DISCLAIMER:::THIS ALL IS WRITTEN FOR YOU LOVELY READERS! NO ONE IS PROFITING! NO HARM INTENDED! Rated MATURE! For Reasons! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! ENJOY!
XXXX
I was dreaming.
I had to be. There was only one other plausible explanation: I was dead.
Given the equal probability of either, I clung to the hope of the first. If the latter was true, I was in some twisted version of Hell. Even I could not have imagined Heaven being so painful. If I wasn't dead, I was positive the potion was successful. Even my imagination was not distorted enough to provide such horrific scenarios as the one I found myself faced with.
Dream or not, potion or not, true or not, present or not, the sensation was real. The surge of emotion, of knowledge, of clarity in confusion was worse than expected. Even with all of Snape's warnings and coaching I found myself overwhelmed. Without them, I think I would have closed my eyes, crippled with fear, hoping to wait out the torture.
It would have been a shameful waste.
If nothing else, for the sake of knowledge alone, I could not ignore the gift I was given. It was a blessing to be one of the few chosen for the potion's results which were rumored to be as elusive as they were insightful. As an aspiring Potions Master I could not squander the opportunity to learn it's selective content. I convinced myself the regret of keeping my eyes shut would outweigh the regret of opening them.
In hindsight, I'm still questioning the decision. In the moment, I accepted the visions granted by the potion in the name of prophecy-whether it proved to be fantasy or nightmare. What I saw however, was not something I could accept as fate.
The sensation was not unlike when I entered Snape's memories but not the same either. There was a hazy quality to the air, as if all the possibilities of what could-have-been condensed into a smog that hung heavy in the room. I could feel the weight of it pressing in, yet it was difficult to imagine a possibility darker than the reality I was shown.
Just like when I entered Snape's mind through force, I took on the perspective of the individual-this time identity unknown. But unlike before, I did not have control. Unlike before, I was looking down the otherside of the wand.
When I opened my borrowed eyes it took a moment to register the scene in front of me, but that was the first threat my eyes landed on. There was a sickly looking being standing in front of me. Its skin as white as the bones I could see poking through its paper skin that stretched over the knuckles curled around the wand digging into the bridge of my nose. Its features were distorted, serpentine, and barely recognizable as a man.
Voldemort.
I registered malicious cackling somewhere not far behind him. The source was a whirl of unkempt black curls, yellowed teeth, and paramount levels of insanity rivaling only her cruelty-Bellatrix LeStrange. Bellatrix clung to the coattails of her master, her husband Rudolpohous-forsaken-looking on from his position further Malfoy stood to the left of her sister with her husband standing behind. Lucious looked over his wife's shoulder in pure delight. Narcissa was the only member of her family who did not seem pleased by the scene of horrific torture unfolding in front of her. In fact, She looked like she would rather be anywhere else in the world. But her hesitation went unnoticed amongst the sea of excited onlookers. Everyone loved getting to see the level of work known of their Dark Lord, especially when not directed inward.
As I first looked at the unfamiliar faces, I could not identify them. As I continued to scrutinize their faces, my mind supplied names- Crabbe, Goyle, Flint, Knott, Montague, Pucey.
Death Eaters.
The realization of imminent danger made my sore limbs aware of their chafing restraints. More than that, I felt how the cursed metal blocked access to the power boiling just beneath my skin. I felt my eyes narrow as Voldemort's venomous grin twisted upward to mimic the flick of his wrist. I barely had a moment to prepare myself for the expected Cruciatus Curse before every inch of my body was pierced with flaming knives, axes, ice picks. The pain was too intense for coherent thought as I screamed.
"Why are you still fighting when you have already lost?" Voldemort taunted, words cutting sharp as his curse.
"Because I know what you cannot accept." I said through gritted teeth. The confidence as well as the voice itself was distinctly not my own, but familiar all the same.
"LIES!" The serpent hissed, eyes narrowing on its prey.
Through the pain of the curse, I smiled, aware it looked more like a grimace but the act of defiance was enough to make the effort worth it. If the man before me still had eyebrows, I wonder if they'd be twitching in annoyance. I decided to bait the snake further, saying out loud, "I can prove that I'm not."
"You lie!" The Dark Lord bellowed, increasing the intensity of his curse. Shackled to the chair, my body rattled the chains with my convulsions. Still defiant, even when my mouth fell open it was to fill the silence with laughter.
"You know better than anyone that the truth cuts deeper than any lie. So, why would I spare you any pain, Riddle?"
"Spare me?" He hissed again, temper twitching in its hand, ready to cast its favorite spell.
"How dare you speak to the Dark Lord like that, yet alone address him at all! You are nothing but a filthy, treacherous scrubber!" The Dark Lord's most devoted servant shrieked, her silver eyes widening in indignation.
I paid Bellatrix no mind. I did not break the staredown between me and Voldemort's unnatural gaze. I did not look at Narcissa and I did not understand why that was important. But I felt it. I spoke to her husband instead.
"I have no reason to lie. I was successful in my task while your pet... was not. I will gladly die so she can live and I already have." I replied, calm as ever now the reminder of why the pain would not overcome me renewed my resolve.
"You are correct in part-you will die tonight." Voldemort agreed, quieting protest on his behalf with a wave of his unoccupied hand.
"Unlike you claim, I do not fear Death. Unlike you, I have no reason to fear. I know what awaits me and what will await all that prevent Albion's peaceful return. I do not blame you-Tom, Lucius, Narcissa, any of you. You shouldbe afraid." I said with a solemn nod, delighted to hold the room's attention.
"Knowing what punishment awaits your souls is why I am not affected by your curses. It is why I smile. Lucius failed in his task to eradicate the birthline-doing so will lead to all your deaths and Merlin help you all when you meet your fate." I finished with a cackle. My eyes wild as the light of a dozen spells fired simultaneously painted my eyes a vibrate green. My eyes found comfort in silver eyes belonging to the only person who did not raise her wand against me.
The ghost of my last laugh etched on my face, I felt bodily pulled away from the vision. And I finally saw the face of the body I had been occupying. Emalena, my mother.
But I didn't have time to dwell on the horror of witnessing my mother's violent end as I was hurtled into the next horror awaiting me in the last vision.
Only it didn't seem like a horror at first. It felt more like deja vu. I was back in the Gryffindor locker room like I was only a few hours before. But the steam in the air smelt like rotten apples and the hands ghosting over my body felt all wrong. The fingers were too short, too smooth.
"I still can't believe this is actually happening." a dazed voice sounded in my ear, so close, I could feel the heat of his breath on my neck. It was familiar in all the wrong ways.
My eyes snapped opened, glaring at the person whose hands dripped down my body like the water running from the far off tap. His hazel eyes were locked on mine, their expression was incredulous with hints of tender emotion peeking through. Instead of protesting as my suspicions were confirmed, this version of me spoke in a sultry tone while delivering threats.
"You better start making good on your promises to me or I'll be forced to think they were empty words used to get me naked." As I teased him with my words, I teased him with my lips, nipping along his jawline. Instead of kissing him, I pulled back so I was staring him dead in the eyes and asked, "Well, you've got me naked. Now what are you going to do with me, Elliott Napier?"
Hearing his name was the push he needed to incite him to speak-even if it was just a throaty chuckle before his mouth sought to claim mine. There was nothing sweet about the way his tongue pushed past my lips to dominate mine. There was nothing gentle about the way his knee forced my thighs apart. There was nothing caring about the way he gripped a fistful of my hair and used it to direct me where he wanted. There was nothing but the desire to claim as the
fingers on his other hand dipped between by parted thighs to spread my second set of lips.
It was all so wrong.
My body bucked into his palm, encouraging more as my own hand tangled into dirty blonde curls. My actions were not my own as my body bent to his will. The lack of control felt just as consuming as it did being inside of my mother's or Snape's mind. Only this was so much worse because the body betraying me was well and truly my own.
I couldn't stop my hands from trailing down his arms, his chest, his stomach. I couldn't stop it dipping lower, fingers stretching out to grip the evidence of his next statement. He broke the kiss with a gasp for air but increased the speed he slid his fingers in and out of me as he spoke.
"I've wanted this for so long, Andrella. Wanted you."
"Well, now you have me, so I repeat…" I began, grinding my pelvis bone into his palm as my tongue lashed, "You better start doing all the things you said you'd do to me 'if I only let you get your hands on me' before I take it into my own hands and do your job for you."
The harshness of word choice and tone of delivery was alien to me, the satisfaction of getting what I demanded was not. I cursed my treacherous body for the moan of approval as Elliott added a third finger. His voice turned darker than I ever heard it and the ferocity of his words spoken into skin was something my treacherous body took to with enthusiasm. "Do you remember what you're asking for, Andrella?"
I whined my response, trying to gain more friction. My conscious mind's stomach lurched as I urged him on.
"No? Let me think back to what you wrote in your letters…" Elliott teased with his fingers as much as he did with his words, spreading, pressing, curling inside me. His teeth biting into my shoulder as hard as his following words, "As if I would ever forget you asking me to fuck you so completely your vocabulary only consists of four words. What where they again?"
A strangled sob was all the response I could form. It was all the encouragement Elliott needed before he removed his hand from between my legs. He wrapped it around his own pulsing sex, aligning it with my own.
Smirking down at me from his new position he continued to taunt me, letting just to tip press inside. "I believe those words were 'please', 'fuck', 'me', 'Elliott'. Say them now."
This wanton, shameless version of me looked into his eyes without hesitation. There was a challenge posed in the smile I returned to him. "Them now."
"Naughty girl." Elliott cackled then, without patience for further preparation, he was pushing his hips forward, driving himself inside without care for my comfort. In fact, going by the sinfully blissed out look on his face when I shrieked at the stretch to accommodate him, my pain only seemed to give momentum to his swing. "Say the right words now, Andrella, or I swear you'll regret it." Elliott demanded, pulling my face to his so I had no choice but to meet his gaze.
There was a moment of silence. A battle of wills waged through eye contact.
The words left my lips as a scream once Elliott increased his pace to truly punishing, my head smacking against the wall with every thrust. "Please fuck me, Elliott! Please!"
Somewhere in my peripheral I could have sworn I saw a flash of fire, but my eyes slammed shut before I could inspect the source of the flame-the sensation of Elliott forcing his way inside me was too much for my conscious mind to handle. The sound of my own voice screaming Elliott's name rang in my ears.
As my eyes slid shut, I felt the atmosphere shift again. I knew better than to be thankful before opening my eyes to see what nightmare awaited me. The air still smelled of apples but fresher than I've ever smelt this time, sweet and so overwhelming I was tempted to open my eyes.
When I gave into curiosity, I saw the sky directly above. It was unnaturally blue for how many clouds swirled around the spotlight I seemed to be under. I could make out the shape of leaves, then squinting, the shape of apples, only they must not have all been. Amongst the reds, yellows, and greens, were blues and purples, pinks, golds, silvers, and every other impossible shades of fruit all growing from the same tree.
I felt the tickle of grass on the back of my thighs, as I felt the tickle of fingers ghosting over their tops. A moment of panic seized my heart before a voice had me whipping my head to find the source. Familiar, in all the right ways.
"George." I breath his name, relief washing over me in waves as my eyes snapped open.
"Expecting someone else, love?" He teased, the warmth of his laughter spreading down the length of my neck. It seeped straight through my skin to my heart, speeding it up with a feeling far removed from fear.
"Never." I answered, knowing he'd understand the depth of my response.
"I know." He sighed, resigned blue eyes meeting mine. The sincerity, the sureness was enough to capture me completely, just waiting for him to speak again. "I know that now. I am so sorry for doubting you, Andrella. Do you think you can forgive me?"
I ignored his question, asking instead, "I take it you found my letter, then?" I smiled at him, hands folding over my stomach in a subconscious tell of insecurity.
"It was exactly where you said it would be." George said in a way that betrayed he was still shocked by the fact. Clearing his throat, he added, "And I must say I was a bit… surprised at how you chose to redecorate."
"What can I say? You know I can be a bit dramatic when I'm angry, a trait we seem to share." I mused with a newfound perspective that allowed me to embrace my flaws.
"I'm afraid mine also left me blind." George admitted with a sheepish grin.
"Did my letter help you see?" I asked, satisfied by the solem shake of his head, his hair falling to tickle my nose. "Good, then I think it's time you got a haircut. You know I like it long but this is getting a bit ridiculous!"
"It's not that bad!" George defended himself with an indignant snort.
"But it sends the message that you're still in mourning. If you believe what I explained in my letter, you know there's no need to mourn. I'm going to be okay, George, and so are you." I assured him, hand snaking underneath his shirt to lay palm flat over his heart.
"How can you know that?" George said, barely audible in his hesitation.
"I don't know how I know anything anymore. The more people try to explain it, the less it all makes sense if I'm being perfectly honest." I let out an annoyed huff. Then, looking up at George with an unshakeable smile,"But if the past three months have taught me anything, It's that I can trust that it is all happening for a reason. All we can hope is that Destiny has lead us to a kind fate. And who knows, the way they talk around here, there's a lot of faith in our ability to design our own Destiny."
"Do you share their faith?" George asked suddenly, then blushing, stuttering, "in our, uh, 'ability' to, you know, make it through?"
"Make it through, what? The trials?"
"Good of a starter as any, although you have at least a dozen obstacles to choose at your preference." George laughed, a laundry list of doubts scrolling across his eyes in a flash.
"To be honest, I was starting to get worried, but I hoped. I don't think anything could have stopped me from hoping you'd find me." I promised. "Now that you have, my faith is stronger than ever. I think we're well on our way to proving ourselves in the second trial."
"I still can't believe this is real." George laughed again, shaking his hair into my eyes playfully.
"It is real, George. You know that, don't you?"
"I know it is. I don't understand how, but I know this isn't just a dream. I know it's really you." George vowed, then gaining back his lighthearted grin, "Want to know how I know?"
"How George?" I asked, happy to play along.
"Every night for the past 97 days, I have dreamt of your face and every morning I wake up to a damp pillow. But last night, when you came to me… I could feel it was different and I woke up hopeful. Does that make sense?" George asked, shy in a way I've never seen him.
"It makes perfect sense." I reassured.
"Andrella?"
"Yes, George?"
"I want to discuss your letter. I want to go through it line by line… but for right now, can I just hold you? I missed you so much." The vulnerability that shined through his eyes made me lose my ability to speak. Instead of trying to find sufficient enough words, I threw my arms around him for the first time in months inhaling the true scent of Home.
Suddenly, I understood what my mother tried to tell me the first time I was here-True love with the power to change the world for the better would never be easy, but the essence of the struggle is what makes it great.
Before the scene faded away, I heard that cruel, high-pitched cackling from the first vision. Voldemort. Then the first beginning of the first vision to plague my dreams-a vibrant flash of green.
XXX XXX XXX
I woke up screaming, body doused in sweat.
My skin still tingling from the too real sensation of George's hands on my thighs, still crawling from the phantom feeling of Elliott's curling deep inside me, still burning as invisible knives slashed me apart.
I screamed again and then jolted from the pain into a fighting stance, ready to battle this unseen enemy. My eyes scanned the room for danger and with every empty corner, every deep breath, I began to regain control.
The sixth year Gryffindor Girls dorm was empty. Based on the telltale signs the house elves had already been in to tidy up, it had been that way for quite some time. I looked up to the clock, cursing to the empty room, "Bollocks! A quarter past nine? Why didn't those tossers wake me up! Bleeding fucking Hell!"
The second expletive served as a call to action, body working on autopilot to get dressed into uniform. Thankfully, I still had a least one full set left in my trunk, albeit there was a reason they survived the move to the boys dorm. The blouse clung to my body in a way that the buttons wouldn't lie flat and the skirt was riding too high on my thighs due to how high on my waist I had to put it jst to get the zipper to fit over my arse. But none of that mattered.
I was late.
So very, very late.
Whatever newfound commanrodary Snape and I had going, I knew Its pull would not be strong enough to spare me his wrath. It didn't how found he was of me now-not even his Slytherins were exempt. If there was one thing Snape could not stand-out of admittedly, a rather long list of behaviors-it was tardiness.
I was beyond the point of tardiness-beyond the point of fashionable-I was just plain late. Every second that ticked by would only make my punishment worse. It was this line of thought that had me turn myself invisible before materializing in front of the classroom, not able to spare a second more.
I heard voices shrill and too high-pitched to tolerate without caffeine, approaching too quickly for comfort. Instinctively, I tucked into the wall, hiding in the shadows despite my invisibility. That wouldn't help matters much if people made body contact. Once I was safely out of their path, I registered the fact that the voice was as not only shrill, but in a musical sense. She was singing.
Looks like I get to see the fruit of my labor, afterall. Suddenly far more interested in their conversation, I beamed as I listened to the irate Slytherin conversing with her equally spiteful housemate. They were too far away to make out more than the green of their robes and the red of their cheeks.
You are dreadfully late, 's barely half an hour left of lessons! Romona reminded.
You're absolutely right. I thought back smug with the opportunity her comment provided. So what difference does it make?
You really should go inside. As soon as possible. Neviah advised.
But it didn't matter. One line belted in an off-key falsetto, and I knew their conversation was not something I would be missing. Detentions be damned.
As they drew closer, I recognized the one currently speaking-sorry singing- as Millicent Bullstrode.
"I swear once I get my hands on her/
you'll have to call me Milly the Murderer./
Bopper! Andrella's hands are stained red/
if not hers, then blasted George and Fred's."
Grace Campbell-a nasty, cruel-minded seventh-year-placed a comforting hand on the shoulder of her seething friend. When she opened her mouth the ear-splitting shrillness returned.
"Don't worry, Milly/
and don't be silly./
You mustn't touch her skin/
least the filth sink in./
Besides why waste the time or effort/
on a mudblood leper?"
They were singing off-tune, but it seemed that my potion was effective at keeping them on beat. There was no music playing but their words had a rhythm to how they flowed out of their mouths. Again, I was robbed of the pleasure of admiring my own impromptu spellwork-now too busy trying to figure out how they knew it was mine.
Millicent smiled at that.
"You're right, Grace./
and did you see the Weasel's face/
when Flint put him in his place?"
Then, exclaiming as if she just remembered:
"And sweet Salazar!/
Five Blokes! At once! Five blokes?"
Grace nodded.
"But don't be surprised,/
The truth cannot be disguised./
It's the vernacular /
of slags and slappers/
to expose their own lies,/
by exposing the inside/
of their thighs./
" Honestly, what a disgrace!/
Blemish of the Wizarding race/
Perfect example why her kind/
Need to be fast-tracked, mainlined/
off to a "better place/"
out of our space, erased."
Millicent cackled her amusement, turning to her friend with a predatory gleam in her normally dull eyes.
"But my, my, what a fall./
From Golden Girl of Gryffindor/
soon to be a front-page whore./
Back against the wall, eh?"
Grace had no objections to that, nodding along as Millicent continued on her character assasination campaign.
"I always told you Wendling's nothing more/
than a revolving door, swinging round/
And it might sound out of bounds-/
because I might not like him/
and honestly to be played like he was/
he's got to be a half-watt short of dim-/
But he deserves better-everyone does."
Grace's shrillness had barely lost impact with her back turned to me. I started trailing behind them in a trance of morbid curiosity.
"Oh, it was right awful, all right./
On New Year's Eve Night!/
While wearing a Weasley sweater!/
And have you seen the letter?"
Millicent asked, falsetto rising.
"The one that tactless bint/
wrote to Marcus Flint/
begging him to bring the team/
for a one-on-five match/
of capture the snatch?/
I could scream!/
How could he do that to me?/
Why would he agree?"
Grace agreed, voice taking on a condescending tone.
"Well, you know what they say about the grass./
"And girls without class?"
Millicenter dutifully supplied the next line. I recognized it as one of the many Slytherin 'Unofficial Guidelines'.
"Dirtier than mud,/
Filthy as their blood."
Grace finished the last line before they rounded the corner. I did not follow them but I heard their cackling continue down the hallway.
"The more they've slain,/
the more set in the stain."
You don't have time to panic, Andrella! Don't you dare let them get to you! Romona chastised at the first sign of an attack. Her tone remained firm, but displayed her own concern. You need to breathe. Come on. Breathe deep. Twice in, Twice out. Hold.
I tried to follow the breathing exercises but I couldn't stop my mind from racing. Between Romona's and Neviah's thoughts there was barely room for my own. So, I blurted them out. "What were they talking about?"
You need to breathe in time with Romona. Please? Neviah pleaded. Deciding it might be easier to let their thoughts remain dominant, I began to breathe.
Twice in, twice out. Hold. Again. Romona repeated her instructions.
Thank you. Neviah sighed her relief. As much as I hate to admit it, Romona's right. How you handle the situation is essential to the path you set for yourself. You are at a very crucial crossroads in your life. I cannot give you any details, just advice. How you act is important; Don't let anyone's opinion of you change how you view yourself.
What aren't you telling me? I demanded.
There's no time to explain anymore and it would not do you any good. You need to go to class before it's over. You need to focus on the lesson and ignore everything else. Stay behind after and ask Snape to show you what happened at breakfast. This is something you need to see with your own eyes to believe. Romona gave firm instructions, increasing my confusion while leaving no room for questions. Not that I would let that stop me...
I repeated my original question, seeing no reason to budge.
There's no time, Andrella. You must go and save as much face as you can. Ignore everyone and keep your head held high. The longer you stay out here continuing this pointless argument, the more damage done. NOW GO! Neviah's gentleness ceased at the last part, quickly leaving me fresh out of argument.
Trust us, Andrella. This is best. It will make sense soon. There was open regret in Romona's wavering tone that made me hold my rude reply.
Instead I made sure the hall was clear before materializing without further argument. I took another pair of coupled breaths to calm myself. Fingers clenched around the handle, I tried to prepare myself for the worst possible scenario. Based on the Sisters' warning and encouragement of strength, this lesson would be a difficult one for me to learn. One last set of breaths and I schooled my expression. All I had to do was push open the door. Once inside, all I had to do was not look at Fred...or George.
Every head in the classroom snapped up at the sound of the door slamming shut as I lost my grip on the handle. When the class identified me as the source of the disturbance in the otherwise silent classroom, there was a split reaction. A reaction that no amount of warning could prepare me to handle properly. Then began the snickering, giggling, mocking cacophony of whispers. There were eyebrows raised. Frowns. Grimaces. Leers. Jeers. But no smiles. Only laughter born of malicious intent-all at my expense.
At least from the Ravenclaw half of the class. Those wearing scarlet and gold met me with icy contempt. Disgust. Betrayal. Shock. Loathing. Hatred. Almost in one synchronized movement, my housemate tilted their chins, faces screwed up in disgust as they made a pointed display of turning their backs to me. Before further disturbance could be made, Snape rose to the front of the class.
Commanding the room back to order, he raised his voice over the din of the Ravenclaws, "ENOUGH! I told you once already. This is a space for learning, not mindless chatter. Those who give me reason to repeat myself for a third time will see me for three Saturday detentions. Now you all will mind your potions or you all will fail."
There was enough conviction in his rant that most students turned back to the potion they were tasked to brew. Lee and Angelina had turned back around to glare at me one last time. Angelina whispered something to Lee that made his face light up with malice as his eyes narrowed on me. I cocked my head in confusion. Lee scoffed and they both turned their backs to me once more.
Frozen for only a second, I shook my head and made me way to an empty desk. Odd. Not once do I remember Elliott being absent in the six years we've been potions partners. Despite my best intentions, I knew George and Fred's desk was empty and they were not elsewhere in the room. I didn't need to look at their empty seats to confirm-I could feel it. I knew.
A quick glance around the room and I noticed another empty seat, this one belonging to Renea. When I turned back to the front, Snape was approaching my desk. The look in his eyes was the most difficult to read. If I didn't know better, the look he was giving me contained...pity.
Snape leaned down, voice almost inaudible as he took every measure not to be heard. "Ignore them. Today's practical lesson is brewing the Draught of Living Death. You don't have the time for that now so brew me a batch of Pepper-Up Potion and we'll speak after class." With one last sorrowful glance, Snape straightened and returned to his desk.
I spent the remainder of class asking myself a million unanswered questions as I worked to brew the assigned potion. The ones bothering me most: Where is everyone? Where is George? Why were Millicent and Grace talking about me? And Why do I have such an awful feeling I'll regret getting these answers?
Fear of Snape's wrath was enough to keep the room silent but not enough to stop the meaningful glares sent my way when the professor's back was turned. All of them came from those wearing navy and bronze. Now that Angelina and Lee seemed to have made their change in opinion of me public, the rest of the room felt liberated in expressing their own opinions. The rest of my housemates ignored me where the Ravenclaw reaction was divided by a gender line. The reaction of the Ravenclaw females ranged from apathy, mild curiosity, to pity, contempt, even cruel amusement. The male gaze was more focused, predatory, ridiculing-a combination that left me feeling like a joke without understanding when I missed the punchline.
If my hand gripped the knife too tight as I chopped Mandrake root, if my shoulders were poised too tense as I crushed bicorn horn, then I would allow myself that imperfection in form. Distracted as I was, I still remembered to add only two pinches of the later ingredients first before the Mandrake root. I also remembered to let it heat for only ten seconds on medium before leaving it to brew.
I was then facing thirty minutes of uninterrupted time to think before the next step of the potion could be completed. These were all reasons to celebrate in addition to my face muscles staying tight, keeping my expression blank, not betraying the turmoil raging inside. To the outside, I hoped I looked unphased as I carried out the steps to complete the potion. I felt the weight of every eye piercing my skin. I hoped they thought they bounced off-shield too strong to let them sink in. Like Neviah said, it really didn't matter if their words affected me or not. The only thing that mattered was that I made it clear that I would not allow their words to affect me. My bottom lip started to sting as my teeth dug in to keep the burning contained in my eyes, but it wasn't working anymore.
Vengeance is exacted in four parts: in, for, with, and despite dry eyes. Romona supplied, her voice gentle yet firm. I should not be surprised that she knew exactly what to say. I noticed that I was smiling at the same time I realized my eyes were suddenly dry.
What stage of dry eyes I was currently on? I couldn't tell you, but I was more determined to keep them dry. The emptiness surrounding me, the bubble I found myself in was one of the most uncomfortable experiences I never expected to encounter. It was more than anything, a display of how quickly the tide could turn in terms of public opinion in the age of school aged children. Unless there was something big-like bigger than the troll let into the castle by Quirrell my third year, I really don't understand what could have happened in less than twenty four hours to make me public enemy number one. I might have not interacted with anyone save the handful of students in the class but if this was the reaction from Angelina and Lee? If they were able to lead the rest of the Gryffindors to denounce me as publicly as to do so in class in front of the Ravenclaws? In combination of what I could (barely) make of the conversation overheard in the hallway? Suddenly, even as my stomach grumbled its protest, I was never happier to have slept through breakfast.
My rumination took over, my body working on autopilot to brew the potion. Although my mental companions had taken a vow of silence, I couldn't miss their presence. I had never noticed before, how their touch extended beyond my mind. How they had the power to impart wisdom to not only my mind, but all that it touched. My muscles carried out the actions like they had brewed this potion a few thousand times before, like they were guided by a clear mind not distracted by the sudden unease bubbling in their stomach.
I hadn't even noticed the lesson had ended until I felt someone bump roughly into my shoulder. I looked up to find Angelina, Alicia, and Lee crowded around me. Before I could fully bring myself out of my seething fog of self-doubt, Lee was speaking.
"Don't you dare show your face anywhere near the Boy's dorm tonight. Or any night for that matter. Consider your invitation rescinded. You'll find your belongings already in the Common Room." His word- the look on his face of absolute loathing-raised even more questions but cemented that my doubt was more than reasonable.
"Don't bother, Lee. Have Spotty bring it all straight to the bin where she and everything she owns belongs." Alicia cackled.
"What-"
"Don't." Angelina snapped. "After what you've done, no one wants to hear what you have to say. No one wants to see your stupid face. You don't have a place to stay in the Girl's dorm either. I don't give a rat's arse what McGonagall has to say about it. We're not sharing a room with a backstabbing tart!"
I was robbed of the opportunity to defend myself or rather saved from having to defend myself against crimes I was not aware I had committed. I didn't get to ask what the bloody hell was going on either because Snape swooped in, clearing his throat to announce his sudden presence at the table. "Miss Wendling, a word if you will. The rest of you get out of my classroom."
The look of hate was undisguised as the Gryffindor trio glared in equal turn between the professor and me. The unanswered question was what the hell have I done to piss my friends off so badly they regarded me in the same light as the professor they all loathed most. It's not like I had put anything in their pumpkin juice.
I must have still appeared to be in shock because once the three of them vacated the room Snape took pity on me.
"Take a seat, Andrella. I know you must have many questions and I also know you will not like any of the answers I can provide." Snape said with a heavy sigh before turning and leading the way back to private office.
"You're damn right I have questions. Let's start with what the hell happened at breakfast?" I exclaimed, too worked up to take my seat across from him. I paced around the chair instead, gesturing wilding with my hands as I spoke.
"Please sit, Andrella. I need for you to calm down before I can let you see what happened for yourself." Snape instructed with more patience that I would have given him credit.
I threw myself down on the chair to appease him but I couldn't stop my knee from bouncing. "Okay, I'm sitting. Happy now?"
"Happy is not the word I would use." Snape let out an inelegant snort. He was eyeing me with a wariness I have not seen from him since I discovered how he earned his dark mark. "But thank you for sitting. What you are about to see will not be easy for you to digest or for me to show you. Before I let you into my memories I must ask you a few questions."
"Of course, Professor. If It will get you to tell me what's actually going on here, then by all means, ask me anything." I replied, knee bouncing higher in impatience.
"I am glad you say that, Andrella, because these questions will not be pleasant for either of us...regardless, I must ask you to answer them honestly and without taking offense." Snape said, pausing for just a beat before adding, "I cast no judgment whatever answers you give as long as they are honest answers. Know that I have a keen ability to separate people from their actions when necessary."
"...Okay?" I said, folding my arms across my chest as I took in just how uncomfortable the potion master was sitting across from me. It aided to my already extreme high level of anxiety at hearing his clarification. Anything that warranted a disclaimer was by definition a potentially risky situation. "I'll try not to be offended, but I make no promises. Go ahead."
Snape nodded his head solemnly before he finally met my eyes. Placing his folded hands on the desk before him, he kept his tone as casual as possible while he asked, "Have you cheated on George Weasley?"
"WHAT? OF COURSE NOT!" I shouted back, already failing at my promise of not getting upset. Snape ignored my outburst, holding his hand up to silence me before he continued.
"To be perfectly clear, you are claiming these rumors to be false?"
'What rumors? Of course, they're false! How could you-?" I demanded before I regained some semblance of composure. I used it to reaffirm instead of accuse. "I have never once cheated on George. I never even thought about it."
"People have been speculating that you have had a very...busy start to the new year." Snape said, choosing the most delicate way he could sum up how vicious the whispers of Hogwarts Thriving Rumor Mill would be if they thought I was cheating on George.
"Who?" I asked, voice cracking on the word. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Who do they say I've cheated on George with? Who is saying this?"
"Everyone." Snape said evenly, showing his respect by way of answering my questions with his inherent brutal honesty. "By way of the spectacle at Breakfast this morning, the student body is now under the impression that last night you cheated on George Weasley with Adrian Pucey, Grahmn Montague, Lucian Boyle, Theodore Nott, Marcus Flint and Elliott Napier. And-oh how do I put this?" Snape exhaled deeply, palid cheeks coloring ever so slightly, muttering to himself as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "No good way. The most popular rumor I have overheard is that all of those listed except for Mr. Napier...occurred concurrently."
"WHAT?!" I repeated, voice reaching a new level of shrill I didn't think possible. Even after hearing Grace Campell sing on end about how much of a worthless slag she thinks I am. Thank Merlin, he had me sit.
"If you remain calm, I will let you see for yourself." Snape reminded. I choked down the bile at the look of pity in his eyes.
"Yeah, okay." I replied, taking a few deep breaths. "Let's do this."
Snape nodded his consent, making himself comfortable in his chair while I sat on the edge of mine. One more calming breath and then I willed his mind to provide me with any answers it could provide for the dozens of questions buzzing around in my own.
I didn't close my eyes this time and the sensation was jarring to it put it mildly. I watched the scene shift until the forms of the crowded Great Hall appeared. From the staff table, I had a front row seat for the action materializing in front of me. Several things registered at once.
First, the Great Hall was truly in a state of chaos of which I had never seen before. Anyone who drank from the cursed goblets placed at the Slytherin table were all starting to display the effects. Their robes were shifting in color, horrifying shades of fuschia, chartreuse, buttercup yellow, pea green, cerulean, all shifting constantly to form geometric patterns, animal prints, argyles. As the Slytherin table erupted into a sea of clashing colors, it provided a kaleidoscope effect-unexplained and entracing.
True madness ensued when the first of the afflicted opened their mouths to protest and an operatic bellow came out of the small body of a Slytherin second year. Suddenly everyone voiced their panic and the Great Hall descended into cacophony.
As those cursed continued to carry on-every word sung, every person carrying a different tune, every note off-key-I studied the face of the unafflicted to find their faces alight with glee. Their laughter added to the deafening din. Manic energy cackled through the air. It was only mildly watered down in this memory state and I found myself wishing for the thousandth time that I hadn't slept through breakfast. I didn't have time to appreciate my spellwork for more than a moment before I registered a flash of fire in my peripheral vision.
Following it, I saw George and Fred stomping forward into the waves of the singing sea. They glowered at every face, shoving their way through bodies until they reached the end of the table. Squinting, I made out their targets to be those who I allegedly cheated with on George-sans Elliott. I had no time to wonder about his whereabouts before George punched Marcus Flint square in the nose.
"You absolute toerag! I told you what would happen if you ever came near Andrella again!" George bellowed as he yanked Flint off the bench by his robes. George tossed the stocky Quidditch Captain to the ground like he was weightless.
"Guess you better show him, Georgie. Might be more of a hands-on learner." Fred cackled at his brother's side, eyeing the onlookers. At the moment they seemed too stunned to react, but the expression Fred wore made it clear he would not tolerate interruptions. Even Marcus Flint wore a shocked expression, one hand cradling his broken nose while the other raised in defense. Even with blood dripping down his face, Flint found the gall to goad George on further. By the shit-eating grin on his face, he was quite pleased with what he had thought to say.
"What's the matter, Georgie?/
Mad you missed the orgy?/
This will be hard for you to hear,/
Because I didn't just come near,/
I made her open her mouth wide,/
I made her beg me to come inside./
I had your bitch on her knees./
Crying out, "Marcus, Please!"
"Shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth. Before. I. Shut. It. For. You." George growled, landing a blow to match every word. George branched out in his attack, striking Flint's chest and stomach, but his knuckles seemed to favor the contact with Flint's face most.
"I would apologize,/
But I don't regret it./
The way Andrella swallows/
While looking me dead in the eyes,/
Has me wondering how I'd fit
Between her easily spread thighs/
If I ever again decide to wallow
Where a weasel sleeps and shits./
The undivided attention of the Great Hall was already directed to the far right, now a circle formed to make way for the fighting. Marcus might have landed in a few blows, but they were no match for George. It was like George couldn't even feel the blows as they landed. Given how enraged his own movements seems, I figured he couldn't.
Someone might have tried to interfere but at the moment it turned critical, Fred began to stomp off, eyes narrowed into the surrounding crowd. "You! What did I tell you?" Fred bellowed, waving a pointed finger. Fred had his wand raised in a blink, replacing his finger as it pointed at his target. Squinting, I instantly recognized the shocked face of Elliott Napier.
Fred glanced over his shoulder to call out to his ever-punching twin. "Looks like we might have another hands on learner over here, Georgie."
"Give him Hell, Freddie!" George encouraged, spitting a mouth full of blood into Flint's face before he began layering blows with renewed enthusiasm.
"With pleasure." Fred snickered before he brandished his wand, knocking Elliott on his arse.
In turn, the twins were able to cause considerable damage in the two minutes it took the teachers to react and separate them. Another minute and the twins were being carted off by an irate McGonagall. Professor Dumbledore and Professor Sprout worked on the twins' victims victims-Marcus Flint with a face so bloody and bruised he would have been unrecognizable if not for his trademark unibrow and Elliott's entire body a swelling red, bump as if stung by a thousand killer bees.
All the while the hall flashed a garish, neon Kaleidoscope. Now that the fight was broken up, chatter resumed. All that drank from the enchanted goblets sang speculations in various melodies. Their lyrical waving, shifting to notice my mysterious absence. Another moment and they become distracted, at least momentarily, by the morning post.
XXX
We returned to Snape's office with a disorienting jerk. My hands gripped the antique wood of his desk, nails scratching as my hands shook with the effort. I don't know how long we sat there in silence, but when Snape said my name I nearly fell out of my chair. Righting myself I cleared my throat before trying to speak. If only to give myself another second to try and gather my thoughts. It wasn't enough. I still blurted out a question that could only be classified as stupid.
"Why is this happening to me?"
"It's your destiny." Snape offered with a wry smile that fully realized how unhelpful that truth was to me.
"It's my destiny to have everyone thing I'm a slag that cheats on her boyfriend with what was it-five? No. six!-different blokes in a single night? How pathetically scandalous." I laughed without humor, too overwhelmed to act with anything but defense mechanisms.
"No. It's your destiny to overcome whatever obstacles you face with elegance and grace. You will not let something as trivial as reputation or honor be your downfall." Snape said with reassuring force.
"I don't understand what would give someone reason to start this rumor? What do they have to gain from it? And why would George believe it!" I exclaimed more than asked, growing more frustrated with the last fact. Because there was no denying George believed whatever rumors were flying around the castle. You don't beat someone an inch from death with your bare hands in front of a hundred witnesses if you don't believe your actions aren't a hundred percent justifiable.
"I'm sorry that I do not have answers to these questions." Snape admitted after an extended moment of silence. "But you many have access to the answers if you open your mind to them."
"What do you mean?" I resigned, too tired to be angry with the only person who seemed to be willing to talk with me instead of just about me.
"Your visions last night. I am assuming the potion was successful and that is the reason you were so late to lessons?"
"I-Yes." I answered quickly, confused by the lack of usual fury concerning tardiness.
"In that case, you are excused as long as you tell me what you saw. "Snape offered.
"But George-"
"And Fred are still being scolded in McGonagall's office and will be for the tangible future. Just as Flint and Napier are still in the Hospital Wing. We have more than enough time to discuss your visions before I excuse you from the rest of your lessons to sort out this unfortunate misunderstanding." Snape said in away that left no room for negotiation.
"Fine. What do you want to know?" I conceded.
"If successful, you should have had three distinct visions-the first of the past, the second being the present, and the third a near-distant future. Do you agree that these were the order you experienced the effects?" Snape asked, voice naturally switching to clinical scientist.
I nodded my head in affirmation.
"Very well. Then I ask you, Andrella. Please tell me what you experienced, sparing no detail. Nothing is too big or too small. Share as much and as vividly as you are able. As a future Potions Master, I know how excited you must be that this longshot worked at all. As one of the bravest people and brightest minds I have had the pleasure of exploring, I know how much they must have terrified you. I know their nature was not altogether pleasant, if at all. Again, I ask. I do not demand."
We spent the next few minutes in an intense staring match, until I decided it was a waste of time. With a heavy sigh, I resigned to the fact that I was not leaving the classroom until I told him about the effects of the potion. So I took another deep breath and with the next one-I told him EVERYTHING.
XXX
AUTHOR'S NOTE!
Long over due, but who's surprised? Anyway! Happy Holidays (if you celebrate!) and Happy New Year! This isn't necessarily a happy chapter to give as a holiday present but I pushed to get it out before 2020! There may be a few mistakes and confusing format stuff, so just let me know if it's too confusing. And as always, any thoughts you have! How do you feel about all this Drama Tea? Sippin' or spittin' it out?
Next chapter? Andrella finds George...and he's not alone...DUH DUH DUH!
EX's and OH's
Audrey V. Sullivan