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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
- 15
- 16
- 17
A/N Look at it look what I did! This one was so easy, I sat down at it just flowed out of me. So to be honest I may have missed some mistakes. I was on a roll I couldn’t stop it. I’m sorry. Anyway… Somehow I’ve managed to explain away a few things, have a fight and kind of fill you in on the past few months. I’m proud of myself I can’t help it. So Enjoy! Please, then press little blue wrighting at the bottom and tell me what you think!

Chapter 16

November gives way to December and eventually, end of term. Many of my fellow students left the school for the holiday, including the golden trio. Plans had been made long before I had come into the picture to return to London and even though I had been invited, the cycle of the moon had prevented me from leaving the castle.

My transformation had been a growing form of discomfort to me, for two months running now Wolf’s Bane has had absolutely no effect on me under the glare of the full moon. Snape is unwilling to up the dose due to the strength of the potion; he still fears that the effect may still pass into my human form, even if it has little effect on the rabid beast inside of me. I do not share his concerns.

In my opinion if the potion has no effect on me at all, then even an extra dose will still have little effect. So a change of tactic is in order and over the past week I have thrown myself into research for brewing potions that may provide some aid, for much of my solitude over the past two weeks. Before the discovery of Wolf’s Bane there were other, possibly useless and potentially more dangerous methods of forcing the wolf into submission.

This is the reason I stand in the entrance hall now. Watching my classmates enter, chattering amongst themselves. With my arms crossed, jaw clenched and eyes scanning each face as they enter, I am paid little attention, save for the sneers sent my way from much of Slytherin house.

“Hey Jamie.” I don’t have to look round to recognize the cheery voice of Ginny Wesley. “Have a good Christmas?” She asks, one of the few unhindered by my ridged back and darting eyes.

“Fine.” I answer vaguely only half listening to the red head, keeping my attention on the passing students.

Instead of leaving, as I would have preferred, she stands at my side. Glancing over to copy my stance she continues the conversation as if I were an active participant. “That good huh?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes and bite back a venomous remark. I would have much preferred if I have been left alone until my business has concluded. As it stands, for the sake of manners, I must enter into a conversation. Dividing my attention from the mass of students and possibly losing my quarry in the process. “Christmas is just like every other day.” I answer honestly, the yuletide celebration having never been recognized in my house.

“Scrooge.” She answers quickly and I have to turn my gaze towards her to find out if she is insulting me or not. “What?” She asks under a few moments of my scrutiny.

“I don’t understand the reference.” My voice is clipped in a show of irritation but it does little to deter the younger girl.

Her whole face scrunches in confusion. “Ebenezer Scrooge?” At my blank expression she continues to try and clarify. “A Christmas Carol?”

I sigh at her, almost understanding what she is going on about, so turn my gaze back to the crowd. “Christianity is not my religion, so why would I celebrate your holidays?”

“You have to be Christian to get presents?”

“I think you may be missing the point.” I say, spying my prey across the hall and after turning and giving the redhead a hurried “Excuse me.” I begin to weave my way through the crowd of students. Several people try to unsuccessfully gain my attention as I pass them by. I cannot allow myself to miss this opportunity.

Quickly I reach my destination just as Blaise Zabini’s catches sight of me, only for the joyous expression on his face to drop like a stone. He politely smiles to Millicent Bulstrode and removes himself from their conversation so he is free to stand before me. “I just got back. Can we do this later?”

Without pause I let my arms cross over my chest in a defensive posture. “No.” The public setting for this exchange suits me just fine. No one will pay us enough mind to question me about this later and I am unlikely to be attacked when there are so many around to witness it. “Did you get it?” The look that crosses Zabini’s face is enough to convince me that any form of chit chat preceding the inevitable exchange will not be worth the effort. So forgoing all pleasantries I forge ahead.

His lip lifts in a sneer. “It wasn’t easy to get, Half-breed.”

My eye twitches slightly at his words but I do not react further to the obvious bait. “Well?”

His deep brown eyes scan the faces of those around us and then he opens the satchel at his side, reaching in and holding out a small parcel warped in brown paper to me.

I take the small package and pull at the twine to check the contents. Blaise moves from one foot to the other to show his impatience and I fully unwrap my prize, letting a satisfied smile spread across my face when I see five black pellets, no bigger than peas rolling around in my open palm. Blaise clearing his throat pulls me from my observations and I tie the small parcel back up and push it deeply into my pocket. “We’re even now.” He says, trying to take control of the conversation before moving to step around me.

My grip on his upper arm must border on painful because his shoots his gaze in my direction but remains silent. “I say when we’re even.”

He tries to inconspicuously remove himself from my grasp, causing me to tighten my grip on his arm. “Don’t threaten me Desay.”

I lift my eyebrow at him, quietly amused that his fear in this situation prevents him from calling me a ‘Halfbreed’. This is information I file away for later use and I pull him closer to me using my superior height to intimidate him. “I say when we’re even. Or I could start shouting the details of your most recent step-father’s death from the rooftops.”

The fire in his eyes is undeniable and if I did not possess this nugget of information I would cower beneath the furious gaze of this talented wizard. As it stands I am in a position of power over him and intend to use it to the fullest degree.

In Slytherin house there are many rules of etiquette that we live by, which are considered unconventional at best to any that do not participate in it. On our first night at Hogwarts, under the stare of a Secrecy Sensor to make sure no lies are told, we are encouraged to divulge the nastier of secrets to our housemates. This does two things, firstly forces you to build a bond of trust with those around you, so that they know your secrets and you know theirs. If one secret is spilled so are all the others. Secondly, those with the worst horror stories are usually granted a higher degree of respect within the house.

The moment my father expelled me from the family all of the secrets told on that night became null and void. I have very little reason to care if anyone were to run to an Auror and tell them what my father has been up to. If he is taken to Azkaban it will have very little effect upon me. This has left me in this very unique situation where by the members of Slytherin house may very well wish to kill me and then skin me for my hide, which is why I refuse to be in any of their presence when not surrounded by the rest of the student body. However beyond physical pain they are unable to threaten me. All of their secrets are still valid and will cause them genuine suffering, all of which are still locked tightly away in my mind. Giving me leverage over many of them. Even the word of a werewolf can be detrimental to the reputation of a pure blood house.

“What’ll it be Zabini?” I ask, almost daring him to defy me.

His gaze drops from mine to hide his rage. “Fine.” Is all he says, before pulling his limb free from my grasp and moving on his way.

I cannot help but smile at his retreating back, making a mental note to use someone else next time I need to acquire anything from outside of Hogwarts. There are others I can threaten and manipulate; it would be foolish to drive the boy to anything drastic by repeatedly using him to do my dirty work.

“Jamie.” My gaze swivels around once more to look upon the concerned features of Harry Potter and the smile of satisfaction quickly turns to one of pure joy. “How ya been?”

His drops his rucksack to the floor and throws his arms around my shoulders. At the action I feel my breathing stop and my back stiffen from the unusual display of affection. I had slowly started to become accustomed to the abundance of physical contact between this group of friends but after a fortnight of solitude I had started to slip back into my old customs of keeping people out of my personal space. “Fine.” I reply through gritted teeth and his hands land on each of my arms to push me back so he can look at me.

His eyebrows dip behind his glasses as he takes in my appearance, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.” I answer shortly stepping backwards and out of his grip just as I catch sight of the brown bushy hair of Hermione. She runs her hand along my hip so she can position her shoulder under my arm and reaches up on her tiptoes so she can place a chase kiss on my cheek. I am only marginally surprised that her physical contact does not provoke such a strongly adverse response as Harry’s had.

“Hey.” Ron’s loud voice breaks the small mood that has settled over the two of us. “How’s the Big Bad Wolf?”

The big smile on his face stops me from being angry at his comment but I still feel the need to stop such a nickname before it can catch on. “I’m not sure whether or not to be offended by that.”

The look of sincerity that crosses his face is only disrupted by his grin. “Aww, please don’t.” He then lowers his voice to a loud whisper that can be heard by all of us and leans forwards. “Hermione would kill me.”

Her hand is then immediately in my line of sight to backhand him across the shoulder. “Ronald!”

The smile never leaves his face as he begins to rub his injured shoulder. “It’s not my fault it’s true.”

“You three are in remarkably good cheer, considering you’re coming back to school.” I comment looking between them.

Harry shrugs reaching to the floor for his backpack. “It’s Christmas.”

Now I’m more confused than ever. “I was under the impression that was a single day.”

“It is.” Is Hermione’s quiet response as she begins to walk towards the great hall, pulling me along with her. “Ron likes presents; the cheer tends to last a little longer.”

“I see.” I say, not really comprehending. “These Christmas present must be powerful things.”

Ron points a finger at me. “You’re just being a Scrooge.” He says, adopting the voice of a three year old.

That’s it. I’ve had enough of being out of the loop. “What is the Scrooge thing?”

All three friends look at each other for a few moments and we separate to be able to walk along the Gryffindor table on either side, until we find four available seats. Begrudgingly I let Hermione extract herself from our small embrace so she can take a seat. Then slowly lower myself next to her.

Ron is already leaning across the table with rapt attention. “You don’t know who Scrooge is?”

I sigh again. At some point someone will explain this to me. “It’s a Christmas story. Correct?” I ask from my assumptions based on what Ginny said earlier. Ron nods vigorously. “My family does not celebrate Christmas. So I would never have heard the story.”

Ron’s mouth opens so wide that I am surprised not to hear a hollow ‘thunk’ as it hits off the tabletop. “What?” He finally manages to ask.

“You’re not a Christian.” Hermione says, as always the first to pick up on the more subtle details. “That’s why you say ‘By the Gods’ instead of ‘Thank God.’”

“Precisely.” I say, suddenly finding my empty goblet to be immensely interesting as I pick it up to examine the inside. My beliefs aren’t something that I usually discuss. Mostly because any answer I give will raise more questions that they potentially answer.

Hermione makes a sound in the back of her throat as she mulls over this new piece of information. “Well, at least that’s one mystery solved.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Ron says, having found his voice. “When do we get to the part about no Christmas?”

Harry rolls his eyes and completely ignores his friend. “So what exactly are you?”

My eyes travel to each set staring back at me, suddenly uncomfortable at being the centre of attention. “My Mother described it as Pseudo-Apollodorus. Their no other modern translation and the real words were lost to history.” At their confused look I clear my throat and continue, hoping we might be able to move onto another topic soon. “I think it’s quite popular in muggle culture. The most well-known gods being Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon.”

Understanding colours Harry’s face and he clicks his fingers in recognition. “Ancient Greek Mythology. We covered that in primary school.”

“That’s a very…” Hermione stops, choosing his words carefully. “Unorthodox belief system.”

“You mean strange.” I say the word she had been trying to avoid as to not offend me. “I suppose it is. You can trace my Mother’s linage all the way back to the storming of Troy. My family just never forgot. Passed from one generation to the next.” I lapse into a happy silence for a moment. Remembering the tales my Mother would weave for her children’s amusement. Always teaching us of the Gods and Titans through our entertainment. I miss her terribly, though I could never say such a thing out loud. I shake the images from my mind, hoping that my emotions had not shown on my face. “Enough about me. How was your holiday?”

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After a feast fit for a king, I escort the three Gryffindor’s up to the north tower, more out of fear that Ron might keel over at any moment, judging from the amount of turkey and sprouts he managed to cram into his thin, lanky frame.

Ron’s door is the first we reach and with a sleepy. “Night.” He shuts us out in the hallway.

“Is he going to be okay?” I ask the two remaining friends. A little worried that he might just explode.

“Yeah.” It’s Harry that finally answers, still with a weary look at Ron’s door. “He just needs to sleep it off.” He turns on Hermione and me just as she slips her hand along my palm to grasp at my fingers. I watch as Harry smiles at the gesture. “I think I can find my way back from here.” He takes a step back, his eyes dancing with amusement. “You two… urm. You have a good night.” He turns on his heel and without looking back disappears around a corner and out of sight.

I blink back my confusion and after Hermione gently tugs on my hand I turn and fall into step at her side. “I have no idea what that was about.” I admit aloud, almost fearful of the boys very strange behaviour.

“He’s giving us some privacy.” Hermione’s voice is laced with promise as she speaks.

“Oh.” I say, wondering when I was going to be clued in on her plans for this evening. “Does he know something I don’t?”

“Only that I missed you.” We come to a stop at her door and she turns on me, her free hand running across the skin of my cheek to guide me down so my lips can meet hers. She pulls back ever so slightly and as she whispers to me her breath cascades sensuously over my skin. “Stay with me tonight.”

With my eyes still closed I whimper at her request. “I would love nothing more than that.”

She steps backwards and completely removes any contact from me. “I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming.”

I open my eyes to be met with her hurt expression. “I… I have something to attend to.”

She averts her gaze from me and I suddenly feel the odd sensation of guilt striking me in the chest. “Is there any point asking what it is?”

“Probably not.” I answer honestly, knowing now I shouldn’t have said anything and just risk the potion brewing in my quarters over cooking.

“What have you gotten yourself into?” Her voice grows stern as her fists land on her hips.

If she had thought that a little sternness would have me spilling my secrets I’m afraid she is about to be sorely mistaken. “Nothing dangerous.” I had chosen the least dangerous formula from the list for the first try, it is also the one least likely to work judging by the ingredients in it but it would be foolish not to start at the bottom and work my way up to the more dangerous potions. “Look.” I take a step forward and run my hands along her upper arm in an attempt to pacify her. “I should only be an hour, if that. I’d like to come back if you’ll have me.”

“Will you tell me what you’re doing?”

“No.” She doesn’t like my answer, the look on her face tells me as much. “Please don’t be upset.”

“Something is this important to you and you’re hiding it from me. How do you want me to feel?” I can feel my resistance beginning to crumble, unsure as to why. “One of these days, I’m sure. You’re going to let me in. Let me know what you’re thinking when you disappear into that world of yours.”

“When that happens,” I can feel insecurity rising up my throat and have to fight my natural reaction to fall silent. I do permit myself a breath and move my gaze to the floor. “What if you don’t like who you see?”

“It hasn’t so far.” She says opening her arms then dropping them in defeat. “Why does that have you so scared?”

I take a step back, the turn in conversation frustrating me as my tongue feels like a dead weight in my mouth and I have very few ways at my disposal to put my point across without frightening my girlfriend. “Malfoy once called me evil.” She nods in recognition of the event. “You’ve never asked me about that. Not once.”

“He was wrong.” She says this with such convocation that I have to ask myself who she has been spending so much time with. It certainly cannot be the person staring back at me in the mirror every morning.

“How do you know?” I ask, all of a sudden words pressing against the back of my throat and I can’t stop them. Angry at my own actions and emotions, fuelling my words, driving them through the natural barrier of my lips, out into the open air where they can do the most damage. “How can you possibly know that? You said yourself I don’t let you in.” She shakes her head, clearly as surprised as I am with the turn in discussion. “He said that because you’re a werewolf…”

Quickly I cut off her sentence. “No he didn’t. He said that because I’m me. He said that because I could have killed him, would have killed him. It would have been so slow; he would have screamed and begged for his life.” Her gaze drops and I don’t remember when I started looking at her, I drop my stance so I can invade her vision. “Is this too much for you?” I say in a mocking tone.

She steps back retreating from me and I close my eyes to push back the burning tears within them. Now I know I’ve said too much. I grit my teeth so tightly it borders on painful, closing the lid on any more truths that might spill forth.

In an instant her eyes are on me, scrutinizing me. “You’re deflecting.”

“What?” I ask, almost getting lost with the rapid subject change.

“What ever you’re doing tonight, you think it’s worse than killing Malfoy.”

I give a snort of humourless laughter; I hadn’t even realized what I was doing. It just came so naturally. “There are many of things worse than killing Malfoy.” Now I’m doing it again. Old habits certainly do die-hard.

“Jamie.” Her voice is pleading and I know I’m going to crumble under its weight. “What are you hiding?”

For a few moments we just stand in the hallway and stare at each other. Time ticking by as I make a decision. “Come with me.” I say. Making my way along the hallway at a fast pace, down the steps to the ground floor before I can change my mind. Hermione has to jog a few steps every so often to keep up with me and before I know what I’m doing I’m at my door, my shoulder pressed against the withered wood as I whisper. “luna sanguinem riseing.” A quick jab against the door and it opens into my room and I step back so she can enter before me.

I step in behind her and, having still not fixed the bloody thing, have to lift the door back into its frame to close it.

Hermione is forced to take a seat on my bed due to lack of space and I turn to my desk, which presently is looking more like an apothecary table than a writing desk. I have my cauldron set up and a low flame burning steady below it, bringing the mixture inside to a low simmer. A book propped up against the far wall open to the potion I am attempting to brew and jars of ingredients lined up alongside it.

Silently I reach deep into my pocket a pull out the Vulgrim eggs that Blaise gave to me earlier, resting them against the wooden surface before pulling out my chair and turning it so I can take a seat and still watch Hermione’s reaction.

“Potion brewing?” She asks and the tone of her voice tells me how confused she is. “That’s the big secret?”

I haven’t given her all of the pieces of the puzzle but yet I still expect her to understand. “Why would I brew a potion?” I ask.

She shrugs in response. “Extra credit?”

I take a deep breath, working up the courage to tell her. Before now I hadn’t dared bring it up. Couldn’t face it myself let alone see the fear in her eyes every day. I lean forward in my chair pulling on one of the small draws under the desk and pushing the contents around, looking for that one slip of glossy paper I know to be inside. My fingers close around it and I freeze. I know that I am unable to back out now but I can’t shake the feeling that this is not the right thing to do.

I pull the small photograph from the draw and take a moment to cast my eyes over it. In the past week I have spent many hours just staring at it, memorizing it. It’s a picture of me. Under the full moon. Snape managed to take it before I broke through those barred doors for a second time and gave it to me the following morning.

All those pictures in the textbooks bear no resemblance to what I see on that small sheet. In the books the beasts are pulled up onto their hind legs. You can still see their human side even through the wolfish features. This picture shows me much more comfortable on all fours. All trace of humanity washed away under the moons rays. You can see me snarling and barking towards the camera, no sound comes from the picture and I don’t want to imagine the terrifying noises that I must have been making when it was taken.

Turning it in my grasp I hand it to Hermione and watch as her eyebrows fall to hood over her eyes. “Is this you?” I nod at her and she draws her eyes across the page. “You look more like a wolf than Lupin did.”

“Yeah.” I start leaning back in my seat and pulling my gaze to the moss-covered wall. “Snape can’t figure that one out. Nor why I’m that lively on a full draft of Wolf’s Bane.”

I can feel her eyes on me and I can’t bring myself to look at the expression on her face. “So you’re brewing something else?” She concludes. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Not this potion.” I say quickly. “There are others that are.”

“Does Snape know about this?”

Another one of these humourless laughs and her persistent questions give me the courage to look in her direction. “Who do you think gave me the book? Only Wolf’s Bane is approved for people with my condition. He can’t brew anything else without raising suspicion. Umbridge already checks his stock cupboards each week. He needs to explain everything that gets used so I can only use ingredients that are used in his lesson plans. Most of the things for this I’ve needed to get from elsewhere.” I indicate the quietly bubbling potion.

“So…” She stops shaking her head, trying to get her mind around the elaborate deception. “Snape is brewing Wolf’s Bane and then not giving it to you.”

“Oh he’s giving me the drafts, I’m just not drinking it.” The confused expression still hasn’t left her face. “Wolf’s Bane is made in two drafts, when sold together they go for fifty Galleons.”

”Fifty?” She cuts me off with her surprise.

“I’ve seen the recipe, it’s worth way more.” For some reason she hasn’t fled from the room in terror and it’s giving me the confidence to confide in her. “I sell the potion, discreetly. Then I have the money for other ingredients.”

“That’s… very clever.” She says handing me back the photograph. “So Snape trusts you to brew these potions?”

“He has to. Legally Umbridge can’t search my room without cause. Even if she gives me a shack in the Forbidden Forest, she can’t enter.” I take one long look at the picture and rest it on the desk before wringing my hands nervously. “You’re not running.” I say and have to physically restrain myself from slapping my palm against my own forehead at my own stupidity.

She looks dazed for a moment then brings her eyes into focus. “Why would I?” She asks in such an innocent way that my heart begins to hammer in my chest. Why isn’t she frightened?

“I’m an untameable, vicious beast.”

“One night of the month.” She continues for me.

“One long night.” I counter. “So far I’ve broken two steel barred doors. What if I get out? Do you really think I’m going to be safe and cuddly when I’m outside of the cage?” I look over at her to find her with this expression of amusement. “What?” I ask.

She shrugs apparently coming to terms very quickly with the uniqueness of my condition. “Sarcasm looks good on you.” She clears her throat and draws the conversation back on track. “Not long ago you were telling me about how much you wanted to kill Malfoy, now you’re worried about something that is beyond your control.”

I knew that was going to come around and bite me in the arse. “Malfoy was hurting you. It makes me want to hurt him.”

Somehow that sentence pulls a smile across her face. “I think that may be one of the most disturbing and sweetest things you’ve ever said to me.” She shakes her head at me the throws a pointed look at the cauldron on my desk. “How much attention does that potion need?”

I clear my throat. I reach for a single egg and slice it in half with a scalpel, then drop one half into the mixture. I take the time to turn the heat down still further then lean back in my seat. “Done.”

“Really?” She asks me one eyebrow raised. “We really argued about that?”

“Almost seems silly now.”

She nods. “I think most arguments do in hindsight.” She stands from her perch on my tiny bed and holds her hand out to me. “Now, can we go upstairs and make up properly?”

The playfulness in her tone draws me in and I feel my mood lightening significantly. “Why Miss Granger, I think you might be seducing me.”

“That does depend on if you let me.”

The grin I pull across my face lights up the entire of my insides, “Oh, everyday.” I say putting my hand in hers and allowing her to lead me to her private quarters.
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By The Light

Chapter 16