Title: Black and Deep Desires
By: Dr. Kim-chan
Me: Hello again! Again, I apologize for the lateness of the last chapter. Do you know how hard it is to think of Harry's worst fear when he's seen hell and worse? And now, between Plushie recently being sent off to Alcoholics Anonymous and Harry and Ron frozen stiff, Lucius is all I have left, and he's no picnic without Ron around for him to ogle. Then again, that's all we need.
Lucius: Today we have the third and final one of the Three Biggest Fears—my snookie-wookie poogle bear Ron!
Me: (gapes in surprise) Lucius, that's too OOC even for a crazy fanfic authoress like me, and you know what happens to muses who become OOC. (shoots him with a tranquilizer dart)
Lucius: Zzzzzzzzzz…
Me: Great. There goes my last muse. Guess that means all my muses are MIA (missing in action for the non-Army types) as of now. Fortunately, I just got a call from St. Mungo's. Draco should be back by the time I start Chapter 33, the tranquilizers in Lucius should wear off in a few hours, and Ron and Harry are currently unfreezing themselves. By the degree of Plushie's addiction, though, it's gonna take him much more time.
Lucius: Zzzzzzzzzzzzz…
Me: (lays blanket over him) Nighty night, Luci. (rubs hands together) Been a while since I drew back on my own creativity. Let's see what the Good Doc can come up with. You know what they say: save the best for last. Rolling! (clicks remote)
(Begin Chap. 32)
…It's been heard time and time again; the infamous phrase "between a rock and a hard place". Two inescapable realities, virtually impossible to decide between them. Are they either capable of unspeakable devastation or immense pleasure? The dilemma Ron had been facing up until now—choosing between friend Harry Potter and stranger Lucius Malfoy—wasn't considered, at least in his eyes, as that uncomfortable spot. It was simply a matter of choice. A very difficult choice, but still a choice.
But after the time Ron just spent with Hermione, he was pressed into that metaphorical space so tightly it threatened to steal away his very life…
"I hate to say this, Ron, but it won't be any better for you to figure it out later than now. Whatever you choose, you still could end up miserable. Think about it. Harry's way too busy and way too distraught to have a girlfriend—or a boyfriend. We both know it's top priority for him to defeat Voldemort right now, and he can't have any more people close to him hurt. That's why he broke up with Cho."
"Are you sure it wasn't because she was still going all loony over Diggory?"
"I'm serious, Ron!"
"Well, you telling me I have no hope isn't making me feel any better! Can I at least ask Harry before I just give up on him?"
A long pause.
"I guess I can't stop you...but just swear to me one thing. Even if Harry says no, don't go back to Mr. Malfoy."
"But I made a promise—"
"That "promise" meant nothing to him. Are you really going to put your life into the hands of Mr. Malfoy? No rejection is worth that! It wasn't that long ago when we fought him in the Department of Mysteries. He lied once before to escape Azkaban; he's still an alleged Death Eater, he took you hostage—"
"Yeah, I get the point."
"I don't think you do! Honestly, Ron, I thought you had more common sense…"
The call of the Slytherin Quidditch captain filtered through the tarp under the stands. The wind was particularly strong today as it forced the tarp to do a wild dance. Under it, Ron leaned on one of the wooden posts, scowling darkly. What was most disconcerting about the entire situation was that, as everyone should know by now, Hermione was usually, if not always, right about matters. On the other hand, Ron argued stubbornly over and over in his mind, no person was capable of knowing everything.What did she know about feelings? About love? She never stepped foot inside the Malfoy Manor. She hadn't been there to witness the odd, yet captivating transformation the notorious Death Eater had made. Voldemort had already killed his wife, so what else did Lucius have to gain?
What if, for once, Hermione Granger was actually wrong?
Even if she hadn't put forth her comments, the decision was already made. He hadn't wanted to admit it to Hermione; then they would have actually agreed on something.
He had been planning to quit on Harry Potter the entire time.
He could have simply let it go, and they wouldn't have said anything more about it. Nevertheless, Harry just had to have the urge to pursue the facts of the case, to seek uncomfortable truths and solve them as best as he could. But not even the Boy Who Lived could solve everything. There was no point in solving the tangled emotions of a teenage boy, a boy prone to act upon those emotions. There was no point in figuring out the invisible string which connected the hearts of both this boy and a Death Eater unsure of his own soul. But then the recurring doubts always came back. That string could be powerful, but betrayal could snip it in an instant. What could he do? To whom could he turn to now? There was no point in anything anymore.
In a strange, split second of coincidence, just as the captain was calling the end to practice Ron made a little choking sound and rubbed his itching eyes.
…Graceful as rain dropping down from the sky, Blaise Zabini dismounted his Nimbus 2001 and stepped down onto the grass. The same, commonplace practice. Wait for one of the empty-headed Beaters to clear the way, then move in, take the Quaffle, and take care of business. Now he knew how Seekers felt, just sitting on their brooms until that ball flew into sight. Anyone could very well say that the Slytherin team was merciless, but they were repetitive if anything. A small part of his conscience whispered to him that he should tell the captain that if they focused on nothing but Chaser-hunting tactics, the other teams would catch on and take advantage of their weak defense. Then again, even if they were his fellow Slytherins, he had no mercy for simpletons. It was a long shot, but they'd figure it out eventually.
He started to walk in the direction of the changing rooms when he spotted a pair of feet under the tarp. He smiled. He saw Ron come down the valley quite a while ago, but hadn't seen him since, and he seemed pretty upset. There was no mistaking it.
This was his chance. He could change later.
…Meanwhile, Ron was still rubbing his eyes stubbornly. He made up his mind already that he wasn't going to stoop this low...at least, for a second time. Crying would be the last thing he would do.
"Where's Potter and Granger?"
Ron jumped up in shock and turned around to find a dark-haired boy slipping under the tarp, one arm flipping it over backhandedly. What was more, he was wearing the color of green.
"Zabini?"
"Forgot me already?" He gave a sneer, but it didn't have half of the animosity behind Draco's.
"And another thing. You helped me and Draco that one night. I have nothing against you, so let's be on a first-name basis, all right?"
Ron hesitated to answer, and then the memories came back to him. That slow, soft, fatherly voice unbecoming on a seventeen-year-old; that confident personality...
Suddenly another one returned, and he froze up even more. Did he know about…?
"I guess we're both in bad ruts. Draco and I broke up—he didn't tell me until we got back to Hogwarts, of course, but now it's really official," Blaise commented coolly. "Apparently his father was more determined to break us up than I thought."
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
"Course, I'm sure he had another reason."
When he saw Ron raise his eyebrow, he quickly added, "But I'm not here to talk about Draco; that's all behind me. I'd like to talk about you."
…October fourteenth.
The last day of Professor Mills' Pensieve trials.
Coincidental or not, Blaise had planned his scheme out flawlessly. He, Ron, and a girl from Ravenclaw named Lisa Turpin were the last ones scheduled to endure the test. Ron hadn't seen Blaise at any time on the thirteenth, but the conversation they had on the twelfth had been interesting enough for him to mull it over for the extra day. Nothing had been said outright, but Ron had the lurking suspicion that Blaise was looking for a replacement. He had done nothing else except touch his cheek lovingly, but that caressing touch alone had been enough to set off the redhead's imagination.
Now they were here, standing close in Professor Mills' room. The Ravenclaw had been the first to dive inside, and so the two were biding their time. As Ron glanced in the other direction, Blaise stole a glance at his face. He hadn't wanted to say it when they were at the Manor, but—
"You have an interesting face."
Ron turned back to him. "What?"
"You always look like you're confused about something. I take it something's bothering you."
Ron should have felt grateful that he knew what he was going through, but now he was starting to be a little freaked out. Had it been a simple guess or impressive intuition? It was striking himself as a bit odd that he was even talking with a Slytherin, but this one was different somehow.
"Yeah, kind of..."
Nothing more was said. Both attentions were now focused on the obsidian bowl on the desk in front of them as the pearly liquid inside began to morph and change color. All in the next moment two figures leaped out of the Pensieve and landed on the floor as if jumping out of bowls was natural. The girl in the blue and black robes—who had looked uneasy before she dove inside—was now shaking at the knees. Professor Mills gave her a pat on the shoulder, informed her briefly of her alternatives, and sent her on her way with a sympathetic smile. The second the door closed she looked down at Ron.
"Mr. Weasley, you're next, I take it?" she asked amiably. Ron gulped and nodded.
"No worries. We'll be in and out before you know it. Deposit your thought, please."
Ron walked up and peered in, putting his wand to his temple. Blaise looked on as a sliver of light was extracted and dropped into the Pensieve.
"Wonderful, Mr. Weasley. Let's be on our way, shall we?"
They joined hands, and for a moment Ron had the urge to look back behind his shoulder. Blaise smiled in encouragement, which made him feel all the better. He plunged his arm into the bowl, and the two disappeared before the Slytherin's eyes.
…In and out indeed.
As soon as Ron broke through to the other side, he realized that he was going in without any knowledge of what it would be like. He had been too busy fighting Harry and Hermione to ask them or anybody how their test went. He could say the lessons had given him sufficient experience, but that had been easier to handle, and they were using much less scary memories or none at all, just dropping into a white space. And no matter how many times he fell through a Pensieve—even if he did it at the extent Professor Mills did—falling through pitch-black darkness at nearly breakneck speed would always be horrifying to him.
After a couple of minutes their feet hit solid ground, although it was hard to tell where exactly the floor was at first. A while longer, then the darkness transformed into a scene all too familiar.
He landed in exactly the same place Draco did—the Malfoy Manor.
However, it looked nowhere near as derelict as it did in Draco's memory. If at all, the grand foyer was just as inviting as it ever was. The archaic chandelier emitted the dim glow of white, dripping candles. The navy-blue loom of the carpet laid over the stairs looked as comfortable as it felt. It was only yesterday that, whenever Ron was in an inexcusable rush to get across to the other side of the house to answer the Malfoys' needs, he leapt down those stairs in bare feet. This wasn't his home, of course, but in that instant Ron felt the pain of homesickness.
"My worst memory is here?"he asked. "But—"
"You thought this was the place you wanted to come back to the most," Mills finished. "Like I said, your worst fear is just a possibility of what will happen."
The sentence barely escaped her lips when Ron picked up the sound of voices coming through the parlor door. Then it turned to loud screams--his own screams. He turned back to Mills, who raised her eyebrows as if to suggest he should see what it was. Turning back, he took a breath to gather his courage and walked towards the door to open it. There was no need to, actually. As soon as he touched the doorknob he remembered the rule about everything in the Pensieve being more or less a realistic illusion; his hand went right through. After getting over the brief shock, he dropped right through.
And that was when he received the greatest shock of all.
It was a grotesque twist on the dream he had a couple of months before. There they were, he and Lucius, but something was seriously wrong. Instead of enjoying the warmth of the older man's body, Ron was lying alone on the couch, his shirt and skin soaked with red. His eyes were glazed and bloodshot, his mouth partly open and scarcely breathing. Looming over him was Lucius, not with a gaze of affection, but contempt. His hands were sans gloves, covered instead with the redhead's blood.
"I can't decide which is more humorous: you having so much compassion—and so much desperation—that you would fall in lust with a Death Eater, or that you actually went on the Hogwarts Express with such high hopes. Didn't your friends warn you about me? Were they that uncaring about your well-being? You should be pleased they'll be dead soon."
The blond leaned over and proceeded to grab a handful of hair and pull him up to his face. The Ron in the image cried out in pain, only succeeding in broadening Mr. Malfoy's smirk.
"I almost feel regret for this, but this wasn't all on my own accord. All I did was lay the trap. The rest was up to you to decide—and you did so. Poorly."
He dropped the boy back down onto the pillows and adapted a contemplative frown. All through this the Ron on the couch remained nothing more than an unresponsive doll. Whatever had happened before they got here had apparently been traumatic. The other one, the real one, also stood in the corner of the room like a stone statue.
"On the other hand, with disappointments come rewards. I must consider the only reason you even bothered returning was that no one, not even someone you respected and fawned over for years, was willing to quench your sexual desires. It would even be beastly of me to leave your wishes unfulfilled," Lucius said. He stepped closer to the bleeding body and picked him up. The two then floated past the real Ron.
"Let me at least grant you that. It is"—at this he let out a human laugh—"what did I say in the letter? A bad person's greatest joy?"
Lucius opened the door the real Ron couldn't before, and the illusions left. At that moment Professor Mills floated inside.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
"Why should I be?" Ron snapped back. "Why is everyone telling me I shouldn't go back? He isn't like that!"
"First point I'd like to make, Mr. Weasley, is that this is your own subconscious telling you this time, not me. Secondly they have much to fear, even yourself, which is why this manifested as your worst fear in the first place. But yours is a particularly interesting one. All of the other students' fears were nightmares, things probably even a Boggart wouldn't touch. Would you like to know why I thought Potter's, Malfoy's, and yours were the three worst fears of all?"
Ron stayed silent. Somehow he knew she would divulge the answer anyway.
"I said it before. The one aspect of a fear that determines whether it's truly scary is how realistic it is—how so possible it could really happen. Fearing something unlikely is one thing, but to see something that could very well happen to you tomorrow…that is true terror. Why waste your time in nightmares if your life is frightening enough as it is?" Mills explained. "Now do you know how you'll be able to face this fear?"
Ron stayed quiet for a long time, mulling over her words. Finally he gave an answer.
"Um…I don't know what will really happen, so I guess all I have to do is take a chance on Mr. Malfoy and go in December. Whatever happens, happens."
Mills smiled, and the entire image of the parlor collapsed into an almost blinding white light. Before long everything disappeared, including Mills.
"Professor Mills—!"
"Don't worry, Mr. Weasley," her voice called out."If at all I should congratulate you."
"Why?"
"Why do you think?"
It took a little while longer before it dawned on him. Amidst his complaints, his confusion, and, for lack of a better term, his fear, Ron Weasley then became the first student in all of Hogwarts to pass Professor Mills' test.
(End Chap. 32)
Me: As extremely corny as it sounds, will the power of love indeed conquer all, including Hermione's sensibility and Harry's raging paranoia? We'll just have to wait and see, won't we? Happy Belated Valentine's Day, from us here at B&DD to you.