Chapter 21: The Comfort Spot and the Burning.
Leaving out the "so far"s from now on.
"Lately I've been feeling down, I don't get around much anymore... So I just spend my time alone, waiting for the phone to ring... And I keep thinking of you, I miss the language that we speak when we don't even talk... - ... you never told me I would feel lonely without you, you're not supposed to make me cry... – And I never loved someone like this before... - I gotta stop thinking of you..." Anouk Stop Thinking
Ooh yay!! The HAPPINESS at LAST – well not immediately – any more depressing stuff and u know it would be absurd... so say hello to the end of an era. (Except why do I still feel miserable – o rite – no Severus...) Take note: a phoenix's song is supposed to strike courage into the good and fear into the evil hearts – how does Severus react to it. (I listen to a lot of slow stuff with these chapters – I dunno but it REALLY sets the tone – for example Metallica – Nothing Else Matters – really perfect, or Hello – Evanescence).
I know when I get a chapter I've been waiting for I tend to read it quickly and hungrily (sloppily) so it is downright hypocrisy when I advise you take your time with this chapter. Is this the end?! What a contrast this chapter is!
Peacefulness and serenity surrounded his sleep in a thick shade of soothing emotionless unconsciousness. When he was torn from it abruptly, he at first doubted whether it hadn't already been a disturbed and weak state of mind.
He was pulled upright, with a silent gasp for air in the middle of the night. The covers fell from his chest and he bent over in the dark, staring at the sheets and realizing where he was, what was going on and why he had woken. He couldn't see anything but dim outlines of his bed and in the mirror on the wall, the silhouette of him perched forwards, long hair falling straight beside him.
It did not all come back in a horrid flood but in pieces for him to understand while he caught his uneasy breath.
Then came the realization... along with the guilt and emptiness.
There was a pounding sting like some horrible insect was pumping voluminous amounts of venom into the underside of his arm where the mark was burning from red to black. That dreaded mark, the cause of his destruction; everything he had ever lived for had been swallowed by this horrid mistake. Nothing he had ever said or done could take back the curse of ensued duty.
It was a summons.
When he grasped this, something in his mind slipped and he became detached from reality. All his next actions were halfhearted and automatic as he dragged himself from his bed, pointed his wand at the fire which flared up, and got changed into his robes.
Decimus, who Severus had completely forgotten, lifted his head sleepily to observe through slit green eyes as his master reached for a jar on the stone mantel. He let out an overlarge yawn of protest at such an early arousal and flatted his ears to his head. He refused to shift from his curled up position of warmth and comfort so was forced to attract Severus' attention by the only means left to him.
Severus had dug a hand into jar of floo and replaced it when he heard a loud mew from his bed. For a split-second his black eyes focused sharply as he spun round. The coiled ebony cat sat at the foot of the bed, looking up at him questioningly.
He released some of his tension by sneering viciously at the docile creature and growling through gritted teeth "What are you smirking at?" before he turned back to the licking flames and showered it with a pinch of pale green-silvery powder.
She actually shrieked in her sleep as she was painfully separated from her slumber. She tore apart from the replenishing state of mind feeling scared and in pain. Why, she couldn't understand. Her sound, sharp and earsplitting was trapped by her four walls and no one beyond the landing heard her cry. She was alone in the dark and what daylight she had seen in her dreams had dissipated into a colorless haze in her mind.
Hermione's breaths were coming in pants but slowing quickly as she recalled she was sitting safe in bed, tangled in her sheets and hair forming a matted tangled brown pillow beneath her head. Solitude. It rained down on her as though from the skies and instantly she knew she was truly alone. She stopped struggling for air.
Breathing softly, eyes searching wildly in the blackness for some excuse for her abrupt awakening, she calmed her racing heart and noticed that she had began to break out in beads of sweat on her forehead and the back of her neck.
Another shockwave of whatever had woken her streaked through her again, as if to reveal itself to her confused mind. It was a ripple of electricity that stung so badly it felt as though the flesh was peeling away under the strain.
It ended as soon as it had come and Hermione found herself bent double, upright in bed, eyes pinched shut, teeth clenched as she gripped the bandages with all the strength of her grip. She gasped and let go as though the action had burned her in a completely different way.
Looking around her, half hoping, half dreading being intruded upon, she took large heaving gulps of air to restore stillness to her system.
She returned her thoughts to the throbbing pain of extents she could never managed to imagine from a simple mark. Severus put up with this constantly, without a word of complaint? It still was radiating a heat much worse than she had suffered the night this symbol had been imprinted into her.
It must be the call. It had to be. She had, in her wallowing, overlooked this small entailment... How could she? For as long as there was Voldemort, she would endure regular doses of pain whenever he so desired his dearest followers at his side.
She wanted to retch, the way she had retched when this pivotal event went underway. But she would not let herself fall so far. If every time there was a meeting she would fall back in that dismal pit she would never crawl out again in her right mind. She had to get over this.
In the darkness, her eyes adjusted piteously and gave her a dim outline of her arm. It hurt in ways one would never know.
Tentatively, she reached for the safety pin which held the strands of cloth together. She tugged at it lightly and when the amount of pain did not increase (though nor did it decrease) she yanked on it hard until it tore from the bandages with a satisfying ripping sound. The pin came loose in her palm and she dropped it without a care. It landed somewhere beside her on the bed.
Not wasting anymore precious moments, she scrabbled to tear away at the threads until the wrappings were nothing more than a pile of shredded mesh around her blanket.
There is was.
Glowing slightly in the dark she could just about make out the cursed mark. She swore under her breath at it as she grabbed her arm, around the tattoo to that it wasn't visible anymore beneath her own lethal grasp.
She heaved herself out of bed with all the spare energy she could muster. There was no way she was going back to sleep. This pain just drove everything from her mind. She would go to the kitchen, where the fresh bandages were kept about the cabinet. From there she would play it by mood. If she felt like returning, she would.
Slipping from her room, silently, she shut the door behind her and crept along the corridor, clutching her left forearm excruciatingly.
She managed to make her way through the blackness to the stairs and stepped down them carefully, so as not to arouse anyone else, and successfully managed to steal into the kitchen. The door swung closed behind her without a sound.
Her eyes, roving madly around her, deciphering what all the looming menacing shadows truly were, landed upon the sink.
She approached it and held her arm under the tap, releasing her hold on it. There were deep imprints where her fingers were as she brandished the mark, unabashedly in the dark and with her other hand twisted the stiff faucet until a harsh stinging, cleansing rope of icy clear water pelted down onto the pain.
It was unbelievably refreshing. The heatedness was neutralized – even numbed – by the flow now dribbling down to the sleeve of her pajamas rolled up round her elbow. She hardly noticed, closing her eyes to double the sensation, savoring the relief.
She stayed there for an unknown length of time in the pitch blackness with her outstretched left arm exposed to the pounding water in the sink. It was only when she was certain that the throbbing and heat would not return that she slowly, regretfully, opened her eyes to look down at the mark.
As she pulled her arm gently away from the flow and rose it to the half light of the stars from the crack in the net curtains the water trickled coldly down to the tips of her fingers and dripped steadily.
A rising feeling in her heart told her she was calm and safe and could return to bed without another thought. But a little something in the back of her mind (little but powerful) convinced her she was past the point of sleep.
Her large brown eyes raked the room until finally she made out the cabinet in the far end of the room by the fridge, next to the only window. Sure as she could be, there was a bundle of fresh bandages waiting for her to use.Making her way into the moonlit area of the room, she lowered her left arm and raised the other to reach for the pile of cloth. But half way, in mid-movement, her outstretched fingers froze and retracted slightly. She bit her lip nervously as she hesitated and glanced down at the grinning heinous skull, baring its teeth and the vile snake protruding from its mouth. It was black but fading into a red rapidly.
She lifted her heavy head to look at the bandages and something made her draw back her arm. What it was that made her do it was unbeknown to her but it was more of an impulse than a decision. She looked away without another thought in case she would stand, torn for hours deciding what to do. It would be better to see the mark and accept that it was there.
It was there.
She shivered in the pale starlight and walked back over to the shelves above the dripping tap.
From them she dragged out a glass jar and cup and filled the jar with ice cold water with the intention of spending the rest of the night away in the first room she found with the discovery channel.
But the thing was, the second the glass jar had passed the lip of the shelf she could not remember anything until she found herself, tall cold glass wrapped in her fingers, slouched in front of the enormous widescreen cinema, leaning against a particularly large gold and scarlet pillow, heavy feeling of sleepiness crushing her chest and eyes drooping as she found herself staring at a particularly boring documentary about some nutter with a love for scorpions and was describing their good traits.
Hermione breathed deeply to shift the weight from herself but didn't manage to.
So there she sat, in the dark, with the enormous screen blaring colors of savannas and sweltering heats while Hermione drifted in and out of concentration, sipping occasionally and staring, staring unblinkingly.
And for many hours, though she lost track of when it had melted from a documentary on crawlers to plate tectonics, she was bathed in nothing more than the light of the television alone.
Slowly, very slowly, a dim glow poured into the room and steadily grew until it was the first light of dawn. The different light brightened her face between a fussy frizz of bed hair and revealed with more clarity the puffy redness of her eyes. Each blood vessel in her eyes stood out from a sleepless night before a cinema, gaze out of focus.
'Soon it will be light enough for me to study,' she thought dimly when she realized the sun was coming up, blinking some of the clear hue out of her eyes and regaining a slight form of awareness. Her frail frame what stiff and aching.
She shifted herself into a more upright position to wake herself up better and what should catch her wary gaze but the mark itself. It was as if her eyes could not keep off of it. She should never wrap it up ever again if she wanted to grow strong enough to return to her old life. The thing she knew in her heart, though she tried to convince herself otherwise, was that she could never truly have her old life back.
It was down to a raw red, a color she had never observed it as before and its huge empty sockets stared right back up at her from beneath her skin.
She stared at it. Staring was soon becoming her only ability, for she felt she could do nothing else.
The more she studied it, the closer the realization came that she was trying hard to overlook. She tried to tear her eyes away but couldn't. The enormous screen was pounding out empty facts and long winded explanations about the obvious and somehow she failed to hear a word of it while entranced by the foul symbol.
Eventually she accepted it: no matter what she tried to tell herself, she knew down to the deepest particle within her that Severus had suffered mortally tonight because of her... Because of him... Either way the thought held less comfort than it should have. She found herself worrying for his health. He should have gone to Madam Pomfrey... if he hadn't, which is what she could expect with a man of such pride, then he could still be dealing with the after effects. She knew the meeting had finished ages ago. How she knew, she could not tell.
Something dampened her cheek and brought her back to reality. She found her eyes watering badly and a horrid feeling in her throat and chest. It was as though someone had dug a hand between her ribs and was crushing her heart in its fist while the other hand choked her slowly. It was the most horrid feeling she could recall: the deepest sadness which somehow was more powerful than her own previous self-pity (something she had thought unachievable).
The crushing feeling did not go away and she buried her face in her hands to smother her tears.
Hours later, with the rest of the household waking, she had gathered herself together enough for nothing to be suspected of her early rise or its cause. She even smiled at them as they entered the kitchen one by one to find her settled at the far chair of the white table, cupping a mug of steaming coffee resting on the table.
The coffee went cold in her hands without her drinking anything of it. No one noticed. Her spirits brightened in her friends' cheery atmosphere. If they had known and shared her gloom then she might as well retreat to her room. But the more she talked, the more she managed to push her early morning worries away from her mind and her smile became more and more easy.
It was obvious the others were elated by her apparent recovery and doing all they could to make her smile and she appreciated it more than they could understand.
Harry and Ron would openly tease each other for Hermione's enjoyment and Ginny was grinning away and readily insulting the two of them as well. Draco looked like it was taking all his self-restraint to bite his tongue.
Another cheering sight for Hermione was the fact Ginny and Draco were sitting together and whispering to each other in undertones while Harry or Ron engaged her in conversation. Hermione's weariness slowly left her bloodshot eyes and the sleepy heaviness eased, though unforgettable traces remained.
But, considering what happened only a few hours ago, it had to be one of the most enjoyable breakfasts she had ever had. Maybe it was because of recent events that everyone in the room found the morning to be so pleasurable.
Hermione found the thing that completely topped it was Ginny's brightly lit face as she stifled giggles and Draco's small smile and how Ginny was back to full spirits. It made her shattered heart feel ready to burst with joy that it looked as though she may very well get a clear shadow of her old life back.
After breakfast (which lasted about an hour after the food was finished) Ron asked her to follow him, with the remains of a grin on his face.
She followed with curiosity and Harry followed as well to see what Ron was talking about.
He led them through the downstairs hall and to the base of the stairs, which they climbed in order, Hermione still in her pale turquoise pajamas. Harry, behind her, kept shooting inquiries at Ron who ignored him like a fly.
They walked down the landing side by side, Hermione in the middle. She was still with messy hair, not having yet bothered to fix herself up, but Ron and Harry were both dressed up in neat robes.
They finally stopped at a room Hermione could not remember (then again she could hardly remember any of them) when Ron held out a hand. Harry raised his black brows at the door.
Ron shoved it open and both Hermione and Harry leaned closer to get a better look at the room. It was unremarkable in comparison with the rest of the house. Towards the back of the room were armchairs and tables (which compared strikingly with Trelawney's attic) and another screen against one wall which did not spread its full length.
Ron went in and both followed, sharing a perplexed look.
Severus had had it. Depression and wallowing had left him for all it was worth and now he was filled with bitter anger. He was angry at Lucius, at Dumbledore and most of all at himself. Lucius he would deal with later, and take the deepest pleasure in it, but for now, since he could not quite understand how he would yet deal with himself, he would deal with Dumbledore.
Dumbledore: the wise know-all who's judgment was valued and hardly ever wrong. Why had something so flawed managed to escape his sharp eye? Had he intended something like this to happen? Had he deliberately tried to split the two of them apart when presented with the perfect opportunity? To say the least, Severus was paranoid and at the point of raving.
He stood outside Dumbledore's office door with the most putrid black glower scarring his face as he rapped sharply on the wood.
He had tolerated physical torture until he had been left with nothing more than an occasional twitch in his side. How much longer he would suffer pointlessly he could not stand. Pain did not humble him. Pain angered him.
The door swung open of its own, revealing Severus standing stiffly, tall and clad in his long flowing black robes, rigid with rage.
Without waiting for invitation, he stormed straight into the oval room, pausing only to slam the door shut behind him. It banged angrily off the wall and swung right back at him. Dumbledore was looking up from a half written document with a long eagle quill balanced loosely in his fingers and a knowing look in his eyes.
"This has gone on long enough! You have been trying to destroy me for too long and I have just sat by allowing the worst to fall through in a self-pitying daze! I won't tolerate any more of this. I thought you trusted me to some extent, Dumbledore, though it be small. I demand to know Hermione's whereabouts!" Severus barked, striding right up to the desk and looming over the old man. Dumbledore was unfazed enough to not even blink. He had been expecting this visit eventually.
"Severus," he said calmly and evenly and infuriating Severus even more as his shoulder muscles seized up, "I trust you with my life. I am not her secret keeper so I cannot give you her whereabouts. It is her decision..." Severus' sharp black eyes glinted dangerously.
"Then you will go and talk to her and explain," he ordered bluntly, straightening a little, commanding a sense of power. But a little uncertainty filled his voice. "I can't see why she would not want me to speak for myself..."
Dumbledore paused, looking at Severus compassionately while he glowered straight back. He knew this man had been through more than anyone should and having to explain things to him was the last thing he wanted to do.
"She is wary, heartbroken and afraid," Dumbledore explained wearily, pushing his spectacles further up his crooked nose with a long finger. Severus blinked coldly finding his statement to be more than obvious.
"Afraid? She has good reason to be afraid now she has been marked by the dark lord himself," he said impatiently and was confused when met with a sad look of pity on the old man's face behind his long silver beard.
"No," he said quietly, stroking the mustard bird's head with one hand and not catching Severus' eye, "She is afraid of you-"
"What?" he thundered "Why do you say that? Have you seen her? Did she tell you so?" All his words were in quick angry succession and he glared at Dumbledore with all the spite within him.
"Severus calm yourself. You will get all your answers." Severus settled himself huffily and sunk abruptly into the nearest armchair, arms laying on rests. He tapped his slender fingers on the edge of the rest with his right hand, scowling darkly at Dumbledore, waiting for an answer. "I have not seen Hermione herself-"
"Then you have no right to judge!" he spat. Dumbledore overlooked the malevolence with ease and gave Severus a penetrating blue stare which Severus readily returned with one of his most feared gouging stares.
"When I visited the house she was either asleep or in no state to be disturbed but from what I have been told her torment comes not from the mark but from what she considers the deepest betrayal... Ronald Weasley told me of how he had had a peculiar conversation with Miss Granger in which she told him of what was truly irking her..." Severus' anger melted with his hunger for information but his glare stayed strong.
"When was this?" he snapped.
"About a month ago..."
"And what did she say?" he probed, feeling furious at Dumbledore for not illuminating enough. His fingers had stopped tapping the edge of the chair, which was now suffering his powerful claw-like grip. He tried not to give Dumbledore the satisfaction of dangling information before him like bait and forcing him to degrade himself... or reveal himself. Either way, one was just as bad as the other.
"That is confidential to Hermione. She did not expect him to tell even myself. But I assure you it would be for the best if you did not see her, for she might attack you..." Severus sat silent and stunned. "She is convinced that she never really knew you and it would be better if she recovers of her own. Seeing you would stir up old emotions that she is trying to teach herself were wrong. It might well be her destruction. I'm sorry Severus..." Severus stared blankly at Dumbledore with raven eyes like he didn't, couldn't comprehend what he was saying. "I think it would be better if you let Hermione move on..."
What was Dumbledore saying? Severus needed to take a moment to think what he asked would entail. His mind kick-started and reared into action. Possibilities and explanations were flying through his head.
"Surely if she is so distraught it means that there was something deep? I can't just let her go," he said, brain working fast.
"There may well have been but if there was then now it pains her," he said with an odd firmness to his tone. "No matter how deep it goes I feel that it would be too much to ask to have what you once did back again. I know you agree, Severus..." Fawkes, perched on Dumbledore's desk, let out a horrid queer note that rippled right through him and left him feeling more confused than he had already been.
"I agree," he said very slowly, forebodingly after a hesitation. Dumbledore was watching him with concern and possibly grim pride. "This is my fault, isn't it?" He looked pointedly at Dumbledore, daring him to deny the truth.
"Severus," he begun, sadly, "It will always be more my fault than yours because I had the possibility to see flaws in a plan that a creator is almost certain to overlook. I could have prevented it and it should have been obvious but somehow my old mind must be failing me..."
Severus hardly heard a word Dumbledore said. He was looking somewhere around the clawed foot of his desk but not truly seeing it. His black eyes diluted and his hold on the chair was down to nothing and he could hardly recall feeling this... weak.
"What must she think of me?" he muttered, deathly quiet. Dumbledore had plenty of room in his heart and felt incredibly for the wreck of what was never more than a proud shell of a man.
"I hear she still worries on your behalf... and if the feeling is mutual then it will do you well to know she has begun to emerge from her hiding hole..." Dumbledore said kindly, continually stroking Fawkes which trilled horribly.
He did not know what he was feeling when those words registered themselves. Deep within him some kind of clash or battle of emotions was playing tricks with his heart. Hermione was recovering. It struck up some kind of warmth to his cold insides. She was better off without him. And with it the warmth turned meek and soggy.
It was his fault; if he had never allowed anything to happen then neither of them would be like this. How foolish of him to allow her to get mixed up with himself in the first place. Numbly, he made a mental note to be more reclusive in the future.
"Severus," Dumbledore spoke quietly, giving him a piercing look, "Don't do anything rash... I trust you," he reiterated with that firm warning wrapped cozily within a compliment.
"Don't do anything rash..." he echoed darkly, avoiding Dumbledore's eyes. "What more is there for me to do when I cannot see Hermione?" Dumbledore chose to ignore that certain comment, not wanting to plant ideas.
Severus knew it was time for him to go. He forced himself up by the armrests and looked around the bright circular room sourly as he stood.
"You are strong. I know you will be alright..." Dumbledore said encouragingly as Severus turned his back on him.
"You're jesting..." Severus said meekly with nothing but hope backing his sarcasm.
Ron's mystery turned out to be nothing more than a playstation. He had been trying to figure out how to work it for weeks and had finally achieved his goal the previous day. Both she and Harry had laughed outright when Ron explained. It turned out he had officially been turned into an addict, like so many others. To quote his words: "Those muggles have been holding out on us..."
Harry humored him by challenging him to several games and Hermione watched from a squashy armchair. When Harry begun to tire of it, Hermione sportingly agreed to play a game, at which she lost spectacularly, to Ron's absolute delight. He had found another thing she wasn't perfect at.
Harry, grinning at Hermione for loosing so badly, found enough desire to take over again after her at her protests at how pointless and mind-numbing games like these were.
Both men, sitting cross-legged in their robes nudging each other's shoulders when the other lost and grinning and laughing amused Hermione to no end. She could observe her two friends for hours. They looked no older than eleven with identical smiles lighting their faces boyishly and that classic carefree air. Severus, though still in her thoughts, became of less importance when she reasoned. How would mourning him make her move on? It wouldn't. She had to forget him. She was trying, unsuccessfully, true, but achieving more than she had before.
She was channeling some of their light mood and was elated but this did not show entirely in her face. It didn't need to for boys to understand that she was rapidly regaining her charisma and zest.
But the incident of the playstation (which lasted until lunch) was minute compared to the way the household spent that late, hot August afternoon.
"We have a pool?!" Hermione echoed in disbelief when Ginny had spoken to her (in the process of shoving Hermione down the landing at the back). Ginny gave her another hearty push and Hermione tripped a couple of steps forward and continued to look over her shoulder at Ginny's freckly face.
"We do," Ginny beamed and Hermione stubbornly tried to stand her ground when Ginny pushed her by the shoulders again. "Will you move?!" she snapped with mock impatience. Hermione blinked and yielded to the request, allowing herself to be chivvied along the hall to her bedroom.
Ginny had a bag slung around her wrist that continually knocked Hermione's thigh sharply and she eyed it curiously as they squashed through her doorway into her bedroom side by side. Ginny herself had her hair tied back in a high ponytail, excluding her bangs and wore a cheerful expression, as though about to get something she had been looking forward to.
Hermione, once deep enough within her room to have her own breathing space, turned to face Ginny, who had taken the bag off of her wrist and was now opening it before her. Her whole appearance clashed horribly with the blood red wall behind her.
She dug into the bag and her hand must have closed on something she had been searching for because she looked back up at Hermione's lost looking expression.
"I knew you didn't have one so I got one for you as well..." she said, pulling out the subject of conversation from the bag. At first sight Hermione thought it was nothing more than a fistful of some latex material but turned out to be a red bikini. Hermione raised her brows at it skeptically and gave it a mild look of disgust. "Don't look at me like that. I'm wearing one too!"
Hermione dropped the expression but continued to look skeptical.
She was even more skeptical minutes later when she was changed into what she considered practically nothing and had forced her frizz into a ponytail. Ginny had reappeared in her room moments later, changed into her own white one. Hermione looked down at herself and then back up at Ginny with a stubborn frown, at which Ginny stepped forward, caught her by the wrist and dragged her away down the stairs, pausing only to collect a couple of beach towels hanging on the banister.
Hermione felt disinclined to jump into a pool, leaning towards a cozy nap in her warm dry bed.
She let Ginny lead her, without complaint, by her right wrist down, out through the back glass sliding door by the kitchen and down a paved path which led around the corner of the house, out of sight. Hermione looked around in wonder – forgetting her outfit entirely. It was a hot day, the final burst of sunshine before autumn started to creep up on them. The leaves were that darkening green on the trees which lined the edge of the large lawn at a distance. The lawn itself was grand and nothing compared with the size of the forest beyond it. She wanted to explore it but when barefoot and in the clutches of an enthusiastic Ginny, that was virtually impossible.
She watched it longingly until they rounded the sun-warmed bricks that marked the corner of the house. Once it was blocked from view she looked back to Ginny, who had slowed, and saw the reason.
"Oh..." was all she could say when she saw the enormous pool, tiled with dark blue tiles that gave the water a dark crystal effect as it rippled under the hot breeze that was attacking Hermione's skin. It was sunk deep into the ground and reached depths she could not see and three heads were already sticking out of the water, the clear liquid dripping down from their soaking hair on their faces. All were watching her, only slight smiles and each of their eyes on Hermione's left arm.
She noticed their gaze and flushed slightly, hiding her arm behind her back as she and Ginny stopped by the edge of the pool, lukewarm water licking their toes tantalizingly.
Their eyes grew serious at the sight of the mark. Until now they had only seen it on her arm on that eventful night. It had only been that morning when she had removed her bandages and she had made a point to unroll her long sleeves of her pajamas before they entered the kitchen. They hadn't known she would not be wearing the bandages and were caught off guard.
Draco was the first to recover, mainly because of Ginny's presence and her... attire. Ginny, unblushingly, let go of Hermione's wrist at last without looking back at her.
She took a couple of steps back from the pool and Hermione watched with halfhearted interest. She had not noticed the coldness in the warm air under the humid yellow sun. She look a running leap forwards and tucked her legs into her chest just in time before she hit the water with great noise and disappearing under a tidal wave of water which splashed Hermione up to her lower thighs and some of the grass around the path. Hermione recoiled from the sensation but it seemed that the men had gathered themselves enough to fake ignorance of the mark.
The noise disturbed a murder of crows that had collected on the grass nearby and they all took off at once, cawing loudly in a rustle of wings.
Ginny's head broke the surface of the water again and she flicked her sopping ponytail out of her eyes. Flecks of water spattered the other three and Ginny turned back to Hermione.
"Come on! It's not that cold," Ginny urged, motioning with her hand for Hermione to follow suit. Hermione raised her brows doubtfully. She had no intention to jump in like her. Harry and Ron were now beaming at her and nodding their agreement to Ginny's words. Ron's hair was distinctly darker when wet.
She compromised by crouching down and slipping her legs into the water, which, true to Ginny, was hardly warm. She then pushed herself off the edge and sunk into the water and Harry and Ron had already disappeared under it. Hermione wondered how quickly she could escape as she treaded water.
But, realizing she wasn't about to be let off so soon, she began to swim a little.
It took a grand total of ten minutes for the three males to bore of laps and they all stopped in the shallows, looking at Ginny and Hermione swim. Each of them shared the same unspoken idea but didn't dare utter it in case it would be improper to play so rough.
Once both girls had come to join them in the shallows, which were actually deep enough to reach their necks, whereas for the men it only reached about their chest, temptation overwhelmed them.
It was Draco that actually started what was inevitable. All three men were bored and what could be more entertaining? He caught Ginny around the middle, and catching her totally by surprise, she did not retaliate as he lifted her, as though she was light as a feather right out of the water. There was a look of uncertain shock on her face as Draco smirked evilly and threw her right into the air where it seemed as though she was frozen for a moment, arms flayed, before she crashed into the tepid water with time for no more than a squeak of surprise.
Harry and Ron were grinning at Draco with something that resembled gratefulness and he nodded at them. It was like a silent thank you shared between them.
As Ginny came back out of the water, sputtering and blue eyes wide in shock, Hermione could not help laugh.
Her laughter was cut off abruptly by a pair of strong arms wrapping themselves around her waist in the thick water at which she gasped.
"Think it's funny, do you? How would you like it if it happened to you?" Harry said impishly into her ear with mock seriousness and Hermione shrieked as he lifted her clean out of the water, trailing streams through the air. Ron jeered and laughed. Draco was busy in pursuit of Ginny who had seen that moment as a chance to escape.
Harry did not drop her like Ginny but instead pulled her back down into the water which felt cool and fresh against her skin, with him and held her under for a few seconds before releasing her. She thrashed about in his grip and when he released her she pushed through the water until she reached the hot air. Breaking free and blinking water out of her eyes, looking around in the bright light. Harry and Ron were laughing together and Ginny was as well.
She had swum quite far away but paused to watch Hermione and her giggles cost her dearly because Draco caught up with her the next moment and pounced on her. Her sounds died as she was dragged down with Draco into the deep water with a last look of disbelief and desperateness.
Both reappeared. Draco was holding Ginny in his arms by a hand at her back and under her knees. She was clinging onto his neck for dear life as though it would save her and water ran down them. Ginny spat out a long rope of it and Draco watched her like an executioner at the gallows, giving her the opportunity to speak a final word in her defense before carrying out the deed.
Ginny opened her mouth angrily and Draco raised his brows as though he wasn't about to listen to a single word she said.
Hermione grinned and Harry and Ron smirked mischievously.
"Draco Malfoy, you filthy little rat!" Ginny started furiously and sternly, sounding identical to her mother, "Don't think you are getting away with th-"
Splash!
Draco had cut her off in mid-sentence by leaning back into the water suddenly and pulling Ginny with him because she was clinging so tightly to his neck. Her last word was drowned by both water and laughter. Hermione failed to stifle a bout of chuckles. The two others were for some peculiar reason subdued in their snorts and snickers.
Harry's emerald eyes were glinting and so were Ron's blue and both of them turned to look at Hermione again, both with identical expressions that read: 'Are you looking at me?'
Hermione thought it would be worth it to try and flee their clutches safely and so quickly turned and made for the far end of the pool. Harry and Ron mutually decided it would be more sporting to allow her a head start and watched her swim away for a few moments before following. Both men were much more strongly built and would have caught up with her easily with their ability to plough water had Hermione not been intercepted.
She had actually touched the far side of the pool with her outstretched fingers before a rough hand caught her ankle tightly and held her in place. She clawed to try and get a firm grip on the edge but didn't manage before Draco pulled her back with one hand with ease. In his other arm he held a struggling Ginny to his hip.
She could hear the two other boy-like-men stop when they noticed their prey had already been caught.
Hermione knew they were far too strong for her and was less inclined to protest other than verbally when Draco dragged her through the water backwards right into the reach of Harry and Ron.
"Nononono!" she half groaned, half pleaded as Draco handed her over to her captors.
"Why thank you, Draco old pal," Ron said with a false posh accent as he got a firm grip on Hermione's other ankle. Hermione let herself float, scowling at the retreating edge of the pool, wet hair clinging to her face.
"Not at all, my good friend," Draco said likewise with a short nod and Hermione felt herself being pulled back to the shallows while Draco returned to his hostage who had taken to laughing weakly every time she tried and failed to loosen his pincer-like grip around her shoulders. But all in all she was putting up a terrific fight and Draco was starting to get red claw marks along his arm from her scratches.
Hermione continued to scowl as she was dragged backwards and could not see where the others were, though feeling them each holding a different ankle. Suddenly she stopped moving and the rush of water around her that kept her afloat, stopped and she almost disappeared under the water hadn't she been scooped up most uncomfortably by Harry.
The air was much cooler the second time she was pulled out of it as it dried on her skin and Harry's black hair was damp and remarkably flat. He grinned boyishly at her and Hermione opened her mouth desperately, as he shifted her slightly in his arms, like Ginny to let out a string of verbal protest.
Ron had stopped on her other side to block the main means of escape and making it further impossible to avoid a good dunking.
"Harry, don't you dare! No! I'll get water up my nose!" she said wildly looking pleadingly from Harry to Ron who both had their brows raised at her, then shared an amused look between them. Hermione was not about to follow Ginny's mistake and refused to hold on to Harry despite the feeling that she would accidentally slip right out of his grip.
Harry had begun to grin wickedly but Ron looked as though he was trying really hard to feign sincerity. Harry lifted her up higher but Ron held up a hand to tell him to stop.
Harry's grin faltered with slight confusion. Ron, to show that all was still fine, mimicked the wicked expression.
"Hold on a minute, Harry," Ron said, moving the dripping hand he held up to reach for Hermione's wrist. She didn't protest as he took her left hand in his own, out of curiosity. "We can't have a lady in discomfort..." Hermione's jaw dropped sardonically. He lifted Hermione's hand up to her face and took her forefinger and thumb and pinched them over her nose for her, implying she should do the same. She kept her fingers in place when he took his hand away. "We are gentlemen after all," Ron said reasonably.
Hermione found it hard to snort when pinching her nose and settled for exclaiming instead: "Gentlemen! Ha! You two little rascals don't know the meaning of the word!" Her free right arm flayed a little in surprise as Harry deliberately threatened to drop her but picked her up again at the last second.
"That wasn't very nice," Ron tut-tutted with mock disapproval. He took a couple of steps back in the water and Hermione eyed him warily over her hand. There was a loud splash behind her and she tried to twist to see but Harry wouldn't let her. Though, it was obvious Draco had gotten Ginny again from the gurgled shriek of laughter.
"Hey Ron," said Harry suddenly, making Hermione look up at the underside of his jaw. Ron looked back at Harry with apparent mild interest, as though he had been thinking of other things. "Catch!"
Hermione gasped as she was thrown bodily into the air in Ron's direction and the sensation made it feel as though something heavy had been dropped into her stomach. Drips flew from her as she began to sink rapidly and she knew that any moment she would be gone under the surface of the water but to her surprise, Ron reacted fast enough and she felt herself gently caught and the scary sensation in her stomach settled slightly. She was cradled in his wet arms and still had a hand over her nose.
Ron was smirking roguishly and Hermione tried to let go of her nose and get a hold on his neck, like Ginny had, deciding that being dragged beneath water was much more tempting then flying through the air again.
Before she could even release her fingers she was lowered then flung up into the fresh august air like a spring and collided with Harry's bare chest, who caught her somewhat more roughly than Ron had.
She was too busy trying to follow exactly the same plan on Harry, by getting a hold of his neck, that she didn't see Ron look innocently into the sky and take a big step to the right with an ignorant expression.
Harry was too quick for her and ripped her free of the water again and physically chucked her in the direction Ron was supposed to be standing with a huge grin. Hermione still had the hand on her nose and caught a glimpse of his expression before she hit the water with complete shock, having expected Ron's arms to be there to keep her from dropping.
She sunk out of sight and a heavy ripple of water washed over the two laughing men.
Hermione's head broke free a moment later, spluttering and she lifted her hands to wipe the water out of her eyes. Ron, when he had enough space between snickers to force the same sincere look, gave her his... 'apology'.
"Oops, sorry Hermione," he said, trying to sound apathetic but his lips twitched uncontrollably, "...missed..." he shrugged. He grinned at her playfully and Hermione in return scowled good-naturedly in a way that meant 'you know I will always love you, you little brat'.
And, though she didn't know it at the time, that was the first moment in months Severus had been entirely driven from her thoughts.
The next day saw Hermione (and the rest of the household) in an incredibly cheerful mood. She grinned at everything that walked, including the squirrels. She was dry once more, and grateful for it.
With free time on her hands, she had finally had a chance to get her wish and after breakfast (which was just as long as the one the previous day) she had collected a good book from her bedroom and informed the others of where she was planning to go, in case they panicked.
She was about to, at last, explore the open spaces of the bright looking forest (which looked a lot brighter than the Forbidden Forest).
She strolled along the paved path until it stopped, then kicked her way through the bright green grass, blue robes dragging her down and book clutched firmly in her hand. Her hair had been restored to its old curls expertly for the first time in ages and it gave her heart that extra lightness that accompanied the reflection of feelings in appearance.
A smile refused to remove itself from her lips, not that she tried to. The fun she had had the previous day was still on her mind and she felt unbelievably cleansed, as though if dunked enough in the water of the pool, the water would have magical healing properties. Her mind was fresh and clear of poisonous thoughts.
She grinned at a couple of snails dragging themselves across the dirt between blades of grass.
She entered the edge of the small wood and kept going until the grass slowly began to disperse and thin. She continued to walk until the end of the lawn was definite and the only thing covering the dry earth was bracken.
She stopped, looking around her and breathing the scent deep into her lungs. There was a large oak to her far right, a little deeper into the forest and it looked perfect to lean against.
She approached it and put out her free hand onto the smoothed bark, checking it weren't too lumpy and deeming it perfect she smiled and withdrew her hand, turned and settled herself cross-legged at its roots drawing her book into her lap and letting it fall open.
She found it perfect to the shape of her back and the ground to be sufficiently warm and firm under her and was ensconced in a matter of minutes. Her nose buried in the pages of her book, she hardly noticed the time fly and when her stomach let out a hearty growl she broke her sentence in surprise to see that it was already lunchtime.
She gave a regretful look at the base of the trunk as she picked herself up and returned straight away after lunch.
And 'her' tree fast became her comfort spot... for the next two years.
Ooooo. Two years? What do you think this means? Is this the end of the story? Was this the bad ending I told you about? Hang on! Where do you think you're going! It might not be finished!
There will definitely be another upload (so stick around) but I will not say whether it is the epilogue or another chapter – you'll just have to bite your nails until then (am I sounding a little mean right now?) Sorry if they are a little OOC in the last bit but that scene was based (somewhat subdued) on my peculiar summer which was a mixture of deadly dull on some days and over exciting/fun on others. Let me tell you, it is not half as fun as it seems to get dunked – though you tend to laugh a whole lot more (I dunno why... I think it's a reflex reaction or sumthin like that...)
IF u r curious... I actually attempted fanart... okay... I have NO talent to draw but the two pics look relatively human! Which is more than I can say for anything else I've ever drawn before. If you wanna check it out this is the website:
Shh! The second picture is based on this story (although I cannot master curly hair – it is of Hermione outside the gates (VERY SIMPLE) – there was Severus but I had to cut him out – if u saw the drawing u would agree).
Review – I really appreciate them! Those of you who have already reviewed – ur too nice!! Theories and opinions always interesting to read.:P
:p See u next upload.
Snakecharmer.
PS: i only just, yesterday, finished this chapter in bed and have no idea when the next will be up because workload is mounting. Should I have given this chapter to u later?