Of Lapses and Costs
Prologue: Numbing
Rating: T
Summary: It was stuporous; the room swung away from and the colours dulled. My awareness seemed to expand and then contract to focus on one fact.
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the Harry Potter books or movies. All credit goes to J.K. Rowling and the producers.
Harry's confession was numbing.
It was one of the few experiences I can characterize as such, even after everything I've been through. Being raised a…well, a Muggle, I suppose; nothing magically traumatic has ever happened to me. Only after four years of being Harry Potter's best friend can I truthfully recite life changing experiences.
In our first year, well that was too bad. I have to admit I didn't feel nearly as brave as I should have while we were attempting to rescue the Sorceror's Stone. I cannot recall my exact actions or words to Harry, though he's told me many times over what I'd done.
In our second year, the basilisk was frightening enough-but it was after, after Ginny had been rescued, nearly in time. Yes, she was rescued from death, but not from other evils Voldemort was capable of. It was I who held her while she cried, when she couldn't stand any but a female's touch, and I who reassured her, and I who kept her secret. That was the frightening after.
In our third year, tiptoeing around, keeping so many secrets-that I had a time-turner, that Hagrid's pet would be executed, that Remus Lupin was a werewolf. It was then I felt brave, more in control. I broke the law, I attacked a teacher. Then the Ministry refused to believe us, and I let an officially convicted mass-murderer go.
Please describe to me a more numbing, life changing experience than these.
Yes, the numbing part…
You see, I don't go numb often. As you could guess. I dance in the cold and revel in the heat; I feel. But when Harry poured out everything to us, when that realization slapped me full in the face, I was cold inside and hot outside, combining to form a body cast that would neither feel nor move.
We were in the common room, too late at night. It was just us; Ron had already fallen asleep long ago on the sofa.
"Barty Crouch?" I had echoed, stunned. "But-"
"You heard Sirius," he had interrupted savagely. "Is it that hard to believe?"
He glared at me. I didn't notice; I was somewhat used to his bipolar temperament, that while he would tell us something so secret he would dare us to confront him or deny it.
I shrugged, at a loss for what to say. Then the feeling was merely bile in my throat, and perhaps some premonition hovering just behind my shoulder; or perhaps I imagine that now.
"Well-"
"He didn't look like the older Crouch," he interrupted again. "I mean, he looked years older than the vision I saw in the Pensieve, but that would be from Azkaban…"
He looked at me and sighed, probably at the quizzical expression I knew I must have worn.
"He-he wasn't…as tall as his dad," he'd said, frowning into a corner of the room. "He was still tall, mind, but…He didn't look as old as Remus, even, because he didn't have many wrinkles. But he was real pale, like, and, and he had freckles! And…"
"And he had fair hair," I breathed.
"Yeah," he had said flatly, and looked at me. "After his mum, I s'pose. How…? Hermione?" He hurried toward me. "What's wrong?"
That was Harry's confession.
It was stuporous; the room swung away from and the colours dulled. My awareness seemed to expand and then contract to focus on one fact.
I'd slept with the Dark Lord's most devoted servant.
A/N: Ok, so this was meant to be a one-shot. Then I got here and decided I'd like to draw it out more and have some fun. I know the ship can't be too popular. What did you think?