DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.
"Been to visit Hermione again?"
"Yeah," Draco answered to the newly-appeared Trayton, offhandedly. The ghost wasn't even making him jump anymore, even when he popped out of nowhere. "What's it to you?"
"I was merely asking, Draco, no need to snap," Trayton admonished as he drifted alongside his descendant.
"It's been an annoying night," Draco said in way of an apology.
"Oh? How so?"
"There may as well be a lock on that necklace of hers, surrounded by a castle, a moat and eight fire breathing dragons, each one deadlier than the last," Draco hissed, frustration welling again.
Trayton was silent for a moment, before frowning.
"What?" he asked, completely lost.
"That stupid necklace isn't coming off her neck!" Draco elaborated through gritted teeth. "What did she do, weld the chain together?"
"The necklace is stuck?" Trayton asked sharply, coming to an immediate halt.
Draco, surprised, stopped as well. The ghost had a look on his face that was a mixture of terror and fury. It was nothing like Draco had ever seen, or expected, on his ancestor's face.
"Is that bad?" he asked uncertainly.
"Something must be done." Trayton's look darkened and he continued to glide down the corridor at such speed that Draco couldn't have kept up if he had wanted to.
"It's alright, be cryptic, I'm sure nothing bad will come of it!" he called sarcastically after the ghost. "What am I supposed to do now?"
He sulked for a moment before realizing that no one was around to view it. Scowling, he pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning against and stalked down the corridor. It had just gone dinnertime so there were students milling around the corridors. One of these groups included Pansy, who immediately demanded he join in their conversation. With nothing better to do, Draco nodded, only to realize he had no idea what they were talking about. This should prove an interesting test of his bluffing skills.
The moment Hermione fell asleep, Zella was waiting for her in her dreams.
Welcome, Hermione, came a soft voice.
In the same corridor where they always started off, Hermione jumped and looked wildly around. But only Zella stood in front of her, smiling.
"Can you…talk?" Hermione asked her with a confused frown.
Of course a person couldn't talk if their tongue had been cut out, but the voice had been so clear…
Zella's smile became sad for a moment and she shook her head, her blonde hair swaying slightly as she did.
This is my only method of communication now, came Zella's voice again. I had to wait until our connection was strong enough, but now that it is we can finally talk. Zella laughed at herself. Well, I can think at you and you can talk back.
"So you're psychic?" Hermione guessed, still unsure.
Here, yes, Zella thought with a nod. Like I said, the connection we share has grown and your mind is open to my thoughts.
"Is my mind open to you as well then?" Hermione asked, quickly on guard. It wasn't that she didn't trust Zella. For an odd reason, she did. It was just her thoughts were private and, upon occasion, embarrassing.
Zella laughed again, a light and warming sound that seemed affected by her missing tongue only a tad.
No, don't worry, she assured. Although I briefly remember what goes through a teenage girl's mind, so I wouldn't judge.
Oh, I think you would, Hermione thought to herself worriedly. I've been thinking about people I shouldn't be way too often now…
Zella took a few steps forward, drifting over her own body as if it were nothing to her. She held out her transparent hand to Hermione.
I would like to show you something, she thought. Nothing too exciting, I suppose, but…I would like to show you what my life was like.
Hermione hesitated, although she couldn't deny that her interest had been caught. A chance to explore anyone's past was an exciting opportunity but to see how one of her ancestors had lived? It wasn't something that she wanted pass over. Besides, she could always wake herself up if things got dangerous.
"Okay," she said with a nod as she held out her hand to touch Zella's.
To her surprise, Zella's hand felt like flesh as it grasped Hermione's. Hermione closed her eyes tightly, expecting to be whizzed away but instead she just stood there feeling foolish.
Sorry, no flying today, Zella thought with a giggle.
"I didn't think we were going to fly," Hermione muttered self-consciously, before thinking how nice it was to hear Zella laugh. In an odd way, she thought of her ancestor as a friend.
Okay, Zella thought with a sly nod, letting go of Hermione's hand gently. I did that to show you our bond. The stronger it gets, the stronger I become in your mind, do you understand? You can hear my thoughts and I'm corporeal. It's actually really impressive.
And scary, Hermione silently added, but instead said out loud, "So then, because our bond is powerful, I can see your memories?"
Exactly, Zella thought with a smile.
She began to walk down the corridor and as she did, it transformed all around her. Light shone in through the windows and the paintings around them came to life. As Zella's body dissipated, students materialized out of thin air and chattered merrily as they strode past Hermione and Zella, utterly oblivious.
They can't see us, Zella thought and Hermione heard her easily above all the noise. They don't exist, not really. This is only a memory.
She stopped walking and turned back to Hermione with a smile on her face.
I've not done this before but please don't be scared, there may be a moment of darkness as I reach for the memory but I will be here, she assured.
Sure enough, Zella closed her eyes and, as though Hermione had closed her own eyes, darkness swallowed the corridor. She didn't move as fear rose up inside of her.
It's alright, I'm here, Zella thought soothingly.
Still, panic and confusion reigned for a few seconds until, blissfully, cracks of light began to appear, as though the sun was struggling to shine through a broken window. As soon as it had appeared, it vanished to be replaced with the darkness of night time.
This is one of my favourite memories, Zella thought sadly as their surroundings became clearer. You'll see why as time goes on.
Hermione blinked once, twice, a third time. She and Zella were stood in the beautiful grounds of Hogwarts, although something was different. Time obviously had an effect and Hermione noted with interest trees that were smaller than she was used to. But there was something else. Everything seemed…faded, somehow.
My memories fade over time, Zella thought in way of apology, as if reading Hermione's mind. But I've remembered the important parts. Look, there I am with Fin.
She pointed to two figures strolling casually, apparently deep in conversation. Hermione stepped closer as Zella and her friend stopped and sat down in the long grass.
"Who's Fin?" she asked Zella, slowly walking closer to the pair.
He was my best friend, Zella thought with a sad smile. At closer inspection, Hermione found that tears were welling in Zella's eyes. His full name was Finian, but he hated being called that. So, of course, it was the only thing the Slytherins would address him by. She laughed and, as she did, a tear slipped down her cheek. It was considered very inappropriate back then that a girl and a boy would be friends. I don't know why. Then again, it wasn't the most tolerant of times, as we would soon find out.
"My best friends are boys and some people still find it weird," Hermione sighed. "As if I can't just enjoy their company. I have to be in love with one of them." She sighed. "But I ignore the whispers and they go away for the most part."
I wish it had been like that with me, Zella sighed.
She was silent for a long time, watching herself and her friend chat away, unaware of the dangers that they would soon face.
And here's the important part, Zella smiled. Listen.
There was a distant splash from the lake and the Zella sitting beside Fin looked up sharply and clutched her friend's arm. Hermione noted that Fin didn't seem to mind much.
"Did you hear that?" Zella asked frantically, scanning the area with her sapphire eyes. She really was quite beautiful.
"No," Fin assured her, patting her arm. "You're just on edge because we're not supposed to be out here."
Zella's fist dug into the ground around her as she tensed.
"Fin, I swear that there is something out here," she murmured.
"Probably just an animal." There was another, louder splash. "That went for a swim." Boys whooped faintly. "And turned into humans." Fin paused. "Yeah, you're right, there's someone out here."
Zella drew in closer to Fin, who awkwardly rested his chin on the top of her head, clearly misinterpreting her gesture.
"I think you should go and see who it is," Zella suggested, moving her head from under Fin's.
"Why?"
"Because you're a big, strong man?"
"Flattery will get you nowhere."
"Alright, it's because I'm scared. Will offering my undying love get me anywhere?"
"Yes."
Zella laughed her light laugh, oblivious that Fin wanted nothing more than what she was offering. But before Fin could stand, the figures of five young men slowly came towards them.
"Bit late for a walk, isn't it?" one of them said.
"We could say the same to you," Zella retorted, no coward despite her earlier words. Fin swiftly stood up after her.
"Maybe, but we're not out for a walk."
Hermione, guided by her curiosity to the side of Fin and Zella, gasped as the boys came closer. Her gasp quickly turned into a shocked giggle as she realized that the group were wearing nothing but cloth towels around their waists.
"Oh my," Zella murmured as she too registered this. She turned her face away slightly but continued to talk in a scathing tone. "You are aware that you've misplaced your clothes, aren't you?"
The group laughed, but not in a way that suggested that they found Zella's comment amusing.
"Not all our clothes," one of the group pointed out, managing to swagger although he took only one step forward. "Although that could be arranged."
The boys around him jeered and threw Zella suggestive glances.
"Leave her alone," Fin said in a voice that was scaring no one.
Still, give him his credit, he stepped in front of Zella protectively, not even backing down when the boy who had spoken before took another, much larger, step forward and squared up to him.
"What's up, Finian? We moving in on your territory?"
"No, but-"
"Well then I don't see the problem if she's free game."
"I'm not anyone's game!" Zella called indignantly from behind Fin.
There was a splash and then another, smaller, group of boys with the same attire appeared next to their friends.
"What's going on?" one asked amiably. Hermione recognized him from the painting she had seen: Trayton Malfoy.
Trayton scanned the area in front of him and his eyes immediately softened as they locked on Zella. Similarly, Zella's glare subsided as her eyes met his.
We'd seen each other before of course, having been in the same classes for six years, Zella's ghost told Hermione, her eyes not leaving the scene that was unfolding before them. There had always been a connection between us that I can't explain. But we'd never spoken before and it would be another year before we became Head Girl and Head Boy together.
"Nothing much," one of the other boys informed him casually. "Simon might be on the right track to something though."
The other boys laughed and jeered again, all except for Trayton who rolled his discreetly at Zella, who smiled in response.
"We've got better things to do than harass Gryffindors," Trayton pointed out, adopting a new, cold tone of voice in front of his friends. "Let's go find someone worthwhile to hassle."
The others shrugged and nodded their consent. As they turned away, Trayton shot Zella an apologetic look and she responded with a nod, silently assuring him that it was alright. They shared a long look until Fin, oblivious, began to mouth off about how much he hated Slytherins.
"So you and Trayton were intense from day one?" Hermione murmured, watching Trayton's retreating figure and noticing the occasional glances he threw behind at Zella.
Yes, Zella's ghost thought as the memory around them faded to be replaced with darkness. It's something I just can't explain, but I always knew that we were supposed to be together.
"Star-crossed lovers?" Hermione suggested, ignoring the panic that welled again at the darkness.
Yes, although that didn't end well for Romeo and Juliet, did it? Maybe it's a pattern, some sort of curse. Be called 'star-crossed lovers' and die soon after.
"There goes the nickname I have for my friends then," Hermione joked, her breath catching. It was the only sound in the abyss.
The next memory occurs a little while on, the next year in fact. It was required of the Head Girl and Head Boy to patrol the corridors sometimes at night, Zella explained. Of course, that was wonderful as it meant I got to know Trayton better. It wasn't long before we fell in love.
The next place Hermione recognized was the corridor that they had started the evening in although, of course, there was no body on the floor.
"You read Muggle books?" came Zella's voice, drifting down the corridor.
"They're not as pathetic as everyone thinks," Trayton answered, amusement in his deep voice. "In fact, some of them are rather interesting."
"But…there's no magic in them," Zella said, confused. "How can they be interesting?"
Trayton and Zella rounded a corner and into view, their footsteps identical and walking a little slower and closer together than someone usually would. On closer inspection, their fingers were intertwined.
"There's more of a focus on emotions," Trayton told her. "And some Muggles aren't as idiotic as we'd first assume. Some have a frightening perception of humanity and what goes on in our minds."
"Name one," Zella challenged, smiling her bright smile. "Just so I know you aren't making this up to try and impress me."
"I have to try?" Trayton asked in mock-horror. Zella swatted him lightly on his arm and he laughed. "Okay, okay. Let's see…Edgar Allan Poe. His tales are dark but intriguing…much better than a generic love story where everything works itself out in the end."
"I like those stories," Zella said quietly.
"Some of them are alright," Trayton amended quickly. "Although it was frowned upon enough reading any type of Muggle books back home…I didn't want to enrage my father any more by reading novels meant for women."
They reached the end of the corridor and turned off it. Hermione swiftly chased after them to hear the rest of the conversation.
"Well I can't read anything else for fear that I might 'get ideas' which would be unacceptable," Zella scoffed. "But perhaps I could read some of Mr. Poe's work sometime?"
"No," was Trayton's short answer.
"Why?" Zella demanded. "Afraid I might get ideas?"
Trayton chuckled. "Unless you have a spare dungeon and a large pendulum on hand, then no, I'm not afraid that you'll get ideas."
"Then why don't you want me reading?" Zella pouted prettily.
"I have nothing against you reading," Trayton told her. "I just don't want you upset by horror stories. Perhaps something by Ms. Austen would be more suitable."
"I don't even know who that is," Zella sighed.
"Then next Christmas I shall get you Pride and Prejudice," Trayton promised, squeezing her hand gently.
"Sounds more like something the rest of the school should read," Zella said and instantly the mood changed.
"They'll accept us eventually," Trayton said with such conviction that it was like he was trying to convince himself rather than Zella.
"No. They won't."
"Why not?"
"Because we're in rivalling houses, for a start," Zella began.
The exasperation in her voice told Hermione that this conversation had been had many times before.
"So were Romeo and Juliet," Trayton said, once again referencing literature that Zella didn't know.
"Did they have a happy ending?" Zella asked.
Trayton bit his lip.
"Yes."
The only lie he ever told me, Zella's ghost thought, laughing quietly. I read the play shortly before I died.
"And so will we," Trayton continued, stopping and facing Zella. He lifted his hand and caressed the side of her face lightly, his eyes never leaving hers. "I love you."
"I love you too," Zella answered, her eyes lighting up.
As she and Trayton kissed, Hermione turned to Zella's ghost.
The first time we said it to each other, she thought without needing prompting. I'll remember that night forever.
The scene faded to black again and Zella turned to Hermione.
You should wake up now, she thought with her beautiful smile. Don't want you sleeping your life away, do we?
Hermione nodded. "Thank you…for showing me this," she said after a moment of hesitation. "I feel like I know you better now."
"I can show you more if you wish," Zella offered. "But not now. Now you should wake up. Return to the land of the living. Goodbye."
Hermione blinked once and when she opened her eyes, she was back in the hospital wing. Managing to feel groggy and wide-awake at the same time, she sat up with a quiet groan. It was daytime, judging by the sun streaming in through the windows.
After being informed by Madam Pomfrey that this was her last day in the hospital wing and being given lunch, Hermione rested her back against the pillows, unsure of what to do now.
Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how you looked at it, Malfoy entered the room at that moment, flowers clutched in his palm. Hermione stared at him questioningly as he walked up to her bed and threw the flowers into her lap.
"Don't get too excited," he told her in his drawling voice. "I'm only keeping up the pretence that you and I are going out."
Hermione scowled. "And who came up with that ridiculous notion?"
"That would be Madam Pomfrey," Malfoy replied scathingly. "Apparently she's been sampling a little too many hallucinatory potions as of late."
"Watch my fragile state of mind, you might hurt my feelings," Hermione complained mildly, glaring at him.
"I'm only in here to talk to you about your necklace," Malfoy said, shrugging off her comment. "It's a perfectly fresh day outside and I could be there instead of in here with all the sick people but no."
"What about the necklace?" Hermione asked, intrigued and completely ignoring the last part of Malfoy's rant.
"It doesn't come off."
"What do you mean it doesn't come off?"
"I mean that it doesn't come off," Malfoy told her, disdain colouring his face. "What else could I possibly mean?"
Hermione wriggled herself a little further upright (hastily pulling her blankets up so that they covered as much of her as possible) and scrabbled at the clasp of the necklace. Sure enough, it stuck fast. Her frown deepening, she scratched at it but to no avail.
"How do you know this anyway?" she demanded to Malfoy after giving up with the necklace.
Malfoy immediately looked sheepish.
"I thought that by removing the necklace your nightmares would go away so I did the kind thing and-"
"Just stop right there," Hermione interrupted with a scowl.
"Not convincing you, hm?" Malfoy sighed and shrugged nonchalantly. "Alright, I was tired of fooling around and wanted to deliver the necklace to Trayton. Who, by the way, is definitely not happy that the necklace is stuck on you."
"That makes two of us, no way will it go with all of my outfits," Hermione answered. At Malfoy's appalled look, she rolled her eyes. "I was joking." Before Malfoy could make a smart retort, she began to speak again. "I think it's time I met Trayton."
"I don't," Malfoy told her.
"It's important," Hermione protested.
"I don't know if I can trust him," Malfoy said with a shake of his head. "So I'm not about to let him around you."
Hermione was silent for a moment.
"Trying to protect me?" she asked, only half-mockingly.
"Maybe I am," Malfoy answered, to each of their surprise. "So for once, do what you're told."
"Let me put it this way…" Hermione mused. "I'm going to talk to Trayton whether you're there or not. It can't be that hard to track him down, especially if I have something that he wants."
Malfoy glared at her in frustration before throwing up his hands.
"Fine!" he glowered. "Fine, I'll take you to see him tonight. You'll be done lazing around by then, I take it?"
"Yes," Hermione replied happily, too content with her victory to answer Malfoy's sly remark. "Meet me in the Great Hall after dinner?"
"Meet me in the library at seven," Malfoy corrected, determined to keep whatever control he had left. "Don't be late."
He turned to leave, not taking the flowers with him as Hermione thought he would. As he left, she arranged them on the table next to her. They brightened up the room…or at least, that was her excuse for keeping them there.
A/N:
Hello and Happy New Year! Yay, 2009!
Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. I've been reading Edgar Allan Poe recently and his was the first name that sprung to mind when I was writing. The 'spare dungeon and large pendulum' that Trayton mentioned referred to my favourite Poe tale, "The Pit and the Pendulum". I'm also listening to "The Poet and the Pendulum" by Nightwish right now, so it seemed a logical choice (:
Thanks so much for your reviews, they really made my Christmas.
Feel free to share your New Year's Resolutions. Mine is to drink less coffee because I drink an alarming amount while I'm writing…which is pretty much all the time.
Have a wonderful year everyone!
- Momo