Chapter 19: China Balls
I have been doing some serious rereading of the Harry Potter series and am deeply sorry to tell you I have been spelling Hogsmeade wrong (Hogsmead). – A tip – if u didn't already notice which I bet you did [i didnt cos Im stupid] – read the mirror of Erised's inscription backwards. (Erised - desire). It's like Under milk wood (I dunno if I got the title right) and his story set in the town of Llareggub (looks typically welsh but backwards... well even the teachers didn't notice – bugger all). And I must have overlooked it a million times because I don't recollect McGonagall's hair being black!
So far: (sighs – why did I think this a smart idea when I first started doing these?!)
Hermione and Severus eat chocolate together in the castle grounds by the lake where it started... and Severus gets swallowed by the giant squid... (Just kidding, you didn't take me seriously did you?!)
In actual fact: Hermione is in a horrible self-conflict and suffering serious physiological turmoil after being burned with the dark mark (which Severus can be partly blamed for – indirectly, however he had the power to prevent it which in her eyes makes him totally to blame). She tried to push thoughts of him away because they blacken her mind. She and Draco are both now in hiding in the same enormous house (which has been sparsely described because too much has been happening for anyone to observe their surroundings yet) so, naturally, the other three decided to move in with their friends. Hermione (with Ginny's assistance) has wrapped her left forearm up in bandages so she won't have to see the... "thing".
A state of depression is by far the worst understatement that could be made for Hermione's current state of being. A depression was a mood that could be shaken. Who could shake fears and disbelief taking the form of crying fits and uncontrollable shaking? Not any normal person could such a thing but Hermione did what she could to vent her feelings. She even created her own little invention which she was aware had no right to the title of "invention". It was a simple piece of craftsmanship that took her few seconds to make and she spent hours of her time absorbing herself in creating these things until she had two crates full of them. Then she would decorate each one with a different pattern and color. It kept her mind sufficiently numbed and she did not need to think as she levitated her work and patterned it with her wand in the darkness of her room.
She kept her curtains permanently closed but took the liberty (for the consideration of her eyes) to light several candles and place them in the few high steel stands around the room. That and the tiny hints of light escaping the edges of the curtains was enough to light the room enough to see by.
That night when they had first arrived and after Ginny had left her (with fresh bandages on her left arm) she had paced the room silently, still wearing her dark blue robes that were barely able to cling to the edges of her shoulders. Replaying what had happened clearly in her mind's eye over and over again she could still not draw any other conclusion as to what had gone underway than that Severus must truly have been evil all along. Who had she been kidding? A stupid little schoolgirl crush and he had taken it and exploited it as an excuse to use her. How could he love her in such a short time? She had been lost in her confusion and happiness to see that a man of his standards and coldness would not so easily allow himself to fall in love with the first student who fancies herself the same? She was an absolute fool.
But as much as she could convince herself readily that he had never loved her she could not say the same for herself. She pleaded with her own heart for it not to be true but when she pictured his face she knew it down to her bones and cursed the feeling. It hurt to imagine him. The pain he had caused her was beyond the extent which she could have ever prepared for.
He had turned her over to the Death Eaters and made her one of them.
After her wandering around the room in endless circles until she realized she must be tired she crawled under the covers (who cared if she changed or not – for tonight it didn't matter) and, with a weak flick of her wand, extinguished the candles. It was reaching early morning and outside, out of her sight, there was a small glow lighting the horizon.
Once it was total darkness she had stared blankly at it with unfocused eyes until the weight of her feelings once again became unbearable. She was already weakened from her last break down and the lingering hint of vomit on her lips reminded her of it. Her raw watering eyes were getting more and more painful with every hour and Hermione knew that when she woke (that is, if she ever slept) she would have a hard time peeling apart her lids once they fused together.
The soft thick feeling of sadness bled through her body until finally it reached her throat and soothingly, gently constricted it until she was choked with sobs that she tried to hold back. She swallowed repeatedly but the tightness was barely relieved and came back with a vengeance a moment later. Her eyes welled with tears until she gave in to it and cried with all the emotion that she had kept back from her tears before, into her pillow.
The morning had come. But in actual fact it was early afternoon and the other habitants of different parts of the house had already eaten a very uncomfortable lunch together. She did not know this because she had no clock. All her belongings were at 11A and she supposed sooner or later Harry, Ginny and Ron would go fetch them for the two hiding people.
Ginny had come up at ten that morning to bring Hermione breakfast but was not in the least surprised to find her fast asleep with her cheek squashed against the pillow and the red rings around her closed puffed eyes where she had been crying before. She watched her for a long moment with her hair a messy sprawl around her pillow and the curtains blocking out the screaming sun. Ginny felt her heart break for her friend all over again and had closed the door softly, careful not to disturb her.
Harry had been the one to try and bring her lunch but found her in exactly the same way as Ginny had described. He watched her for a moment too, feeling a useless and pathetic friend to be able to do so little. He had taken the full tray away but had come back several minutes later with a vase full of flowers he had bought from the nearest flower shop and put them by her bed. Color was something she needed. He meant well but Hermione would later scream and throw them at the wall where the glass vase would smash and the pieces fly. However it created a twist of fate in causing her to think up her new invention.
The others had sat uncomfortably downstairs directly beneath her in the bright white kitchen, eating. Well, one could not justify the motions as eating; it was more like pecking and prodding at their food before regretfully shoving it in their mouths and swallowing hard. They kept their heads bowed over their plates and the amount of time it took them to finish their meal resulted in their food being cold before it was even half finished. Ginny had made a comment dully about how she could not believe it. It was followed by a round of agreements from all but Draco who Ginny looked at pointedly. He explained that until recently he had never known Snape to be a spy and so it was not too surprising for him to think so badly of his professor. Ginny looked back at her plate feeling worse. She had encouraged the relationship and any meddling on the part of friends was totally down to her. What would Harry and Ron think if they found out she had known before they had and had even supported them?
The rest of the mealtime conversation (if you could call it as such) included planning collecting the stuff from the flat after lunch and then after that a sad silence fell through that lasted until one by one they shuffled away. The only sounds were the empty clinking of plates.
Decimus was getting restless. Watching his new master in such a state was disturbing the black cat. He sat perched on the edge of Severus' potions workbench with his elegant tail wrapped around his legs and with his keen pointed ears pricked up he watched Severus intently with his sheer green eyes. It rarely blinked and often flicked the tip of his tail to show his discomfort.
He suddenly decided that watching his master was not going to drag him back to reality and pulled away his tail before standing. He arched his back to stretch the cricks of stiffness out.
After stretching out each of its paws in front of him, clawing at nothing, with eyes pinched shut and chest close to brushing the ground, he stood properly and looked around the room at all but its master for the first time in several hours. The time had ticked away slowly in the fire lit study. The height of the room seemed even taller somehow and the ceiling loomed over the cat and his owner.
Decimus moved away from the spot he had been resting in for hours and padded around stray pieces of parchment and quills strewn over the desk before leaping silently off of it, brushing dangerously close to the balanced vial of potion with his tail. His black silhouette flew through the air and landed softly on the cushions of his paws before trotting away, up to Severus' chair.
Severus sat in the only green chair, before the edge of the sofa. He had his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands, raven hair shadowing his features. He had sat silently and still this way for hours now and had absolutely no intention of moving again. What for? What reason did he have to live a normal existence? He had driven away the only thing worth while left in his life.
Through the gaps in his pale slender fingers he saw Decimus move up to him with tail and nose likewise in air. He blinked his sharp black eyes for the first time in what had to be at least a half hour. Decimus came right up to him and stood stiffly across from his shins as though waiting for Severus to move and make way for him to sit on his lap.
He didn't know whether or not he could find it in him to do so but somehow he pushed himself upright with a heave and leaned back against his chair. He kept his black gaze on the cat which in turn pounced and leapt up to sit in his lap.
It turned its slender body around and settled himself as a disk shape on his thighs. The weight of the cat was of little comfort but some was better than none. He was already starting to feel a little lonely without Hermione, on top of feeling like he had vomited every meal he had ever eaten. His insides were playing dangerous tricks on him. One minute he was sure there were a deep growing black hole swallowing him from the inside out and the next he thought he was so full of dirt that food was unnecessary.
The black warm fuzzy ball on his legs let out a satisfied purr despite the sad vibe pervading the whole atmosphere like smoke. How could he fix things? He pressed the back of his head against the chair. He had destroyed himself all over again. Was this the way his life was meant to be? A vicious cycle of self-destruction! Why was he the way he was?
He thought of Hermione, however painful it was to see her tear-streaked petrified face, and wondered what she must think of him now. It was without a doubt the end of a good thing. How could it not be? She had not been able to look at him and had been so scared she had vomited. How could she come up to him and kiss him as though nothing had gone wrong? It was a delusional thing to contemplate. She had to hate him and he must have driven away what good opinions she had held of him.
He closed his eyes, blocking the firelight, and listened to Decimus' soft droning purr. There was a sudden flash of a memory (as memories tend to do when under stress or sorrow) and he could remember clearly a short clip of Hermione's face grinning up at him as they walked arm in arm down the empty streets of Hogsmeade together. It was gone as soon as it came but the lingering feeling of the deepest worst kind of guilt remained and only grew, feeding on happy memories like algae.
It was his fault but it was not what he intended. He wanted to scream it out loud but he would never. He sat in silence with his eyes closed and the black cat camouflaged against his robes. He was pleading with himself he realized. It wasn't what he wanted; he repeated over in his mind trying to shake the guilt that was only adding to his list of horrid emotions. Poison felt more desirable than this! How was he to think straight ever again?
He was the foulest person he had come across, he realized. Was truly cold-hearted? He didn't want to believe it but he had let the smutty stain he had buried under his skin be imprinted in Hermione's too. He knew that this train of thought was going round in circles but he had no way to get away from it.Poison was starting to look rather tempting...
Hermione struggled to peel her eyelids apart, just as she had predicted, when she had woken early afternoon. They stung sharply at the freshness of the air. She felt flooded with the memories before she had even truly woken and they were growing clearer as she focused her gaze with her head forced into the pillow and her hair around her.
The first thing she saw was the most horrid sight she could imagine. Had the light not been filtering through gaps in the curtains then she may not have had to see the disgusting cheerfulness of the bright yellow orange and red flowers grinning wickedly at her. She glared at them thoughtfully. Somehow these flowers appeared so evil and mean. They were sunflowers and red carnations and orange-ish poppies. What a vile assortment of spiky stems and vibrant acrid colors that bled into the softness of the rest of the room.
She closed her eyes quickly to block out the foul sight. For a moment there was darkness and sweet relief behind her eyelids before an image of Severus looking baleful and obedient as that... that... that – thing dug into her and hurt her in at least a million ways. Her throat squeezed and her eyes watered under the safety of the lids and finally a couple of tears broke away and salted her already dried cheeks.
At the thought of her mark the thing under the bandages pulsated and throbbed with the after-affects of its creation. She shuddered and a sob escaped her lips. She gripped her sheets so tightly her nails hurt and pulled them up over her mouth and pressed them hard over her lips to suppress any more stray sounds of sadness.
Her stomach was growling and clenched in hunger but food was so unappetizing right now that she truly did not care what her body needed.
What was the time? Surely it couldn't be too early because her shaking had fizzled out to a mere quiver every now and then at the thought of Severus. No. She would not think that way. That... name... was to never be thought of again. However it was the most hopeless demand she could make on her mind. Severus would rule her thoughts and control her actions for weeks, if not months (possibly years?) to come.
She slowly relaxed the pressure on her mouth and pulled away the stiff linen sheets of a color she could not place in such light. It could be grey or beige or even light blue. She was pretty sure she had a strong grip on herself and the tears stopped flowing so easily from her eyes. Well, by strong she thought she at least had a better control on her rocking emotions than last night.
Last night...
She shivered uncontrollably and her whole body trembled at the memory. It worked a little to shake such thoughts because her mind went totally blank for a moment as she stared at the nothing above her with wide brown eyes.
She had to get up. Her body was starting to tingle as a sign she had been in bed too long. She did not know the time but she knew that any longer in bed would result in a sleepless night and that was the last thing she wanted. Sleep was a valuable ally not to be driven away.
She dragged herself up and out of bed against the wishes of her body which ached in complaint. The sheets slipped around her and she finally trusted some weight on her feet. A painful sting ripped through her legs but she remained relatively well balanced. She wavered and stood still. A moment for composure left her able to take another step without her sight fogging.
But before she did, she stopped and turned back to her beside table. The flowers were still there, still bleeding unwanted color into the room.
Hermione stared and stared at the vile collection of flowers. It was several moments before she pulled herself out of that dangerously calm trance when she reached forward and grabbed the vase by the neck. She picked it up and felt the smooth clear glass that gripped her sweaty palms. She twisted it around, examining it and feeling its weight. She was looking at it with apparent interest.
Her features turned bitter as she scowled and lifted the vase before putting all her strength into hurling it at the wall. It flew slowly and crystal trails of water flew out of the rim. Hermione kept staring, panting slightly from the exertion, as the glass smashed into a thousand shards and flew in line with the wall in a ripple formation. The water splashed the wallpaper (or was it paint? Who could tell in this light?) and the flowers hit the wall with a satisfying yet pitiful splat.
Hermione straightened and blinked at the wet stain that looked nothing more than a dark patch. That had felt good. The sickening sharp sound of tinkling glass rung like bells in her head and Hermione looked around in slim hope of finding another vase of flowers to smash. Of course there was none other than the pieces rocking amongst the battered plants across from her.
There were sounds of thudding footsteps as she heard the others scramble and bound up the stairs to see what the matter was. She listened clearly but did not turn to face the door as the steps thundered down the landing.
She glanced down at herself and finally noticed she was still in her robes. She had to take them off. They reflected what she was and what she wasn't. But she didn't have time. As she halfheartedly plucked the front of her robes the door slammed open over her shoulder and crashed into the wall.
"Hermione!" panted Ron and she knew they were all in the room, though her eyes stayed lowered. "Are you - OK?" Ginny rushed right past him, roughly shoving his shoulder to get by.
Hermione dropped the hands feebly holding the blue folds of material. She sighed silently as Ginny came into view to examine her. Ginny wore a look of motherly worry under her red bangs and her solemn face depressed Hermione. She turned her head a little to the left to look away from her as Ginny calmly took up her hand and squeezed it.
"You're not hurt?" she asked in softly, trying in vain to catch Hermione's bloodshot eye. Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head and tilted it further to the left as Ginny moved in front of her. She looked as blank in expression as she felt this very moment; Ginny's observations were not appreciated right now.
The opened door over her shoulder let in more light than Hermione liked over the dusty dimness but she was willing to put with it until her friends left. She knew that if she wasn't careful she would become too distanced from them. She had to let them come in as long as they pleased (the logical part of her argued) however much she longed to send them away.
"What happened here?" asked Harry stepping into her sight from her left shoulder and right past her, to the smashed glass. She watched his cautious shadow numbly with her eyes as Ginny continued to grip her hand. He gave Hermione a tender glance before treading over to the beat-up pathetic pile of bruised flowers he had bought not a few hours earlier. He blinked his bright green eyes as he recognized them and flushed a little as he turned back to Hermione with a questioning frown.
She had to speak now. This was the part where she was supposed to open her mouth and excuses and explanations were supposed to pour out. But she couldn't pry open her jaw, let alone answer what should be an obvious question.
Draco, to her utmost relief, came to her aid (so he was useful).
Hermione heard a crunching noise to her right and finally lifted her head as she jumped and she glanced over at what had startled her. Draco was walking his way through the glass pieces over by the wall with not the slightest consideration. He watched Hermione who was staring at him blankly, with cold grey eyes and nodded his understanding to her.
"It seems as though she threw her flowers at the wall..." he said blandly, keeping his gaze on the disturbed woman blinking back at him gratefully. Ginny swiveled sharply to the sound of Draco's voice and accidentally flicked her brother in the eyes with her red ponytail as he had been approaching.
Harry gulped and stared at the flowers for a long moment before looking back guiltily to his friend standing numbly, separately of her own strength. Hermione could read his emotions finely. He had bought the flowers. She felt a flicker of a pang in her heart but could not dwell on it. She was suppressing all her worst fears and memories (helped by the satisfying feeling of throwing the vase at the wall) from the previous night. If she dwelled on one little thing like this she risked being flooded with pain.
In fact she wished them gone. She wanted to break down into tears but she had caused them too much suffering already. It was her fault. If she had been intelligent enough to leave well enough alone to begin with then maybe this wouldn't have happened. Was it just some stupid little fling of her heart that carried her away? Her mind was playing more tricks on her than her heart was at the moment because her head began to spin again and the dull throb of a headache returned.
She lifted the hand that wasn't being wrung by Ginny and squashed it against her forehead to help divert the pain. At least this held back her tears safely. Harry noticed her distress despite the half-light. Ron was standing next to her eyeing the broken glass wondrously. It wasn't something he had expected of Hermione but in this situation... it should have been.
Hermione blinked at the smashed scene and the tingling feeling in her fingers where she had just held it a minute ago, unscratched. It was a peculiar feeling, but pretty soothing.
Harry heaved a box he had just packed by hand from Hermione's room. He staggered under the weight of it and his back bent dangerously backwards. His forehead glistened with sweat around his scar as he brought the heavy load (mainly books) into the main room.
He placed it as carefully as he could, letting it fall the last foot on its own, by the sofa in the center of the room, by the only other box marked 'Ginny'. It landed with a loud hollow thud that sounded as though the floor was complaining. His muscles were aching already and he felt too warm. He straightened but it was a little painful.
He turned his gaze to the sound of footsteps from Ron's room. A floating box came gliding towards him followed by Ron strolling out of the room at a relaxed pace with his raised wand in one hand and a half-eaten éclair in the other which he took a large bite out of. Harry could have slapped himself and it took a lot of self-restraint not to. They could use magic now.
The brown cube hovered beside the one marked 'Hermione' and sunk gently to the ground next to it. Harry watched, frustrated. Ron looked up from his wand and delicious éclair to the sweaty and rather flushed Harry. He raised his eyebrows right up behind his orange fringe of hair. His blue eyes raked Harry's stiff form then, to Harry's annoyance, struggled to hide a grin. There was little to smile about at these times but in such an atmosphere of bright light, an éclair in one hand and Harry's stupidity – the urge to have some form of fun was satisfied (if only a little).
Harry glowered in the way friends were supposed to. Not for the first time in his life did Harry wish for a normal, peaceful wizard life. It seemed that that would never be.
Ginny returned with Harry, Ron and a pile of boxes. She didn't stay to help them sort them and put them in their proper places. She left them at the bottom of the stairs by the front door and went up to the second level. Harry and Ron watched her go but didn't stop her. It wasn't as though she was the most helpful packer. In the time it had taken for them to complete their own and each of the two hiders, Ginny had only finished half her own room.
She trotted up the brightly lit staircase with one hand trailing along the banister.
Half way down the landing she stopped and glanced around. She could not remember too clearly which room was which. It was a satisfyingly large house. Was it the fourth or the fifth on the right or the left? She decided to take a chance with the fourth on the right first and twisted the knob carefully and peered inside.
Behind the door was a room she did not recognize: it was sparsely furnished and across from her was a large empty fireplace. It seemed as though she had found yet another living room. Before her (facing the fireplace) were pale grey comfortable looking armchairs and two-seaters. A fairly large desk-type table which she supposed was to be used for drinks or studying.
But even though this was not the room she had been searching for, she saw what she had been looking for. Draco was slumped in one of armchairs that sunk deeply at his weight and looked very snug. In his hand was a lowered book which he held in his lap but he was watching her calmly.
She slipped around the door and shut it behind her back with noisy click. Draco nodded his blonde head at her in acknowledgment and Ginny smiled unsurely in return. Her freckles had, recently, seemed to become more prominent on her pale skin.
"I've been waiting for you," Draco stated although the delight to see her was clear in the way he eyed her. Ginny came over to him, approaching him from behind. He snapped the book in his hands shut and followed her movements with his grey eyes.
"We got all the stuff. It's downstairs," she explained as she halted beside him. She bent down, brushed some of his blonde hair aside and planted a small kiss at his temple.
He waited until she had sat down in the chair next to his (taking a couple of seconds to marvel at its coziness) before he spoke again.
"There have been strange noises coming from Hermione's room since you left," he informed her. Ginny looked up with a start. Her crystal blue eyes were wide as they filled with worry. She gripped the edges of the armchair and the soft sponge was forced into almost nothing.
"Is she alright?" she asked quickly. Draco knew she was overreacting but it was in her nature to care too much. It would do her heart too much damage. He gave her an empty expression which actually would end up triggering the snowball effect because the lack of concern at her panic stung ever so slightly.
"I'm sure she is-" he started coolly but Ginny cut him off, frustrated.
"You didn't check on her?" she asked. Disbelief was the tone of her voice but her countenance was darkening a little. If he was truly worried about her then why didn't he go and see if she was alright? Draco blinked and raised his brows at her. Ginny appeared to be a little testy. He leaned back into the soft armchair and decided to drag out the pause before he answered, studying her composedly.
Ginny began to get impatient as the half seconds dragged by before he spoke. She was struggling not to feel angry. Maybe it was the tenseness of the whole situation weighing down on her so that the very small things set her off but she was starting to get irritated.
"No-" he was going to continue as to what exactly he had been hearing from Hermione's room but Ginny cut him off.
"Why not?" Ginny snapped. She was now on the edge of her seat and leaning close to the point of standing but stayed perched on the chair. Draco kept his brows raised. He would not dare point out that she was feeling a little temperamental. Ginny's face was now close to a scowl but not quite there yet. Her annoyance was as plain as her freckles and fire red hair.
"She does not need, nor I am sure would she appreciate, being checked on like an infant constantly," he said callously, with a hint of superiority. Ginny started to burn in her cheeks until she was the trademark Weasley red. She looked as though she had caught the sun in a bad way. She had picked up on his unfeeling tone all too clearly. Draco was starting to get irritated from her accusing.
"You could at least show a little concern for her!" she bit back and Draco was stunned by both the pure passion in her tone and the words that insulted him. He was definitely now irate and struggling for composure. He stiffened in his chair and stared at her. Ginny did not show the slightest regret of speaking her fears and was now completely glowering at him.
"Excuse me?" his tone was low and cold, "What more could you ask of me? Do you want me to hold her and rock her? Firstly: it is not in my nature and secondly: it would be inappropriate with you as my girlfriend. How can I win when both my choices are duds?" Ginny's blush had spread like a deadly rash and her whole face was on fire, hiding her freckles under the strong shade of scarlet.
"But you don't have to treat her like a stranger we picked up off the street!" she retorted hotly. Draco glared in return now so they were holding each others deadly gaze.
"I do not!" he spat. Ginny furrowed her brows even deeper and her knuckles were turning white from her lethal grip on the arm. "If you can recall I have not been... friends with her for long-"
"No excuse for you to treat her like vermin!" her voice an octave higher and steadily rising. Draco was enraged. He leapt up from his seat abruptly, book tumbling to the ground from his lap. Ginny almost started but kept her expression firm. He was radiating rage of hurt feelings from the very pores of his skin.
He took a step closer to her and bent down a little so that his face was in line with hers and Ginny was feeling poisonous and only a something she couldn't place stopped her from spitting in his face. She didn't know what had come over her. Normally she was quite tolerable but right now a simple greeting might result her biting someone's head off.
"Is that your opinion of me!" he hissed so icily Ginny felt a guilt somewhere underneath all that fury. The words actually touched the burning skin of her cheeks and cooled them very little. "You think so lowly of me that I may even have no heart?" his tone was barely above a whisper and bitter. He held her gaze with his steel colored eyes before Ginny turned her head away from him, unable to face him any longer without feeling awful.
She did not reply. She knew she should have spoken but her insides were alight with anger and she could give neither a positive nor negative answer without being uncertain whether it was true or not.
He straightened sharply away from her in disgust. He gave her a long hard stare which she did not return, keeping her eyes on the wooden table leg.
"Fine," he snapped suddenly, breaking the icy silence that had seemed as though it would last a good deal of time. Ginny looked up at him at last with no malice but curiosity and concern that he might do something stupid. He turned away from her as he spoke and she was forced to stare at his back, her mouth getting progressively dry. He strode over to the door and spoke over his shoulder. "If that is how you please it to be..." he said frigidly.
He flung open the door and disappeared through it. All Ginny could see was the back of his black robes as he left and then there was nothing more than the sound of his retreating footsteps, heading in the direction of the stairs.
Ginny shoved herself off of her chair too and hurried across the empty room to the wide open door and walked through it. She looked at the striding figure of Draco almost half way out of sight down the stairs then she spun on her heel and walked in the opposite direction down the hall, to Hermione's room.
She glared angrily over her shoulder as she stomped away down the dusty red carpeted landing. She lost sight of Draco but still glared and fumed, bright red in the face. Her fingers were curled into uncomfortable fists and her teeth were clenched tight. The only person right now who would not set her off like a Filibuster firework was Hermione who she could feel nothing but pity for.
There was a small muffled crash and tinkling sound and Ginny froze instantly, the look of malice dissolving from her face. It had come from Hermione's room. It must have been the noises Draco had spoken of.
She raced down the hall and her outstretched fingers had barely touched the metal of the door handle before there was another sound equal in every way to the one she had just heard. She grabbed the handle and tugged the door open.
Her eyes were immediately struck with the contrast between the brightly lit hall she was standing in and the almost darkness of her room that was kept from complete blackness by a few candles burning low in their high stands. It was that dark brown/grey fuzzy kind of dimness. Ginny saw that the curtains were still closed. The glow from the doorway she stood in created a prism of light that touched the floor.
And from where she stood, in her sea green robes, she could see Hermione's silhouette in the dimness. She was wearing muggle clothes. Her shirt was not long sleeved and revealed the wrapped bandages around her left forearm held together by a small safety pin. She was wearing a long skirt and stood with her back to Ginny, long fluffy brown hair (out of its curls) shrouding her shoulders. She was holding something out in her right hand.
Ginny stepped inside curiously and saw Hermione toss the thing in her hand into the air. It was a fairly small sized sphere. It spun in mid air then dropped back into Hermione's outstretched palm. She curled her fingers around it then pulled her arm back over her shoulder and lobbed it with all her might at the wall, which had white pieces of china sticking out of them in different places.
Ginny stood, floored. What were those things Hermione was destroying?
"Hermione?" Ginny asked unsurely. Hermione didn't answer and crouched down. Beside her feet, Ginny only just noticed, was a crate full of these things. She picked one out, a finely detailed one with ancient rune symbols on it.
"Hermione," Ginny started again, gulping a little in uncertainty as she watched Hermione chuck another at the battered wall and it smashed sharply. "What are those things?"
"Nothing," Hermione finally spoke and her voice sounded a little hoarse from misuse. She stood up again carefully and examined the sphere before tossing it straight up like the last to feel its weight. "Just some nothings... created to be destroyed." She spoke with a slight bitterness as if comparing herself to them as she swung her hand back over her shoulder and released it so that it flew into the wall. There was another shattering noise and Hermione sighed.
She turned around to look at Ginny but was forced to lift a hand to shade her squinting eyes for the brightness Ginny was standing in.
"Come in and shut the door," she ordered bluntly. Ginny did as she was asked, snapping the door shut behind her and casting the room back into a worse darkness. Hermione gestured to the bed for Ginny to sit on with her left hand, exposing her bandaged arm but not really caring.
Ginny wandered over to the king-sized bed. She sat down on it and it sunk a little under her weight on the edge. She placed her hands on either side of her and leaned forward a little, staring intently at Hermione. Hermione did not pay her studying much attention.
"How are you feeling?" she asked nervously, wondering whether it was the best question to ask someone in her situation. It turned out to be so because Hermione had plucked another ball and she clenched it tightly in her fist at the question before hurling it. She glared at the trailing blur as it flew out of her hand.
"Oh, wonderful," she snapped sardonically as the thing crashed and broke. The shards bounced down the wall to the floor. "Just peachy. I mean I have the most feared symbol burned into me forever and it turned out the man I loved who I risked loosing my friends over turned out to never love me back. Of course, I feel great!" Her last few syllables quavered and she felt that horrible lump come and block her throat.
"Oh dear," mumbled Ginny in a guilty panic. She shouldn't have asked. She bit her lip as Hermione struggled to fight back tears. She didn't want to cry while Ginny was here. She didn't want to cry, period! It was unfair the way something seemingly so nice had turned out to be so foul. "Hermione," Ginny started, contradicting what Hermione had said. "You did not stand the risk of loosing your friends. You should know us better than that. We will always stand by you no matter what..."
Hermione looked up hopefully and apologetically. "Thanks Gin..." But her expression was still numbly stuck in the form of solemnity. Ginny waved a hand to prove the words were nothing new.
"But Hermione..." Ginny shuffled a little, uncomfortably on the spot. Hermione looked at her warily. "About Snape..."
"Don't say his name!" she hissed and flung another sphere at the wall. It back-spun then shattered. Ginny looked guiltily at her lap but she could not help say what she had to say. She bit her lip for a moment and Hermione did not look back at her, facing the speckled wall with broken pieces sticking out in odd angles.
"Sorry..." she muttered. "But, Hermione, I think you've misunderstood." Hermione shot her a dark glance and looked away again. "I was certain he loved you too..." Hermione laughed a little but it was a horrid hollow sound. Ginny looked up in surprise at the noise, her blue eyes wide in mystification.
"No one was fooled more than I," she spat bitterly as she bent down to pick up yet another. Ginny felt a terrible churn in her stomach at her words and her bland tone. She gripped the china sphere tightly in her hand and looked to the bowed head of Ginny, with her red hair dangling around her. "Think about it Ginny... He was the last person in the world to fall in love just like that with comfortable ease. He was just using me like the piece of filth that he was and when Voldemort asked for me he did not hesitate to hand me over. I just got caught up in it, blinded by emotions... I won't ever let that happen a-gain," she finished by hurling the ball at the wall with all her might and it smashed so forcefully that Ginny was forced to duck as a piece flew right over her head.
She looked over her shoulder at the stray piece guardedly as she spoke again, worrying whether or not there would be any more close shaves. "But, Hermione..." Was it prudent to ask? She was dying to know. "Do you love him?" She turned back to look at Hermione with pure inquisitiveness. Hermione's blood went cold but she had expected this question sooner or later. She shuddered violently and glared at Ginny.
"I hate that vile snake and his hollow heart!" she retorted then totally betrayed herself by giving up her firm glower and sighing tiredly. She crouched for another ball and plucked it up gently and continued with exhaustion lining her tone. "But, yes, I love him." She looked away from Ginny's eyes resignedly.
A soft, almost silent sob escaped her lips and the ball slipped from her fingers straight down to the floor where it survived with nothing more than a split in one side. She quickly buried her face in her hands to hide herself from Ginny. Ginny reacted as she naturally would. She leapt up off the bed and was by her side in seconds, comforting her and stroking her bushy hair and Hermione failed to force herself out of this ridiculously weak state.
Hermione gave Ginny a half-hearted shove but Ginny stayed stuck to her. She was too distracted to know whether she cared or not.
She finally managed to find it in her to pull her face out of her hands and Ginny (smartly) stepped aside to give her room to breathe at last. She looked at Ginny vacantly with her eyes holding that look that simply broke Ginny's heart. It was the look of sadness mingled with slight fear at nothing in particular. She lowered her hands and swallowed several times before deciding herself to be up to speaking.
"Ginny," her voice shook a little but it was urgent as though she had been wanting to get it off her chest, "that is what has been eating me up inside a thousand times more than this dumb mark... I HATE him so much," her voice was on the brink of breaking down into sobs. Ginny shushed her a little but Hermione waved her sounds away with her hand. "I want to hate him without missing him like hell..."
"Don't worry, Hermione..." Ginny comforted her as best she could but the advice she was about to give she was afraid of being a downright lie, "Time will help heal it..." Hermione lapped it up and nodded sullenly.
Sigh... Oh happy ending... where have you gone... [''im getting old and i need something to rely on...''] (thinking of a song - I'm not revealing the ending to you yet!) There is this one scene which I really want to get to! (Yes, it is happy, don't worry.) It's not the ending (although I like that too) but this thick stuff really puts me in the glooms.
to tell u the honest truth - i havent totally completed chapter 20 (eech - im getting ahead of myself giving you this chapter) nearly have but I've got no more nuts stored from my holiday and day after tomorrow is school for the first time - ill be new and theres tons of work ill have to catch up on seeing as its my gcse year and they teach a different system so i have two years work to do in one year and good grades to get - expect the speed of uploads to go down from now (im sorry). U know, theres nothing I would like better than to write all day (except a real live Snape but lets face the odds).
Nice people cheer me up and make me keep writing!
Hugs (big tight ones to make you feel brighter), Snakecharmer
PS: ur all too nice! Blush Not a single flame yet!!