO." My screamed into the compassionate face in front of her. "What the hell are you doing? I am a murderer, seventy people died under a reign of fire I summoned. Fire that left Ron, Harry and myself alone. I burned my classmate's parents to ash for Merlin's sake. Parkinson, Goyle, Flint, Crabbe.
"All gone.
"All inside of my head." She looked into blue eyes deprived of their usual twinkle. "You say that I am not guilty, not a murderer. What am I supposed to tell Draco? Should I tell him that his father cried for his son with his last breathe? That all around me the people he grew up knowing begged and pleaded for mercy and the fires only got hotter?" My paced around the room, the fire and candlelight flickering with every step, attuned to her every move. "I was angry, they insulted me, and instead of throwing curses, even dark ones, instead of protecting Harry with a shield spell, I called down fire. I let rage take control over me and called down liquid fire burning them all.
"And now-" Hermione's voice grew soft and scared. "And now they all live inside of my head and I relive every cry every day, all day." She glared at the headmaster. Continuing before he could speak, trying to talk over the voices screaming in her mind, this was their story to tell. She clasped her shaking hands forcing out every negative emotion she felt towards the Headmaster.
"I got away, I found a place doing something to block out the voices. It worked, I was sane for three months, and in fact I was happy for a month.
"Happier for a single month than I have been in the last two years. But you tore it down. You who I owe so much too. You brought me back here, back to a place where all my shields and all of the things I learned this summer mean nothing." She looked at the headmaster silent tears falling down her face, fire kissed hair spread out all around her.
"They are killing me.
"As I killed them." At that she collapsed to the floor and sobbed, her body graceful even in despair.
Dumbledore fingered his white beard and stared at the whimpering child in front of him.
So much pain in a person so small.
Forcing his knees to bend, he crouched in front of the weeping girl. Placing his cool fingers under her burning chin he forced her face up to meet his eyes.
"My child. Hermione. I cannot pretend to know your pain. To understand the agony that you are going through. But I repeat. You are not, nor have you ever been a murderer." Knowing he had her attention, he rose and stared at the fragile girl in front of him. Stared at the tears falling down ashen cheeks. She wasn't ready.
She wasn't ready to know the truth about herself and about her future. Walking to his desk, he opened a drawer and removed a slim leather bound book. Walking back to her prone form, he handed her the book, searching her eyes for the perfect prefect of two years ago.
"Miss Granger, I give you this with the idea that you will not abuse the privilege, nor will you show it to others." Having completed his search of her eyes, he held out a lined hand and helped the girl to her feet. Walking her towards the door he placed a guiding hand on the small of her back, gently pushing her from his office. Before she left however, he spoke again, this time, a faint hint of a plan to his words.
"Good bye Miss Granger. Do try and attend the feast, your friends have missed you deeply." At that Hermione's eyes closed and her body stiffened as if stabbed. Already partway through the door she stopped and turned back to him. For the first time presenting him with My, not the broken shell that was Hermione.
"Did Harry get his gift?" Her voice was rough, trying to keep out the panic. Dumbledore nodded.
"He did, even Severus was impressed with the design and effect. I honestly do not know if I could duplicate your work. Harry wears it anytime he is in public." My nodded once, and perhaps it was Dumbledore imagination, but her shoulders seemed to straighten as through a load had been lifted.
"Goodbye sir." She walked out of his office.
Her mind in a whirl, her feet walked along familiar stone. They carried her automatically to the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Waiting with a vacant expression, My waited counted the beats of her heart until the Fat Lady noticed her presence.
"Oh my dear child." The woman in the portrait gasped." Oh my child you have finally come home." The portrait swung open, revealing the common room. "The passwords are apple blossom and Phoenix Flight."
My entered the room. Nothing had changed. A fire burned coolly in the hearth, red couches clean and the plush carpet immaculate. Resting on a table was a slip of parchment, a note from Professor McGonagall.
Miss Granger--
In light of certain events, the school is willing to overlook previous stipulations and provide you with a single room for the time being until you have become better adjusted to being back at Hogwarts.
Minerva
My laughed bitterly, they just didn't want her to kill Lavender and Pavarti in a fit of teenage pique. The thought suddenly wasn't as ironically funny. It could happen. She thought of the disgusting man in New York, she had almost killed him. If everyone was to survive this year, she was going to have to control her volatile temper. That meant not letting nasty comment upset her, or allowing Ron to manipulate her. That is if he was even willing to speak with her. She let her eyes crawl around the room, memorizing every detail all over again, when something new caught her eye. A new painting rested on the wall by the dormitories.
A fiery bird in flight arced across the ground. Beak open in a silent cry, the moment of freedom forever trapped in the oil paints. Allowing her fingers to hover over the bird she imagined the heat radiating off of the glittering feathers. Felt the freedom of the flight, of the Phoenix.
Moving closer, until her eyes met the birds she whispered "The joys and freedom of the phoenix flight, I wish it could set me free." As she spoke the words, the painting dissolved leaving the gilt frame empty revealing an entrance to a new room she had never, in seven years, seen. It was a room of cool blues and whites, shelves full of familiar books. A couch and plush chairs lined the walls, a large fireplace housing a cool blue flame. In a corner by the wall-sized window, a sturdy table, perfect for her old voracious reading and study habits. In the other corner, a twin bed, sheets a cool blue and white, a single red and gold pillow resting above the duvet. The coolness of the room seeped under her barriers, siphoning off the heat radiating from her skin.
The room was to quiet though. There were hours before anyone would appear in the Gryffindor common room. It was hours before the feast. The thought made her shiver. Hundreds of eyes, focusing on her, judging her, all trying to determine her worth, her validity, her sins.
My closed her eyes and tried to ward off the sweeping feelings of shame and disgust that were threatening to claim her for the third time today. She began counting the steps she took, as she stalked around the room, looking for her possessions. She found all of her old school things, cleaned and pressed, organized in her own anal-retentive way. Untouched however, was a pale blue suitcase, her clubbing clothes.
Short skirts, leather, lace, and mesh.
Strappy shoes, glitter and glam.
The history of her summer and the ticket to her current and now decreasing sanity.
Lifting a glittering bit of fabric from the case she could hear the throb of base in the back of her skull She could remember the magnetic energy of the dance, the feeling of warm dry hands and her waist and shoulders, roaming across her body, claiming her as their own.
She remembered the safety in a pair of arms, the completeness of having a partner, the culmination of the dance and the nearly breathless anticipation of the next one. She pictured deep and wounded eyes, twin pools of gray waters to cool her heat. How she missed those eyes, hands, and spirit. They had spent every night together for a month. She had never had a deep conversation with him, but their dance was so close, so intimate, that she felt as though she had known him forever. She knew his smell and his movement, the way he thought and sometimes how he felt about her, she could read it in his eyes, and in the way he held her.
Clutching the book Dumbledore sent her and the tiny shirt, My sank into a pale chair with a heavy sigh. Leaving Drake in New York had been hard, but she knew it wasn't fair to him. A caring, slightly damaged muggle should have nothing to do with a more than slightly crazed, utterly destroyed witch. She was eighteen years old. In those years she had fought a troll, been petrified, released a convicted murderer, befriended a werewolf, dated a sports star, rebelled against the Headmistress, lost and buried her parents, gained an eating disorder, lost her best friends, fought in an adult war, killed seventy people, lost her sanity, found true love, and lost it again.
So much loss.
It wasn't fair to Drake to expect him to still be thinking of her. They met in a club, shared a few dances. She still wished. Wished she could have ignored the official Hogwarts owl. Ignored his edict of return. Wished she had taken the trust fund her parents left her and stayed in New York on her own, or with Drake.
But of course, the fund wasn't activated until she graduated, and for seventeen years she had been Hermione Granger, resident know-it-all, bookworm, and brownnoser. The weight of her past made the direct command of a teacher too strong to ignore.
My closed her eyes against the headache, the pounding shame for being alive and the body numbing rage at being forced back to Hogwarts. She knew that Dumbledore was the only one that could answer her questions, the only person that could tell her what she was and what she would become.
She wasn't ready yet though. Her mind was fragile and the voices were loud. Curling her tiny feet up, she tucked them underneath her. She uncurled her fingers from the tiny leather book Dumbledore gave her. Gently opening the yellowed pages she stared at the title in amazement.
"A Look at the Anti-Transportation Wards at Hogwarts School"
Her eyes widened as she wondered at this seemingly random choice. Then it dawned on her. He knew, knew about her dancing and how important it was to her. He gave her the means to leave, to dance, to stay sane and in control.
Settling down deeper into the chair she began to read, eyes growing wider with each page. It took nearly two hours to read the slim book comprehensively, but she was done, and almost happy. She knew how to safely and silently leave Hogwarts without anyone being alerted of a spell. Flipping to the back cover, she allowed her eyes to scan the list engraved in the leather. Finding:
--Manchester, England: Post office---dungeon west torture chamber, fifth rack.
--London, England: Downtown ---sixth floor west hall east corridor, Hearth
--Tokyo, Japan: Ministry---Astronomy Tower, eighth closet from the top.
The London entry caught her eye. She had no idea Hogwarts had this type of experimental magic. Walkways were rare and could be dangerous. A single step through the selected doorway and then a step through folded space, connecting hundreds of miles of ground behind on door, hidden from the school in plain view. My closed her eyes and tried to consider how best to get to the corridor, she knew that she would have her dance. The sounds of raucous laughter forced her eyes open. Hours passed since she opened the book, and the student body had returned to school.
Knowing Dumbledore wanted her to go to the feast, the magnitude of his trust still no her shoulders forced her to stand. She removed the baggy sweatpants and cotton tank top she had been wearing and slipped into a clubbing outfit. The vinyl pants slid over her slim legs, while a lacy corset enunciated her modest curve. Spelling her makeup and hair, she sat in the chair again to slid on a pair of heeled boot, that never hurt her feet and added five inches. Reaching into the closet she removed a black school robe, and the tall hat she despised. Running trembling fingers over the familiar school crest, she grabbed her wand and cast an ignore spell on the robe. People would see her, but ignore her very presence, never bothering to question her. Pulling the robe on filled her with security. The fear of people dredging up old memories was lessened by the easy charm.
Taking a deep breathe, My walked out of her new room and out of the safety of the Gryffindor tower all together. She arrived at the entrance to the giant hall along with the rest of the student body. She could feel eyes touch on her, and then slid off like oil and water. Walking along the tables she sat at the last seat, away from the main bulk of the student body. Positioning her body to watch the incoming students she settled back to see old friends and people that she didn't deserve to look at.
The last faces to slid into seats before the feast began were enough to bring tears to her reddened eyes. Harry, Ron, and Ginny sat in a tight group quiet and isolated from throughput the school. The rest of the seventh years shared the same expression. Dazed, slightly confused at the absence of a familiar piece. The missing piece was her. The pale skinned Ginny rubbed at her already red eyes, and the shell-shocked expression on Harry's face almost made her want to remove the charm, to reveal herself and to drown her pain in the familiar arms of her best friends. The glares from the other houses quickly killed that idea. Their searching eyes made her glad of the charm, glad their curious and searching stares wouldn't break her barriers.
*~*~*
Dumbledore stood and overlooked his student body. He knew each and every face, but some drew his attention stronger than others. Draco sat at the Slytherin table, a blank expression on his aristocratic face. The rest of his housemates muttered, plotting evil deeds. Draco wasn't part of it; he was very far away, dancing in a New York nightclub. A glint of red drew his attention to a group of three at the Gryffindor table. The last Weasley's looked broken, a part of them missing. Harry's expression was vacant, his pain at the missing face evident to anyone that ever met him. The rest of the older Gryffindor students seemed so lost. What would they do without her? Looking out over the rest of the students, he could feel the hungry curiosity of the Ravenclaws and the avid attention of the Hufflepuffs, and was glad the Hermione didn't decide to join them at the feast.
He ran his eyes back over the Gryffindor table, feeling like he ought to know something. Then he felt it, his eyes, sliding off a presence at the end of the table as though it was coated in butter. Focusing his attention, he looked again and saw her. She had come after all, wearing an easy ignore spell that wasn't taught until seventh year. Just seeing her there, once again demonstrating her potential, he knew she was going to be all right, and so, ha called to Minerva to bring in the first years for sorting.
Dumbledore wasn't the only one to notice the blank in the corner of the Gryffindor table. Fingering a scar in his forearm, the Potions Master stared at the blank, deep in thought. He tried to figure out a way to release himself from the debt he was under. Looking at the students he taught he felt nothing but disgust. She was one of two in the whole school with potential. He regarded the incoming first years with a critical eye. Already they seemed incompetent.
"Blaine, Doris"
He let his eyes drift to the other potential, his favorite. The boy looked tired. Tired and absent from the proceedings. His mind obviously on someone, somewhere else. He was so focused on that elsewhere that he couldn't see what was in front of his face. Snape's eyes narrowed as his agile mind tried to figure out his dilemma.
"Haverfield, Richard."
"Keely, Lisa."
"Reiser, Paul."
"Xanyan, Indira."
"Zabaini, Cheyenne."
Snape looked between the two of them. Neither could see the truth. Then as the last student called was placed in Slytherin he knew. He knew exactly how to repay his debt. Settling back he allowed Dumbledore to repeat the same speech as always. The end this year was very different. At the end of it, after warnings and edicts, Dumbledore informed the school of her presence.
"…The final list can be found in Filch's office. Now last May many of you remember the events that occurred. Some lost friends, some siblings, and many lost parents. However, in that loss, the war has ended. The sight of black envelopes will not silence this hall every morning. Everyone that should be here is, and everyone is welcome to an education. I know there are many questions that need to be addressed, however, the answers will come with time. For now, know everything and everyone is in their place. Have a good year." And he sat, his eye twinkling at the sight of fried chicken in front of him.
*~*~*
My swallowed quickly, the bite of tomato almost choking her. Dumbledore as good as told the entire school that she was there. She looked around at all of the students cramming dense food into their mouths. Pushing a carrot around on her plate, she listened to the chatter all around her. The Slytherins were muttering and the mudblood bitch and flimsy plans for revenge. My forced herself not to glance at the blonde head surrounded by the hateful group. The Hufflepuff house had decided that she killed the deatheaters in order to take over the dark position herself, and Harry killed her in the final battle as well. The Ravenclaws remained neutral, they simply wanted to know what spell she used, and if they were going to be tested on it. The Gryffindor house was the worst however. They just wanted to know where she was.
"Dumbledore said she was here. Where is she?"
"I can't believe that she didn't come, it's the last welcome feast we'll have."
"Who will tutor the younger students in everything?"
"I miss her."
It was to much. My stood, the fist year sharing the bench startled by the sudden movement of the empty bench seat. Gathering her robes closer, and making sure the little girl didn't fall she left. Her heart beating painfully, she walked past all of the tables towards the doors, never noticing a pair of gray eyes following her out.
*~*~*
He had enough. The crude words, the simpering laughs, the whispers of revenge. He wanted peace. The rumors about her flew about him. Rumors he knew were false. Vaguely he wondered how Potter was taking the rumor that Granger was the new Dark Lady. He would laugh, sweet innocent Hermione? Never. Drake knew better. Death can change anyone, killing changes everyone. Killing seventy people, even for the good of humanity would change a person. It would change her so much even Dumbledore would have trouble finding the old her underneath the damage.
He let his eyes wander across the hall he once considered his own, observing the people he grew up with. As he quickly scanned over the Gryffindor table he felt strange, a desire to ignore one end of the table. A desire to simply skip past that end of the table. Drake's eyes narrowed. An ignore charm. He knew it well; it saved him from many beatings as a child. It was safe at Hogwarts; he hadn't felt the need for the spell in years. Who would need to hide in plain view at Hogwarts. Then Dumbledore finished his speech and the whisperings began in earnest, the patch began to move, almost run towards the door. Then he knew.
The only person that would need to hide at Hogwarts was HER. Not knowing why he felt so drawn to her, he stood and excused himself, the adoring eyes of the new Slytherin girls followed him out the door. Another generation to worship the Slytherin Prince. He walked down the hall trying to analyze why he wanted to speak to her so badly. Did he want to see her pain, see what changes the summer had brought to her? No. Did he want to ask her about his father? Sort of. Drake shook his head. He just wanted to see her. Make sure, make sure she was alright. He walked down the hall quietly, listening for the click of shoes on stone.
Following the noise down three corridors and up, down and around six flights of stairs it finally stopped just around the corner, in an abandoned floor. Drake waited to see what her next move was. From his position around the corner, he heard cloth drop to the ground and a strange grating scrape combined with a spell Drake had never heard of before. As he committed the words and inflections to memory, he heard the one sound other than his father that sent shivers down his spine.
"Miss Granger." Snape's silky smooth voice echoed down the hall. Draco felt sorry for her, she was about to be blasted by Snape. Never a pleasant experience. Caution overcome by curiosity, Drake peered around the corner and saw a dark figure. A familiar figure talking to his Head of House in front of a open gate. Some type of passage. Drake watched with morbid, and vaguely disgusted curiosity as Snape ran his eyes clinically over the girls body.
"You are still to skinny."
"S-S-Sir?"
"You look like a fish Miss Granger. Do shut your mouth and listen carefully. If you leave each night at nine you can evade the patrols and Filch. However, you must be back by four. The castle locks itself down at that time, a leftover security measure from the war." Once again he looked at her provocative cloths. "Bring your robe, London is dangerous at night.
"Why sir? You hate me." She was obviously confused. So was Drake.
"Very good Miss Granger. However, you also set me free and I am going to do the same for you." Drake felt as though his world was no end. Snape sounded as paternal as he got. And what was meant by setting her free? He watched as Granger hung the robe on the sword of a marble statue sitting peacefully. Walking to the open grate, she turned back to her professor.
"Don't worry sir. I can take care of myself. I can always kill them right?" The bitterness in her voice was as sharp as a kick to the kidneys. The sight of her walking through the gate however, was far worse, it was a knife in the heart. The sight of her with chocolate brown hair intertwined with red hurt, Granger had My's hair.
The sight forced the breathe out of him, and he inhaled sharply. He pressed his heard to the wall to gather his roiling emotions. He hadn't managed it before he heard,
"Come out this instant Mr. Malfoy." Drake felt hope crash. Snape had known he was there the whole time.
"Sir I was just going to go to--"
"Shut up Mr. Malfoy. Go after her, you heard the incantation. Knowing you I am sure it has been memorized. Memorize your arrival point and go after her. The same timeline applies to you. Leave before nine, and be back before four." Drake felt his mouth hanging open. "Well boy, what are you waiting for?" Snape gestured at the wall.
Clearing his throat Drake turned towards the wall and spoke the incantation, readying himself to walk through the portal. It was a way to London, a way to search for My.
"You are searching for Miss Granger Mr. Malfoy. Do not forget that. Oh, bring her the robe, it gets chilly at night." Snape pushed Granger's robe into Drake's hand and pushed him towards the portal, watching as the flabbergasted boy stepped through space.
*~*~*
"Sevrus?"
"Hello Headmaster. Snape was unfazed by the arrival of the omnipotent man.
"How did you know, I thought--"
"Surly you didn't think that you and Minerva were the only ones to keep an eye on our two wayward and blatantly oblivious students."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, being surprised was a new feeling.
"Well, Well, Well. Why Sevrus?"
"That is a far more difficult and personal question."
The two men turned and faced each other. Blue eyes looked up into black ones.
"Why did you push them Sevrus?"
"She deserves to be happy. And I have seen that he makes her happy. We both know what the phoenix curse does. She deserves something until it takes over."
"Yes Sevrus, I agree, but why did you actively involve yourself?"
Snape was silent for a moment, and his eyes focused on a point far away from the drafty hall. "I was there you know. At the Crystal Cave. I had been exposed as a traitor and spy. They were going to 'take care of me' as soon as those three fools had been killed. I was to be tortured...just like the muggles of so many years ago. I saw as the curse fell from the roof of the cave and consumed her. I watched as the phoenix controlled her temper and anger, and I watched as the fire began. I felt the fire. It burned Albus. Worse than any dark curse, worse than anything. It burned brighter and hotter than my guilt and self-loathing.
"I could feel the fire lick up my cloths and skin, felt it seat and burn my body. I felt death coming, dying with the deatheaters like I have always deserved. I stood in the cave, fire burning my skin and soul and I watched them die. Watched as Potter destroyed the Dark Lord. As young Weasly healed in a cocoon of flame, and as Lucius died crying for his son. That's when the pain grew to great. I felt a final spurt of extreme heat against my body and soul, and I passed out. I woke to cold. My body shivered in the absence of the fire. I looked around, surrounding me were the ash outlines and crumbling bodies. There were no survivors. I looked where she stood and saw nothing. They had left.
"I returned to Hogwarts as soon as I could stand. I felt fragile, as though I had been shattered and melted only to be recast into a better person. A stronger person. I am better. So you see I owed it to her. I owe her my freedom." Sevrus pulled up his sleeve and revealed his forearm. Instead of the vulgar dark mark, a scar was there in the form of a tear. What nineteen years of magic and struggle couldn't do, a girl and fire burned both the mark and the guilt form in body and soul.
"She set me free Albus. All that's left is a scar, in the shape of a tear. A healing phoenix tear. Even in her rage, consumed by the curse she healed me. Cleansed my soul in a shower of fire. Don't you get it? I owe her." He fingered the scar on his arm. Wonder in his eyes. "So you see I had to help now, there is no way this will effect my teaching method."
Dumbledore stared at the younger man with new eyes. Sevrus had been consumed by shame for many years, it seemed he was already on his way to recovery-- he made a joke.
"You have to tell her you know. She thinks that she killed everyone. Tell her you survived." Snape shook his head and walked away. He had done his duty towards Miss Granger, the rest was up to her and Draco. He smiled to himself, maybe it was up to Drake and My.
*~*~*
My felt free. Music flowed around her, her body twisted and rode the waves of sound. Every pound of the heavy gothic bass was a new experience. It was as fresh as the first time she ever danced. My had entered the club and headed straight for the floor, ignoring all of the eyes. They weren't silver. She allowed the music to wash over her, to step into a world of music and rhythm. A place to heal and to rebuild all that she worked for. The heavy thump of the beat blocked out the cries and she was able to feel the dance.
Be the dance.
...Fin for now...
A/N::Well here is chapter six. I cut it shorter than I had written on paper so the next chapter will be longer than normal. At this chapter I have reached over 110 reviews and I'd like so thank all of you so much There are some repeat reviewers that have often really made my day and I'd like to thank you by name. You guys are all so nice and I thank you for your kind words.
Thanks to:
Angelic fire, Mina-Chan 2, darkstar, fixedinsanity, foreveryours89, L'aqua, The Blue Lady1, Draco-Malfoy-Sevrus-Luva, _kamikaze899_, PsychoJo, JazzyLady, Vampiress-Alexiel, Banana Flavored Eskimo, Sweetie2.
You guys are the best.
I hope everyone has a happy holiday season and a kick ass new year.
Love to all,
Cat
