I've been kind of struggling with this one lately and I want to say thank you to all the people who have stuck with me and reviewed so diligently because... Well, my confidence sucks. I'll just be honest. I second-guess myself a lot. So when you guys review... I don't want to get sappy so I'll just say that it means a lot to me. Truly.
zaneri0t: Thank you! I hope you're doing well too!
Athena-spencer: I think we're both on the same page with that one. Sometimes I look at this story and think: damn, I'm such a bitch. Why am I making things so difficult for Clara?
Kazaqui: First off, thank you fo going through most of my chapters and leaving a review! That seriously makes my day whenever I can see you guys progress through my stuff. And yeah. I'm awful at quick burns. Or even like medium burns, I guess?
Minerva Andromeda: That meant so much that you like where everything's going! Plotting is such a pain for me but with this one I definitely had a plan going into it.
.com: I fist pumped when I saw your comment! I constantly worry about character development in all of my stories so this was really nice to hear.
altwrnativa: I'm so glad when I see someone from my other fics! Especially a baby like The Formans - that one has been here for a while and I still get the warm and fuzzies when I get to go back and write for it.
Chapter 20: A Warm Place
"MR. WEASLEY!" Clara's stomach clenched at the familiar name, her fingers biting into the worn straps of her bag as she lingered at the edge of the final turn to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room.
"Kick his arse, Weasley!" That distinctly familiar voice above the roar and fumble of bodies sent Clara skittering around the corner so fast that she almost slammed into a cluster of witches that had gathered around. Clara quickly dodged to the side, pushing between people until she broke the final ring and came face to face with a tangle of limbs. Some of the hall tiles were spattered with what looked to be blood and possibly spittle.
As Clara watched, Fred jerked forward, slamming his forehead into a mousy-looking Gryffindor boy's nose, sending a burst of blood and spit onto his robes. Just a few feet away, George was in much the same position, his big body curled around another red-robed boy, his knuckles raw as he pulled back for another punch. And just across the way, with Keela looming, ominous and vengeful, Archie was rolling, fumbling with another boy, his face screwed tight in concentration and his lip bloody.
"I AM GIVING YOU BOYS UNTIL THE COUNT OF THREE TO GET AWAY FROM EACH OTHER!" Professor Lupin roared, his fingers clenched around his wand as he shoved his way through the cluster of children around the tight circle of fighting boys. At the sudden sight of a wand, a few of the gathered students skittered away while the rest seemed to take a collective step back. "1!"
"YOU FUCKING COWARD!" George snarled, his face so rabid that for a moment Clara couldn't distinguish between the boy who had grabbed hold of her in the hall the day before.
"Better a coward than a BESOTTED WANK!" the boy beneath him snarled, his lip already swelling from an earlier blow.
"2!" Professor Lupin yelled, his eyes taking in the exchange with an almost impassive stare even as his voice and actions threatened vengeance. Over in the corner, Archie let out a ragged grunt, taking a knee to the side in a badly timed move to disengage himself from the other boy. Snarling, he threw himself back down, his knuckles connecting with the boy's cheekbone with a meaty pop! "SEPARATUM!"
Clara gasped, a good chunk of the students scrambling away as all six boys went hurtling in opposite directions. The mousier boy collided into the sea of witches, sending them tumbling to the ground like pins knocked over by a bowling ball. Against the far wall, Fred and George heaved themselves up, grunting out curses as their eyes zeroed in on their former opponents with the same amount of rage.
"Don't even think about it, Weasleys!" Professor Lupin snarled, his wand swinging smoothly to where they sat and grimacing, face pulled into taut, disdainful lines, the twins stilled. "I don't know what the bloody hell has gotten into any of you-"
"What's gotten into us is that they're a bunch of bewitched trouts who can't think beyond the inside of Deschamps knickers!" the boy with the bloody nose bellowed, his eyes watering, face smeared with a mixture of spittle and dark red.
Clara felt the subtle shift of the people around her, their eyes zeroing in on the girl who for the past week had run neck and neck with Harry Potter in school gossip. Clara could feel the familiar prickle of accusation zeroing in on the white-knuckled way that she was clutching her satchel, the dark, guilty circles ringing her odd eyes. Her strange silver-white hair and tawny eyes had added to the appeal - the vicious rumors fueled by her startling appearance. Rumors usually went in that direction sooner or later - first, it had been in family and now the masses had devolved into a slavering mess over her unusual hair color and eyes.
"Watch your fucking mouth, Bennet!" George snarled, Fred's arms wrapping around his twin's shoulders as the former jerked, looking like he was ready to murder the smaller boy.
"Enough!" Professor Lupin roared, his eyes cold and dark as they swept over the boys. "I don't care why you six have become animals right in front of my classroom. Now get up before I cart you there in a bubble, do you hear me?"
For a moment, none of the boys moved, the thinning crowd swaying from foot to foot in uneasy silence until finally they struggled to their knees, their eyes locked on each other even as they began to shuffle toward the Dumbledore's office.
Clara could feel shame - cold, hard guilt welling up inside of her like the hand of another person, dirty nails digging up from her stomach. Shading George's jaw, she could see the yellowing bruises from another - Clara choked, her nails biting through the top layer of her palms as she took an unsteady step toward him. There were other bruises too, softer like little fingerprints circling his forearms. Heat burned her lids, her mouth moving over a question that she hadn't thought to ask. Had you been fighting this whole entire week every time someone said something about me?
Instead all that came out was a half-choked sound, her head craning back as he finally got to her, his brother close behind with Keela and Archie just behind, whispering to each other. "George?"
Familiar caramel eyes snapped to her, the hard surface softening as he gave her a wane smile. His eyes quickly traveled over her face, one hand reaching out to ruffle through her curls. "Hey, Clara love."
That was all he had to say? She wanted to throw something at him. Currently, the area around his nose was turning a deeper shade of purple, his eyes looking puffy as blood dripped slowly from the exposed meat of his knuckles. And that was all he had to say? Clara's throat tightened around a well of words as his fingers slipped from her hair and he walked tiredly past.
"Your welcome for the free class period," Fred muttered to her out of the side of his mouth, giving her a cheeky wink that hammered home the guilt inside of her.
Her eyes instantly snapped behind him, Keela's arms wrapped around Archie's waist as he slouched into her. The pair gave her identical grins, sheepish and slightly vindicated. "Lovely day," Keela commented innocently and Archie gave a low hum of acknowledgement.
"Miss Deschamp," Professor Lupin called, Clara's head jerking to the side as he gave her a tired stare. His eyes flicked around the assembled students, a indiscernable emotion tightening his face. "Come with us as well."
Clara's heart dropped, her toes curling inside the worn laces of her boots. She could feel all of the color draining from her face as the taller teacher ushered the bruised and bloodied students farther down the corridor.
"Hopefully they'll get rid of her." Clara's shoulders tensed at the hissed voice, the students around her withering like a pile of vipers ready to strike.
Blinking back tears, she ducked her head, feeling the swelling of something angry clawing at her guts. Desperately, she pushed it down, hunching down into herself as she tried to skirt around the sea of witches and wizards. Someone's shoulder slammed into hers sending her wobbling to the side. Her eyes searched desperately between the bodies, catching sight of Professor Lupin as he paused just at the end of the hall.
"Send her back to Beauxbaton," another person seethed and Clara ducked around another pair of students, trying to keep her eyes down, her shoulders up. She just needed to go a bit farther and she would be out of the crowd.
Someone's elbow rammed into her side, taking some of the wind from her as she forced her way past them, the open air of the corridor greeting her. Dazed, she stumbled forward, moving as quickly as she could to where Professor Lupin was waiting.
"Send her back to that invalid sister of hers." Clara stopped, her insides going cold as her cheeks heated. The cobblestone at her feet blurred - not from tears this time, her fingers going skeletal around the straps of her bag.
Someone hit another person behind her, lightly, in gentle reprimand. "Ken."
Her throat tightened. "What?" Ken. Kenneth Towler. Her seatmate in Defence. Her whole world tilted, an odd buzzing like the wings of a dozen nesting bees starting in her lunges. "You know it's true. Her own sister can't even get out of bed. Bet they're keeping her chained in the attic while she vomits up all of those useless prophecies." A mean snort ripped through the hall. "I bet she doesn't even see anything. Probably as useless as her sister just egging people on with whatever flies through her mind."
Clara could see her breath, white and coming quickly in the air. Her mind had gone numb, some part of her clicking off as she turned slowly. Whatever Kenneth Towler said, it made him stop, his eyes widening for a moment before he was doubling down, his lips thinning.
"Take it back," Clara breathed, her fingers trembling on the thin cloth strap. She could feel the air crackling around her ears, charged like the wire inside of a lit bulb.
The student's behind Kenneth straightened, sharks scenting the blood of newly hurt prey. A few gave derisive snorts, eyeing the thin witch with obvious contempt. What could a squib do? The sharp tap of heels down the hall barely pricked Clara's attention, her eyes a ghostly shade of gold. Kenneth snorted. "What?"
Keela's voice was clear as she got closer. "Professor Lupin had to go ahead but he told me to come and get you… What's going on here?"
"Take. It. Back." Clara's voice had gone only a little bit louder, making some of the witches in the back press closer, their brows furrowed in confusion. All they had heard was Kenneth Towler's boasts, his voice ringing like a weedy wind billowing toward them.
Beside her Keela stilled, the hair at the nape of her neck rising as she stepped a bit closer. Clara was breathing heavily, her face tipped forward in a way that made her curls fall chaotically across her brow, shadowing her eyes until they seemed to glow. Keela's gut tightened, her feet scraping across the cobblestone as she backed up, giving the smaller girl more berth because… because there was a rage in her eyes that didn't suit her shallow face at all, the stark bones of her cheekbones adding a sunken quality to the golden eyes beyond.
Keela remember vaguely that she had wished for Clara to stand up for herself. She remembered that she had wanted the girl to finally grow a backbone - but this - this scared her. There was a quickness to her breath that made Keela think of a dying animal trying to draw in breathes, it's innards already outside of it's flesh, the end so near that you can hear it in the way that the air escaped them. Looking at Clara now, she could almost see that now, the smaller witches body vibrating with a death rattle that made her pixie-ish features seem abnormal - grotesque even.
"Take it back, Kenneth," a plump girl to Towler's right whispered, her eyes gleaming with barely concealed fear.
An uneasiness had cut through the air, shrowding the snow crusted halls, the wind growing harsher as it howled it's way around the corners.
Clara felt a part of her starting to tear, somewhere inside of her, the bees in her chest growing frenzied. Her teeth began to chatter, the clack-clack-clack of her incisors hitting against each other making her breath break and jiggle from her throat. She could feel it - feel her magic begin to roll free, a swarm of insects kept too long in confinement. She almost wanted to laugh at the image, her mother's words drifting back to her. They were fanciful now. Because magic - she realized wasn't like a cage of birds at all. No. If anything it was like a vat of wasps that she had kept inside a mason jar, gorging itself on her doubts, her fears.
Towler gaze a dry laugh, his eyes watering and bloodshot - Clara could see that now, the whites slashed through with the bloody red of his veins. The sound made Clara jerk, her hands releasing from her satchel in a twitch that made a few of the student's in front of her flinch away. Clara could feel something warm and syrupy starting to coat her throat.
"Wh-why should I do that?" Kenneth said, his voice nothing more than a bleat of fear. Something… something dark was snaking around her foot, he thought, his mouth going dry. He blinked hard, refocusing. What the fuck was that? He fumbled on, his words quick and wobbling even as he lost focus of what he was saying. "I'm - I'm not one of her boy-toys. Just because some stupid, sad excuse for a pureblood got a look at her knickers-"
Clara couldn't breath.
Her arms flailed for a moment, her knees hitting the cobblestone with a thud as her mouth opened on a silent scream. Keela gasped, jerking forward as Clara's head was yanked back, the long, slim line of her friend's throat exposed like the frail underbelly of a newborn doe. And then quickly jerked back, falling painfully onto her hip as black liquid oozed from Clara. Disjointed screams signaled off from the crowd of students like flare guns set off at different times.
"PROFESSOR - PROFESSOR!" Keela heard herself scream and then keep screaming, her throat going raw as her shoulders bumped against the cold hallway walls. Desperately, the other students tried to scramble away - but there was only a straight shot down the hall and to the rest of the school. A straight shot that led right past Clara. But somewhere along the line, Keela's ear shut off, her world going blissfully mute as the black stuff surrounding Clara grew and grew, eating it's way up her hips and to her waist and finally when it reached her friend's shoulder it…
Keela started to cry, her tears interrupted by sharp screams, her hands going up to shield her face as that darkness exploded, billowing out like a bomb going off. The whole world hummed, her body feeling frail and weak even as her own magic called out a mournful wail of recognition. Her mind tried desperately to understand the utter despair that she felt, her very bones aching as if she had just witnessed a friend's death. Magic, she thought as she huddled into her knees. Pure-unadulterated magic.
Clara's body wilted, her knees grazing her chin as she curled in on herself like a used flower finally being thrown from the vase to the trash. For a moment, she tried to keep her eyes open, tried to see the direction that she was going, the people she might be hurting. But… well, then she thought that was foolish. There was nothing to see anyway.
For a moment, she wondered if this was what her parents had been worried about - even Dumbledore. Clara could hear things breaking - like the sound of meat being torn apart by ravenous teeth and she knew - distantly - that this could never end well. Her world churned, condensing and expanding like a muscle that was being used and for once - Clara breathed it in, tasting sugar - for once that thing inside of her wasn't straining against her skin.
She could rest here. Her lungs stopped burning, the ache becoming more of a gentle strangulation, a slow decay.
And even though it made her uncomfortable, even though she hated it in some ways… it also felt… nice. Like the first touch of wine on an alcoholics lips or the deadly kiss of a stranger.
"Clara - clara, please!" Her magic stuttered, withering in a slow cycle of darkness. She knew - she knew that voice. Now it was reedy, high and wobbling like the call of a bird in the morning but before… She couldn't entirely remember but… "CLARA!"
Clara's lunges flexed, her heart hammering in panic as she heard the lilting notes in that plea. Keela. Keela was crying and she - Her feet wiggled, stinging from the sudden feel of snow. Desperately, wincing, Clara reached out to the darkness and beckoned it back inside, relief washing over her as she felt it obey.
Bone-deep exhaustion crashed down on her, her eyes throbbing from the sudden blaze of light. Rubbing her eyes, she stumbled a bit, her feet catching on broken tile and freezing snow, making her jerk forward, landing with a painful crash on a bed of splintered cement.
"Keela," Clara wheezed, fumbling blindly in the snow before her vision finally readjusted. And then she went still, her breath rushing from her.
There wasn't a hall any longer. Massive chunk of the roof had been ripped away like the teeth of a giant dog had torn into them. Snow fell in thick clumps all around them, dampening Clara's cheeks. The wall that had previously been slitted open by openings that overlooked the courtyard were torn apart liek gaping holes left by the extraction of teeth. Broken brick and mortar lay in frenzied heaps, the cobblestone halls now snowed in trenches.
The only thing left standing was a thin halo, Professor Lupin's brow dotted with sweat, his arm shaking as he kept a firm hold the shielding spell. The other children were huddled behind him, crying, clutching each other. And standing beside him -
Clara flinched, curling in on herself as she saw Fred and Archie, their faces pale as they stared at her with undisguised horror. And just in front of them - Clara slid backwards, her palm opening up on a jagged piece of tile. George's face was gray, his eyes shaded in agony like he couldn't bear to look at her but was forcing himself to.
Slowly, sobbing filtered in, Clara's muscles going tight as she stilled. She had never heard such a broken, terrified sound in her life. Swallowing thick mucusy bile, she turned, her eyes watering at the image before her.
Sitting in a half circle of undamaged flooring and wall, Keela's hair was a wild mess of curls, obscuring her whole face.
As always, please review. Think of me as your fun and fluffy golden retriever puppy. You can either give me a pat on the head or you can go in the house and get your coffee. Not saying that I won't still love you but I am saying that I'll actively trip you on the way up the stairs. Your choice.