Kjærlighet Verbrennt

IX.

Rotis sat at the breakfast table in the Great Hall the next morning, the ceiling sky above her a dim blue streaked with long white clouds, as though a hundred jets had passed over. Her porridge bowl was brimming and steaming in front of her, but she wanted nothing to do with it. She wanted nothing to do with anything, or anyone; she yearned for her bed back in the dormitory, where she could lie down and sleep forever and forget that she had seen the tree glowing last night, forget she´d run around in the forest last night, forget she´d been rescued by centaurs. Most of all, she wanted to forget Cedric´s voice.

Beside her, Dicken was wearing his usual contemplative pout, his bowl of porridge equally untouched. But where Rotis looked lost, Dicken only looked curious, maybe a bit disturbed, though Rotis was too absorbed in her own thoughts to notice.

But Gaiter, who had had exactly no bizarre dreams or midnight adventures, was as chipper as usual and thus more observant, unfortunately for her two friends.

"Neither of you are eating," she said, watching her own bowl of porridge fill to the lip before sprinkling itself with cinnamon. "You don´t like hasty pudding?"

In response, Rotis shoved the bowl to the other end of the table and laid her head down, though it was more of a banging, causing a few dozing students around them to jump. Worried expression crossed Gaiter and Dicken´s faces, but before either could ask, she waved exhaustedly and said, "I´m just sleeping."

"Isn´t that what last night was for?" Gaiter asked, but Dicken shook his head at her, and Rotis shrugged before suddenly jerking her head up again and staring at Gaiter as though there was an answer hidden in the pink-haired girl´s face.

"We´ve got Potions today, haven´t we?" she said, and though she didn´t want to, Gaiter nodded. Utter disgust and dread were too small of words for how Rotis´ face looked, and she slammed back onto the table, the silverware jumping with a clatter.

Lucky me, thought Gaiter. I get to spend the morning with Snape and a sleep-deprived Beater.

"So Dicken," she said, deciding he might be a bit more sociable, "what does this fair Thursday morn - what´s on your hands?"

Dicken had been wondering that himself. He remembered his dream - he always did, which was why it was so unnerving - but it couldn´t be possible, it had been a dream, it hadn´t been real -

Impatient for him to let her have a closer look, Gaiter grabbed Dicken´s wrists and nearly pulled him over the table. They looked ordinary, no fingers missing, except for that his palms were covered in

"Glitter?" she asked. "Dicken, are you using glitter lotion? My cousin had some of that once, it´s all the rage for Muggles - "

"No," said Dicken, sitting back down, studying his hands like he´d never seen them before.

"And I understand, Dicken, I really do, if it makes you feel pretty or if you´re that way, I´ve got another cousin - "

"No," said Dicken, a bit more firmly. "I haven´t been playing dress-up in the wee hours of the morning, I can assure you."(Gaiter knew this, but it had been too much fun to torment him, get him back for all those jokes about her hair.) "And it´s not glitter," he said, turning his hands over. "It´s silver."

Gaiter shrugged - she never had been one for enigmas at breakfast. "Hadn´t you better wash it off?" she suggested, uninterested in the mystery substance. Dicken nodded, somewhat anxious to leave the scene. "And I´ve got to wake Rotis up to go down to Potions," she added, watching Dicken deciding whether to leave or stay. "No one wants to be here for that."

Dicken agreed, and left his chair, hoping no one else had noticed his hands, or if they had, they hadn´t been able to identify it. They would have read about it, of course, so there was a chance, but who really knew how lustrous the sheen of unicorn´s blood was?

_____________________

"Miss Wood, Miss Hippolyta," Snape said slickly as the two girls quietly slid into their seats. Over half the chairs were still empty, but Snape still acted as though the two had walked in an hour late. "How nice of you to join us. . ."

Rotis pulled out her copy of Bubbles, Brews, and Broths: Mildly Advanced Potions and slammed it on the table, rattling the many glass beakers and bottles that sat there. She sighed - it was going to be an unbearably long morning.

Paisley entered, followed by Roderick, both wearing the same, utterly exhausted expression. More Hufflepuffs followed, and then an average boy of average height who the girls recognized immediately, their insides going as cold as dungeons.

Waverly Lysander was the least likely Slytherin in all of Hogwarts - he came from a reasonable family that had no real wealth or hatred for Muggles, as most Slytherins did, he smiled often (though you could see the viscous laughter between his teeth), and he looked exceptionally normal, except for his lavender eyes. When he looked at you, you were so beset by the odd color of them, almost hypnotized, that he could pry any sort of information he wanted out of you, and you would have no idea you released it until he had used it against you in some terrible prank that would be circulating the school for weeks. Waverly himself did not come across as a prankster; he gave off a radiance of ambition, of not having time for mere laughter. Waverly was a conqueror, but his two cohorts were not.

Bernard Dooley and Bailey Duff had known each other forever, and had taken to looking like each other over the years - both had green eyes, uncontrollable copper hair, the same sneaky expression always on their faces. They were as perfect for Slytherin as Waverly wasn´t - their families were rich and despised anyone even distantly related to a Muggle, they only grimaced and smirked to show their joy (usually in bring someone else pain), and they were just downright mean. Spite was their specialty - they were like an evil version of the Weasley twins when it came to practical jokes, and more than one unfortunate student had been forced to conjure up their own story to tell Madame Pince why they had acquired antlers in order to avoid the team´s wrath. It wasn´t the first thing you noticed when you saw the pair, but they were both unusually muscular, and no one had yet to defy them, fearful of ending up on the other side of four fists. They were also unruly Beaters, Rotis remembered as she watched them take their seat in front of her and Gaiter. She had yet to knock one off his broom, but she had good feelings about this year´s match.

Gaiter had her own reasons for hating them - she had yet to figure out how they had done it, but several years ago she was drinking her usual kiwi juice at breakfast, and discovered in Herbology that she was sunburning ridiculously easy. So much, in fact, that she left the class with her skin the exact shade of her hair, and not just where the sun had hit it, but everywhere. Madame Pomfrey recognized it as the result of a Rainbow Tonic that had been slipped into her drink, and when she left the next morning, she found a note on her bedstead with the heading of: From the Offices of BD , At least you match now.

"Had a trim, Hippo-leeta?" asked Duff. "Dooley, has the reptile had a trim?"

Bernard turned around in his seat, raising an eyebrow at Gaiter, who was busy rearranging her bottles and stirrers.

"Dunno, Duff. Perhaps she´s gotten a new pattern," he suggested.

"Or had it cleaned," replied Bernard. "How much do they charge at the carpet-washer´s to get a shampoo and rinse on your head?"

And the two burst in raucous laughter as Gaiter´s eyes burned holes into them.

"You don´t worry," said Rotis, glaring just as intensely at the two. "I´ll get them back when the season picks up." Hands aching for a bat, she planned just how hard she´d wallop the two as Snape strode to the front of the room.

"Vexation Vials," he said, and an immediate hush fell over the room, "and Simpering Solutions. Both brews that can render an enemy absolutely helpless - one by making him so irritated by say, a mis-sewn hem on his robe, that he is distracted from you, and the other transforming him into a gushy buffoon."

One Snape drinks a quart of every day, the other is rusted shut in his closet, scribbled Rotis to Gaiter, and she tried to stifle her laughter, but apparently the Vex Vial had unnatural effects on one´s senses, and Snape snapped around instantly, leering over the two girls´ tables.

"Miss Hippolyta! Perhaps you´d like to share your amusement with the rest of the class."

Gaiter was too busy trying not to look up Snape´s enormous nostrils and snorting into her sleeve at her predicament to reply.

"Perhaps, Professor," said Bailey Duff, and the teacher only glanced over to show he had heard him, "she´s realized the shade of the rug on her head."

The Slytherins all snickered maliciously, and Snape himself cracked a wry grin. Gaiter was still sniggering uncontrollably, wondering if she could shove her wand into his nasal cavities and poke his brain out.

"Well, Gaiter, is that it?" inquired the Professor. "For surely your hair is a laughing matter."

"Perhaps, Professor," said Rotis, mimicking Bailey almost perfectly, "she´s amused by the view she´s got. Your honker," she said, still just as sweetly as before, "is extremely large."

Muffled laughter came from all the Hufflepuffs, and Gaiter nearly fell out of her seat, her guffaw erupting like a volcano out of her. Snape, on the other hand, was not amused, but did not fly into a rage as Rotis had hoped he would. He simply stood up, a vein bulging irregularly in his pale neck.

"Fifteen points from Hufflepuff," he said calmly. "A shame, too, what with your Quidditch team in the shape it is, you direly needed those points."

Rotis felt a spark of fury and nearly left her seat, but Gaiter´s hand stopped her.

"But please, Professor," said Gaiter, "tell us about the Vexation Vial. You must be an expert."

And the two grinned stupidly as he simply nodded and demonstrated it, feeding a few drops to a caged white rat, who immediately began glaring at all the students and beating on the wires of his cage, shaking his head in annoyance. After curtly explaining what the class was assigned, Snape swooped off to his desk in the darkest corner of the room, and busily began correcting parchments.

Rotis and Gaiter worked diligently, ignoring the malevolent giggles from the table in front of them, Rotis glancing back every now and then when she felt she was being watched. It was a feeling that often occurred within the Potions classroom, though every time she looked all the students were busy stirring their cauldrons or measuring ingredients.

"Oh, great," said Gaiter beside her, and she looked to see a mess of she didn´t like to think what covering her partner´s hands. "The Hinkypunk Spleen exploded. Could you go fetch another one?"

Rotis nodded, wanting to escape the grim remains, and she wove between bubbling potions and precariously balanced beakers to get to the Supplies.

She was washing her hands beneath the gargoyle fountain when she suddenly heard her name. Turning, she saw Waverly Lysander studying her with those perplexing purple eyes. She hurriedly turned back to the gargoyle.

"Waverly," she acknowledged bluntly.

"Couldn´t help but notice your performance in the Great Hall last night," he said as he sidled over beside her, putting his own hands beneath the spigot. They were callused, she noticed, and his fingernails bitten. She said nothing.

"But I understand why you did it."

"Do you need something, Waverly?" she asked curtly, turning to glare at him, immediately realizing it was a mistake as she met his eyes. Purple, she thought childishly as she leaned on the wash basin, the tiny part of her mind that knew she was ensnared suddenly slipping away as though it had been covered in oil.

"You´re lonely, Rotis," he said as her face lost all expression. "You´ve got to be - Cedric´s been dead a year, and you´ve been absolutely alone since then."

She nodded dumbly, completely transfixed, as though Waverly had all control over her. But he was not as assured as he seemed - Rotis´ sky blue eyes were piercing him as much as his violet ones were her, and he faltered as he spoke.

"You need company," he said, his palms suddenly sweaty. "You´ve got to be ready again - "

And he glanced over at the water, the hypnotism gone. Rotis blinked and shook her head, the past moments suddenly coming back to her in a great mental whoosh, and before she knew what she was doing, she slapped him with her wet palm, the noise echoing in the classroom.

He stepped back as the students´ hubbub ceased, but he showed no sign of feeling, even though his cheek was turning colors from the impact. Snape did not move from his desk, though the parchments he´d been shuffling froze in mid-air.

And without a word, never taking his eyes off the ground, Waverly returned to his seat, all the Slytherins watching him wordlessly, the Hufflepuffs looking at Rotis curiously, wondering what had made her detonate this time.

"Back to work," barked Snape as he resumed his own duties, and reluctantly, the students returned to their stirring and measuring.

Rotis wiped her hands on her robe and realized her face was wet. Clutching the new spleen resolutely, she strode back to where Gaiter sat with a worried face.

"What was that all about?" she asked as Rotis unwrapped the spleen and began slicing it. "What happened?" Gaiter bent to see Rotis´ face. "Why are you crying?"

"I don´t know," Rotis whispered. "I can´t remember a thing."

"But it was just a minute ago - "

Rotis looked up at nothing, her knuckles turning white on the knife she held, than suddenly relaxing as she went back to the task at hand. "It´s those damn eyes," she said. "Shouldn´t be allowed."

"I´ve been wondering about that too," Gaiter replied. "It can´t be natural - maybe he´s some descendant, like that Fleur girl last year."

The blade slipped and hit the table loudly, and Gaiter remembered why she shouldn´t mention the silver-haired Beauxbatons Champion around Rotis.

"I´ll ask Professor Herring about it," Gaiter said. She thought of consoling her friend by telling her to forget it, but then realize it would be a redundant and unwise idea.

The rest of the class was uneventful, except when it came time to test the Simpering Solution two Neanderthal-resembling Slytherins had concocted. It worked all too well, and the rat who´d been subjected to it immediately turned to bestow affection on the first thing it saw, which simply happened to be Snape. Only when he threatened the adoring rat with the fire under the master cauldron did it let go of his thumb, and had it been a Hufflepuff´s potion, Rotis was sure points would have been taken off. As it was, no further points were given or removed from either house, and the students left for lunch as usual.

"Me mum´s got a fantastic vacuuming spell, lizard," said Bailey Duff to Gaiter as they left the dank classroom.

"Aye, and I´ve got the number of a fellow who can do wonders for floor treatments."

"Sod off, both of you," said someone behind them, and the girls turned to see Waverly glaring at his two pals. "Get some new jokes for once."

"Oy, the magic man´s gone soft on us," said Bernard to Bailey.

"Perhaps he´s still sore from being slapped by a Hufflepuff."

"S´what you get when you try to land a Beater."

"We´d know," finished Bernard with a laugh, and they sauntered off out of sight.

Gaiter glared at them both, but Rotis was looking in the other direction at Waverly as he shuffled down the hall. He turned back, and even at a distance she felt his watch, and it sent a shiver she didn´t like down her spine.

"You´d better wham those two in the match, Rotis," said Gaiter as she started toward the Hall.

"I wonder why he did that," Rotis said, still glancing back to where Waverly had been.

"Did what?" asked Gaiter, apparently seeing nothing odd.

"Got mad at his friends like that. He doesn´t have many, you know. He´s a Slytherin and his uncle´s a Muggle - they don´t like him in there."

"Probably some pathetic attempt at apology," said Gaiter, shifting her book bag. "And since when did you give a damn about Waverly? How do you know his uncle´s a Muggle?"

Rotis felt like turning around and running after him, but she didn´t, and suddenly realized what Gaiter had said. "I don´t," she answered. "I don´t know."

Gaiter snorted. "You´ve lost it. Hurry, I´m hungry, and Dicken hasn´t had anyone to talk to except Ravenclaws all morning."

Rotis nodded, jogging alongside her friend, a pair of lilac eyes still burning in her mind.

_____________________

Gaiter stood in front of a mirror in the girls´ bathroom, trying to smooth her fuchsia hair, the Great Hall still half-full of students eating their lunch (which consisted of any sandwich you could ever imagine paired with any crisp you could ever imagine and any fizzy drink you could ever imagine - Salami, olives, and tomato with German mustard, pickle chips, and Diet Fizzing Whizzle Drink in Gaiter´s case).

Her heart was beating unusually loud, and her palms were getting sweaty - she figured it must be the same sort of feeling Rotis got before a match. Only Gaiter wasn´t about to play Quidditch - she was about to attend her History of Magic class.

"Really, darling," said the mirror, "with that color, no one is going to notice the state it´s in."

Gaiter scowled, wishing the girls´ mirrors could be unenchanted like Dicken said the boys´ were, though she knew the mirror had a point. Giving herself one last angle check, she skipped out of the bathroom.

Her pulse was the only sound in the hallways as she hastily checked her reflection in any shiny object she passed, and then she became aware of another noise. Footsteps - very hurried ones, adult ones, Potions Master ones, rushing along behind her.

And indeed, mere feet away from the History of Magic classroom doorway, the intimidating figure of Professor Snape swooped past her, his black robes barely avoiding the ground as he careened into the classroom. Gaiter knew she should go in - it was, after all, where she had been so anxious to be only moments ago, but something in the way Snape was rushing about made her hold back, lingering by the doorway, just out of sight of whoever was in the room.

I´ll just wait till another student shows up, she thought, crossing her arms. I´ll just wait ever so quietly. . .

But the door was wide open and the two professor´s voices drifted out to her, demanding her attention.

"Here are the concoctions you wanted, Herring," said Snape coldly.

"Ah, Severus!" That was the cheerful voice of the young Professor Herring, a voice embarrassingly familiar to Gaiter. "How good to see you!"

Snape went on as though he had not heard. "The Twitch-Removing Tonic is the green one - " And there came the sound of glass bottles clinking. Gaiter thought the Potions Master must have very pocketful robes, as his hands had been empty when he´d entered the classroom. "The Energy Elixir in the long necked bottle. And the Aging Potion - "

"Must be that one!" finished Herring, and Gaiter heard him clap his hands together excitedly. She could just imagine Snape regarding him with those jet black eyes, probably glaring daggers. "Splendid, splendid. I can´t thank you enough, Severus, and I´d invite you for coffee or perhaps something stronger, but I´ve got a class on the way - "

"Yes, I know," replied Snape, silencing him. "I passed one of your students in the hall. The pink-haired one."

Gaiter slunk against the wall, her face burning.

"Odd sort of shade for a girl to dye her hair," said the Potions Master bitterly while Gaiter muttering `natural, not dyed, you slimy sod´ under her breath. "Hardly flattering."

"Oh, but it is fascinating," replied Herring, and Gaiter burned pinker. "Even distracting, at times. But in a good sense. We all need distractions, I think."

"Distractions have resulted in disasters, Herring. Look at that ridiculous ghost without a head, for instance. Had he been paying attention, he would have a nice, solid corpse." Where the hell did that come from? Gaiter wondered. "Now I must be going - your special order has put me slightly behind in my other, more necessary work. Good day."

Without thinking, Gaiter upended her bookbag, spilling parchment and quills all over the floor and hurriedly bending to pick them up, in order to explain why she´d been lurking around doorways, eavesdropping on teacher conversations, because she knew, she just knew Snape would

"Miss Hippolyta, haven´t you somewhere to be?"

Gaiter looked up from her crouched position, unfortunately reminded of her laughing attack this morning. "My bag broke," she muttered, classifying Snape´s nostrils as definitely a not-good distraction. He seemed to have nothing to say to this, but Gaiter´s attention was soon diverted as Professor Herring leapt out of the classroom, sighted Gaiter´s faked catastrophe, and bent to help her.

"Gaiter!" he exclaimed. "We were just talking about you."

Thinking `I know´ would not be the best response, Gaiter resorted to smiling as she snatched nearby parchments off the floor.

"You were, Herring," corrected Snape, and he disappeared down the corridor.

"Which reminds me," he said, and (as is mandatory in all girl-drops-her-stuff-and-boy-helps-to-pick-it-up scenes) his hand suddenly landed on hers. She made a weird gurgling sort of noise, but did not try to free it. "Your parchment on ancient wizard feuds was marvelous, but there were some things I wanted to discuss with you."

Gaiter frowned, or at least tried to, though she was in no state to be frowning. However, having her hand caught under the professor of her dreams´ and then being told that a homework assignment needed work were not what she had plotted.

"Are you free tonight?" he asked, and Gaiter inadvertently gaped at him as all her previous thoughts evaporated. She could only stare at the young professor, trying to read his expression, which was hard when you were being distracted by the coppery red hair, the green eyes with bits of what looked like red showing through, and the hopeful way he was smiling. Professor Herring might not have been very old to begin with, but when he said that, he looked as though he was sixteen, years younger than he was now.

"Gaiter?" he asked, and she recovered herself enough to nod.

"Yes, I´ll be here," she said. "Tonight." To discuss my paper, she added unhappily.

"Stupendous," he said, taking his hand off Gaiter´s and handing her a fallen quill.

And at exactly that moment more students started arriving, and Herring waved and smiled to them all before herding them into the classroom. Gaiter light-headedly finished filling her bookbag before joining them, oblivious to the chatter around her, a classic example of distraction.