Disclaimer: I DO NOT own the Harry Potter Series. That right belongs solely to the amazing J.K. Rowling. I DO, however, own the plot, Oura (not her last name, again the literary goddess J.K. Rowling) and my favorite cat Sterling.
xXx Hello my little Owlettes! I'm sooooo sorry it took so long. As you should know, my old Beta, , didn't reply for a while. Big shout out to her, though, for being an amazing Beta for the first 11 chapters. You all should check out her stories. They are fantastic! On this line I had a thank you for a new Beta that got back to me super quickly, but I sent her these chapters over a month ago, and she still hasn't emailed me back, so I'm going to post this chapter and the next without being Beta-ed. Let me know if you see any spelling or grammar errors! Now, I haven't been getting any more reviews for Chapter 11. Only my best friend reviewed it, and that's 'cause I made her. 3 you Introvertqueen! Remember, the more you review the faster I post the next chapter. Anywho, thats about it... so Enjoy! xXx
Chapter 12
Oura woke in a room that was not her own. Every inch was a perfect white. A white bed with white sheets; a white table; even a white rose in a vase. The purity of the walls and floor were so bright, it hurt her eyes. Even the fireplace was made of a cold, pale stone. The only colour in the room was her, and the red flecks that stained the sheets. She must have coughed up some blood again. When she looked around, she realized that there was one more source of colour. Malfoy was passed out in a soft, white armchair, his hair mussed, as though he had kept running his hand through it. Now that she inspected further, the white table was laden with pale books on illnesses and common cures. She smiled sadly at that. None of those ever helped her, her case was... unique. She sighed and climbed out of bed, streching. Thankfully, she was still dressed. Oura was somewhat relieved. She shook her head and quietly looked around again. In the fireplace, dying embers glowed gently against the hearth. Malfoy must have tried to sweat it out of her. Indeed, when she turned back again to his hump of a form, his shirt stuck to his skin, drenched in perspiration. She walked over to the ivory table and stacked the books neatly in a pile.
I should probably leave a note for him. She thought to herself looking over her shoulder at Malfoy. He'll want an explanation. If only she had some parchment. Coincidentally, she noticed some out of the corner of her eye as soon as she had the thought. She must have missed it before, seeing as it blended into the rest of the room. As she dipped the milky eagle-feather quill into the ink well that had appeared, she wondered why the Room had not personalized it to Malfoy's imagination. Oura had read about the concepts of similar rooms. They were linked to the user's imagination and needs. If she imagined the table underneath her hand like the one she remembered from France... Oura smiled gently as the perfect, round, white table elongated and slowly darkened. Now the table was a cherry-wood counter and her seat became a stool. She hadn't specifically thought of the stool, but when she thought up the memory of the counter, the stool was there as well, just indirectly. Oura would have to discuss this with Hermione. Maybe they could test the bounds of the Room together. She shook her head gently and pulled herself back to the present task at hand. She cast her gaze onto the piece of parchment, that was now adorned with her elegant handwriting.
Questions, come after dinner. Confront me then. I'll wait 'til 10. If you even THINK about telling anyone about this, I will not hesitate to hex you 6 ways to hell and back..
Oura Marvolo
She nodded, it would suffice. Looking down at it, she noted that she would need something to seal it. It came to her as she absently rubbed her dragon ear wrap, deep in thought. Oura tapped it gently with her wand, and it came alive, lighting softly onto her outstretched palm. She placed him on the roll of parchment, and the silver beast curled around in, settling with the appearance of sleep.
Oura got up and stretched again. She was always sore after a night like this. Glancing around the room, she noticed that her reminiscing had changed the room slowly. It now had the appearance of a common room, almost. The fireplace had become adorned with rustic-looking stones with a matching hearth. The mantle was a deep cherry wood and in front of the hearthside, a cherry coffee table was surrounded by soft, deep blue couches with pale green throws and pillows. A similarly coloured scatter rug lay underneath the table and the walls were lined with bookshelves made of dark wood. Behind the chimney, a black wrought iron spiral staircase climbed out of view. Oura noted that so she could check it out once pale bed was now a giant, elegant canopy bedstead with royal blue curtains and comforter with pale green sheets and pillows. Malfoy now sat in a pastel green armchair that matched the curtains of the bed. He looked almost peaceful when he wasn't being a prick to everything in sight. A small smile ghosted her face, before she caught herself.
Oura couldn't just leave him there, so quietly she set to work, pulling back the sheets on the bed, before levitating him gently onto the soft mattress, letting his head fall delicately onto the myriad of pillows. As she released him from the grip of her magic, he shifted, curling up in a ball. Oura started to turn, feeling as though she was invading something private. She went to leave when she heard him begin to mumble. Curiosity got the better of her and she crept closer. His voice became a bit clearer as she inched towards him, but stopped once she heard his words.
"...no... please. Don't, don't hurt them... it was my fault... punish me instead... please.. "
He curled into a tighter ball and sobs began to rack his body. This strong person, who bullied first years and hissed insults to anyone who didn't think like him, was now cowering from simply a dream. Oura's gaze softened knowingly and she quietly padded up to him, laying her wand on his temple, muttering a quick soothing spell, before quickly gathering her things and slipping out of the room, heading back to the Ravenclaw tower, lest she be caught out so early in the morning.
She met no one as she shambled tiredly along and even got a few minutes of peaceful sleep, before a third year girl knocked on her door, asking if she wanted to walk down to breakfast. Oura groaned, yet got up following the only other Ravenclaw that was staying for the holidays. It was going to be a long rest of the year.