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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
- 42
- 43
- 44
Chapter 43

The Inquisitorial Squad, Umbridge’s trusted inner circle; filled to the brim with liars, scoundrels and thieves. If you ask me I think she might have missed the point of a trusted inner circle but then again she is fast running out of allies and when the rouges and villains are all that you have left you’ll welcome them with open arms.

That was all I had managed to get out of Nancy in the short time I had been afforded for using the facilities, I’m not surprised when she is the one sent to retrieve me half an hour before my lessons are to start the following day. When the door is pulled open, the tip of her wand is once more pointed in my direction and her grip tightens significantly upon receiving the dark look that I already have upon my face.

Being awake so early each morning used to provide me adequate time for both grooming and breakfast. However when the door to my chamber isn’t unlocked until this time I am forced to choose between the two. Neither of us says anything but she does take a step backwards when I invade her personal space, using my excessive height to the fullest effect. She must not see me reach out to throw the door closed because her whole body jumps at the noise of it slamming too. “Could you have cut it any finer?” I can feel the instincts of the beast inside me clambering up my throat, pacing around in my chest and begging for violence.

When she speaks her voice begins to shake but her wrist remains as steady as a rock, a skill that may one day save her life. “I’m just following instructions.”

“All that power,” I give a snort of laughter and abruptly turn in the direction of the Great Hall. “so long as you keep bowing to her.”

To say my stride had been quick would have been an understatement; the combination of being left with no room to pace, along with not being trusted enough to travel from one part of the school to the other sending my rage and frustration into a vicious cycle; going round and round; building on itself and mounting to an unbearable degree, quickly pushing me into a pace to relive some of the tension. She has to jog a few steps but soon she catches up, careful to keep a full pace between us. “It won’t be like that forever.” However when I stop and turn it is just as abruptly, she unknowingly loses that ground she had been so careful to keep between the two of us, only narrowly missing crashing into the length of my body.

“No. It won’t always be Umbridge.” I feel my jaw clench and most of my face twitch in annoyance. I have to remove my features from her sights, before she can see the emotion and play on it further. So with another jerky movement I return to my hurried journey along the maze of hallways. “But there’ll always be someone. Someone’s will that you have to bend to, just so they give you power that you don’t deserve.” The mere thought of this riles me up even further but I couldn’t tell you why. Had that not been my life’s plan, not so long ago? Perhaps that’s why. That’s all I would have ever been, a servant to another and I would have been content; being told how to live, how to die; what to think, what to feel.

I just couldn’t do that anymore, I’ve tasted free will and I no longer wish to return it. This disorder, this thing that happened to me that once disgusted me so much, that I thought would cage me and tether me to the ground has ended up liberating me in such unexpected ways.

“You wanted that power once.” She says; the defensiveness in her voice is hard to miss.

I don’t turn towards her, I can’t because I don’t know what I’ll do if I see what expression she is wearing. That grim determination to please, I can remember the feel of it. It’s not just on your face it’s in your skin, slithering through bone and muscle with little to no effort. It takes over your life and it becomes everything that means anything to you. “Once.” I relent, my lip pulling up in a show of revulsion. “I learned that I didn’t need to adhere to another person’s will, just so they could tell me my life was worth living.”

She scoffs at that. “Isn’t that exactly what you do with your Mudblood?” This time she anticipates that her words will make me halt but I can’t face her. Not without striking out. “You go out of your way to please her, so she’ll give you what you want. It’s no different.”

“It is different.” Without meaning to I’ve turned on the spot and stepped forward, feeling the tip of her wand pressing deeply against my chest. I can’t bring myself to care that all she would need to do is utter two little words and I would cease to breathe. “It’s worlds apart. You will bend and you will kneel. For what? Praise that will never, can never be offered, or to spare yourself the pain of a reprimand. Where yes I would let the world bend and break me. Suffer all her ills so she has no need to but not because she would offer me anything in return. I’d do it because I can’t bear to see her cry.” For a long moment I hold Nancy’s gaze, hunting for a shred of comprehension that I know can never be there and when she proves me right, when all she can do is stand and stare in bewilderment I feel myself deflate. Every breath of wind stripped from my sails and I can’t look at her anymore, so I find the floor. “I don’t expect you to understand the distinction but that’s why.”

Slowly I feel her wand pull away from my breastplate and she drops her arm to aim it harmlessly to the floor. “What’s so special about her?”

“I love her.” I answer, plain and simple; catching her deep frown as I look up, then turn to make my way to the woman we had been discussing.

Nancy for her part is shocked into silence. Catching up with me and not feeling the need to keep her wand trained on me at all times, but still a constant escort. My words appear to have altered her perception of me, if only slightly, but in no way override her orders.

When I enter the Great Hall I automatically turn towards the Gryffindor table only hindered for a moment with a restringing hand on my arm. She tries to tell me that I can’t sit at that part of the Hall, that I am no longer permitted. I don’t have to threaten her with either my words or my body all I have to do is ask her to stop me and I mean it. If she had truly pressed the issue I would have relented, all the fight sucked right out of me, but she doesn’t. I don’t know if it’s our conversation or the desperation I can feel blazing in my eyes that I have no wish to squash down until they appear cold and dead but she just lets me go.

I don’t need a second chance; I reached out and grab the first with both hands. Never halting in my step, I weave between the masses of bodies, trying to make my way there while still remaining unnoticed. I don’t glance up; if I see Umbridge’s eyes on me I’ll know my time will be limited. She’ll have to take action but I am uncertain if she will remove me from where I sit; if she will draw attention to my disobedience in such a public environment or not, but she will have to take some action.

When I reach the point along the benches I am quick to step over, not even taking a moment to greet anyone, and make a point of lowering my head to it is resting on my fist. Just to try and appear casual and keep my head lower than everyone else.

Hermione as ever is highly observant and takes note of my position, almost immediately having to hold herself back from flinging her arms around me and settling for reaching beneath the table to grip at my thigh; to either comfort me or just hold on tightly it doesn’t matter, I’m sure it succeeds in both. “Are you okay?” She asks, her soulful brown eyes scanning over the visible skin for any sign of damage.

My fingers gently close around hers and I feel myself smile at her. “I’m better now.”

Ginny sitting across the table chooses this moment to groan low in her throat. “You’re doing that charming thing again.” She puts down her knife and fork and makes a bridge with her hands to rest her chin upon. “On the one hand it’s sickeningly cute, on the other you have to teach me how you do that.”

Already the younger redhead has raised my spirits, I have no idea how she does it but it usually only takes a sentence. “It helps when I mean it.” Leaning forward I use my free hand to point in a faux threatening way across the table at her. “And for the record, I am not cute.”

“Aww.” Hermione coos at the same moment as squeezing my thigh. “You’re adorable when you say things like that.”

I can’t muster enough malice in me to even scowl in her direction, that doesn’t stop me appearing affronted though. “Well that’s just…” For a moment I search my mind for the correct word. My lips already poised to form speech. “Just cheating.”

She tries unsuccessfully to hold back her giggle, reaching out to cup my cheek in her hand and draw me closer to her. “I didn’t think you’d be adverse to a little foul play.” As she finishes her sentence her lips close over mine, just one night away from her bed and this form of contact feels very understated and far removed from how I would truly wish to greet her but for now I’ll just have to settle for the breadcrumbs.

When I pull back I can feel the breath that she had very effortlessly removed from my lungs pulled back into my body from between my teeth. “Oh, I don’t mind.” Reaching out my thumb brushes the tip of her nose and judging by the intense look in her eyes I’m not the only one who wishes we could be somewhere else with much more time to show our affection. “I just expected better from you.” With just a blink of my eyes and a heaved sigh my mood turns serious, if only for a minute. “What happened last night?”

Harry is the first to speak from between his gritted teeth cutting off the others in the group. “We got snitched on.”

My forehead creases in a frown, his behaviour is so out of character that I can’t help but call him on it. “Taking it a little personally aren’t you?”

When those green eyes come at me, full of pain and rage I physically pull back, never before have I seen this boy look angry but now that I have I wish never to be the cause of his ire.

Hermione comes to my rescue, calmly interjecting and stopping the rant that I can see building in Harry’s chest. “It was one of Cho’s friends?” at her words all I can really do is blink at her in incomprehension. “Harry and Cho are…” At the look the black haired boy shoots her way she is quick to correct herself. “Were an item.”

For a moment my gaze meets Ginny’s only to find them wide and her head shaking from side to side with such a slight movement it is hardly visible. The motion is slight but she might as well have been shouting at me not to bring up her attraction to the boy. “Why does no one think to tell me these things?”

“Well…” Ron begins but is rudely interrupted by another taking a seat with us.

Nancy has the sourest of looks spread across her face as she takes a seat opposite me, a pair of hands pushing against her shoulders to make sure she remains seated. Looking along the line of the arms I am unsurprised to find Umbridge attached to them; the smile playing at the edges of her cheeks that are so strained that it pulls at the crow’s feet around her eyes. “Well isn’t this cosy. Isn’t it?” She’s met with nothing more than the silence of discontent, not as though she’s going to let that stop her. Her fingers dig into Nancy’s shoulders so tightly that she winces under the pressure and sinks lower in her seat, the silent message clear. “Do enjoy your meal.” She holds her eyes open so rigidly they must be burning in protest for her to blink and I can see her teeth grinding beneath her skin but she must know she will not get anything while standing over us because with a final push downwards she turns and heads back towards the staff table. Clearly she noticed where I was seated this morning.

Nancy slumps low in her seat and tries to cover her face from the glares that must be being sent to her from the Slytherin table behind me; turning her head behind her shielding hand to watch Umbridge walking away before leaning over the table so she can jab a finger in my direction and say in a whispered hiss, “This is your fault.”

“Quite possibly.” I concede, slightly taken aback by the abrupt turn in events.

“Stop me, she says. Knowing full well I bloody won’t.” Nancy starts reaching out for a slice of toast and I have to admit that it’s true. Where I didn’t exactly know where the interaction would lead I wasn’t surprised by the outcome. “Knowing that she would sit me over here, with these…” She pauses to look around at the four friends all staring at her with slacked jaws, lifting her lip in a clear show of disgust. “People. Tell me, honestly do you just enjoy making my day a little more miserable?”

“Well.” I begin but have nothing to add to that sentence. I am loath to admit it but Umbridge has just surprised me. It’s not something that happens to me very often. Yes, admittedly the circumstances that have surrounded me have been somewhat shocking as of late but that isn’t people’s reaction, which is something that I can usually predict with a high degree of accuracy. There are usually several responses any individual can give but it’s not often that I miss anything.

People can be so easy to both manipulate and predict, they all have personal boundaries that they will not cross and even if they do it’s only marginally, a single toe stepping out of line. Even Ginny with her wildly erratic behaviour and train of thought are still confined to a set parameter. It was just so different to me that it took me a while to figure it out. However Umbridge lead a member of her personal team by force and then sat her before me. Didn’t order it of her, didn’t force me to move. She made a very public display of the whole thing, not a person in this room would have been able to miss it and that, that is just so far removed from anything I had thought would happen its frightening.

I’m so perplexed by this that I barely even notice my hand untangling itself from around Hermione to rub across my chin. If her restrictions aren’t exactly where I thought they were that changes everything. How many times did I push at those outer limits? Just to make her do something or say something and she did. Every time, she did exactly as predicted. Either the parameters have changed, or I had been gravely mistaken; both are a worry.

Everything that had once been in Nancy’s hands lands on her plate, food, cutlery and even a piece of jewellery, all but forgotten in front of her. She leans heavily over the table, completely disregarding my disorder to get as close as possible without drawing attention. “Tell me you knew she would do that.”

Normally I would lie through my back teeth, being able to forecast people’s reactions is easily one of my most useful skills and it would not do to have me appear lacking. However Nancy is not Umbridge and she is predictable, she’d be able to see me doing it, maybe not right away but she’ll notice, then again it doesn’t really matter her reaction would still be the same. “I didn’t see that one coming.”

Shock: that’s what must make her face drop to such a degree in such a short space of time and slowly fall back into her seat. “You’re obviously lying.”

“Sorry.” I say quietly curling my tongue around my molars in thought for a second. “Not this time.”

“Oh.” She clears her throat, both of her thumbs running over the tips of her fingers in a nervous gesture. “That’s a… very frightening thought.”

“My thought’s exactly.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is.” Ginny cuts in, probably because she cannot stand to stay quiet for a single moment longer. “Jamie can get things wrong every now and then.” As she say’s this she points her empty fork in my direction but still directs her eyes towards Nancy sitting at her side.

“Jamie?” Nancy asks, first looking towards the younger redhead and upon hearing me groan loudly and dropping my forehead into my hand I can feel her eyes boring into the top of my bowed head. “Jamie? Really?”

I feel myself growl at her instantly picking up on that particular nickname. Not really wanting to see the smirk that I can hear in her voice I speak to the table, not the people seated at it. “Make your point Ivybridge.”

“How very unisex of you.”

At this I do lift my eyes and that smirk is still there. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

The edges of her lips lift for only a moment, just to relay that she had known exactly what I had meant and if we had not been in such a public place I might just have reached across the table to push her nose into some porridge. “I don’t think you quite understand…” She turns back towards Ginny and I can see that she is having some trouble actually remembering her name but while remaining true to her breading she can hardly admit fault so instead pulls a superior air into her tone as she addresses the younger girl. “Weasley.” Only through an immense show of willpower do I restrain myself from rolling my eyes, distracting myself by pouring myself a goblet of pumpkin juice and turning to rest my eyes on Umbridge. “Jamie here,” She puts more emphasis on my nickname that is strictly necessary and by the titter in her voice I know she has seen my darkening look, even though it is not directed at her. “She doesn’t miss things like this. Always a step ahead, isn’t that right? Jamie.” She makes a point of pausing for a moment before addressing me and doesn’t flinch when I turn my cold blue eyes in her direction. “If even you, didn’t expect this, something changed.”

“It did.” Rubbing my hands together I run a few more possibilities through my head but there is only really one thing that I had overlooked. “She became headmistress.”

“Yeah, but we already knew that.” Nancy says and it only takes a split second of contemplation for her to come to the same conclusion I have. When her eyes close, that’s the moment when I know she understands. “Oh bugger, I’m part of her personal bloody army.”

Finally brining my goblet to my lips I lean forward and cross one arm over my body to rest the length of it along the table’s edge; then resting the iron down onto the still empty ceramic plate, my appetite deserting me. “What do you want from me? Sympathy?”

“Well that would be nice.” Nancy says, annoyed with her current predicament but not allowing it to spoil her breakfast and she retrieves her toast from her plate. “Not that you’re even capable of that emotion.”

I am only halted from sending across some scathing reply by the pressure against my thigh. Hermione who has still yet to remove her grip from me gathers my attention in an instant wearing a very confused expression. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think any of us know what you two are talking about.”

“Good.” Nancy says while pushing a half mouthful of toast into her cheek.

I send her yet another look and resist the temptation to strike out with my foot under the table, but only just. “It’s about power. When we have it we react differently to when we want it. The power shifted and I didn’t notice.”

“Neither did I.” Ivybridge admits. “How did we both manage that?”

“She already held the title of High Inquisitor for so long and we’re both very stupid.” I reply, already recalibrating all of my expectations and none of it looks good.

Ginny leans forward, always the willing student whenever it comes to matters like this, flaying her hand around to accompany her speech, making Nancy back up before she takes an accidental blow to the nose. “So I understand that Umbridge has more power and that makes her more daring.” She pauses for a moment and looks at me expectantly, just checking that she had grasped the concept correctly, at my nod she continues. “What does that mean she’s capable of now?”

Her question is one I had been contemplating, something that is slowly making my skin turn cold but what really makes my blood turn to ice is Nancy confirming my suspicions. “Anything.”

“Everything,” I put in slowly, it feels off to agree with this girl but she’s picking up on everything just as quickly as I am. “Even her trusted few might want to watch their backs.” I couldn’t help but add that in a meaningful tone of voice; a warning, not a threat that might just unhinge her enough to press her to my advantage.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry.” I needn’t have bothered; she’s already caught up to the extent that the circumstances themselves had been enough. “I’m sure they intend to.”

“So,” Hermione begins, finally taking her palm from my flesh and I immediately miss its heat. “This is how the other half live, with thinly veiled threats and double layered conversations.” For a moment we both sit and look at one another, her trying to puzzle out this part of me, while I wonder if when she finally comes to a conclusion I will still be welcome in her arms. “I think I understand you a little better now.”

~X~

“So your friends,” Nancy starts up a conversation as we wonder around the hallways bathed in the late afternoon sun. “And I use that term with a high amount of trepidation because you just don’t have friends.”

Feeling myself privately smirk at the observation because she’s right, the person she used to share a room with, while no longer exists, was in no way capable of that kind of relationship, with anyone. “Strange, isn’t it?”

“Very.” She concedes, with almost no animosity. She has effectively been appointed my personal guard, to make sure I don’t get up to any special brand of werewolf type mischief I presume. As a consequence we’ve been forced to spend much of the day together and keeping up that level of irritation for so long is just exhausting. So at some point between History of Magic and Potions we reached some sort of unspoken truce. Not really anything that can really be built upon but just enough so we don’t end up killing each other whenever we pass a dark enough corner. “Well they are all a bit…” She pauses and as I turn my head to glance at her I can see her struggling to keep up the civil tongue she has had in her head since noon. “Quirky.”

“I suppose you get a pass for not saying weird.” Slowly I run my hands over my hipbones and push them deep into my pockets; slowing my pace to such an extent that it causes an ache in the back of my calves. Technically she is escorting me back to my room, while the Gryffindors may be in Care of Magical creatures I have no further lessons for the day; neither does Nancy which could be why she has been assigned to me, having a timetable that mirrors mine. Anyway it’s not as if I’m in any hurry to return to solitary confinement and even Nancy’s company is better than not having enough space to move. “Best part is, they think we’re unorthodox. The way we speak the way we conduct ourselves, everything.”

“What? Are you saying that they think the rest of the world is so open and honest?” She takes note of the hum in the back of my throat and slow nod of my head, giving a snort to show how idiotic she thinks that frame of mind is. “I suppose they’ll learn.”

“They just trust each other.” I defend in a low voice. I know that I have slowly come to terms with the way they treat each other, only just beginning to understand.

She laughs again and I remember that feeling; amused by their naivety because I was so superior, above friendship, love, and trust. It’s insane that I once thought them the barbarians. “So what happens when one of them doesn’t come through? Doesn’t live up to their part of the bargain?”

“It never happens.” I answer immediately, not even having to think about it. Where I know that Nancy sees friendship as a relationship of the fair exchange of favours, Hermione and Ginny don’t. The touch of her fingers against my upper arm pulls me to a stop and I turn on her, watching her eyebrow rise in question. “If I fell down, they’d pick me up, dust me off and help me on their way. Carry me if they had to but not to ask me for something later; just to help me.”

Her eyebrows drop down over her eyes as they close, her forehead closed in a deep show of thought, the whole thing bordering on unimaginable. “Why?” She finally asks exhaling all breath on that single word.

“I don’t know.” I answer honestly, not quite able to meet her eyes as I do. “I really don’t. What I do know is I’d do exactly the same thing.”

“But why?” She asks again turning as I do so we may resume our steady pace.

My shoulders pull slowly into a shrug. “I don’t have an answer for that.”

“Well that’s very informative.” She says in a sarcastic tone of voice just a moment before I watch something pass over her eyes. Something illusive and just below the surface, pulling her back ridged. It’s only when I set my sights in the direction we are walking that I realise what caused the reaction.

Ahead of us, maybe twenty paces Draco flanked by his two bodyguards. All of them marching, not walking; they look like they have a purpose and all eyes are on me. He’s holding his bottom lip between his teeth as he draws near. “Desay. What a surprise.”

I pull my hands from my pockets, not wishing to leave myself to open and undefended with them held against my legs. Not able to put anything into words without provoking him, I have to settle for sending him a questioning look. At the end of this hallway are my quarters, nothing residing at either end of it that could be considered interesting. So I don’t see any reason for him to be here, well apart from the obvious, judging by the glint of apprehension in Goyle’s eye.

Draco’s face pulls into a smile so full of malice he would put Hades himself to shame and without taking his eyes from mine addresses the girl I had been walking with. “Take a walk Ivybridge.”

I can’t help but give the girl some credit; she stands her ground and argues back. On some level defending me, even if that isn’t her intention. “Draco. I have instructions too…”

She is never allowed to finish her sentence that very well could have been words to my defence as Malfoy’s grey eyes shoot to her, spitting fire and almost causing her to forget how to breathe in their intensity. “I said; take a walk.”

One good turn, even if uncompleted does deserve another; so drawing on every ounce of indifference that I can muster I let my hip drop into a casual slouch. “Yes Nancy. Go and find yourself a nice safe alibi.”

The look that plays across her face is equal parts confused and grateful, my conduct has just done a complete about face in the blink of an eye but this is something she knows I am talented in. The questions that are held tightly behind her teeth are cries of ‘why’ not ‘how’ as I have become used to in recent months.

I’m in actual fact giving her an out. Without any responsibility, guilt, or accountability for whatever is to happen next and I’m doing it because I need an ally. Returning to the mentality of the house of Slytherin, I need for her to owe me something. I don’t expect the next few moments of my life to be in any way pleasant but one does need to think to the future when I will be in more need of her to defend me. It only takes her a moment to realise this but it doesn’t matter, it’s not like she can refuse me when the heir of the Malfoy family is agreeing with me. Her teeth grind for only a moment before nodding towards the blond boy, turning on the spot and disappearing.

“Do you have any idea how long Goyle has been waiting for this?” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder at the boy he had indicated, who covers a fist with his other palm and squeezes until the bones crack and grind.

Then there is Crabbe, who is trying with all of his might to remain inconspicuous, while he makes his way behind me, blocking off any escape. “I’d hazard to say a while.” I answer, determined not to let him see my fear. No wands have been drawn as of yet, while that does speak to the benefit of my continued existence, physical violence isn’t something I am used to.

“Oh so long and here I am making him wait.” He holds his hand up with his fingers extended to order the eager boy to remain back. Just for a little longer. “You don’t know how hard it’s been, holding him back.” As Malfoy speaks Goyle growls and I am grateful that these three cannot smell fear as I can, or hear my heart rate double in speed. “But then you had to go and make me look so stupid, in front of the Dark Lord. Gave me the perfect excuse though, to throw your father in front of him. Apparently he squealed like a pig.”

“I am truly remorseful that I missed that.”

“I’ll bet you are.” My words case a spark of anger to run across his face and it’s in that moment that I realise that he’s been able to work out how I had used him. “The Dark Lord made him squeal. Now they’re going to make you scream.”

“I doubt that.” I say, showing much more confidence that I actually feel.

He gives a chucked and gestures for his two goons to begin. I’ve barely even registered the movement before what feels like a speeding train smashes into the side of my face. I’m knocked off balance and have to take a few paces to the side, already gripping my jaw and trying to push it back into place. Looking up just as another strike appears in my vision. I have just enough time to duck, curling my hands into fists and strike upwards.

It doesn’t feel like Goyle’s jaw moves the same way mine had, if anything it feels like my fist took more damage than his face, so I step forward and strike out with my other hand catching him on the opposite cheekbone. He takes a step back dazed but all of my focus is on him, not on Crabbe as his foot come out of nowhere and smacks into my stomach.

It feels like I’ll never breathe again as I fall heavily onto my knees. What I think must be a fist crashes into my temple and I feel blood, hotly running down my skin; dripping into my eye and I don’t even have time to wipe it away before something else collides with me, sending me down onto the cold floor. From that moment I know I’ve lost any sort of high ground, without my wand I’m useless in actual conflict. So all I can really do is curl my hands around my head, taking every blow from foot, fist, and elbow until their lust for my blood is sated. Only able to hope my will to survive outlasts it.
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