Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 13
- 14
- 15
Chapter 14

I stand without a word and follow her out of the hall, carefully keeping half a step behind her so as not to alert her to the action and so she cannot see the rapid shift in my mood, which up until this point had been borderline happy, quickly depleting into mild anger. I have no wish for her to see these reactions in me. Logically I know that she is not the person I should be directing the emotion towards. Yet I cannot stop the tightening in my chest and the muscles in my jaw slowly grinding my teeth into nothing but chalk.

We climb up several flights of stairs levelling out on the seventh floor. Only the hollow sounds of our footsteps for company. Her eyes trial over to me time and time again, she however remains silent, leading me down the narrow hallways to her secret meeting place.

She pulls me to a halt at what appears to be a seamless piece of wall and I look up and down the corridor in confusion. Wondering if they would truly be so bold as defy Umbridge's many decrees in such plain sight.

When I turn back to her she is busy pacing, her arm circling her waist and her chin resting in her other hand deep in thought. The behaviour is unorthodox to be sure, though I partake in the habit on a regular basis, especially recently, I have never seen the woman pace before. It doesn’t take long for the reason for her odd actions to become apparent.

It takes few seconds for me reassure myself of my own sanity and to truly believe what I am seeing. A door, a large arched oak door, materializing in from of me, though I am certain I saw no trace of it only moments ago.

Hermione only shrugs at the shocked look on my face and pushes against the large door and steps beneath the threshold. Impossible voices filter through from behind the impossible doorway, my curiosity and the almost impatient look on Hermione's face push my feet forward and I pass from the hallway into the room, which by all rights should not even exist, and my chest suddenly feels very tight with nerves.

Thirty or so students as one cease all movement to look in my direction and I hear the door close behind me. This is a much larger group than I had anticipated and all of them stare heavily at me, some show sneers of discontent, others with open curiosity.

I take a hesitant step backwards and rest my fingertips against my wand in my back pocket. Not letting my muscles relax even as Hermione's hand closes around my arm to stop any threatening movement. “It's alright Jamie.” She whispers, uttering the first words since we left the Great Hall. “No one is going to hurt you.”

Her words do nothing to calm my frayed nerves and slowly the sea of eyes all resting on my skin part to allow Harry to pass though unhindered, a genuine smile pulled across his face. “Jamie.” He stretches out his arms and indicates the room. “How do you like it?”

If someone doesn’t start explaining this whole thing really soon I have a feeling I will not be able to hide my new violent tenancies. “What is going on?”

He totally ignores my question and goes to pull a piece of parchment from the wall and makes his way over to me. “I need to you sign something.”

“Not on your life.” I take a step back from him and Hermione's fingers tighten on my limb, giving me the distinct sense of being surrounded. Wrenching my arm free I fix the black haired boy with my stare, pulling my wand from my pocket and letting it tap threateningly against my thigh as a precaution. “I'm not signing anything.”

He sighs as if he had expected such a reaction from me. “It's nothing sinister. Look.” He holds it up for me to see then turns it so I can see the back, wisely choosing not to advance on me further. “I've signed it, Hermione's signed it.”

“That’s not enough for me.” My teeth grit in annoyance, how can he not see it? How can none of them see what kind of position they have already put me into? “You want me to put my name down on something you are conducting in secret. What if you’re caught?”

“We wont be.” The conviction in his voice is enough for me to bark my laughter. “What?” Now he has the audacity to sound offended.

He truly thinks that this would be enough to convince me. I raise my wand to shoulder level and more than a few of the people around me draw an anxious breath in response. Harry to his credit doesn’t even flinch and I speak my spell loud and clear, so others might know that it is in no way intended to harm him. “Turpis.” The parchment glows a pail green and all of my suspicions are confirmed. “The damned thing is jinxed. No way in Tartarus, am I signing that.” Murmurs travel around the room at this revelation.

“I would have told you that.” He walks past me and flattens the slightly curled paper on the desk at the head of the room. “It's just so you don't tell Umbridge about all of this.”

I answer instantly. “Tell Umbridge? So she may accuse me of being part of an unauthorized organization?” Feeling very stuck between a rock and a hard place I eye the offending parchment with contempt.

An insistent tugging on my arm pulls my attention down towards Hermione and she speaks to me in a hushed whisper. “I jinxed that parchment. It causes you to break out in boils if you break the contract, nothing more. Secrecy is paramount and I know you can keep a secret.” Her small jest does dampen my initial anger but does not make me waver in my decision to remain off such an incriminating list. “Please?”

“You’re going to have to give me more than that.” I say just as quietly.

She shakes her head with her lips into a thin line. “Not until you sign.” She watches as my jaw tightens in response, I step forward with the full intention of leaving the room, but her palm against my breastplate stops me and her quiet plea makes my resolve falter. “Please, don’t leave us defenceless.”

The look on her face makes me waver but only ever so slightly. I have to keep her safe but first and foremost I need to need to protect my own well being. Now I have been unceremoniously dumped into a situation where I must choose between the two. Just by knowing about this - presumably - little rebellion is enough for someone like Umbridge to condemn me and by bringing me here they have already placed me in the firing line. It is irrelevant if that was their intention.

My eyes cast over the small crowd, all of them looking in my direction. Some waiting for me to snap and lose my temper, others for me to relent to Harry Potter’s will. I have little intention of doing either with so little information at my disposal. “I refuse to have this conversation with an audience.”

My expectant gaze meets the troubled green eyes of the boy of lived and I watch him make an agonising decision. His eyes narrow in my direction and I know before he even opens his mouth that he is still having trouble with it. “You’re willing to talk about this.” The parchment in his grasp flies with his gesture and rustles with the moment.

My initial response would have been a simple ‘No.’ There is no way I can put my name to paper, or leave behind any concrete evidence that might link me to this little group. If such a thing were to fall into the wrong hands I don’t even want to try and predict the consequences. “I’m willing to discuss the slim possibility of that.”

He shakes his head in frustration. “If this was just about me. I’d take you at your word.”

My eyes narrow in his direction. “Just like that?”

“I trust Hermione’s judgement in people.” He says this so easily, how can I possibly explain to him my true nature that I hide from the world. Even from myself, in a futile effort to become something better than a pawn, born and bread to stand at the side of his archenemy. “But them.” He points in the direction of the crowd still remaining quite, watching the events transpire. “You’ve got to give them something in faith.”

He’s right. I’ve seen every member’s face and without my signature upon that parchment nothing is stopping me from marching my way down to Umbridge’s office. Putting a name to every single one of them. Apart from the fact that I am almost certain she would name me as a co-conspirator that had simply gotten cold feet. Not something I wish to divulge, just encase I have any unknown enemies in this room, something that, at this time is a distinct possibility.

Closing my eyes I run my fingers across my forehead in thought, while simultaneously trying to push down the impending headache. Trying to come up with some way to appease those around me, while shrouding myself from all of this. At the presence of an idea my eyes snap open. “I wont give you a name. I can’t, I’m sorry.” My eyes then turn to Hermione, being the only person in attendance with the knowledge to answer my further queries. “I can however, give you a mark. Is that enough?”

She nods slowly, puzzling out the question and I can see her running through the wording she used for the hex on the parchment. “It would be enough to make it binding. Yes.”

“A mark?” Harry asks somewhat confused by this development.

Hermione steps forward, no longer having to physically place herself between myself and the doorway, to halt my departure. “A letter or even a symbol. If written by Jamie’s hand that would be enough.”

“That’s hardly fair.” A voice pipes up from somewhere in the crowd. A tall spotted boy takes centre strange and doesn’t look all too happy to be there. “We’ve all signed it.”

What is that boys name? I recognise him but only barely. “If you don’t like it you are welcome to share in my next draft of Wolf’s Bane.” I don’t relish the idea of drawing attention to my illness but it is a very important factor and it the only reason I will not be a named party in of any of this. “I assure you, it’s disgusting.”

The boy I cannot for the life of me put a name to lifts his lip at the suggestion, in a clear indication that becoming like me is not an idea he enjoys. After that he falls silent of the matter, dropping his gaze to the floor and by the looks of his movement, shuffling his feet in a feeble attempt to direct everyone’s attention elsewhere.

“He is right though.” Harry says, not looking comfortable with admitting it. Almost looking at a loss for what he should do next. “Maybe we could take a vote?”

I lift my lip in a smirk. What a very fair way for him to end the dispute. “How I do love democracy.” I am careful to keep my voice even, but Hermione’s foot pressing over my toes is a clear indication that she has sensed my sarcasm.

Harry however is completely oblivious. “Good.” He says with a smile, turning to the others. “Quick show of hands. All in favour of this… mark, whatever it may be.”

To my complete surprise many of the hands in the room go into the air, including Harry’s and Ginny’s. Looks like a may have to be part of this after all. I admit it would have been nice to have had a solid reason to turn my back on all of this an simply tutor Hermione and the other three in private.

“The ayes have it.” Harry says with a smile and after resting down his parchment holds out a quill for me to take.

After letting a small growl rumble through my chest I turn to the see of faces still looking expectantly at the three of us. If I am going to feel the High Inquisitor’s full wrath when this all comes tumbling down around their ears, I might as well have bloody well done something to deserve it. Before I can rethink it though and before I can have any time to talk myself out of it, I take the quill from his hand and quickly make my mark, after striking it through to finish I throw the feather down onto the desk and turn towards him expectantly.

He takes the page and blows on the ink, once he is sure that is it dry he rolls it up then quickly claps a hand to my shoulder. “Welcome to Dumbledore's army.”

“Well that's just peachy.” I say trying and failing to keep the irritated tone from my voice. Shrugging the contact from my shoulder and still concerned that I haven’t received any answers. “Now what in the name of all the Gods is Dumbledore's Army?”

I watch as Harry begins to search his mind for an appropriate way to answer and I can feel my patience beginning to wear thin.

It is Ginny that answers my question. “Harry is teaching us Defence Against the Dark Arts.” She ignores the few glares sent her way after her declaration.

“I try.” Harry says, showing no small amount of embarrassment. He clears his throat and levels his gaze at me. “So come on. What's the secret to wordless magic?” He says trying to step away from the limelight that follows wherever he goes.

I let my eyes slide closed and take a deep breath. Planning an escape route to the door, should anyone react adversely to my statement. After clenching my jaw I repeat my father's mantra for all to hear. “Persistence, perseverance, and patience.”

I open my eyes just as Harry's expression drops into despair. “That's it?” Discontent murmurs travel around the room. “Just practice?”

“I said you wouldn't like it.” I state turning to lean heavily along the tabletop. Pulling my arms up to cross over my chest, my wand still firmly held in my grasp and pointed safely towards the floor. The thick silence that falls over the group is deafening in its intensity. As if they all truly believed that I could simply hand them this skill on a silver platter.

A single voice raises above all others from the back of the room. “I said this was a waste of time.” Shouts of protests can be heard as one boy pushes his way to the fount of the group. “I told you.” He directs his angry tone towards Harry, who in turn appears to be trying to make himself as small as possible. “But you wouldn't listen. No point putting your trust in a...” His comment stops short as he rounds his gaze on me, a sneer pulling at his upper lip and I begin to feel rage curling in my chest. This close to a full moon I would think it unwise to test my patience in such a way.

Without thought I feel a growl rumbling along my throat to lace dangerously through my words. “Trust a what?”

Hermione begins to step closer to me, presumably to restrain me if necessary. Though I highly doubt that if it came to such an entanglement she would walk away unscathed.

The look of contempt does not leave his face as his back straightens, drawing him to his full height. He stands at least two inches shorter than me and the sight does not give him the intimidating air that I am certain he was trying to establish. “Should never trust a Slytherin.”

He says this with so much malice and passion that I cannot help but take him seriously. Of all the things he could have picked fault with, the colour of my tie was not something I had even considered as to cause such an adverse reaction. My rage melts instantly. Replaced by mild amusement.

“I'm a half-breed.” I say, trying to distance myself from the word even as it spills from my lips. “Yet it is my house that offends you.”

Quickly he shrugs. “I've met an honest werewolf. Never met an honest Slytherin.”

The smile that pulls across my face and the snort of laughter are completely irrepressible and involuntary. “Neither have I.” I find it strange that I am almost enjoying his negative attitude towards me. He may dislike me but he disfavours me because of who I am. Not because of what I am. I had almost forgotten the difference. In an instant I decide that I have to be part of this group. If only to feel a little more human.

Resting my wand down onto the tabletop I bring my hands to my throat. Marginally amused when several of this gathered force tense and gasp at the sudden movement. Without ceremony I loosen my tie and pull it free, stuffing it in my pocket without care for its condition. “Does this make you feel better?”

His feet scuff along the stone floor and the crease along his forehead tells me he had not expected such an action. Without a satisfactory retort the ridged stiffness of his back begins to lessen. “It's a start. I suppose.” Not wanting me to keep the upper hand in the confrontation he feels the need to continue. “I still don't think you can teach me anything.”

“What's your name?” I ask, ignoring his boast.

“Michael Corner.” He answers, casting a glance in Ginny's direction, only to be met with a roll of her eyes.

I observe the interaction but do not draw attention to it, filing it away in my mind to ask either Ginny or Hermione about it at a later date. “Would you care to duel with me Michael Corner?” Tactically I should not even entertain the idea of a duel with someone I have only just met. Not until I have had the opportunity to observe their style and skills. This evening however, I have a deep burning desire to prove myself to this boy. All of my training is screaming at me not to let him bait me into a fight but on this rare occasion, instinct wins over education and I find myself almost daring him to accept my challenge.

Indecision crosses his face. I can almost see the thought processes running through the cogs in his head. He doesn’t hesitate for long as soon as his peers begin to speak in hushed whispers amongst themselves. “Alright. You’re on.”

A ripple of some unknown and pleasant emotion slithers across my shoulders and the muscles twitch under the sensation. “Excellent.” I throw my robe from off my back; draping it over the table I had been leaning against and after taking my wand between my teeth I unbutton the cuffs of my shirt, methodically rolling up the sleeves.

After I have prepared myself I grasp my wand loosely between my fingers and take a customary bow. Pausing to wait for him to make the first strike so I am able to better gauge his ability, it would not do to show all that I am capable of if it were not necessary. Especially when I am so determined to best him in this duel.

He takes his queue, as expected and with a long swooping motion of his wand effectively broadcasting his intentions to me in the process he casts his spell. “Expelliarmus!”

With such a long gesture with his wand, he not only indicates his intended spell but also the vague area he is targeting. Making a snap decision I chose to simply pull one foot back behind the other pulling my body sideways and let the spell pass by me harmlessly. The spell itself was strong, too strong in fact to simply disarm me.

The long, drawn out motion of his wand forces him to recover before beginning a new spell, leaving me with sufficient opening to assess the situation. His stance unlike mine is wide, designed to be imposing, also providing a much bigger target to be hit. I wait patiently for him to correct his posture. His movements indicating another disarming spell and now lacking the manoeuvrability to reduce his target it will be much more difficult to dodge the spell, already I decide to deflect this oncoming charm and plant my feet to steady myself.

I see the placement of his charm just as it begins to leave his lips, my wrist jerks and wordlessly I produce an enchantment at the same instant he does, the two spells clash in the space between us and fizzle into nothing. The movement of my wand naturally follows from one spell choice to the next and I conjure the red jet of light for the stunning charm that sends him flying backwards through the air.

He lands loudly on the floor, grunting his displeasure at being knocked off his feet. One younger boy leaves the group to help him to his feet.

Harry is swiftly at my side, looking first to me then at the fallen boy across the room and back again. “How did you do that?”

Lowering my wand and letting my focus drain away now that the contest is complete but keeping my eyes on my opponent I answer. “Stunning charm.”

“I know that.” He says. “How did you do it so fast?”

Not being totally certain how to explain the movement after so many years of endless practice, it is as natural as breathing; I go for the easy answer. “Position.” Michael draws himself to his feet waving off the helping hand of his classmate and respectfully nods his head in my direction.

“Alright.” Harry says slowly drawing my attention back around to him. “You're going to elaborate on that and I’m going to ban you from using any words beginning with 'P'.”

The small smile on his face gives me the distinct feeling that the humour he is trying to use is completely lost on me. “The...” I grit my teeth, biting back the word 'placement' as I do so, rethinking the wording of my explanation. “Wand movements are important. One spell should flow into another in rapid succession.”

His eyes search mine for a few long moments. Then he says, “Teach me.”

---~~~000~~~---

After two long, gruelling hours trying to describe the methods used to fire spells in quick succession to a group of thirty Harry calls an end to the meeting. Though only after Hermione pointed out the tired looks on most of the younger students faces. He has a passion for leaning I had not expected after observing him through the lessons we take together. Although I must remember that boys will be boys. They will always be interested in fighting.

Many of the junior students swiftly left to return to their respective dormitories for some well-deserved rest. Very few pupils remained, leaving me little opportunity to slip away undetected.

An uncomfortable feeling of unrest is beginning to settle over my chest. Something I immediately associate to the days directly preceding the last full moon and I would rather not be in the company of so many strangers under its influence.

So after exchanging a few quiet words with Hermione and declining her offer to once again spend the night in her bed I leave the strange room. Taking time to watch the large doorway melt into the wall behind me before turning and steadily making my way down to the ground floor and away from prying eyes.

After reaching my room relatively unhindered and once again reminding myself to fix the damaged door to my chamber, I take a seat at the small old writing desk. Rejecting the idea of sleep the moment it enters my mind. All I wish to do in this moment is pace, though I do not have the space to do so.

Beginning to regret declining the offer to stay another night in Hermione's quarters, knowing now that I would have enough space to attempt to walk off my frustrations; however at the time I could not bring myself to subject her to my unease. Now all I wish is for her to help quench it. There is insufficient time to make it to the safety of the north tower before I could be caught wandering the castle after hours and I am unwilling to test the limits of Umbridge's patience to close to her discovery of my condition.

Without the area to freely move around I feel my muscles slowly beginning to bunch under my skin in sheer frustration as images race through my mind and nerves begin to clamber up my throat at just the thought of the fate that awaits me tomorrow night.

Admittedly the only transformation I have endured thus far had hazed in my memory over the last weeks. Leaving behind only the memory of the pain and my muscles tensing to such a degree that my limbs became immobile. On many levels I am glad of that fact, not wishing to relive in detail, one of the most agonizing and confusing moments of my life, each night when I close my eyes. However right at this moment what causes my nervous state is not knowing. Not remembering the intricate details so I am able adequately to prepare myself for them.

I lean back heavily the in rickety wooden chair, forcing myself to ignore its worrying creak and the shifting wood of the backrest with the movement. Already knowing that I am thinking myself in circles, that are getting me nowhere. It will not do to dwell on tomorrow night. The whole event is locked deep within my very skin and there is no escaping it.

Casting my eyes over the piles of books littering my desk I swiftly decide that an appropriate distraction will be to clear them away, having had the intention to tidy the small space for days. I set to work at my mundane task, taking the time to read the spines of the books in my collection. I only stop when I come across the small leather bound pages gifted to me by the potions master only two weeks ago.

On that day I had simply thrown it among the other books in the tiny room and forgot about its existence. I had never been one to keep a journal; the thought of my personal musings filling the pages of a worthless book for any literate person to intrude upon unsettled me to no small extent.

I think about simply discarding it into the bottom of my trunk to once again be forgotten about it but something stops me. The spark of a thought igniting in my mind. I distinctly remember Snape telling me that the simple action of putting my thoughts down on paper might alleviate the tension my current situation provokes. Knowing that I would give almost anything in this moment for a small degree of calm my eyes stay transfixed on the supple brown leather as if it could hold the answer to my current problems.

My nimble fingers pull against the clasp holding the book shut and slowly I leaf through the blank pages, seriously considering filling them with my most personal thoughts. I had always been weary of another finding and using a journal against me. Though right here and now I cannot see any reason as to why anyone would bother. Those that I would fear rebuttal from no longer hold any interest for me and do not have access to any part of my life. Those that would have access to the pages have never given me cause to believe that they would use any information gathered against me. So I see little reason to resist the temptation rising from the pit of my belly to gather a bottle of ink and a quill.

Finally I come to the starting page and place the open book on my desk, pushing against the spine lightly so its own weight may hold it open. My fingertips glide over the rough parchment in indecision, now more fearful of what I may learn of myself then what others will think if they were to ever read it.

I only realize that I have made the decision when I pull the cork from a new ink bottle and rest it against the ageing wood, my quill landing in the liquid a moment later.

Once the nib is filled with ink I bring it back to the blank pages and find myself at a loss of where to begin. When did all of this start? It certainly did not start on that day a month ago in the castle dungeons, that was merely the moment when I recognized the disease I now carry.

So many events lead up to my excursion to the Forbidden Forest that I barely contemplate beginning there.

After a few moments I grit my teeth, pinpointing the exact moment, the priciest action that started the chain of events that have drastically changed the direction of my life.

With my mind made up my quill touches the parchment and I begin to pour all of the emotions I had not realized I had been hiding even from myself onto the waiting pages.

'Dragging my feet through the tall uncut, dew covered grass allowing my jeans to drag and gather moisture. Uncaring as my ankles feel the cold liquid gather along, the material becoming heavy and clinging to my shins, I make my way along the field...'
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By The Light