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
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Chapter 4

Slowly I feel as unconsciousness slips away from my mind. My mouth dry, my tongue feeling too large for my mouth, my skin cold and damp. The first rays of morning light hit my eyelids, slowly they open into slits against the dim light.

The tip of my tongue hits my upper lip and I try to swallow past the ache running down my throat. My left hand lifts from the dew covered grass beneath it to shade my tired eyes from the light of the steadily rising sun. All I know is that I ache. From head to toe and I cannot shake the feeling that something is distinctly wrong.

I can't understand why I am waking up on the castle grounds. I bring both of my hands to my face and scrub against my skin, trying in vain to force my mind to awaken sufficiently, so I can assess the situation. After only a moment I freeze pulling both of my hands away from my face to stare at them blankly. What's wrong with this picture? There is something inaccurate but I cannot fight off the last effects of sleep to understand what it is.

First I close my right fist, then my left unable to comprehend why this fills me with relief and dread at the same time. Something's wrong with my hands but what? They look perfectly functional to me. Now I twist both wrists in turn so my closed fist faces away from me. There is quite clearly nothing wrong with them. Finally realization hits me like a bludger to the face and my eyes snap wide open. The effects of sleep dropping from my mind in an instant. My arm isn't broken. I open and close my hand a few more times for clarity. There is no pain and I have full movement of the limb.

I hastily push myself up into a sitting position, my body aches in protest but none of my limbs crumble beneath me. Even as I lean forward and run both of my hands over my thigh. I find nothing there. Just my leg. Void of the horrific pain I felt the night before and no trace of any distorted bones beneath the skin.

I feel myself begin to breathe a little more franticly. Did I imagine all of last night? If that is the case why am I still outside the castle? Why am I not curled up under my sheets in the dungeons? I lift the sleeve of my robe and run my hand along my arm’s length. There is no way the bone can be broken, yet I distinctly remember hearing it crack and the pain associated with it.

As I look down at my impossibly, uninjured limb my robes finally catch my attention. All along my right hand side they are ripped down to my bear skin. The frayed tears in the fabric, covered in thick dried blood. I reach beneath my robes and feel along my side, pulling them away clean. This is madness. How can my robes be ripped so servilely and yet my skin is not?

Glancing around my surroundings I notice two things. Firstly, that I am alone. The grounds are distinctly still and silent against the sunrise. Secondly, that I am not within the confines of the trees of the Forbidden Forest. It is as though I have been placed just outside of the dense tree line.

Slowly I push myself to my feet, and cast my eyes though the dark foliage. I remember walking in there with the same sense of foreboding as I feel now. What happened in there after I passed out? What could possibly have healed my injuries in such a short space of time?

The cold grip of fear begins to slide up my throat, attempting to choke me as my eyes dart around in vain trying to see into the darkness between the trees. I turn my head sharply in the direction of the castle then back over towards the rising sun. Both of my hands raking through my hair as questions begin to swim through my mind.

I glance at my watch and see it is a little after five and experience tells me that there are very few who roam the school at this time in the morning. I would be able to travel along the hallways without meeting a soul if I were careful and with the state of my robes that can only be a good thing. So with one final glance between the trees I begin a gentle jog back to one of the castles many courtyards, having enough sense to dash across the cobblestone floor and push the heavy wooden arched door open. I quickly descend the spiral staircase finding my way into the dungeons and make it back to my private quarters without even the appearance of one of the school's numerous ghosts.

Once safely on the other side of my doorway I am able to afford a moment to breathe, leaning against the doorway with inquiries as to both my mental and physical health running rampant in my mind.

My hands pull at my ruined robes as I make my way to the adjacent shower room, the shower consisting of nothing more than a shower head fixed to the stone wall with taps to control the temperature and a tub at its base with just enough room to stand up in.

Having resolved to remove the grime of the wilderness from my skin as soon as possible, I pull the tattered robe off my back and drop it to the ground, my shirt swiftly follows. The water begins to run as hot as I am able to stand it before my shoes trousers and underwear join the growing piles of clothes. Its mere moments before my eyes are closed and I'm ducking under the scolding spray.

I rest my hands against the tiled wall and just relish the feeling of the refreshing water travelling down my back. It runs through my hair and along my face, pooling and dripping off my chin. The liquid at my feet turning a light shade of brown as it quickly dispels the grime from my body.

Slowly I open my eyes and watch the water cascade from my eyebrows and in front of my sight for a moment before pushing it off my face and through my hair with a revealed sigh. Allowing myself to enjoy the cleaning effects of the water before reaching for the soap and scrubbing the remaining dirt from my hair and skin.

The taps squeak in protect as I turn off the scolding spay and reach for a towel, scrubbing it against my face before wrapping it around my upper body and stepping out of the tiny tub.

My fingers grasp the edge of the small sink and I find myself leaning down heavily on them. My eyes are constantly drawn to my forearm which by all rights should at this moment be filled with pain and possibly be set at an odd angle.

My eyes close and I shake my head vigorously to dismiss the thoughts of my healed injuries. It's not as if I can take myself down to the infirmary and ask the resident medi-witch to heal my non-existent wounds. Or complain about being too healthy.

The palm of my hand flattens against the cool glass of the mirror and whips across it once to clear away the thin line of condensation that has appeared upon its surface. As I look into my distorted reflection the skin along my shoulder catches my attention. Three angry red lines run over my shoulder and along my chest beneath the towel. I don't remember getting scratched.

I run my fingers along the strange marking as I look down at my shoulder. The lines are slightly elevated from the surface of my skin, the colour and texture of them resembling a newly acquired scar. The same markings marry the flesh of my stomach, reaching around to my back and running horizontally around my torso. It is possible that I obtained these marking when I fell from the incline. However if that is the case why is it that these remain on my skin when my broken bones have been healed with no noticeable consequences?

I swallow a nervous lump in my throat and begin to rub the towel over my skin, now knowing I need to get down into the infirmary and find out the origin of these strange scars.

It takes me minuets to dry my skin and dress. Leaving the safety of my room with my hair still damp and ascend the nearest stairs into the heart of the castle. Passing though the Entrance Hall as older students are beginning to rouse from their beds and make their way down for an early breakfast, I keep my eyes on the floor and continue on my mission up the stairs.

I make it unhindered to the doorway of the infirmary before I hear my name and freeze with my hand on the doorknob, I find myself having to remember to keep breathing. My head turns towards the voice and my teeth grind of their own accord. For weeks I've been hoping and praying that she would call out to me. Why does she choose this moment to answer them? "Hello Hermione." I greet politely with a raspy voice.

She slowly approaches, two books clutched tightly against her chest, her eyes on the infirmary doors then slowly shifting towards me. "Is everything alright?"

I feel myself swallow. Do I want to talk to her about this? She's quite possibly the only person who I would feel comfortable discussing my current predicament with. My lips move of their own accord and answer for me, "Everything's fine." Yet still my pride prevents me from opening up to the concerned woman and showing my weaknesses, unwilling to see a shred of either pity or sympathy upon her face.

Her forehead creases in confusion. "Then why are you going to the infirmary?"

My hand snatches away from the doorknob as if it burns my skin and my eyes cast over the doorway. Trying my hardest to feign ignorance of the contents of that particular room. I clear my throat and begin to processes of lying through my teeth. "Must have gotten turned around."

"I see." She doesn't believe me but thankfully does not press the issue. "So you're alright?"

I turn to face her head on, my gaze flicking up to meet hers for just a moment before I drop it to the floor. Unable to find a reason for the concern crossing her features. "I'm fine."

"Good." The air of awkwardness falls around us. She’s shifting from one foot to the other and my hands are balling into fists and pressing deep into my pockets. "So..." She clears her throat, visibly uncomfortable with the silence. "I'd better go."

"Yeah." I step to one side as she passes me by and make to walk past the infirmary until she is a safe distance away. My steps falter and I come to a stop, turning on the spot I call out to her. She thankfully stops and pays me her full attention. "Draco knows." I call along the deserted hallway.

Her mouth drops into a perfect 'O' and her face quickly drains of colour. She steps towards me and drops her voice to a whisper. "How?"

Both of my shoulders tense in a shrug. "I don't know, but he does."

She comes a few steps closer her arms tightening visibly around her books. "You're certain?"

'Did you ever bring your mudblood out here?' His voice echoes around my mind as I stare past her. Still able to feel the phantom pain from my fall. "Pretty certain."

Her worried eyes land on me and I can feel as she scrutinizes me from head to toe. "Are you okay?" she asks again, this time her voice filled with an urgency which had not been present before.

By all rights I shouldn't be. For all intensive purposes I should still be in the depths of the Forbidden Forest, completely immobile. Left to the mercy of the wilderness as life slowly slips from my grasp. Trying not to think about it I nod. "I'll live." I say with a distracted tone to my voice. My gaze shoots up to catch hers and I step still closer to her and whisper. "He'll hurt you." Last night is proof that he is capable. I watch as she swallows in apparent fear. "If he gets the chance, he'll hurt you." I have no intention to scare her without reason but I cannot leave her defenceless. "Try to stay close to your friends and by the Gods be careful."

She nods slowly at my advice and looks up at me. "Has he hurt you?"

My jaw clenches as I decide how best to answer her. "Apparently, nothing permanent. Just promise me you'll be careful."

"I will, thank you."

I nod at her in a polite gesture as she turns and walks along the corridor. As I watch her back as she slowly walks away from me I make a private oath to the God Nemesis. If he harms one hair on her head I will make him beg for death with the pain I inflict.

Now free of an audience I am able to enter the infirmary unobserved and quietly make my way into the room. All of the beds are currently empty, which is always a good sign and I find myself alone in the large room, my eyes hunting for Madame Pomfrey.

She startles me when she approaches from behind. "Miss Desay." Every muscle in my body tenses in surprise and I turn to face her. "Another Quidditch injury?" A small vial of some sort of healing potion rests open in her hands.

I offer her a tight lipped smile. Being involved in the sport does dictate my presence here often and I have come to like the mild mannered medi-witch over the months. "Not today." I clear my throat as nerves swell in my chest. "I was wondering. Could you take a look at something for me?"

Her bright smile calms me somewhat; she corks the vial in her hands and makes her way over to one of the many empty bed. "Of course I can dear. It is what I'm here for."

"Great." I say following her, wiping my suddenly sweaty palms against my trouser legs. She draws a curtain around us instructively knowing that this particular query is in need of privacy. "I've got these... These..." I find myself unable to continue even as I gesture to my shoulder, finally resting my palm flat against it. "These marks, I don't know what they are or erm... or how I got them."

She regards me with kind eyes and makes an interested noise in the back of her throat. "I'll need to see them dear."

"Right... of course." Slowly I remove my robes and set them to one side of the bed and quickly undo my school shirt, bearing my skin to her.

After I put my shirt to one side I turn my eyes up towards hers, her brow creased in confusion. "This shoulder?" She asks as she takes it between her cold fingers. I nod to the affirmative as she leans down for a much closer look. "There's nothing there Miss Desay."

"What?" I don't have time to cover the surprise in my voice. The tips of my fingers instinctively seeking of the position of the strange marks, running along my skin where I know they were less than half an hour ago. This is madness. Could I have possibly imagined them as well? "I..." They were there. I know they were there. My fingers run down to my stomach and sure enough the skin there is unblemished and smooth. How on earth is this possible? "I... erm." I can't prove they were ever there and as I look up to the concerned eyes of Madame Pomfrey I fear for my own sanity. "I must have caught myself on something." With a new sense of haste I reach for my shirt and begin to dress myself.

"Are you quite alright?"

I nod franticly, trying to convince myself. "I think so." When the buttons of my shirt are done I reach for my robes all the time her eyes follow my movements, within seconds I am dressed and have pushed back to curtain to leave the infirmary. I throw my thanks for her time over my shoulder and leave the room. Firmly shutting the door behind me. My hand runs over my mouth as I begin to think. What could heal me so quickly? Is there something wrong with me? Was I rescued last night? I know that some healing charms can take longer on open wounds than broken bones. If that is the case then why leave me to the elements on the castle grounds? Or could I possibly have imagined the entire thing?

I glance at my watch and realize that my first lesson is more than an hour from now. I have no stomach for breakfast and no wish to see certain members of my house. So I turn away from the Great Hall and set a course for the library. Determined to research every method of rapid healing in the magical world. Something has to match these symptoms, if the answer is in that library I'll find it.

~~~####~~~~

I’ve found that it is easy to lose yourself in books. I hunt and I scourer the entire library for what feels to only be a short time, before realizing I have missed two lessons when I check the clock above the doorway to discover it is close to midday.

Without realizing it I have managed to miss Defence Against the Dark Arts, currently a pointless lesson with Professor Umbridge mindlessly reciting from the text book day after day. Dark magic and also defence against it must be practised. Not theorized to death. I have practised dark magic since I was old enough to speak. I would have no need to attend this lesson even if it were more than blindly copying from an old Ministry approved book.

I have also missed a lesson of Ancient Runes, something which requires much more time and dedication from me. Simply because most of the time I fail to understand it. The subject matter becoming more and more confusing as the year progresses, this is confounded with the absence of Hermione to explain some of the more intricate patterns to me.

Presently nothing can be done about it. Books lie open atop more open books. Spread out across the whole of the large table. All open to some sort of passage with regards to rapid healing. Even amongst all of this knowledge I have found nothing. Nothing tangible anyway. There are many spells and charms which can account for this but I have no theories as to who could have cast them. Who would be wondering the Forbidden Forest at that time of night, and who would not immediately send me to the infirmary?

There are few creatures of who could be responsible. I briefly considered Phoenix tears. That is until I discovered that I would have to show great loyalty towards its owner. The only man I know who owns such a bird is the headmaster and I don't remember showing any act of loyalty towards the man. I barely know him. The theory does not make sense so I disregarded it.

Then there is Unicorn blood. Yet, apart from a few aches and pains I don't feel detached; I don't feel only half alive. Add that to the fact that I was in no conceivable position to hurt and kill such a beast for a taste of its blood. The fleeting thought was dismissed quickly as ludicrous. Gorgon's blood was also swiftly discounted for the same reasons.

I lean back in my chair in sheer frustration. Each book I look at just tells me the same thing as the one before. Why have so many books if they are just going to repeat themselves? I rest heavily against the back of my chair and reach skywards in a long stretch, smiling in satisfactions as a few of the bones along my spine pop.

"So this is where you've been hiding?"

Cracking one eye open I regard Hermione as she shakes her head at me. Placing her bag on the table over from mine she approaches slowly. "Twice in one day. People will start to talk." I comment easily, hoping to lighten the mood between us.

"You missed two lessons." She says accusingly.

I tilt my head to the side in indifference. Wondering why she would notice such a thing. "Yeah, well..." I lift the book, which has proved to be the most useless from the table and stand to place it back on the shelf. "Umbridge is determined to have us all learn 'Defensive Magical Theory', word for word, cover to cover, which I'm sure I'm capable of doing in my own time."

"And Ancient Runes?" She says, tactfully avoiding her misgivings with Professor Umbridge's teaching methods.

I shrug coming back to my table. "I lost track of time." My hip leans against the tabletop and my arms fold across my chest.

"As I can see." She castes her eyes over the multitude of books cluttering the table. "Big project?"

"Something like that."

She turns one of the books in her direction and I see her eyes quickly scanning the surface. I know that she has had time to read most of the passage before my reflexes kick in and I close the book sharply, barely missing her fingers in my haste. She ignores my actions and instead focuses on what she has just read. "Healing charms?" Concern covers her face as she turns her eyes to me. "You said you were alright."

"I'm fine." I assure her. How can I tell her that it's my lack of injuries which has me worried? "Just a project."

She nods, dejected at my words. Her lips press into a think line and she nods once more in a decisive manor, before saying. "Best leave you to it." She abruptly turns from me, taking a seat at a table and pulling a book from her pack. She opens it to what appears to be a random page and puts hers forehead against her hand hunching over the pages to absorb their knowledge.

I smile sadly at her back. What I wouldn't give to divulge this to her, knowing how amazing her mind can be. I could explain myself and she would know exactly which book I would need to look at. I am certain that she must have read and memorized every single tome on these shelves. Then she might understand my rude, abrupt manor.

She has no idea how many times I have sat and watched her read. Just watched as her eyes danced along the page, her facial expressions changing from word to word as she processes all of the information before her.

I turn towards the books I have laid out. Right now the reason for my good fortune seeming to shrink into insignificance. Her very presence appearing to calm my fears. I feel my bottom lip pull between my teeth, worrying it as I consider my options. My house mates see me as a blood traitor. Information which will leak to their parents and eventually my family. I have very little left in this world to lose. All I would need to do is talk to her.

Something deep inside me begins to compel me to move, dictating my movements as I approach her, almost as if I have no control over my limbs. I do not stop to analyse the compulsion just allow it to steadily carry me to her side.

Slowly I make my way over and take the adjacent seat. Letting her finish her paragraph and giving myself time to think of what I'm going to say. After a very short time she rests her finger against the page, to mark her place and turns to me with questioning eyes. "I..." My pride holds my tongue for a moment and I push it down into my belly needing to get this off my chest. "I miss you Hermione."

A sad smile spreads across her face as she leans back and crosses her arms over her chest. "Don't say that."

"Why not?"

"Because we cannot go back to what we were." Her eyes are pleading with me to let this subject drop. "Whatever that may have been."

I should walk away. I know I should. I have my answer, how else could I possibly damage my ego? I don't know what it is that stops me but I stay rooted to my seat unwilling to let this opportunity pass me by. "What if it were different?"

She takes a moment to consider this. Still resting back, away from me in her seat with her arms folded in a defensive gesture. "How?"

I find myself very close, almost to close, to admitting my true feelings for her. Call it what you will but before this morning I would not have even considered the possibility of revealing that to her. Yet now I find the words on the tip of my tongue, squirming around behind my teeth begging for release. My jaw clenches so tight I can feel it protruding from beneath my skin and I push the new confusing emotion deep into the pit of my stomach.

Her eyes are questioning and I realize I have taken far too long to reply as I battle with myself to decide on exactly what to say. "Would friendship be such a horrible mistake?"

"I don't know." Her shoulders bunch and release slowly. "We were..." She takes a moment and I watch as her eyes dance within their sockets as she chooses the appropriate way to express herself. "We were intimate. I don't know if friendship would be such a good idea."

"Could be a good place to start though."

For the first time in weeks I watch as a genuine smile slowly pulls against the edges of her lips. "Maybe you’re right."
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By The Light