A/N: For all you romantics, I'm sorry but I REALLY had no interest in writing romance. I wanted to move on with the plot, not dwell on a mere side plot to this fic.
I do NOT own Harry Potter.
…
As the students began to file out of the door, Harry searched desperately for Ginny. He had to catch her.
After a few seconds, he caught sight of her red hair glinting in the dim light of the room, and he pushed his way through the crowd to reach her. She was walking away from him, talking to a sixth year Hufflepuff she had helped during the meeting, and so didn't see him trying to get to her.
It was at these little moments when he wished he still had his voice more than ever.
Finally he caught up with her just as she reached the doors to the Room of Requirement. He laid his hand on her shoulder to notify her of his presence, and she turned, slightly startled.
"Oh, Harry! I'm sorry, were you looking for me?" Ginny asked. The Hufflepuff was still there, staring at Harry. Harry ignored the other girl and nodded to Ginny.
"I wanted to talk to you." He signed. "You don't have any other plans for tonight, do you?"
Ginny smiled.
"Funnily enough, I don't. Hold on, I'll just be a minute." Ginny said; then she turned back to the Hufflepuff and continued talking about the best way to visualize a stunning spell. Harry retreated to the back wall of the room and waited for her to finish her conversation as the rest of the students filtered out of the room.
Eventually the Hufflepuff turned to leave, and Harry walked over to Ginny.
"So what is it, Harry?" She asked.
"I thought we could have our dinner together. I asked Dobby to make us a meal and bring it here…we can have our own private night. That is…if you want." He signed, a tad nervously even though she had already said that she didn't have anything else to do. What if she had changed her mind and she didn't want to be with him anymore?
But her face lit up in delight and the next thing Harry knew, he was holding Ginny in his arms.
"Of course I want to! I was so disappointed when they announced that Hogsmeade weekends were cancelled…I thought we wouldn't be able to have any time together, just the two of us. But you thought of a way around it!"
Harry smiled, feeling her hair under his cheek. He hugged her tighter, letting her know without letting her go that he was smiling.
…
Harry and Ginny said goodbye to each other three hours later. Ginny was headed back to the common room, while Harry had to go to his Astronomy lesson. They parted with a kiss.
Harry felt elated over the time spent with Ginny, but he was also still slightly disbelieving that such a wonderful girl would be even remotely interested in him. To him, it just didn't make sense.
But, he supposed that was part of what made Ginny so wonderful.
Harry strolled happily down a dark corridor which would take him to the Entrance Hall, and from there he would be able to get to the Astronomy Tower. He wasn't going to be late; he had left the Room of Requirement with enough time to spare.
His head was filled with Ginny. He marveled at how loving she was, how much she was willing to bear just by loving him.
Harry suddenly was thrown against the corridor wall. He went limp and slid down it until he was slumped against the wall on the ground, unable to move his body but still conscious.
His mind reeled. What had just happened? Why couldn't he move?
Then a figure came around the corner of the corridor and stalked towards where Harry was leaned helplessly against the wall. Harry watched the person approach, and then realization hit him like a falling giant when he saw the house crest on the student's robes.
The slytherins. They had finally made their move.
He berated himself inside his head. He should have been more careful, should have realized that now was a perfect time for the slytherins to get to him.
He heard more footsteps behind him and craned his neck to look. A group of five other slytherins were making their way towards Harry and their housemate, approaching confidently and without trying to quiet their footsteps. Why should they? This was a rarely used corridor, and only the seventh year gryffindors and slytherins were allowed in the corridors at this time because of the astronomy lesson. No one would be around to discover them.
The lone slytherin reached Harry and stood staring down at the helpless gryffindor, waiting for his companions to reach him. Harry couldn't see the slytherin's face as it was in shadow, but he could tell that he was a male and tall, with dark hair.
The other students reached them and Harry, despite himself, felt a little bit of fear flicker in his heart. There were six of them, all from either sixth or seventh year judging by their height.
They took his wand from his pocket and then levitated him, all without saying a word. They then started moving off down the corridor, back the way Harry had come. Harry wondered where they were taking him, but then remembered that there were several unused classrooms in the next passageway. That must be where they were heading.
Harry had guessed correctly. They entered a dusty classroom with the desks and chairs stacked against the back wall, with burnt out torches in sconces in the walls. It looked like it hadn't been used in years.
The slytherins set Harry down in the center of the room and then pulled out chairs for themselves. After a few scourgifies they arranged the chairs in a circle around Harry, closing him in even if he could move.
He watched all this with a mounting feeling of dread. What were they going to do? It obviously wasn't a quick jinx, or they wouldn't have bothered to bring him here. Whatever they were planning was going to take a bit of time.
Finally, with the chairs arranged to their satisfaction, the slytherins took their seats and pulled out their wands. They lit the torches set in the walls with a few verbal spells, and Harry could finally distinguish their features. He recognized Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Daphne and Astoria Greengrass, as well as a couple of sixth years Harry had seen, but didn't know the names of. He glared at them, trying to convey all the choice insults that had built in his head but couldn't be said.
Parkinson cast a muffliato charm on the room, and then they all turned predatory gazes on him. He felt his fear increase, but he tried to not let it show on his face.
He scowled darkly.
"Finite Incantatum." Zabini intoned, and Harry was suddenly able to move again. He got up slowly, watching them for any movement.
He wanted to scream at them. What are you doing? Why can't you just leave me alone? But his voice was trapped inside his head, forever doomed to never be heard.
Well, he certainly wasn't going to make a fool of himself trying to pantomime his insults and questions at them. He would have to settle for his mental voice.
"We've been wanting a word with you, Potter." Parkinson sneered. Harry raised his eyebrow, letting them interpret it however they wanted. What about? Why are you dawdling, then? Really? How interesting.
"You see, we've heard that you are mute…" Parkinson continued in a falsely pleasant voice. Harry pretended to yawn, at looked at his wrist as if checking the time on a watch.
"But we wanted to know for certain whether it's true." Parkinson finished, beginning to scowl at Harry's antics.
He cocked his head at her and crossed his arms. Really? Now how to you intend to find that out?
"We're going to run an experiment." Daphne Greengrass said. "And you are the subject." Ah, been delving into a few muggle science textbooks, have we, Ms. Perfect Pureblood?
"We're going to figure out how many distressed noises you can make." Zabini said, smirking. Harry tried to appear unimpressed, rolling his eyes and tapping his foot as if to say, this is all ridiculous. Get on with it.
"You act nonchalant now, but you just wait until we're finished. Then we'll see whether you still take us so lightly." Parkinson threatened. Harry again rolled his eyes, but inside he was truly frightened. What were they going to do?
Suddenly bright flashes of light burst from the wands of the slytherins, all of them aimed straight for Harry. He tried to duck but he didn't have enough time, and every single spell hit him.
Suddenly he felt extremely battered and sore, as if he'd been run over by a hippogriff. He looked at his arms and saw that they were covered in bruises.
Harry raised an eyebrow. That's the best you can do? A bludgeoning spell we learned in second year?
But then more spells came, their effects so numerous that Harry lost track of all the different things he was feeling. The slytherins kept shooting the spells, and Harry was forced to the floor by a partial paralyzing spell like the one he'd been subjected to before.
A minute or so passed, the only noises the slytherins firing their spells. Harry began to take register pain. They were using harmful curses now instead of irritating jinxes.
His breathing became labored as the pain mounted, all over his body. Then, finally, he started to sigh and huff, his new versions of moaning and grunting. The slytherins paused for a minute, trying to figure out why all of a sudden he was making strange breathy sounds. Then they figured it out, and resumed their torture with smirks.
Finally, Harry could not withhold himself any longer. He screamed. Screams that would have been agonizing to hear had they been audible. Again, the slytherins paused, wondering why his face was scrunched up and his mouth was hanging open. But once they figured out he was screaming, their smirks turned into grins.
Parkinson openly laughed in glee.
"What's that, Potter? You telling us to stop? I'm sorry, we can't hear you!" Parkinson taunted. Harry didn't have the energy to glare in return. His body was still in pain, and twitching from a few jinxes that were wearing off. He couldn't move either; his legs because of the paralyzing spell and his upper body from pain and exhaustion.
"If you told us to stop, we would, Potter! All you have to do is say the word!" Zabini said.
"No? Well, let's continue then!" Daphne Greengrass said cheerily, as if she were playing some game with a toddler.
More spells got fired, almost all of them painful. Their effect varied from uncomfortable temperatures to bruising to cutting. Harry started screaming again, because the pain just got worse and worse as they loaded spell after spell on him. It all piled up until it was like the cruciatus, and Harry could only focus on one thought: let it end.
Finally, the slytherins stopped, and Harry, delirious but still conscious, vaguely hoped that it was for good this time. He was staring blankly ahead, not really seeing anything.
"Come on, lets get him to the bottom of the staircase. It's nearly curfew, and we can't just leave him here. Someone has to find him." Zabini suggested.
They levitated him and took him out the door, through several corridors, and then down two flights of stairs. At that point, they let Harry fall back to the ground, causing him to "shout" in pain. They laughed, but didn't leave.
Zabini placed Harry's wand carefully inside Harry's robe pocket, and then stepped back.
"Let's finish up." Parkinson said. They all took a step back, and then four of them fired off one spell each, aimed at his arms and hands.
He heard cracks, and fiery pain shot up his fingers and arms. He screamed again, eliciting more sadistic laughs from the slytherins who then turned and walked away. He heard them talking about him as they left, their voices fading as they climbed down the flights of stairs.
His whole body throbbed. He was hot and cold at the same time, his skin was hurting where it made contact with the floor, and dozens of little cuts stung and bled all over him. Add to that the deep burning pain in his arms and hands, and he was wishing for unconsciousness.
He hoped someone – anyone – would find him soon. He needed to get to the infirmary, but there was no way he could get there by himself. His lower half was still paralyzed, and he couldn't drag himself down the stairs, especially with the way his arms were burning.
His only hope was that a patrolling prefect or teacher would find him, lying in the dark on a small staircase landing, without tripping over him and taking a tumble down the stairs themselves. He would even welcome Filch or Mrs. Norris; at least they would take him to the Hospital Wing.
He wondered how long he would have to wait while bearing his agony. The pain was not diminishing; if anything, he thought, it was increasing.
If only he could scream, truly scream. Then someone would hear him and come to his rescue.
He heard muttering, quiet with a little concern. He glanced up towards the wall, and saw that the people in the portraits were staring at him and talking to each other.
Maybe they could get help. He filled his eyes with as much pleading as he could and met several of their eyes, hoping that they would go and get someone to help him.
After a few seconds they started to run off through other portraits, in both directions on the wall. Harry let his eyes close. His message had been sent. Now he could only wait.
