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By The Light	By : lycanthrope Category: Harry Potter > FemSlash - Female/Female Views: 17677 -:- 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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Chapter 22

The cold water stings my skin as it splashes against my face, my hands rub vigorously against my skin, trying to rid myself of the lingering stench of the portions classroom. I cup my hand once more under the running tap and bring the refreshing liquid to my face, taking extra time to run my fingers around my nasal passageways. Nothing is working. The moment the shock of the freezing water begins to weaver I can smell all of the odors that reside down in the dark, dank, dungeons. It's everywhere, resting on my skin, stuck to the individual stands of my hair and no matter how many times I try to cleanse my face it lingers and forces my head to pound with every passage of blood though it. Finally giving up, I meet the eyes of my reflection, leaning heavily on the basin and watching my jaw muscles clench beneath the skin. “Make this stop.” I say, trying to bleed a commanding tone through my words but only my pleading voice hits my ears. I don't know if it is my imagination or not but I would swear I see Ammy shift behind my iris' and a deep sense of discomfort echoes across my skin. 'I cannot.' After many long breaths her voice rings inside of my head. “You will not.” I accuse, turning from the mirror and snatching my towel from the rail to press it against my face. Her sigh sounds inside of my skull. 'Only you have the power to lessen this burden.' “Enough with the fucking cryptic words!” I shout, throwing the towel against the row of sinks. The moment the words are free, I release the last shreds of my temper have slipped between my fingers. It is rare for me to swear and even more so for me to raise my voice in such a way but I have just been reduced to both, by a voice in my own mind. Quickly I turn my attention towards the stalls. I did not have the presence of mind to check if they were empty when I entered and with no lock on the door this is hardly the most private place I could have this discussion. Ammy falls silent, whether to appease me or to anger me further I have no way of knowing, but somehow she manages to do both, in equal measure. I drop down onto one knee and lower my head to the tiled floor, allowing my eyes to search under the closed cubicles for any sign of life. I'm thankful to find myself alone but unwilling to test my luck a second time. So without further thought on the matter I exit the restroom, glancing up and down the deserted hallway and setting my long stride in any direction that takes me away from both the dungeons and the potions classroom. Without being totally aware of my direction I pass beneath yet another threshold and the sharp winds of the early spring catch the skin along my cheek. Finding myself strangely outdoors should no longer shock me so deeply. Something deep in the pit of my belly or in the darkest crevice of my mind compels me to be out in the open air. That deep feeling of freedom bringing me back over and over again, craving to break free of the confining walls of the castle. I had at first attributed it to the changes that have happens recently taken place in my life. Or the lines between human and beast blurring until I desired what the beast inside of me thought it needed to survive. Now the world isn't so black and white. The wolf I had made every effort to distance myself from invades my mind and takes up residence. Lines that were once drawn in the sand have been wiped away by an uncaring paw. Where do I end and she being? Is the deep seated need to feel the wind running through my hair my own feelings as I miss the exhilaration of the Quidditch pitch? Or merely an older, more primal need for the creature in my chest to feel at liberty? The thought alone almost makes me want to turn on my heel and return to the indoors. My obstinacy almost winning over against the elation rising within my chest. Almost. Frowning at my own weakness, against such a simple temptation I let one foot fall in front of the other so I move away from the cold, unforgiving stone walls and out into the open air. My gaze never leaves my feet, even as they pass over cobble stones and out into the grounds, flattening innocent blades of grass beneath them with each footfall. No destination in mind but I know that if I even attempt to stand still, I might tear out my own hair in frustration. The incident in the potions room was a miscalculation that I will not permit to happen again. I will bring my own body under my control and I will master this new aspect it has acquired. Whereas I had at first focused much of my efforts into building a tolerance to my enhanced hearing, it now becomes apparent that my sense of smell, especially when aggravated in such a way, can be even more detrimental to the mask of impassivity I have spent so much time and effort maintaining over the years. The new

developments in my disorder must remain a secret at all costs, and if there is one thing I do well, it's keeping secrets. Especially when they are my own. To get a tighter grip on this sense, I need once more to expose myself. A task, which will, in no small way, be as simple as to strategically place myself in the Great Hall. The only smells that can be found there is that of the other clean bodies around me and the enticing sent of the delectable foods displayed. To be able to keep myself under control in my potions lesson I will need to find something more acrid and foul than I would ever find in Snape's supply cupboard and religiously expose myself to it until it no longer has any hold over me. The problem I am now faced with is what could produce such a pungent stench, that I have continual access to? What tools do I have at my disposal to aid me in this solution? 'Will you share such deep thoughts?' Her voice pushing through my reverie has me stopping in my tracks. For just a fleeting moment I had forgotten she existed within me. My looming loss of sanity falling into darkness in favor of puzzling out my more immediate problems to the finest detail. 'You're silence is troubling.' “I told you I wasn't very talkative.” I answer, resuming my walk and determined to put her out of my thoughts for a second time. 'Yet you evaluate so deeply that your thoughts almost touch mine.' Her words once more bring me to a halt. “You can hear my thoughts?” I ask, deeply unsettled by the notion. If that were to be true she could hold more power over me that I would have ever thought possible. 'Not as such.' She must be able to hear the relief in my exhale because she quickly continues. 'I am able to feel that they trouble you deeply.' “Stay out of my thoughts.” I warn taking the time to glance around the open grounds to make sure no one will be able to overhear as I slowly lose my grip on reality. 'Why must you guard yourself so?' Patently she waits for my answer. It's a mistake many people make around me. I know my silence can be somewhat frustrating but no answer I could give would be either truthful or satisfactory. So I say nothing and when I feel her irritation run across my shoulders I hope that she will accept my stoic nature and forgo any further attempts at civil conversation. 'Is your own council always sufficient?' Is such persistence always so bothersome? Perhaps if I make a substantial offering to Harpocrates Ammy might fall into silence, permanently. “Yes.” My answer is both curt and sharp so maybe she might pick up on the harsh tone of my voice and drop the subject, along with any other. The pause, to my displeasure only lasts for a moment. 'How is it you are able lie so convincingly?' The growl that rumbles in my chest is so animalistic that it must originate from the creature beneath my skin but is born from my own frustration. “Practice.” I say through gritted teeth, pushing my legs into a brisk walk. The last thing I want to be doing is having this argument, or for that matter any sort of conversation, with what is quite possibility my own subconscious. Or, if I am not losing touch with reality, a hairy, snarling beast that is only able to completely take control once a month. Neither of which I would feel comfortable confiding in. 'Perhaps I may be able to be of some assistance?' She says, under normal circumstances I would remove the annoyance from my immediate vicinity, or expel the irritation completely so I will not be tempted to react to it. I do not have that option available to me in this instance and it is slowly beginning to throw me off balance. When she was content to be a silent passenger behind my eyes I could almost forget her presence, save for the more intense of her emotion running rampant across my skin, which I will admit was a little disconcerting. However before this afternoon she did not become involved in my affairs or question the way in which I conduct myself and I do not care for this drastic change. The laugh that runs through my head after many moments of her wordlessly waiting for me to reply is by no means humorous. 'Yours must be a lonely existence, Human.' I have to psychically bite my tongue at the use of my species as a substitute for my name. I will not give her the satisfaction of rising to the bait she has laid for me, no matter the temptation. Thankfully she does not try again to initiate any further conversation with me. I can still feel her, critically gazing out at the world from behind my eyes but I am grateful that she is at least doing so quietly.

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All too quickly the daylight dissolves into the first signs of twilight. The sky once such a pure pale blue is now alive with vibrate scarlet steaks as the last rays of the sun desperately cling to the western sky. Soon the presence of the day must lose its battle and hand over the earth to the night, shrouding me in the comfort of the darkness it will carry in its wake. I had not noticed the passage of time until I noticed the light beginning to dwindle. I cannot place another time that I have been able to lose myself, to such an extent for such a long period of time without being safely tucked away in my self-induced solitude. The quickly retreating daylight forces me to return to the indoors, as I am unwilling to see the extent of Umbridge's wrath if I am found outside of the castle walls after nightfall. I have no doubt that she would use such information to smear my name and incite terror into the hearts of those around me, for no other reason than it is nothing less than those with my particular affliction deserve. Granted I have no concrete evidence to suggest she is capable of being quite so devious but it is a level I would certainly stoop too, given the opportunity.

Returning to the rest of the student body becomes a chore the moment I step out of the chilling wind. An ache deep within my chest beseeching to be returned to the open air released to the wild and allowed to run. The need for open spaces can simply be an effect of the impending full moon. Less than two weeks separate me from my next transformation and previous experience does suggest that I become restless around this time of the month. Though I don’t remember the feeling being this palpable. I dare not risk entering the Great Hall, even though dinner has long since ended and students will be dwindling in numbers, I don't think I could bear to be around others at this time. This is a feeling that I know to be wholly mine. Even after so many hours I have been unable to conceive a suitable solution to my advanced sense of smell disrupting my lessons. There are many things in the world that can give off a pungent enough odor and should be able to desensitize me to the violent sensations I experienced in the dungeon. However none that I can think of are either immediately or continuously available to me. It is not often that I fail in such matters and this predicament has put me into a sour mood to say the least. For this reason I only contemplate climbing the stairs to the northern tower. Where I know a warm shower and loving embrace beckon me. The consideration only passes through me for a second before I weave my way through the ground floor corridors to my private room. There is no reason to subject her to my current state. She would only wish to assist me and that in turn would only irk me further. In such a vast school the answer must be obtainable, it is simply a matter of finding it but right now I am finding myself far too drained to ponder it further. I'm well on my way to my room when I hear her voice, young Ginny Weasley, muttering away to herself. I almost turn on the spot the moment I hear her voice echoing down stone walls, but other than Hermione's chambers where have I to go? Perhaps I will be able to just dismiss the redhead so I may be left to suffer in peace. Although I find that particular outcome unlikely. What I find when I turn the corner has my eyebrow raising in interest. The younger witch has taken some time to get herself as comfortable as possible in the drafty hallway and is sitting on the floor with her back pressed up against the withered wood of my door. Her legs outstretched in front of her and crossed at the ankles. Her head pressed back against the wood grain and her speech doesn’t stop for an instant. “Honestly Jamie. You should have seen his face.” In her hand is a small box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans and she shakes the small cardboard box to disrupt the contents so her eyes can scan through the multitude of colours she must find there. She has yet to notice my presence but still she speaks to me, this girl is if nothing else very strange. “All I said was 'I think we should see other people.' and he looks at me like I'd just killed and eaten his owl or something. We weren’t even that close in all seriousness. You and Hermione have it made. Men can be so clingy some times.” Her rant only stops when my shadow falls over her, drawing her attention from the sweets in her hand. She looks up and me, her forehead creasing in confusion and her jaw hangs from its hinges for a moment. Tilting my head to the side I try not to let my amusement at the situation show. “What in the name of all the Gods are you doing?” “Urm...” She says her teeth snapping together as

she pushes some rigidity into her jaw. “Talking to... You?” The halted words should have been a statement of fact but my sudden arrival appears to have thrown her off balance and I take a small amount of sadistic pleasure when I am able to reassure myself that I am not the only one out of sorts this evening. “I see.” The small grin on my face a direct contrast to the sarcasm laced through my tone. “That must have been a riveting conversation.” “Yeah well...” She huffs as she pushes against the door so she is able to clamber to her feet, brushing her hand across the backs of her trousers to dislodge the dust that clings to them. “I thought you would be in there and were just being stoic.” Crossing my arms across my chest I can't help but feel touched by her actions. “You thought I was being so quiet, yet you did not take that as a hint that I might wish to be left alone?” “You know I did think that and I just didn't care.” She holds her sweets out to me in offering. “Want a bean? I've yet to find any bogey flavored ones but there was a tense moment when one turned out to be tomato instead of strawberry.” “No. Thank you.” Feeling my eyebrows hood heavily over my eyes I regard her as she turns her attention once more to the unpredictable treat. “Perhaps I wish to be alone now.” The hint is by no means subtle I know, but I am unsure if I could express myself in any sort of tactful way around the girl and be fully understood. She merely shrugs into the cardboard box. “Tough.” She says and I feel a small ball of anger ignite within my belly. My privacy is something that I guard ferociously and with a simple word she has managed to simply brush aside my wishes. Her eyes meet mine after a few moments of deeply uncomfortable silence. “Jamie. You spend way too much time alone. It's just not healthy, especially when you need someone's heartbeat to stop you having seizures or passing out.” 'She raises a valid point.' After so many hours of quiet Ammy is back, her resounding voice filling my head without warning. Violently I flinch from the unexpected intrusion. “See.” Ginny says, as if the instinctive movement proves her point. “Even now you're having problems with that hearing.” It is fortunate that she took the movement as a show of pain from some distant noise that she is unable to perceive but the fact that she was able to see the action proves that I must learn a way to control the reaction whenever Ammy chooses to make her opinion known. “I am capable of looking after myself.” I state. “Yeah.” Her shoulders bunch in a shrug for a moment and her gaze meets mine. “That shouldn't mean that you have to.” Again, she raises an interesting perspective, one I am certain I have never considered. I have always been under the impression that personal failings should always remain private. At the very most a family member could offer support or aid. Now I find myself confronted with this outgoing, outspoken girl who not only goes out of her way to lend a helping hand but actively fights against my resistance to it. It does still cause me irritation but not to the extent I had expected. The thought alone causes some undefinable warm sensation across my skin that I have rarely felt before. For several long moments I watch her, watching me with much more patience than I thought she possessed. Finally I take a deep breath and make my decision. “Would you like to come inside?” She grins so wide that she shows me her teeth. “I was beginning to think you were going to send me away.” I answer with my own smirk. “I very nearly did.” I step around her and whisper my password to the door, knowing that she will be able to hear it but find myself strangely relaxed about that fact. As I push on the door it drops off its hinge so the door drags along the floor and I have to tug it upwards to be able to swing it open into the corridor. “Have you still not fixed that?” Ginny comments walking past me and into the room. “It slipped my mind.” With how little time I spend in the small, confined space the effort almost seemed pointless. “Right. We'll fix it later.” She says no longer offering her aid but forcing it upon me, as if she knows that I would refuse if it were not spoken like a demand. She takes a seat on the bed, eyeing it weary as the springs creak in protest beneath her weight, and then pulls herself further onto it so her back rests against the cold wall. “Well. This is almost as comfortable as sitting on the floor.” I do not comment but release a snort of laughter at her statement. She need not remind me of the state of that particular piece of furniture, the mere thought causes my back and knees to ache. “What are you making?” She asks peering over to the now cold cauldron on the desk. “Nothing of consequence.” I

take out my wand and after taping the metal brim once I silently cleanse the appliance. I'd forgotten about the stagnant potion I had left in this room. At the very least it no longer smells of the sea in here. “So, what did you come here to talk about?” “Anything.” She says with yet another shrug. The statement is baffling to say the very least. She came here with no specific purpose, no intentions in mind. So what is the point? Once again her attention resides with her sweets. She holds one in her hand and studies it in the dim light, as if working up the courage to actually test the flavor of it. “I broke it off with Michel.” “I heard.” I had gathered as much from the small amount of the one sided conversation when I turned the corner. “Are you no longer attracted to him?” My eyes scan my desk. I should tidy away my apothecary supplies. If my deal with Ammy holds true I will have no further use for it and the action could act as positive gesture to the beast still peering out through my eyes. “For his looks maybe.” I can almost hear the natural indifference in her voice. “But he does not have unkempt black hair and short sightedness.” My smirk is the only answer she revives to her narrowed eyes. Her attraction to Harry is no secret except to the clueless boy himself. “No.” She says with menace laced through her voice. “He's boring.” “You'd grow bored of breathing if it weren’t a natural reaction.” She nods slightly in agreement. “Probably.” Once more my eyes sweep the desk and with a lethargic stretch I push the tip of my wand against the base of the cauldron to light the flame and begin to pull ingredients from the side and study the labels. “What are you doing?” The redhead asks from across the cramped room. “I have a headache.” Is her only answer and in moments I have conjured enough liquid in the base of my apparatus and added all the ingredients to the very simple potion. “Is the end of your relationship what you wished to speak to me about?” Sitting back I give Ginny most of my attention, only checking the potion every few moments as it comes up to boil. “Not particularly. You weren’t at dinner, just thought I’d check in.” I lift my chin in silent question, wondering why my well-being is so important to her. However she either fails to notice the gesture or completely ignores it. “Have you given any more thought to Hermione's nickname?” She asks finally having the courage to put the brown colored bean into her mouth and I watch as her facial expression sour instantly. “None” I answer honestly. She nods a moment and appears to be holding her breath against the presumably foul taste in her mouth, her eyes scan the room looking for somewhere to dispose of the unwanted treat and upon finding non she swallows it without chewing. Screwing her face up in disgust the moment she begins to breath. “I thought you'd say that.” She holds her hand out to halt the conversation before sticking her tongue out and running her nails across it to rid herself of the taste. “That tasted like crap.” “Given its colour it is possible.” I say noticing the first bubbles forming in my potion and quickly douse the flame, giving it only a moment to cool before I ladle it out into a goblet and place it on the desk for a minute. Ginny for her part pushes the remainder of her sweets away as if I had just told her they were highly explosive and curiously gazes at me. “Aren’t you going to drink that?” To be perfectly honest I had begun to make the damned thing for something to occupy both my mind and my hands as we spoke. Now that it is ready I am unsure. Before in the Room of Requirement the 'Muffliato' charm had a very adverse effect on me, the reasons for which are still unknown. Will this potion provoke the same result? And if so, once it begins will there be a way to stop it? Pushing my fingers and thumb against my temple I am reminded of the fact that my head has not ceased pounding for days on end and I would give almost anything for just a few hours of relief. Without giving myself time to analyze my actions any further I reach for the goblet and swallow the draught in a single gulp. The effect is immediate and to my immense relief the pain recedes to nothing. My shoulders relax and I lean my elbows heavily on the wooden desk, pressing the warmed metal of the drained goblet against my forehead. It feels like a weight has been lifted from my entire body, letting me relax into my own skin. A feeling I had taken for granted until this moment. “Better?” Ginny asks and I can hear the smile in her words. “Yes.” I say around a genuine laugh. Pushing my head to the side I both hear and feel the bones in my neck pop with the movement, releasing yet further tension from my aching muscles. “By the gods yes.” She makes a noise in the back of her throat that, to at least my ears, rings of approval.

“Well at least that's something. Beginning to think I should cart you off to bed through.” Taking my skin from the cooling metal and finding my eyelids as heavy as lead I'm inclined to agree with her. But for one small problem. “You appear to be sitting on it.” Her eyebrows shoot up in disbelief, pulling her eyes wide and wrinkling her forehead. “You can't seriously be considering sleeping down here.” “I can.” Slowly I ease myself back into my seat, resting heavily against the back of the chair. “I enjoy my privacy.” “Not from your 'Snuggles'.” She says leaning forward to watch my reaction closely and upon receiving the most disapproving look I can muster she sighs in frustration, blowing her long fringe out of her eyes. “How can you not like the name Snuggles?” “With great ease I assure you.” She grumbles something unintelligible in the back of her throat and pulls herself forward to rest much of her weight on the soles of her feet but does not stand. “Shall we go?” For a few long heartbeats she just looks, unflinching into my eyes, almost daring me to challenge her on the subject. “You're not going to let this drop are you?” “Nope. If you insist on sleeping down here, then so do I.” She leans forward again and lowers her voice trying to make it take a menacing edge, which does little more than give her a melodramatic air. “And I kick.” Swiftly she stands and gently strikes me with the back of her hand, in some strange gesture to get me moving. “Come on.” I find myself too tired to argue with the younger witch so concede on this occasion but not before I have dug several clean flagons from my trunk and sealed the fresh potion I have made within them. She shakes her head at me as I begin to tidy away my desk and leaves the room, presumably hoping that the action will force me to follow her. I quickly use the time to request Ammy leave me with some privacy for the evening. I find myself disinclined to have a heated discussion with Hermione with regards to my problems down in the dungeons when I have the primal half of my body nagging from inside my skull to be more truthful than I am completely comfortable with when speaking to my girlfriend. As soon I leave the small dingy room and once more am forced to lift the door so that it closes properly I fall into stride with the youngest Wesley, unsurprised when she jumps immediately into conversation. “Doesn't take a lot to convince you to go and spend the night with your 'Ducky.'” She gets a hopeful look in her eyes for a moment as we simultaneously glance across the small space that separates us. “Ducky?” Is all I can say, having to strain in the effort not to roll my eyes. “You cannot take every animal you can think of, put a 'Y' at the end and call it a term of endearment.” “Hey.” She says sharply, cutting her hand through the air in front of her. “I thought we were of the understanding that we were calling this a nickname.” “Because there is such a vast difference between the two.” Sarcasm once more flows through my words and practically drips onto the stone beneath our feet. “Of cause there is. If I ever have to retell this story there is no way I’m calling it 'The Great Hunt for the Perfect...” She lowers the pitch of her voice significantly and pushes her tongue between her lower lip and her teeth as she speaks to make her sound like an imbecile. “Term of Endearment.” Try as I may I don't think I am able to keep the dismay from my voice. “That's preposterous.” “Why? Because I would actually be telling people about my life?” The gentle jibe does not go unnoticed, especially considering she turns her gaze fully towards me to view my reaction. “No.” I answer a beat too quickly, betraying the fact that the thought of her revealing our private conversations makes much of my blood turn to ice in me veins. “Because you would entitle it.” She shrugs her shoulders in indifference and announces “I have an idea” before drastically changing the topic of discussion. Sometimes it is very difficult to keep pace with how quickly this woman’s mind can jump from one subject to the next. “There is no way that you are going to agree to any nickname I can think up.” I should have guessed she would drag us back to that one way or another. I make a noise of agreement in the back of my throat, not wanting to disrupt her train of thought. “So I could start calling her these names and see how she reacts.” “Why on earth would you do that?” “Because it's fun.” She throws a meaningful look in my direction. “And because it will make you squirm.” I sigh and try to make it sound uncaring. “Do what you must.” The evil grin that pulls across her face gives me a inclining that she has been able to see right through my ruse.
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By The Light