A/N: I'm sorry this is so late. You know, i have other stories and the reviews are poor for this one. my other story; 'Fate, Destiny, and FAtigue", recieved 5 reviews in under 3 hours. SO, I'm working on it because I'm MODIVATED.
Disclaimer: Do you own anything? Would you mind sharing? Be nice, we want some cake too. Oh, bloody hypocrites, be that way. I'll just sit here with my fan fiction and twiddle my thumbs.
-----CHAPTER FIFTEEN -----
As soon as Lunch came around, Harry made a mad dash for the Tower, and he literally ran straight through the Fat Lady as she swung open for his rushed password. Harry stumbled and slipped on the carpet, caught himself on a table, and rushed up the steps. He stopped, gasping for breath, outside Brenna's door. He paused, and pressed his ear to the door. He could hear crying, supposed shouts of anger, and crashes. He heard Squawk, the poor raven probably dodging flying objects. Harry heard the raven plaque on the door sigh.
"Do ye wish entrance, Master Potter?" it asked, gazing down at him. The gem eyes were glittering with artificial uncertainty; it was obviously a warning to any passerby.
"Of course I do!" Harry said, backing away from the door.
And with that, the plaque sighed, and with a click, the door opened slightly.
Harry peered in, before opening it and slipping through. When he entered, the door closed behind him. The sitting area was covered in books, most tossed over from the upper loft, where the little nook library and Brenna's bed was. He heard her sobbing, and shouting. Harry let out a shout as a large tomb came flying from the loft, dropping down below. He barely avoided it, and it nearly broke the arm to the couch. Harry looked up, uncovering his head.
"Brenna?" he asked worriedly.
The sobbing stopped, and Brenna looked over the rail, a book in one hand; "Nothin's makin' since nah more, Harry!" she exclaimed, shouting with frustrated sadness as she turned and was lost to view.
Harry went to the staircase, avoiding yet another book, and quickly went up to the loft. Brenna was leafing through another text, having dropped to her knees and the tears continuing to pour down her rosy cheeks from her angered eyes. She slammed the book shut, threw it across the loft, let out a hitched sob, and covered her face in her hands as she shuddered with a sigh. Harry went over, and dropped down at her side.
"Brenna," he began, but when he reached out to comfort her, she scooted away, getting up. Harry sat there kneeling and stared up at her. Brenna never rejected comfort from him.
Brenna looked at him when her hands came from her face, glaring at him. This glare was not forced, it was real; "Ya knew," she said through her tears, suppressing another sob; "Ya knew, an' ya didn' tell meh!" she shrieked, hands clenching into fists as she went over to the bed and collapsed on it. She cried into the maroon comforter, fingernails digging into the gold emblem of her bloodline's crest.
Harry stared at it, three rings entwined with ivy. The rings themselves seemed to be chain-linked, or overlapping. He remembered Brenna saying that the three rings stood for the three main clans, and that together, they symbolized Trust, Unity, and Compassion. The ivy was a symbol of Peace and the Heritage of an elf, since they gathered magic from the forest and earth. The three rings were the core concepts of a relationship, Harry realized. And now, two of the three threatened to be broken...
"Brenna, I couldn't," Harry managed to say finally, sitting on the edge of the bed. He reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, and to his relief she didn't shrug it away, more she almost leaned into it. But something caught her and she sat up slowly, tucking her legs beneath her as she gazed out the window on the other side of the wall...
(A/N: I should go into description of her room. Ok: Brenn's bed is up against the wall, window there she's lookin' through — there's a railing about twelve feet away overlooking the sitting area, a hole for where the stairs are, and the walls are lined with bookshelves and regular shelves for things. Okay, hope there's no more confusion).
"They told me that... you might get hurt," Harry said, "I suppose they were afraid you might... get angry and blow something up, or something like that..." he paused; "Don't blame Anestrothea and Dumbledore, or anyone else. It's not there fault, it's just things have happened a lot because the truth wasn't hidden. It's paranoia, I know, but that's how Dumbledore is sometimes. He had your best interests at heart. You know, Anestrothea didn't want to tell you, Dumbledore didn't have to tell you," he knew he was sounding like a brownnoser, just like Percy Weasley was when it had come to Barty Crouch.
Brenna looked at him; "I didn' wan' ta know, Harry, I didn' need ta know," she said sadly, looking away. She gazed longingly out the window; "Mah mind's in ovvadrive..."
Harry took his now heavy and annoying robe off, and set it on the railing. He picked up the book Brenna had been reading, and wasn't surprised that it was a history book on wars. Harry sighed and set it back on a shelf, then turned to look at Brenna. She had broken down, her spirit was shattered, in a sense. This newfound knowledge didn't bode well with her mind; it wasn't healthy for her to be like this.
"Brenna," Harry said; "I won't let you're brother harm you, or Voldermort," he went over, and sat back down on the bed beside her; "You must believe me, if that's why you're worried—"
"Ya think tha's why I'm upset?" Brenna asked, looking at him; "Nah, Harry, I'm nah afraid o' dyin', sometimes I can' wait. Et's all thess... all these secrets... I don' know how ya handle et sometimes," she sighed shakily, and Harry wrapped his arms around her as she lay against him; "I feel so cold now," she whispered, shivering.
Harry kissed the top of her forehead, but it didn't help; "I'm nah ready fah thess," she whispered, closing her eyes; "Ever'thin's comin' full circle, I guess..."
She snuggled into Harry, and he tightened his hold on her, as if afraid he would lose her, should he let Brenna go. He didn't bother wondering what Brenna meant; he'd become accustomed to her speaking in riddles, and only held her.
---
Ron and Hermione burst threw the portrait hole after looking for Harry and Brenna. "There's only one other place they could be, you know," Ron said as they crossed the Common Room to the stairs.
"I know, Ron," Hermione said, rubbing his eyes. But when she looked, she saw her cat, Crookshanks, pawing at Brenna's door. The plaque was in hysterics.
"No, ye cannot come in!" it squawked loudly; "Come later, Mater Harry and Lady Brenna be conversing dire matters! BE GONE!" It shrieked, but Crookshanks only hissed and clawed on the door, making the plaque howl in pain of being tarnished; "Ach, you filthy son of Seresta!" the plaque shouted, cawing madly.
"Crookshanks!" Hermione said finally, having heard enough of the squabble and running over to scoop her cat up. Ron stifled his laughter, and walked over. Hermione had Crookshanks cradled in her arms, and the cat purred, though still glaring at the plaque. The plaque glared back, clicking its wooden beak loudly before facing Ron.
"And I suppose ye two as well request entry?" the plaque asked.
"Ah, yeah, but a question," Ron said, crossing his arms; "How in the hell can you act so real, when you're only charmed?"
The plaque snorted; "Essence of souls, Master Weasley," it replied curtly and with a hint of pride; "I am partly real. Now, ye may enter, if and when the Lady Brenna and Lord—"
"What?" Hermione asked; "Lady and Lord? Brenna I could understand, but why refer Harry to 'Lord'?"
The plaque looked at her; "Master Potter is given respect now," he said; "For he is bound to Lady Brenna," he glared at Crookshanks as the cat hissed; "Get over it," the plaque muttered; "Ye shall not enter."
Crookshanks hissed again, and Hermione stoked his head as she whispered soothing nonsense. Crookshanks purred, nuzzling into her. But he still looked up at the plaque.
Ron eyed the cat, shook his head, and walked up to the door. He began knocking, calling;"Brenna, Harry? Ya there?"
"Silence is golden, Master Weasley," the plaque said; "They wish for no company now."
"What, are they sha—?" Ron began, but Hermione cut him off by saying; "Ron, perhaps we should just come back again later," without waiting for his reply, Hermione pushed Ron back down to the common room and out of the portrait. Crookshanks hopped from her arms, and walked over to a fluffy chair and curled up in it. His eyes watched the landing outside Brenna's door, the plaque having receded back int othe woodwork to resemble the carving it was made out ot be.
--- to be continued ---
A/N: well, the end! No, kidding, but what's up with Crookshanks? And the plaque? Ooh ooh 'more shocking secrets this way come'...
Disclaimer: Do you own anything? Would you mind sharing? Be nice, we want some cake too. Oh, bloody hypocrites, be that way. I'll just sit here with my fan fiction and twiddle my thumbs.
-----CHAPTER FIFTEEN -----
As soon as Lunch came around, Harry made a mad dash for the Tower, and he literally ran straight through the Fat Lady as she swung open for his rushed password. Harry stumbled and slipped on the carpet, caught himself on a table, and rushed up the steps. He stopped, gasping for breath, outside Brenna's door. He paused, and pressed his ear to the door. He could hear crying, supposed shouts of anger, and crashes. He heard Squawk, the poor raven probably dodging flying objects. Harry heard the raven plaque on the door sigh.
"Do ye wish entrance, Master Potter?" it asked, gazing down at him. The gem eyes were glittering with artificial uncertainty; it was obviously a warning to any passerby.
"Of course I do!" Harry said, backing away from the door.
And with that, the plaque sighed, and with a click, the door opened slightly.
Harry peered in, before opening it and slipping through. When he entered, the door closed behind him. The sitting area was covered in books, most tossed over from the upper loft, where the little nook library and Brenna's bed was. He heard her sobbing, and shouting. Harry let out a shout as a large tomb came flying from the loft, dropping down below. He barely avoided it, and it nearly broke the arm to the couch. Harry looked up, uncovering his head.
"Brenna?" he asked worriedly.
The sobbing stopped, and Brenna looked over the rail, a book in one hand; "Nothin's makin' since nah more, Harry!" she exclaimed, shouting with frustrated sadness as she turned and was lost to view.
Harry went to the staircase, avoiding yet another book, and quickly went up to the loft. Brenna was leafing through another text, having dropped to her knees and the tears continuing to pour down her rosy cheeks from her angered eyes. She slammed the book shut, threw it across the loft, let out a hitched sob, and covered her face in her hands as she shuddered with a sigh. Harry went over, and dropped down at her side.
"Brenna," he began, but when he reached out to comfort her, she scooted away, getting up. Harry sat there kneeling and stared up at her. Brenna never rejected comfort from him.
Brenna looked at him when her hands came from her face, glaring at him. This glare was not forced, it was real; "Ya knew," she said through her tears, suppressing another sob; "Ya knew, an' ya didn' tell meh!" she shrieked, hands clenching into fists as she went over to the bed and collapsed on it. She cried into the maroon comforter, fingernails digging into the gold emblem of her bloodline's crest.
Harry stared at it, three rings entwined with ivy. The rings themselves seemed to be chain-linked, or overlapping. He remembered Brenna saying that the three rings stood for the three main clans, and that together, they symbolized Trust, Unity, and Compassion. The ivy was a symbol of Peace and the Heritage of an elf, since they gathered magic from the forest and earth. The three rings were the core concepts of a relationship, Harry realized. And now, two of the three threatened to be broken...
"Brenna, I couldn't," Harry managed to say finally, sitting on the edge of the bed. He reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, and to his relief she didn't shrug it away, more she almost leaned into it. But something caught her and she sat up slowly, tucking her legs beneath her as she gazed out the window on the other side of the wall...
(A/N: I should go into description of her room. Ok: Brenn's bed is up against the wall, window there she's lookin' through — there's a railing about twelve feet away overlooking the sitting area, a hole for where the stairs are, and the walls are lined with bookshelves and regular shelves for things. Okay, hope there's no more confusion).
"They told me that... you might get hurt," Harry said, "I suppose they were afraid you might... get angry and blow something up, or something like that..." he paused; "Don't blame Anestrothea and Dumbledore, or anyone else. It's not there fault, it's just things have happened a lot because the truth wasn't hidden. It's paranoia, I know, but that's how Dumbledore is sometimes. He had your best interests at heart. You know, Anestrothea didn't want to tell you, Dumbledore didn't have to tell you," he knew he was sounding like a brownnoser, just like Percy Weasley was when it had come to Barty Crouch.
Brenna looked at him; "I didn' wan' ta know, Harry, I didn' need ta know," she said sadly, looking away. She gazed longingly out the window; "Mah mind's in ovvadrive..."
Harry took his now heavy and annoying robe off, and set it on the railing. He picked up the book Brenna had been reading, and wasn't surprised that it was a history book on wars. Harry sighed and set it back on a shelf, then turned to look at Brenna. She had broken down, her spirit was shattered, in a sense. This newfound knowledge didn't bode well with her mind; it wasn't healthy for her to be like this.
"Brenna," Harry said; "I won't let you're brother harm you, or Voldermort," he went over, and sat back down on the bed beside her; "You must believe me, if that's why you're worried—"
"Ya think tha's why I'm upset?" Brenna asked, looking at him; "Nah, Harry, I'm nah afraid o' dyin', sometimes I can' wait. Et's all thess... all these secrets... I don' know how ya handle et sometimes," she sighed shakily, and Harry wrapped his arms around her as she lay against him; "I feel so cold now," she whispered, shivering.
Harry kissed the top of her forehead, but it didn't help; "I'm nah ready fah thess," she whispered, closing her eyes; "Ever'thin's comin' full circle, I guess..."
She snuggled into Harry, and he tightened his hold on her, as if afraid he would lose her, should he let Brenna go. He didn't bother wondering what Brenna meant; he'd become accustomed to her speaking in riddles, and only held her.
---
Ron and Hermione burst threw the portrait hole after looking for Harry and Brenna. "There's only one other place they could be, you know," Ron said as they crossed the Common Room to the stairs.
"I know, Ron," Hermione said, rubbing his eyes. But when she looked, she saw her cat, Crookshanks, pawing at Brenna's door. The plaque was in hysterics.
"No, ye cannot come in!" it squawked loudly; "Come later, Mater Harry and Lady Brenna be conversing dire matters! BE GONE!" It shrieked, but Crookshanks only hissed and clawed on the door, making the plaque howl in pain of being tarnished; "Ach, you filthy son of Seresta!" the plaque shouted, cawing madly.
"Crookshanks!" Hermione said finally, having heard enough of the squabble and running over to scoop her cat up. Ron stifled his laughter, and walked over. Hermione had Crookshanks cradled in her arms, and the cat purred, though still glaring at the plaque. The plaque glared back, clicking its wooden beak loudly before facing Ron.
"And I suppose ye two as well request entry?" the plaque asked.
"Ah, yeah, but a question," Ron said, crossing his arms; "How in the hell can you act so real, when you're only charmed?"
The plaque snorted; "Essence of souls, Master Weasley," it replied curtly and with a hint of pride; "I am partly real. Now, ye may enter, if and when the Lady Brenna and Lord—"
"What?" Hermione asked; "Lady and Lord? Brenna I could understand, but why refer Harry to 'Lord'?"
The plaque looked at her; "Master Potter is given respect now," he said; "For he is bound to Lady Brenna," he glared at Crookshanks as the cat hissed; "Get over it," the plaque muttered; "Ye shall not enter."
Crookshanks hissed again, and Hermione stoked his head as she whispered soothing nonsense. Crookshanks purred, nuzzling into her. But he still looked up at the plaque.
Ron eyed the cat, shook his head, and walked up to the door. He began knocking, calling;"Brenna, Harry? Ya there?"
"Silence is golden, Master Weasley," the plaque said; "They wish for no company now."
"What, are they sha—?" Ron began, but Hermione cut him off by saying; "Ron, perhaps we should just come back again later," without waiting for his reply, Hermione pushed Ron back down to the common room and out of the portrait. Crookshanks hopped from her arms, and walked over to a fluffy chair and curled up in it. His eyes watched the landing outside Brenna's door, the plaque having receded back int othe woodwork to resemble the carving it was made out ot be.
--- to be continued ---
A/N: well, the end! No, kidding, but what's up with Crookshanks? And the plaque? Ooh ooh 'more shocking secrets this way come'...