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 —
If the characters were mine, I'd have made Jareth take off his shirt and have Snape's hair turn pink at some point.
Chapter Nine—In the Flesh
Sarah had been at school for over a month and things had gotten significantly better. Most of the Slytherins still ignored her (which she felt was better than being harassed) and once the craziness and novelty of being at Hogwarts had settled down, she realized that not every Slytherin was part of Draco's gang. Quite a few weren't, actually.
Though he had certainly done a nice job dominating the group his own age, it was the Slytherins just a year or two younger who, while leery of his power as Head Boy, did not obey his every whim. Perhaps, having known Draco when he was still on the lower rungs of the House ladder, the other students had decided the boy wasn't as intimidating as he thought himself to be. It was the newer pupils, the unformed individuals still easily influenced by others, upon whom Draco gleefully exercised his authority. Of course, the younger students were eleven, twelve, and thirteen-years-old and Sarah didn't find them very intimidating at all. While the Slytherin students did not place themselves in the line of fire by trying to be friends with her, if an association developed—then that was that.
Esmerelda DeVilbiss, the sixth-year Slytherin in her Current Magical Events Class, was paired with Sarah for a class assignment and for those few days, the girls got along very well, each doing their share of work with no major problems arising. When the project was over, Esmerelda continued her camaraderie, the two of them sitting next to each other in class and sometimes studying together in the Slytherin common room.
Blaise had a large circle of friends in Slytherin, mostly fifth and sixth-years to whom he introduced Sarah. It also seemed he was on sociable terms with several Ravenclaws and a few Hufflepuffs he had had classes with throughout the years. Sarah refrained from pointing out that his non-Slytherin friends were all pure-bloods and would freely tell you that fact.
Millicent Bulstrode along with Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were good henchpersons but not that creative when it came to actually bullying someone. They left that to Draco and Pansy. It had taken Sarah some time to realize that most of the actual harassment came from Pansy, not Draco. The blond boy had been leaving her mostly alone, aside from making a nasty comment whenever they passed each other in the hallways or maybe throwing something at her in class—an activity Sarah found very childish. But really, he seemed to have backed off and let Pansy do as she would.
After the homework incident, Sarah began to lock all her books and assignments in her trunk. Her belongings were put away and her section of the room looked empty and plain. She was very careful not to leave anything sitting out—items like bed sheets and pillows could not be hid at all times and Sarah very quickly became acquainted with the house-elves who cared for the Slytherin dorms. Trudee and Binna were always happy to clean whatever mess was left on Sarah's bed (a pile of dragon dung for example) and if her clothes were found damaged, they were quickly repaired, good as new, without even a scorch mark or a patch job. Sarah blessed her friendship with the Gryffindors boys for the wonderful knowledge of where the house-elves were to be found.
Over the course of the month, Sarah split her time between Blaise and his circle of friends and the Gryffindors and the friends she had made over there. Hermione and the boys were happy to have Sarah sit with them during meal times and eventually some of the others came around as well. Neville continued to blush red whenever she was near while Seamus and Dean seemed interested in having her spill dirty Slytherin secrets and were disappointed when she informed them she knew none. Ginny Weasley introduced Sarah to her group of friends one day after art class and Sarah was happy to finally meet some Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and not have them back away in dislike.
Her life at Hogwarts was much improved and Sarah was finally feeling a measure of happiness.
"He's staring at you again," muttered Ginny while she buttered her scone. Glancing over her shoulder at the Slytherin table, Sarah saw Draco Malfoy watching her with a scowl. His pale eyes met her dark ones and it was a long moment before she saw him snort and turn away.
"He doesn't like the fact that I sit over here with you guys. He'd much rather I be over at the House table," Sarah explained returning to her breakfast, "even if it's with Blaise and his friends. More acceptable that way, I guess. Though he doesn't really like me being friendly with Blaise, either."
"He doesn't like you, but wants you to sit at the Slytherin table anyway because he doesn't want you sitting with Gryffindor," muttered Ron shaking his head. "I don't know how you put up with that bloody prat."
Sarah heaved a heavy, dramatic sigh. "Day by day, Ronald. Day…by… day." The redhead lobbed a biscuit at her which bounced off her shoulder and landed on her plate. Sarah laughed and reached for the marmalade.
She was half-listening to a heated conversation between the Gryffindor Quidditch players about the upcoming match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff when she heard a noise that made the hair all along her body stand up and take note. Schhhhhk. It was low and continuous and very familiar. It was a noise she'd heard before, one that always drew her attention no matter what she was doing. It sounded like glass on stone. Rolling glass on stone.
Twisting in her seat and leaning around Hermione, Sarah was able to see what was creating the sound. Traversing the stone floor, dodging students' hands and swerving around feet and bags, a round object was making its way across the room. Small, perfectly round and clear, it deftly avoided Harry's fingers as he bent to grab it and instead bounced onto the bench next to Ginny and then to the tabletop where it rolled to a stop by Sarah's breakfast plate.
She frowned and felt a headache forming.
"What is it, Sarah?" asked Lavender a couple seats down.
"A Remembrall?" guessed Neville with a frown. "I have one of those…somewhere."
"No," said Sarah, sampling the words on her tongue and inwardly laughing. "It's a crystal, nothing more." Oh, how bittersweet that tasted! "But if I turn it this way…." Dubious and almost fearful, she turned the orb in her hand—and didn't see anything. It remained clear and empty, reflecting the early morning light and the curious faces of her friends. She was slightly disappointed. "Just a crystal."
Making a noise in her throat, she shrugged and steadied the orb on the wooden surface to see what (if anything) would happen. It shifted immediately, rolling around platters and cups to the edge of the table and dropped to the floor with soft tinking noises. Sarah watched it circle her feet a couple times then move into the isle between the tables. Where it seemed to wait.
It wants me to follow it, she realized vaguely. How irritating. She rolled her eyes and heaved an aggrieved sigh in the hopes that a certain someone would see and feel annoyed. Gathering her newspaper and stuffing it into her book bag, she took leave of her friends.
"I have to go somewhere, you guys. I'll see you later."
"Anything wrong, Sarah?" asked Seamus who was trying to nudge the sphere with his toe, but the crystal merely swerved out of the way.
"No, no. I think I just need to be somewhere right now, that's all. I'll see you in class." She followed the crystal out of the hall.
The crystal zipped down corridors, leading her on a merry chase; it paused for her to open doors, and waited for staircases to stop moving. When she rounded a corner and saw the approaching statue of the thirteen-fingered witch of Derbyshire, she had a good idea of where the little crystal was rolling. Behind the statue and through the open door, Sarah was hit with a blast of sunshine and the crisp scent of dying summer. Squinting against the sudden light, she saw the lean figure of Goblin King sitting on the far side of the terrace balcony, beyond the trellises and potted plants, his back to her and his feet dangling toward the ground.
Sarah walked up to him, pausing a short distance away. The crystal was motionless at her feet.
Since that day a few weeks ago when she had come out here in the rain and been a soggy, moping mess, this was the only time she had seen him appear in person at Hogwarts; he usually kept their conversations confined to when she slept. They would occur in secluded locales she did not recognize and they would speak about her classes or current events. Occasionally they would appear in a town or village somewhere (always a Wizarding community) and Sarah would be quietly amused at some quirk or other she would observe in him—like his caffeine addiction and penchant for live music.
One night, they'd sat with a hundred other couples in the exquisite gardens of Warrick House and listened to an all-night special engagement concert by several different performers. They'd wandered out of a thick wood on the distant edge of the estate just as the sun was setting and crossed an immaculately manicured lawn, joining other couples out for an evening stroll. When they reached the House, the moon was high and candles were being lit and sent floating across the grounds to lure in any straggling guests. He'd pulled out her chair for her when they found their table and Sarah stubbornly ignored the little voice in her head which cheerfully pointed out that the whole affair felt rather like a date.
That next morning, there had been a small article on the gala in the Daily Prophet; part of the entertainment section. There had been one photo of the crowd, of a few tables next to the stage where the siblings Gideon, Galahad, and Galadriel Goodner had been singing. The picture showed the table where she and Jareth had sat (as evidenced by its position to the stage and the unique, tap dancing orchid centerpiece that had been on display) and it worried Sarah somewhat that their table was occupied by another couple; a little old witch and wizard, the gentleman with an ear trumpet.
She had been there, she knew she had. She remembered the performers and the songs they sang. She had watched Jareth as he sat with his eyes closed, relaxed and languid, listening in obvious pleasure to the sounds of the human voice and the exquisite beauty of mandolin and violin. She remembered distinctly the feeling of hazy heat and the lull of song. It was also on that spectacular evening that Sarah realized she liked the Goblin King.
It happened that night, she was sure of that, but when exactly—that was the mystery. She would have thought there would have been a great epiphany involved, a light bulb (or perhaps a candle flame) flaring over her head as she came to the realization. But no, no bright light or the shifting of the universe as everything came into alignment—just the quiet acceptance that yes, Jareth was an interesting individual and yes, she did enjoy spending time with him. When he wasn't purposefully trying to annoy her, he could be quite pleasing.
Her small bit of trust had turned into something a bit more.
Uncomfortable with her thoughts, Sarah turned her mind around to the present and the sight of the Goblin King before her. Or the back of him, anyway. "Was there anything in particular you wanted?" she asked.
"No," he replied, not turning to face her. His head was tilted slightly and the wind was playing with the wild lengths of his hair. The shirt he wore was a deep blue that seemed to change tints whenever he shifted.
"Well, what are you doing here, then?"
"Enjoying the scenery." She caught the smile in his voice and decided that he was in one of his moods. Sarah shook her head at the thought of a man who changed humors as quickly as the Goblin King did. Of course, he wasn't really a man, not as she knew them. He wasn't human—he was male. What exactly he was, she didn't know.
She let her bag drop to the ground as she reached for the crystal at her feet. It was cool and cradled against her palm in the nicest way. Stepping beneath a garden arch, she made her way to the balcony where Jareth sat. Turning her back to the open grounds of Hogwarts, she leaned against the railing and held out the crystal to him. "Here."
His eyes slid briefly to her hand and the object on it before returning to their survey of the land. Lowering her arm, Sarah glanced briefly behind her and spied a practice game of Quidditch being played on the far-off pitch. She couldn't tell which team it was.
"That crystal," he spoke, "is yours to keep."
"Oh?" She licked her lips and rolled the orb between her hands. The words came out soft and without her consent, gently mocking. "A gift?"
"Indeed," was his bland reply, having missed or chosen to ignore her jibe. "Set it rolling and it will take you wherever or to whomever you desire, within a reasonable distance, of course."
"That's all?"
"Well, should it start traveling on its own, I'd suggest you follow where it leads."
"You interrupted my breakfast to tell me this?" Her voice was cross as she struggled to remove her school robe and set it on the balustrade beside her, the crystal placed securely on the folds of cloth. "Couldn't this conversation have waited until tonight?"
His mouth pursed in what she was sure was annoyance and Sarah hid her smile. "For the most part, your dreams shall now once again be your own."
"For the most part?" she repeated.
He flicked a strand of blond hair away from his eyes and flashed a sharp grin. "Surely you don't enjoy spending all your time in this school? I'd have thought you would take pleasure in the occasional night away."
"I've been meaning to ask you about that," she began, changing the subject with a slight frown. "The concert we went to, there was an article about it in the newspaper except that we weren't in a picture when we should have been."
"You recall the event—the musicians, their songs, the night breeze that drifted through your hair and brought the scent of autumn?"
"Yes."
"Then it was real. Although a photograph might indicate otherwise, we were there."
She rolled her eyes at his blasé declaration of such an impossible feat. "You seem to change the rules of reality fairly often," she observed with a slight scowl.
"No more so than you," came his swift reply. Jareth leaned down until his face was inches from her own, his strange eyes searching hers. "Perhaps you should reconsider your definition of 'reality'."
"What do you mean?" she asked softly, confused and a little startled by his close proximity. Sarah felt his warm breath drift lightly over her cheek, sending shivers tingling down her spine. His eyes, so eerily beautiful with their unusual markings and dissimilar pupils, were heavy with the power she always felt when he was around. He cocked his head to the side as he considered her, some of his pale hair hiding his expression and breaking the pull of his gaze.
"Things change," was the off-hand response as he drew back, "whether we will them or no."
Glancing nervously away, she busied her hands with smoothing her skirt and tucking wayward hair behind an ear. "Yes, you're right," she managed after a moment, "but when I change something, it's not the fundamental laws of the universe."
He shot her an amused look. "So sure about that, Sarah?" he asked, an unknown humor lacing his voice.
"I…had been," was her slow reply as she turned, leaning her elbows on the railing. The view before her was particularly beautiful, the early morning sun creating a wash of golden light over the trees and fields. After a moment of silence, she curved her neck to study him. "Are you suggesting otherwise?"
"I am encouraging you not to become mired in the beliefs and ways of humanity—they know nothing about the world in which they live." His strange eyes caught hers and despite the sun shining keenly on her and the hothouse spell creating a steady blanket of heat, she shivered with sudden cold. "You are a dreamer, Sarah," he stated finally. "A rare enough occurrence in this modern world of man. Don't let them destroy you."
His face was so solemn it took her by surprise. Usually there was an animation to his countenance; a smirk or upraised eyebrow indicative of amusement, a crease on his forehead when he was displeased. The seriousness he was trying to convey had wiped his face and left him looking worn and tired—weighed down by something she couldn't name or understand.
"I've always been a dreamer," she tried to assure him with a quirky smile. "I don't think that's going to change anytime soon." She made a wide, sweeping gesture with her hand, "I'm in a castle learning magic and having a conversation with the Goblin King. This isn't exactly the stuff of your everyday average, humdrum life."
"Perhaps not—but months, years from now, when this will be your everyday average, humdrum life, of what will you dream then?"
"Something new, I guess. They change all the time." Sarah laughed quietly as she thought back a few short years. She'd wanted everything, demanding the role of both the damsel-in-distress and the heroine, never caring the cost of her actions. She got her whirlwind adventure—but lost some of herself in the process. Her old dreams transformed, grew into something new over time. And she'd changed with them.
"My dreams," she murmured thoughtfully, staring down at her hands, "I have so many. Sometimes they're here and gone before I really got a chance to know what they were."
"Yes," he agreed in a noncommittal voice. "You are the dreaming kind."
"That's a funny way of putting it," she commented, mulling over the words. Sarah looked up at him, eyes wide at a stray thought. "Is that what you meant, from before? When you said Toby and I had become like you? That…you're a dreamer?"
His serious look turned sly and there was a definite upturn at the corner of his mouth. "Not exactly," was his only reply.
"Well," she asked, her curiosity roused, "what are you? You're not human, I'm pretty sure of that."
Jareth threw back his head and laughed; honest delight heavy in the tone. She could not remember ever hearing him so openly amused. Sarah found she liked the sound of his laughter—even if it was at her expense. "No. I am not human," he agreed as his chuckles quieted.
"So…" she prompted, waving a hand for him to continue.
His voice was honey-smooth and thick with mirth. "I? I am merely a figment of your imagination."
"I was being serious," she groused, pushing away from the banister.
"So you were," he agreed, looking at her over his shoulder. A sharp grin was on his face and she knew his teasing humor had returned.
Irritated, she gathered up her school robe, slipping the crystal into a pocket. "I hate it when you do this. Don't think I hadn't noticed that you're not really answering my questions," she declared, wagging a finger in his face. "We've spent this entire time having a run-around conversation that hardly made sense because you're trying to annoy me by being secretive."
His grin turned positively wicked as he again laughed. "Yes," he agreed. Jareth pushed himself off the balcony and, as Sarah watched, became the tawny owl and flew across the grounds.
Oh, and if any of you are wondering about the trio of G-named singers, they're based loosely around the group Nickel Creek. I was listening to their song Sweet Afton while writing that part.