Author's Note—
10/6/06
So I've done it again—I've revised. I've gone back through all the chapters and fixed some errors or little things that were bugging me. Tweaked a conversation here, elaborated a tad more there…nothing very major, and if you could actually spot the changes, I'd be very happy because that would mean you paid attention the first time 'round.
Oh wait, I did change some stuff—namely chapters 9 and 10. Changed them a lot. I overhauled that part for many reasons—the main one being that I didn't like the direction it was going. And since I hit a wall and hadn't been able to write for the past year (really, very sorry about that) I went back and revised to try and work my way out of the corner. I hope you'll like the changes.
Disclaimer —
The literary genius known as J. K. Rowling owns all HP characters and ideas. The Henson people own Sarah and Co. Sadly, and pathetically, I own…not much and certainly not them.
Chapter Eight—Rainy Day Man
That first weekend at Hogwarts, Sarah went exploring. She spent a day walking around the school grounds, enjoying the moors with their untamed beauty, and the giant lake with the equally giant squid which seemed to like being tickled by students. There were carefully maintained walking paths that trickled all over the grounds and through the safe patch of small woods on the north shore of the lake where she observed a game of capture the frog being played one evening. In contrast, the Forbidden Forest on the south side of the school grounds, looming just beyond Hagrid's hut was a large, menacing line of trees that stretched for miles and looked as deep as it was wide. From that section of trees, there were no happy shouts of laughter, only the occasional howl and the sound of large somethings moving about.
She spent the next day exploring the castle, the heavy rains outside giving her a perfect excuse. She found the Owlery with its hundreds of birds all different shapes and sizes. She located the library and its overseer, Madam Pince, and Sarah wondered if it was a universal truth that school librarians were mean, hard-nosed ladies with unpleasant personalities. She was a little disappointed with Hogwarts' selection of books. Most of them seemed to be research and information related, which was understandable, but they had hardly any leisure reading material. There was a small section for "classic" stories by famous witch and wizard authors that she decided she might like to read sometime.
She discovered the hospital wing and the trophy room and many doors that lead to nowhere and hallways hidden behind tapestries and then she found something that pleased her greatly. Sarah came across a roof-top garden; one of many actually, with a plain three-sided balcony and a short stone balustrade on which to lean. It was a little larger than the dorm room she shared with Pansy and Millicent and it was full to bursting with flowers and plants of all kinds. Though the sun was bright overhead, the flora were wrapped up tight and safely asleep; nightblooming flowers. Sarah made a mental note to come back sometime after dark to witness the plants in their glory.
The entrance to the garden was a small wooden door, circular and reminding her greatly of a hobbit hole, set at a low level into the stone wall of the castle and hidden behind a giant statue of the thirteen-fingered witch of Derbyshire. The door squeaked when she opened it and she found herself ducking quickly through and shutting it behind her.
It wasn't anything obvious like clinging spider webs and forgotten, withered flowers overrun by weeds, but Sarah had a feeling that the garden had few, if any, visitors. There was an air of tranquility to the place that seemed to echo within her and she was reluctant to disturb it. There was a small wrought-iron bistro next to the low railing at the far end of the terrace where someone could sit and enjoy the view of the castle grounds and the Forest in the distance. She liked the place.
When she dreamed at night, Jareth was snappish and distracted.
She enjoyed her weekend of peace.
On Tuesday morning, her essay for Transfigurations was gone. A full two feet of parchment she'd put off all weekend to write and had spent late last night working on, was not where it should have been. She put it in her desk drawer. She knew she put it in her desk drawer. Sarah rummaged frantically through paper and ink and books and other random bits she'd put in her desk, but couldn't find her essay. It was with a feeling of dread turning her stomach that she hurried to class early hoping to speak with Professor McGonagall.
"Yes, Miss Williams?" asked the professor when Sarah stopped at her desk in the front of the classroom. There were papers scattered across the wooden surface, many of them with red markings all across the pages.
"Professor," Sarah began, "I don't know how it happened but my essay for today's class is gone. I'm sorry, I must have misplaced it somewhere because I can't find it and I looked and looked. I know this goes against your policy but could you please grant me an extension or something so that I can find my paper or write you another one?"
Professor McGonagall looked unsympathetically at her and Sarah felt her heart sink. She knew the professor's reply before the woman even opened her mouth.
"No, Miss Williams. My answer is no and always has been. I do not give extensions for students who misplace their work. I suggest that in the future you take extra care of your assignments; your grade in this class depends on it."
"But, Professor!" Sarah begged. "Please, if you would onl…."
"No," cut in McGonagall. "I make exceptions only for extenuating circumstances and this is not such a case." Other students started entering the room then, Crabbe and Theodore followed shortly by Draco and Pansy. Sarah went to her desk and sat, dejected and upset. When Pansy, blonde hair in unflattering little girl ringlets, placed her essay on the professor's desk she turned to look at Sarah with a smug grin and gave a mocking wave. The girl whispered in her boyfriend's ear as they walked to their seats and the two laughed and shared the news with their friends.
Sarah knew then what had happened to her essay.
Blaise sat down beside her with a pleasant greeting and Sarah couldn't tell whether he knew about her problem or not. When he asked her how she thought she did on her paper, it was all she could do not to break down right there in front of him.
Somehow she made it through class without shouting or yelling or crying. She wanted to hurt Pansy, wanted to scream out that it wasn't fair. Instead, Sarah sat quietly through class taking notes and transfigured her textbook into a little textbook-colored bunny which hopped about the room while the other students had less success in their endeavors.
When class was over she rushed out of the room and spent frantic minutes trying to remember the way to the garden she had found. Hermione called out as she ran past, but Sarah didn't respond or even acknowledge that she had seen the Head Girl.
When she found the small door behind the statute she fumbled with the handle and shoved her weight against the wood until it finally opened. She kicked the entrance closed behind her and dropped her bag to the ground, not caring when some of the contents spilled. Turning back to the door, she kicked it again. Again and again until her foot was aching and she feared she might have broken something. She pummeled it with a fist, pain darting up her arm in sharp, jagged lances as screams of fury tore unbidden from her mouth. The solid thunking sound of her shoe hitting the wood and the dull throbbing in her body eased some need within her so that when she ceased her abuse, she was sore but no longer ready to explode.
Taking in gasping breaths and rubbing away the trickle of wetness she felt sliding down her cheeks, she limped over to the table and chairs and sat heavily down, staring morosely out over the grounds. No one seemed to be eating outside today; the dark shadow of clouds lurking over the school was probably the reason. Taking off her shoe and sock she examined her foot and decided that while she didn't seem to have broken anything, her toes had been painfully stubbed and there would be some fantastic bruises forming soon.
Putting her sock and shoe back on she sat staring sulkily at the Forbidden Forest in the distance. Absently she massaged her hand and up her arm to her elbow where the stinging was worst.
The snap of wings and the sound of talons scraping on stone drew her head to the left where she saw an owl settle itself onto the corner railing. She turned forward to ignore the bird and watch the trees. When he made no move to leave, Sarah sighed.
"Go away," her voice sounded hoarse from screaming. The bird didn't twitch and she could feel golden eyes staring at her.
"Please, just leave. I really don't want any company right now." The rain started then, a light misting that seemed like it might continue for the rest of the day. She looked to the sky and let the rain course down her face in droplets that blurred her vision and soothed her raw throat.
After several minutes of sitting, wet and dripping, she took a deep breath and began speaking.
"I like it here, I really do, but the people are making it very difficult for me. I can deal with being ignored, I can deal with that just fine, but I'm not used to such open and active hatred." She was quiet for several moments, feeling the cool water roll down her body, soaking into her clothes and chilling her skin. No doubt she'd get sick if she continued to sit in the rain. "The thing that makes me angriest is that I'm being hated for something I have no control over." The owl made no sound from where he sat, rain sliding off his feathers, but she had the sense that he was listening.
"That stupid hat. That stupid, fucking hat!" she burst out, heat entering her voice. "It's just a way for them to assign students to dorms. The school would have better success to number off the students rather than trying to split them up by personality and characteristics." She was silent, then, "If I'd been put in any other House, I'd have been accepted right away and I wouldn't be this miserable and lonely."
Sarah leaned forward and folded her arms against the table, laying her cheek into the crook of an elbow. "And of course," she continued, voice slightly muffled, "I go and say exactly the wrong thing to the wrong student on the very first day of classes and then he makes it his personal mission to make my life miserable, recruiting his friends to help. Oh, God!" she managed a harsh laugh, "imagine what would have happened if I'd told them my parents are Muggles!
"And now I've gone and become friendly with the Gryffindors, specifically the ones they don't like; so that's another reason for the Slytherins to hate me. Then, today, Draco's girlfriend, Pansy, stole a paper I was supposed to turn in for Professor McGonagall. Probably turned it in as her own. And the professor wouldn't let me have an extension because I'm in Slytherin. If it'd had been a student in any other House, I bet she would have given them time to look for their essay, or maybe have accepted a new one for a reduced grade. But, I'm in Slytherin and therefore I was probably just lying to cover the fact that I didn't do my work."
Sarah knew she sounded whiny and small-minded, but she didn't care. After what she'd put up with, she felt a little complaining on her part was certainly acceptable. She was feeling bitchy and irritable and wanted to spread the gloomy mood to others.
"Do you plan to stay like this all day?" drawled a voice from her left, startling her from her grumpy thoughts. She looked quickly over, drawing up from her slump, and saw Jareth watching her. Gazing at him, she realized this was the first time since running the Labyrinth that they'd come face to face.
He was relaxing against a corner of the railing, arms folded and wearing a hooded cloak that shadowed his face. It was tan and brown and the falling rain beaded off it and fell in rivulets to the stone floor.
"I must say, I thought you stronger than this, Sarah. Sitting in the rain, moping. Not what I expected from you."
"Well, no one invited you here!" she snapped. "I've had a bad day, Goblin King, and I think I'm allowed to mope about it if I want to."
"Do you honestly believe you should have been placed in another House?" he inquired, ignoring her outburst. "I think you're exactly where you should be," his voice was harsh and laced with annoyance.
"What do you mean?" she asked frowning, feeling that she might not like his reply. She pushed wet strands of hair out of her eyes.
His head beneath the hood turned and she caught his profile in the subdued daylight. "Hufflepuffs are loyal and hardworking; you are not. If you were worthy of that House, then you would have worked harder to make friends and you wouldn't be so lonely and malcontent as you are now." He stepped away from the railing, arms crossed and gloved hands cupping his elbows. He followed a walking-path between the garden planters toward her and it took almost everything she had not to retreat from his advance. Even burdened by a cloak, his movements were graceful and entrancing, as they always were, and Sarah watched his approach in troubled fascination.
"The students in Ravenclaw would have been intelligent enough to make a second copy of their work on the chance something should happen to the original. And the Gryffindors, those courageous children, would stand up to their tormentors and face them forthwith. You have not done so, and therefore your placement in Slytherin is correct. Slytherins think only of themselves. They are tricky and conniving creatures who use any means necessary to get what they want." The king's voice dropped to a low hiss and he practically spat out the last part, "They don't take responsibility for their actions."
Sarah, incensed, jumped from her seat to face him. "How dare you!" she cried. "Don't presume to know me. You don't know me!" Her hands were clenched and she trembled with suppressed rage.
"I know you better than you know yourself, foolish girl," he snapped.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" she shouted, her anger finally spilling over, her ire having found a willing target. "I'm having a really bad day! I didn't need you to come here and make me feel worse. I didn't invite you but you showed up and I thought that meant you wanted to listen to my problems."
"Not to the whining of a spoiled little girl. I thought I'd gotten you past that phase."
"So sorry that you had to listen to me vent! That's what I do when I'm upset, Goblin King. That's what lots of people do; we bitch and complain about our problems. If we're lucky, there's someone there with us to try and make us feel better by nodding sympathetically and commiserating about the crappiness of life and unfairness of it all. Then, after we get it out of our system, we get over it!"
"Unfair?" he sneered, his voice so thick with contempt it was a wonder he hadn't choked on the word. The faint, untraceable lilt he spoke with seemed to sharpen and become more pronounced with the heat of his scorn. "I thought you'd learned, Sarah. I thought you understood that lesson."
He stepped a few feet closer, right inside her personal space, making her uncomfortable but she was unwilling to back down from him. She could tell by his body posture that he was furious, could see it in every line of his stance. She felt waves of energy rolling from him; the unmistakable sensation of power and presence she had not felt since her time Underground. He seemed taller and greater and far more alien and other than anything she had ever come across. She was thankful, so very thankful, that his eyes were shadowed by the hood of his cloak. She did not want to see his eyes.
"That life's unfair? Yeah," her tone as heavy with disdain as she could make it, "I got that message, loud and clear." She gestured wildly to the castle behind her, "But considering how I want nothing more than to run in there and tear apart the whole of Slytherin with my bare hands, I think being out here and whining about my problems is the smarter choice." Sarah realized her voice was shaking and her body was fairly buzzing with energy needing to be released in some way or other. Or maybe she was just shivering with the cold.
"You'll let them get away with their pranks?" came his question from beneath the hood. He seemed a little more in control, she no longer felt overwhelmed by the power of his anger. Or maybe that wasn't anger, came the stray thought at what she felt was certainly the wrong time to consider such things, maybe that's just him.
"What do you propose I should do?" she responded, rubbing a hand over her face and through dripping, wet hair. She shifted, wincing as she moved a toe and revived the pain in her abused foot. Her robes were clinging to her body in cold, damp folds of cloth. "Go to my professors and tattle? I have no way to prove that I wrote an essay let alone that someone took it. Should I go and try to hex Pansy; get my revenge that way? What good would that do? She's a prefect and Draco is Head Boy—if I did anything, I'd be getting detention from now until Christmas."
"So you'll give up? Give in?" There was a slight difference to his voice, the tone more dissatisfied than anything else. The threat was gone from his posture, though now she wasn't sure if it had been there at all in the first place.
"No." She hadn't known until just then what she would do, but the answer came to her and she agreed with it. "I can't turn her in for this without proof and I refuse stoop down to her level. I have too much pride for that." Jareth made a sound under his hood and shifted his weight from one booted foot to the other, the cloak swinging about his legs. Sarah had the distinct impression that she'd amused him somehow. She scowled but continued. "I'll just have to deal with this in a reasonable manner. I'll…lock up all my assignments, transfigure them into something else, turn them invisible or whatever. I could probably even give them to my professors as soon as I'm done instead of keeping them in my dorm."
"You're going to accept persecution and the loss of grade in your class because you don't wish to cause a ruckus?" She could hear the surprise in his voice. Whatever had caused his wrath before had certainly left him now.
"I'm going to inform the Head Girl of what happened so that she can make a record of my complaint. Since I doubt Pansy was smart enough to think about it, I probably still have my rough drafts in my trashcan; I'm going to rewrite my essay and turn it in to Professor McGonagall so that she can see I'm not some lazy, lying Slytherin. I'll tell her that I think someone took my other one, but I have no way to prove it. I don't really care if she accepts it for a grade or not; it's only one assignment. I will go and tell Pansy that should my homework go missing again I'll report everything to Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore and that I have no problem whatsoever with arranging a meeting for the five of us." She finished quickly, the words almost tumbling from her mouth in her fervor.
The rain was letting up, easing to the barest sprinkle. Sarah was wet completely through, but at the moment she didn't care. She watched as Jareth reached one gloved hand up and readjusted his hood, pulling it back a little now that water was no longer such a hazard. She could see the lines of his pale face below and the almost-glow of his eyes from the slight shadow the cowl created.
"That's your great plan?" was all he asked, which disappointed Sarah greatly. She thought it a fine idea. He snorted lightly and turned from her, following a walking-path toward a large marble planter by the garden door.
"Well, I certainly don't feel like going and starting a hexing war with the girl and her friends. I don't think it would end well…for me."
"You were not taught self defense?" the question came out hard as he whirled to face her, his cloak flaring in a dramatic sweep.
"Well, yes, I was," she said, caught off guard at his show of emotion, "but I'm not stupid enough to try and take on six Slytherins from my year and whichever younger ones they manage to recruit. I have to live with these people. I'd like to get through the school year without constantly fearing an attack."
"The Wizarding world is at war, Sarah, or hadn't you realized?"
"Yes, I know that. But what does that have to do with Pansy and Draco?"
A gloved hand cupped an elbow while the other rose to tap his cheek, his head tilting slightly. He studied her for a moment, as though considering whether to answer. Finally, he pursed his lips and ignored her question. "You could, of course," he offered in a smooth voice that sent chills all over her body, "wish your enemies over to me." He smile was nasty as he gave his suggestion. "Having bested the Labyrinth, the same Rules no longer apply. You could spend hours in my castle watching the little miscreants run afoul of the more unpleasant inhabitants of my kingdom. It would be quite amusing, I assure you."
She couldn't help the sharp bark of laughter that escaped her mouth. "Ha! It's a nice thought. Thanks, but no."
"Perhaps you'll change your mind."
Sarah found herself enjoying the way he looked silhouetted in the dim daylight. Gray clouds were still overhead, covering the entire sky and shading everything in a half-light. She hadn't realized she was staring at him until he spoke and startled her from her reverie.
"Feeling better?" he asked, his voice calm and even, head still angled, loose strands of hair blowing slightly in the wind.
"I…" she started, "yes, I am." Sarah was amazed to realize it was true. The anger that had been simmering just below her surface had bubbled over while she shouted at Jareth and now there was none left.
"Good."
'Good?' she thought. What does he mean by that? And why does he sound so smug about it? When the answer came to her, she groaned and stared at him in disbelief. "You were doing that on purpose! Why?" she asked incredulously.
"To bring you out of your doldrums, of course."
"By pissing me off? There are other ways to go about making me feel better!"
He shot her an annoyed glance. "It worked, did it not? I should think you'd be more appreciative. I did you a great service."
"Oh, no," Sarah scoffed, sarcasm threading her voice, "you're not conceited at all. Humble as the day you were born, I bet."
"I, ungrateful child, was not born."
"What?" she asked, falling off her soap box at his abrupt declaration. "What do you mean you weren't born?"
"It is as I said."
She blinked at him and wasn't quite sure how to continue. She wanted to ask him questions but knew it would unbearably rude. "Oh," was all she managed, to her chagrin. She flushed and tried to change the subject. "Er, well, then thank you. For, um, making me feel better. I…appreciate it."
He eyed her as if he didn't quite believe her sincerity. And considering her deliverance, she didn't blame him. "You're welcome," he said after a moment. "I think it is past time you went inside. You've missed half a class, I believe."
"Only History. I doubt if the professor's noticed my absence, anyway."
"Not that you seem to pay much attention. That little book of yours is getting quite full."
She shook her head in wonderment, sending drops of water flying and plastering wet hair to her face and neck. She peeled those off and studied Jareth for a moment. "You know, for some reason that I don't understand, the thought of you spying on me doesn't bother me as much as I know it should. I think…if you were anyone else, I'd feel differently."
"Why, Sarah," he began, as he pushed back his hood and she was able to look fully upon his face. The rain had stopped, aside from the few odd drops that fell from tree branches and dripped off the roof of the castle. "Are you saying that you trust me?"
Did she? That was the crux of the matter. She did. Damn, she thought. When did that happen?
She didn't want to say it, didn't want to confess, but there was a twisting in her gut that said if she didn't, she'd regret it. "Yes," she admitted finally. "I think I do, to some small extent." A smug, triumphant grin worked its way onto Jareth's face and she almost regretted her words, wished to take them back. "Please…don't abuse it," was what she settled on.
He arched an eyebrow at her, smirk still on his lips, and nodded once in acknowledgement. "You have my word," he promised in such a way that Sarah was not relieved of her anxiety.
"Now," he said in a tone that caught her by surprise, "get to class. I did not pay for you to come here only to skip out on your lessons. Or," he paused and looked her over with a slight frown, one hand on his hip, the other tapping a pattern on the balustrade, "perhaps your History class can be missed today. A trip to the hospital wing and a change of clothes might be of more importance."
Sarah was confused at his apparent interest in her welfare and tried to cover it with a smart-alecky remark. "You think?"
"On occasion," he replied, unperturbed by her tone. He nodded toward the small door in the castle wall, "Go, before you become ill."
Sarah sighed but limped in her uncomfortable, wet clothes to grab her bag from where she had dropped it, noting absently that it was soaked completely through; her books and papers inside no doubt ruined. She curled her lip in annoyance and resigned herself to having wrinkled textbooks that made crinkly noises whenever she flipped a page.
"Sarah," called Jareth from behind her, "catch." She turned in time to see a glass orb flying toward her face. She caught it reflexively and nearly dropped it when she realized what it was. She looked to Jareth with a question but he was gone in a sudden shattering of displaced light. In her hand the crystal popped.
Sarah was even more startled when she realized that her robes were no longer wet; they were still uncomfortable and clingy, her skirt underneath was stiff and itchy, but they were dry. Searching through her bag, the supplies within it were perfectly unharmed.
She was smiling to herself when she shuffled back into the school.