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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter 7

It's not long after my first transformation, until the first Saturday of November rolls around. Which can only ever mean one thing, Quidditch. Practices are one thing but games, they're something else. After the past few weeks have been filled with nothing but unwanted surprises, it would be nice to be able just forget about them for a few hours as we battle against Gryffindor.

I haven't really slept all that much today. I woke at the crack of dawn and have been itching to get out of my chambers from the moment my eyes opened. To hyped up and anxious to get on that pitch, start scoring some goals against Ronald Weasley. I still haven't forgiven him for walking in on me and Hermione that day, so it would be nice to be able to get a little bit of payback. It's petty and probably beneath me, which incidentally doesn't make it any less enjoyable.

After showering and dressing in loose jeans and a t-shirt I make my way towards the doorway. I have to change into my armour anyway so there's not really much point in getting dressed up in my house colours.

As I open the door something scrapes across the stone flooring, catching on an indentation and halting its progress, I have to push the door closed to investigate what it is. On my floor there is a small silver badge cut into the shape of a crown. 'Wesley Is Our King' neatly inscribed on its surface. I turn it over once and expect it to do something. Change in some way by magic but I am rewarded with nothing. Why would someone push this under my doorway? I can only assume it is in reference to Ron and not his two brothers, only because he is the newest member of their team. Is it an underhanded tactic to rattle my confidence?

Pondering this while making my way down the hallway and up the spiral staircase I palm the small mysterious item. Making my way to the Entrance Hall, which is already buzzing with life, I manage to hear above the din my name being called. Turning towards the voice and instantly feeling the smile on my face as Hermione approaches. "Morning." She says excitedly, for someone who once called Quidditch barbaric she does make an effort when one of the many games of the school season comes around. Her red and gold scarf testament to that.

"Morning." I greet her, showing my teeth in a wide smile at her enthusiasm. My forefinger lightly touches the rosette on the chest of her thick coat. "You certainly get into the school spirit these days."

She ducks her head as a dusting of pink covers her cheeks, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, which immediately comes loose and falls in front of her eyes. "It's Ron's first game. I'm showing support." She says shyly in way of explanation. Conversation between us has become somewhat easier in the wake of my episode down in the dungeons. The horrible secret between the two of us giving us something to discuss if nothing else. We've spent a great deal of time in the library researching and discussing the possible differences between my condition and what can be perceived as normal. The result has been that we are much more relaxed in each other’s company. This one subject breaking the icy tension and opening the field of discussion to other areas of life.

"Speaking of Weasley..." I tactfully ignore the roll of her eyes and open my palm, unfolding the small crown shaped broach to her inspection. "Is this anything to do with you Gryffindors?"

She takes the small object and turns it a few times, letting the light catch off it during her examinations. "Weasley is our king'" She recites. "No, I would say not. Must be a Slytherin thing."

She hands me back the broach and I hold it flat in my palm. "Be nice if someone told me about these things." I say a little surprised and more hurt than I'm willing to admit from the exclusion. I'm on the team. Shouldn't that get me some sort of free pass to be involved with Quidditch propaganda? I bring my gaze up to meet hers with a quirk in my eyebrow. "Nice to be in the loop."

"Do me a favour and don't show that to Ron." I smile and nod at her. It's not like it will be a difficult promise to keep. I barely know the boy. "Thank you."

The conversation is interrupted by a third party. A girl only slightly shorter then myself all red hair and deep scowls. "Is everything alright Hermione?" She glares pointedly in my direction and I suddenly feel very uncomfortable in my own skin.

Hermione remains clueless to the irate tone in the new comer’s voice. "Everything's fine Ginny." I am honestly starting to think that it doesn't matter where I go, I'm going to be surrounded by Weasleys. "Why do you ask?" Ginny lifts her chin in my direction in silent indication, filling me with an intense desire to step back from her penetrating glare. Realization suddenly dawns on Hermione. "Oh. How rude of me. Ginny this is Jamie, Jamie this is Ginny."

Both of our heads turn towards her at the same moment with wide surprised eyes. Is she honestly giving introductions? My eyes squint slightly and my forehead creases. She is able to cover it up very well but her actions appear to run far deeper than to simply alleviate the tension. She's introducing me to her friends. Expanding the boundaries of our friendship by including her own. I am never one to turn down bread crumbs when a relationship such as this one is heading in the right direction. So with all of the politeness I can muster I hold out my hand for her to shake. "Pleasure to meet you Ginny."

Hermione practically beams at me for taking her marginally subtle hint and Ginny's face turns slowly back to me. Her mouth agape to accompany her wide eyes. Her lips trying to form words but no sound emanates from her. Hermione stepping in nudges her friend in the shoulder and uses her head and eyebrows to gesture in my direction. The action seems to push the redhead out of her shock and she slowly takes my hand in hers. "Yeah." She still looks over me dubiously, as if at any moment I am likely to throw a hex her way. "Likewise." Awkwardly we separate and she gives me a final look up and down before turning her full attention to Hermione. "Have you seen my brothers?"

Hermione shakes her head. "Not this morning. They were gone before I got up. I assume they've gone for breakfast." Feeling out of place in the conversation I touch Hermione's arm and excuse myself. Only able to make a few steps before I feel pressure against my wrist, I turn and rest my eyes on her fingers encircling my wrist then bring them up to catch her gaze in question. She lets her tongue peek out to wet her lips as she quietly speaks. "Why don't you come and meet Ron and Harry?"

I feel myself blink a few times in stunned silence. An off chance introduction to her best friend's sister is one thing but for her to go out of her way to acquaint me with her closest friends is something that I wasn't prepared for. I can see by the look in her eye, she is nervous. I seriously consider refusing her offer but fear that if she doesn't introduce us now she might lose her nerve and I will have lost my chance. Forcing my head I nod in silent acceptance. She begins to pull me in the direction of the Great Hall. I am highly, conscious of her fingers on my skin but do not draw attention to it, even as I pull level and she continues to chat aimlessly with the youngest Weasley.

The din of chatter intensifies as we enter the Great Hall and she pulls me to a stop at the Gryffindor house table. Ginny immediately goes to her brother. "How are you feeling?" She asks. In my opinion he's looking so intently at the dregs of milk from his cereal that he must be seriously considering drowning himself in it.

Harry answers for him, albeit distractedly as his attention is focused on Hermione's hand, which is still gripping my wrist. "He's just nervous."

Hermione watches his line of slight and takes her digits from my skin as if I burned her. She clears her throat and shifts from one foot to the other in a nervous manner. I have to bite on my lip to keep my laughter in check. Taking pity on her, and already knowing where this interaction is heading, I lean forward holding my palm out for him to take. "Jamie. Nice to meet you."

In shock at my show of confidence he takes my hand and shakes it once. "Right." After a few blinks, his shocked expression is pulled away from me and directed over my shoulder. I deep frown covers his forehead. "What the hell?"

In sheer curiosity I turn my head to look over my shoulder and my eyes once again open wide, stunned at what I see before me. "Okay..."

Almost all eyes are on the girl who has just entered the hall. Her white blond hair a striking contrast to the very realistic loin head sitting precariously atop of her own. She appears to glide over to the small group that has gathered around the marginally suicidal Weasley boy and greets them with a very dreamy "Hello." She even graces me with a distant smile as I stare open mouthed at her strange choice of head gear. "I'm supporting Gryffindor. It's good isn't it." As I distractedly bob my head in her direction she reaches up and triggers the damned thing. It lets lose a fearsome, very realistic roar, making everyone in the immediate vicinity jump and even I take a cautious step back. "I wanted to have it chewing on a serpent to represent Slytherin. No offence."

"None taken." It's ingenuous, absolutely brilliant. Even though I personally would prefer not to be chewed on by an almighty lion there is no denying the splendour of the mascot.

She nods still with that almost disturbing smile on her face and makes her way over to the Ravenclaw table, taking the time to wish Ron, good luck as she passes. His only answer is to hunch his shoulders over even more and wrap his arms around his torso.

"Who was that?" I ask while everyone around me is still reeling from the encounter.

"That..." Ginny gestures over her shoulder while sitting next to her brother and pouring herself a goblet of pumpkin juice. "That was Luna."

"Lovegood?" Ginny nods in reply behind the rim of her goblet. I turn my gaze to Hermione with a raised eyebrow. "You have some weird friends." She offers me a tight lipped smile of embarrassment before bobbing her head up and down. My eyes stray to the lion’s head which is standing much taller than any other students head. I'd never really given anyone much of my time who I considered strange in any way but after this interesting encounter I might have to rethink that.

Angelina Johnson suddenly appears at Harry's side with a thick air of urgency about her. "When you're ready, we're heading down to the pitch to check of the conductions and the change." She notices me and sends a seething look in my direction, which makes me want to run and hide under my bed. I'm damned glad that she's not my captain.

"We'll be down in a bit." Harry tells her, turning to his friend and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Ron just needs to have some breakfast."

"On that note I'd better go. Montague will have my hide if I'm late."

Harry regards me with a nod, holding his hand out again for me to take. "See you on the pitch." I take his hand in mine and I am infinitely surprised by what he says next. "It really was nice to meet you."

"Likewise. And Ron," he takes his eyes from his bowl to look over at me, turning an interesting shade of grey as he does. "Good luck out there."

He offers me a short thanks and a shaky wave of his hand before I turn on my heel, taking special note of the wide toothy grin Hermione has thrown in my direction as I quickly escape the chaos of the Great Hall.

I make my way over the thin layer of frost covering the ground to the changing rooms for the Slytherin team. Lowering my gaze and ignoring the sneers and derogatory jeers from my team mates, I make a beeline for my locker. Quickly removing my personal effects and slipping quietly into my armour while simultaneously and religiously ignoring everyone else in the room. Including Montague as he goes over the strategies for what must be the thousandth time for the benefit of the less than learned members of the team. To this day I cannot understand why each captain insists on putting the most stupid brutes in the beater position. Granted both Crabbe and Goyle have a good swing but they lack any sort of tactical intuition and don't always look completely confident on their brooms. The influence behind it is of course Draco but one would think that even he would be able to see how unwise it is having them both defending us from the charmed balls.

I pull the laces on my gauntlets tighter with the aid of my teeth just as Montague finishes one of his more boring pep talks in his dreary monotone voice. He leads us out onto the pitch, reaching its centre just as the Gryffindor players start to file out of their own changing rooms.

Both Crabbe and Goyle immediately begin to swing their beaters bats around in what I assume they perceive to be a threatening manner. In truth the uncoordinated morons look more like a couple of apes who have been given a new toy. Taking a glance to my left I see Draco tapping a silver badge upon his chest, which looks exactly like the one slipped under my door this morning, with a menacing look on his face directed at the other team. What in the name of Hera is he up too?

I am pulled from my thoughts as Madame Hooch orders both captains to shake hands in the centre of the pitch. As Montague tries to squeeze Johnson's hand so tight it breaks the bones I notice another one of the strange, silver badges on his chest. I suddenly feel very out of the loop. What are these new mascots? And further more why is Weasley our king?

I quickly mount my broom and take to the sky as the snitch and the bludgers are released. The whistle is sounded and the quaffle is thrown into the air. Johnson is the first to catch it. Ducking below our defensive line, I pull my broom into a quick dive and make a break to chase her as she heads for our goal posts, narrowly missing being hit from behind by a bludger that Goyle sends in our direction. It glances Johnson on the shoulder and she drops the ball right into my waiting hands.

Quickly I turn my broom around a hundred and eighty degrees, taking the time to scowl at Goyle for the near miss and take off at speed towards the Gryffindor goalposts keeping low to the ground. Seeing resistance up ahead in the form of Bell I throw the ball up and left into the waiting hands of Montague, who is promptly hit in the head by a bludger from one of the two Weasley twins. No idea which one but who can tell with those two?

The quaffle drops into Bell's grasp and she takes off down the field just as loud rambunctious singing begins to erupt from the Slytherin stands. It takes me a few verses to hear the words clearly over the roaring wind, as I take off at high speed but after one or two verses the volume picks up and makes me pull to a stop in my pursuit of Bell. Now that's a dirty trick.

'Weasley is our King

Weasley is our King

He always lets the quaffle in

Weasley is our King.'

Looking over the stand I have to blink my surprise away. How on earth did they all manage to orchestrate this without me knowing about it. I know I've been keeping to myself lately but this is ridiculous.

I'm punished severely for my lack of concentration as a bludger hits me square in the shoulder forcing me to flatten against my broom. I grip tight to the shaft and feel as if all of the wind has been pushed out of my lungs. After coughing a few times I manage to cast a glance over my shoulder at the beater who hit that ball in my direction and I am only mildly surprised to see Goyle's stupid smile for the effort. Here was me thinking we were on the same team.

'Weasley cannot save a thing

He cannot block a single ring

That's why Slytherins all sing

Weasley is our King.'

As I try to regain my breath I hear a loud ring indicating that Slytherin have scored. I find myself a little hurt that I had not been involved.

'Weasley was born in a bin

He always lets the quaffle in

Weasley will make sure we win

Weasley is our king.'

We're winning the game forty to ten by the time I manage to score a goal for myself. My celebration, cut short as another bludger hits me from the side with such force that it rattles my ribs and sends me sidelong into one of the Gryffindor goalposts, my other side taking most of the impact along with the side of my head. After shaking my head to clear the blurred vision and with one arm securely around my ribs to try and ease some of the ache I once again find the eyes of Goyle staring back at me. "Well, that's just not fair," I say more to myself than anyone else. There may be nothing in the rule book about sending bludgers towards members of your own team but it should defiantly come under the category of 'goes without saying.' The team must be very sure of their chances at a victory if they have taken out a member to specifically go after me.

"Are they doing that on purpose?" Ron shouts at me from high above where he is defending the goal posts.

I cough once, needing to shout loud over the singing which is still coming from every Slytherin in the vicinity, apart from me. "I'm beginning to think so!"

The momentary lapse in his concentration causing another goal to be scored on him and I watch as he berates himself for the slip up. I turn my eyes back to the field just as yet another bludger is heading for my head. I have to put my fist to the top of my broom to throw myself into a dip to avoid it. I look over my shoulder to watch as it passes harmlessly above me, not needing to find the beater that sent it in my direction. Goyle and I are going to have words after this. The kind of words which will lead to his face being slightly less square shaped once I'm finished.

I send my gaze skywards, praying that one of the seekers is in pursuit of the snitch so that this nightmare might soon be over. Both Potter and Malfoy are speeding across the sky drawing almost level with each other. From this angle I cannot see the tiny golden ball but their actions indicate its presence.

I send a silent thanks to whoever was listening to my prayers. Determination, and admittedly dwindling house pride, push me back into the fray and I have control of the quaffle in seconds. Turning almost on the spot and speeding in the direction of the Gryffindor goal posts. As I rear my arm back to throw another goal two things happen. The whistle blows to signal someone has caught the snitch and yet another bludger hits me right between the shoulder blades. I drop the spherical ball and my chest hits the shaft of my broom. I lose my grip and fall sideways reaching for and missing my broom, falling at least fifteen feet to the floor landing heavily first on my shoulder, my hip following immediately after. I roll lazily onto my front gripping my injured arm and for the second time I try to force some air into my lungs.

With a cringe against the pain and a sound emitting from my throat, which sounds dangerously close to a whimper, I bring my head up glancing around the pitch. My eyes find Goyle as Montague gives him a hearty slap on the back in pride. Rage settles in the pit of my stomach and deep behind my eyes.

"That's it." Pushing heavily on the floor and grunting with the effort I manage to push myself to my feet, reaching down to the ground and retrieving the forgotten quaffle as I pass. "Now I'm annoyed."

Chewing on my tongue and throwing the ball from one hand to another I still have the presence of mind to survey the other players on the field before starting a confrontation with the shaved ape. Most of the Gryffindor team is heavily engaged with Draco along with most of my team. One half staring in hatred at the blond boy, the other sniggering at his comments. Now if I know Draco, and I assure you that I do, there is no way that he will give up on his line of criticism once he has started. Regardless of what is going on around him, especially today. He put a lot of effort into that song and teaching it to a quarter of the student body. So I feel a little safer in engaging the boy almost twice my body weight.

Pulling my arm back with the quaffle in my grip I shout. "Goyle!" Then, putting all of my body into the throw, I send the ball sailing in Goyle's direction. He turns at the sound of his name and the quaffle hits the side of his head with a hollow sound that I can hear even from this distance. There is a momentary pause in Draco's taunting but he mealy glances then turns his attention back to the Gryffindors. The boy is so predictable it's embarrassing sometimes. "You want a fucking piece of me?" I yell over the biting wind and come to a stop three feet from Goyle and turn my furious eyes up towards him. Pointing an angry finger in his direction as I shout "You have the bollocks to come and get it yourself!"

The moronic look never leaves his face as he turns first to seek out Draco who hasn't stopped on his tangent with regards to Potter's and the Weasely's mothers. Finding no support from his leader his face holds a gormless look as it lifts to the sky for Crabbe, who is currently on the reviving end of a tongue lashing from Madame Hooch. He finally turns back to me as I shake with rage, a sneer pulled tightly across his face. I know he has left his comfort zone far behind. He has no way to physically hurt me in the presence of so many teachers without repercussions, so he must rely on his words. "You have to go and get your Mudblood?"

It's unoriginal and totally out of context but still strikes a nerve and my shoulders bunch to show my displeasure. I take a few steps forward getting the idiot within striking distance before continuing. "You're a moron Goyle. So I'm going to give you a chance to amend that statement." His whole face scrunched into an ugly mask of confusion. I have to sigh to hold my temper for just a few moments. "Say that again, you imbecile."

"Oh," He says, it's embarrassing really it is how stupid can one boy be without any registered disorders? "I said. Did you have to go and get your Mudblood?" he speaks slowly trying to imply that I'm the stupid one in this conversation.

"I thought so." Had I been in possession of my wand I would have hexed him so deep into unconsciousness he would be in the hospital wing for at least a week. However wands aren't permitted on the pitch. So quicker than he can see and harder than I thought possible I reel back and for the first time in my life let loose my closed gauntlet covered fist right into the side of his face just as Draco receives the same treatment from both Harry Potter and George Weasley.

The strike feels good. Better than I thought it would feel. There's an overwhelming sense of satisfaction as the leather covering my knuckles crashed into his unprotected jaw. The blow sends him stumbling to one side and before I know what I'm doing I'm stepping forward, another punch primed and ready. It sails towards him and strikes his temple and he crumples to the floor. My body acts of its own accord and steps forward yet further standing over him. One palm bunches in his green and silver tunic and lifts his torso from the ground as I bring my other fist down and into his cheek. His back hits the frozen earth and I reel back for another strike before a set of strong, well-built arms enclose around each of my biceps and pulls me, kicking and screaming from the now cowering boy. My feet leave the ground, kicking out wildly and I pull and twist out of the captive grip around my limbs. Just one more my whole body is screaming at me for just one more piece of satisfaction.

I hear a loud cry of "Impedimenta!" The arms around me loosen and fall from my body and my back hits the frozen ground. My agile body permits me to be back on my feet in an instant as Goyle is still regaining his footing from my strikes. We stand facing each other my fury filled eyes fixed on him, trying with all of my might to burn him from the inside with just my gaze. Chaos erupts around me. Cheers and boos from every student in the stands. When Madame Hooch's feet hit the ground she has to scream above the din. "What do you think you are doing?" Though my body remains still I would love nothing more than the freedom to cross the three feet between myself of the ape like boy and begin to beat him all over again. "Harry, George, Jamelia. Back up to the castle." It takes me a moment to realize that she is referring to me. Only my father calls me that nowadays.

Everything suddenly goes very quiet. The rushing sound of the wind and the faint hoot of an owl are the only sounds to reach my ears. The second of these sounds makes my heart skip a beat and my blood run icy cold. Each owl has very distinctive sounds that they make and when you've grown up around one their hoots are ingrained in your memory, so you always know when to look up amongst the crowd of birds. That's exactly what I do. Above our heads circles a lone bird. A thick red envelope held tightly in its beak. It swoops down at my feet its chest puffed out as he stands with pride and deposits the howler on the cold frozen ground before taking flight.

My eyes land on the cold, tight, blocked writing on its front. It simply says 'Jamelia'. It took a little longer than I expected but I don't even have to open the envelope to know what is inside. For just a moment as I stare at the letter unmoving on the grass, I ponder if he could have orchestrated this? For the letter to find me here and now, on this very pitch, with the eyes of the whole school bearing down on me? He's certainly vindictive enough but would he have thought about it?

Everyone keeps very still and quiet as I lift my eyes from the floor to Goyle who is still squaring off to me. His eyes flicking from the paper at my feet back up to my face. It doesn't take a generous to figure out what he's thinking.

The loud roar of Luna's hat echoes though the stadium, as if a cue for the chaos to resume we both dash towards each other at once. My shoulder lands heavily in his chest, his superior weight and height have the immediate advantage over me. He engulfs me in his bulky body and I lash out. Pushing, kicking and elbowing at every piece of flesh I can find. No method in the violence, just a deep seated need to keep his meaty hands away from the howler which is lying undisturbed between our feet.

A lucky shot hits the back of my knee and I crumple to the ground. He over balances and lands atop me, crushing my body beneath his. I use every piece of leverage, every limb I have at my disposal to dislodge the mass that has settled over me. After a single shout of 'I've got it.' I feel the weight leave me only to hear my father's booming voice, "Jamelia!" The single word has me collapsing against the ground. His voice oppressing me and I bring both of my arms over my head to shield my face on instinct. Many times I have heard his voice take such a tone but never in the company of others. "Blood traitor! Homosexual! And now Werewolf!" My body shakes uncontrollably, the sound of his voice as it wraps itself around that last word enough to drive me to hysteria. "You know the price you must pay for such disappointment!" My father was never one for words, and even before the envelope begins to rip itself to pieces I know that it is the entire message.

My breath comes in short pants and I am unable to move my arms from their protective embrace around my skull. The price he wants me to pay is my life. Something of which I am unwilling to give up just yet. My mind shifts franticly. In a fair fight I could beat him with ease but outside of these grounds I'm an under-aged witch. Unable to cast magic and I wouldn't last a moment.

Around me there is nothing but stunned silence. My own raged breaths louder in my ears than that of the whole student body combined. Slowly I bring myself under control and push myself to my knees then gradually to my feet. The rage is drained from me and I feel the fatigue settle from the last few minutes. The back of my gauntleted hand touches my bottom lip and comes away smeared in my own blood. I pull my lip between my teeth to clean it and turn my gaze to Madame Hooch for further direction.

She just stands there, her wand out ready to cast a spell to tear Goyle and me apart, with her mouth loose on its hinges. Every set of eyes is settled on me. I can feel them crawling along my skin. Some judging me others pitying. Both of which I could do without. My arms cross in a defensive posture against my chest and I hear whispers pass through the stands. Still she stands there, motionless in her shock. I try to implore her with my eyes to say something. Anything. Just to break the silence, which has settled over each and every player standing on the frost covered ground.

My saviour comes in the last form I would have expected. My head of house strides his way across the grass, his robes bellowing out behind him with the speed of his stride, in our direction and immediately takes controls of the situation. "Potter, Weasley you will report to Professor McGonagall immediately." Both of the boys numbly nod their heads and tripping over their own feet in their haste to retreat from the awkward scene. "Desay. You will come with me."

I lift my tired eyes to his features which are currently impossible to read and whisper. "Yes Professor."
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By The Light