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
- 41
- 42
- 43
A/N: Yes, I know we’ve already done this bit. But we did in a single chapter what probably should have taken two or three. That was my fault I rushed and it was visible. Not only that it was fucking terrible. So I printed it off, ripped it up and threw it into the air. After cleaning up that mess I re wrote it.

So this is what’s going to happen, I am going to humbly apologise because you deserve better. Better than rushing through it trying to get it finished. Then I’m going to promise to never do that again. And if I do you have full license to tell me that it sucks beyond belief.

So here we go again, chapter 42… with a better pacing.

Chapter 42

Studiously, I showed up to my detention on time. Not early, not late; at exactly five o’clock I knocked on the High Inquisitor’s door. Not a moment before because every moment I spend in the vile woman’s presence threatens to throw me into deep waters and if I keep doing that I’m sure to drown. The smile on her face should have tipped me off as she used her body to block my view into her office, closing the door behind her; the way she made no move to try and bait me but still smiling her sickly sweet smile anyway. She didn’t say anything, didn’t bother to show me her sadistic pleasure of explaining the task she had set me yet again, didn’t even make any attempt to take my wand from me, not even with the conspicuous absence of Dobby. Just took me to the kitchens and left me to it.

I had thought the behaviour odd to be sure but didn’t dwell on it, just scratched my scalp a decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I pulled up my sleeves and set about scrubbing dirty dishes, which without the company of the friendly elf did make the task much more laborious and not just because after about an hour he snaps his fingers and does it for me.

I’m not entirely certain how long I stood there but I know my hands were wricked, my back was aching and I still wasn’t even half way through the pile of cutlery before anyone came into the room. The sight of Draco standing at the door with a smug grin across his face was surprising to say the least.

He slowly stalks over with his air of superiority firmly in place. Not a trace of the earlier desperation I saw in his grey eyes to be found. I had tried to ignore him, returning to my chore and even managed to keep my eyes down when he leans his hip against the basin. “Enjoying yourself Desay?” He says, his tone mocking.

“I didn’t think students were not permitted in the kitchen,” I reach out with a dripping plate in my hand and put it on the draining board with much more vigour than was strictly necessary. Throwing bubbles and lukewarm water all over my housemate, making him step back and brush furiously at his robes. “At least not without expressed permission.”

He pulls on his lapels in annoyance and loosely keeps it in his grasp, composing his stance and sending me the most menacing of smirks. “I have permission.” His eyes then run the length of my body the tip of his tongue held between his teeth and I remove my hands from the hot water to turn on him. Never before has he look upon me like that, it makes me nervous and twitchy, especially now when I had so recently made him feel so small. “I’m supposed to come and get you but I kind of like watching you doing menial tasks.”

“Alright.” I say violently shaking off my hands and reaching for the dishcloth to dry them. “I yield, why do you look so pleased with yourself?” I try to sound unaffected as I turn and keep my eyes on my hands, but him being down here can only spell bad things for me, especially when I am unable to wipe that sanctimonious smile from his face.

“Oh, I’ve just had a very productive evening.” He says and he curls his tongue behind his bottom lip and practically leers at me. “Shall we go?”

“Go where?” I ask keeping my feet firmly rooted to the floor. He doesn’t say anything, just turns his back on me showing me he does not preserve me as a threat. “Draco.” I call out to the empty room and throw the tea towel against the drying cutlery. “I’m quite capable of navigating the castle myself. If you just tell me where I’m needed, I’ll hardly need an escort.”

He bunches a single shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s much more fun this way.” He takes a moment to bite his lip and run his eyes over me in a manner that makes me ready to draw my wand and hex him so deeply into a coma that he misses his OWLS. “Come on.” He says with a sideways movement of his head and once more turns his back.

With a heavy sigh I begrudgingly follow the Slytherin Prefect from the room and remain a half step behind, as I am lead through the castle, it doesn’t take long for me to notice that I am retracing my steps from earlier. Travelling back to Umbridge’s office and I’m not enough of an optimist to think we might just walk past to some other, less distasteful part of the castle; all the while having to watch the spring in the blond boys step.

He’s attempting to unnerve me with his glee and I’m sorry to say that it is working as not many things can provoke this reaction in him. He’s still wearing a lopsided grin as he knocks carefully on Umbridge’s door and even goes so far as to open it when the squeak of “come in” travels from the other side.

With the acute sense that Draco is once more leading me straight to the gallows I enter the room, trying to ignore the sickening amount of kittens that litter the walls and countertops. Cute little balls of fur don’t usually make the hairs along the back of my neck stand to attention but when the obsession of this woman is so far removed from her personality it gives them a menacing air. A sense of false security before everything explodes.

To the side of the door stands Professor McGonagall, her arms crossed and her back ramrod straight. The hardness in her eyes and the tight line of her lips making her look, if at all possible, even more stern than I am accustomed to. I cannot fathom what I could have possibly done to annoy the head of Gryffindor house and it doesn’t make me any less nervous. If she’s here to witness some form of punishment then she must think it necessary.

I swallow down the lump forming in my throat and turn my eyes back to the High Inquisitor. Who is currently speaking to a dumpy little man, who does look somewhat familiar but his features are as such that he is quite unremarkable and I simply cannot place him. When she turns to me she actually had to look twice, as if she hadn’t sent an escort and had no reason to expect me to be here. “Ah, Miss Desay, please come in.” The civility in her voice makes my blood run cold and my muscles cease up. “Come in.” She says with a little less patience after I fail to move. Stepping a little further in I change a glance at the deputy head and see her eyes lit up with a fiery rage that, judging by her trembling, she is finding difficult to control.

“You wanted to see me Professor?” I say hoping that she hadn’t noticed the slight waver in my voice. Slowly I bring my arms around my back and clutch one hand in the other. This stance does two very important things; it makes me look very attentive and places my hands close to my wand.

“Yes.” She says slowly, and squeaks with excitement. “Do sit down, dear.”

Now I know I’m in trouble, it doesn’t matter what I may or may not have done there is no way I am leavening this room unscathed. I don’t want to take a seat it would move my hands away from my back pocket, and to rearrange myself would look suspicious but she keeps looking at me expectantly. Without any reason to stay on my feet I am forced to slowly walk around the chair in the centre of the room and after delaying it as long as possible I pull at my trouser legs and take a seat.

She looks over the top of my head as she takes a perch at the edge of her desk. “You don’t need to stay Minerva.”

“Oh I think I will,” The deputy head says not losing her ridged pose, “you’ve already manhandled one of my students this evening, I’ll be damned if I let you do it again.” I release a small breath at the tone of her voice. Whatever has made her so angry at least I can rest assured that it is nothing to do with me.

“Your students?” Umbridge says and waits a few moments for McGonagall to correct herself, however they both allow the silence to stretch on and with every breath the tension thickens. Umbridge is the first to break, giving one of her fake coughs and dropping her eyes from the stern woman standing close to the door. Then her attention is firmly fixed back on me and I try to meet her gaze through every second, paying little mind to the tremors that have settled all across my shoulders. “We recently procured this.” She takes a strip of parchment from her desk, holding the top edge and presenting it for me to see. She watches my grip tighten on the arms of the chair as I steadfastly refuse to touch it. “Do you know what it is?”

From the moment I saw Hermione’s handwriting across the top I knew what it was. It’s that list that I couldn’t put my name on. It’s the name of every person in Dumbledore’s Army and indisputable proof that we had been breaking the law. “It looks like a list.” I say, trying to remain calm. If she had anything concrete she would already have me packing my bags or worse.

“Yes we had managed to deduce that.” She says sharply and for the first time I see her truly lose her composure and I tilt my head to the side in interest. She doesn’t have anything on me and if how quickly her mask slipped is anything to go by she doesn’t have much on anyone else either. She’s brought me here because there is no way I can know how much she has already been able to uncover and she hopes to trick me into revealing more than I should. “However there is this mark here…” She uses her index finger to point out the small symbol I had drawn so many months ago. “That we are having a little trouble in identifying.”

“Looks a bit like an ‘X’. I don’t think I know of any students name starting with that letter.” I say. It actually looks a bit more like a star. Three lines crossed through at the centre but playing dumb is the best weapon in my arsenal at the moment.

“I hardly think it would be an initial.” She pushes it closer until the crisp parchment almost brushes my nose. “Take a closer look.”

Fortunately, lying is something I excel in. So after dropping my eyes to the symbol and taking a moment to look thoughtful I slowly shake my head. “Sorry professor, I’ve never seen it before.”

“You’re certain.” She asks, leaning still closer, so close in fact that I feel her breath ghosting across my cheek and have to restrain myself from forcibly pushing her away from me. She watches me nod and leans back, placing the parchment back onto her desk. “That is a pity.” She says in a disapproving tone, and her heels click with every step as she goes around the other side of her desk. “Still, no matter. I was just telling the Minister about your little violent episode at the Quidditch pitch.”

Everything inside of me drops a few inches, my heart, my stomach, my throat, everything. Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, I knew I recognised him. The most bigoted Minister to serve in over a hundred years and here I am sitting in front of him with wolf’s blood flowing through my veins, purposely, even if subtly, being defiant.

“Yes.” The Minister says slowly, his eyes raking over me in a way that I find less than comforting. “We had been discussing that.”

“We’ve been having a little bit of a disagreement you see.” She says and the corners of her mouth climb impossibly high, making every inch of my skin crawl. “I said that it was an isolated incident. That you’re a model student and you’d be able to shed some light on this, list.” Even as she speaks she flicks her finger at the corner of the parchment. “It does appear that I was wrong. And as my first act as Headmistress for this school…”

I lean forward in my seat cutting off her speech. “I’m sorry, I must have misheard. Could you repeated that Professor?” My voice is shaking and I’m making no effort to stop it.

“As I was saying, my first act as Headmistress will be to remove such a dangerous…” She pauses, just long enough to have every iota of my attention before she continues, “animal from the rest of the student body.”

Feeling numb, from the tips of my fingers to the soles of my feet I fall against the backrest and try to remember how to breathe. “You’re expelling me.”

“Oh no. Whatever gave you that idea?” Umbridge begins to laugh and the Minster of Magic begins to chuckle along with her. “Nothing so sinister. We’re just going to limit your contact with, people.”

McGonagall takes a few steps forward and I feel her hand close over my shoulder. I’m not certain if she is trying to keep me upright or show some form of support but I am grateful for both. “That isn’t exactly humane, Dolores.”

“Well,” She begins lacing her fingers together. “She’s not exactly human, Minerva.” Their gazes lock for several moments, some unspoken battle raging between them.

“I think that’s a splendid idea.” The clueless Minister chimes in and either misses or chooses to ignore the seething look sent in his direction by the deputy head. He’s far too busy grinning down at me.

A look of absolute joy spreads across Umbridge’s face and she gives an uncontrollable squeak with such vigour it raises her from her seat a few inches before she settles herself. “Now Draco, if you would be so kind.”

“I hardly think that will be necessary.” McGonagall cuts in, pulling her robes straight to show her discomfort. Her grip tightens on my shoulder and slowly my eyes rise up and along the tall woman’s body, when my gaze reaches her piercing pools of emerald she curtly tilts her head in an indication for me to follow her.

Slowly I stand, needing to use the full force of my arms because my knees are shaking so much they refuse to cooperate. I’m, half way out the door when a soft sound of ‘Hem hem’ can be heard from behind the desk and once again each of my muscles clench. I turn my head, hoping that I will not have to re-enter the room. Umbridge has angled her features in such a way that she is able to look down her nose at me even with her head so much lower than mine, if it were anyone else I might commend the achievement. Her long nail taps reputedly against her desk in a show of impatience, making one of my eyes twitch to the maddening rhythm. “Aren’t we forgetting something?” I can feel the look of question spread across my face. “Your wand.”

Rage is a strange emotion, I don’t know if it’s the same with other people but when it hits me, it hits hard and fast. Sometimes you can try for hours to prod at me, looking for a reaction and I can let it roll off me, show you that it has no effect because it doesn’t, not really. Then other times, like right now, it can take but a single word and then all I can see is red. Blazing and hot, calling for some form of retribution.

Two strides, that’s all it takes and I am leaning over, my wand held tightly in my grasp. Both hands hit the desk and over my ragged breaths I meet her gaze. I could, it would be so easy, all I would need to do is flick my wrist and take something from her. Her mobility, her sight, I even briefly consider her life; even with these witnesses. Because in my mind, riddled and fogged with anger, every second of incarceration would be worth it, just to see if she would be surprised or not.

For several long moments I just stand and stare at her, picking out her heartbeat amongst the group of people. It faltered as my fists struck the solid mahogany but other than that it has remained steady. Now I cannot decide if she truly has no fear, or if she cannot fathom exactly how dangerous I can be; werewolf or not. Which makes her either insane or a fool.

She continues to remain quiet, slowly and calmly leaning back in her seat. Daring me to do something, anything in front of the Minister of Magic himself, whom I might add is feeling a twinge of fear over my reaction. I can smell it, I can taste it, heavy and thick in the air. I don’t know if it’s the instincts of the wolf or my own heartless character but it makes my mouth water.

Something inside me, some tiny spark of rationalisation, holds my shaking hand still and keeps any hexes or curses out of my mind and far from the tip of my tongue, removing the temptation completely.

I truly do not know if I win or lose the silent skirmish between Umbridge and me. Or even the war that is happening within my very skin but I end up flinging my wand at her and storming from the room. Pulling the door closed behind me with so much vigour that it shudders on its hinges. I don’t give it a second glance or even wait for the consequences of my actions to hit, I just march down the corridor, in the vague direction of the broom cupboard that has been cleared out and called my quarters.

“That was hardly the cleverest way to handle that.” McGonagall starts and even though she has to jog every other step to keep up with my furious stride it does not show in either her stance or voice.

“No it wasn’t.” I agree, cutting my gaze back towards the Transfiguration teacher. “But what else can she do to me?” Sharply I step to the side and turn the corner.

Her long fingers cut into my flesh and she puts a burning grip to my upper arm and stops me mid-step. “It may seem that way now but she cannot hold you indefinably.” She lets out a long breath through her nose and brings herself much closer to me, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I am not the only member of staff that does not agree with this. Rest assured it will not be like this forever.”

I can feel the fatigue building in my veins that always follows such an outburst. “She’s appointed herself Headmistress. A title you should hold Professor. She’s also the school’s High Inquisitor. A position created just to give her power. Tell me please, how do you fight that?”

Her lips press into a tight, thin line and she lowers her gaze to the floor, without an answer, without any ray of genuine hope, all she can do is look away. I don’t wait for her to respond, guilt weighing heavily on my shoulders at making her feel so helpless. So I turn and just keep walking, granted at a much slower, much more resigned pace then before but I still keep moving, slumping towards the enviable. McGonagall is quickly a silent presence at my side and when I reach my rooms the alterations have already been made.

The door stands slightly ajar, a shiny gold lock having been added to the ageing wood. Clearly they were able to break through my basic wards but when I reach the opening I find the room itself untouched.

Slowly I walk beneath the threshold and take another look at the damp walls, my knees already beginning to twinge in protest.

“Is there anything I can get you, before…?” The deputy head asks indicating the door.

“The key?” I say attempting at a jest; it does pull at her cheeks in a tight, sad smile. “Can you get a message to Hermione for me?”

“Of course I can.” She says, all manner of anger she held only moments ago melting away leavening her sombre. “Is there anything special you’d like me to tell her?”

I consider this for only a moment before remembering that this woman is my teacher and significantly older than me, it would not do to have her see me as weak or dare I say sappy. “Just what happened. They’re all safe aren’t they?” I ask, the fate of the other members only just dawning on me.

She nods slowly. “It was why the Headmaster had to leave so suddenly.” She laces her fingers together and holds her arms down rigidly, glaring daggers at the door, shifting from foot to foot and clearing her throat giving me the distinct impression that she is delaying closing me in for as long as she is able.

“It’s okay professor,” I begin trying to alleviate some tension and to some extent her remorse and take a seat on the bed. I am able to ignore its loud creak but it makes her eyebrows shoot up. “It could be worse.” Although, at this very moment I can’t actually think exactly how it could be any worse, while I still remain in the castle, I’m sure I’ll have enough time to think about it though.

Her hand closes over the shiny gold lock and slowly begins to swing it closed. Not having to lift it from the floor, so someone must have taken the time to repair the hinge. Strange how now that it is no longer part of my living quarters how noticeable it is because it was so fitting that even the door was so withered with age that couldn’t function properly. Wouldn’t have exactly made for a secure cell though would it?

Her shining eyes are the last thing I see, dropping my head into my waiting hands the moment I hear the lock slide into place. Throwing the room into shadows and at once I wish that I had requested the deputy head to light a candle for me before she departed.

‘That could have gone better.’ Ammy comments as we both listen to McGonagall’s heels clicking along the stone flooring.

I go to heave a sigh but end up laughing. The absurdity of the situation finally settling in and I have no choice but the laugh or cry. The latter I’m not even certain I would survive without Hermione’s guidance. “No it couldn’t.” I mumble sliding my hands down my face and pulling the skin taught. “Not with her running the school.” Honestly I’m surprised I managed to escape that room with little more than a snide, passive reprimand and this imprisonment. “Could almost count myself lucky.”

‘Can we do nothing?” She queries, an edge to her voice that I’ve never heard before, somewhere between nervous and fearful.

My eyes land on the shiny new locking mechanism holding me here, even going as far as to reach out and touch the cold smooth surface. The tips of my fingertips press against the edges of the keyhole, not quite large enough for any of my digits to fit inside and tamper with the device, but still a substantial enough size to be imposing. I feel certain that it was the whole point of the design. “Not without a wand. Even then I don’t know if I would have the skill for something like this.”

She makes a low sound of either disappointment or deep contemplation and in this instance she is the first to fall into an uneasy silence. Even though I can feel her quickly becoming disquieted, somewhere along my spine and deep in the back of my head, I am left to my own thoughts, which is a dangerous concept in itself.

Already I can feel my skin being to crawl. It always happens but usually it takes longer. That feeling that there is no escape, no way out. Eventually the creepy feeling will stop and I’ll wonder why I ever cursed it, it’s so much more bearable than the strange psychological weight my mind places over my chest. Halting breath and movement, even coherent thought. Needing to push those depressing images away, as I can already begin to feel the first effect I push against my knees to stand. Muscles twitching and pulling, by now knowing what is in store for them, already protesting what is to come.

Lifting my hands above my head they are forced into a stretch and I try to extend the bounders of my imagination. I need something to occupy my mind as where it leads my body will follow. I have enough experience to know that. At that thought I pull up short, I am well versed the process of slowly going stir crazy but never before has it come about in such a short space of time, which begs the question, “Is that you or me?” She makes a low hum in the back of my head in indicate she is listening but makes no further comment. “That almost burning need to be free.”

‘Could be you, could be I. Then again it could be both of us. So much to feel in just one skin.’ She says slowly, her voice taking on a majestic edge.

“If that’s the case,” I begin pulling at my chair and taking a seat, now faced with a philosophical quandary that I know given sufficient incentive I can pour enough energy into, to almost forget about my surroundings. Strange to think that if I were not presented with an undefined amount of time without only Ammy for company I would never have the courage to ask, “Where do I end and you begin?”

‘At the beginning and end of us both.’ She says then pauses. Not for any effect but just to see how I would perceive her words. In truth I am uncertain how I should react to such a concept, that we could possibly both be one entity yet somehow completely separate.

“Must you always be so cryptic?” I reach behind me for my wand to light a candle and only when I am met with thin air, I then remember that it has been removed from about my person. Sighing in frustration I take a seat at my desk, curling my hands into fists and resting my chin upon them.

She heaves a long-suffering sigh that I very almost duplicate before answering me. ‘Must you always ask questions that I have no answer too?’

“You’re a goddess.” I remark, still trying to come up with some why of striking a flame. I know the book that Professor Snape gifted me is in my trunk but the small amount of light filtering in beneath the door is hardly enough for me to read by. Did she have to take my wand?

‘Some things are a mystery to even us.’ She comments and I feel her curious touch beneath my skin as she explores my frustration. ‘What troubles you?’

“I don’t suppose with all the raw power of the sun you could light a candle?”

I almost have the impression that she holds herself back from laughing judging by the titter laced throughout her voice. ‘Not while confined to the body of a mortal. You humans are quite limited in that regard.”

Making a sound low in the back of my throat I lean back against the old withered chair, ignoring the shift of wood and press the heal of each palm deep into my eyes. “I keep forgetting you’re only here to keep me alive.”

‘I have already served my purpose, I can do little more now that task is completed.’

“What?” Her words push me forward so my weight rests much more firmly on the soles of my feet.

‘I came to you so you could survive the fall and the attack of the wolf that made you.’ She states very slowly. Sounding certain that I should already be aware of this. ‘Did I not make this clear?’

“No.” I may not have actively analysed what her presence would mean for my survival, I think I had just naturally assumed that she would keep me alive until I had outlived my usefulness. Then she could simply throw me away, never had I thought that this gift of life had only been valid for a single time. Only just now, am I coming to the conclusion that Ammy cannot understand that I am unable to simply pick the answers from her mind as and when I choose. So I must poke and prod until I have wrangled every nugget of truth that I need, piece by piece. “But you’re a goddess.” I repeat again, always coming back to that one fact thinking that it should be the answer to everything, clearly it’s a little more convoluted than that.

‘But you are not.’ I feel her sorrow deep in the pit of my belly, unsettled that she must have this conversation with me, the feeling probably extenuated by our current circumstances. ‘Accept my apologies I thought you understood. I inhabit parts of you but while in this form, I am not physical in any sense of the word. Nothing more than… than…’ I can almost feel her searching for an adequate metaphor and if she had eyes I am certain they would have found the ceiling in search of inspiration. ‘Than, a whisper in your ear, a presence in your mind. My abilities are restricted to my form not yours and neither of us are currently inhabiting that.’

I can feel myself protesting even before my tongue begins to move. It clambers up my throat in a desperate bid to be heard, to try and go back to that blissful ignorance that as shrouded me for the past days. “But the sun heals me. It did heal me. I watched it.”

The noise she makes might once have been a word, or at the very least the beginnings of one before she choked to keep it back. ‘That is a little more complex.’ She pauses and I’m uncertain if she can feel the shift in my facial features for her to continue or if she simple decides to fill the silence that my shock has left behind. ‘The sun and I have a unique relationship. As such magic’s will bleed into one another, it will seek me and this does supply you with a modicum of protection, but demise even when reaping the full benefits of that is still very possible. I thought you were aware of this.’

“I only know what you tell me.” I answer once more leaning back and even going so far as to lift my feet and cross them over the surface of the desk. Almost confident that if the chair does eventually succumb to the weight, I am forced to sit so close to the bed that it will catch me should I fall anyway.

It takes me a moment but I manage force down the initial panic that this revelation had provoked, looking at it objectively and if I’m honest it’s not so much of a drawn back as my initial fright had insisted. It’s no different than when I had been completely human. Where before I would be forced to wait for another witch or wizard to heal all my ills now I must just pass the time until the sun rises. Just one more thing I will have to learn to live with.

Somewhere at the very edges of my perception a steady rhythm catches my attention, I don’t know why I pick out that one sound in the chaos around the school. Considering how much of the activity going on even now that I am able to hear with such clarity that I might as well be in the room, it’s this one sound that latches onto my attention and will not let go. Footsteps, steady and lethargic somehow I know that they are coming here, which is absurd they could be going anywhere in the castle but something about that rhythm, where those shoes strike off stone in this very moment. Somehow it all equates to that person making their way here and once my ears zero in on the specific location so does my nose.

One breath and then another but still I do not wholly recognise the scent. That’s not to say I’m not familiar with it, the name of its owner on the very tip of my tongue but the harder I try to grasp onto it the quicker it is chased away.

I’m not exactly left in suspense for very long, already on my feet when a key is fitted into the lock and so close to the door when it begins to turn that I might as well press myself against it. For a fleeting instant I contemplate shoving sharply against the door and fleeing the castle but with no way of reaching anywhere I would deem safe that particular impulse is squashed relatively easily.

When the door swings open I feel my eyes close in annoyance. Before me with her wand outstretched in such a pose that I find it laughable that she truly thinks she looks imposing stands Nancy Ivybridge. Another Slytherin, in my year, a half blood but such a devote follower of the Dark Lord’s teachings would never give up that information freely. Though I have shared a bedroom with the girl for four years I don’t think any exchange we have ever had pass between us could be considered wholly civil, every passing word laced with a threat or a deprecating tone. Something I confess is completely my doing.

The reason for my annoyance is this. She can see me. Every move I make, every sly word in another’s ear. She has always been able to see me doing it, not necessarily why or what outcome I hoped to achieve but when I was manipulating the people around me into a position of my design she would always be there to notice what I had done. Able to look beyond the shadows I had cloaked myself in.

“Hello Desay.” She says, her voice I’m certain is only grating to me because of how much she had been able to scupper my plans in the past.

Even after grunting to dislodge a scathing reply I am able to remain polite. “Nancy. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She gives a short of laughter, seeing right through the manoeuvre as she always does and even my civil tongue will not give her cause to lower her weapon. “Come on.”

“What? No pleasantries?” Even as I make my comment I obey the command. Stepping out and letting her reach out to close the door behind me.

“Stay in front of me.” She says, flicking the end of her wand to indicate the direction I should begin to travel. Where she may not be the best witch when it comes to actually casting spells she is very astute at keeping herself safe in situations like this.

I don’t try for any further conversation, it’s pointless, instead I follow the clipped instructions that are fed to me and end up in the girl’s bathroom on the ground floor. She presses her back against the door, presumably to prevent us from being disturbed and simply says. “You have twenty minutes.”

“You can be a heartless bitch, can’t you?” I say, all pretence at trying to remain yielding and pleasant forgotten. It is just a waste of energy, so instead I try to see if I can unsettle her by playing the game by her rules. I don’t even meet her eyes after I have spoken, finding the hands of my watch far more interesting, if I’m to have such a short stretch of time to use the amenities each day, I’ll be dammed before I lose a single second.

Her presence may be somewhat disturbing as I relive myself and then make a point of filling the sink with hot water to rinse my face as well as my hands, but I try not to let that fact show too much. Cupping the water in both of my hands I bring it to my cheeks and upon hearing her heavily sigh in frustration that I would take so long, I shot her a glare from under my eyebrows, a tiny fleck of silver catching my attention at the same time. “That’s a nice badge. Is it new?” My words may in some circles be perceived as friendly but there isn’t a person alive that would say the tone of my voice is such.

“Why are you looking at my chest?” She says and my muscles freeze for a moment at the implications of her words.

With droplets of water still sliding along my cheeks and dripping off my chin I turn to her with what I know to be a deeply confused expression. “What?”

For the first time she takes the aim of her wand off me, finding the need to cross her arms across her modest bosom a much more necessary action. “There isn’t any need to look at me that way.”

For a moment I just stand and blink, still half bent over the basin and trying to convince myself that what I have just heard I must have misconstrued because the conclusion I’m drawing is just absurd. “You think I’m attracted to you?”

She doesn’t answer my question, well not directly. Holding herself so ridged with fear she might as well had screamed. It’s only when I start laughing that she moves. “What’s so funny?” I try not to answer and for some reason I even try to hide my amusement from her by burying my face in a towel but nothing can stop the laugher running along my spine to wrack through my entire body. “What’s so funny?” She repeats and this time a shriek pulls the pitch of her voice to a deafening level.

I shake my head and use the towel the methodically dry my hands. Turning to rest my hip against the counter and shake my head. “You think that because I’m attracted to another witch I would automatically want to jump into bed with you. That’s ridiculous.”

“It stands to reason.” She begins to argue, even going as far as to back up a step from me.

“No it doesn’t.” I am finally able to gather myself enough to halt the mirth from showing in my voice but there is nothing I can do about the maddening grin still playing on my lips. “Boys can be attracted to any girl. No one assumes they are attracted to every girl. It’s almost the same thing.” I try to explain and finding it difficult, as of late it is not exactly as if I have held the emotional high ground over anyone who I have been in close proximity to. This must be how Ginny and Hermione see me, someone trying to grasp the concept of sentiment and coming to the wrong conclusions, time and time again.

Her eyebrows lower to hood over her eyes and all I can do is watch her, if I could glimpse into the past I’m sure that’s exactly what I would look like. Trying to understand some strange notion that to anyone else in the world would come, as naturally as breathing but to people like Nancy and I, we have to pull it apart and examine it because it doesn’t fit into our nice tidy world. Where blood purity rules and anything outside of normality should be feared and avoided, or destroyed.

For years we have been at odds with one another and it’s not until I see that look on her face that I notice how similar we once were. Another time, another place, another set of personal objective we might just have become friends but back then, when it had been an option I don’t think I was even capable of friendship.

“I don’t think I understand.” She says after a lengthy pause and I feel my stomach drop a few inches. Of course she wouldn’t understand. It took me months of self-reflection and observation of the group of Gryffindors that I have befriended. I can hardly expect her to see it with any sort of clarity after a single conversation.

All my amusement is quick to disappear and I find myself staring intently at the tiled floor, wadding up my towel and throwing it against the side. “No, I don’t think I expected you to.” I take a deep breath and try to push this interaction to the back of my mind, I can ponder it later but right now there is something else I need to know. “Are you going to tell me what the badge is for or not?”
- 41
- 42
- 43
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