Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Chapter 5

The days that followed my miraculous escape from the Forbidden Forest, were filled with times of incessant boredom and self-induced solitude. Aside from the priceless look on Draco's face as I strolled into my potions class that day, none the worse for wear, the day passed and another started. Like each day in the four weeks that followed. I would still return to the library each evening in a desperate hunt for answers. Only to come up fruitless. What ever happened to me that night remains to this very day a secret of the trees.

It was over a week before I received any sort of correspondence from my parents. Even though I had expected it, the thin cold lines of my father's hand cut me to the bone. He stated in no uncertain terms that 'family' was not a word that could be associated between us any longer. There was no scandal, no letting of blood, only the silence that followed his heartless one page letter.

My father's disapproval of not only engaging in a same sex relationship but doing so with a muggleborn was expected. His reaction was much colder that I had anticipated. The strangled silence hurting more than any spell he could have ever cast, any wound he could have inflicted but at the very least an adverse reaction was expected.

Neither my younger brother nor my mother chose to contact me in the wake of his silent anger. In some ways I'm glad. My mother was always the warmer of my two parents. I remember she held pride in her eyes when I announced I had made the Quidditch team. Or the comfort she showed me when I held letter of acceptance to Hogwarts in my young shaking hands all those years ago. My father could order me to the pits of Tartarus and I would willing go to please him. My mother need only to ask, and I would have stumbled there and back to see her smile. Her silence spares me her disappointment but rattles me more than I care to admit. I was certain that she would almost overlook such a flaw in me. That she would continue to tend my wounds as she always had. Yet she has said nothing regarding the matter.

In direct contrast to my parents silence I have spoken via letter with my eldest brother more in the past three weeks than we have spoken throughout my entire life. Dale, for as long as I can remember, has held a deep seething resentment for my father. For the duration of my life, they have avoided each other and angered each other in equal measure. He was sorted into Ravenclaw in his first year and to this day I am certain that he found a way to do so on purpose.

His letters arrive at least once a day in his tight, messy hand writing. The first one came as a shock. Filled with pity towards me, which I immediately resented. He spoke for pages and pages of my father’s misuses of magic and the harsh way he brought us up. He told me he would always be there for me, which I did not believe. That first letter was promptly and graciously ignored but I have found that one of the few traits that Dale has inherited from his father is persistence.

The following day his young, yet still scruffy looking black owl Strix arrived at my morning meal, with two letters proudly held in his beak. Regardless of how many dirty looks I gave the bird and how much I tried to ignore him he would not leave the table. Something of which I can now say from experience is very distracting when you are trying to eat your breakfast.

That morning I eventually took both letters and handed the animal half of my bacon just to stop the jeers and comments being shot in my direction. I shoved them deep into my robes and convinced myself to forget about them. I hadn't realized how heavy two letters could feel and I had read both of them twice before midday.

I was a fool. My brother is truly an amazing man. His take on life appears to be somewhat of a constant jest. His letters are usually already crumpled and smudged when I open them. The contents of them a jumbled mix of endless ramblings and random thoughts, which are not placed on the page in any regimented order. As if he carries the lined piece of paper around in his pocket all day, scribbling down any passing thoughts as they trample through his mind. It is an odd way to communicate but it certainly brightens my day.

He speaks to me of everything. His wife, his job, always stopping to ask me something, sometimes in the middle of a sentence. He knows he must lure answers out of me and on the page it is obvious that is exactly what he is trying to do.

He asks me of school, of my class mates and Hermione. By the Gods he may ask about Hermione but I have no idea how to answer him. Our current relationship is... shaky at best. There is talk of friendship and new bridges to be built. Yet all either of us seem to be capable of is awkward moments in the hall and long quiet sessions in the library, neither of us quite knowing what to say. I had taken to trying to remain passive and silent as much as possible until I have an accurate estimate of her mood or how close her friends may be. Both of which remain a touchy subject for both of us.

The last three days have been difficult in that regard. My own mood shifting from joyous and happy to, within a split second, boiling with rage, or even, once, close to tears. All with no apparent cause. The shifts within my own body, I must confess I have no clue how to handle. I do not ramble with glee and I do not scream in fury. I am passive and I am constant, my emotions very rarely reaching my features let alone my voice as they have recently.

The only true answer I have found is solitude. Waiting for the confusing and sometimes dangerous thoughts and emotions to pass. However school life does prove to hinder this particular answer to my predicament.

Today is the start of the weekend so I have been able to mostly remaining in isolation. Pacing my room's short length feeling trapped. An uncomfortable pressure settling against my throat, feeling akin to a caged lioness unable to hunt.

With no windows as a distraction I walk from the door to my desk and back again, my hands opening and closing painfully with each passing stride. A deep frustration settling deep in my belly, my skin unable to settle, an usual feeling which I am at this time unable to shake. The emotion foreign to me and I find myself at a complete loss with how to rid myself of the unsettling feeling.

My eyes glance over the moss covered walls once more in disgust and my feet pull to a dead stop in the centre of the room. Shaky arms pulling skywards to fist hands in my hair. I feel my shoulders vibrate of their own violation and I push down to overpowering need to scream. Something is happening to me. It may be simple enough that I just cannot stand my own company for another second but all I know is I need to escape these walls.

Something akin to a growl rumbles through my chest, in place of the desired scream and my hands snap out of my hair at the noise. I need to get out of here. Now.

I draw a denim jacket tightly around my shoulders, a muggle item of clothing sent to me by my brother, his reasons for the gift are still unapparent but it is functional and comfortable all the same. I pull harshly on the door and exit into the corridor. This area of the castle is deserted, only the echoing sounds of my own tapered breaths reach my ears. A chill runs through my body and it begins to tremble. My eyes darting up and down the hallway, now I have left my room I find myself at a loss of what I should be doing with my time.

My indecision settles and I feel a deep, almost painful desire to be outside. The reason is unknown to me but the slim chance that being in the open air could somehow ease the tightness, which is starting to settle in my chest pushes my stride forward. Planning the quickest route in my mind to the outer walls of the castle I begin to walk.

My palms settle against the ageing wooden door for but a moment before I push heavily against it. The brisk autumn wind finding me the instant I step foot into the open air, chilling me down to the bone. The air is well worth the chill as I draw breath through my nostrils my eyes slowly sliding closed as pure blessed relief flows freely through my veins. Almost addicted I gulp down another lung full of air and feel my nerves settle just a little.

I open my eyes towards the dwindling afternoon light and close the door behind me. Never before has the outdoors provoked such a reaction from me. My young life consisting of intense study of dark magic left little time for me to spend away from my father's study.

Drawing my jacket closed and buttoning it against the biting wind, arms draw across my chest and palms rub against biceps to keep my body heat contained. I still do not feel quite myself but I would brave much worse weather for this small amount of uneasy calm.

Feeling the need to keep moving I steadily make my way across the stone courtyard. My trainer covered feet landing heavily on the set cobblestones and the ominous echo of my footfalls meets my ears a moment later. I pass beneath the stone archway and out into the grounds, the site of the open fields seeping more calm into my aching muscles.

I find myself walking aimlessly between the tall blades of grass, just letting myself enjoy the odd feeling of freedom from my walk with the steadily, setting sun at my back. I set a meandering path in the vague direction of the Black Lake with a slow but steady stride allowing my mind to wonder to my current state.

My anger may have settled to a steady, bubbling beneath the surface of my skin, still present and pushing incessantly against the backs of my eyes. It may have tapered from the volatile emotion I felt indoors but is none the less still present. The only solution I currently have at my disposal is the constant grinding of my teeth and the unyielding pressure of nails against my palms.

Pity the poor fool that crosses my path this afternoon.

I reach the edge of the black lake much sooner than I would have liked and without pause for thought direct my stride in the opposite direction of the castle. Not yet ready to face the world inside those walls.

As I walk along the shore, my eyes trained on the still waters of the lake and the darks clouds drawing closed across the sky, blotting out the last dwindling rays of sunlight, my mind as eventful as the murky water's surface. My thoughts kept carefully blank to avoid any violence settling into my stomach. More than once the past few days I have found myself on the verge of striking many of my classmates, another oddity I cannot explain. To strike an adversary physically is both useless and folly when you have perfectly good access to a wand. Any injures that you inflict can be healed in seconds with nothing more than a muttered word and a flick of magic. I know this and the rational part of my brain accepts this, yet I am unable to shake the thought that to lash out with nothing but my bare hands would bring me much more joy and fulfillment.

A single drop of rain falls and lands in the centre of my crown. The feeling and sound echoing around my skull takes a moment in my hazy state to register. My feet halt beneath me and I turn my face to the sky. My eyelids flinching as more droplets of water descend to join their brother. It takes seconds for the downpour to start and I am soaked to the skin in moments.

Thick sheets of rain cover the ground, I see little point in rushing to the cover of the castle being already socked through and still unwilling to step under the threshold. I know the moment I do the hideous sense of claustrophobia will begin to descend upon my psyche.

So with a deep breath of moist air I lower my gaze to the floor. Shaking the excess water from my face and pushing my hands deep into my pockets to protect them from the elements. The solemn weather begins to match my mood. The vicious cuts of icy water pounding down upon my tight shoulders and bowed head as I make a steady retreat to the cover of the school.

I push open the large main doors with a grave sense of foreboding settling within my chest. The moment the door closes behind me, the itching in my skin returns. I run my palm across my face and over my hair to clear the uncomfortable liquid which has gathered on my skin, casting my gaze over the deserted main hall.

I stand stock still, water dripping from by body and soaking the stone floor beneath my feet. Slowly my eyes ghost along the many staircases and come to rest upon one in particular. I could simply walk up those stairs and along a small passage to the north wing of the castle. To Gryffindor Tower. I feel as though I am going to start clawing at my very skin if I must spend just one moment alone and my only friend lies just up that staircase.

She would not see me as weak for seeking her company. She would not see my current state of attire and have pity in her eyes. She would simply be who she is. I think I could almost endure the awkward silences and unsure remarks if I could just hear the sounds of another's breathing within the same room.

I almost take that path. Almost climb those stairs. Until my own body betrays me. I can still feel the incessant rage still bubbling and steadily beginning to boil. The stone walls which once held so much comfort and security begin to feel overbearing. As much as the thought of spending the evening in her company appeals to me, I cannot and will not use such time to vent my frustrations and this is something I fear I would do inadvertently.

So my sights set once more to the descending stairs and make my way beneath the ground. With each footfall the knot in my chest tightens and my shoulders bunching against the ache.

I decide to make a pass of the underground tunnels of the castle before returning to the confinement of the quarters, unwilling to feel like a caged animal in my own home just yet. I consciously slow my pace until I feel the unpleasant ache in the backs of my calves, savouring these last few minutes.

It takes me a moment to notice her. The one person in the whole building I was purposefully trying to avoid, sparing her my volatile mood. She turns the corner ahead of me and makes her way towards me.

The smile on her face shows me she is pleased to have met me in her travels. "Jamie... you’re soaked." For the sake of politeness I halt my movements and meet her eyes with mine. My jaw clenching painfully and my shoulders bunching yet further I nod in affirmation with regards to her obvious statement. The kind smile instantly drops from her face and is replaced by a worried frown. "What's the matter."

I feel myself swallow heavily. "Nothing." As I speak my lip lifts in a sneer and a rumble, which is dangerously close to a growl threads its way through my voice. Even as the word leaves my lips I chastise myself for allowing my emotions to show upon my face.

She lifts a single disbelieving eyebrow at my less than convincing rebuttal. "Nothing?" Her eyes cast over my trembling muscles and I see a glint of fear behind them. "I've never seen you like this before."

My eyes feel glazed and begin to ache and I quickly pull them away from her face. Looking anywhere but at her. "I've never felt like this before." My voice is still disturbingly low and menacing. I hadn't meant for the truth to slip from between my lips. Yet there they stand in the stale air between the two of us and I have no explanation for their presence. She takes a tentative step towards me reaching out to touch my shoulder and I flinch as her fingertips graze my jacket. "Don't touch me." I don't know why I said it. More importantly I don't know why I cannot bear to have her fingers upon my flesh, when it is a feeling I have craved since the moment it had be removed from my life.

Her fingers clasp slowly as she holds her arm out between us. "What happened?"

I regard her through heavy lidded eyes and answer between tightly gritted teeth. "Nothing. I have been. Like this. For days." The breaks in my sentence punctured by laboured breathes I take trying in vain to push down the tight knot resting against my chest.

She withdraws her outstretched limb. "How many days?" She asks her face becoming pale.

Try as I might I am unable to keep both the sneer off my face and the growl from my voice. "Does it matter?"

She nods slightly and glances at her watch. "It may."

"Why?"

I watch as her mouth opens to answer, before she can even draw breath my eyelids snap shut and I feel as the sun shows its last rays of light over the horizon and sets. I am just about to ponder how I can feel such a thing two floors below ground level and with the hammering rain, high in the sky when a scream of agony is ripped from my throat. My voice echoing back at me from down the long empty corridors.

My fingers grasp at my jacket and pull the buttons open to find the source of the unexpected pain. My ragged breaths meet my ears as another bout of pain coils in my belly and rips through every nerve ending in my body. The force pitches me forwards to bended knee as another cry of pain is ripped from deep within my chest.

I see her through heavy lidded eyes approach me once again reaching out for me. I hold out one hand to stop her and cry as more pain pushes through me. "Don't touch me!" My jacket begins to feel too tight against my shoulders and I struggle to get my arms free of the confining material. As it slips from my body my shoulders bunch impossibility tight pulling my arms skywards, my fingers hooked but my palm open near my face as each of my muscles tense in unison, fighting each other for dominance and pulling at my skin as more shouts of suffering echo down the hallway.

"Jamie let me help you!" She shouts over the roaring in my ears.

My muscles contact still further and my back begins to bend backwards my other knee landing on the stone floor to meet its brother. "What's happening..." My breath catches as I feel my throat close and I try to push air though my windpipe to allow me to speak. The pressure releases after just a moment leaving terrible pain in its wake. "...To me?"

"I think..." She is cut off by more of my anguished screams and I see her shake off its effects to be able to continue. "I think you're transforming."

Terror meets pain beneath my breast and I snap my eyes in her direction. My jaw forced open by contracting muscles and the edge of my vision begin to glow with an unnatural golden haze. "Into what?" The current state of my body forcing me to pitch my voice to a low whisper.

Even through the pain I see a lone tear slide down her cheek "I'm so sorry." Quickly she rubs at her face with the sleeve of her robe and her eyes dart around our surroundings. "We need to get you somewhere safe." She stands and dashes to a nearby classroom and pulls harshly on the door. After finding it locked she wastes no time in pulling her wand from her robes and aiming towards the lock. "Alohomora." It unlocks with a click and she throws her shoulder against the surface pushing the heavy wooden door open wide.

She quickly tucks her wand back into her robes and darts over to me hooking her hands under my arms and pressing my trembling shoulders against her chest, beginning to drag me along the floor.

My throat closes and I quickly begin to choke, my shaking hands passing into my view. I both see and hear as the bones begin to break of their own accord beneath my skin, pulling together tighter, and elongating. Thick sprouts of brilliant, white fur begin covering the backs of my hands and slowly travel up my arm. I feel my eyes open in shock and she sets my convulsing body down onto the floor.

I feel her rummage in my back pocket and make a hasty retreat behind the heavy door. Her sorrow filled eyes finding mine. "I'm so sorry."

The door closes and I hear the lock click into place before one final scream is torn from my throat and my whole world turns black.
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By The Light