Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter or the poem by Mr. Yeats.
Chapter eight: Wounds
Black was causing a big ruckus and over the next year the fae only peaked her eye open a couple a times. Then with an annoyed huff she would go back to sleep. Honestly, she did not know how human's got along each day when they could not tell when another's blood-lust was for themselves or for another.
She knew for a certainty that he was not after Harry and the red-headed child's rat was not any of her concern. It, itself, was a pathetic creature and no match for her. So she slept, trying to relieve a weariness deep in her core that only real danger could make her ignore.
She awoke with a jolt.
"Holy hell, Harry! Is that a werewolf?!" she yelled, turning towards him. A dog bounded past her and jumped at the transforming man. She looked around, trying to make sense of it all. Snape was unconscious and she took a second to resent him for it. Then the other man was transforming back into a rat.
What is going on? She thought wildly.
Then there was more transforming and yelling and… her shoulders sagged.
The fae walked over to the where the two snarling canines were wrestling each other and slapped the werewolf on the snout. It made an indignant sound and paused in it's fight.
"Go play!" she ordered pointing towards the forest and it bounded off, chased by the black dog. She sighed and squatted on the ground, staring listlessly at it. She was still so tired.
Child, where have you been?
Every muscle in her body tensed as she realized that she was sitting bathed in the pale light of the full moon.
Child…
NO!
The fae jumped up and sprinted for the Forest, where the trees would keep her in shadow. Somewhere in the distance Harry was shouting for the one called Sirius, but it did not matter.
She had to hide.
Hide.
Hide!
Desperate gasps tried to become sobs and the fae tripped. Scrambling in the leaves and brush she crawled into dark refuge under the large root of a tree. In the distance a child called out in fear. It reached her ears at the same volume as the moon's calls for her.
She pressed her hands over her ears as she trembled in the dirt.
Forget me, mother! She pleaded. Forget the daughter you used to have.
She had changed; had become tainted and could not bare her mother seeing her ruined state.
…can you forget your own child? Came the most gentle whisper.
…listen. He needs you.
"…expecto… expecto patronum…"
She forgot herself, crawled out of her hole and ran to the boy who was surrounded by darkness. Skidding to a halt, her head snapped back and forth between the time-displaced Harrys.
The older. Said the moon. The fae wasted no time to reach him as he stepped out to help his younger self.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he yelled and she felt her mother impart a gift to her that she immediately transferred to Harry.
A brilliant, silver animal that shined as brightly as the moon above leapt from his wand. The dazzling stag rushed forward and chased the cloaked forms of despair away. They both stared at the beautiful creature as it turned and stood before Harry.
"Prongs!" he whispered and the fae understood. His father also gave his life that night years ago.
She closed her eyes and lowered her head as the children took Buckbeak and left. She stayed where she was, under the watchful glow of the moon's pale light. She did not crouch anymore; she didn't cower, but stood with back straight and heart resigned.
The moon waited silently until the fae lifted her sad eyes to gaze at her.
"Mother…" she said, voice cracking.
Shh, child, shh. You worry about nothing.
"But- but I'm—" she spread her arms as if to present her entire body as evidence.
Do I not, myself, sleep and live in a black sky? Is not my face one of many scars?
The fae's hands shook as she bit her lips and looked down.
We walk through darkness and pain for the ones we love.
"Mother." She said, all her hope and desire to still be loved in that one word.
Dance for me.
The little faerie's sob came out, half transformed into a laugh and she smiled weakly. With a deep breath she looked up and began to sing with the tune the stars played for her.
"'O shining ones, lightly with song pass,
Ah, leave me, I pray you and beg.'"
She stepped and turned, her limbs remembering their former grace.
"'My mother drew forth from the long grass
A piece of a nightingale's egg,
And cradled me here where are sung,'"
Tears fell from her eyes and glistened in the moonlight. It wasn't the same.
She wasn't the same.
"'Of birds even, longings for aery
Wild wisdoms of spirit and tongue.'"
But that was okay.
A/N: Please review!