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Blood Price

Chapter 8: Pacific to Psychosis

(A.N.) I felt so bad for only posting a really boring chapter that was actually pretty bad, so I typed this up. It's better, or I think it is, at the very least. Enjoy. And thank Serpent of Slytherin for beta'ing by reading her most awesome HP stories.

Why… the hell… did I agree to come?

The two weeks before the Hogsmeade trip had flown by quickly, the days a hustled routine. I had gotten used to the castle of Hogwarts and had spent all my free time seeking out secret passageways, hidden doors, and secluded rooms for me to hide in. By day, I went to class, got bored, and completed assignments mechanically. By night however, I rushed through my homework and then hid myself away in the small havens I'd discovered. It was easier—no, safer—to be alone. People tend to ask questions if you pull out a sharp instrument of some sort and make shallow, heavenly cuts across your abdomen.

So why the fuck am I going on the stupid trip?

You're trying to be normal again, Samara, said the Voice matter-of-factly, speaking in a smooth and soothing tone. You wanted to be friends with them.

Grudgingly, I admitted to myself that the Voice was right. Every night, I saw the Red Room in my dreams. And each time, I was closer and closer to the bodies on the floor, and their eyes seemed to scream my guilt back at me. After each dream, my pain, my grief, my…loneliness increased tenfold.

Samara, you don't need to be lonely. I'm always here, always here to bring you back from that wicked place, the Voice whispered, and then, with a slight edge, added, Aren't I?

Yes, yes you are.

I was starting to have longer and longer conversations with the Gray Voice. It didn't just come to rescue me from the Room anymore. Now, it was like a confidant or a counselor right inside my head. I had come to trust it, even rely on its advice sometimes. Crazy as it sounds, it was the honest truth.

Of course, I was far from being sane and stable, wasn't I?

Pulling on my black student's cloak, I made my way to the Great Hall where the students going to Hogsmeade were gathering en masse, debating with myself the entire way. Snape, the bloody bastard, and McGonagall, my…ah…detention-sitter, if you will, were standing at the head of the chattering throng.

I actually kind of liked McGonagall, despite the fact that I had detention with her for about another month for sending the Weasley girl's would-be killer to the Hospital Wing. I like the fact that her lips had twitched in slight amusement as she informed me at my first session that I had broken twelve of his bones (not including fingers, which I also shattered) and that forcing him to ingest bubotuber pus was "wholly unacceptable". Plus, she was a competent teacher, not like that quack Trelawney.

As I navigated through the crowd, I kept an eye out for Ginny's unmistakable red hair. Quickly spotting her, I managed to reach her and her friends without having to blow anyone out of my bloody path with my wand.

The same people from the infirmary were with her, plus two extras. Her brother, Ron, stood between her and Harry Potter. No one in Slytherin, apparently, liked Harry Potter, being the "Boy Who Lived" and all. Frankly, I could care less if he was Bozo the Bloody Fucking Clown, I would either like him or hate him depending on his personality. They hated Ron on principle for being Potter's friend. The other familiar face was Hermione Granger, whiz-girl and A+ student extraordinaire. No body in Slytherin was overly fond of her either, mostly because she was, like Ron, Potter's friend, and she got better grades than them, and…well…

Because Malfoy, apparently leader of all Slytherin House, hated all of the "Golden Trio".

Another boy, a sixth year I assumed, stood with them. I sort of knew him from Herbology class. Name of…Norman?

….No….um…Neville? Yeah, Neville…Neville Longbottom, I believe.

And next to him, speaking peacefully with Ginny was Luna. The only reason I knew Luna Lovegood is that, well…it was complicated.

Spotting me, Ginny reached out and snagged my arm, pulling me into the direct middle of their group. She smiled enthusiastically, saying, "Hey! For a second, I thought you were going to bail on us."

I just smiled slightly, tactfully deciding not to tell her that the thought had crossed my mind more than once. A lot more than once.

"Now, I know you know my brother, Harry, and 'Mione, but I want to introduce you to N—."

"Neville Longbottom," I finished for her, "We have Herbology together." Turning to Luna, I continued, "And I already know Luna, as well."

Everyone but Luna gaped. I guess they had a good reason. When would I have met her? It's not like I make a habit of conversation or anything.

Sighing, I looked at the younger girl. I guess I was going to have to explain. "I babysat Luna during the summers before she came to Hogwarts. Her father is my third cousin by marriage through my adoptive mother's step-father's side." Blank looks. "It was a small town."

"So…" Ron said, after a minute of relative silence within our group, "You're not actually related?"

Luna smiled that dreamy smile of hers. "No, we are."

"But…but how?" Neville asked. Poor boy, he looked so confused.

"Ask the Karnaka Kippel," Luna answered mildly, still smiling.

Ron and Harry opened their mouths.

"Don't," I commanded tiredly, "You wouldn't get it, and if you did… Well… Let's leave it at that you don't want to know."

"That's right, Sammy," Luna remarked, silvery eyes shining. I winced at her nick-name for me. "That one is our secret."

Yeah, because I had made the story up to comfort her after her mom's death. The girl had a terrific imagination, so I had tried to entertain her, little ghost she'd been, and is. It wasn't until later that I realized that she had slipped a bit farther from the reality the rest of us were experiencing into a world of her own design. Her father hadn't been much help either. The man was loonier than she was.

"Did Loopy Luna Lovegood just call you 'Sammy'?" someone drawled from behind me. That someone had a sickeningly familiar voice. Please, don't be…

I turned around.

…Malfoy.

God, just what I needed. The guy just wasn't content with the tolerance I afforded him. It wasn't just that he was a jerk, a playboy, and a Death Eater's son. He was also…charming with me. Ever since the scene in Potions two weeks ago and the following events in the infirmary, he'd been going out of his way to be nice to me. It was annoying as hell. He still followed me around like a lost dog and watched me closely as per his orders, but he didn't intrude all that often anymore. It made him a bit likable, if not more than a bit stalker-like.

Well, that and the fact that he was still drop dead sexy, but that had nothing to do with anything.

Oh, who am I kidding?!

You're certainly not fooling me, the Voice interjected.

I do not need your help when my problem is that my hormones are raging and making me horny!

The Voice chuckled, and then faded away.

It did that a lot.

"Malfoy," I addressed my stalker, "know now that Luna is the only person living who can get away with calling me 'Sammy'. Anyone else will experience pain beyond their wildest nightmare."

He smirked. It was a really nice smirk… Gah! Dammit!

"Is that so?" he mused out loud.

"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry growled from Ginny's side, "No one invited you."

"Ah, but you did, Potter," Malfoy replied maliciously. "When you invited Samara, you invited me."

That, that arrogant prick! "I do not need a babysitter, Malfoy."

He gave me a look that clearly disagreed. Aloud, he told me, "Maybe, maybe not, but if I let you out of my sight, Snape will have my head. Literally."

Well, fuck… He was right.

Sighing, I glanced at Ginny. "I loathe my life."

She patted my back sympathetically. "I feel your pain."

Actually, she didn't, and I hoped she never would.

"Aw, come on, Shoreglade," Malfoy said, sauntering up and draping a casual arm around my shoulders. "I'm not that bad."

"No," Ron agreed, "you're worse."

"And yet, Weaselbee, no one seemed to ask you," was Malfoy's chilly and mocking reply.

"Why you—!" the red head growled, taking a step forward.

There was way too much testosterone in the air. I swear, men need to think with something other than their hormones.

Malfoy started playing idly with a strand of my hair near my neck. My body shivered and I blushed profusely.

Okay, so maybe I can't talk about being ruled by hormones.

"Ron, be reasonable," pleaded Hermione, "Remember what happened the last time."

"Yes, Weasley, remember what happened the last time," Malfoy mimicked, still running a nonchalant hand through my hair.

Damn. Being petted isn't so bad.

Are you a dog then? asked the Voice curiously, with a distinct edge to it.

Well, no, but that doesn't alter the fact that it feels good.

I thought you hated the boy.

I don't hate him! I just don't like him! Wait, why am I defending myself? I don't need to justify myself to you.

Don't you?

Choosing to ignore the demanding Voice, I turned my attention back to the outside world. Harry had put a restraining hand on Ron's arm, while Hermione and Ginny tried to sooth him verbally.

It wasn't working.

"I don't want to calm down! Just let me go and I'll turn the evil son of a bitch into a dead one! A dead, twisted corpse! It wouldn't take that long! Let me at him!"

The words triggered something in the back of my mind, something dark and terrifying that I knew I didn't want to see.

The world got very narrow and surreal.

"Ron—," Ginny tried, sounding far away.

"No! I am going to hex him into a bloody, sodding oblivion!"

Oblivion… A bloody oblivion?

Cold, gone, red, black.

You know what to do, girl.

Drip, drip, drip… Crimson droplets hit a floor no one else could see.

Do it.

A little body, so tiny and frail, in a bloody sundress.

Do it, Samara!

No knife. I have no knife.

DO IT!

"Samara! Can you hear me? SAMARA!"

Like waking suddenly from a trance, I jerked back into reality. I looked up at Ginny, Luna, and Malfoy. I could distantly make out Ron, Harry, and Neville in the background.

Up? But Ginny and Luna were both shorter than me…

"Can you stand, Samara?" Malfoy inquired, voice in my ear, "I would like my shoulder back."

What?

I realized that I was sprawled on the floor, leaning against Malfoy with my head on his shoulder. Luna and Ginny each hand one of my hands clasped between theirs, crouched next to me.

"I can stand," I mumbled. Jesus, this is embarrassing. I knew I shouldn't have come!

Ginny and Luna yanked me to my feet.

"That, Weaselbee," Malfoy drawled, standing and brushing off his trousers, "is why I'm coming."

Ron opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by McGonagall's powerful, commanding voice.

"Let's go! Stay together and do not run!"

We all ran. Even me, though I didn't know why.

(A.N.) Hope you liked it. Please be cool and review.