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
- 40
- 41
- 42
Chapter 41

There was a reason I missed Ammy’s constant intrusion into my thoughts. I’m certain of it, at one point I actually wanted her relentless gaze, peering out from behind mine in a way that makes me feel several sorts of insane and there had been a very tangible rationale behind that particular desire. The fact that I cannot put my finger on that right at this moment should not be relevant but it’s all I can think about. It’s different, now I know who and what she is. What she represents. In truth it probably raised more questions than it answered.

I admit that I have a very vague explanation as to why she decided to invade my soul in the manner that she has and I am still trying to work my way through it but the most significant question that I now find myself unable to come to any sort of reasonable answer is: what is so interesting?

If she truly is an entity that transcends time itself, creates life by simply existing. What can I possibly see, or hear, or smell that can possibly have her so enchanted that she must look. What can be there, in my gaze that she has not witnessed a thousand times before?

Normally these, endless, infuriating questions wouldn’t pose much of a problem. A distraction most certainly but not problematic; however on this occasion I have the letter sent to Hermione this morning pressing heavily on my mind. Somehow I must retaliate but with so many avenues available to me it is difficult to decide which would be the most effective and perhaps more importantly which would be the least likely to be traced back to me should an Auror be called in to investigate. Before I can commit to any sort of revenge however I must first try to safeguard myself against any form of pain I or the people around me might face in return.

Through the entirety of the morning and most of the afternoon I have been able to ponder these two quandaries with minimal effort. However Potions class does bring about even more challenges, with the bombardment of stimuli from all angles and the constant feeling that Snape can see right through the veil of disinterest I constantly wear with as much ease staring through a pane of glass. The only evidence he gives me on this occasion is when I drag myself out of a contemplative stupor and immediately find his black, disapproving gaze upon me. He doesn’t make any sort of comment but I still remain behind after class. Promising the three Gryffindors that I will catch up with them at some point before I must descend into the kitchens this evening.

The room is empty before he even takes note of my presence. Still busying himself by throwing cleaning charms at the tabletops in an almost irritated fashion. “I hear you’ve been busy.”

His tone of disapproval voice makes me stop and blink at his back for a moment. What exactly is his asking me? Uncurling my arms from around my chest I push myself to stand and move towards the front of the classroom. He makes no further motion to elaborate or even to look in my direction. Quickly I opt for the safer option and commit myself to only mention my educational transgressions, not wishing to simply hand him all other manner of things I have been involved in as of late. “Umbridge was pushing my buttons, it’s not as if I actually did anything.”

“Do not treat me like a fool.” In a matter of heartbeats he has turned on me and crossed the room with his swooping stride, pushing his face so close to mine that it takes all of my will power to refrain from stepping back. “You know exactly what I’m referring to.”

Not yet willing to give up any ground either physically or metaphorically I try to mould a mask of incomprehension across my face. “Sorry Professor. I don’t think I do.”

He snorts but not in any humorous manner, more like a bull making ready to charge. “You do not make demands,” At this his fist strikes the top of the nearest desk. I feel my shoulders tense ready to defend myself and my eyes instinctually blink at the unexpected noise. “Of the Dark Lord.”

It should surprise me that word reached him so quickly but it doesn’t. On a lot of levels it makes sense that if it had filtered down the ranks all the way to my father in a single day, it would have been minutes before Snape had been informed. “You show your allegiances quite openly Professor.” I say with as little emotion as I can muster, trying to refrain from either confirming or denying any assumptions he may have made.

“An odd comment.” He says, staring into me with his black soulless eyes. “Coming from someone who makes it so obvious they know little of loyalty.” His remark stings enough for me to take a step back, folding my arms over my chest once more but doesn’t burn sufficiently for me to drop my eyes from his. “Tell me Miss Desay, because I am truly interested. Whose side are you on?”

“My own.” My answer is both instantaneous and honest.

His lip pulls up in a shear of disapproval. “Well that certainly explains a few things.” He pushes his closed fists against the top of the desk with such vigour that it slides along the stone a few inches, scraping against the floor; then turns from me in a very dismissive way.

Most of my face creases into a grimace of determination. Normally I would pray for a dismissal so quickly but today I simply refuse to leave this room until I am in possession of what I came for. “I don’t understand why we’re even having this discussion.”

“Of course you don’t.” He says in a very offhanded way.

The blood in my veins begins to boil. In age I may be little more than a child but that does not give him licence to look upon me as an infant. “There is no way in this world or any other that the Dark Lord will grant clemency to a muggle born. So this entire argument is irrelevant.”

“He is considering it.” He turns on the spot, in a flurry of black robes and perches on the very edge of his desk. I can feel his eyes on me, looking over me and into me. Looking for the reaction I’m sure must be plain to see. Nothing can hide that sort of shock and already my mind is running over this statement looking for a way to use it to my advantage, another state of play that until this moment I had completely overlooked. “The position you are in, He’d give almost anything to have you in His pocket.” Now he is trying to creep into my mind, I can feel him skimming the surface. Occlumency was never one of my strongest talents but I still see him flinch when I fill my mind with so many sounds and smells, aided by my advanced senses, I am confident he will not try that a second time. “You didn’t know.” He speaks after he has managed to compose himself.

“Stay out of my thoughts.” I say with as much menace as I can muster, even as I feel Ammy’s amusement slither down my spine. Those words are beginning to become somewhat of a mantra.

“Yes, I will remember that in future.” He pauses, trying to gather as much information from what he is able to see and with exaggerated movements bridges his fingers close to his lips. “Does this change anything?”

Coupled with my discoveries this morning it changes everything but it would be unwise to let him know that. So I completely change the subject. “Whose side are you on Professor?”

I had hoped to push him onto the back foot but the smirk that slides across his crooked features is enough to inform me that he could see right through my ruse. “That does depend on who you ask. And on who’s winning.” In the blink of an eye his entire demeanour has taken an about face. Where before anger and resentment blazed in his eyes, now they twinkle with amusement. “What will you do now?”

“I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.” I reply and clear my throat, hoping we can drive this conversation to the matter at hand. “I have a favour to ask.”

“Just one? You do surprise me.” He pushes off from his desk, somehow satisfied that whatever my next move may be he will be pleased with it. It leads me to wonder how deep he was able to dig into my head for those few seconds before I had noticed his presence. With a curl of his fingers he beckons me to walk behind him over to the store cupboard at the head of the classroom. “Now, how can I be of assistance?” With a dramatic movement he pulls open both doors and steps inside and away from view.

My head rears back slightly as a bony hand, springs from the darkness of the cubbyhole, holding a transparent jar and I only take it in my grasp when his hand moves impatiently. “I need some way of defending myself.” I say in a distracted fashion holding the jam jar up to the light and shaking the viscous liquid inside.

His long, bony fingers wrap around the doorframe followed by his black, curious eyes. “You are competent enough with your wand. Are you not?”

“Yes. When I’m here at Hogwarts.” I watch his thin eyebrow rise a moment before he vanishes behind the doorframe. “Outside of these walls I have rather limited use of my wand.”

“Which will only be made worse by your disorder.” He says and a closed wooden box is presented for me to take from within the darkness.

I take the object in my free hand and the only reason I don’t take a peek inside is because with two fully laden hands I am unable to. “Exactly, there has to be some way that I can safeguard myself without one.”

He exits the gloom of his cupboard and hands me three jars in rapid succession, forcing me to quickly balance each object on an arm I have pulled across my body. “You anticipate being attacked in the summer holidays?” He says with a disinterested air about his tone but the way his eyes cut to me when the doors are closed are enough to let me know that he is committed to this discussion.

“Oh yes, definitely.” I say and immediately know that it will not be an adequate response for the potions master. He beckons me back over to his desk and very suddenly I realise that I have been used as a mule but can’t find the energy to address it any further than sending a scathing glare in his direction. “I anticipate that I will antagonise someone enough for them to come after me.”

“Your father I presume.” He says and I can feel his eyes on my crown as I nod to the affirmative, slowly unloading the ingredients onto his desk. “How do you think you will provoke him?”

“By breathing.” I answer instantaneously. Nothing I do now will ever sway me from a conflict with my father. All I can really do now is, attempt to prepare for the enviable and irritating him into such a state that he does something fundamentally stupid. It’s much more difficult long range but not impossible.

“Well, I suppose it would be useless to ask you to stop doing that.” He says with more mirth in his voice than I can ever remember hearing. He takes a jar from the desk and unscrews the lid, dipping his nose inside and sniffing the contents before flinching away. Even I have to hold my breath until he screws the lid back on. “There are some forms of magic that do not require the use of a wand. Not really spells, more like blessings and rituals. Highly complex usually and it would be very difficult to use any such things aggressively.”

My eyes stay on his hands as he arranges the objects in front of him in an order that must have some form of significance to him but means very little to me. “And where might I find more in-depth information on these blessings?”

“On the shelf behind me.” His eyes are on his desk but he still smiles when every muscle in my body tenses, wanting to reach for the aforementioned book but not yet having the permission to do so. “You can take it with you, but you must promise to be careful.”

“I’m always careful Professor.” Within moments I have the offered book in my hands and I am leaving the classroom. Screwing my eyes closed the moment the door shuts behind me to try and push down the pounding that has settled over my forehead and behind my eyes.

‘What was all that about?’ Ammy asks the moment we are alone in the hallway.

“That?” I say, hearing my voice echo back at me, wishing I might have a physical being that I could speak to not just the words that spring up inside my skull. “I did something a little bit stupid and very short sighted.”

She chooses some unintelligible syllables as a form of understanding. ‘And why would you do that?’

I shrug, pulling my lower lip between my teeth, already knowing the best move I can make against my father. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Execution is key, timing isn’t, and an opportunity won’t be difficult to come across. Its dinnertime, dinner would be perfect. All those witnesses, all unwittingly keeping me safe, from any physical harm at least. That means I can make my play and the effect could be completed by the end of the day, then I might not need to worry myself over tomorrows morning mail. Spurred into action I push myself off from the oak door, plotting the shortest route to the Great Hall.

‘Are you going to tell me why we are rushing?’ She asks after a few steps.

“Later.” I promise once again, far too distracted with planning out the entire confrontation all the way to the Great Hall.

When I step through the high door way I coast my eyes over the Gryffindor table, just to locate my friends so I can make a hasty retreat, unfortunately Harry catches my eye and tilts his head in a silent question, asking why I have taken to standing at the doorway as opposed to joining them. I don’t really give him any sort of response. I can’t be the person he knows and with such little preparation it would be unwise to slip out of character for even a moment.

So I completely ignore him as he presses an elbow into Ginny’s arm and turn towards the Slytherin table. Skirting along the sidewall and leaning over heavily when I reach Draco, one hand closed into a lose fist and resting on the table inches from his pate and my chest so close to his back that I give him a sense of claustrophobia. Careful to keep my voice low I try to force as much menace into my voice as I possibly can. “Call that protection?”

His whole torso twists and I find myself far too close to him for comfort so I take a step back and give him enough space to turn on me completely. “What are you blathering on about Desay?”

“Don’t pull the stupid act with me Draco.” I say through gritted teeth knowing that my poker face far outweighs his. I’ll let him get to this conclusion by himself because, I know he can and this way it has a bigger impact. “Next time you want to come at me, you don’t go through someone else, because if it happens again, I might be a little less forgiving.” With that I turn to walk away, and only get half as far as I expect before his iron grip is closed over my upper arm and twisting me around.

There’s a strange look on his face, something I’ve never seen there before. Somewhere between confusion and fear, it looks so out of place on Draco’s features, that if I hadn’t had so much control over myself in this moment I might have begun to laugh. “You do not walk away from me half breed.”

“Is that a fact?” I ask stepping closer and resting my hand over my wand in the same motion.

I must have the desired effect on him because he swallows his terror before he begins to speak. “I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.” His eyes cut to the side, just to see who is within earshot and must be satisfied that he is safe to continue because makes he makes no effort to whisper. “Whatever has happened, we can fix it.”

“Fix it? Do you have any idea what a Stygian symbol could potentially do?”

He snorts in laughter that I might think him so stupid and manages to say, “Of course I do.” Just moments before it dawns on him exactly what I’ve just told him and his whole face drops. It’s a satisfying sight I can tell you. “It wasn’t us.”

“I don’t believe you.” With a half shrug I begin to turn and I am already anticipating his physical restraint on my arm.

Desperation clouds his grey eyes, and he doesn’t release his grasp even when I look down at the offending appendage. I watch quietly as he begins to panic, showing me far more cards than he had planned to in its wake. “It wasn’t us. I’ll swear it on Salazar Slytherin himself. We didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“So what you’re saying is, that He can’t keep one miserly idiot in line long enough to seal a deal.” My words have him almost choking on his own breath. “I fail to see how he is going to manage that with the rest of you.”

“He’ll find a way.” He’s imploring look and anxious voice aren’t working on me, very quickly he picks up on this, his whole face lighting up in a smile as he attempts another tactic. “Don’t let this one occurrence,” I notice his facial tick as he tries to find the perfect word to down play the event. “Spoil such a mutely benefited arrangement. He is all powerful and he will make sure everyone falls in line with our agreement.”

“Malfoy.” I say slowly. “There isn’t any agreement.” Glancing down at his hand that still holds me steady I reach out and take his wrist in my palm. Pushing the bones together in a way that I know from experience to be painful and forcibly remove his restraining grip from me. “Not anymore.” This time when I go to move away he makes no attempt to stop me. And cannot see the smile of satisfaction slowly spread across my face as I walk away.

I strategically place myself at the Gryffindor table with my back to Draco so I do not have the temptation to glace over at him. If he were to see that the whole game would be up and I would have to find another piece to move when this one is so perfect I am loath to lose its effectiveness. Word will quickly get to the Dark Loud and eventually they will figure out who sent that letter to Hermione. If He is truly so desperate for the information I might be able to gather on Harry I don’t think He would be too pleased that one of His followers had been the reason for me to retract my offer so abruptly. It places my father in a very precarious position and if the Dark Lord doesn’t kill him, it should at least keep him busy for the time being.

When I am seated I place my elbows on the tabletop and lace my fingers, pressing my lips against them and try to drop the menacing armour I have just shown to Draco. With how much practice I have had as of late it should be a simple matter of striping it away but I find myself having to remove it piece by piece before I dare look at any of my friends. Not wanting to subject them to what I might say or do while in that frame of mind.

“What was all that about?” I hear Hermione ask carefully from across the table.

“Depends.” I mumble against the sides of my hands. “Don’t make it obvious but is he still looking at me?”

“Yeah,” Ginny answers, and I fear that she may have been less then inconspicuous in her glance. She does tend to have the tact of a heard of unicorns but at least it would be characteristic of her. “Looks like a bit like a fish out of water actually.” I feel myself grin at the same moment I hear worry in Ginny’s voice. “Does that make a difference?”

“More than you know.” I answer only just feeling that it is safe to open my eyes and meet her gaze. “Things are moving into place quite nicely.”

“You’re doing that thing again.” Ginny comments, entirely ignoring the shoulder shove sent her way from Hermione. “That thing where you’re really scary.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” I take up a pitcher of pumpkin juice to fill my goblet, more as a distraction from the table than any need to quench my thrust.

“You’ve seen her like this before?” Harry asks with a weary expression on his face and it does make me wonder if I truly change so much when I am interactive with different people on different levels. Before I had thought it to be quite subtle, mostly internal, my train of thought only. That the outwards signs had always been intentional, carefully calculated for maximum effect. Apparently that isn’t the case.

“Well,” Ginny says stretching out the word, going as far as to rub her palm over the back of her neck to show her discomfort with the change in discussion. “Just the once.” She shrugs and snaps her attention to me to avoid Harry’s inquisitive eyes. “So are you going to tell us what all that was about? Or are we going to have to guess?” Her elbow hits the table and she extends her index finger in my direction. Trying to appear threatening and failing in the attempt. “Now just remember, I have a very over active imagination.”

“Oh don’t I know it.” If all the nicknames she came up with for Hermione are anything to go by that I dread to think what she might cook up for this. The problem I face now is that I have no opportunity to go into any sort of detail. Not without losing all of these people in the process and that kind of defeats the object of the exercise. “Don’t worry too much about it Ginny, just rooks and bishops. Clutches and ladders. That sort of thing.”

She goes to speak, leaning heavily on the table and piercing her first two fingers and thumb together. Her eyes squint in a show of concentration and I am twitching to reach for my wand, just to make sure she has not been hit by some sort of curse when she beings to speak very slowly. “You’re…” She pauses closing one of her eyes entirely, trying to understand but at the same time trying very hard not to look stupid as she explains it. “You’re playing a game?”

“To some extent, yes.” Somewhere amidst the chaos of the room I smell Snape’s arrival to the Great Hall and upon turning my head I find his gaze is already upon me. Well it certainly looks that way but I wouldn’t be surprised if he were much more interested in the black haired boy sitting next to me. I wonder briefly if my latest maneuver would find approval with him then find myself shocked that I care for such things. “All of life is a game. Every conversation, every confrontation they all have objectives and rules. It’s just a question of how you play.”

Harry makes a noise in the back of his throat before drawing breath to answer. “That actually. Sort of makes sense. In a very distorted way.”

Hermione remains conspicuously quiet, finding her meal the most interesting thing in the room. I’m sure it will be discussed later and who knows I might tell her exactly what just transpired between Draco and I, heavily edited of course but she does have a knack for dragging the truth out of me.

Ginny takes an entirely different approach in her quest to pry me open and see just exactly how I work. Her nails find her scalp and she scratches at it, in some strange attempt to understand. “I still don’t get it. If all life is a game, does that mean you don’t take it seriously?”

I find myself laughing at her question. Not because it’s particularly funny but because the thought that I don’t take these long distance battles seriously is absolutely absurd. “Just because it’s a game, doesn’t mean I don’t play to win.”

Someone swiftly changes the subject to a much lighter conversation and we become juvenile. Insults flying all over the place and I allow myself to relax for the first time in days. Confident that I have set things in motion that will soon pay off but all I can do now is wait, prepare, and scheme. Something I decide I can leave for another day. Happy just to exist, just and be a normal teenager, just for a few hours longer. It does help to clear my mind. And I had thought that I had finally been able to force events around me to move in a direction that would become advantageous to me.

That is until one Professor Dolorous Umbridge discovered the existence of Dumbledore’s Army.
- 40
- 41
- 42
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

By The Light