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By The Light	By : lycanthrope Category: Harry Potter > FemSlash - Female/Female Views: 17685 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: All of the characters portrayed in this fic (apart from Jamie.) and all other creations existing within the world Of Harry Potter are the creative genius of J.K Rowling, I make no profit from the writing or posting of this fan fiction.

Chapter List
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Title: By The Light

Rating: NC-17

Summary: In the first year of Voldemort's return a Slytherin girl who is very close to Hermione, undergoes a drastic change through herself and the world around her. This is her story.

Disclaimer: Most of the characters locations portrayed in this fic are drawn directly from the Harry Potter novels which are the sole property and creative genius of J.K Rowling.

Warnings: This fiction deals with a loving and intimate relationship between two woman. Graphic consensual sex scenes are a distinct possibility. Graphic violence, gore and foul language are not only possible but should be expected. You have been warned. Please do not read any further is this content offends you or is illegal for you to view for any reason.

Notes: A big big thank you to Asher for betaing this work.

Chapter 1

Dragging my feet through the tall uncut dew covered grass, allowing my jeans to drag and gather moisture. Unhindered as my ankles feel the chill of the cold liquid gathering along the material making it become heavy and cling to my shins.

Looking ahead at what now seems like small dots in the sky moving in every direction. Like flies, each knowing where they want to go but undecided on which would be the fastest route to take. Instead becoming unfocussed and uncoordinated, darting around the sky with no discernible pattern. They however are not my concern, yet are in the direction I'm heading.

Not a scrap of fabric rests upon my skin to betray my house to anyone but those who know my face. The heavy mantel of green and silver would do little more than hinder me in this endeavour, so I have taken much care over today's wardrobe. Cautiously keeping to mutual blacks and greys, like a shadow slinking between the high blades of grass, trying to look less and less like a slithering, serpent with every onward step.

As I near the stands of the Quidditch pitch each player becomes clearer. The spectators coming into view, appearing through the thin morning mist. The players may not be my concern, but this doesn't stop my trained eyes from appraising each of them in turn, privately criticizing every detail of the team.

One young boy isn't gripping his broom tightly enough to remain stable enough in the air to receive the ball. I can see him even at this distance correcting his balance every few moments. Another hovering almost dejectedly above the ground, is far too high to be in any positive strategic position. Such mistakes within my own practice sessions would achieve little more than scathing words and derogatory comments but here the house captain calmly flies between each player, gently correcting with a private word in their ear where necessary. Such differing styles makes me wonder how much effect it will have when confronted with the organised chaos of an actual game.

As I approach, my eyes still on the pitch I silently commend the few players on this team pulling their weight, even as they are beginning to become both frustrated and fatigued with their less than able team mates.

My feet touch the bottom most step of the stands and do not hesitate in climbing up them. One foot heavily landing in front of the other, clattering against the hollow wood as it bends beneath my weight. Tearing my eyes from the pitch I rest my sights on my one and only goal of this particular venture into the spacious castle grounds.

Reaching my destination I give my full attention to who is probably the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. Her dark untameable hair hanging low around her face hiding many of her features from view, but I can still see her small private smile beneath her natural vale. Her relatively, recently shortened front teeth glistening in the waning late autumn sunlight. As I stand at her side hoping to gain her undivided attention, her head tilts back to view me, her thick mane falling back to reveal her deep soulful brown eyes, both of them twinkling in my direction showing surprise but no form of anger and I give myself permission to release my bated breath.

Holding my posture alongside her and ineffectively wringing my hands for warmth against the bitter cold. "Cold morning." I begin with idle chitchat, having already taken things between us to a much more public level than either of us has in the previous two years of our rendezvous. She merely nods in response. I turn once more towards the pitch taking a seat next to her. Leaning far forward to rest my elbows heavily upon my knees and glancing with uninterested eyes over the players, picking one and following him with my gaze. An outward appearance of having nothing further to say. An appearance which is far from the truth. I have a thousand things I wish to say. Deep emotional confessions I fear I may never make and crude almost graphic references neither of us wish to fall on idle ears. "Time of year I suppose." Reducing myself to keeping the conversation primarily on the Scottish autumn weather.

She finally looks at me and those dark brown eyes make my insides melt. "What are you doing here?" The smile on her lips tells me she's not upset or even that worried. Simple curiosity is all that brings her to raise her question and that simple fact make me smile.

Such an innocent and inconsequential question that brings unbridled words to the tip of my tongue that I must force myself to clamp my teeth closed against so they do not fall from between my lips. Words of emotions that even now swirl around into a painful knot deep within my chest, falling heavily against my shoulders and begging for some form of release.

With practised ease I ignore the rapid beating of my heart and even though I wish for nothing more than to be able to open it wide and spill it forth I offer nothing more than a nonchalant shrug. "Here or there. It makes little difference." The indifference blankets both my words and tone of voice with such unnatural effectiveness that it must be plain to see that they are untrue. That the tight control, which I hold over both my emotions and my heart is slowly beginning to slip between clutching fingers. The desire to hold onto them once so ferocious and unyielding, now dwindling with every passing heartbeat. "Besides, you were here and I wasn't. Couldn't think of a reason I shouldn't correct that.”

She makes a deep hum in the back of her throat, the twinkling mischief held deeply within her eyes informs me that she has already discovered a fatal flaw in my logic. "Because you happen to be in Slytherin. On the team. We happen to be in Gryffindor and are practising our tactics." Somehow, as she always seams to, she manages to place and underlying note of sarcasm in her tone but eradicates any form of aggression that would usually accompany such an action.

"All of those are very good points. But I am off duty." I knit my fingers behind my head and lean back against the wooden seat to show that I am relaxed and not taking mental notes. Even though I may have inadvertently already done just that. That provokes a small laugh from my companion. "We meeting tonight?" I say softly so only she is able to hear my words over the wind. Trying to say as little as possible while still saying everything I must with just a meaningful flick in my gaze. Over the past few months I have been getting tired of cryptic languages and secret movements. This morning I just simply could not bring myself to slink about in the dark any longer. So I got myself dressed and made my way out into the cold, harsh light of day.

"If you want to" she replies, just as quietly. I try and fail to suppress the toothy grin forming across my face. "Just thinking for a change maybe my room." She's getting daring. I like that.

Just when I think it's all going really smooth. Things went off without a hitch. Mission complete with no men down. I'm recognized. All of the people who were once playing on their brooms now come thundering up the steps and I had been so captivated by the vision at my side that I had not noticed the change in demeanour of the team. "What are you doing here?" Are the first words out Angelina Johnson's mouth, her scolding tone effectively dragging me from the pleasant exchange with the woman I am conversing with.

"Oh I'm sorry was this your practice?" Playing dumb is low, I know but I very rarely actively seek a heated exchange and over the years have learned that trying to submit to another's superior knowledge is a quick way to effectively eradicated any unwanted hostility. "Sorry, I didn't realize. I thought we had this morning."

"You didn't have to stick around." The green eyes of Harry Potter look down on me with disdain and I meet his unrelenting stare unblinkingly.

"We could have been after you." I'm really trying to keep up the pretence. The truth is we haven't got a morning practice till the end of the week, anyone observant enough to keep a watchful eye on the training schedule would know such a thing but I have already committed to my hastily concocted ruse and must now follow it wherever it leads.

Ron Weasley ignores my comment and proceeds to talk to my counterpart. "You alright Hermione?" With that love sick look in his eyes that makes my blood boil. Luckily she is blissfully unaware of this and so far I have not needed to beat the boy down to keep him away from our secret relationship.

Slight annoyance laces her voice as she answers. "I'm fine you don't have to babysit me."

"Get out of here." The black haired wonder practically orders. His eyes blazing and in his anger completely ignores the exchange between his two friends.

I want to stand, hold my ground, shout and scream my true intentions to the heavens with the blind hope that maybe, just maybe I might be met with understanding. With resounding forgiveness for every indiscretion I may committed in the past and even as the urge burns it's way through my veins I know I will not be able to. With so many around me, so many personalties that I not yet encountered in depth, provide an abundance of variables and makes it impossible to predict the outcome to such an outburst. I have never been one to step unprepared into the fire and simply let it burn.

So instead I fall back on old habits, submitting once more even as every muscle and organ twists and screams its anguish. Bunching my shoulder in a tight shrug I push against my knees to slowly stand. Silently bowing my head and keeping my gaze carefully trained to the ground. “I didn't come here for a fight, Potter.” I hear him grunt in distance at the use of his surname. “So I’ll take my leave of you.”

I take the steps one at a time drawing it out, my hands balled into fists and pushed deep into my pockets, with not even a backwards glance.

Well if I'm honest just the one. Straight into those dark brown eyes of Hermione Granger.

It doesn't take long after my departure before play resume again for the Gryffindor Team. The unique hollow sounds of the quaffle being passed can be heard over my shoulder. My interference appearing to be only a small distraction from their practice. All of them unaware of the importance of such a short conversation.

As I approach the castle I veer off to the side and avoid the main doors to avert myself from any sort of questions with regards to the state of play out on the practice field this morning. The last thing I need right now is for any fellow members of Slytherin to see me returning from the Quidditch Pitch as I have no prepared response as to the reason I had for been out there in the first place. My snap decision to approach Hermione this morning had left no room for the normal preparations I would make in such circumstances.

I had not been deceitful when I had said I had no interest in the opposing team's tactics or manoeuvres. I have no intention of passing any of my casual observations and criticisms on to any member of any of the other teams. My true intentions may not have been either innocent or honourable but they had much more influence over my life than Quidditch. Which, in itself is saying something.

Quidditch to many is just a sport. An intense, interesting, invigorating sport, but rarely anything more. Quidditch to me is an escape. Even if the game only lasts ten seconds I have still escaped my life for that period of time. I'm a Chaser for the Slytherin team and I'm good at it, really good at it. When I'm up there on my broom, wind in my face and scoring goal after goal, I'm free.

I'm no longer pure blooded, Slytherin Prefect with license to badger younger students. No longer the only daughter of Alcor Desay. A man believing himself to deserve a far higher station in life than he has been able to accomplish. He sees himself as the right hand man to The Dark Lord himself. Everyone else in the magical community who is much more respected by the Dark Lord is simply in his way. The fact that the Dark Lord would not even recognize the man if they were to pass on the street has in no way deterred my father from his delusion. He is a proud man but not a fool; somewhere along the line he has realized the futility of his own actions so has turned to his three children, one by one, to escalate his standing. Resolute that I or my two brothers will command the respect he deserves among the dark wizards of the world and he will trail along carefully following behind in our footsteps.

My older brother Dale rebelled against him not long after beginning life at Hogwarts. Always a free spirit and struggling against an overbearing parent demands. He left the family home shortly following his eighteenth birthday. Taking a position deeply set in the muggle world. Something we all keep as a closely guarded secret always hidden from my father's eyes.

My younger brother James has yet to see his eleventh birthday. I'm still not sure how he feels towards our father. It's just one of those topics which is never discussed within family circles. I'm sure his thoughts will be made clear now the Dark Load has returned and he will be attending school next year.

My mother, Capella Desay stands in direct contrast with her husband. A kind and gentle soul who's only expectations of her children is that we lead full and happy lives. She nurtured the three of us though much of our formative years, drying our tears when our father had spoken harshly or lashed out with some form of punishment that would often reduce us to emotional wrecks. Bringing us up on tales of Hero's and Gods, which stay with me to this day. Even though she often disagreed with my father’s methods her soft nature often held her tongue and as such she resigned herself to only picking up the pieces her spouse left behind.

That leaves me. Jamelia Mary-Alice Desay. My father had taken a keen interest in my early magical studies as my birth coincided with the fall of the Dark Lord. All dark witches and wizards knew he would return, no man of such power could ever let the measly inconvenience of death stop his reign. Thus my father was determined to have a child ready and waiting for his return, trained to such a degree that they will be accepted within his inner circle. Teaching me spells and potions from a very early age, some of which now I would prefer to have never leaned.

My first wide-eyed year of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, I wanted nothing more than to completely please my father, at that time he was my whole world and praise is not something that Alcor Desay can ever be accused of showing in abundance. After being sorted into Slytherin, which filled him with joy, I immediately sought out and befriended the sons and daughters of many key figures within the dark wizard community. Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson taking the two top spots on this list. I was always just behind them. Never seen and never noticed. Slyly hiding behind the figureheads and aiding in their glory, warping it to my own design for my own benefit. The only ones to notice me in those years were the ones I wished to be seen by. The dark wizards, those still loyal to the dark lord, even in his absence. My father began to be invited to prestigious events. Taking a higher paid and a much more respected job in the wake of the connections I had blindly started.

This is how it continued until my third year. Two momentous things happened at this time. Both affecting my life and happiness in ways that I could never have predicted at the time. In April one of the Slytherin chasers was transferred to The Durmstrang Institute for Magical Learning leaving the position open for me to fill, quickly finding my passion and skill for the sport, which up until then I had paid very little attention to. The only real reason I had tried out for the place was because Draco had suggested it and it would give me much more access to him and his connections. I soon learned to love practices, living through each moment, bearing the mundaneness of school life to feel truly alive atop of a speeding broomstick.

The second thing which happened to me in this year changed my perspective of my life. I met Hermione Jean Granger. At the time she didn't know who I was. This was weeks before my first Quidditch game. I'm quiet and collected. Always unnoticed on the sidelines. That's the way I like it. The unseen influence.

I obviously knew who she was. The brains of the golden trio. She was out in the castle grounds alone, a forgotten book lying open in her lap as she gazed over the still waters of the black lake. Right here and now I see very little point in lying. As I watched her watching nothing that day I saw a golden opportunity to gain second hand secrets of the boy who lived. She was mealy a means to and end so I sat down and started to talk. Within half an hour she had secretly stolen my heart. Within one month we were physically intimate and by the end of that school year I knew without a shadow of doubt that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with a Gryffindor muggleborn. Another dirty little secret kept hidden away from my father along with ever other person in my life.

Gradually over the past year or so I have been slowly extracting myself from the tangled web of dark magic. Stepping away unnoticed and spending more and more time with the brilliant young witch. All we have are stolen, secret moments. A highly physical relationship which is slowly evolving into something more.

Stepping out and informing her friends and the school is a large step, one I don't think either of us can ever be truly ready for. One that I still want to take, which explains my actions this morning. Stepping out into the harsh morning sunlight to test the waters surrounding her. Waters I now know are by no means calm. A small difficulty I would happily try to overcome, the question is would she? Something which I am trying to learn little by little.

I make a pass around the castle and enter through the dungeons and steadily make my way towards Gryffindor tower, badgering a couple of second years for loitering in the hallway. As I start to ascend the stairs maintaining my image of a cool and collected exterior even as my heart rate begins to increase substantially.

As I begin to approach the door to Hermione's private room with my heart beating rapidly in my throat, I remember to glance up and down the corridor to check that I am alone before pushing my shoulder against the wooden door and whispering her password to gain entrance. My heartbeat only begins to slow when I see the room still empty.

In all honesty I had not anticipated being recognized by the entire Gryffindor team quite so quickly and I frankly don't know what kind of reception Hermione is going to get from her house mates. Or for that matter how she will react to it. I had intended to test the waters but I realize I may have forced her to make a decision with regards to our future relationship. She may have to decide between her friends and me. A choice have have no illusions will never swing in my favour.

I make my way to the high window, taking a pair of trinkets from her desk between my fingers and testing its weight as I look out across the grounds where the Gryffindor team is beginning to make their way back to the warmth of the castle. I cannot make out within the crowd which is Hermione, or if any sort of confrontation has taken place.

I know there isn't a lot I can do about this situation now so I turn my attention to the small item in my hands. It is two small, smooth spherical objects. They easily glide against each other within my palm, jingling as they move. I have absolutely no idea what they are or their purpose. So I slowly lower them back into the small velvet lined box from where they came just as the door pushes open and Hermione steps through. "Hello Jamie." She greets.

I offer her a small smile and I am very relieved as the agitated look on her face instantly drops and she offers me a bright smile in return. I turn fully to her and lean against her desk, my arms crossing across my chest. "Is everything all right?"

A long sigh is pushed through her nose as the pulls off her thick robe and throws it over her bed. "As good as it can be." She stops with her hands on her hips and looks me up and down. "What on earth possessed you to come to Quidditch practice?"

I shrug, not really having an acceptable answer. "Don't know. Suppose I was bored." The truthful response would have been that I had been unable to see her for over a week and I missed her, but such topics of conversation are never touched upon and are avoided at all costs between the two of us.

She shakes her head and drops her hands to her sides. "It was dangerous." From the way she is looking over me I can see she is not happy with my answer but thankfully she allows the subject to drop. "Just leave it a while before you do something like that again."

I feel my forehead crease as I ask. "Were they suspicious?"

She laughs before coming to stand before me and draws me into the circle of her arms, leaning her head back to look up at me. "Not even remotely. Who would ever guess what is between you and me?" Not even I would hazard a guess as to exactly what is between us at this moment. "No. But it's still dangerous for you. You know how the boys can be."

She takes my wrists and pulls them behind her back resting her cheek against my shoulder, settling into my circle of my arms. “Acutely, no I don't." I say in honesty, I have never really met either of her best friends. I've seen them in the hallways and at lessons but never truly met them.

"Fiercely protective" she says her lips pressing against the skin of my neck. "Just be careful."

My eyes close against the instant burning in the pit of my belly at her small action and I drag her scent in through my nostrils. What this woman does to me with such a small simple act borders on frightening. It takes me but a moment to compose myself letting my eyes slide open and swallow the fierce beating of my heart. I bring my hand up to cup her cheek in my palm and gently pull her into a much more comfortable position to cover her lips with my own.
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By The Light