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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Chapter 6

The first thing I notice is my own bated breathing. It's slow and steady with a wheezing with each and every inhale. The shallow noise is the only indication in my fogged mind that I have returned to conciseness. Slowly my other senses begin to return to me. My mouth tastes dry, my tongue feels heavy and every part of me is cold. The unique scratch of stone pushes against my bare chest and I feel my forehead knot in confusion above my still closed eyes. I don't really remember undressing.

With a great deal of effort I pull saliva into my mouth through my glands and swallow the liquid, hoping to sooth my raw scratchy throat. Sighing with relief I drag my eyelids open, only for the slow lazy moment to turn urgent the moment my gaze meets the room. Snapping open to let it as much light as possible, not quite able to believe what it is I am seeing.

What have I done?

The room I find myself in once resembled a classroom. The upturned splintered desks are evidence of that. Large deep gouges mark each stone wall, always four in parallel lines. The stone in one section must have given way to me as it now lies in a crumbled pile of rubble on the floor. A single patch of floor fairing far worse than the rest of the room, numerous scratch marks marry its surface, great lumps of rocks missing and tossed carelessly to the floor. As if the feeble attempts of a huge desperate rabbit, burrowing into the ground.

My face presses flat against the dust and the rubble, each of my breaths throwing a plume of it into the air, making me cough as I inhale. Every muscle tender and every nerve ending screams in protest against the pain inflected from the small irrepressible reaction.

I had hoped I had imagined it all. All the pain as my body rebelled again me. My hands changed in front of my very eyes. Noting more than a terrifying nightmare, conjured from within the deep, dark recesses of my mind.

I know what I am now. I know secrets those tress have been keeping from me, shrouded in the darkness they cast upon the world. What I cannot understand is why I don't bare the scars.

Fighting against protesting muscles I bring my palm to the rubble covered floor and slowly push my chest from the cold stone. My arms begin to shake with the exertion and I settle for simply pushing myself over onto my back, softly crying out as I hit the floor hard, every bone and tendon in my body complaining against both the movement and the bitterly cold flooring.

Both of my hands come up to scrub at my face harshly in a feeble attempt to push the fog out of my mind and I have to restrain myself from thinking about watching them change right before my eyes. A sickening sense settling against my belly and my skin begins to crawl as I think about the implications of it all.

I shake my head roughly. I refuse to think about that right now. My current concern is that I appear to be locked in a destroyed classroom wearing nothing but my skin. I reach my hands above my head and whimper as I stretch some of the ache out of them. Both shoulder joints popping with the movement offering some small degree of relieve against the constant ache of my body. I feel my biceps burn in protest but continue none the less and find that my pain is justified, as the action pushes a small amount of the ache from my limbs.

With great effort and much groaning I push myself up into a sitting position resting on my flat hands behind me casting another glance around the room. My manipulation and lying methods may be good but not even I could talk myself out of this situation. I have quite literally destroyed the place without any memory of the actions.

Through sheer force of willpower I force myself to my feet, blinking my tired eyes as I make my way over to the wall. The tips of my fingers settle along the deep gouges I find there running in a swirling pattern deeply engraved into the stone. Yet more dust pushes away as I stand transfixed, my fingers slowly playing across the markings, following each line, trying to ignore the vague sense of déjà vu. Whether it’s my imagination or a flash of memory I don’t know, but I feel anger in the back of my mind as I run my fingers over the stone.

Taking a deep breath I rest my forehead against the wall. My father is going to kill me. He may have shown me nothing but his cold shoulder in the last few months but when he finds out about this he is actuality going to kill me. I am not exaggerating. A blood traitor in the family is one thing. What I am now is nothing short of an abomination.

I turn my body resting my shoulders tightly in the corner. My knees buckling, I relish the pain as my back scratches down the stone. My arms crossing, resting against my bent knees and I allow my head to slowly fall onto them.

My breath begins to become shaky and harsh as my body begins to tremble. My life will never, can never be the same again. My physiology has changed dramatically and I must change with it in order to survive the prejudices that are certain to lay in my future.

I am pulled from the steadily depressing train of thought as I hear the click at the door indicating it has been opened. My eyes snap to the surface of the wood in surprise then franticly scan the floor for any indication as to the location of my wand. I know that it was tucked safely in my back pocked when I started to transform. However my jeans now lay in tatters scattered across the large room. I could have destroyed it. As my eyes sweep over the splintered remains of the old oak desk I realize I have no hope of both locating it and obtaining it before the door is pushed open.

Shifting my footing I pull my feet yet closer to my body, drawing my knees closer to defend my modesty, hoping that just this once I could be sucked into the stone wall and hidden from sight.

The door opens with a loud squeak and I hear the gasp of surprise before I see the familiar figure of Hermione as she enters the room. Upon seeing her face as she slowly enters the room I relax just a fraction. Unsure as to whether she would hold the same prejudices as the rest of the magical community.

She slowly appraises the room and when her eyes finally land on me she offers me a small humourless smile. "Good morning."

"Is it?" I ask pushing the heel of my palm deep into my eyes socket. "I don't feel like I've slept at all."

She shakes her head coming closer to me; a long black cape draped over one arm. "In all honestly I don't think you did." She ignores the crease folding through my forehead. She pulls the cape from her arm and drapes it over her shoulder. Beneath it on her arm she uncovers a few other items she has brought with her, consisting of a small pile of clothing and a brown paper bag. She places them on the floor close to my feet and pulls the cape from around her shoulder unravelling its length. Leaning forward she pushes the edges around my shoulders, warming my skin and protecting my modesty.

I grip onto the material and try to drape it tighter around my back in an attempt to shield my skin from the cold wall. "Thanks." As I offer this my gaze glides to her face. The first thing I notice is the concern in her eye, the second is the deep shadows under them. She looks almost as fatigued as I currently feel. "How long have you been up?"

She shakes her head with a small smile reaching between her robes. "Haven't been to sleep yet." She draws another packet of paper from beneath the folds of her robes and snaps the contents. "Here eat this." The pulls out a strip of brown chocolate and holds it out for me to take. At my raised eyebrow she continues. "It helps. Honestly."

I'm more than a little dubious but I still extract one arm from beneath my cape and after making sure it is secure against my chest I reach out and take the sugary treat from her fingers. As I turn it in my hand, trying to decide if my churning stomach can handle the rich food, she brushes away rubble from the floor at my side and takes a seat against the wall next to me. She draws her feet close and rests her arms on her bent knees. "Why haven't you been to sleep?" I ask trying to break the uneasy silence between us.

I see as her eyes close and she rests her head back against the stone. "You weren't exactly quiet last night."

"You could hear me from the north tower?" I ask, casting my eyes around the destruction of the room. Tentatively I take a small bite of the offered chocolate and relish in my surprise. As it touches my lips I feel my bunched muscles relax and warmth seep into them.

"You thought I'd leave you down here?" As I glance at her I see that her eyes are carefully directed away from me. I thought I'd heard something in her low voice. I blink a few times and disregard the niggling feeling in the back of my mind. It must have been my imagination. She quickly clears her throat and changes the subject. "Hungry?"

I tactfully drop the discussion of where she has spent the night if not in her quarters and answer truthfully. "Famished."

She leans forward and retrieves the paper pack from atop of the folded piles of clothing and hands it to me. "I brought you some clothes as well. You changed all of your wards so I brought some of mine. They may not be your size."

What she doesn't know is since my night in the forest I have changed the password on my door almost daily in paranoia. I had found that it was the only way I could get myself to sleep. However the sentiment itself takes me off guard. Not only did she think about what I might need this morning she went out of her way to retrieve them. Travelling first to my quarters then almost clear across the castle to her own. I catch myself blinking at her in surprise as she keeps her gaze steadily away from me. I make no effort to remove the emotion of gratitude from either my face or my voice. "Thank you, Hermione."

Her lips curl slightly and she ducks her head, once again smoothly changing the subject. "Eat your breakfast."

I follow her instructions, pulling my other arm from beneath the cloak and unwrapping the parcel to find a bacon sandwich within it. Leaning forward I take a large bite from it and savour the taste of it in my mouth, chewing on it slowly. Already I feel better to have something warm in my belly. As I take another bite I am conscious of her remaining very still at my side and offer her the other half of my small breakfast.

"No, thank you. I've already eaten." She graciously refuses and silently, I am grateful for it, quickly devouring one half as we sit in comfortable silence. As I pull the second half from its confinement she continues to speak. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Tired." I answer truthfully in an instant. I then take a moment to analyse my inner calm. I hadn't noticed it before but the pounding rage appears to have all but left my body. "Better... more like myself."

"I'm glad." She says and I can see her mind working behind her eyes. She chews on her bottom lip as she decides exactly what she wants to say to me. I, for my part, remain in silence. I have spent enough time with her to know the look on her face. To interrupt her thoughts would fluster her and she would then have difficulty expressing herself. "There’s a few things we have to talk about." I make a small noise behind a mouthful for her to continue. "Professor Snape knows about all of this." She says quickly.

At her words I freeze, the last mouthful of food held inches from my mouth. "How?" My heart begins to beat rapidly in my throat. Had the declaration been about any other of the school’s many staff I don't think my reaction would have been so debilitating. Snape is a death eater, my father made no secret of that fact. One of The Dark Lords inner circle, his influence and prejudices should logically follow that of my family. Under that assumption my father may not have to put himself out to end my life after all.

I wait impatiently for her response as she shifts on the uncomfortable floor. Of all the staff she could have gone to for aid Snape would have been the last on the list. She and all her house hold no love for the Potions Master and I can see on her face that she is also not pleased with him being in possession of this information. "He sleeps in the dungeons Jamie. He heard you." She turns her head and pins me in place with her gaze. "He wanted to speak to you, when you woke up."

Fear settles uneasily over my body and I nod. "Will you go with me?" I ask hoping that having her as witness will lift some of the danger without placing her in any unnecessarily.

"I wasn't going to give you a choice in that. I've also been to see Professor Dumbledore this morning. He agreed to be present for the conversation."

"Were you always this smart?" I ask as ease washes over me. The ominous presence of the headmaster would offer a large degree of comfort.

She can only smile at me and tells me to quickly get dressed, leaving the rooms to offer me some privacy.

I swiftly find that she was correct in her assumptions of our differing sizes. I am at the very least a head taller than Hermione and the trousers she has brought me are evidence of this, the hem resting half way up my calves. Add this to the fact that her hips are of a much more feminine shape than my own and I find myself hitching them up and over my pelvic bone with every few steps. Her knitted jumper is also testament to my height advantage, the sleeves resting tightly around my forearms and the hem falling an inch higher than the waistband of the jeans, exposing a small portion of my midriff.

All in all I feel very uncomfortable in her attire and request a diversion to my own chambers so I am able to change.

After splashing a large helping of freezing water over my face and changing into some fresh, better fitted cloths, I allow her to lead me down the dark damp hallways beneath the school. My nerve faltering as we reach the door to the Potions classroom. Before my body begins to tremble she places her hand against my forearm and I turn to face her. "Don't be scared."

I nod, swallowing the painful lump in my throat and before I can retreat completely, push against the heavy door. Stepping further into the room I feel two sets of eyes resting on me. Both of the professors had been hunched over the teacher’s desk before my entrance and immediately fall silent, straightened up in the wake of my intrusion. "Miss Desay." It is Dumbledore who speaks first. I can see his blue eyes dancing from across the room. "Please come in."

Hermione follows close behind me as I edge my way between the desks to come closer to the two professors. My gaze starts with Snape's feet as he shuffles them, then slowly rises to meet his harsh black eyes. The look upon his face is nothing like I would have expected. I had expected a deep seething hatred to have settled across him. I expected him to hold contempt for what I have now become. Instead all I see is pity and concern, a deep frown of worry settling across his forehead.

His dementia deeply unnerves me as I slowly lower myself into one of the chairs provided. Lowering my gaze and hunching my shoulders over as I wait for someone to speak. Hermione stands at my side, oozing confidence I wish I could feel.

Dumbledore stays at the Potion Master's large ornate desk as its owner comes closer to me. He rests his long fingers against the desk directly in front of mine and takes the seat before it, turning it around and resting his elbows on the desk I have occupied. His long bony forefinger stretches against his thin pierced lips. His hand curling into a loose fist and he rests the weight of his head upon it.

I keep my eyes carefully trained on the grains in the wooden desk. His face may show concern but I am uncertain as to how much is fabricated for the benefit of the Headmaster and the Gryffindor Prefect present. By showing him submission I hope to gain a little favour. "In spite of everything it is good to learn that you choose your friends wisely."

Leaning back in my chair to put as much distance between the two of us as etiquette will allow I bring my eyes to meet his. "I'm sorry?" I say, disbelieving that I have heard him correctly.

"Miss Granger kept a very close eye over you almost all of last night. Although I do not condone disobedience in students..." He glances up and her with a meaningful look before continuing. "Such dedication is an unusual and very desirable trait in the company one keeps." I'm unsure if I should take this as a compliment. "Now. Tell me how this happened."

I swallow heavily; I hadn't expected to be confronted with this particular question quite so quickly. I clench my jaw and remain still. The silence stretches out between us and it doesn't look as though he is going to continue this conversation until I answer. I pull a quick shrug across my shoulders. "I don't know."

"A month ago you were not a werewolf." I flinch from him so violently it pushes the chair I am sitting on over and me to my feet. Until this moment I had not even allowed myself to think of the word and as it hangs in the air turning stale I feel I must physically distance myself from it. He follows my, admittedly extreme, reaction with a turn of his head. "You are aware of this are you not?"

I nod my head to the affirmative than quickly change my mind as I shake it violently. "It's not possible. I don't have any scars." I felt the pain of every bone breaking and knitting itself together in the space of seconds. I saw thick white fur sprout from the back of my hands. Yet still I feel the need to cling to the vague notion that this cannot be possible. That I cannot be what I know I am just due to this small inconsistency.

"And yet you transform into a wolf under the light of the full moon."

"Severus." The headmaster interrupts his hand open and outstretched to try to appease Snape.

"Please. Let Miss Desay finish."

Snape nods once in respect and all eyes are once again on me. "There are no scars. No scars mean no scratches. With no scratches no..." I stop, still unable to put voice to the word. I swallow once and scowl. Even as I venomously deny the possibility, my hand unconsciously raises to rest against my shoulder. There were scratches. I've been researching their disappearance for weeks. My knowledge of... this disorder is, I confess, not vast by any stretch of the imagination but the lingering scars of any first encounter are common knowledge.

Dumbledore strokes his long beard in thought, a soft sound of concentration emitting from his vocal cords. "That is not to say, they were never present."

"No." I admit, feeling the defeat resting in my voice.

"This is most peculiar." The headmaster's bright eyes slide away from me to land on Snape's back. "Would you not say so Severus?"

He shakes his head. "There are many varying forms of lycanthropy. History documents them but we have been unable to study many of them simply due to the rarity of the condition." The potions master leans back in his chair crossing his arms across his chest. "To add to these complications, each strain of the condition is unique in some way. It mutates and binds with each individual which is a very large part as to why we know so little about werewolves." I visibly flinch at the word again and he completely ignores this. "The symptoms you describe would indicate that the one who sired you may have been from a very old race of werewolves." I unconsciously take a step back; he doesn't even pause for breath at my reaction "Or alternatively you could be something completely new." His eyes glide over me with the air of a scholar. He's gaze, cold and calculating, as if he could learn something new about the disease from just my appearance.

I scratch against my scalp then pull my arms tight against my chest in unease. "I'm sorry Professor, I can see this fascinates you but it doesn't exactly make me feel any better." He immediately takes his eyes from me and casts them to the ground. I catch Hermione's eye and feel gratitude for her silence in this discussion, just remaining present for moral support. "What happens now?"

Snape keeps his eyes carefully trained away from me. "To return to my original question, how did this happen?"

"I don't know." My original answer may have been defensive but it was still truthful. "I was deep in the Forbidden Forest in the evening. When I woke up it was sunrise and I was in the grounds."

"Why were you in the Forest?" The headmaster says without a hint of disapproval in his voice. "It is named Forbidden for a good reason Miss Desay."

"Please don't ask me that." He tilts his head in question and I continue. "I'm only going to lie to you."

He smiles at me and accepts my answer. "Very well. We will need to report this incident to the Ministry..."

"Wait! What? Why?" My father works at the ministry, to inform them would be like handing this information to him on a platter.

Snape answers for him. "All incidents such as this must be reported to the Ministry of Magic. All reports are to be treated in the strictest confidence." I raise both of my eyebrows for a moment in disbelief, having Umbridge shadowing over us as a constant Ministry presence doesn't exactly elect much confidence. "I'm afraid that it cannot be avoided. We are legal obligated to inform them of your condition and the circumstances surrounding it. For the present I would advise that you contact your family." I nod at this already decided that Dale is the only member of my family that will be receiving a letter. "On the night before the next full moon you will report to my office for a draft of Wolfsbane. By then we should have somewhere more permanent where you will be able to transform."

I offer him another nod as the headmaster steps forward to save me from any more of this. "I think that will be all for now Severus. I think it's time both of you got some much needed rest."

I run a shaky hand through my hair and start a hasty retreat out of the classroom, thanking them both on my way out, Hermione just half a step behind.

She graciously walks me to my chambers and says a softly spoken 'good night' before heading off in the direction of the tower.

After speaking my password and entering my room, I cross the room and fall onto my bed still fully clothed and fall into the realm of Morpheus almost before my head hits the pillow.
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By The Light