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
- 17
- 18
- 19
A/N Phew, now that was difficult. Don’t know why considering I’ve had this in my head for so long. Anyway I’m really, really sorry this took so long. Kinda hope it was worth the wait.

Chapter 18

The steady pulsing beneath my two fingers, along with the steady drumming against my ears quickly gains momentum. The scent of what I can only describe as fear hits my nose an instant later. The change in sensations has my eyes twitching skywards, threatening to roll them up in their sockets and throw my body once again into turmoil. Desperately I move my hand against her skin and cup the side of her neck in my palm, stroking my thumb against any inch of flesh it can reach, in a bid to calm her racing heart.

“What exactly does that mean?” Ginny asks, finally lowering her voice to an urgent whisper.

Hermione’s eyes lose focus and dart around in their sockets for a few moments. Her forehead creasing as she rapidly disregards each idea. Thoughts whizzing around in her head at such pace that we would have trouble keeping up. “It means you should go to the hospital wing.” She finally says, her voice hitching and for the first time I see Hermione Granger at a loss. Not a single nugget of information in her vast knowledge to apply to this situation.

I shake my head, immediately regretting the movement when a wave of nausea hits me like an unrelenting tsunami. “No.” I manage to choke out. Sliding my eyes closed and once again pressing my palm against my throbbing temple.

“You’re in pain.”

“No.” I say, raising my voice so it sounds firm, hating the way that it presses against my eardrums and makes me flinch away from it.

Hermione releases a frustrated breath and removes her hands from my skin, pressing her fingers into her eyes. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?” She sighs again and through the slits in my eyes I can see her jaw working beneath her skin as she thinks of the best course of action. Dropping her hands into her lap she gives me a long disapproving look. “Do you really think Umbridge would use something like this against you?”

My lips curl ever so slightly. For all my time in the library researching my condition, reading eye witness accounts of the transformation and hunting out the precious few accounts of actual werewolves I have never come across even a passing mention of heightened senses being present in any cases, nor ever having the ability of communicating in any way with the primal part of their being. To the best of my knowledge this event is unprecedented. Forcing me to once again admit to myself the uniqueness of my disease, every new aspect I discover raising more questions than is feasible to answer. All of them can be appraised in such a light and deem me a danger to those around me, any sensible minister wouldn’t think twice about removing me from society and I have to admit that I would be unable to blame them for the decision. If this sort of knowledge if it were to fall into the hands of someone so prejudice as Dolorous Umbridge, I would be unwilling too guess at the repercussions I would face. “Yes.” My voice lowers once again to a whisper.

“Okay.” She says dropping in a state of deep concentration. Her eyes close in a show of defeat for just a moment before she turns her gaze behind her. “Harry. We’re going to need your map.”

I hear his footsteps seconds before his voice reaches my ears. “No problem.”

“You want to move her?” Ron says his cautious footsteps bring him closer to me. “Is that a good idea?”

“If you have anything better Ron. I’m all ears.” Hermione says turning desperate eyes to her friend. At the slow shake of his head she turns back to me. “Is it still too loud?”

It’s not just too loud, it’s too bright, the smells hitting my nostrils and tongue too invasive and numerous. So much information is hitting my senses all at once, making my brain feel like it is swelling inside my skull. I only permit myself to nod at her, not ready to voice to the fullest extent, exactly what I am going through in this moment.
”Alright, I’m going to try something.” I hear her robes rustle and the sound of her grip adjusting on her wand has my eyes opening on impulse, eyeing the weapon with suspicion. “Trust me.” She says, her fingers loosening on the shaft of her wand in a nervous gesture, giving me even less confidence in whatever she might have planned. After taking a deep breath she points the tip right between my eyes and softly whispers. “Muffliato.”

For a moment the noises dim the pounding against my eardrums dip to a dull thump, the brightness dims to an almost bearable level as I blink away the lasting effect from my vision. I let myself think that such a simple spell may have worked, my lips beginning to lift in a small smile of relief. Just at the moment that I open my mouth to inform her of the spells effect, white-hot, scolding pain shoots through my skull with such ferocity that my hands dart up to protect my head, pushing against it as it threatens to explode. Steaks of blinding light run across my vision and even when I clamp my eyelids closed it still dances around amongst the darkness. Without my consent my mouth falls open and agonising screams are ripped from my throat at such a volume that the sound presses against my senses, pushing its way into my consciences so it vibrates around inside my skull adding yet more sensation to this torture my own body is inflicting. With my hearing retuning to it’s newly amplified volume I know my own cries are a large part of the pain that my nails are trying desperately to claw from my skull but yet I cannot stop them. The agony I feel unable to be suffered in silence and must be cried out into the hollow room to relive the unmanageable pressure behind my eyes.

My feet push against the wooden floor, scraping against it, pushing my back along it’s surface and trying to physically distance myself from the unbearable torture inside my head. My muscles twisting and turning my body in all directions is a vain attempt to find some position that will alleviate the feeling inside of me.

“Hate to say it Hermione!” Ginny has raised her voice to be heard over my shrieks of pain. “But she’s screaming now!”

A hand grips my elbow in an attempt to still my movement and the desperate shout of “Finite Incantate!” can be heard, it echoes around the empty room hitting my ears more than once and the pain instantly recedes to a dull throb behind my eyes.

My body lands on the floor with a bang, every limb, every muscle shaking violently, tears leaking from my eyes and my lower lip pulled between my teeth to keep any further shouts of anguish in check, though nothing can halt the pitiful whimpers rising from the depths of my chest, my nails still digging painfully into my scalp to provide some small distraction against what is happening within my very skin.

Hermione’s wand clatters onto the floor and her hands cover mine. Pulling at my fingertips so I can do myself no further damage, her voice shaking with the threat of tears as the repeats in a strangled whisper “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Over and over again, the tangy sent of salt hits the open air as her tears begin to fall down her cheeks. “I wont do that again.”

I want to tell her she had no way of knowing what would happen. That to chose such a simple and harmless spell was the most logical cause of action. That none of this is her fault. Yet all I am able to do is lie here, shaking with my suffering and trying to stave off another seizure my improved senses keep threatening to provoke.

Outside I hear pacing footsteps before the door opens, now in the calmer atmosphere around me I notice an additional sent wafting up my nose just as the door clicks closed. The smell is familiar yet I am unable to place its source. “Harry?” I ask before I am able to finish the thought. With the word released into the open air I cannot understand why I had been unable to consciously recognise his presence, with every instinct in my body screaming at me that it is the boy who lived.

His footsteps falter on the wooden floor and he pitches his voice to a low whisper. “Yeah. Just me.” Even though I cannot see him from my prone position on the floor I can hear his gaze shift towards Hermione and his eyelids decent to moisten his eyes. “I thought my cloak would be useful.”

“Good idea Harry.” Hermione says and the turns her attention, back in my direction. “Can you walk?” I bite back a venomous retort at her question, knowing that my own pride often does more harm than good when I am offered aid. I nod to the positive not trusting my own words.

At Hermione’s instruction, Ginny takes the weight of one of my arms and cradles it in her hands as Harry does the same along my other side, I pull my knees bent so I can gain some purchase on the ground and as once they begin to lift my torso from the floor. Between the two of them they are able to coax my trembling body upright, the change in altitude no matter how slight presses against my thumping head and I have to drop my temple to my palm. My whole body feels weaker than a newborn kitten, my knees begin to shake threatening to buckle beneath me and my back twitches again in an aggressive spasm. Suddenly there is a body at my side as Harry runs his arm under mine and pushes his shoulder against my armpit, hoisting me up to pull my arm across his shoulder blades for support, the difference in our height already accommodated for as I am slumped over.

After I throw Harry a distinctly dirty look at his intervention he only lifts his free shoulder in disinterest at me. “Problem?” He says, pitching his voice to a low whisper almost daring me to voice my displeasure at his actions. After gritting my teeth and willing my knees to stop shaking I shake my head but still plant my feet against the floor to hold my body upright. Determined, even with the aid of another to be able to carry my own weight. “Alright, Hermione?” He says, apparently happy that I will not try to fight off his assistance.

Hermione pushes the sleeve of her robes against her cheek to wipe away the rapidly drying tears and unfolds a large piece of parchment, which Harry handed her earlier. Personally I can’t see anything useful written upon the page and have to wonder why the boy had to go out of his way to retrieve it along with the strange silver cloak he has handed to Ginny. Although I cannot voice the questions around my rapid breaths I keep wondering how we will be able to manage traversing the hallways hiding under a white sheet, following the directions of a plain sheet of paper without being seen.

Hermione’s wand touches the page and she gently whispers. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” Even though I couldn’t believe the statement uttered from the girlfriends lips for a moment it has a profound effect on the parchment. Black ink swirls around the surface forming words to indicate it’s creators, the just as quickly lines draw themselves across the page, names gliding to and fro between them in a fluid motion but Hermione pays them little attention as she quickly unfolds the strange map several times before refolding it to the section she is looking for. “It’s clear, but we have go now.” She says turning her gaze out way.

“Ginny?” Harry says and without question Ginny throws the silky cloak over both of our heads. Even through my persistent pain I am able to throw a questioning look toward Harry. “Invisibility Cloak.” He says by way of explanation and begins to pull me towards the ornate door. Where on earth did he manage to get his hands on an Invisibility Cloak?

Outside of the confines of the cloak I watch Hermione’s eyes scan over the strange map a final time before opening the door and hurrying the three of us from the room. She leads us down the corridors, her eyes darting from the map to the surrounding area and then back again, all of us travelling in silence, all eyes but mine vigilant to any movement around us. I quickly discover that I have little need to my eyes. Knowing where each of our party is by listening to the shallow breaths and following each distinct sent given off by each of them.

We pass the top of a staircase and the sounds of thousands of voices travel the length of seven floors from the Great Hall. Each voice hits my eardrums as if they were standing at my side, I am treated to the chorus of a hundred different conversations, each word distinct and clear yet melded together into a thundering illogical orchestra of sound. Without meaning to I try to pick out every sentence, every word, every sound and make them coherent, my brain trying to find so order and pattern to the chaos assaulting my ears.

Muscles tighten and spasm throughout my body and without warning Harry gives a sharp cry of pain, which proves to be my undoing. Behind tightly close eyelids my eyes roll skywards into the back my head, teeth grind painfully against each other and my knees give out from under me, pitching me forward and throwing my body into uncontrollable spasms. Even through the random movements of my back and limbs Harry does not loosen his grip on me, falling to one knee and pressing the flat of his palm against my breastplate to halt my rapid decent before I can land face first on the floor in a mass of twitching limbs.

“What’s going on under there?” I hear Ron ask.

Harry gives another grunt of discomfort before adjusting his grip on my back and shifting his weight to push his arm beneath my bent knees. Using strength I didn’t know he possessed he lifts my larger body in his arms and pushes himself into a brisk walk with a quiet order of “Move.”

The change in angle does nothing to stem the rapidly growing irrepressible impulses running through each of my limbs at random intervals. Twice the boy nearly drops me to the floor but somehow his hold is firm enough for him to reach the door to Hermione’s quarters, he is then forced to wait for Hermione to catch up and whisper her password, pushing the door open and he quickly darts into the room. His grip failing him as he passes beneath the threshold, I topple to the ground, suddenly feeling the carpeted floor running against my cheek and arms as I twitch and jerk against it.

“Hermione.” Ginny’s voice assaults my ears. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know.” She says sounding defeated. I hear her knees hit the floor and then feel her hands running under my head, providing a buffer between my thrashing skull and the hard floor. “I just don’t know.”

For endless minuets I convulse in agony, unable to block out the light filtering through my closed eyelids, or the new barrage of aromas invading my nostrils with every shaky breath, or the sounds of frantic heartbeats, hurried breaths and my own flailing limbs. After what feels like an eternity my muscles begin to calm, gradually trailing off to nothing more than a rhythmic twitch deep in my stomach and a steady tremble across my shoulder blades. Hermione gently lifts my head from her hands so she is free to run her fingers through my hair in a comforting way. “Sweetheart?” She pauses and I hear her swallow the lump in her throat just as the salty tank of tears hits my nose. “Are you awake.”

I tell my body to do several things, I tell me eyes to open, my arm to move, my mouth to open so I can speak and find myself unable to do any. Fatigue halts any movement and makes every limb feel like lead, leavening me trapped behind my own eyelids.

Somewhere to my left Ron clears his throat. “Is she unconscious?”
”No.” Is Hermione’s response. “She wouldn’t still be twitching.”

Ginny moves behind me and the table creaks as she rests against it. “Do you have any idea what’s happening?”

“Harry can you help me get her to the bed?” He agrees taking one of my legs in each of her arms. Hermione’s hands press against my shoulders and between them they lift me to the comfortable mattress. I can hear her shuffling before she answers Ginny’s question. “I have a theory. A guess really.” There’s a pause and I would imagine someone in the room silently asks her to continue. “She’s hearing things a lot louder than we are, things we can’t hear. I think it’s too much for her brain to cope with. Which is why she keeps having seizures.”

Across the room I hear as Ginny’s tongue touches her lips to moisten them in thought. “Would that only be affected her hearing?”

There is a heavy pause and Hermione’s heart rate begins to speed up a notch. “Ron, close the curtains.”

“What? Why?”

“We have five senses Ron.” She answers and the curtain rings slide across the pole dimming the light filtering through my eyelids.

I try once again to move in any way, successfully being able to bunch my hand into a fist around the quilt covering Hermione’s bed. Trying to ignore the pounding inside my skull I draw saliva into my mouth and swallow. Trying once again to at the very least open my eyes, they twitch but nothing more.

My attention shifts as I hear Harry’s feet shuffle against the carpet. “Let me get this straight, all of her senses are working on overdrive and she can’t process the information. So the more people who are here, the harder it will be.” He doesn’t receive any verbal answer but the look on someone face must have confirmed his suspicions because he swallows once and begins to stride towards the door. “Come on Ron, Ginny. We can worry just as much elsewhere.” His statement baffles me, why would he be worried? It’s hardly as if such a condition as mine is contagious apart from one night a month. There’s something in his voice, something I don’t think I’ve ever heard before. Never been exposed to, he’s not worried for himself. He’s concern is for me. Someone he only knows through association. Perhaps his concern is for Hermione and what this event will do to her. Perhaps I’m reading it wrong, or analysing it to deeply. The door clicks open and they file out one by one, I hear Harry turn. “If you need anything…”

“I know where you’ll be.” She replies starting to sound tiered. “Thank you.” The door quietly closes and for several long moments Hermione just stands at it. Finally I am able to open my eyelids into slits, glad that the only light in the room is the suns ray peaking below the curtains dimming the room to a level, which is almost bearable. It’s still enough for her to see my eyes when she turns around. “Jamie.” In three strides she has made it to the side of the bed and bent her leg under her to take a seat. Her hand reaches out and inches before she glazes my skin she falters. “Does it hurt when I touch you?”

“No.” I utter in a feeble whisper. Almost instantly her thumb rubs against my temple and her fingers weave into my hair. “My head is killing me.” I complain as I try to blink back the throbbing pain behind my eyes.

She blinks and a single tear rolls down her cheek. “I can’t use any spells. I don’t want to cause you any more pain.”

“I know.” I gain enough feeling in my arm to reach up and take her hand in mine, hoping that it will be a reassuring gesture. Allowing my eyes to follow the decent of that one salty tear down her cheek, marvelling at how I can follow its trail with my sense of smell. The steady stroking of her thumb never stops, the touch, although having no effect on the pain running through my head, offering me comfort far beyond I would ever expect from such a simple movement. “How long was I out for?”

“Just?”

“No.” My tongue reaches forward to moisten parched lips. “After the Patronus.”

“Only a few seconds. I’d barely made my way over when you awoke.” She watches the frown crease my forehead and her eyes fill with curiosity. “Why?”

“I just…” I have to stop myself from saying too much. Being drawn into the unused aspects of my own mind, to converse with the wolf living inside of me is defiantly cause for alarm with regards to my mental heath. “It felt like longer.”

Her eyebrows draw together and her lips push into a thin line, giving me a silent look to show she has noticed that I am hiding something. A look I have become accustomed to over the past weeks. After she briefly worried her bottom lip she only shakes her head. “You and your secrets.” Her eyes show me the hurt she feels at being kept in the dark but she does not push me into a truthful answer, choosing instead to remain quiet due to my current state of physical distress.

Amongst the silence that follows I take a moment to address my heightened senses, noting with some relief that the privacy that has been afforded to us comes with some benefits. Although the lingering sent of each individual person still lingers in the air, the smells are no longer so potent. The sounds of the castle still reach my ears but are dulled to a much more tolerable murmur. Nothing more than the distance sounds of incoherent chatter that my mind is much more adapt the cope with. The most dominating sound being the slow steady breaths of Hermione at my side and her heart, which is very slowly beginning to take on its normal rhythm.

“Is there anything I can do?” She suddenly asks and for the first time I notice her hand fidgeting in my grasp. With every one of my senses augmented in such a way, how is that I had neglected to notice such a movement?

I take a moment to ponder her question, running a list of possibilities through my head. There are some solutions that I must admit she may have overlooked, if only because they are much darker forms of magic than she would have come into contact with. For example a Bromberry when boiled to a specific degree has the capability to completely remove a persons conscious mind from their body, providing an outer body experience, detaching one from the pain. Granted it has been used in very rare and usually fatal cases with coma patience so they are able to speak with their loved ones. However the Berry is highly addictive as is the feeling of being detached from one’s body and as such will be very difficult to get hold of.

There are many spells that I can think of just to ease the pain but after the charm she used in the Room of Requirement I am loath to have her try them for fear of a repeat performance.

All of these magical solutions I can formulate I disregard for one reason or another. Until I am left with a single thing that I truly want, something I have never wanted or needed before. I crave nothing more or less than her physical contact. The small motion of her thumb against my temple is soothing but my skin crawls with the need to feel her along the length of me. “Would you…” My own body cuts off the request, wondering exactly how someone asks for such a thing.

“What?” She prods.

“Can you just hold me?” I answer after a lengthy pause, unable to put any other voice to the words. My lip is unconsciously pulled between my teeth waiting for a biting comment or a rebuttal.

She smiles so brightly that it halts the tears leaking from her eyes, slowly she presses her lips to my temple and very carefully clambers over my prone body. Her arm snakes loosely across my hip and tightens around my midsection so her chest rests fully against my back. “Try to get some sleep.” She whispers.

I know the pain in my skull with prevent me from such an action, but she is unable to see my features from her position. Shear exhaustion prevents me from wanting to move from this comfortable embrace so I settle in, focusing my attention to the steady thumping of her heart until all else falls away from my conscious mind.
- 17
- 18
- 19
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By The Light